It’s the official halfway mark of the Toronto International Film Festival, which means the best of the best have — for the most part — already reared their pretty heads. And with talk still gathering momentum over in Telluride, Oscar talk is already underway as Weinstein and the likes begin to incite whispers and rumors.
Foxcatcher
Foxcatcher is one of the top films of the year, and there really isn’t much argument involved. Will it see Oscar contention? Without a doubt. You can’t have a film starring Steve Carell pulling a Nicole Kidman with his incredible fake schnoz and not expect some gold; this is his Virginia Woolf. Carell is disturbing, odd, darkly comic, and most significantly, dramatic. We haven’t seen him try on such a skin before, and it’s unsettling to see Michael Scott buried deep and long forgotten.
The film follows real life Olympic wrestler Mark Schultz (Channing Tatum), a man who is clearly buried deep within his own shadows, perhaps most boldly, those of living as an underdog to his wrestler brother, Dave (Mark Ruffalo), a successful wrestler and family man (and the only satisfied character within the film, which is perhaps the downfall of the others). Schultz meets John du Pont, who offers to coach and sponsor Mark while he lives at his sprawling estate. The man is made of old money, but also carries a sinister undercurrent. Nevertheless, craving validation, Mark agrees and finally begins to feel valued in his own right, though it isn’t long before jealousy rears it’s ugly head.
Tatum, a perpetually awful actor who gets by on his charm and pretty face, isn’t quite redeemed here. However, he has come a long way; Tatum pulls off a sweet vulnerability and exudes an incredible endearment making Mark someone you can root and feel concerned for even on your way home post-movie and dinner date. Just the way he firmly holds his jaw and grits his teeth as Mark, Tatum is finally beginning to deviate from his usual blank stars to showcasing something lurking beneath the surface, and it isn’t all pretty (thank god). Ruffalo, meanwhile, serves just as he always does, and as the prince of endearment, perhaps Tatum picked up on a few things from his Hulkish co-star.
In real life and within the film, no one can predict the turn the intimacy between Mark and John takes. Each scene builds a quiet momentum and foreboding, until a final swift conclusion. There is an unusual tension, mostly built by Carell, whose character seems to be in want of something he can never quite grasp throughout the entirety of the film. But it’s the things we can never truly possess and control that always remain out of our grasp and have the ability to destroy us. Someone should’ve told John du Pont you can’t always get what you want.
99 Homes
Andrew Garfield plays Dennis Nash, a father struggling between jobs and attempting to save his house from foreclosure, only to arrive home one day to a sudden eviction, leaving himself, his mother, and his young son in a musty motel on the outskirts of town with other foreclosed-upon families. Michael Shannon plays the conniving, ever clever Rick Carver (even his name is greasy), a wealthy and morally corrupt real estate broker intent on profiting off evictees.
It isn’t until Nash gets desperate enough for money that he begins to work for Carver, doing the same dirty deeds that made him hate the real estate mogul in the first place: taking ownership of foreclosed homes, forcing families on to the street, among a bevy of other illegal and questionable tasks.
Garfield and Shannon are so well matched, playing off each other with a heated balance. Much like their characters, they need each other, intertwining their performances, and it is certainly one of Garfield’s best.
However, 99 Homes isn’t without the occasional cliché, and it does wrap up a little too neatly. The film gently loosens it’s thread as it continues, but not enough to corrode the refreshingly unique story, and with the intense opening eviction scene (including a top notch Laura Dern), it may just have one of the best starters at TIFF this year.
99 Homes
The Theory of Everything
Starring an incredible, fairly impossible to top this year (yes, I’m calling it) Eddie Redmayne (My Week with Marilyn, Les Miserables) as world’s genius Stephen Hawking, and a subtle, strong Felicity Jones (Like Crazy, The Invisible Woman) as his wife Jane, The Theory of Everything is an emotional fuse running through the festival. Following Hawking’s years as a graduate student in the 1960s until present time, we see how he developed his motor neuron disease (when he lost entire control of his muscles, and was given a projected two years to live) overtime.
Director James Marsh (Man on Wire, Shadow Dancer) is never heavy handed, and constructs a stylish picture with a lovely pace. This is a film not about an incredible physicist and the work that he has done, but about a relationship that is a moving force under the emotional battle of disease. It veers away from showing off the negativity and stigma of the disease, instead emphasizing Hawking’s wonderful humour throughout it all. And let me repeat: Redmayne is a sight to behold as his body contorts further and further; he becomes Hawking, a clever crumple of a smirk, a shrug, a glance. Redmayne delivers a mass of emotion in one simple eyebrow raise. Dude has raised the bar, and I’m not quite sure it’s coming down anytime soon. Cumberbatch who?
Wild
Not much needs to be said about Wild, the film based on Cheryl Strayed’s memoir of the same name that chronicled her more than a thousand mile hike of the Pacific Crest Trail. Having fallen into a deep depression following the shocking death of her mother, Strayed embedded herself into a reckless life in attempts to dilute her pain, including cheating on her husband numerous times, a drug addiction, cutting the loved ones out of her life, etc. In order to move beyond it all and make her mother proud, she decided to hike the PCT. And boy, did she do it.
Wild stars Reese Witherspoon in the title role, allowing her to finally return to a dramatic realm of Hollywood that looks damn good on her. Witherspoon, for lack of a better word, kills the role. Forget June Carter, she has never fell so effortlessly into a character, a female figure so representative of strength and motivation. The film follows such an even, balanced pace as Strayed hikes, day by day, month by month, also seamlessly sewing in her past and memories of her mother, her best friend (played by an always charming Laura Dern).
The risk for this kind of story is always sentimentality, but this film is not remotely precious. Somehow, it circumnavigates around the sap, much the way Cheryl trails through the PCT, leaving her memories, piece by piece, behind her between the trees and the dirt. Having nabbed a standing ovation at TIFF, there’s no question; get off your lazy ass and go see this.
Pawn Sacrifice
Is it just me, or has anyone else been waiting for Tobey Maguire to leap from the dusty shadows of Peter Parker and prove himself to be in the realm of the Jake Gyllenhaals and James Francos of today? Maguire has never been so good since Jim Sheridan’s Brothers (2009), another role that required an incredible level of anguish and frustration.
In Pawn Sacrifice, Maguire plays Bobby Fischer, the legendary American chess champion. The film follows his battle with Russian legend Boris Spassky, and Fischer’s increasing psychosis and paranoia as the years went on. The film is one giant chess match, and although it’s great seeing this cast play together (including a steely Liev Schreiber, always underdog Peter Sarsgaard, and a comically concentrated Michael Stuhlbarg), Pawn Sacrifice doesn’t quite maintain enough edge of your seat tension. It lingers, and it carries on, but it is unflinching in showing how off the rails Fischer felt, and he wasn’t entirely likeable. Maguire pulls off that aggression, and will give you a migraine watching him play it—for all the right reasons.
Pawn Sacrifice
Honorable Mentions: Far From Men, Cake, Miss Julie
Dishonorable Mentions: The Sound and the Fury, Men, Women & Children, Shelter, The Reach