It’s a singular performance that makes the picture. Tilda Swinton is mesmerizing as a successful travel writer, now mother. As Eva Khatchadourian, she conveys a woman who must juggle marriage, career, parenthood and her family, some with more interest than others.  The script indirectly suggests that her ambitions have consequences. John C. Reilly is frustratingly naive as her husband, Franklin. At least he’s capable at portraying a loving father. Nonetheless, Swinton and Reilly never make any sense as a couple and how these two could possibly fall in love and get married, constantly nagged at me. Actors Jasper Newell and Ezra Miller are extremely unsettling representing their son as a youngster and later teen, respectively. Kevin’s tense relationship with his mother is the core of the narrative, but it’s not the ultimate drive of the picture. Make no mistake, this is Tilda Swinton’s show. She seizes focus in every moment she is onscreen. Her portrayal resonates even more after the movie is over. Tilda is such a unique talent, I doubt any other actress could have pulled off what she accomplishes here.

Scottish director Lynne Ramsey has fashioned a stylishly made film from Lionel Shriver’s 2003 novel of the same name. While the words of Eva’s letters written to her husband were so important in the novel, it is the subtle auditory and visual clues that the viewer must assemble to explain the reasons “why” of the story here. Notice the way Eva sits in her hospital bed after giving birth as her husband holds their newborn or Kevin’s piercing cry while being held by mommy Eva in a later scene. The color red appears throughout: Spain’s La Tomatina festival, graffiti on her home, the blinking numbers on an alarm clock, the rubber ball she tosses to her son, the wall of tomato soup cans behind her at the supermarket. The shade appears again and again and the effect is seductive in its hue. One major quibble, however, is the odd choice of songs, particularly Lonnie Donegan’s skiffle and Texas singer Washington Phillips’ gospel, which are totally inappropriate for the mood.

This is a study of the very nature of evil. A dissertation, if you will, on the factors that develop the personality of a human being. Can someone be born bad or is it learned? At the center is Tilda Swinton’s performance. We feel sympathy, then outrage. At times we want to rebuke her but then we forgive her. The justification for these emotions is often brutally vague, even to ourselves. Yes, director Lynne Ramsey raises more questions than she answers, but that’s the point. This is a drama ripe for discussion without clear cut solutions. She presents an interesting argument. The subject is sure to provoke a reaction and it’s definitely one worth “talking about”.

There is an inherent problem that cannot be avoided with using 9/11 as the backdrop for any drama . The wounds of that national disaster still feel fresh as if they had happened only recently. Any movie trying to address that grief is sure to be criticized (often unfairly) for being exploitative. Indeed, Jonathon Foer’s 2005 novel was also greeted with mediocre to bad reviews when first published for this reason. Harry Siegel, writing in New York Press, titled his article “Extremely Cloying & Incredibly False” based on the book‘s manipulative charms. Now director Stephen Daldry has fashioned a movie from the bestseller and the reviews, despite an Oscar nomination for Best Picture, have been decidedly less than positive. However the tale could have used any unprovoked attack on a group of people. Most of the events have really nothing to do with 9/11 at all, but rather Oskar’s mission to discover the history behind this unexplained key. It sends him on an emotionally affecting investigation of the city’s inhabitants. He travels from person to person interviewing these strangers to gather information. His ritual trek becomes his all consuming passion to come to terms with the death of his father.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close ultimately matures into a sincerely touching film. At the center of this tearjerker is young actor Thomas Horn. Much like our central character, Oskar Schell, our first time actor is a curious subject. In 2010, Horn won on Jeopardy!, during Kids Week, earning $31,800. Producer Scott Rudin was in the midst of preparing an adaptation of Jonathon Foer’s 2005 book. He was so impressed by the little boy, it led to an audition as Oskar Shell, the brainy but socially isolated, protagonist. Obviously Thomas Horn is a similarly bright fellow. Undoubtedly his work draws much from his own identity. He’s remarkably sincere, yet the performance has been polarizing. It somewhat relies on your ability to accept Oskar’s idiosyncrasies as a disorder and not as a thoroughly irritating personality. At first I too found him annoying, but as time wore on, something else happened. I became fascinated by this little boy and his earnest desire to hang on to the memory of his father. I found the child’s exploration filled with emotional truth and humanity.

Extremely Loud is a picture of undeniable heart and it honestly moved me. Oskar’s hike through the streets of New York City is quite stirring. It starts out as a seed of an idea, but the concept develops into a full fledged scavenger hunt, much like the interactions he used to have with his father when he was alive. It takes time, but the purpose slowly germinates until before you know it, it has developed into a quietly poignant emotional journey. His interactions form the basis of the story with actors Max von Sydow, Viola Davis and Jeffrey Wright logging the most screen time. They’re interesting as well, but the biggest surprise is that Sandra Bullock provides the film’s best scenes. By the end, I was overcome by emotion. There’s one particular moment of such pure virtue, it made the film for me.

This is a traditional low budget B movie at heart, dressed up in a 70s style aesthetic. Let’s face it, that’s an impressive cast to begin with. Now let’s address the look of the production. Every scene is beautifully composed and shot by Steven Soderbergh (credited here as Peter Andrews). Visual technique goes a long way in maintaining the audience’s interest in the story. The jazzy score by David Holmes is a playful romp. The smooth horns and piano elevate the events on screen. The violent punches and kicks seem much more sophisticated backed by the light music.

