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Series: Vampire Knight Guilty: Part Two
UK Release date: 23rd May 2011
Distributor: Manga
Certificate: 12
Running time: 72 mins
Director: Kiyoko Sayama
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese
Review by: Chris Harris
Fans of gothic romance Vampire Knight Guilty have been made to wait for every morsel of Matsuri Hino’s anime series, but now they have another volume to get their teeth into. Kiyoko Sayama is back in the director’s chair as the story of Yuki Cross continues with three episodes that take us up to the halfway point in the show’s second series.
As ever, the action revolves around Cross Academy, an institution that houses Day classes of humans – and Night classes of vampires. Yuki and her friend Zero Kiryu are charged with keeping those unhappy bedfellows apart, but are constantly distracted by a love triangle that includes them both, as well as a true-blood vampire, Kaname Kuran.
Yuki knows that a vampire attacked her on a snowy night ten years previously and that Kaname rescued her - but she knows little else. In these three episodes, an increasingly haunted and tormented Yuki tries to piece together her past despite the reluctance of Kaname to reveal what really happened to her.
Kaname’s response to Yuki’s pleas is to take their relationship to a whole new level, while Zero, having finally succumbed to his own transformation into a vampire, tries to control his own bloodlust as he keeps Yuki out of harm’s way.
The return of Zero’s twin, Ichiru, and Senri Shiki heralds even more danger for Yuki and the story takes a violent turn before Sayama leaves the series on a cliff-hanger at the end of episode seven...
That eye-catching set-piece is very welcome, not least because it’s preceded by a good 45 minutes of treading water. These episodes turn the focus back on Yuki’s struggle to cope with her missing memories and the voices in her head. But the intensity of the relationships between Yuki, Kaname and Zero weigh down the story.
The three miserablists swap sighs, gasps and long pauses. And when they do talk…let’s just say a lot gets said before anything really gets said. There’s nothing wrong with a measure of brooding. but there’s only so much one can take of Zero and Kaname peering through their fringes at a world that misunderstands them.
When the emotional scenes make way for action, Vampire Knight Guilty goes up a gear. Whether it’s Kaname and Zero squaring up, or the menacing presence of Ichiru and Senri, volume two grabs your attention when the love triangle is put to one side. Sayama switches the tone in the latter stages, linking Yuki’s relationships to the wider vampire world and the power within that sphere – and it gives this volume a timely boost.
So what of the characters? Frankly, this is not a good time to be Yuki. She is beset on all sides by problems, none of which are of her own making. As ever, she is torn by her emotions for Zero and Kaname, and yet her true quest here is to uncover the secrets of her past. Yuki pushes hard, but is rebuffed at every turn, and sinks further into despair as visions of blood, internal voices and external threats gang up on her.
Zero can barely help - he has enough problems of his own. Those who have seen volume one of Vampire Knight Guilty will know that Zero is still piecing his own world together in the wake of the Shizuka Hio incident. In these episodes, he cuts a peripheral figure while others take centre stage.
Others like Kaname. He is as controlling, as ever, but the mask finally slips in his scenes with Yuki and that makes Kaname rather more likeable than before. All the same, he holds all the aces here. If knowledge is power, Kaname has stacks of it, and it’s left to Yuki to flail around, her eyes bulging, in a vain attempt to extract information.
Once you’ve watched that scene five or six times in the space of two episodes, you’ll understand what a welcome relief it is to see Ichiru and Senri. Both are out for revenge and both shake this series from its torpor.
The threat of violence is cranked up with those two on the scene – note how the moody, brooding piano replaces the power ballads in the soundtrack – but Sayama never lets Vampire Knight Guilty get too serious or too dour. His solution is to lob in moments of whimsy, even farce, as the gothic darkness of the plot is broken up by unexpected shrieks from the more ludicrous characters.
You can see what Sayama is trying to do – this series doesn’t want to take itself too seriously - but his execution is not quite right. In most cases, it’s off-putting, not soothing, to follow five minutes of anguish with a quick burst of stupidity.
The animation goes into overdrive when the farce kicks in, with contorted features to the fore. But the default setting for Vampire Knight Guilty’s animation is brilliantly drawn, often static, gothic visuals. Shades of grey with flashes and flourishes fill every episode, while the male characters are dashing with angular features.
