by SARAH ROWLAND

The Squid and the Whale

For every heartbreaking gem like 2000’s You Can Count on Me, there are 100 charmless bores like last year’s Imaginary Heroes. That’s probably why so many critics salivate at the mere mention of Noah Baumbach’s The Squid and the Whale. Simply put, it makes writing and directing a poignant and painfully funny family drama look easy.

Set in Brooklyn during the mid-’80s, Baumbach, who co-wrote The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, relives his own experience as a teenager coming to terms with his parents’ divorce. At the helm of this dysfunctional clan is Bernard, played by Jeff Daniels, who is disturbingly effective as the over-educated, passive-aggressive father. With a Ph.D. in literature and an elementary grasp of child rearing, Bernard’s dead set on teaching his older son Walt (Jesse Eisenberg) that (a) his mother is a slut and (b) anybody with less than a masters degree is subhuman.

Disgusted with his mother’s affairs, Walt is dangerously close to morphing into a younger version of his father. He does everything to prove his cultural worth to his father—even going so far as to plagiarize Pink Floyd. Walt’s younger brother Frank (Owen Kline, as in son of Kevin), on the other hand, isn’t having any of it. He rebels against his father’s snobbery by proudly declaring himself a “philistine” and jerking off in public.

There are no standouts here; every actor—new and seasoned—is spot-on. Not only that, the story checks out, characters add up and... just go see it.

Grizzly Man

In the fall of 2003, self-taught bear biologist/Letterman regular Timothy Treadwell and his girlfriend Amie Huguenard were eaten alive by a grizzly bear. After 13 (ironic, no?) seasons studying and living as one with Alaskan 400-pound omnivores, Treadwell’s luck ran out. But thankfully, the recharger on his camera didn’t. Before he was mauled to death, he pressed record—though he didn’t have time to take the lens cap off.

This is where Werner Herzog comes in. The German filmmaker pieced together and narrated Grizzly Man, using a ton of Treadwell’s own footage.

In his gorgeously shot, unintentionally funny documentary, we see Treadwell evolve into a first-class cinematographer, capturing the awe-inspiring beauty of his subjects. We also see Treadwell lose his ever-lovin’ mind. In one scene, he buries his hands in a steaming pile of bear dung. On the brink of tears, he repeats, “This is Wendy’s poop. It just came from her butt.”

No doubt the man loved animals. But the debate as to whether he was doing more harm than good rages on. As one Alaskan First Nation points out, by desensitizing wild animals to human contact, Treadwell was leaving them increasingly vulnerable to poachers.

Herzog also delves into Treadwell’s personal life. With the plethora of eccentric women who surrounded Treadwell, and Treadwell himself, it would have been easy for Herzog to make fun of his protagonist. Instead, he presents a non-judgmental portrait of a highly entertaining, well-meaning nutjob—which of course makes snickering in a darkened theatre that much more fun.

The Squid and the Whale and Grizzly Man open Friday, Oct. 21

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