The plot is convoluted but again, it’s a spy thriller, so kind of expected.  Therein lies the problem. Not much happens that you wouldn‘t already expect in an actioner of this sort. Mallory attempts to make sense of her situation and things progress rather predictably. There are double crossings and ambiguous loyalties which must be resolved. Whether or not she will accomplish her mission is never a question. She is too capable for us to be concerned with that. The issue becomes, who‘s responsible and how quickly will she find out? In fact, the answer is very quickly as the movie runs only 93 minutes. It’s efficient and that’s probably a good thing in this case.

This is Steven Soderbergh Lite. I suspect he never intended this to be some grand statement about the life of a secret agent. There’s little in the way of innovation here. Female led action films can’t call themselves cutting edge anymore simply by virtue of the protagonist’s sex. Resident Evil, Underworld, Wanted, Salt and Hanna are just a few recent titles that fit this description. Take your pick, the trend is quite common (and profitable) these days. In the hands of a lesser director, this might have been less successful, but Soderbergh’s artistic touches (cast, cinematography and music) manage to push this adventure into a satisfactory time filler.

Unfortunately the story takes a turn for the worse. Technologically advanced flying objects appear overhead and abduct many of the townsfolk. This being a western set in 1873, the anachronism could have had a significant impact. Apparently this development was not meant to be a shock since the very title gives this revelation away. Even the trailer highlighted this spectacle. Without the element of surprise, the movie lacks excitement. Even the citizens seem rather unperturbed. Lots of blasts and explosions are presented in a blazing cacophony of CGI. The intruders are overly complicated monsters that scream ”check out these creature designs!” to the Academy. The visual flourishes are plentiful, but the narrative is dull. Sadly Ford and Craig never fully connect and the promised sparks between the meeting of Indiana Jones with James Bond fail to ignite. We’re also introduced to a mysterious woman who joins the group and a Native American man who is Dolarhyde’s second-in-command. They have back-stories, but they seemed perfunctory. Where the aliens come from and their purpose, have routine explanations as well.

Overall the picture fails to captivate. Jon Favreau is a talented director. A string of his productions: Elf, Zathura and Iron Man, were all superior successes under his guidance. Oh yeah, some guy named Steven Spielberg is one of the executive producers here as well. The fact that seven (!) writers are credited with the disorganized screenplay supports the old adage “too many cooks“. A simplified, more singular vision would have been preferable. The best special effects extravaganzas are able to work in an engaging objective that makes the endeavor interesting, irregardless of eye catching embellishments. Here, the CGI is the story. It’s telling that when key people die in the end, it causes no emotional reaction. It’s just business as usual and off to the next adventure. <Yawn>

Where The Iron Lady flounders is in the editing. What could have been brilliant as the study of a complicated woman, is a failure as an incisive biography. We get snapshots of a life. Brief peeks in the chronology of her political timeline: election to Parliament, role as Education Secretary, accession to leader of the Conservative party. Her transformation from a working class woman to eventual role as Prime Minister is fascinating. The difficult road she traveled to assume that office is touched upon. Virtually all of the scenes depicting her civic side are endlessly entertaining. But the script addresses these political events without any real depth. Her dealings with the nation’s crippling recession, angry trade unions and The Falklands War, are all mentioned in a cursory manner. Many details are forgotten altogether, Blink and you’ll miss that she even knew close friend Ronald Reagan, the U.S. President during her tenure. It’s History Lite. Whenever the drama begins to develop steam we flash forward to a doddering old woman.

Her political career should have been the driving focus of the film. Unfortunately much of the narrative unwisely centers on Margaret Thatcher in the present day as a woman suffering from dementia. The modern day blends with the past and it’s meant to imply her own inability to tell the difference. But the framework is jarring to an audience and not conducive to a well told tale. In the here and now, she frequently has conversations with her dead husband Denis Thatcher played by Jim Broadbent. These dialogues are quaint, but they belong in a different movie. They listen to “Shall We Dance?“ from The King and I several times and the vignettes feel as though someone hijacked the memoir to tell the tale of a cute elderly lady. Give me a break!  This was the first woman to not only head a major political party in the United Kingdom, but to also run the whole country. The presentation of her professional life is so much more credible.

The Iron Lady is flawed. There’s a very good film contained within, but I suspect some of it is on the cutting room floor. Margaret Thatcher’s political pursuits are where this shines. Some judicious editing could have taken this to the next level. I’m reminded of another Meryl Streep vehicle. Julie & Julia was a good movie – whenever the chronicle focused on Julia Child, that is. So too is The Iron Lady a superior production whenever Margaret Thatcher is the tenacious leader of Great Britain. The agreeable matriarch of the present simply diminishes dramatic tension whenever things start to get exciting. Perhaps that’s the contradictory perspective director Phyllida Lloyd wanted to relate, but Thatcher’s energizing display as an obstinate firebrand of the past is so much more engaging. Meryl Streep deserves a lot of recognition for her singular performance, the story – not so much.