By: Justin Eisinger

Acclaimed director Francois Truffaut famously said that it was impossible to make an anti-war film because all war films inadvertently made war look exciting. Truffaut didn’t live to see The Messenger. He would have applauded it.

The Messenger, directed by Oren Moverman, doesn’t feature any on-screen depictions of war. No one gets shot. Nothing gets blown-up. Yet, it deals with the effects of war on the psyche of the soldier as frankly as any movie since Full Metal Jacket. One scene features an emotional re-telling of a bloody war scene. It hits harder than an entire reel’s worth of graphic visuals.

Moverman’s debut film stars Ben Foster as Staff Sergeant Will Montgomery. Will is a not just a good soldier, but a veritable war hero, returning to the US because of wounds suffered in action. His serious, unflappable demeanor is an elaborate disguise, masking a hidden vulnerability. As the film opens, we see Will placing eye drops in his wounded left eye. They stream down his face like tears.

The stoic Montgomery would never permit himself to cry, however. But, he is clearly disillusioned with the everyday world he has returned to. He has no family to speak of, and Kelly (Jena Malone), his ex-girlfriend, has moved on and is in a serious relationship with some twerp named Alan (Michael Chernus). Foster is terrific in the role, slowly revealing the painful yearning that hides behind his rough exterior. His army regimented physical and verbal expressions carefully belie a vicious rage threatening to be unleashed.

Montgomery has no coping mechanisms, no healthy way of releasing his pent-up anger. This makes him a strange choice for a Casualty Notification Team, responsible for the delicate task of informing next-of-kin civilians that their loves one have been killed in duty. Will can’t even recognize his own grief, let alone the grief of strangers.

His commanding officer for the task is Captain Tony Stone, played by Woody Harrelson. As strong as Foster is in the lead role, Harrelson owns this movie. From the first time we see him, looking like some terrifying cross between Jack Nicholson in The Last Detail and pro wrestler “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, Harrelson radiates a menacing penchant for violence. His blunt sense of humor doesn’t relieve tension, but creates it.

Stone instructs Montgomery on the essentials of the job, treating a seemingly emotional situation with a harsh practicality. For Stone, who never got his war like Montgomery had Iraq, these notifications represent a military operation. And he handles it with all the deliberation and personality of an air-raid. The notifications are tense, harrowing scenes that explode with raw emotion.

No war film has ever been made from this unusual perspective. Avoiding climatic battles, and concentrating solely on war’s irrevocable after-effects, Overman has made a war film that doesn’t even remotely glorify war. Conversely, it shows the struggle of a soldier to pick up the pieces of his life at home, as well as the trauma inflicted on the families of those not fortunate enough to return.

Writer/Director Moverman loses his focus in the film’s second half as Montgomery becomes entangled in a sticky romantic situation with one of the widows he notifies. The widow, Olivia, is played skillfully by Samantha Morton, and the scenes between her and Foster are tender and genuine. But the audience never truly buys their relationship. Certainly, they both find themselves abandoned and alone. But Moverman never establishes what draws them together besides their mutual desperation. Perhaps that could be sufficient in another film, but we care too much about these characters to see them settle for that.

The film is unflinchingly realistic, which serves to develop our emotional connection with Montgomery, Stone, and Olivia. The only music in the film is “source music,” meaning it comes from within the movie: a stereo, a radio, etc. The struggles of a newly returned solider to a home that is strikingly alien are perfectly realized. “The Messenger” strikes only a few false notes, but unfortunately, they stand out in comparison to the rest of the film’s natural authenticity. One occurs when Montgomery and Stone notify a father played by Steve Buscemi. Buscemi is a fine actor, but here, he comes across as just that – an actor, not a father being informed of his son’s death. His reaction is too staged, and seems silly when compared to the terrific job done by the other, lesser-known actors who play the unlucky recipients.

Qualms aside, The Messenger is a unique look at the shattering effect war has not only on soldiers, but on the families they leave behind. Thankfully, the film finds a hopeful, redemptive tone in its final act, allowing for some much needed levity. But Overman’s message sticks with you. Truffaut would be stunned – here is a film that condemns war to its very core.

The story follows Will (Ben Foster), a decorated war hero that came home with a purple heart for saving some friends during an attack in some nameless Iraqi city. Although he’s sent back to the states, he still has a few months left of service.  His superior assigns him to the task force in charge of informing the next of kin of soldiers’ deaths within twenty four hours of the event.  This is a two man job, and he’s partnered up with Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson), who is clearly damaged goods (even though he’s never seen any real action).  He’s in quasi-recovery from alcoholism and does things by the book.  The two form an awkward bro-mance and go from family to family informing them of the worst news they’ll probably receive.  Will becomes particularly affected by Olivia (Samantha Morton), whom he informs her husband is dead.

The standout quality of the film is the performances of the three leads.  Foster takes the role to heart and clearly becomes the product of a war gone wrong.  Harrelson also had his work cut out for him, but manages to play a broken man excessively well.  Morton’s performance was much subtler (and smaller), but was just as powerful.  It’s wildly entertaining watching Will and Olivia enter into a sexless, awkward relationship that both fight because, well, her husband just died, and he’s the soldier that informed her of the fact. The conflict is never really discussed, but the actors manage to speak volumes without really saying much.

