The enormous critical and commercial success of the $288-million-grossing Bridesmaids will likely serve as a line of demarcation of sorts in Hollywood, but the witty, engaging female-oriented comedic ensemble L!fe Happens should come with an asterix, for no mere knock-off is it. Penned before Bridesmaids but only now seeing release, the Los Angeles-set movie, born of collaboration between director Kat Coiro and star Krysten Ritter, winningly marries a female buddy comedy with single mother drama, a pinch of bawdiness, sharp characterizations and some slyly observed situational humor.

There’s a Dorothy Parker-esque snap to some the dialogue, delivered with aplomb by in particular Ritter and Kate Bosworth, who exhibit a great rapport. But the thing that is most noteworthy and heartening about L!fe Happens is its emotional and psychological underpinning, which is consistent, and not constructed for sitcom whimsy or scene-to-scene contrivance. Conflicts and resolutions in various relationships are informed by characters’ maturations or, as often as not, their chafing at change. Co-writers Coiro and Ritter also deserve credit for addressing the manner in which new friendships often impede or complicate existing ones, particularly in communal living situations. For the full, original review, from Screen International, click here. (PMK*BNC, R, 100 minutes)

If not for Bernie Madoff, Marc Dreier would likely be the name presently most synonymous with modern-era, American white collar swindling, to the tune of $750 million in fraud. The well packaged documentary Unraveled provides a fascinating look at the psychology and rationalizations of such a criminal mastermind, unfolding in a series of reflective interviews over the last two months of Dreier’s house arrest prior to criminal sentencing, in the gilded cage of his Upper East Side penthouse. If the cinematic treatment of crime is too often distilled to black-and-white morality in the name of entertainment, this engaging movie is awash in grey — about contemptible acts arising from unique opportunities. As such, while not at all exonerating Dreier, it raises uncomfortable ancillary questions about both the grander state of responsibilities and priorities in the United States, as well as a lack of cultural shame.



The basic framework of Unraveled is certainly found in the more formal sit-down interviews to which Dreier submits, recounting in chronological fashion some of the specifics of his rise and fall. In 1998 he started his own law firm, and first dabbled in fraud in 2002, forging a series of documents and promissory notes to hedge fund managers to obtain ever-increasing lines of credit under the names of richer clients, business associates and real estate developers like Sheldon Solow. But the random snippets of day-to-day life and confessions of boredom and creeping depression (“I read the newspaper, but almost everything in the world is irrelevant to me”) are just as revelatory, if not even more so. Under armed guard, and monitored with an ankle bracelet, this former jet-setting titan of industry is forced to watch his freedom on a countdown clock, unsure of whether the government’s requested 145-year term might effectively end his chances at ever being released on parole.

Director Marc H. Simon (no relation) exhibits smart instincts about how to piece together his narrative, eschewing talking head contextualization to give his movie a more cogent center and strongly felt identification. One doesn’t have to like Dreier or even feel sorry for him in order to feel and appreciate the tightened screws of the movie’s focus. Unraveled takes what on the surface could be a complex scheme and, by funneling it through Dreier himself, makes it easily comprehensible both in and of itself and as a macro example of the sort of deregulation mania that led to the American financial collapse of 2008.

Unraveled isn’t visually staid and boring, either. Using cinematography in a manner reminiscent of if not similar to The Kid Stays In the Picture, Simon also makes his space come alive in unique fashion, recreating in contrasting fashion Dreier’s $10.4 million apartment both before and after the seizure of his assets. This isn’t senseless or emotionally empty showing off, either, since Dreier also talks about using both charities and his vast art collection as leverage, to project an image and attract more clients for his bogus notes and schemes.

Still, the window into Dreier’s mind is Unraveled‘s chief point of interest, and it’s a doozy. He is contrite, and says all the right things, but in discussions with his lawyers is also seen wishing to slightly qualify his deceit, based on the number and type of victims. What punishment does Dreier “deserve,” then? An early admission, throwaway but perhaps telling, about toiling and feeling resentment while working for (richer) clients, back before he ever committed fraud, is likely to spark equally divisive thoughts about his make-up. But part of the beauty and effectiveness of Unraveled is that, despite the intimacy of its portrayal, it doesn’t cheaply advocate, it merely presents a case and lets the audience be its jury. For more information on the movie, click here. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Showtime/Ambush Entertainment, unrated, 94 minutes)

Offbeat and shaggy but never emotionally false or hollow, director Steve Taylor’s Blue Like Jazz is a precious, precocious coming-of-age story that highlights the difficulties of reconciling the manner in which one has been raised with the discovery and integration of new thoughts, ideas and belief systems. Based on Donald Miller’s semi-autobiographical novel of the same name — and adapted for the screen in a somewhat unusual but decidedly fruitful collaboration between Miller, Taylor and cinematographer Ben Pearson — the movie is a delightfully engaging dramedy that wrestles in a psychologically honest manner with questions so prominent in young adulthood, while also never losing its basic pulse of entertainment.



After impulsively escaping the religious fundamentalist trappings of his small Texas hometown, which he had heretofore embraced, Trinity Bible College student Don (Marshall Allman, above left) throws caution to the wind and enrolls at an exceedingly progressive liberal arts school in Portland, Oregon. A bit overwhelmed by both the free-spiritedness of his classmates, Don quickly makes a group of new pals, including lesbian Lauryn (Tania Raymonde) and an iconoclastic party master known around campus simply as The Pope (Justin Welborn), so named because of his appointment to traditionally absolve students of their sins at the school’s notorious, semester-closing three-day bacchanal, the Renn Fayre. Don is also befriended by the socially conscious Penny (Claire Holt, above right), upon whom he in short order develops a strong crush. But by willfully turning his back on his Christian upbringing and beliefs, is Don growing up, or merely mirroring who he thinks others want to see?

Eccentric and idiosyncratic but never really cloying or quirky in insincere ways, Blue Like Jazz achieves a sum even greater than the whole of its parts because it’s so suffused with humanity, and swollen with feeling. While its setting and basic narrative structure are both quite different, the movie in some ways recalls Richard Linklater’s superlative Dazed and Confused in its weird touches and lively energy.

Director Taylor makes good use of the city of Portland and some of its bohemian personality. In one sequence, agitating-for-change students stage a costumed “robot takeover” of a local corporate-owned bookstore; another throwaway bit involves the heckling of Don in a light sprinkle of rain, when a passerby lobs the insult, “Nice umbrella!” Taylor, Pearson, production designer Cyndi Williams and costume designer Amy Patterson also concoct a warm and winning look for the film, all on a budget, and a couple imaginative animated segments help give the movie a dizzy injection of feeling too. Some literary adaptations — especially those rooted in actual personal events — suffer from too rigid a devotion to factual occurrence. Blue Like Jazz, however wonderfully balances the oblique with the more forthrightly dramatic.

None of this would necessarily quite matter, however, if the film’s acting weren’t so strong. Allman is a revelation, naturalistic yet entirely sympathetic, while Welborn takes his larger-than-life character — literally always dressed in a mitre and pontiff’s robes — and makes him something full-bodied and surprisingly multi-dimensional. On the big screen religious belief is often characterized in either broad or flippant strokes, especially in movies aimed at or focusing upon younger folks. In an intellectually honest way, though, Blue Like Jazz digs into tumultuous adolescent feelings regarding faith and its hypocrisy, and makes the point that we can all benefit from a little grand conviction and devotion in all lives. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Roadside Attractions, PG-13, 107 minutes)