The static nature of the animation works perfectly with the slow, brooding dialogue, but it sparks into life when violent ensues or when Yuki is imperilled – her petrified, bulging eyes are a sight to behold, and perfectly capture her claustrophobia as the world closes in.
The visuals and technical merits of Vampire Knight Guilty are a major plus, even if they are undermined to some degree by a rather formulaic script and that interminable love triangle. But those concerns are unlikely to bother this series’ target demographic. The fans know what to expect – angst, smouldering looks and gothic romance – and that’s exactly what they get.
Mid-season episodes are often drawn-out affairs with character development crowding out pyrotechnics. But Vampire Knight Guilty presses all the right buttons for the teenagers (and the older crowd) who have invested their own emotions in the story of Yuki and her two suitors, Zero and Kaname. They might have expected more than a paltry three episodes, but this volume’s melodrama will keep the fans on side and Sayama’s cliff-hanging climax will leave them thirsty for more. And that’s the whole point, isn’t it? CH
Film: The Next Three Days
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 16th May 2011
Distributor: Lionsgate
Certificate: 12
Running time: 129 mins
Director: Paul Haggis
Starring: Russell Crowe, Elizabeth Banks, Michael Buie, Moran Atias, Remy Nozik
Genre: Crime/Drama/Romance/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: USA/France
Language: English
Review by: Chris Harris
Three years after French film Anything For Her earned critical acclaim beyond its shores, Fred Cavayé’s thriller gets a Hollywood makeover in the hands of Oscar-winning director Paul Haggis. Switching the action to the grim streets of Pittsburgh, Haggis casts Russell Crowe as the everyman who sets out to rescue his wife from jail. But does this remake retain the hallmarks of its French predecessor or is it merely a pale imitation?
If you’ve seen the original, you can probably skip this bit. If you haven’t, here’s the gist. John Brennan (Crowe) and his beautiful wife Lara (Elizabeth Banks) seem to have it all: a happy marriage, a healthy son and an enviable way of life. But their serene existence is blown apart when Lara is arrested in a morning raid for the murder of her boss.
Fast forward three years. Lara is suicidal, John has exhausted the appeal process and, increasingly desperate, he decides he has only one option left to him – to break her out of prison. Cue John’s descent into the underworld where he seeks out the advice of an ex-con (Liam Neeson) and gathers the tools he will need to execute his elaborate escape plan.
Plunged into danger, the stakes are raised when John receives news that Lara is about to be transferred to a new prison in the next three days (hence the film’s title). Convinced of his wife’s innocence, John is willing to risk everything for her freedom and their future together. But can an ordinary guy, a mild-mannered teacher no less, really pull off such an extraordinary act?
That conundrum was the central theme of the original and it remains the most compelling idea on show in Haggis’ remake. Could you embrace danger for a just cause? Do you have the single-minded determination to step out of your comfort zone and into the abyss? Would you cosy up to hardened criminals if the ends justified the means?
The answer for John Brennan is, of course, a resounding yes. “I’m hopeless without my wife. I can’t even ride a bike,” he admits. More intriguingly, he gives a clue about his state of mind in a question put to his class: “What part of life is truly under control? What if we chose to exist in a reality of our own making - does that render us insane?” Haggis never really explores this issue as thoroughly as he might.
Anything For Her was hailed as a riveting thriller illuminated by a stand-out performance from lead actor Vincent Lindon and a menacing score by Klaus Badelt. But for all its plusses, the original was dogged by concerns over the plot’s plausibility. As any parent (let alone single parent) will tell you, when you’ve got a job to hold down, a child to raise, a home to maintain and meals to cook, there really isn’t time to break your nearest and dearest out of jail.
Frankly, those accusations of implausibility are even harder to ignore in Haggis’ movie. The director brings the action bang up to date – there’s a reference to the Haiti earthquake while John charges around taking pictures and timing security procedures on his iPhone – but, if anything, the gloss that Hollywood inevitably applies makes the story even less convincing.
The tone is set by an early scene on the morning of Lara’s arrest. The Brennans are sat in their kitchen, perfectly groomed, perfectly behaved, enjoying a perfect breakfast. It’s a million miles from the chaotic rush, bedraggled hair and possible hangover that afflicts most families at that time of day. Perhaps a less idyllic, more realistic depiction would help the audience sympathise with the Brennans’ plight once their lives are turned upside down.
