by MALCOLM FRASER

Down in the Valley

Director David Jacobson’s unusual offering takes place in the suburbs of L.A. Tobe (Evan Rachel Wood), a girl in the full flower of sullen adolescence, lives with her hard-ass father Wade (David Morse) and her introverted younger brother Lonnie (Rory Culkin). She impulsively hooks up with Harlan (Edward Norton), a full-on cowboy complete with hat, boots and country demeanour. Their passionate affair is so teen-dreamy you start to get the distinct impression that it’s too good to be true, which of course, it turns out to be.

The first part of the film is languid and atmospheric, with beautiful visuals and sparse, almost poetic dialogue—like something Terrence Malick might come up with if he pulled his head out of his ass. When things inevitably get ugly, the film turns all-out Western, with horseback chases, gunfights and all.

The whole cast does a great job, but Norton reclaims his title as one of the most intense and convincing actors out there today. His performance as Harlan, which could easily have turned into a cheap caricature, is unsettling, but subtle and restrained.

While not as conceptual as Cronenberg’s A History of Violence, Down in the Valley is a similar meditation on American identity—the USA’s mythos of frontier spirit and re-invention, and its propensity for royally screwing things up with grandiose outbursts of violence. Though Jacobson brings together all the staples of American film, the result is neither clichéd nor po-mo clever, but a uniquely original twist on tried-and-true universal themes.

Sketches of Frank Gehry

Old-school Hollywood helmsman Sydney Pollack’s first documentary portrays the creative process of architect Gehry, probably the top name in the field today. Pollack follows with a digital camera as Gehry works with his staff, discusses his personal history and shows off some of his most famous buildings.

The filmmaker and his subject are old friends, and they discuss how each works in an art form where creative expression runs up against commercial demands. Gehry lets his guard down; in the affecting opening scene, he candidly discusses his tendency towards procrastination and self-doubt. But as the film goes on to show the splendour of Gehry’s work and the Olympian reputation he has in his field, Pollack draws out the ambition behind Gehry’s self-effacing persona.

Although Pollack claims a lack of knowledge about architecture, Sketches jumps right into Gehry’s world without any Architecture for Dummies explanations, which may leave the uninitiated scrambling to grasp some of the artistic concepts (and industry politics) the film explores.

The style of the film is loose and informal, sometimes lacking focus; Pollack modelled his process on the abstract sketches that Gehry doodles to generate ideas. It’s a cute concept, but a sketch, by definition, must be refined and tightened up for a truly accomplished result. No doubt this project was liberating for a journeyman director like Pollack, but it could have used less meandering and more craftsmanship. Still, anyone with even a passing interest in architecture will enjoy this look at Gehry’s work and methods.

Peaceful Warrior

Been jonesing for a more macho Karate Kid with gymnastics instead of martial arts? If so, Peaceful Warrior is for you; if not, be warned. In this adaptation of Dan Millman’s autobiographical paean to spiritual awakening, The Way of the Peaceful Warrior, young Dan (Mean Creak pretty boy Scott Mechlowicz) is a top college gymnast with a pronounced arrogant streak. He’s at the top of his game, but tormented by strange nightmares and self-doubt. One night, he happens upon a mysterious gas station attendant (Nick Nolte) who he nicknames Socrates, and who proceeds to school him, Mr. Miyagi-like, to bring out the champion within.

As always, Nolte’s increasingly craggy face, impossibly gruff voice and actorly intensity elevate the material, but his presence isn’t enough to redeem what he’s been given here. His dialogue, consisting 100 per cent of hokey clichés and New Age babble, is cringe-worthy. Mechlowicz is petulant, whiny and annoying, one of the least likeable protagonists in recent memory. The film positions macho fratboy culture against navel-gazing spiritual self-discovery, and by the end you can’t figure out which one is more despicable. On top of it all, director Victor Salva pulls out every imaginable cinematic cliché, with copious use of swelling strings and worshipful slow-motion throughout the film’s excessive two-hour length.

The cheese level of this film is so high that if it were cranked up just one notch, it could be enjoyable in a Showgirls kind of way. As is, it’s an excruciating waste of time.

Down in the Valley, Sketches of Frank Gehry and Peaceful Warrior open Friday, July 14

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