Promised Land

The gentle everyman rhythms of Matt Damon work well for him in the plainly righteous message picture Promised Land.  Damon at the age 42 typically uses his likable, aw shucks demeanor to clue audiences into his character and that all-encompassing nice guy approachability is his center as a movie star, whether playing characters verging on psychotic (like The Talented Mr. Ripley), superhero-ic (the Bourne films) or the quirkily warped (like The Informant!); in the truest sense he's likely the heir apparent to 21st century movie stars to perhaps Tom Hanks during his '90s heyday or Jimmy Stewart.  In Promised Land, Gus Van Sant's latest film, with a screenplay by Damon, co-star John Krasinski, and a story credit to Dave Eggers, Damon's handsomely boyish face and frame is a bit more weathered, his age slowly creeping in, and it serves his character well, especially since the film, more small-boned morality play than great cinema, needs the seasoned pros to sell something that on the surface is so utterly corny, with a narrative that was well dated even back in the days when Frank Capra was extolling similar iterations of wholesome American values.

Damon plays Steve Butler, a mid-level traveling salesman for a natural gas company.  In toe with his ball-busting partner Sue (Frances McDormand, one of America's best at selling even the most hokum of dialogue), they go from small farm town to the next leasing properties in order to drill, exciting poorer citizens with hopes of a large payday.  Steve, a small town farm boy in his youth, speaks plainly and directly, priding himself with straightforward honesty and charm, without big city tricks or bells and whistles.  He's such a good salesman, he believes his pitch himself and that he's a helpful ambassador to struggling, disenfranchised Americans.  The dangers, and thus the message, of Promised Land, gets out of the way fairly early on-- that with the process of the drilling, called "fracking"-- a potentially dangerous and controversial environmental issue.  Steve, no stranger to semantics, holds his ground and firmly believes in the honesty and faith of not just what he's selling, but the corporate world larger than him.  That notion is the one major miss of Promised Land, where Steve's naivete, essential for coaxing the drama and in moving the character and the plot forward.  Damon seems to savvy for that, but like any good salesman, spins it as well as one can, retaining he's easy-going, nice guy persona.  Steve, himself, as he begins to question, even reminds himself, "I'm the good guy."

As the town is divided over what direction they should take-- Hal Holbrook plays an esteemed small town gentry who fears what his community will come to if too many people agree to drilling-- and decides to hold a formal vote.  Steve and Sue become nervous upon the arrival of an environmental activist (played by Krasinski) who stirs trouble by canvassing the town with slogans and a pinched bravado.  At this point in the film, the bigger dramatic question looms...could Matt Damon be playing the villain here?  Of course not, he, as well as the film keep reminding us, that "he's a good guy," and Krasinski's environ-douche Dustin is such a cad from the onset, that just can't be possible.  Never mind all of that, however, for the plainly stated virtues of Promised Land, which does a decent enough job of taking a snapshot of a topical subject matter that isn't as viably discussed as much as it should, and, better yet, for keeping it at arms length as to not read as didactic as it surely could have.  Cynically, the film can be read as a pet project, write off for movie stars in pursuit of charity work, or a film that will, no doubt, further push the well-greased argument that the media is speared by the liberal elite.  Van Sant debunks that with a small and earthy straightforwardness, so much so, that even the climatic Capra moment where our hero does the noble thing and the emotional violins strum along, it registers with the simplest of beats.

But that's also a bit of a shortcoming as the tiny play is at times so muted it barely registers a pulse.  A grating subplot where Steve and Dustin pine for a local school teacher (Rosemarie DeWitt) further pulls the film away; a shame considering the warmth a performer like DeWitt imbues is one that the film could have taken advantage of wisely had the stridency of formula not stood in the way.  Similarly, most of the characters outside of Steve and Sue reads far too easily and, perhaps even a tad offensive.  Most residents come off as ignorant rubes, following like cattle to whomever has the fanciest speak, and others including the character portrayed by Holbrook as mere ciphers for the films messaging.  While the film is nearly defiant in it's lack of vanity, Promised Land still adheres to the staples of the message picture, one that even the even the finest messages can't quite hurdle.