If you don’t have to stifle a chuckle during that portrait of a ‘normal family life’, you might when Lara enters the visiting room three years into her sentence. Her hair is soft, her skin is vibrant and her lipstick is perfectly applied - those 36 months behind bars don’t appear to have taken any toll whatsoever. Once again, the air-brushed sheen of Haggis’ movie creates a disconnection between the supposedly beleaguered characters and the audience observing their plight.
Then there’s Russell Crowe. In many ways this is a reprise of his role in another recent remake, State of Play, in which his run-of-the-mill journalist is lured into a web of intrigue and danger. But the problem with Crowe is that he’s so recognisable as an action hero (Gladiator, Robin Hood) or a tough guy (LA Confidential) that it’s hard to train your brain to accept him as the ‘average guy’ he plays in The Next Three Days. That’s not his fault, it’s a casting issue, but it only serves to amplify the sense of disbelief as events unfold.
There’s nothing wrong with Crowe’s performance, but he seems in far less danger than his predecessor in the role, Vincent Lindon, simply because he is rugged, well-built and can clearly handle himself. Lindon doesn’t look like he belongs among the rough and tumble of the underworld, but the brooding Crowe does.
Not that Crowe is ever outshone by his co-stars. Banks is so-so as Lara, appearing far less drained than a supposed victim of a miscarriage of justice should; Neeson growls his way through his cameo as ex-con Damon Penington; and Brian Dennehy offers some gravitas as John’s quiet, world-weary father.
Predictably the action is ramped up for the big finale and this is watchable enough, but Haggis loses marks for dragging his feet. The Next Three Days is half-an-hour longer than Anything For Her, essentially because its director cannot resist a few extra flourishes during the film’s denouement. Every dramatic sequence is squeezed to the maximum while Haggis lobs in a few curveballs that don’t appear in the original. It all hints at a lack of confidence with what has been laid out in the first ninety minutes.
There are laugh-out-loud moments, but not for the right reasons. For a man trying to fly under the radar, John’s insistence on screeching his brakes make him the most conspicuous driver in Pittsburgh. Then, having spent so long racing against the clock, the Brennans find time for a reflective scene that clashes with everything that’s gone before.
If you’re still with The Next Three Days at this point, then good luck to you. But while Anything For Her was a taut, tense thriller, its remake is flabbier, sanitised and more contrived. If you didn’t know better, that might be okay. But when you’ve seen the superior original, it feels like a waste of two hours. CH
Film: The Detective
Release date: 11th April 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 109 mins
Director: Oxide Pang
Starring: Aaron Kwok, Liu Kai-chi, Wong Tak-bun, Lau Siu-ming, Lai Yiu-cheung
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Studio: Terracotta
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong
We’re used to seeing the fruits of the Pang brothers’ combined labours - notably with 2002’s acclaimed The Eye - but in this psychological thriller about a private detective drawn into a murder mystery, only production duties are shared. Danny steps aside for his twin Oxide to take the directorial reins and guide Aaron Kwok through the sleazy backstreets of Thailand on the trail of a suspected killer.
Kwok stars as Tam, a private investigator who is persuaded to track down a young woman after his friend, Lung (Shing Fui-on) bursts into his office in a state of panic before claiming that she is trying to kill him.
A wad of notes convinces Tam to pursue the case and, although he has nothing but a photograph with which to begin his investigation, he soon uncovers a web of intrigue and a whole world of trouble. While another friend, Inspector Fung Chak (Liu Kai-chi) attempts to warn him off, Tam vows to solve the mystery. But as the body count steadily rises, so does the danger to his own life…
The Detective is flawed, but it does look great. The Pang brothers have waxed lyrical in the past about their devotion to cinematography, editing and sound, and this movie delivers in that sphere. It swept the board at the 27th Hong Kong Film Awards in the technical department, scooping prizes for sound design and visual effects among others – and deservedly so. Aesthetically this is a minor treat, right down to the grimy depiction of Thailand’s backstreets, where you can almost smell the food and squalor.
