Out of Sight

 

Director Steven Soderbergh

Soderbergh with Jennifer Lopez

George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez

OUT OF SIGHT         A-                                                                                                             USA  (123 mi)  1998  d: Steven Soderbergh     

I'm just gonna sit here, take it easy and wait for you to screw up.                                                   —Karen Sisco (Jennifer Lopez)

This foursome of films from 1998 to 2000, OUT OF SIGHT (1998), The Limey (1999), ERIN BROCKOVICH (2000), and Traffic (2000) represent Soderbergh working at the peak of his creative powers.  This is one of his finest efforts, named Entertainment Weekly’s Sexiest Movie Ever (50 Sexiest Movies Ever - Nick Kaufmann - LiveJournal) in a 2008 poll, a smooth, sophisticated and very sexy Hollywood thriller that features early performances in the budding careers of George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez, not yet stars, yet both sizzling onscreen and romantically involved in the most unorthodox fashion, as he is the handsome and charming Jack Foley, a career bank robber incarcerated at Glades Penitentiary in Florida, while she is Karen Sisco, a smooth-as-ice, intoxicatingly beautiful FBI Federal Marshal.  They meet while locked in the trunk of a getaway car as she’s kidnapped during a prison breakout when he is covered with mud, where the two have time on their hands to chat with one another and break the ice, actually discovering they have a mutual interest in classic Hollywood movies, talking about Faye Dunaway movies of all things, including the bad end of the otherwise likeable Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and Clooney misstating the famous line from Network (1976), also wondering whether Robert Redford hooked up romantically with Dunaway a little too easily in THREE DAYS OF THE CONDOR (1975), while he continues to stroke her thighs, “But in a nice way,” he insists.  Capturing the best of his directorial ideas, with an emphasis on stylish editing, sound, camerawork, frame compositions, and color, while still managing to maintain an independent director’s control over his films, Soderbergh has imported into Hollywood some of the formal preoccupations of experimental filmmaking, such as challenges to character identification and narrative structure, where his visionary style and his habit of playing with the timeline of events gave a new impetus to American cinema, though this inexplicably didn’t do well at the box office.  Adapted by screenwriter Scott Frank from a 1996 Elmore Leonard crime novel, best known for character-driven stories, the ongoing dialogue is exquisite, exuding razor-sharp wit, making excellent use of secondary roles, so much so that the directors could just as easily have been the smart-mouthed and wise-assed Coen Brothers, who perfectly recaptured Clooney’s acerbic criminal persona a few years later in O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000), while also generating a short-lived TV series appropriately named Karen Sisco, starring Carla Gugino as Sisco.  Casting is one of the more imaginative aspects of the film, as character development through the introduction of new faces continues to surprise the viewer from the first to the last shot, including Catherine Keener as Adele Delisi, Foley’s eccentric ex-wife, also brief appearances by Michael Keaton as FBI agent Ray Nicolette (Sisco’s husband) reprising his role in Quentin Tarantino’s Jackie Brown (1997), while lifelong criminal Samuel L. Jackson from that film also plays a similar role, beautifully photographed by Elliot Davis, typically using a handheld camera, featuring interior hotel scenes with a warm and memorable glow, and a jazzy score by Irish composer David Holmes.  Despite the passage of time, this film has lost none of its sophisticated elegance and charm.    

