The AFI Films You Need to See

RAMPART Woody Harrelson is getting to the point in his career where his lack of formal recognition probably feels like a problem — the kind of problem a movie like Rampart seems to exist primarily to solve. Directed by Oren Moverman (The Messenger) from a script co-written by L.A. noir master James Ellroy, Rampart tracks the downward spiral of Dave Brown (Harrelson), a cop whose unique moral code allows for extreme bad behavior (sex, drugs, casual racism, indiscriminate violence) in the name of a hazily defined greater good. Set in the wake of the titular cop scandal, Brown's blur of self-destruction and slipping grip on reality dovetail with the LAPD's public relations campaign meant to prove that the police are capable of policing themselves. To Ellroy and Moverman's credit, the conspiracy machinations that ensue are never allowed to overwhelm their character study of a monster, whom they manage to humanize without pardoning or guaranteeing redemption. Making a meal of Brown's seductive sociopathy and ugly desperation, Harrelson turns this blatant Oscar-bait gambit into eminently watchable pulp. —Karina Longworth

THE SILVER CLIFF Here's further proof, if any were necessary, that the easiest and most effective means of generating tension and excitement is to skip right past the so-called "inciting incident." Set in Rio, Karim Aïnouz's tender character study establishes the ordinary routine of a middle-aged woman (Alessandra Negrini), happily married with children and content with her job as a dentist, who goes from serene to frantic in the space of an ordinary, unobtrusive cut, embarking upon a nocturnal odyssey through the city streets. What happened? We don't yet know, but it's amazing how immediately one can identify with a character in crisis, even in a vacuum. By the time Aïnouz finally reveals what's going on, the hook has been sunk deep enough to ward off any Oh-is-that-all? reaction, especially given Negrini's magnificently volatile performance as a woman who can't stand still but for the time being has nowhere to go. The film goes a bit soft toward the end, following the introduction of a father-daughter combo who are equally adrift and ripe for tentative bonding, but it nonetheless remains a lovely, minor-key portrait of intolerable impotence gradually dissipating into weary acquiescence, framed by Rio's daylight cacophony and nighttime twinkling. —Mike D'Angelo

Location Info

Map

American Film Institute

2021 N. Western Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90027

Category: Community Venues

Region: Los Feliz

0 user reviews	Write A Review

Related Content

• Berlin Discoveries: Greatness Emerges at the Year's First Major International Film Festival
  February 14, 2013
• Best L.A. Novel Ever: L.A. Confidential vs. The Black Echo, Round 3
  April 26, 2013
• Rampart Review
  November 24, 2011
• Best L.A. Novel Ever: L.A. Confidential vs. Double Indemnity, Round 2
  March 22, 2013
• Almayer's Folly by the Elusive Director Chantal Akerman Is Thrilling...and Its Screening Includes a Belgian Beer Party
  July 18, 2012

More About

• Roman Polanski
• Alexander Sokurov
• Mike D'Angelo
• Chantal Akerman
• Arts, Entertainment, and Media

SPARK OF BEING Experimental filmmaker Bill Morrison's version of Frankenstein, clocking in at just over an hour, not only tells the classic tale but, in its piecemeal construction, also embodies it. Spark of Being is comprised of images lifted from crackling old nitrate films that are then recontextualized — given fresh life — alongside new, artfully distressed footage. It's all set to a shape-shifting jazz score by Dave Douglas that runs the gamut from nightclub cool to thrillingly cacophonous. Broken into chapters — "The Doctor's Creation," "The Creature's Education," "Observations of Romantic Love" — the film is faithful to some of the most iconic passages of Shelley's text, presenting moments (the mysterious body pulled from icy waters at the book's beginning; the little girl picking flowers) that provide familiar narrative anchors while abstract, impressionistic images fill the screen. As the film progresses, its chapters become shorter and the overall narrative and images presented become more linear, almost conventional, making it seem like Morrison ran out of steam or ideas by the end of the project. The bulk of the film is so captivating, however, that you don't feel cheated. —Ernest Hardy

THE TURIN HORSE No movie could possibly live up to the monumental, forbidding grandeur of The Turin Horse's lengthy opening shot, but Hungarian master of morbid Bela Tarr, who insists this will be his final film, goes ahead and attempts the impossible, and comes frighteningly close to succeeding. (You really wouldn't want him to, honest.) Shot in stark, high-contrast black-and-white, it's set almost entirely in a single sparsely furnished farmhouse, where a middle-aged man and his daughter live in silence, performing the same repetitive tasks each day: Fetch water from well, hitch horse to cart, boil two potatoes (to be eaten by hand — and did I mention that Dad has only one functioning arm?). On the second day, the horse won't budge, which proves to be only the first step in the agonizingly slow shutdown process of what appears to be the entire world. No bleaker film has ever been made, to my knowledge — if this were a William Castle production, viewers would be handed cyanide pills with their tickets — but there's no denying the powerful integrity of Tarr's all-encompassing desolation. Just be sure you can hack it. —Mike D'Angelo