Foxcatcher

I’m not entirely sure what I am to have taken away from Foxcatcher. Here is a movie with a fascinating true crime story that treats that piece of it as an after-thought, an apostrophe to a slow burning meditation on….homoerotic bonds? Capitalism? Delusion? Obsession? That’s all floating around in there, but the film somehow feels unsettled and the climax just arrives without much thought put into it.

Well, as abrupt as a climax can arrive for a film that’s 130 minutes and frequently feels like every single one of those minutes. Numerous early scenes see the characters staring off at nothing in particular, or just staring at each other while a pervading sense of gloom thanks to stellar cinematography hovers above it all. Foxcatcher also seemed to be missing a few key scenes that would more successfully transition us between various story elements or developments. It feels like a few things were lost in the editing room, like they needed to just expand the running time more or edit down even further.

But Foxcatcher does have a trio of leading performances that make it a must watch. Channing Tatum’s leading role feels like it’s going to wind up like Mark Wahlberg in The Fighter, swallowed up and ignored come awards season by the flashier co-star and too large to commit category fraud against a solid contender from the same film. Tatum’s magnificent physique in a wrestling singlet is the stuff of my erotic daydreams, but there’s a tremendous sense of vulnerability and desperate need for validation and brotherly/fatherly love that’s constantly cracking open his Adonis exterior.

Steve Carell’s Oscar nomination feels like a foregone conclusion from the moment that he enters the frame. I’ve already seen a lot of online debate about whether or not he’s getting attention based on the virtues of his performance, or if it’s just a great makeup job doing the work for him. I think it’s a bit of both. Yes, that makeup job goes a long way to establishing and masking Carell’s familiar visage, but Carell’s work is disorientating and disquieting from his first appearance onwards. That strange voice and general sense of bratty entitlement are very different from the beloved idiot Michael Scott. And Mark Ruffalo adds another humane and loveable family man to his repertoire. He’s equally as good as Carell and Tatum, playing the sweet, level-headed family man to their more outlandish and conflicted characters. Ruffalo is the quiet heart of Foxcatcher, and his death is shocking for the lack of build-up or resolution.

We’re given a few tiny glimpses into Carell’s slow-building madness and paranoia, but the real story involved a two-day standoff to get him out of the house, and a general sense of bubbling mania prior to the murder. None of this is witnessed or given much attention, they’re as hugely underdeveloped as the wasted actresses playing a rich matriarch (Vanessa Regrave) and Ruffalo’s loving wife (Sienna Miller). I’m generally glad that I saw Foxcatcher, and I fear that I may be reviewing it as the movie I wanted it to be rather than what it is. But compared to the main creative team’s previous joint effort, Capote, Foxcatcher can’t help but feel meandering and shapeless.