The score, courtesy of Payont Permsith and Jadet Chawang, was also recognised at that ceremony. Overblown, like so much of the film, it helps ratchet up the tension when Oxide Pang deploys shock tactics to keep the plot ticking over and the audience attentive. That in itself is hardly a crime, and no surprise from a director at home in the horror genre, but for all the ingenuity of Pang’s flourishes - a sudden rush of blood from a nose or foam from a mouth - the fact the audience learns to expect a shock every dozen minutes or so rather detracts from the surprise when it comes along.
There is menace here, and not just from the soundtrack’s booming drums: dark, sleazy characters lurk in the shadows and Tam is genuinely threatened. We are regularly treated to close ups of the detective in full shocked mode – mouth wide, eyes bulging – so much so that you wonder why he chose investigating as a profession at all. Tam clearly does not have the stomach for it and probably not the brains for it either. He’s not from the Inspector Clouseau school of detectives, but, equally, Tam is hardly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Foxed by office equipment in the opening scenes, he looks out of his depth much of the time.
We do learn why Tam operates alone and, indeed, why he still persists in this line of work despite his flaws. His failing eyesight denied him his chance of official police status, and his failure to find his missing parents many years ago drives him on professionally. Tam clearly has something to prove to himself and breaking a major case would bring him redemption, hence his willingness to imperil himself.
Unfortunately, Pang’s use of Tam’s short-sightedness as a plot device is, well, short-sighted. At times, he appears to have extraordinary vision, identifying a stranger 50 yards away in a darkened car as the man of whom he caught a fleeting glimpse on a staircase hours before. And yet, at other times, he can barely see the ground in front of him. Tam atones for his lack of vision by photographing anything that seems significant like a snap-happy tourist. It’s a method that echoes Christopher Nolan’s Memento in which Guy Pearce’s character takes pictures to counteract his own deficiency, in this case memory loss.
Tam’s flaws do make him endearing, though. Oxide Pang’s sympathetic portrayal of the detective and Kwok’s winning performance gets the audience on his side and into his character’s shoes. Tam’s inner struggle is theirs, too, and that connection is one of the movie’s saving graces.
Tam spends much of the film scratching his head or chasing his tail but Kwok plays incredulous rather well and pretty much holds the whole movie together with a watchable – if occasionally hackneyed – performance. His pop star looks help significantly (Kwok made his name in dance and music before acting) and he is Pang’s trump card in the acting department. He certainly outshines Fung Chak (Liu Kai-chi), the Inspector and friend who tolerates Tam’s naïve investigative methods like a parent would allow a child to help in the kitchen as long as they didn’t touch the oven or use the knives.
While Kwok’s performance as Tam gets better and better as the film unfolds, Liu’s Chak is a rather ludicrous character who arrives at every crime scene to berate his old pal (“Call yourself a detective?!”) and then leave him to once more pursue his maverick ways. Shing Fui-on as Lung is just as entertaining – and even more bizarre – while Lai Yiu-cheung (as Sai Wing) and Kenny Wong (as Kwong Chi-hung) offer further uninspired support. But Kwok is the main draw here – he’s barely off-screen and that works fine.
A clunky script does not help Kwok and partly explains the others’ one-track performances but Oxide Pang does a decent job of tying up the loose ends. That said, the director does run the risk of losing his audience before he cleverly unravels the mystery.
Oxide Pang has delivered a stylish movie, sprinkled with head-turning flourishes and camera tricks that show off his TV commercial background, while Aaron Kwok produces a solid performance as Tam. But this is a triumph for style over substance as a workmanlike script and less-than-shocking shock tactics relegate this film from a decent effort into a mediocre one. Whether Detective 2, released in 2011, is an improvement remains to be seen. On the evidence of the sequels to The Eye, not to mention its Hollywood remake, Oxide Pang will be hard pushed to maintain what freshness there is in this project. CH
Film: The Sinking Of The Laconia
Release date: 14th March 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 171 mins
Director: Uwe Janson
Starring: Andrew Buchan, Franka Potente, Ken Duken, Brian Cox, Lindsay Duncan
Genre: Drama/History/War
Studio: Fremantle
Format: DVD
Country: Germany/UK
This is an English-language release.
If you were asked to reel off a list of infamous World War II moments, the chances are the sinking of the Laconia would not be on it. Yet few war stories are as compelling as the one renowned writer Alan Bleasdale has brought back to life in the shape of this two-part TV drama.
