Sully

This morning I saw Sully, starring Tom Hanks and Aaron Eckhart.

Anyone who was around in January of 2009 will remember the "miracle on the Hudson." The day that a US Airways pilot safely landed a plane on the Hudson River after both engines failed following a bird strike. The pilot, Captain Chesley Sullenberger (Hanks), quickly became a national hero, as there was no loss of life in the incident.

What the public never knew was the extensive investigation after the landing, which came close to implying Sullenberger put lives at risk with his quick reaction to the emergency.

The film examines what it was like for both Sully and his co-pilot, Jeff Skiles (Eckhart), to navigate the post traumatic stress disorder from the accident as they were fighting to convince the NTSB they did the best thing possible for everyone on board.

Tom Hanks channels Sully in his portrayal; from the way he furrows his brows to the walk we all got used to seeing as the press fell in love with the real-life captain. He is thoughtful, soft-spoken, concerned and–yes, heroic. As usual, it's hard not to marvel at just how much Hanks can disappear into his characters, being one of the most familiar actors in the world. But he does, and although we know how the flight ends, the scenes where we see what it was like both for the flight crew and the passengers are harrowing.

This suspense is a credit to Director Clint Eastwood, who has a knack for building great tension (see: American Sniper, Play Misty for Me, etc.). Though much of the flight of which the film is focused is shown to us in flashbacks, it's no less frightening.

For over 90 minutes of watching something so forensic in exploration, it's a satisfying, thrilling ride, which will surely serve as a reminder of one of New York's best days for years to come.

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Rabbit Hole

Today I saw Rabbit Hole, starring Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart.

Becca (Kidman) and Howie (Eckhart) have lost a son. Their beloved 4-year-old Danny chased their dog into the street and was struck and killed by a car. This was eight months ago.

Today their world is dismal. They don't make love, don't agree on ways to heal (he likes group therapy; she hates it) and have several problems communicating as a result. To top it off, Becca's irresponsible sister is knocked up and Becca can't help but be jealous and judgmental about the new baby.

Sound like fun? Well, of course not, but it's not quite as hard to watch as it sounds.

Sure, Becca is draped in depressing grays and exhibits the loss of energy any of us feel when experiencing pain of that magnitude, but there is a merit to what's happening on-screen.

The relationship Becca develops with Jason (Miles Teller), the teenager who was driving the car that killed her son, is tender and tragic—as if each time she looks at him she sees an age that her son will never reach.

Becca and Howie are angry, but they're not malicious toward one another, though their marriage is crumbling at every turn.

Gaby (Sandra Oh) is a friend Howie makes in group therapy and her presence seems appropriate and comforting in light of the circumstances. She's hurting too, and as the saying goes: misery loves company.

There is resolution without closure here, and it's done gracefully thanks to director John Cameron Mitchell. This 'slice of death' story could have been a blatant sob-fest if it had fallen into the wrong hands, but thankfully it did not.

Really, the only thing wrong with it is Kidman's inability to hold her American accent during outburst scenes. But that is forgivable in such a well-written, enveloping film.

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