WHATEVER MUST BE DONE

Two desperate women hatch a plan to smuggle undocumented immigrants across the Canadian border in Frozen River. Abandoned by an alcoholic husband, suddenly single Ray Eddy (Melissa Leo) has two sons to provide for, a broken-down trailer and a dead-end job at an upstate New York dollar store. So poor that the family dinner consists of popcorn and Tang, tough Ray scrapes for a down payment on a new double-wide trailer, but cries in private when no one can see. She teams up with Lila (Misty Upham), a young Native American mother with domestic problems who lives on a nearby Mohawk reservation that overlaps into Quebec. The women begin clandestine road trips across the icy St. Lawrence River in the dark winter nights, smuggling immigrants into the U.S. for quick cash.

Writer-director Courtney Hunt’s harrowing movie, shot on video, is reminiscent of the working-class films of Ken Loach, an intensely personal story not concerned with issues on its periphery—immigration and poverty—but more about the hardscrabble, dashed dreams of the underclass. Those dreams, in this case, are full-time shifts, new trailers, food on the table and motherhood. The film doesn’t for a moment condescend to these goals or make any judgments about its characters’ illegal actions, instead arguing for compassion as both women do what it takes to survive in their worlds, outside society and the laws of New York state and the reservation. What emerges is an uncompromising character study of cornered women too smart for their means, forming a believable symbiosis that gradually resembles friendship.

This gritty Sundance winner features the year’s best female performance from Melissa Leo, as a downtrodden rural mother determined to provide a better life for her kids. Unsentimental yet moving, Leo (21 Grams, Homicide) digs so deeply into Ray’s dilemma that a late Christmas confrontation with her wise teenage son is heartrending. Even a simple, wordless scene, sitting alone on a bed, vibrates with inner life. (****) C.S.

Tropic Thunder is a smart-alecky satire of Hollywood action movies, as three radically different movie stars attempt to make a Vietnam War epic. Fading action star Tugg Speedman (Ben Stiller), intense Aussie method actor Kirk Lazarus (Robert Downey, Jr.), and zany comedian Jeff Portnoy (Jack Black) clash, while filming the wartime exploits of disabled vet Four Leaf Tayback (Nick Nolte). The movie is behind schedule and over-budget, because inexperienced movie director Damien Cockburn (Steve Coogan) doesn’t know how to deal with his stars’ dueling egos. Four Leaf suggests guerrilla-style movie-making by dropping the pampered cast off in the jungle and filming them, but this puts them into a real war situation with an Asian heroin ring.

The movie’s attitude is established right away, when the theatre lights go down and, instead of the usual coming attractions, four fake movie trailers introduce us to the stars. Tugg wants to be taken seriously as an actor, although he’s working against his own bad career choices. Jeff sabotages his own reputation as the king of moronic comedies with wildly erratic behavior fueled by his excessive drug use. Kirk is such a dedicated actor that he has had a skin-pigmentation procedure to thoroughly become a black soldier, something which pisses off the one actual African-American cast member, the humorously named Alpa Chino (Brandon T. Jackson).

For the most part, the script maintains the satire, even when Stiller (serving as director) refuses to stray far from his comfort zone by indulging in gross-out humor or low-brow slapstick. He and Black don’t bring much to their characters beyond their usual schtick, but Downey is all the more hilarious for the seriousness he brings to his role (an obvious slam at Russell Crowe). Matthew McConaughey, as Tugg’s obsequious agent, makes the most of his few scenes, and an almost unrecognizable Tom Cruise makes a big impact as the overweight, hairy, balding, foul-mouthed producer, although his trademark high-pitched voice gives him away. Stylistically and tonally, the movie is a mess, but it provides a lot of laughs. (***) J.L.

Americans abroad are adrift in lust and love in Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona, the 72-year-old filmmaker’s most insightful romantic comedy in ages. Pragmatic Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and free-spirited Cristina (Scarlett Johansson) descend upon Barcelona for the summer, each falling for lothario Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), a bohemian painter bedding women to erase the memory of his fiery ex-wife, Maria Elena (a galvanic Penelope Cruz). Engaged Vicky ends up brokenhearted, while Cristina begins a menage of art, sex and free love after the tumultuous former lover materializes, embodied by Cruz at her stormiest, most enigmatic best. Real-life lovers Bardem and Cruz emit measurable heat, the latter displaying tragicomic pathos when the commune collapses, deepening the film. (***1/2) C.S.

Hitchcockian might well describe Transsiberian, a tense thriller placing an unsuspecting couple under siege after befriending a pair of drug mules aboard a high-speed railway. Following a charity benefit in China, married Americans Roy (Woody Harrelson) and Jessie (Emily Mortimer) venture by train across remote Russia. Mysterious lovers Carlos (Eduardo Noriega) and Abby (Kate Mara) enliven their trip, setting off a dangerous chain of disappearances and cover-ups. Crusty detective Grinko (Ben Kingsley) smells something seriously amiss. Director Brad Anderson turns up the austere isolation and fading Cold War dread, while Mortimer delivers a gripping turn as a woman ensnared in a web of lies. Complications pile up, and Transsiberian intrigues with surprises right up to the final scene. (***1/2) C.S.

Henry Poole Is Here is a spiritual comedy-drama, in which the terminally ill Henry (Luke Wilson) buys a ramshackle tract home and attempts to hasten his demise via heavy drinking. His plans are disrupted when nosy neighbor Esperanza (Adriana Barraza) thinks she sees the face of Jesus in a water stain on Henry’s backyard wall. When divorcée Dawn (Radha Mitchell) says her mute six-year-old daughter (Morgan Lily) began speaking after touching the face, Henry’s stucco becomes a local holy shrine. Screenwriter Albert Torres examines the parameters of faith and hope, but director Mark Pellington only wants to make a generic romantic comedy about a man saved by the love of a good woman. The attempt to consider spiritual issues is commendable, and the fine cast makes this a lovable, off-beat treat. (***) J.L.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars is the first animated installment of George Lucas’s never-ending sci-fi franchise. Situated chronologically between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith, it has more of Lucas’s imponderable politics, stilted dialogue and childlike fascination for anything futuristic. Without the need for actual actors, expensive sets or location shooting, the sky is the limit for this movie, and the animation of the action sequences does not disappoint. However, the characters have the waxy, boxy look of clay-mation figures used in stop-motion, rivaling the wooden acting by real actors in the previous films and effectively killing the overall “gee-whiz” impact. For a series that long ago abandoned any shred of realism, this has finally become a pure cartoon. (*) J.L.