Margot at the Wedding (Noah Baumbach, 2007)

Cast: Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Jack Black, Zane Pais, Ciarán Hinds, Halley Feiffer, John Turturro. Screenplay: Noah Baumbach. Cinematography: Harris Savides. Production design: Annie Ross. Film editing: Carol Littleton. 

Dolores Claiborne (Taylor Hackford, 1995)

Kathy Bates and Jennifer Jason Leigh in Dolores Claiborne

Cast: Kathy Bates, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Judy Parfitt, Christopher Plummer, David Strathairn, Eric Bogosian, John C. Reilly, Ellen Muth, Bob Gunton, Roy Cooper. Screenplay: Tony Gilroy, based on a novel by Stephen King. Cinematography: Gabriel Beristain. Production design: Bruno Rubeo. Film editing: Mark Warner. Music: Danny Elfman. 

Stephen King is usually likened to Edgar Allan Poe, but the writer Taylor Hackford's film of King's Dolores Claiborne puts me in mind of is Dickens: the Dickens who respected melodrama and created flawed protagonists and convincing (and sometimes redeemable) villains. At 132 minutes, the movie is a little too long, but I wouldn't lose a minute of the performances by Kathy Bates as Dolores and Jennifer Jason Leigh as her daughter, Selena. Christopher Plummer, never reluctant to chew the hambone, threatens to go a bit over the top as Dolores's chief antagonist, Detective John Mackey, but Hackford keeps him under control. Judy Parfitt is superbly acidic as Vera Donovan, though it's a shame her later scenes had to be covered in old-age makeup. And David Strathairn does both the hair-trigger violence and the slimy seductiveness of Joe St. George well. It's also visually engaging, with Nova Scotia standing in for Maine, and Gabriel Beristain's cinematography making the most of the solar eclipse scenes. Dolores Claiborne has been praised for its feminist point of view, but perhaps that's because we so rarely see women dominate an American thriller as well as Bates and Leigh do. 

The Anniversary Party (Jennifer Jason Leigh, Alan Cumming, 2001)

Alan Cumming and Jennifer Jason Leigh in The Anniversary Party

Cast: Jennifer Jason Leigh, Alan Cumming, Kevin Kline, Phoebe Cates, John C. Reilly, Jane Adams, Parker Posey, John Benjamin Hickey, Gwyneth Paltrow, Denis O'Hare, Mina Badie, Michael Panes, Jennifer Beals, Matt Malloy. Screenplay: Jennifer Jason Leigh, Alan Cumming. Cinematography: John Bailey. Production design: Emma Bailey. Film editing: Carol Littleton, Suzanne Spangler. Music: Michael Penn.  

Hollywood professionals Alan Cumming and Jennifer Jason Leigh wrote, directed, and starred in The Anniversary Party, a movie about a gathering of Hollywood professionals. Which at least follows the advice to write about what you know. But that way lies a certain insularity, which is probably the biggest problem their movie has. Watching it made me feel like an outsider, even a voyeur. They play a couple, actress Sally Nash and novelist turned filmmaker Joe Therrian, who have recently put their marriage back together after a separation, and are celebrating their sixth wedding anniversary -- not usually a landmark occasion, but considering their marital difficulties can be considered an achievement. So they invite their friends, most of them colleagues and co-workers in the film industry, plus some newcomers, including the hot young actress Skye Davidson (Gwyneth Paltrow), whom Joe has cast in the movie he's making. This in itself is a source of tension, which some of the guests are not above pointing out, because Skye is playing a character from Joe's novel who is clearly based on Sally, and he didn't cast Sally herself, perhaps because she's too old to play the role. Also among the outsiders in the gathering are Joe and Sally's next-door neighbors, Ryan (Denis O'Hare) and Monica Rose (Mina Badie), whom they invited because they'd like to quell the tension that has arisen between the two households over the barking of Joe and Sally's dog. The volatility within the group gives rise to some snarky gossip and a few ruffled egos, but it remains mostly under control until Skye produces some ecstasy that releases everyone's inhibitions. Naturally, it climaxes with a big fight between Joe and Sally, in which the unstated tension is clearly and loudly stated. There's nothing particularly new about the film and the characters, but the ensemble work of the cast is fun to watch and Leigh and Cumming know when and how to end their movie on a quietly amusing note. 

eXistenZ (David Cronenberg, 1999)

Jude Law and Jennifer Jason Leigh in eXistenZ

Cast: Jennifer Jason Leigh, Jude Law, Ian Holm, Willem Dafoe, Don McKellar, Callum Keith Rennie, Christopher Eccleston, Sarah Polley, Robert A. Silverman, Oscar Hsu, Kris Lemche, Vik Sahay, Kirsten Johnson, James Kirchner. Screenplay: David Cronenberg. Cinematography: Peter Suschitzky. Production design: Carol Spier. Film editing: Ronald Sanders. Music: Howard Shore. 

