Don McKellar's less pretentious works (here, I exempt the Red Violin, of which I am not particularly fond) always seem to deliver what I need, if not quite what I want. There's always *something* about each work that bugs me a bit; but like the bit of gravel in your hiking boots that makes the trek that little bit more memorable, that little bit more real, I always wonder: would I really have been happier without it?
Last Night -- a subtle, oddly serene film about the world ending, not quite with a bang, not quite with a whimper -- but with a gently rueful, and very human, shrug -- is typical, in this regard. I more than merely like this film -- I believe I'd put it among my top ten favourite works, and I've seen a *lot* of movies -- but as a matter of honesty, I have to warn anyone who hasn't seen it yet, it does have more than a few rough edges.
The acting's a bit uneven, and ranges from borderline painful to actually stunning; I find the occasionally hysterical mother played by Roberta Maxwell painfully cliched. Bujold, on the other hand, you just have to see. Oh is memorable, surprisingly powerful. McMullen I still can't make my mind up about. McKellar is, well, McKellar. I can't help liking the character, even if it does seem a manipulative kinda setup that makes it so.
The script does amble a bit. It's kinda the nature of the story. And McKellar's fondness for clever, throwaway lines sometimes gets the best of him, in my view, both in his own part and in McMullen's.
But these are minor flaws, forgivable (or, as above, perhaps necessary), in an otherwise actually brilliant piece of work.
And overall, the writing, I have to say, is the best I've seen from McKellar yet. This a very delicately balanced script, marvelously restrained. Somehow, McKellar has made a movie in which regret, euphoria, and dread circle each other warily for an hour and a half, without melodrama once rising up out of the mix. There are believable moments of hysteria; they generally punctuate the prevailing current of reflection, resignation, and quiet desperation entirely believably and appropriately.
The ending... I'm not breathing a word about the ending.
Apart from this: it's flawless.
My vote: see it.
Last Night -- a subtle, oddly serene film about the world ending, not quite with a bang, not quite with a whimper -- but with a gently rueful, and very human, shrug -- is typical, in this regard. I more than merely like this film -- I believe I'd put it among my top ten favourite works, and I've seen a *lot* of movies -- but as a matter of honesty, I have to warn anyone who hasn't seen it yet, it does have more than a few rough edges.
The acting's a bit uneven, and ranges from borderline painful to actually stunning; I find the occasionally hysterical mother played by Roberta Maxwell painfully cliched. Bujold, on the other hand, you just have to see. Oh is memorable, surprisingly powerful. McMullen I still can't make my mind up about. McKellar is, well, McKellar. I can't help liking the character, even if it does seem a manipulative kinda setup that makes it so.
The script does amble a bit. It's kinda the nature of the story. And McKellar's fondness for clever, throwaway lines sometimes gets the best of him, in my view, both in his own part and in McMullen's.
But these are minor flaws, forgivable (or, as above, perhaps necessary), in an otherwise actually brilliant piece of work.
And overall, the writing, I have to say, is the best I've seen from McKellar yet. This a very delicately balanced script, marvelously restrained. Somehow, McKellar has made a movie in which regret, euphoria, and dread circle each other warily for an hour and a half, without melodrama once rising up out of the mix. There are believable moments of hysteria; they generally punctuate the prevailing current of reflection, resignation, and quiet desperation entirely believably and appropriately.
The ending... I'm not breathing a word about the ending.
Apart from this: it's flawless.
My vote: see it.