With his star turn in Birdman, Michael Keaton is deservedly this year's comeback kid at the movies, with both critics and audiences lining up to praise his exceptional performance and the movie's creative audacity. On the home screen, if there's any justice, Frances McDormand is going to receive all that and more when Olive Kitteridge, the miniseries in which she stars, debuts on HBO Sunday, Nov. 2, and Monday, Nov. 3.
The actress—who has always defied easy categorization and who willfully eschews standard leading-lady tropes—is sensational in this four-hour tour de force that out writer Jane Anderson ( from Elizabeth Strout's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel ) adapted and that out director Lisa Cholodenko ( The Kids Are All Right ) helmed.
Everyone in the small coastal town of Crosby, Maine, knows Olive Kitteridge, the cranky junior-high math teacher who doesn't suffer fools gladly and whose sour demeanor is distinctly at odds with her always-optimistic husband, Henry ( Richard Jenkins ), the town's pharmacist. Nightly, Olive and their son, Christopher ( played as an adult by John Gallagher Jr. ), deride Henry's chirpy observations about his new employee, the equally sunny Denise ( Zoe Kazan ). It quickly becomes evident that Henry is deeply smitten with Denise but it's also clear that Olive has her own infatuation with Jim O'Casey ( Peter Mullan ), another teacher at Olive's school.
That's just the starting point for Anderson's script, which follows the course of Olive's life in the succeeding 25 years and her impact on various other characters ( and theirs on hers ). As we are drawn into Olive's world, clues to her difficult outlook slowly emerge, expectations are upended and, slowly, Olive's deep-seated humanity becomes apparent.
McDormand, who hasn't ever had a part this good on film ( with the exception of Fargo, of course ) invests Olive with subtleties that are achingly real. She's perverse, appallingly rude, unexpectedly witty, whip-smart and fiercely unsentimental. Moments of naked emotion are rare and arrive as wondrous gifts. ( Not unlike the carefully tended flower beds Olive slaves over, one must be patient to await these rare beauties. ) McDormand is matched by Jenkins, whose Henry is ever optimistic, no matter how many times Olive tries to deflate him. The supporting cast is no less excellent, each making his or her mark sometimes in as little as one scene. ( Bill Murray, who enters toward the end of the series, is a standout. )
Olive Kitteridge is a piece so subtle that the act of someone cleaning a pair of eyeglasses, buttering a baked potato or taking a nap takes on huge significance. Yet the deliberate pacing never drags. Cholodenko, as she did in The Kids Are All Right, finds moments to let everyone shine—sometimes with words, sometimes with as little as an awkward glance. The film is shot in an unfussy style that takes in the Maine seashore but doesn't romanticize it. Also, Carter Burwell's score features his typically evocative music, this time emphasizing Olive's underlying melancholy. ( "I am happy to be depressed," she insists, "Goes along with being smart." )
Not a lot seems to happen in this modern-day variation of Our Town or King's Row. There are no explosions, caped crusaders, giant robots or lizards in sight. But there are tragedies and glories, the rituals and eccentricities of everyday life ( the piano-bar entertainer is a hilarious motif ) and all those glorious characters so richly observed ( and, yes, there is a lesbian among them—though she is only mentioned and never seen ).
"Life is in the details," a wise philosopher once said. Olive Kitteridge certainly lives up to that telling assessment. http://www.hbo.com/olive-kitteridge#/
When gay figure-skating champion Johnny Weir, noted for his outrageous behavior, equally outrageous fashion sense and—more often than not—pissing off the gay community went to Russia last year to cover the Winter Olympics as a commentator, he took along a camera crew to record his experience. The resulting documentary ( which Weir executive-produced ), To Russia with Love, focuses on several of the openly gay athletes competing in the games and Russia's shameful anti-gay "propaganda law" that prohibits promotion of the "gay lifestyle" ( whatever that is ). When this homophobic nonsense was enacted, many queer activists called for a boycott of the Olympics—boycotts that were ultimately ignored.
Early in the documentary, Weir makes it clear to a roomful of reporters that he intends to ignore any attempts at boycotting, too. He insults the gay media but almost immediately apologizes, sighing that he's always in trouble with the queer community. As the film unfolds, it's not hard to see why, as this ditzy queen never gives much more than lip service to the dreadful treatment his queer brothers and sisters are receiving in the Russia that fascinates him. And when he comes face to face with a young Russian teen who all but begs for help with his dire daily situation, Weir, who is packing up to leave, again demurs from offering anything more than a quasi-sympathetic ear. Moments later in the film Billie Jean King, an ambassador to the games, spends five minutes with the teen and does just the opposite, swinging into action.
So while To Russia with Love won't exactly win Weir any new fans in the queer community ( although his wardrobe is pretty fetching ), when the movie focuses on the openly gay participants at the games it's much more successful in illuminating the dilemma of trying to do what they've trained so hard for and not speaking out about the mistreatment around them. ( The Olympic committee forbids any such protest. ) The film, which Jane Lynch narrates, makes a nice companion piece—albeit not as hard-hitting a one—as HBO's recent Hunted: The War Against Gays in Russia. The film premieres Oct. 29 on the EPIX cable channel. http://www.epixhd.com/movie/to-russia-with-love/
Film note:
—Get your Halloween on: Over the years I've recommended dozens of terrific fright flicks for those who love to create their own creature-feature marathon on Halloween.
Three new releases on Blu-ray are worthy editions for this year's list: Nightbreed: The Director's Cut, Clive Barker's restored movie which I wrote about in depth last week; Deliver Us from Evil, with sexy Eric Bana in an atmospheric addition to the exorcism genre and, for the classic horror fans out there, Shout Factory has just released The Vincent Price Collection II. The set includes seven films—each making its Blu-ray debut—that run the gamut from the comedic Comedy of Terrors to the atmospheric The House on Haunted Hill. The latter, which has been available in a zillion cheapie editions, looks great in a remastered version and gives us Price at his sardonic best. The set also includes a lavishly illustrated 24-page photo book.
Check out my archived reviews at www.windycitymediagroup.com or www.knightatthemovies.com . Readers can leave feedback at the latter website .
