Killer Joe: Harbinger of Death on a Texan Plain

Killer Joe

Directed By: William Friedkin

Written By: Tracy Letts, based on his own play.

Starring: Matthew McConaughey, Emile Hirsch, Juno Temple, Thomas Haden Church, and Gina Gershon.

Director of Photography: Caleb Deschanel, Editor: Darrin Navarro, Production Designer: Franco-Giacomo Carbone, Original Music: Tyler Bates

            William Friedkin doesn’t pull any punches with his Southern gothic drama Killer Joe about the low-lifes of the world. It takes only three minutes for him to shove a woman’s under-parts right in Emilie Hirsch’s (and our) face. Well that’s why this film comes with an NC-17 rating, I thought, though justifications will continue throughout. But Friedkin, who has never shied away from explicit and horrific images (The Exorcist, Cruising), and doesn’t just do it for indulgence. Killer Joe is set among indulgent people, with little care or self-worth. And they must be punished, and Friedkin has just the man to do it.

            Working once again with playwright Tracy Letts (the two last collaborated on Bug), Friedkin brings a purported intensity to a stage play with Killer Joe, this one anchored by a truly manic and truly brilliant performance by Matthew McConaughey. The actor has of course been on a run with a string of oddball yet highly unique performances in films like Bernie and Magic Mike, but Killer Joe takes the cake for the actor’s sheer magnetism and silence. He’s introduced in the film like a Tarantino character—we see the gloves, the shades, the gun, and the cowboy hat. Back when it was originally staged in Chicago, Michael Shannon donned the role. Shannon’s a terrific actor, but he’s also known for his big ferocity. What makes McConaughey so thrilling is his utter silence. He doesn’t let words run through his mouth without valuing every syllable.

Magic Mike: Stimulus Package

Magic Mike

Directed By: Steven Soderbergh

Written By: Reid Carolin

Starring: Channing Tatum, Matthew McConaughey, Alex Pettyfer, Cody Horn, Olivia Munn, Joe Mangeniello, Matt Bomer, Adam Rodriguez, and Kevin Nash

Director of Photography: Peter Andrews, Editor: Mary Ann Bernard, Art Director: Stephen I. Erdberg, Coreographer: Alison Faulk

            Magic Mike is the type of film that deserves to be seen with an audience, and especially one made up of women. Remember the cheering during the CGI extravaganza of The Avengers? Wait until you hear the screams of 250 margarita-filled women when they see Channing Tatum’s perfectly chiseled abs and shaped ass. In fact, I couldn’t tell whether it was the audience in the film screaming or just the people around me.

            But the film, set in the world of male stripping, is not an indulgent “let’s put hot men on screen.” Behind the camera is none other than Steven Soderbergh, who has delivered some of the most unique features of the last few years, not to mention this year’s phenomenally inimitable Haywire. The film is a collaboration between Soderbegh and Tatum, working on a script by Reid Carolin based on Tatum’s own experiences as a male stripper. But more than that, Magic Mike is the essential sequel to Soderbergh’s “grab-what-you-can” 2008 period piece The Girlfriend Experience. The recession is finally bottomed out, but everyone is still on the hunt for cash. And once again, Soderbergh centers on  the body as a commodity fetish. In one moment, Adam (Alex Pettyfer), the dough-eyed child that Magic Mike (Tatum) takes under his wing, sits with the dollar bills he’s earned from his first stage appearance. The bills hide the bulge that is his manhood, or perhaps enhance it.

Bernie: Good Standing Citizen With A Little Blemish

Bernie

Directed By: Richard Linklater

Written By: Skip Hollandsworth and Richard Linklater

Starring: Jack Black, Shirley MacLaine, and Matthew McConaughey

Director of Photography: Dick Pope, Editor: Sandra Adair, Production Designer: Bruce Curtis, Original Music: Graham Reynolds

            The opening scene of Bernie, a not-so-dark comedy from Richard Linklater about a dark subject, begins with Jack Black as the titular character giving a lecture. His tone is gentle and warm, his mannerisms quirky but spirited, and his instructions simple to follow. In fact, it takes a few seconds before a pull out by the camera reveals Bernie is standing in front of a dead body, and preparing it for a funeral. Linklater’s tone is frothy in its lightness; his camera puts the grotesque in close-up, but often under soft lighting that makes it feel gentle. So what is a gentle man doing murder for?

            And Bernie is certainly one of the more heartwarming comedies about a terrible crime, and a true one. Set in the town of Carthage, Texas (East Texas is quite different from the oil men and weirdos of the other parts, a local tells us), Linklater spins together documentary and recreation about one man whose story is too good to not be on film, the type Hitchcock would have ate up with giddy delight. It’s strange and odd in all the ways one would never expect, and Black makes us fall in love with his adorable character, even if he does something very, very wrong.