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Father of My Children
Mia Hansen-Løve
Michaël Abiteboul , Chiara Caselli, Alice de Lencquesaing, Louis-Do de Lencquesaing, Manelle Driss
Mia Hansen-Love’s film draws its inspiration from the life of independent French film producer Humbert Balsan, fictionalised here as Grégoire Carvel and played with charm and presence by Louis-Do de Lencquesaing. Carvel seems initially to have it all, but the movie gradually reveals him to be a man in crisis, crippled mostly by the pressures of his work, pressures that lead him to a shocking action midway through the film. Hansen-Love’s approach is discreet and understated but ultimately very powerful. Father of My Children subtly pulls the viewer into intimacy with its characters and refuses to either demonise or deify any of the people that it shows us. The movie has an extraordinary unfussy naturalism and the performances that the director coaxes from the young actresses who play Carvel’s three children (including Alice de Lencquesaing, Louis-Do’s real-life daughter) are beyond praise. The director also offers a sobering account of the practicalities of film financing and production, while some inspired music choices greatly enhance tone and mood. “I wanted to make a film that gives you both the cruelty and the beauty of life, the happiness along with the sadness,” Hansen-Love has said. That not inconsiderable feat is precisely what Father of My Children achieves. 
Alex Ramon
Freakanomics
Seth Gordon, Morgan Spurlock, Alex Gibney, Eugene Jarecki, Rachel Grady, Heidi Ewing
Jade Viggiano, Zoe Sloane, Amancaya Aguilar, Alyssa Wheeldon, Sammuel Soifer, Kellie Gerardi
Anthology films are not a popular format today, perhaps because they remind people too much of television which they could be watching at home for free. But it’s the perfect format for Freakonomics which presents some of the key ideas from the bestselling book by the same name by Steven Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner. Levitt’s specialty is using methods of economic analysis to questions never contemplated by John Maynard Keynes, such as: does paying kids to get good grades work? Does legalized abortion lower the crime rate? Does it matter what you name your child? These questions and more are examined in four separate segments by an all-star team of directors—Alex Gibney, Morgan Spurlock, Eugene Jarecki, Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady—which both examine the questions posed and demonstrate how statistical methods may be used to investigate issues which at first seem entirely resistant to analysis. Sarah Boslaugh
Get Low
The New York premiere of Get Low was received with overwhelming critical acclaim—and rightfully so. The mixture of solemn and comical tones, along with an all-star cast (Robert Duvall, Sissy Spacek, and Bill Murray), was a recipe for cinematic prominence. But with such prodigious ingredients, was first-time feature film director Aaron Schneider up for the task? Fortunately, the rookie came out like a seasoned vet, conducting a charming story, filled with emotional twists and turns. Schneider’s strong suit was his ability to seamlessly string all the characters together. Despite being quite distinct, the cast had an undeniable chemistry throughout. Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) is originally perceived as an aged, grim hermit, who guards his privacy at the highest cost. In an attempt to gain forgiveness from the townspeople and those he cares about, he decides to throw a funeral party. With the help of money-hungry funeral home owner, Frank Quinn (Bill Murray), and his pretty boy sidekick, Buddy Robinson (Lucas Black), we are led on a journey of passion and wit. Juxtaposing the irritated temperament of Duvall with the artful jest of Murray, their two characters produce some unbelievably charming dialogues. David Reyneke
How to Train Your Dragon
Chris Sanders, Dean DeBlois
Jay Baruchel, America Ferrera, Gerard Butler, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Jonah Hill, Craig Ferguson
This entertaining and often exhilarating Dreamworks computer-animated film works on almost every level. It is both a marvelous visual experience, featuring lots of roller coaster dragon’s-eye-view sequences, and a smartly constructed piece of fantasy. It’s funny, charming, touching, and exciting—everything a children’s fable should be. I loved it. It isn’t hard to read How to Train Your Dragon as an allegory about the central problem with our prosecution of the War on Terror. A kid-friendly version of the lesson we have as yet utterly failed to learn, How to Train Your Dragon presents two apparently irreconcilable forces (warlike Vikings who define their identities through their steadfast defense of their community and the apparently mindless killing machines who are the dragons), and then considers what might happen if they were to get to know one another and try to work out a non-violent solution to their problems. Turns out, they might just have a common enemy that they can confront together, overcome, and live in harmony ever after. Stuart Henderson
The Human Centipede
It really should be an opera. It does cater to a considerably questionable niche, one with the creative constitution to tolerate its twisted, uncompromising brutality. But it’s not just some pseudo-snuff film gussied up with gallons of grue or smut disguised as some insight into the haunted human psyche. While definitely not for everyone, it is also an arresting and imminently watchable work of jaundiced genius. It takes a certain crackpot mentality to come up with an idea as unhinged as this and to offer it in such a concise, clinic manner speaks volumes. Bill Gibron