Seemingly brought together by fate, Foley, with a dubious reputation of more than 200 bank robberies while never using a weapon, fortuitously acknowledges the moment, “It’s like seeing someone for the first time, like you can be passing on the street, and you look at each other for a few seconds, and there’s this kind of a recognition like you both know something.  Next moment the person’s gone, and it’s too late to do anything about it.  And you always remember it because it was there, and you let it go, and you think to yourself, ‘What if I had stopped?  What if I had said something?’  What if, what if... it may only happen a few times in your life.”  Or maybe just once, she adds.  While the relationship is the pulsating heart of the film, like a throwback to the golden age of Bogart and Bacall, both displaying the self-assurance and sexiness that makes them naturally irresistible both to each other and to audiences, there is a novelistic structure onscreen, with more than enough subplots involving a host of vividly drawn characters.  Foley and Sisco don’t really acknowledge their interest in one another, yet in their minds they do, and in an oddly embarrassing moment where neither one is supposed to be where they are, he gives her a short little wave from an elevator as she’s sitting in a hotel lobby, eyes fixed on his before he disappears from view with his fellow partner in crime, Buddy Bragg (Ving Rhames), who helped break him out of prison.  While Foley exercises the buddy system, working professionally in public, or being surrounded by hordes of prison inmates, or ex-cons once he escapes, it’s as if he’s never alone and one wonders if he’s capable of private, reflective thought.  Lopez, on the other hand, sexy and determined, has a smart-mouthed, over-protective, yet adoring father, a now retired marshal (Dennis Farina) who worries about his daughter’s dating habits and thoughtfully gives her a gun for her birthday, but for the most part she exhibits a loner policy, as she doesn’t trust the current misogyny and system of male favoritism in place that represents the state of mind in the ranks of the FBI.  So she’s used to going her own way and taking care of herself, irrespective of what they may think of her.  When she goes looking for a career criminal named Maurice (Don Cheadle), aka Snoopy, a murderous ex-prizefighter, but instead finds Mosella (Viola Davis) as his embittered, long forgotten wife, Sisco does a number on Maurice’s brother, Kenneth (Isaiah Washington), an over-controlling serial rapist and male thug, who instantly senses a hot-blooded woman with a taste for violence, exhibiting a sensual lust for getting down and dirty on the floor with her, so she zaps him with a collapsible baton that leaves him otherwise immobile, saying “You wanted to tussle.  We tussled,” as she calmly walks out the door unscathed.

Following another Elmore Leonard novel brought to the screen, Barry Sonnenfeld’s GET SHORTY (1995), both adapted by Scott Frank and produced by Danny DeVito, this is a collective mosaic of genre pieces from past decades, including shootouts, a jewelry robbery, and prison breaks, full of zooms, jump cuts, flashbacks, flash-forwards, close-ups, freeze frames, and grainy images, as if to remind viewers we are watching a movie, with a heated romance at the center, bathed in the warmth of a retro design, with a deep respect for the classical forms, where much of the beauty of this film is the dazzling interplay between characters, which in the world of criminals is all about exuding an air of confidence, refusing to be defeated or brought down by anybody.  Oddly enough, this is also the same method for initiating romance, which is beautifully done here, one of the highlights of the film, a clever mix of image and dialogue and music, preceded by Sisco sitting alone in a near empty hotel bar being hit on by a bunch of out of town male imbeciles before Foley walks in and they have a serious conversation, where their thoughts jump ahead out of sequence and we see what they are about to do before they actually do it, a co-mingling of the sexual imagination and the real, gorgeously understated, memorably jazzy and intoxicating.  Fascinated by his carefree behavior, in the mold of Clark Gable, even their post-coital conversation has an air of authenticity not shared anywhere else in the film, where Sisco is allowed to have doubts creep in, and Foley, of course, ever vigilant, puts her mind at ease.  They call this little interlude a “timeout” before they resume back to their normal lives, where Foley and Maurice are in competition for finding the big score, the teaser in all film noirs, which in this case is the robbery of $5 million dollars worth of uncut diamonds hidden somewhere in the giant estate of fellow white collar criminal Ripley (Albert Brooks), a Wall Street billionaire who did time in Lompoc for insider trading, where he met Maurice, amusingly paying his accounts in prison by checkbook.  While the first half of the film is set in sunny Miami with those south Florida vibrant colors, where there is a perceived lack of real menace, the second half moves to Detroit in winter, viewed as a dangerous, oppressive place, rendered in darker tones, dominated by nighttime scenes in tightly enclosed spaces.  It’s a snowy night in Detroit filled with sinister possibilities where anything can happen, with an elevated level of suspense galvanized by the unfocused impulses of sadistic black criminal gangsters, yet the film is really about the sexual swagger of Karen Cisco, one badass woman who’s sitting on the outside waiting to bust them.  Generally regarded as one of the most overlooked gems of the 90’s, the film is smart, tense, stylish, well-directed, character driven, atmospheric, and moves at a fast clip, like a screwball comedy, beautifully edited by legendary British editor Anne V. Coates, but the believable chemistry between the unconventional connection between Clooney and Lopez makes all the difference.   

