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Youth

About three-quarters of the way through Italian writer/director Paolo Sorrentino’s Youth, Fred Ballinger (Michael Caine) and his best friend Mick Boyle (Harvey Keitel) watch a totally nude Miss Universe (Madalina Diana Ghenea) slowly enter a hot tub. “Who is THAT?” Fred says.

“God,” Mick says.

Waiting to meet God is the primary theme of Youth, which recently took home Best Film, Best Director, and Best Actor for Caine at the European Film Awards. When we meet Fred, the retired composer is meeting with a representative of Queen Elizabeth, who is offering him knighthood if he will only agree to come out of retirement and conduct his composition “Simple Songs” in a command performance. He refuses, citing “personal reasons.” He and Mick are staying at an ultra posh resort in the Swiss Alps that cinematographer Luca Bigazzi has a grand old time filming. But the constantly excellent food, happy-ending massages, and mediocre entertainment somehow only add to the funereal atmosphere. The name of the sculpture in the hotel lobby says it all: Alpine Prison. Fred has lost his hunger for creation, and thus his will to live.

Harvey Keitel, and Michael Caine in Youth

Mick, on the other hand, is at the hotel with a staff of writers creating his next film, which he calls “my testament.” His love of creation is intact, and that keeps his mind young, even if he can’t get it up for the fetching young prostitute who haunts the lobby.

Beside the ace cinematography, Caine and Keitel’s buddy routine is the best thing about Youth. Mick tries to puncture Fred’s growing cynicism and apathy, while Fred works hard at doing absolutely nothing. Sorrentino’s screenplay bounces the pair off of an unlikely group of well-heeled hotel guests, none of whom seem to be having any fun whatsoever. Fred’s daughter, Lena (Rachel Weisz), endures the dissolution of her marriage. Actor Jimmy Tree (Paul Dano) is sullenly preparing for a role in a historical drama that, when revealed, gets the film’s biggest laugh. The once-youthful superstar footballer Maradona (Roly Serrano) is now morbidly obese, but still mobbed by fans. Veteran actress Brenda Morel (Jane Fonda) arrives late in the action to drop some plot bombshells and throw the most epic fit of the 2015 film season.

Caine glides through the loose collection of vignettes like some kind of ghost who hasn’t gotten around to dying yet. The slow revelation of the source of his pain is masterful and depends almost entirely on Caine’s facial control. Some of Sorrentino’s digressions work, and some of them don’t. The dialogue is occasionally clunky in an English-as-a-second-language kind of way. But as long as Caine and Keitel are around, ogling the young women and antagonizing the bored rich, Youth remains compelling.

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Throwback August: Batman Begins

Christian Bale as Batman drops in.


Batman Begins
(2005; dir. Christopher Nolan)—Here’s a weird observation about one of the most well-known films by one of the most resolutely “cinematic” filmmakers working today: Batman Begins looks and plays better on television than it did in movie theaters. Its shallow, constricted neo-noir photography translates well to a smaller screen, and its numerous spatial and logical lapses—which range from mildly irksome to maddeningly distracting—aren’t as bothersome when broken up by ads for Rizzoli & Isles every fifteen minutes.

Although the image of Batman perched atop the spire of a building like a Kevlar gargoyle is both Pop Artsy and sly, Nolan’s dour, somber treatment of my favorite comic-book hero is mostly indifferent to or uninterested in humor and/or visual poetry. It is earnest, expository and ever-so-serious. But it is also unusually realistic in two key ways. First, it depicts Bruce Wayne/Batman as what he really (and unavoidably) is—a guilt-crazed borderline psychotic with an undiagnosed multiple-personality disorder who suffers from near-constant mental stress and physical pain. Christian Bale plays Wayne as a slightly less malevolent version of American Psycho’s Patrick Bateman, and love interest Rachel Dawes (Katie Holmes) unconsciously echoes that film’s final lines when she tells him, “Your real face is the one that criminals now fear. The man I loved, the man who vanished—he never came back at all.”

Lliam Neeson as Ras Al Gul

Second, Batman Begins offers the most detailed, nuts-and-bolts superhero-training sequences to date. It spends nearly an hour exploring Wayne’s training with the League of Shadows, reinforcing the importance of theatricality and deception in combat, and fetishizing Batarangs and black body armor. And, miraculously, it makes room for a lovely and honest-to-God fun moment when weapons techie Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman) responds to Wayne’s question about a giant camouflage-colored APC/AFV sitting in the corner by saying bashfully, “Oh, the Tumbler? Oh, you wouldn’t be interested in that…” 

Katie Holms (reclining) as Rachel Dawes

Human-scale humanism is rare in this brutal, nearly blood-free PG-13 blockbuster, but the trio of paternal subordinates watching over and working with Batman—Fox, butler Alfred (Michael Caine), and inspector Jim Gordon (Gary Oldman)—provide much-needed emotional support and average-guy gravitas which balance the fight scenes and Machiavellian meditations on justice, revenge and symbolic power.

Michael Caine as Alfred

Batman Begins is strong enough to stand on its own, but as its final scene makes clear, it’s equally effective as the first part of a nine-hour epic that accrues considerable emotional power and thematic significance if you ever sit down and watch all three films back-to-back-to-back—a draining, highly enjoyable experience not unlike binge-watching a really good season of a really good TV show.

Grade: A-


Throwback August: Batman Begins