He takes us back to the autumn of 1942 when the RMS Laconia left Africa for her home port of Liverpool, carrying a motley crew of passengers. They ranged from privileged English ladies in the plushest quarters to 1,800 Italian prisoners of war, held captive below the water line and watched over by particularly nasty Polish guards.
Disaster befell the Laconia and her human cargo not long into the voyage. A German U-boat spotted, tracked and torpedoed the converted cruise ship, killing hundreds. The survivors, huddled in lifeboats, seemed certain to perish, too, cut adrift miles from land with little or no provisions. But, spotting that the Laconia’s refugees included women and children, the U-boat’s captain Werner Hartenstein led a stunning rescue mission.
As hundreds of survivors sheltered on his submarine and more packed into lifeboats tethered to its hull, Hartenstein informed the Allies of his actions and promised not to attack any rescue ship. Suspicious, the British ignored the broadcast and instead passed on sketchy information about the Laconia’s plight to the US Air Force. The Americans sent a bomber to search for survivors but, spotting Hartenstein’s U-boat, they opened fire…
There’s a rather obvious reason why the Laconia incident didn’t embed itself in the public’s consciousness halfway through the Second World War. Britain was hardly going to extol the virtues of a compassionate Nazi captain. And the Germans weren’t keen on promoting a man whose behaviour didn’t fit with the image of a ruthless killing machine that Hitler so adored. Instead, it’s left to Bleasdale to honour the event and its key protagonists in this British-German co-production. And his glowing reputation – he already has Boys From The Blackstuff and G.B.H. on his CV - will certainly bring it the attention it deserves.
For the story of the Laconia is not simply a gripping tale of tragic events, it also raises important questions about humanity and how compassion can prevail in the most testing of circumstances. It reminds us to look beyond the propaganda and understand that ‘good’ and ‘evil’ exists on both sides. Hartenstein, after all, is the noblest of Nazis, responsible for the naval equivalent of the Christmas truce on the Western Front.
The Sinking Of The Laconia explores other themes, too: the paranoia of war where schisms on board and in boardrooms undermine the chances of good being done. As Captain Hathaway (Danny Keogh) remarks, the Allies want “none of that love and friendship nonsense.” It also works as a critique of indiscriminate force - a charge levelled in modern-day conflict zones such as Palestine and the Middle East.
Class issues are explored, too. “No riff raff, Sarah,” warns Lady Elisabeth Fullwood (the splendid Lindsay Duncan) to her daughter (Jodi Balfour), as she eyes up a waiter on board the Laconia. Everyone knows their place on that vessel, from the pampered upper classes to the prisoners down below. And yet Bleasdale shows how the shared experience of war can cut through the class divide - after all, only survival matters when the torpedoes hit.
The mind-blowing horror, savage loss and irreversible cost that war brings is never allowed to drift far from the audience’s mind, whether it manifests itself in a moonlit ambush or the crackle of a Duke Ellington record. And, while telling this incredible story, Bleasdale addresses these issues with a slew of brilliantly-drawn characters, brought to life by some fine performances from the cast. None better than Andrew Buchan, whose Junior Third Officer Thomas Mortimer carries arguably the greatest weight of all. We catch a fleeting glimpse of him in England before the war, immersed in the happiness of family life. He tries to recreate that idyllic existence on the Laconia but events overtake him and Buchan’s haunted yet stoic, stiff-upper-lip Britishness is pretty much faultless.
Mortimer is tied in knots by his relationship with Hilda (the excellent Franka Potente) – disgusted by her shocking secret yet desperate for companionship – and this is where Bleasdale’s writing and is at its best as these lonely, anguished characters tip-toe around each other.
Mind you, everywhere you look there are fine performances. The sense of foreboding as the Laconia and the U-156 converge is epitomised by world-weary Captain Sharp (Brian Cox), who has arguably the best lines of all. “What kind of world is it when bullets and blood are the only currency? Not the kind of world I want to live in,” he tells Mortimer during one especially dark moment.