It would be easy to ascribe the "body horror" of David Cronenberg's films to an adolescent desire to gross people out, but eXistenZ shows, more than perhaps any other of his movies, a deeper satiric intent. It establishes his kinship to authors like Swift and Kafka and D.H. Lawrence: a recognition of our alienation from the organic. I think the moment that shocked me most in the early part of the film came when I saw the console, the controller for the VR game that Allegra Gellar (Jennifer Jason Leigh) is demonstrating to her audience of potential players. Instead of a box of metal and plastic, it's a flesh-colored blob. It connects to the players not with headsets or helmets but with an UmbiCord, which is exactly what it sounds like: a fleshy rope that attaches to the player's spine, not with anything like a USB port but with an implanted orifice that's very like an anus. Throughout the film, we are confronted with the moist, the slimy, the irregular, from a gun that's flesh and bone and shoots teeth to a Chinese restaurant's "special" that makes the gorge rise. Cronenberg is intent on reminding us that though we are flesh and blood, we shy from the fact. When Ted Pikul (Jude Law) recoils from having a port implanted in his spine, he objects to the vulnerability of an opening directly into his body, whereupon Allegra simply opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, reminding him that we already have physical openings to the world. On this premise, Cronenberg builds his intricate, recursive story, one that defies summary but carries a multitude of meanings. Yes, it's a satire on the videogame industry, and yes, it's a commentary on our notions of reality itself. It's often compared to The Matrix (Lana Wachowski, Lilly Wachowski), which came out the same year, but I think it's a superior, more layered film.  

Good Time (Josh Safdie, Benny Safdie, 2017)

Good Time (Josh Safdie, Benny Safdie, 2017)

Cast: Robert Pattinson, Benny Safdie, Buddy Duress, Taliah Webster, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Barkhad Abdi, Necro, Peter Verby, Erik Paykert. Screenplay: Ronald Bronstein, Josh Safdie. Cinematography: Sean Price Williams. Production design: Sam Lisenco. Film editing: Ronald Bronstein, Josh Safdie. Music: Daniel Lopatin.

Connie Nikas is a hoodlum with no redeeming qualities other than that dogs like him and that, in his criminal way, he's devoted to his mentally challenged brother, Nick. And that he's played by Robert Pattinson, which goes a long way in the raucous, often appalling, frequently hilarious Good Time. Pattinson's performance in the movie, like the later performances of Kristen Stewart, almost makes me want to check out the Twilight movies that brought them to fame -- a fame they've been trying to unburden themselves from ever since by working with highly independent directors like, in Pattinson's case, the Safdie brothers. This is the first film by the brothers that I've seen, and I was driven to check it out by a profile in the New Yorker occasioned by their latest release, Uncut Gems. At the film's start, Nick (played by Benny Safdie) is in a psychiatrist's office, reacting with paranoia and incomprehension to the therapist's questions and his note-taking, until Connie breaks into the session to take him away. The next thing we see, the brothers are robbing a bank. The theft and its aftermath are staged like a caper thriller, but with an overlay of pain because we're aware of how Connie is exploiting his brother for his own ends. And that mixture of pain and comedy persists throughout the film as Connie keeps screwing up and improvising more ingenious ways to get out of what he's screwed up. We can't really like Connie -- he's too much of a hoodlum for that, and he gets too many innocent people swept up in his manipulations -- but we have to have a kind of perverse admiration for his ingenuity. And that's where Pattinson's skill as an actor, reinforced by his good looks, works to keep us off balance. It helps, too, that an even worse hoodlum, Ray (Buddy Duress), gets caught up in Connie's misadventures, serving as a despicable foil. The Safdies and cinematographer Sean Price Williams ground the film's knockabout story in some very real Queens locations.

