Who exactly was Lee Israel? Leonore Carol “Lee” Israel, born in New York in December 1939, died in New York in December 2014. In the 1970s she began writing biographies, her first being about Tallulah Bankhead, in 1972. Her third and last biography was published in 1985 and concerned Estee Lauder. Unfortunately for Lee it came out at the same time as Lauder’s own autobiography and simply could not compete. The film Can You Ever Forgive Me? narrates an episode in the life of Lee Israel. In 1991 she lives alone with just an elderly, ailing cat called Jersey for company. She loses her job as a proofreader, for inappropriate language, and for drinking whisky in the office. She suffers from “writer’s block” as she attempts yet another biography, this time about Fanny Brice, a comedienne, singer and actress who died in 1951. She is three months behind in the rent. She turns up at a party given by her agent, Marjorie, who could not be less interested in what Lee describes as her “fascinating new projects”. To get her own back, Lee steals toilet rolls from the bathroom, and an overcoat from the coat-check. The outlook is depressing, to say the least. We next find her in a bar at four o’clock in the afternoon, alone, drinking whisky. And she meets Jack Hock, who is all that Lee is not. She is short and dumpy. He is tall and elegant. She dresses just to cover herself. He dresses to impress. She is unsociable, sullen, staves off any social contact. He exudes charm, will talk to anyone, makes instant contact. Neither of them has any income to speak of. One day, Lee Israel’s life takes a turn for the better. Doing a bit of research for her Fanny Brice biography, she comes across some letters signed by Brice herself. In a moment of inspiration she quickly hides them and manages to sell them in one of those New York bookshops dealing in rare books and unusual finds. Lee has discovered a new source of income: the market for letters written by celebrities. She starts on her new letter-writing career using a collection of old typewriters, one for each writer. These are not copies, fakes perhaps, but original letters Lee composes imbuing them with the very essence of the person she personifies. She researches her characters to reproduce each one’s writing style and manner of speech. Her favorite character seems to have been the writer and scriptwriter Dorothy Parker. The film’s title -- Can You Ever Forgive Me? -- alludes to Dorothy apologizing for her alcoholic behavior at some party. There is a moment in the film where we see Lee enjoying and reciting lines from The Little Foxes on TV (Parker wrote additional dialogues for this film). Dorothy and Lee had in common a huge capacity for alcoholic intake, a caustic sense of humor and a talent for scathing comments. Lee devotes the next year and a half to her letter writing business. She writes some 400 or more, from the most diverse celebrities, Edna Ferber, Noel Coward, and Dorothy Parker being only a few. To Lee this is the most creative, gratifying time of her life. For once she is happy, and manages to pay off her debts. Of course, rumours and suspicions eventually catch up with her. Her friend Jack makes use of his considerable talents of persuasion to sell the letters for her. As a last resort she takes to stealing and selling genuine letters, replacing them with fakes. The FBI is implacable. Lee receives a suspended sentence of five years, the first six months to be spent under house arrest. Jack, that good friend of hers who denounced her and collaborated with the FBI, is given a suspended sentence of three years. The film Can You Ever Forgive Me? is based on the book Lee Israel wrote concerning this episode in her life. Published in 2008 it was more successful than any of her biographies This is by no means a glittering super production. It is a loving reconstruction of New York in the last decade of the 20th century, reproducing some of Lee Israel’s favourite haunts: the bars she used to drink in, the renowned Bar Julius, the second hand bookshops she knew so well. It includes a lot of music and songs of the time, including one sung by a transgender singer (Justin Vivian Bond) In the Bar Julius, that well-known venue among the gay community of New York. The script by Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty is agile, sparse, concise, with no unnecessary explanations and with not a dialogue too many. The two main actors, Melissa McCarthy (Lee Israel) and Richard E. Grant (Jack Hock), are extraordinary, portraying two solitary people who live precariously and survive miraculously. Melissa McCarthy started her professional life as a stand-up comedian, before beginning her film career, appearing basically in comedies. This time she has put together a character so complex, so intrinsically unpleasant as to be moving, tender, even likable. McCarthy’s version of Lee Israel is grumpy, thorny, bad-tempered, hopeless at personal relationships (she only gets on well with her cat, Jersey). In Jack Hock she finds a friend, she trusts him with her privacy, her secrets, and even lets him into her home – with mixed results. Richard E. Grant is a perfect Jack Hock: that happy conman dripping charm and charisma, oozing raffish elegance and juggling uncertain finances of a dubious origin. What a shame that though both actors were nominated, neither ended up winning an Oscar. This is Marielle Heller’s second full length film, her first being The Diary of a Teenage Girl (2015), dealing with a teenager’s first, and most enjoyable sexual experiences. However, she seems to have several projects in hand so hopefully we will soon hear more from her.