Lenny Wood, as the boxer Billy Hardacre, and Italian prisoner Di Giovanni (Ludovico Fremont), provide a humorous counter-point to Cox’s cynical Captain. Meanwhile, over on the U-boat, Bleasdale pits warmonger against humanitarian in the shape of chief engineer Rostau (Matthias Koeberlin) and Hartenstein (Ken Duken). Their relationship is arguably the most watchable of all: Koeberlin is outstanding as Rostau, a consummate soldier who smells blood whether he is bullying the U-boat new boy or tracking down the enemy. He visibly licks his lips when Hartenstein’s rescue mission is aborted and the German crew returns to a state of war: “That is our first duty,” he says with a glint in his eye.
And then there is Hartenstein, the poster boy for Nazi Germany and yet a character whose manages to lift himself above the fray to deliver one of the Second World War’s most surprising and selfless acts. “This lull is only temporary,” he reminds a British officer, but even temporary lulls rarely exist amid such bitter conflict. Duken is thoughtful, measured and authoritative as Hartenstein and it’s intriguing to watch the scenes in which his bloodthirsty crew responds – with varying degrees of reluctance - to his benevolence just hours after celebrating three direct hits on the enemy. “If you were English you’d be a gentleman,” Lady Fullwood tells Hartenstein. “Germany has gentlemen too, madam,” he replies. It’s a truism that was never passed on between 1939 and 1945.
The Sinking Of The Laconia has its flaws. It is beautifully shot for the most part - there is one stand-out scene in which the camera sweeps along the length of the packed U-boat following the rescue – but the sequence during which the Laconia is attacked is less convincing. What’s more, the suspicion the survivors felt for their rescuers (as emphasised in the DVD extra, ‘Survivors’ Stories’) doesn’t really come across in Bleasdale’s version. But those are minor quibbles
The final word should go to Italian POW, Di Giovanni. “I don’t know why I should have been chosen to survive. But I did. And so many did not. But I will tell their stories to anyone who will hear it.” Bleasdale has done exactly that. He makes us think, tugs at our heartstrings and reminds us just how good – and bad – mankind can be. CH
Film: I've Loved You So Long
Release date: 9th February 2009
Certificate: 12
Running time: 117 mins
Director: Philippe Claudel
Starring: Kristin Scott Thomas, Elsa Zylberstein, Serge Hazanavicius, Laurent Grevill, Frederic Pierrot
Genre: Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: DVD
Country: France/Germany
This critically-acclaimed, character-led French drama scooped the BAFTA for Best Foreign Film in 2009 with prizes elsewhere for its writer and first-time director Philippe Claudel plus his two leading ladies, Kristin Scott Thomas and Elsa Zylberstein.
It is the tale of two sisters trying to rebuild their relationship after fifteen years of separation. Juliette (Scott Thomas) is haunted by the secret she hoards and weighed down by the guilt she carries for the crime that landed her in prison. Léa (Zylberstein) is younger and married with two children but is eager to bring Juliette back into the fold despite the risk of alienating her husband, Luc (Serge Hazanavicius).
So what has Juliette done - and why? Her shocking crime is unveiled as she attends job interviews, meets her welfare officer or signs in at the police station. Yet it remains unmentionable in the family home. “I was away on a long trip,” is her explanation as Léa’s daughter, P'tit Lys (Lise Ségur) innocently and enthusiastically cross-questions Juliette at the dinner table shortly after her arrival.
Léa’s hospitality and determination to shed her own guilt after being urged by her parents to disown Juliette is counter-balanced by Luc’s barely-disguised hostility – he feels he has legitimate concerns for his family’s safety. Juliette makes other more accepting acquaintances along the way – notably Léa’s colleague Michel (Laurent Grévill) and Captain Fauré (Frédéric Pierrot) – as she tries to forge a future in the shadow of her damning past…
The first thing to say about I’ve Loved You So Long is this: if you enjoy watching Scott Thomas, you’ll be in clover. Only Claudel can say whether he wrote the character of Juliette with her in mind, but it is undoubtedly a perfect fit. Few actors can convey so much while saying so little and Scott Thomas delivers a master class. Which is just as well – she’s barely off-screen.
Born in Cornwall, Scott Thomas used to be considered a quintessentially English actor, best known for her role in The English Patient. But she says she considers herself more French than British, and even offered a tongue-in-cheek apology to her legion of English fans for the increasingly Gallic flavour of her output since the turn of the century. When she produces vintage work such as this, Scott Thomas can be forgiven for that – and pretty much anything else.