The Hudsucker Proxy (Joel Coen, Ethan Coen, 1994)

Cast: Tim Robbins, Paul Newman, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Charles Durning, Jim True-Frost, John Mahoney, Bill Cobbs, Bruce Campbell. Screenplay: Ethan Coen, Joel Coen, Sam Raimi. Cinematography: Roger Deakins. Production design: Dennis Gassner. Film editing: Thom Noble. Music: Carter Burwell.

Maybe the most divisive of the Coen brothers' movies. It's certified rotten on Rotten Tomatoes at 57%, but even there you'll find reviewers who think it "criminally overlooked and sinfully wonderful" and "A wickedly funny and incisive lampoon of big business." I had avoided it for years, but when I gave in and finally watched it I was occasionally amused and sometimes surprised. What doesn't work for me, however, is its hommage to the screwball comedies of the 1930s and '40s. That sort of thing is rarely worth doing, unless you do it with unabashed affection, as Peter Bogdanovich did in What's Up, Doc? (1972). Bogdanovich wisely took the tropes of classic screwball and updated them. The Coens and co-writer Sam Raimi, however, make the mistake of retaining for their film the period in which screwball flourished, and the contrast of their ersatz screwball with the real thing becomes apparent.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High (Amy Heckerling, 1982)

Jennifer Jason Leigh and Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Jeff Spicoli: Sean Penn
Stacy Hamilton: Jennifer Jason Leigh
Brad Hamilton: Judge Reinhold
Mike Damone: Robert Romanus
Mark "Rat" Ratner: Brian Backer
Linda Barrett: Phoebe Cates
Mr. Hand: Ray Walston
Mr. Vargas: Vincent Schiavelli
Charles Jefferson: Forest Whitaker

Director: Amy Heckerling
Screenplay: Cameron Crowe
Based on a book by Cameron Crowe
Cinematography: Matthew F. Leonetti
Art director: Daniel A. Lomino

Of the few standouts in the teen comedy genre, Fast Times at Ridgemont High is the one most beloved of that pig in the python, the Baby Boomers. It's not as nostalgic as the granddaddy of the genre, American Graffiti (George Lucas, 1973), or as smart as Dazed and Confused (Richard Linklater, 1993), or as savagely witty as Tina Fey's Mean Girls (Mark Waters, 2004). It's not even as cleverly conceived as director Amy Heckerling's other major outing in the genre, Clueless (1995). But it is the one most frank about teenage sexuality, especially in the relationship between Jennifer Jason Leigh's Stacy and Phoebe Cates's Linda, in which the supposedly "experienced" Linda serves as the virginal Stacy's mentor. The film also admirably confronts the question of abortion straightforwardly: Stacy has one and suffers no lasting trauma. Instead the condemnation lands on the guy, Mike Damone, whose callous treatment of Stacy is devastatingly portrayed. Otherwise, Fast Times is best seen as a landmark in the careers of future Oscar winners Sean Penn, Forest Whittaker, and Nicolas Cage (who has a small part billed as "Brad's Bud" under the name Nicolas Coppola), and as a demonstration of the skill of someone who has always deserved the Oscar she hasn't won, namely Jennifer Jason Leigh. The cast also features future big names like Eric Stolz and Anthony Edwards in small roles, and gave a brief boost to the career of Judge Reinhold that flared in the mid-1980s and then fizzled. But while Fast Times at Ridgemont High is never quite the "scuz-pit" that Roger Ebert, on an off night, saw it as, it hasn't worn very well. The acting is sometimes just this side of amateurish and the blend of the seriousness of Stacy's scenes with the more familiar classroom comedy involving Spicoli and Mr. Hand lacks finesse. While the movie has a slight feminist edge in its treatment of sex, it also involves some gratuitous breast-baring on the part of Leigh and Cates.

