Above-the-line stars get most of the credit and glory for Hollywood successes, but dozens if not hundreds of other specially gifted artisans labor on most big-budget productions, often going their entire careers without so much as an acknowledged tip of the proverbial cap from the moviegoing public at large. Director Craig McCall’s fascinating documentary Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff, then, attempts to right this wrong, shining a light on Cardiff, who on March 25, 2001 — more than five decades after winning his first Academy Award, for his stunning work on Black Narcissus — became the first cinematographer ever presented with an honorary Oscar, for his exceptional contributions to the state of motion picture arts and sciences.

If there’s a strike against this picture, it’s that it unfolds in a very linear and somewhat unimaginative fashion. Cameraman lacks a real spine, and doesn’t delve at all into Cardiff’s (doubtlessly fascinating) personal life. More about what shaped him in his young, formative years (there’s one scene that touches on this, but it seems the tip of an iceberg), as well as how Cardiff coped for so long with the itinerant lifestyle of a cinematographer and director, would have given McCall’s movie a much-needed extra dimensionality. Regardless, as is, Cameraman is a captivating look back at a transitory time — before basically all movies were made in color — when cinematography was slightly more welded to the emotion of the material, and used unabashedly to heighten the effect of genre elements. That Cardiff’s unique role in this era, and spanning the periods that both preceded and followed it, finally receives its own recognition is indeed a special thing. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Strand, unrated, 94 minutes)

Bill and Kate (Michael Sheen and Maria Bello), a married couple already on the verge of separation, find their lives torn completely apart when their college-age son, Sam (Kyle Gallner), goes on a shooting rampage at his school, and then takes his own life. In the pained weeks that follow, as they avoid an inquisitive media by first staying with family and then holing up a dingy hotel room, the tragedy both brings them together a bit while also exposing the seams of old grudges and wounds.

The rawness and unprecious nature of the lead performances in Beautiful Boy help director Shawn Ku’s film achieve a certain hold, enough so that fans of Bello and Sheen, or merely engaging, quality drama, will certainly find some reward in this low-fi offering. Cinematographer Michael Fimognari’s lingering handheld camerawork abets this restrained tack, which largely (though not entirely) eschews calculation and pointed drama in pursuit of something more melancholic and ephemeral.

Still, Beautiful Boy cries out for if not a stronger parental investment into delving into Sam’s anguished past (a thread which Ku clearly wants to avoid), then at the very least a more crisply observed final unraveling or more direct and sustained outside pressure upon these characters. (A burgling of the couple’s home by a souvenir-curious teen seems utterly contrived.) There are some pockets of intrigue, including a writer, possibly with ulterior motives, cozying up to Kate, who works as a proofreader. But for the most part the audience is a step ahead of the film when it comes to other conflicts (like the stress involved in Bill’s return to work), and thus left to only bob along in an ocean of nondescript grief. (Anchor Bay, R, 100 minutes)

Writer-director Mike Mills’ Beginners is the sort of movie that you never really stop wanting to love, even as it flits about and tests the boundaries of your attention. Warm, full of life and little tidbits that illuminate the bonds of love in a more elliptical yet realistic fashion than the plodding literalness of most conventional Hollywood relationship dramedies, it is distinctive — the product of a singular point-of-view, not some canned corporate mandate for surefire emotional response.



When Oliver (Ewan McGregor), a quietly grief-stricken graphic artist, meets unpredictable actress Anna (Mélanie Laurent, above) at a party, it triggers memories of his father Hal (Christopher Plummer), who passed away several months earlier, after a battle with cancer that followed his coming out of the closet after 45 years of marriage to Oliver’s mother. As the pair try to craft a relationship, Oliver thinks back over his own life, and ponders the lives of his parents.

Mills (Thumbsucker) has a canted sensibility that gives his movie a handcrafted, idiosyncratic feel, unsurprising since Beginners is based on personal experiences that dovetail with the narrative. Interweaving scenes from Oliver’s childhood with other narrated bits, and sequences with both Hal and Anna, Mills crafts an impressionistic snapshot of a guy fumbling toward a greater contentment. Scene to scene, this makes for some magical moments that capture how life lessons often arrive on tape delay, occurring long after some inciting incident. Mills, too, has a superb instinct for low-key comedy, evidenced in the sardonic subtitled interjections of Hal’s forlorn Jack Russell terrier, which Oliver takes in.

But there isn’t much of a sense of destination here. Despite ample chemistry, the love story between Oliver and Anna never completely sets sail, at least not in a way that rips and tears at a viewer’s heart, in pained identification. And while some of the maladies or hang-ups that plague the pair seem elucidated, there’s also a nagging feeling that they aren’t given a full, substantial airing and accounting by the characters themselves. This is a messy valentine — fitfully wonderful but also incomplete. (Focus, R, 104 minutes)