This is less a story, more a study of the relationships that Juliette must tolerate and nurture as she feels her way back into society. We meet her in the first scene and it’s clear that this integration is reluctantly undertaken. Léa runs towards her in the airport but Juliette - fragile, uncomfortable and smoking incessantly - would rather keep her own counsel. Back at the house, it’s no surprise she is drawn towards Luc’s mute father, Papy Paul (delightfully played by Jean-Claude Arnaud), the one character who won’t engage her in awkward conversation.
Scott Thomas deftly takes Juliette through a subtle transition. At first, she cannot help but drag all and sundry down with her. Snapping at P'tit Lys, coldly dismissing a chance sexual conquest and sucking the enthusiasm out of her eager-to-please sister, Juliette seems intent on biting the hand that feeds.
And yet, as the days and weeks unfold, chinks of light appear through the gloom. Juliette softens, finding joy in a burgeoning relationship with P'tit Lys that is played out through piano lessons. She discovers a soulmate in Michel, reserving by far her longest and most frank utterances for him. She even becomes a crutch on which Captain Fauré can lean – a character who reminds Juliette that she is not the only tortured soul out there.
But Scott Thomas is perhaps at her best during her scenes with Hazanavicius. While Léa requires no winning over, Luc makes no secret of his mistrust and disdain for her. Juliette knows her presence exposes a fault line between her sister and brother-in-law, and it’s compelling to watch how Claudel edges Juliette and Luc towards mutual respect. Scott Thomas and Hazanavicius handle these psychological pigeon steps beautifully, not least in a stand-out scene where Luc’s frostiness thaws after a surprise request from his daughter.
It’s worth mentioning the score at this stage. For the vast majority of Claudel’s film, there is none to speak of. But during key scenes, like the aforementioned, an acoustic flourish from Jean-Louis Aubert lends weight. It’s a tribute to the acting that silence works best for the most part.
The same rule applies to Claudel’s script. Crucially it is sparse enough to allow for the speechlessness that such shocking subject matter requires. But at the same time, Claudel, a novelist for many years, manages to keep the story moving at a decent enough pace.
With Scott Thomas in such stunning form, it’s difficult to take your eyes off her. But to overlook Juliette’s fellow characters would do a disservice to a brilliant cast. Zylberstein is outstanding and utterly believable as Léa, the ‘glue’ that holds the film together. Juliette feels the deepest pain but Léa has the most to lose after risking the equilibrium of her family unit by allowing this ‘alien body’ to invade it.
Despite this obvious dilemma, Léa’s loyalty for her sibling never wanes from the moment she rushes towards Juliette in the opening scene. Getting emotionally closer will prove far tougher but Léa, with ghosts of her own to exorcise, probes for common ground as they learn to be sisters again. Inevitably, this involves reminiscing about their shared days of innocence – before Juliette’s guilt changed their lives. Léa admonishes herself for her hazy memory, knowing full well it’s the only touchstone they have.
Zylberstein plays the stoic ‘fixer’ superbly and briefly steals the show when, finally, it all gets too much and she verbally assaults one of her students while debating Dostoevsky’s ‘Crime And Punishment’ - a work of fiction with echoes of her sister’s reality. Zylberstein won the César for Best Supporting Actress for her contribution to this film - and it’s easy to see why.
When you sum up I’ve Loved You So Long, it’s clear that Scott Thomas is the heart and soul of this enthralling melodrama about guilt, grief, forgiveness and family. Claudel’s script gives her the platform to produce a career-defining performance in which every word, every expression, every sigh is measured to perfection. CH
Film: Nine Queens
Release date: 27th January 2003
Certificate: 15
Running time: 114 mins
Director: Fabián Bielinsky
Starring: Gastón Pauls, Ricardo Darín, Leticia Brédice, Tomás Fonzi, Graciela Tenenbaum
Genre: Crime/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina
“If you think you’ve got it figured out…you’ve been conned.” The tagline to this Argentinean heist movie sounds like a direct challenge handed down from first-time director Fabian Bielinsky to his audience. Can YOU solve the puzzle?
You’ll spend most of the next two hours trying to do precisely that as Bielinsky toys with his public as much as his two main protagonists toy with their prey.
