The Revenant

   Spectacular elk ford sun dappled, teal colored icy rivers, snow melt drips from massive fir trees and mountain ranges stand against luminous sunsets.   Landscape is character in The Revenant and makes an epic backdrop for Leonardo DiCaprio's hellishly grueling performance.

     Set against this grand scenery and DiCaprio's astounding effort, the story and it's muddled themes appear pint-sized.  Inarritu's script, which he co-wrote, chooses to delve into America's genocidal beginnings, but manages merely a trite ode to Native American wisdom.  It's as if he'd never seen Dances with Wolves, Little Big Man or any other film that treats the subject less casually.   If The Revenant was reaching for standard Eastwood-style revenge,  the cursory attitude might pass, but the grandeur and scope of Inarritu's portrait of wilderness and DiCaprio's herculean effort signify an aspiration for deeper meaning.  Man's ubiquitous savagery to his fellow men and women is hardly a satisfying or particularly novel morsel of truth in the age of ISIS and random mass shootings.

    Its' easy to imagine an award for DiCaprio's performance and one for cinematographer  Emmanual Lubezki.  The film's depiction of nature is masterful, but it's unmatched by a compelling narrative.  By the 2 1/2 hour mark we're dead sure Leonardo is going to exact revenge, but we're doubtful that it matters.

Carol

Independent films, even those starring Kate Blanchett, should give the audience a chance to participate in the film.  The best do, the worst ape their bigger budget counterparts.  Doused in a droning Phillip Glass style score and plastered with moody shots of rain drizzled car windows, Carol is out to guarantee maximum melancholy.  It's labored; it's glacially paced.   Melancholy soon begets ennui.

Of course the period dresses and cars are fabulous and Blanchett looks stunning, but the entire piece feels pinned under glass.  Taken from a 1952 romance novel by Patricia Highsmith (famous for her murder mysteries), the film feels far outdated in its genteel treatment of genteel lesbianism.  It was risqué for its time because it offered a lesbian story with a happy ending, but it's pure melodramatic hokum that requires Blanchett to choose between forbidden love and custody of her 4 year old.   Paging Joan Crawford.