Things We Lost In The Fire (2007)

★ ★ ★ 1/2





Some actors are typecast early in their careers. They are doomed to play the same role over and over, with decreasing success. Benicio Del Toro is one of the rare exceptions to this rule. Most of Del Toro's major roles have dealt with drugs, and addiction. Even his most recent role, The Wolfman dealt with the subject of addiction obliquely. Yet somehow, Del Toro seems to add an additional layer of complexity to his oeuvre with each role. In Fear and Loathing, he played a comedic, yet frightfully erratic junkie. In Sin City, he played a merciless, abusive drunk. His character in Things We Lost In The Fire provides a stark contrast.

Things We Lost In The Fire is a story about the fallout of a homicide. Audrey (Halle Berry), plays a widow, left with a young family, and the grief of her husband's recent death. Jerry (Del Toro), her husband's best friend, is a drug addict who is shaken by the death of his only friend. Jerry has avoided Audrey for years, since she disapproved of her husband's relationship with a heroin addict. Were it not for her husband's demise, she may not have ever seen him again. He likely would have died in an alley somewhere. This is how she felt it ought to have been.








This was arguably Del Toro's best role to date. Jerry seems to represent a best case drug rehab scenario, though we're always aware of his vulnerability. He is eerily detached, especially when listening to music or having a cigarette. He seems to immerse himself in these activities the way that only a recovering addict could. Halle Berry was no slouch either. There is a fine line between depressed and mopey. She deserves major credit for straddling that line. It's rare to see two actors so excel in such difficult roles simultaneously. There was a kind of synergy that is quite rare.

Though the acting made the movie, Susanne Bier's gritty directorial style certainly complemented the leading roles. Shifty camcorder shots helped accentuate the sense of disarray. This disarray would momentarily stop every time the camera peered into Halle Berry's eyes, or paused on Del Toro's face. It's as though Bier was trying to plunge the audience into the depth of their souls. From this close, we could just see that tiny glimmer of hope left for them. This is one of the most mature, and ultimately hopeful cinematic treatments of grief, and addiction. A wonderful English language debut for Susanne Bier.

The Wolfman (2010)

★ ★ ★ ★



The Wolfman is yet another in a string of genre defining reinventions. It is to the monster genre what The Dark Knight is to the superhero genre, and Sherlock Holmes is to detective films. The critics weren't thrilled by it, but this shouldn't be surprising. There was relatively little violence for a horror film, and there is a level of complexity that most critics seem unable to comprehend.

Most monster movies have one of three problems. First, they fall into the trap of all supernatural movies. The character seems almost impervious to harm, thus reducing the immediacy of potential dangers. Second, they fail to create an compelling bond between the monster, and other human beings. This makes it hard to care about the monster. Third, and most common, they typically fail to conjure up the philosophical potential of the genre. Coppola's Dracula is an example of a film that avoided these pitfalls, though it was marred by other technical issues that prevented it from meeting its full potential. Aside from that, The Wolfman is the only film in the genre since the silent era I can think of that avoided these issues.

Far from simply meeting my criteria, Joe Johnston's film exceeded my expectations on every level. Within the first minute of the film, I knew it would be great. The cinematography was brilliant. Every shot had it's purpose. The often dizzying camera movement slowly fleshes out the surroundings, conveying a sense of vulnerability. We know there's something out there, and we know that there is nowhere to hide.

I cannot imagine a more perfect Wolfman than Benecio Del Toro. The additional facial hair almost looks natural on Del Toro, and his detached demeanor made him a natural for the role. Anthony Hopkins was solid as the elder Talbot, and Hugo Weaving was well cast as the lead detective. Much to my surprise, the stand out role was played by Emily Blunt. As The Wolfman's only connection to humanity, she is the thread that holds the film together.







The Wolfman explores the connection between trauma and social deviance. As we gradually discover tidbits from Lawrence's past, the allegory becomes evident. The Wolfman is a product of its environment. It is a dangerous creature, that can only be cured at great personal risk to others. Some will say that the only way to cure it is to release it from its burden. Perhaps this is the case. This is a revelation that has profound consequences with respect to rehabilitation, and mental illness. It is one of those possibilities that no one wants to explore. As human beings, we tend to avoid such unpleasant thoughts. The mark of a truly great film is that it challenges our prior beliefs. By this measure, The Wolfman is a major success. Don't let the critics dissuade you. Cinematic experiences of this quality are few and far between. Catch it while you still can.