The presence of Matt Damon, as guide, advocate and movie star, is likely the only legitimate reason a film like this could have gotten off the ground, and how it could be given an Oscar-qualifying release by Focus Features, and why, I have little doubt, anyone will turn up to actually watch it to begin with.  He sells well and earnestly with integrity and quiet compassion.  And while Damon may well be our generations Jimmy Stewart, there's really no denying that Steve Butler will come any near Mr. Smith in the pantheon of American cinemas great nice guys.  B-

Milk

With accessible, but rousing direction from Gus Van Sant, a crisply informative and moving original script from Dustin Lance Black, and a terrific star turn by Sean Penn, Milk is an all too rare biographical film that not only feels achingly authentic, yet also completely relevant. Based on the true tale of slain politico Harvey Milk, a kind of funny looking New Yorker, who became the first openly gay man elected into major public office. Centering on the last eight years of his life, Milk, the movie vividly re-creates late 1970s San Francisco. And while nailing the period, there's a stark relevance to the story, easily making the first great mainstream film to center around the gay rights struggle. It's also an achievement for director Van Sant, after several years making arty, highly idiosyncratic films like Gerry, Elephant and Last Days. Milk is easily his most accessible film since Good Will Hunting while mixing the artfulness of his more avant-garde pieces in his oeuvre.

The film opens with Milk's move to San Francisco in the mid-1970s with his lover Scott Smith (James Franco.) Right away there's a contrast to the perception of liberal San Fran-- a sharp divide between the open gays and hippie counter culture crowd and the more conservative Irish Catholic residing in the Castro. The film explores the burgeoning activist forming in Milk, as he and his cohorts start to transform the Castro into the mecca of gay culture it's become, which leads to his campaigning to city supervisor. In true American Dream spirit, Milk lost the race three times in a row, but kept fighting and historically won the fourth time in 1978, after reshaping his persona from middle aged hippie\bathhouse visitor to a finely dressed man in a three piece suit. Milk greatly benefited the fourth time from the redrawing the district lines, which basically meant the only voters he had to win over were the gays and hippies. The district line reshaping also helped out fellow supervisor Dan White (Josh Brolin), a conservative Irish Catholic former fireman.

Once in office, Milk chronicles the initiatives that he personally championed-- a gay rights act in San Francisco, a doggie-poop ordinance that Milk created as a nice piece of free publicity, and the big one-- the fight over Prop. 6, or the Briggs Initiative. Created by Senator John Briggs (Denis O'Hare), and championed in the era of Anita Bryant (who like Joseph McCarthy in Good Night, and Good Luck is played by herself), Prop. 6 stated that any openly gay California public teacher would be terminated from their job. Against the odds, and thanks in part to Milk's charming aplomb, Prop. 6 lost. The film focuses back and fourth between this and the at odds relationship between Milk and White, and close knit group of activists in Milk's corner played quite well by Emile Hirsh, Emily Pill and Joseph Cross.

Van Sant and team smartly fashion the informative history with a great sense of urgency-- the interweaving of archival footage feels authentic, while artistic-- props go to cinematographer Harris Savides, and the production team for refashioning 70s era San Francisco. And yet the power of Milk is also the timelessness, in these days of Prop. 8-- we're still fighting what pioneers like Milk help to carve out. All of this is great material for Sean Penn, who is outstanding in the title role. Always an intense, formidable actor, Penn subsides slightly allowing Milk a moving sense of vulnerability-- it's easily the actor's most moving performance in ages. He contorts his voice to Milk's fey tone, but powerfully channels his power and magnitude. One gets the sense that others would follow when you spoke. The only real stumble in the film is the closing chapters of Milk's personal life; once his great love Scott leaves him, he starts a romance with an unstable Mexican named Jack (Diego Luna), which feels underdeveloped. This is notable because the the rapport between Penn and Franco is undeniably moving-- Franco is easily the warmest presence in the film.

There's something special about Milk, a love letter to a little known piece of California history, that in it's sadness and disparity, a hopeful optimism permeates that is inspiring. And that Gus Van Sant has crafted such an artful and soulful, unapologetically gay (the opening scene is a sweet interlude between Penn and Franco) depiction of his life confirms the capacity and emotional impact of such a story. The closing scene is easily one of the most powerfully moving sequences I've ever seen, and having seen real footage of said sequence in the 1984 documentary The Times of Harvey Milk, that's saying something. A