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Eve's Bayou

 

Jurnee Smollett

Lynn Whitfield

Debbi Morgan

Debbi Morgan and Samuel L. Jackson

Writer/director Kasi Lemmons

EVE’S BAYOU                     A                                                                                                    USA  (109 mi)  1997  d: Kasi Lemmons

A poignant coming-of-age mood piece, this film has the feel of a literary adaptation, beginning as a series of short stories written by this first-time director, set among well-off black Creole families in Louisiana in 1962, descendants of Jean Baptiste, a free black man from slavery days.  This film is a search for the hidden truths among the Creole folklore, music, French influence, and voodoo spirit, led by Samuel L. Jackson who plays a highly respected country doctor who is also a notorious womanizing father, Louis Batiste, the reserved, long-suffering, “perfect” beautiful mother, Lynn Whitfield as Roz Batiste, and three children, the middle child named Eve Baptiste, played by Jurnee Smollett, an intuitive, not always understanding ten-year old narrator who thinks she may have killed her father because she wished it so, because she hated him after her older sister told her of his incestuous advances.  The best thing in the film, however, is daytime soap opera star Debbi Morgan (the first black actress to win a Daytime Emmy), the wise, straight-talking aunt, Mozelle Batiste Delacroix, in what has to be one of the strongest and uniquely compelling black performances ever, a woman who can see other people’s future by laying her hands on theirs, who has lost three husbands but decides to try for a fourth in an attempt to overcome her belief that she is cursed.  This film takes us into the realm of Tennessee Williams and a family’s deep, hidden secrets, filled with dreams and poetry as seen through the vulnerable eyes of a child, showing us how deceptive memory can be, a visually powerful, hauntingly beautiful film, where the director offers her own comments about the control needed on the set in order to realize the extreme degree of stylization, Kasi Lemmons on EVE'S BAYOU YouTube (1:25).  Speaking a mix of Creole French and English, Eve reveals a startling revelation in the opening narration that immediately sends our collective heads spinning, “Memory is a selection of images, some elusive, others imprinted indelibly on the brain.  The summer I killed my father I was 10 years old.  My brother Poe was 9, and my sister Cisely had just turned 14.”  The beauty of this film is in its powerful storytelling, having the childlike feel of a Disney film, with no discussion on matters of race, but with adult subject matter, as it deals openly with incest, adultery, and murder, the kind of murky territory you’d expect in a swamp.  Yet because it’s seen through the eyes of a child, she may not be a trustworthy witness, which is called into question almost immediately when their home opens up into a raucous Cajun dance party, featuring classic 50’s and 60’s R&B songs, Bobby Bland - Turn On Your Love Light (2:37), Geno Delafose’s C'est Pas La Peine Brailler (3:26), James “Sugar Boy” Crawford’s Sugar Boy and his Cane Cutters - "Overboard" (2:27), RAY CHARLES "Don't Let The Sun Catch You Crying ... (3:46), Etta James - A Sunday Kind Of Love (3:21), and JOHNNY ACE - "ANYMORE" (1955) (3:02), with Louis causing a spectacle dancing first with an overly flirtatious family friend Matty Mereaux (Lisa Nicole Carson) before dancing with his oldest daughter Cisely (Meagan Good), which sends Eve flying out the door in a fit of jealousy, hiding out in an old carriage house, where she witnesses her father having sex with Matty Mereaux, a traumatizing moment, as she places her father on a pedestal.  When she shares her secret with Cisely, a Daddy’s girl who is even more enamored with her father, her sister places doubt in her eyes, suggesting it may have been something far more innocent, demonstrating how easily memory can be reconfigured, and how a change in perspective may alter the way viewers understand existing truths. 