The film starts near the end. Zain is being brought to court from a juvenile detention centre to sue his parents for having brought him into the world. When we see in lengthy flashback what that world was like for him, we are inclined to agree. Zain is supposed to be 12 years old, but looks a squalid age eight. His birth was never registered, he has never been to school. He, his parents and a crowd of brothers and sisters live in a Beirut slum called Capernaum. He works all day for Assaad a neighbouring store owner -- running errands, making deliveries, hauling stuff up long flights of stairs. As a business sideline Zain's family peddles Tramadol. One day Zain realizes that his beloved sister Sahar, age 11, has begun menstruating. He washes out her panties for her, steals sanitary towels for her, warns her not to throw the used ones out in case their mother discovers them. Of course she does. Sahar is married off to Assaad in exchange for some chickens. Zain runs away. He is befriended by Rahil, an Ethiopian illegal immigrant. She feeds him, washes him, lets him stay, and in return he helps look after her baby boy called Yonas. One day Rahil is picked up by the police and Zain is left looking after the baby. When he finds Rahil's home has been locked up with her belongings thrown out in the street, he finds his only option is to hand over Yonas to Aspro (who deals in false ID documents and is also a people smuggler). Aspro promises Zain he will find Yonas a wonderful home with wonderful parents. He also tells Zain he can help him leave for Turkey, or even Sweden. All he needs is some sort of ID. He returns to the family home in search of just that, not knowing that his parents never registered his birth. Besides receiving a beating, he finds out that Sahar is dead. She became pregnant, and then bled to death outside the hospital. The hospital would not admit her because she had no ID. Zain grabs a knife and rushes out to attack Assaad. So, here we have a fullblown melodrama: the poor with no future; an unscrupulous trafficker who robs defenceless babies and tricks young boys; a young girl who dies before she even has a chance to live. All narrated soberly, coldly, heart-breakingly. The final ending has a tinge of hope. Thanks to Caritas little Yonas is rescued before he can be shipped off to be sold and is reunited with his mother. Zain finally smiles into the camera as his photograph is taken for his much needed ID. He will never recuperate his childhood. He may begin to enjoy his youth. This is a powerful, deeply moving film. Nadine Labaki is an accomplished young actress and filmmaker, whose previous work has focused mainly on women, their lives, hopes and aspirations (Caramel, 2007; Where do we go from here? 2011), Here the theme is relentless, grinding poverty. In all his short life young Zain has never known anything but poverty, work, deprivation. He has never slept in a real bed. He is a survivor, a warrior, a master of making do, dealing with impossible difficulties, managing to go on living. Zain Al Rafeea is superb in the part, as indeed is the whole cast, mainly first-time actors. Christopher Aoun, a German-Lebanese cinematographer portrays with documentary-style veracity the grim starkness of this Beirut slum.

When I finished watching Vice, my first thought was: Oh-my-goodness, I wonder if Dick Cheney and his family sued the producers. Later I realized that a lot of Cheney's fundamentalist views, strategies and actions, had come straight out of his autobiography. What's more, many Americans approve of his actions, think of him as a national hero, An American version of Horatio Nelson, perhaps. So much for British naivety! My next Oh-my-goodness moment was when the false final credits came onto the screen. I wondered whether I had dropped off to sleep for a moment, lost some crucial point. Were the Cheneys really spending their golden years breeding golden retrievers? How quaint. But no. VICE is clearly divided into a first and second part, and the false credits mark the division. The first half shows Dick Cheney growing up in Nebraska, a typical middle class youngster from the midwest, getting drunk, flunking school, being scolded by Lynne his then girlfriend, soon to become wife, accomplice, partner, soulmate. He sobers up, marries Lynne,cuts down on the booze, develops a taste for pastries and an expanding belly. He climbs the political ladder and also becomes immensely rich as CEO of Halliburton. The second half is triggered by THE PHONE CALL: an invitation to talk about becoming George W.'s running mate, as Vice President of the USA (notoriously a nothing job). Cheney accepts, but on his own terms and becomes the most powerful VP in history. His are the major strategical decisions, it is he who maneuvers the US into invading Iraq. He lays blame where no blame is due, makes and breaks careers, hires and fires at will. To portray this power game, director Adam McKay (The Big Short, 2015) opts for good, fast dialog (with the exception of a curious bedtime, Shakespearean-type repartee between Mr. and Mrs. Cheney) and a generous injection of humor . Otherwise Cheney would be just too scary. Perhaps the film is a little too long, a little too verbose, takes too long to get going; the second half is faster, more interesting than the first. But as a whole it is entertaining, and gives a idea of what was going on behind the scenes in the United States government, both before and after 9/11, 2001. Christian Bale as Dick Cheney is as impressive as he is unrecognizable. He grows his character from callow youth, to smoothly accomplished politician answering to some superior officer, to Vice President Richard Cheney, answerable to none. Bale's Cheney is cold, calculating, enigmatic. His face is a mask. He is like a sinister octopus, with tentacles everywhere. Amy Adams is no less formidable as the formidable Lynne, the perfect American wife always standing by her husband, defending him, applauding him, accompanying him. The rest of the cast is little short of outstanding: Steve Carell is Donald Rumsfeld, Sam Rockwell is George W., Lisa Gay Hamilton is Condoleezza Rice, and so on. All are extraordinary. The cinematography by Australian Greig Fraser is efficient and gives an idyllic tinge to the scenes of family life with the Cheneys (making Dick Cheney himself an even more sinister character!). So, VICE for all its shortcomings, its verbosity, its occasional flabbiness, is well worth seeing, both for the outstanding acting and as a social document.