Reviews

I can't wait for my next three-Martini film! If Lymelife can be done in less than a month, let's have at least two more before year's end––the last positioned for awards season. Yes, I worry this remarkable film will be unheralded and forgotten in eight months. I can visualize every member of this excellent cast reading the script and beginning to drool. All this tight, little character-driven story needed was a cast that knew whereof it spoke and a director who could give that cast's instincts and improvisational abilities free rein. Obviously, the Martini brothers with a cathartic, autobiographical exercise in familial dysfunction said, "Hey, the Culkins will know where we're coming from!" And do they ever! The scenes between the brothers are heartbreaking in their awareness of fraternal love and filial disillusionment.

The sexual initiation scenes are tender, funny and soooo real. The floundering, faulty adults, right on the nose! This is Timothy Hutton's best work since Ordinary People.

The 1979 setting is subtly established by the scrupulously selected music and the vehicles of the time. The only effort to tie in current events in this post-Viet Nam war-weary era is an almost subliminal reference to the takeover of the American embassy in Tehran. And this is all so right, because the characters and relationships, which is what we're here for, are timeless.

The symbolism––right up to the real estate baron bearing the cross of a For Sale sign––hits just the right note. if you have a chance to see this film, go.

This ensemble multi-ethnic cast turns in solid performances in this formulaic treatment of the everyday dramas faced by the hard working folks at Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Mexican, Chinese, Palestinian, Australian and Persian plots carom off each other like Olympic Billiards as Harrison Ford, (whose obviously impending retirement is thankfully never mentioned), his heart bleeding from frame one to the credits, leads a solitary existence in an apartment at what has to be the Alimony Arms Hotel. There is no attempt to patch over the Crash/Babel formula; the film embraces it and comes up with some fine set pieces like a gripping intervention (Cliff Curtis and Justin Chon) during a convenience store robbery/shootout. The aerial views of L.A. will make natives want to freeze-frame future DVDs to ID where we are. The climax (NO SPOILER) is played against an attenuated rendering of the National Anthem and packs a punch. Unfortunately, there has to be another five minutes of Tying Up Loose Ends. Does it sound like I didn't like this much? On the contrary, it was 113 minutes well spent and shouldn't have been relegated to the Purgatory of February. April, maybe?

I viewed this at an awards screening followed by a Q&A with the director and two of the stars. Amazing what can be done with half a million dollars, a 20-day shooting schedule and (according to the director) no ambitions past the Sundance Film Festival! The writer/director takes a young man dealing with his dwarfism, a divorcée grieving for a dead child, a young Cuban-American caring for his ailing father and a friendless 13 year-old girl who collects railroad spikes and throws them together in the backwaters of New Jersey. The result is a film that has you rooting for everyone in general and these four in particular. And in this age when "sequel" is a deservedly dirty word--when this film ends, one wants to know these people for the rest of their lives no matter how many more movie tickets he might have to buy.

One of the minor characters in this film, a host to a vile alien creature, begins to bloat and make disgusting noises and smells. Dreamcatcher, host to at least four half-baked plot genres, takes about 20 minutes to start bloating and not much longer to manage the rest. I love alien pix, quirky psychological pix, medical emergency pix, military out-of-control pix and youthful bonding pix. But pixomething and stick with it! This is a sorry exercise in film making. Someone needs to go into Stephen King's cinematic memory warehouse and start planning a garage sale. Has anyone counted the automobile and truck accidents in his films? Could the vehicle that actually hit Stephen have really been his karma? Now THERE'S a film!

Not since William Saroyan has a playwright/screenwriter populated his work with nothing but good guys, trying to be better--and thoroughly engaged an audience--while they struggle to cope with the only "heavy" in sight: life. One leaves the theatre thinking about his own priorities and rooting for all three of the (magnificently portrayed) men on the screen. Personally, I would like someday to meet (not here...in some other place) the elusive, barely seen but profoundly felt title character.