Among the most financially successful independent films of the year, part of the film’s popularity was the heavy endorsement of Chicago film critic Roger Ebert who placed it #1 on his Best of the Year lists for 1997, Roger Ebert: 1967-2006, with film executives surprised to discover that more than half the audience was white for what was essentially a black film, featuring well-developed characters often overlooked in movies, creating a successful crossover effect, playing in both arthouses and mainstream theaters alike, transcending the idea of a “black film” with no white characters.  The central focus is Eve’s relationship with her mother, father, and her siblings, yet perhaps the most intriguing is her close relationship with her aunt Mozelle, the spiritual center of their world and the anchor of the family, drawing independent parallels between the kindred spirits of Louis and his sister, both consumed by an emancipating free spirit, yet Mozelle has unusual sensitivity and insight, which manifests itself in the “gift of sight,” as she’s a psychic reader who can predict the future, spending her time healing the wounds of others in need, drawing upon her mythical ancestral heritage, which is outside the traditions of Western society, as black women are entrusted guardians of their family stories, reaching into southern black folk traditions that are being passed on to Eve.  While she’s able to see into the lives of others, she’s blind to her own deficiencies, feeling cursed, as all three of her husbands have suffered violent deaths, yet she stands in stark contrast to Elzora (Diahann Carroll), who is something of a carnival sideshow, telling fortunes for a dollar, viewed by Mozelle as a cheap stereotypical caricature of a voodoo priestess.  The beauty of Mozelle’s dynamic character is that she’s not exoticized, instead she’s part of the family legacy, an integral part of the landscape, part of the memory, and part of the surrounding community culture, bringing a unique artistic sophistication to the forefront, willingly sharing her experiences while commiserating with Eve, Eve's Bayou (1997) - Life Is Filled With Goodbyes Scene (8/11) | Movieclips YouTube (3:11).  While the film follows the female-centric traditions of Julie Dash’s Daughters of the Dust (1991), creating a provocative narrative around strong female characters in a rural setting, beautifully shot by Amy Vincent, edited by Terilyn A. Shropshire, where women have important roles behind the camera, yet it’s largely a performance-driven film, with a constantly curious Jurnee Smollett holding her own against more seasoned veterans, showing early signs of the actress she would become.  The child vantage point recalls Charles Laughton’s The Night of the Hunter (1955), where truth has a way of remaining elusive, often disguised in various forms with deceptive vantage points, including a constantly shifting narrative, yet particularly for a 10-year old the essential drama surrounds Eve’s ability to unravel the truth.  The uncertainty and unreliability of memory remains a predominant theme, while the narration suggests she’s looking back at her life as an adult, recalling a series of impactful events that evolved into an indelible memory that changed the course of her life.   

Told in a Southern Gothic tradition, evoking the cultural heritage of backwoods Louisiana with hanging Spanish moss, Cypress trees, and water everywhere, where lies are woven into the fabric of the family, each seems to hold their own fabrication of the truth, largely covering up for the sins of the father, who ignores his familial obligations with his own wife, where that neglect leaves her a nervous wreck, alone and isolated, as her husband spends late night hours away from home as a serial philanderer.  In compensation, the oldest daughter Cisely sits and waits for her father to return home at night, receiving the affection usually reserved for the wife, while Roz overcompensates by heaping affection on their only son Poe (Jake Smollett).  Left out of the equation is Eve, confused by the moral ambiguities in the adults surrounding her, unable to see through the lies and deception.  She seeks refuge in Mozelle, sharing a psychic ability to see things before they happen, as Eve dreams about the death of Mozelle’s most recent husband shortly before he was killed in an accident.  Mozelle is simply one of the most fully realized characters in cinema, defiantly individualistic, emboldened and beautiful, never afraid to speak her mind, but she’s overprotective of her brother, knowing full-well the disgrace and disrespect he shows his own family, hiding his weakness and moral shortcomings, while both young daughters look up to him with unabated reverence, afraid their mother will drive him away.  But Mozelle has to face her own demons, especially when she meets a new man in her life, Julian Grayraven (Vondie Curtis-Hall, the director’s husband), a black Indian, where a spark of love is in the air, yet her track record is abysmal.  The story she tells Eve about the fate of one of her husbands is simply chilling, both in what it reveals about her and the awesome and mesmerizing power of a beautifully told story, Eve's Bayou (1997) - Mozelle, Hosea and Maynard Scene (7/11) | Movieclips YouTube (3:28).  Among the more eloquent scenes is a walk out on a country road by the side of the lake on a gorgeous sunny day with Mozelle and her sister-in-law Roz, being honest and open with each other, which has a way of opening doors, allowing a sliver of honesty into what seems like tragic lives.  What becomes more evident, as time goes on, is that each character has their own vantage point, seeing the same things, but in different ways.  This confusion leads to a spiral of self-delusion, as Eve grows protective of her sister, who comes to her with a horrible secret that brings tragic consequences, wanting to save her from the incestuous betrayal of her own father, looking to use spells and powers to eradicate what she perceives as evil, certain her father is to blame, looking to cast a magic spell upon him, even wishing he was dead.  The scenes between the sisters are fraught with power and emotion, but grow heart-wrenching at the strange turn of events, where the truth of what really happens remains ambiguous, with different outcomes depending on who you listen to, as every action has a ripple effect, yet in the end what stands out is a sisterly love that endures, uncertain about everything else in their future, but they still have each other, leaving audiences to grapple with the deeply complex moral implications.