My Hometown, My Profession

In a serendipitous turn of events, the last two movies I saw had personal meaning. I'll always seek out a Boston-set indie, and I'll usually watch flicks with editors (and, by extension, reporters). That I found two films in a 24-hour period that covered both topics - it was like a Christmas present from Hollywood.

Does the quality of a print affect your film experience? At What Doesn't Kill You, a thin, vertical yellow-green line split the screen in two for the final third of the film. The dialogue also came across as muffled, although I'm not sure whether that was the print, a sound-adjustment issue at the Village East, or a filmmaker flaw. They were a distraction when I was watching the movie.

My screening at Nothing but the Truth was uneventful, except that I really missed my friends Sandra (in Syracuse) and Cori (in Maryland) and wished I'd invited my friend Michelle (who lives here) along. I'm yearning for some good discussion and debate with my intelligent, journalist girlfriends.

By the way, I will not see a movie just because it's set in my hood. As much as I like Anne Hathaway, I really don't want to see Bride Wars. It looks AWFUL, and my friend who has a thing for her concurs. (Then again, I can't picture Kirk at a romantic comedy to begin with.)

The Yari Film Group recently released two Hollywood-pedigreed films with connections to my life: the Boston-based crime drama What Doesn’t Kill You and the journalism/motherhood polemic Nothing but the Truth. While the former rang more true, the latter grabbed me far more - proof of the value of a good yarn.


Mark Ruffalo and Ethan Hawke join Matt, Ben, Casey and even Paul Newman in the triple deckers of cinema South Boston in What Doesn’t Kill You. Writer/director Brian Goodman bases the film on the years he (Ruffalo) and best friend Paulie (Hawke) did odd jobs for Irish mob bosses before striking out on their own, Brian battled drugs, and the two landed in prison. Goodman, a first-time director, produces some of his stars’ best work: wiry, shaved Hawke scaring and scheming; Ruffalo ravaged by addiction but yearning to regain his family’s respect; Amanda Peet, as Brian’s wife, tired and repeatedly disappointed. Much of What Doesn’t Kill You recalled home: the comment about yuppies converting Southie to condos, the winter palate of gray and sharp white. Still, the film feels “done,” coming soon after Gone Baby Gone. Do filmmakers think Boston is good only for booze-laden crime dramas or plastic rom-coms?

With stories of a female vice-presidential candidate (The Contender) and the first female president (Commander-in-Chief) on his resume, Rod Lurie demonstrates welcome appreciation for powerful women. His latest writing/directing effort, Nothing but the Truth, examines what journalist Rachel Armstrong (Kate Beckinsale) does to protect sources who outed CIA agent Erica van Doren (Vera Farmiga), even at the expense of her family and the threat of jail. The film uses Judith Miller and Valerie Plame as a jumping-off point; then Lurie enhances the conversation with discussions about sexism and women’s decisions in balancing job and motherhood. Truth could skew melodramatic; fortunately, Lurie, Beckinsale and Farmiga present Rachel and Erica as complex women rather than martyrs, people whose ambitions shape them as much as their parenting skills. The final twist provoked sputtering in my editor self, and the plot flourishes can be a bit much, yet overall, Truth’s intelligence grips and refreshes.