Moverman’s direction isn’t really that impressive.  Without the talented cast, the movie would have been extremely flat.  Partly to blame for this is the script that Moverman co-wrote with Alessandro Camon (the relatively successful producer responsible for Fur). There was also an uncomfortable amount of humor that Will and Tony find in their job.  Sure, there are tense moments that feel just right, but it feels far too uncomfortable laughing at such a solemn responsibility.  There are some great appearances by people like Jena Malone, Steve Buscemi, and more.  Overall, The Messenger has its moments, but mostly is just another mediocre film about the Iraq war (and who needs another one of those?).

2 out of 4 stars

Philip Seymour Hoffman plays Caden Cotard, a small time theater director who has incredibly bad luck.  The name Cotard, by the way, is most likely a reference to a rare nueropsychiatric disorder in which a person believes that he is dead, or doesn’t exist.  This is constantly hinted at throughout the movie.  Caden has a wife, Adele (played by Catherine Keener who has not once disappointed me with a performance), and a young daughter.  It’s a horribly dysfunctional marriage, with hints of lesbian love affairs (with an odd character played by Jennifer Jason Leigh who got lost in her role–not in a good way).  Adele takes her daughter, and leaves Caden for her art show in Berlin, leaving him all alone.  He then is given a MacArthur Genius Grant and attempts to create a new play that’s powerful and true.  The entire time, he’s sick with one weird affliction after the next: seizures, pustules, tremors, bleeding gums, losing the ability to cry, salivate, swallow.

With his wife gone, Caden starts exploring relationships with other women.  This leads to an affair with his eventual assistant Hazel (played by Samantha Morton) who lives in a house that’s been on fire since before she bought it, a short marriage to his leading lady Claire (Michelle Williams) which produces another daughter, and another leading lady Tammy (played by Emily Watson) who plays Hazel in Caden’s new play.  It gets very confusing as the movie goes on, as Caden attempts to make a life-size replica of New York in an enormous warehouse.  Actors become actors playing actors, playing actors, playing actors.

There are some very touching, hilarious and poignant moments in Synedoche.  The acting is tremendous.  This is one of the most talented ensemble casts of any movie this year.  Kaufman’s direction is incredibly ambitious, and is much better than you’d expect for a freshman effort.  You’d think he’d been in the director’s chair for years.  His style is distinctive and beautiful.  It’s useless to list all of the players by name when it seems they were all equally as driven and satisfying in their roles (save Leigh, and I’m not sure who’s at fault there).

As far as entertainment goes, I definitely wasn’t bored during the lengthy two hours and three minutes. The one major issues that plagues the film is that Kaufman brings up and flutters around scores of interesting ideas, without landing on any one of them to fully develop them.  For a while, the film seems to be about death, and the beauty of it.  Then it’s about the sadness of death.  Then it’s about unrequited love.  Now is it about an unreliable narrator? Then it’s about…  The entire two hours, Kaufman pitches concept after concept at the audience, and before I had a chance to even begin to wrap my mind around it, the movie had moved on.  Perhaps this problem would be solved with a repeat viewing, but mostly it seems like there’s simply too much crammed in here.  Kaufman could have written several movies with so much material.

Extremely dark, and requiring intense amounts of concentration, Synecdoche, New York is not for your average movie-goer.  It has it’s flaws, but if you make the effort, Kaufman can take you into an overwhelming world of creative expression.

3 out of 4 stars

Rottentomatoes: 65% – Cream of the Crop: 67%

‘Enduring Love’ is one of those movies that will stay with you long after the credits finish rolling. This is in large part thanks, no doubt, to Ian McEwan, the author of the book from which this film is adapted. Anyone familiar with McEwan’s work recognizes the power of his written word. His book ‘Atonement’ also inspired the 2007 Oscar contender. Scriptwriter Joe Penhall (who wrote the script for this fall’s much anticipated ‘The Road) is credited with ‘Enduring Love’s’ adaptation.

‘Love’ is directed by Roger Michell (The Mother, Notting Hill) and was released in 2004. He wastes no time showing is talent at creating raw energy and suspense. In the first scene of the film, a quiet meadow is disturbed by a hot air balloon with two passengers ripping through out of control. The only witnesses (including Joe, played by Daniel Craig, and Jed, played by Rhys Ifan) rush to the aid of these two, attempting to pull the balloon down to safety. Just as the task is almost accomplished, a burst of air takes sends the balloon airborne again. The group of men hanging on to the basket hang on as long as they can, but each drops to the ground as they raise higher and higher. All, except one man, who clings on as they float higher and higher. Eventually he drops from a terrific height to a gruesome death.

It’s from this magnificently shot scene that the movie starts its story line. You see, Jed feels that he and Joe share an intense, personal, and erotic bond having shared this horrible experience. He quickly shows signs of obsession, showing up in Joe’s life in all the strangest places. He insinuates himself deeper and deeper into Joe’s life, bit by bit, showing up at odd moments and then shadowing him with a persistent desperation Joe cannot understand or escape.

The film is shot beautifully. It’s worth the price of a rental if only for the opening sequence. Daniel Craig performs solidly along side Bill Nighy (who, despite his small role, can’t help but steal the scenes he’s in) Joe’s girlfriend Claire, played by Samantha Morton, is just as entertaining to watch. However, none of these performances compare to the disturbing portrayal of Jed by Rhys Ifan. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so creeped out by character in a film. The subtleties of his performance will haunt you.

Admittedly, the film loses control of itself as it goes along. It seems that during the last 20 minutes, somebody decided to just stop trying and resort to a level that insults the intelligence of the rest of the film. All in all, the film has some strikingly beautiful moments and certainly deserves at least one viewing.

3 out of 4 stars

Rated R for language, some violence and a disturbing image.

Rottentomatoes: 59% — Cream of the Crop: 58%