The Hateful Eight (Quentin Tarantino, 2015)

The title, The Hateful Eight, is pretty clearly an homage of sorts to such films as The Magnificent Seven (John Sturges, 1960), The Dirty Dozen (Robert Aldrich, 1967), and even The Wild Bunch (Sam Peckinpah, 1969).  And it's well to remember how all of those films were once criticized for excessive violence and The Wild Bunch was once threatened with an NC-17 rating. None of them contained anything like the violence of The Hateful Eight, which is visited on all of the characters, but most memorably on the one woman among the eight: Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh), who is subjected to torrents of blood, vomit, and blown-out brains along with repeated blows to the face and a final drawn-out hanging. Writer-director Quentin Tarantino and his defenders excuse the excess of violence by arguing that his cinematic violence is a metaphor for racial and sexual violence in America and an expression of the revenge mentality that undermines the due administration of justice. As Oswaldo Mobray (Tim Roth) argues in the film, "dispassion is the very essence of justice. For justice delivered without dispassion is always in danger of not being justice." That Mobray is using this argument to forestall any actual dispassionate justice meted out to him only reinforces its irony -- a kind of postmodern irony that some will argue tends to lead us into spirals of self-defeat. That's why Tarantino's films often feel so nihilistic, despite their wit and technical prowess. At more than three hours, The Hateful Eight is about an hour too long, which I think is a fatal flaw, considering that the suspense lags as the slow revelation of its plot twists emerges. The wait for the eruptions of violence that we know are coming produces a kind of prurience, but there is no cathartic release when they arrive. The movie is well-acted by Leigh, Roth, Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Walton Goggins, Demián Bichir, Bruce Dern, and Michael Madsen as the eight, and Channing Tatum gives a remarkable performance in his late surprise appearance. The music by Ennio Morricone won a well-deserved, long overdue Oscar, and the cinematography by Robert Richardson makes the most of the shift from spectacular mountain scenery to the claustrophobic setting of the major part of the film. But Tarantino has settled into predictability, and I want him to show us something new.

Anomalisa (Charlie Kaufman and Duke Johnson, 2015)

Michael Stone: David Thewlis
Lisa Helleman: Jennifer Jason Leigh
Everybody Else: Tom Noonan

Director: Duke Johnson, Charlie Kaufman
Screenplay: Charlie Kaufman
Based on a play by Charlie Kaufman (as Francis Fregoli)
Cinematography: Joe Passarelli
Production design: John Joyce, Huy Vu
Music: Carter Burwell

Of all forms of animation, stop-motion has for me the greatest creep factor, which Charlie Kaufman, who wrote the screenplay, and Duke Johnson, who supervised the animation, deliberately play on in Anomalisa. Traditional cel animation works with the charm of seeing hand-drawn pictures come to life, and computer animation has overcome the gee-whiz element of technological innovation to bring about a simulacrum of real life. But to my mind, only Nick Park and the geniuses at Aardman have managed to overcome the flickery stiffness of stop-motion, and that mainly by telling genuinely funny stories. Anomalisa succeeds too, but it isn't funny -- except in parts. It begins with Michael Stone (voiced by David Thewlis), an expert in the manipulative field of "customer service," arriving in Cincinnati to deliver an address to a convention. Soon we begin to notice something odd: All of the people he meets, male and female, sound the same. They all speak with the voice of Tom Noonan, with only a few variations of accent and pitch to distinguish them from one another. So it's a shock when we -- and Stone -- hear a female voice (Jennifer Jason Leigh's) outside his hotel room. Stone immediately pursues the voice and finds its owner, Lisa Hesselman, who is bowled over to be meeting the Michael Stone, famous in customer-service circles for his book on the topic. Stone invites Lisa and her roommate for a drink, then rather rudely throws over the roommate and asks Lisa back to his room. Kaufman's creation of shy, awkward Lisa, who is deeply self-conscious because of a facial scar that she hides with her hair and who talks constantly and nervously, is a masterstroke. (Anomalisa was originally a play in which Thewlis and Leigh sat on opposite sides of the stage with Noonan in the middle.) Stone calls Lisa an anomaly, a word that he morphs into "anomalisa," and after persuading her to sing Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," they have sex. (The film is rated R and there is full-frontal male puppet nudity.) But the next morning, after a beautifully staged nightmare sequence that plays on Stone's guilt and paranoia, he finds his infatuation with Lisa beginning to fade: When she speaks, he begins to hear Noonan's voice echoing everything she says. He has a breakdown during his convention address, and returns home to his family, now uncertain about his sanity. It's a devastating tale, based in part on a neuropsychological phenomenon known as the Fregoli delusion -- the hotel Stone stays in is called the Fregoli, which is also the pseudonym Kaufman used on the play -- but more largely on the universal conundrum of personal identity. It gets into your head and stays there like an unsettling dream.