THE MUSTANG

Matthias Schoenaerts     Bruce Dern     Gideon Adlon     Connie Britton     Jason Mitchell     Josh Stewart

     This is Director Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre’s first feature film, co-written with Mona Fastvold and Brock Norman Brock.  She has had a long acting career (including being in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly), and after she became interested in animal therapy for prisoners, she visited prisons and attended film laboratories at Sundance for advice and consultation in making the film.  This was not only to understand the process of the therapy, but also to see first-hand actual prisoners who are incarcerated.

     Cinematography by Ruben Impers (Beautiful Boy) is impressive right away in landscape shots of wild mustang horses on the prairie being herded by a helicopter into prison corrals where they will be tamed by prisoners.  It’s meant to be a dual process of both the horse and the prisoner learning how to contain negative emotions and express positive ones.  The latter is demonstrated so beautifully in one tender moment between Roman Coleman (Schoenaerts) and his horse Marcus after numerous out-of-control scenes.

     When we first meet Roman he is almost entirely non-communicative; he’s been in prison 12 years, in and out of isolation, and after some sessions with the psychologist (Britton), he is assigned to an “outdoor maintenance program”—literally shoveling horse s---.  Advocating for himself is completely foreign to him.  While working at that job, he keeps noticing a mustang kicking against the enclosure it’s in (no doubt expressing what he himself feels), he walks over and begins to bond with the horse.  When the chief trainer (Dern) observes this (he’s already had a few hostile encounters with Roman), he decides that this man and this horse are meant to be a pair, and suddenly Roman is in animal therapy.

     Parallel story lines help maintain fascination and suspense in the prison setting related to one of the trainers (Henry played by Mitchell), an affable black man who is successful in undercutting some of Roman’s hostility with gentle teasing, and Roman’s roommate, Dan (Stewart).  These are woven together well with the main story line, adding depth and scope to the tale.

     I liked pacing in The Mustang in giving the viewer time to get to know the characters and absorb the import of it, but revving up the tension and excitement from time to time, keeping you on the edge of your seat.  It is also a film that can be instructive in showing the commonalities between humans and animals and demonstrating the effectiveness of rehabilitative therapy training/for both. One tiny drawback that I saw was the filmmakers not showing the inevitable pain prisoners experience when they must inevitably part.  This is shown to some extent, but not as much as (to me) it is warranted.

An uplifting and inspiring film for just about everyone, with a powerful performance by Schoenaerts.

Grade:  A                                    By Donna R. Copeland

INSIDIOUS: THE LAST KEY

Lin Shaye     Angus Sampson     Leigh Whannell     Josh Stewart     Tessa Ferrer

Caitlin Gerard     Spencer Locke     Bruce Davison

     We meet the Ranier family living in Five Keys, New Mexico, in the ‘50s, and find that things are not well, especially with young Elise (Ava Kolker and Lin Shaye), whose father becomes brutal when her special powers are in evidence.  She refuses to lie by saying she doesn’t see ghosts, so he beats her and locks her in the cellar.  (There are a number of weaknesses in the film, one being very bad parenting.)  As time goes on and the situation worsens, Elise does what any sensible young woman would do, she leaves home.  Elise is guilt-ridden for leaving behind her younger brother Christian, ignoring the fact that she was only 16.

     Jump ahead to 2010, and Elise is an older woman now having nightmares.  Her gift of seeing bears some responsibility, as she was told by her mother years before, and when people call her to conjure away the ghosts in their houses, she goes.  The latest call is troubling, however; it is from a current resident in the house in New Mexico where she used to live.  This is both terrifying and challenging, but she is stalwart, so sets off for New Mexico with her two helper/roommates, Tucker (Sampson) and Specs (Whannell), two geeky psychic wannabes.  (They’re supposed to provide the humor, but it seldom works.)

     What they find there is horrendously gruesome, and the plot becomes more and more convoluted with additional characters and resurrections of previous ones.  Elise is committed to her calling, and comes to understand the power of evil spirits in inhabiting humans for their own purposes.  (This is a way of explaining certain evil men’s actions—which I have to smile at.  The men are not evil; it’s the spirits within them.)

     There will be lots of blood, gore, and murder to satisfy the horror genre fan, but the film will be tedious for those who have questions that pop up, like, “Why doesn’t Specs call the police when there is a man with a gun in the house?”  And when one suitcase after another is opened with little scares, you know that soon there will be one that will draw gasps from the audience. 

     Lin Shaye is a talented actress who has starred in all the Insidious films, and she is expert in mixing the wonder, wisdom, care, and concern that her character needs to show.  If this film has any redeeming value, she is it.  Alas, the filmmakers’ efforts to imbue the Tucker and Specs duo with levity simply comes across as corny and even lecherous when they noodle up to Christian’s two young attractive daughters, whom we know in real life wouldn’t give them a second look.

     Insidious:  The Last Key seems to be one of those serials that the filmmakers just don’t seem to want to let go.  They appeal to people who are inclined not to think too deeply, but need a few thrills to make their lives complete (or so they think).

Only hard-core fans of the Insidious series will like this film; others should stay away.

Grade:  D                                    By Donna R. Copeland