The aforementioned duo - Marcos (Ricardo Darín) and Juan (Gaston Pauls) - meet, apparently by chance, in a store in Buenos Aires. After the savvy Marcos steps in to rescue Juan from a con-gone-wrong, the two agree to join forces for the day. Marcos shows his young ally the tricks of his trade, including his special talent for fleecing helpless old ladies.
So far, so petty. But then the thieves stumble upon the deal of a lifetime – the chance to sell an expert forgery of an extremely rare, exceedingly expensive set of stamps. These are the Nine Queens of the title, and they lead Marcos and Juan to a potential buyer, Vidal Gandolfo (Ignasi Adabal).
The small-time crooks are on the cusp of a big splash but there are obstacles along the way. The delicate negotiations are one thing but another roadblock arrives in the guise of Marcos’ sister Valeria (Leticia Bredice), who works at the hotel in which Gandolfo is staying. She cannot hide her contempt for the brother who cheated his siblings out of their inheritance.
The stakes rise, and the tension grows as Marcos and Juan - uneasy bedfellows from the very beginning - walk a tightrope between riches and ruin. All the while, the audience is left to work out exactly who is tricking whom…
It takes something special to stand out in the crowded arena of heist movies, but Nine Queens is something special. The dialogue snaps back and forth, and the performances are note-perfect, from the fiery Bredice as Valeria to Adabal’s knowing Gandolfo.
But it’s the two leads - Darín and Pauls - that elevate this work onto a higher plane. Darín’s Marcos is wily, suave and confident, impenetrable with his manicured goatee beard and his cold, narrow eyes. Pauls’ Juan is the pretender prone to careless mistakes, wet behind the ears and thrust into danger when he has apparently just come along for the ride.
And yet, as the action unfolds, they switch roles. Marcos, the ultimate ‘big fish in a small pond’, segues from self-assured to fraught and fretting as the con approaches its denouement. Juan, so clumsy in the opening scene, seems like a little boy lost in the big boy’s world of deception. “I hope one day I’m as good as you, teacher,” is an early refrain to Marcos. He seems unsuited for this dog-eat-dog existence – his conscience won’t allow him to stoop as low as Marcos, who doesn’t flinch as he relieves a pensioner of 100 pesos and an antique ring. But the hotter it gets, the cooler Juan becomes. Indeed, he keeps the trick on track with some timely interventions as Marcos begins to flounder.
The trust (or lack of) between the two con-artists provides the movie with its centre point, but Bielinsky pulls us into a world where pretty much everyone is on the make, as they hustle amid the bustle of Buenos Aires. Marcos and Juan are crafty enough but, in one sequence, we are introduced to a pack of petty criminals as bags are snatched, cars are jacked and pockets are picked.
Everyone is playing the game, but they seem to be in denial. One grifter offers Marcos and Juan an array of stolen merchandise from his tardis-like briefcase. He is asked instead for a gun and immediately looks hurt. “I’m not a crook,” he insists. They all are, of course.
Cesar Lerner’s soundtrack lurks in the background, never intrusive and yet capable of ramping up the tension, notably when a overworked paper shredder grunts and groans with menace during the negotiation that could sink Marcos and Juan’s grand plan.
And all the while, Bielinsky’s script keeps the film ticking along at a rate of knots. Some of the movie’s finest and most cutting lines are reserved for Gandolfo and Valeria, but Marcos doesn’t miss out. Noting that Juan has taken a liking to his sister, he delivers a scathing put-down: “Can’t you see the way she swings her ass? There are no saints.”
Bielinsky’s razor-sharp writing and directing announced a huge talent to the world. He is at least partly responsible for the renaissance in Latin American cinema at the start of the century, a period that spawned the likes of Y Tu Mama Tambien and Amores Perros. Yet there is a tragic footnote to Bielinsky’s own story. The Brazilian died after suffering a heart attack in Sao Paulo in 2006 during a casting for an advertisement. He was just 47.
The world, denied the years of potential greatness ahead, will have to judge him on his debut. And Nine Queens is a film you would want to be judged on.
When you ask filmgoers to name their favourite cinematic ‘cons’, the likes of The Sting, The Usual Suspects and The Spanish Prisoner usually enter the conversation. Nine Queens belongs in the same exalted company. It’s never boring, often gripping, and both easy to follow and hard to predict. Which is exactly what you want when you watch a heist movie. CH
