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Film: Inside
Release date: 12th October 2009
Certificate: 18
Running time: 79 mins
Director: Alexandre Bustillo & Julien Maury
Starring: Beatrice Dalle, Alysson Paradis, Nathalie Roussel, Nicolas Duvauchelle, Francois-Regis Marchasson
Genre: Horror/Thriller
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD
Country: France
Released in 2007 in its native France, Inside is a continuation of the extreme French horror that the country has been producing since the turn of the millennium. Starring Betty Blue’s Beatrice Dalle and directed by first timers Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury, Inside is definitely not for the faint hearted.
Opening with a car crash from the point of view of an unborn baby, Inside aims to shock from the get go. Close to giving birth, and home alone on Christmas Eve, Sarah (Alysson Paradis) is confronted by a mysterious nameless woman outside her home.
Claiming her car has broken down; she politely requests the use of a telephone. Sensing something isn’t right, Sarah refuses to let her in. Moments later and the woman is still lurking outside, casually lighting a cigarette and staring at her prey through a glass porch window in one of the most effective scenes in the whole film.
The police arrive to check the property. When they find nothing, they leave with the promise that, whoever she was, she won’t come back, and that they will make further visits throughout the night. How wrong and somewhat inept they are. It’s not long before the woman returns but this time, she’s inside the property. Who is she? What does she want? And why is she clutching a pair of scissors?
What first grabs you about Inside is the fantastic, eerily effective atmosphere which builds slowly in the first twenty minutes. The subtle use of the excellent score and the general tone of the film is that of a film that feels real, and is all the more successful for it.
When Sarah is eventually confronted by her tormentor, the directors are keen to keep her in the dark via some unsettling shadowy silhouettes and dark lighting, revealing little but keeping the tension high. When we do see her lurking in the background via some excellent camera trickery, the effect is not lost - she is a creepy figure, deep in voice and tall in stature, and dressed entirely in black.
The two actresses are excellent. Dalle, in particular, is one of the creepiest villains we’ve seen in a long time, able to evoke scares through the use of her eyes and voice alone. Likewise, Alysson Paradis does extremely well, spending most of the film covered in blood and trying desperately hard to evade her captor and protect her baby.
To say Inside is extreme is an understatement. It is simply one of the bloodiest films ever made. Limbs are slashed, heads shot, necks stabbed, and faces burned - and that’s just for starters. Is it shocking? Yes, but in today’s world of ever increasing blood and gore perhaps the effect is not as shocking as it would have been ten years ago. Nevertheless, this is not for the squeamish. Just when you think it couldn’t get any worse, the film makers go full throttle in a scene that pregnant women in particular will find difficult to watch.
What separates Inside from other gore heavy horrors is how intense and claustrophobic it all is. Most of the action is contained within one house. As we watch Sarah desperately trying to evade her captor, we too as an audience have no escape. There are no cuts to happier events going on elsewhere. The directors simply refuse to offer any relief.
If there is a problem with Inside, it’s the factor that ultimately makes it so memorable. It spends so much effort into grossing us out that, effective as it is, a bit more psychology and interplay between the two leads would have been welcome.
Inside is a must see for horror fans. Violent, raw, and intense, it’s a superbly made home invasion story with excellent performances from the two lead actresses. GY
Film: The Island
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 112 mins
Director: Pavel Lounguine
Starring: Pyotr Manonov, Viktor Sukhorukov, Dmitry Dyuzhev
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Russia
Not to be confused with the terrible Ewan McGregor/Scarlett Johansson action film released around the same time, The Island comes to our shores with a host of awards from its native Russia, who, at their annual Golden Eagle Awards proclaimed it to be the best Russian film of 2006. A deeply religious film about the nature of faith, forgiveness and one man’s ability for miracles, it’s been praised by the Russian Orthodox Church leader Alexis II as being a wonderful love letter to the church.
The film opens during World War II, where sailor Anatoly and his captain, Tikhon, are apprehended aboard their ship by Nazi Germans. The leading Nazi officer offers the chance for Anatoly to live if he shoots and kills his captain. Begging for his life and trembling with fear, Anatoly reluctantly carries out the act, shooting his captain who falls overboard and into the sea. Moments later the Nazis blow up the ship with Anatoly still on board. The following morning Anatoly is discovered washed up on the shore by a group of Russian Orthodox monks who take him to their island monastery.
Thirty years pass and Anatoly is still living within the monastery, riddled with guilt over the events of the war, often praying in seclusion for forgiveness. With a seemingly miraculous gift (he’s got a knack for healing the sick and predicting the future), local towns people flock to Anatoly for cures or guidance, much to the confusion of the other monks.
A man arrives at the monastery with his possessed daughter. Anatoly performs a form of exorcism on the girl and rescues her soul. The girl’s father, it turns out, is his former captain, alive and well and not dead as Anatoly assumed. Will he be forgiven or will his former captain bear a grudge?
The film’s best moment comes early during the Nazi standoff aboard the ship. Tense and expertly acted, and reminiscent of Great War scenes before it, the scene leads to hopes that the rest of the film will follow in similar fashion, but that isn’t the kind of film The Island strives to be - it has far bigger ideas to contend with.
Director Pavel Lungin has created a contemplative fable within a very isolated atmosphere. He is competent enough behind the camera; it’s what’s in front of it that’s questionable. Set in a misty, snowy, windy island in remote Russia, it’s a film that certainly won’t win any tourism awards. You’ll find yourself often yearning for the sun to come out, and perhaps this is the kind of metaphor Lungin is trying to convey, as Anatoly fights with his inner conscience.
The film unwraps slowly, maybe too slowly, as Anatoly is revealed gently over the course of the two hours. Played remarkably well by ex rock star turned actor Pyotr Mamonov (a real-life orthodox Christian), he is onscreen for almost the entire film, creating a complex character who, despite falling into self-pity, at times, remains on the right side of likeable. He’s certainly a man of contradictions, prankster one minute, fervent worshipper the next, whose devotion is never in doubt. Bearded and gaunt, and always looking in need of a bath, he cuts a pained figure, looking much older than the actor’s 59 years.
Each of the monastery’s monks represents a sin - the human faults and material longings that hinder spiritual redemption - and Anatoly, desperate for forgiveness, challenges them all in his own complex and unique way. He feels forgiven by God, but seems to be struggling to forgive himself, thereby representing the challenge to find his inner peace, something many of us can possibly relate to.
The music complements the film nicely with moving choral singing, which fits perfectly during Anatoly’s spiritual examinations and thoughtful insights.
The Island is perhaps best watched when we are at our worst, or seeking repentance from our own sins. It deals with forgiveness and one man’s quest to find his own, but the film’s lack of colour and lightness of touch will presumably turn off a large portion of the audience. It’s a difficult film to sit through, purely because it’s extremely bleak and mildly depressing in its execution. Those that stay the course, much like Anatoly himself, may feel like taking a long rest afterwards.
The Island wants to be thought provoking, with its religious themes and complex characterisations, but whilst it should be moving, the unrelentingly cold makes it a dreary and tiresome watch. GY
Film: Ip Man
Release date: 26th October 2009
Certificate: 15
Running time: 106 mins
Director: Wilson Yip
Starring: Donnie Yen, Simon Yam, Hiroyuki Ikeuchi, Fan Siu-wong, Xiong Dailin
Genre: Martial Arts/History/Action/Drama
Studio: Cine Asia/Showbox
Format: DVD
Country: Hong Kong
Donnie Yen takes on the role of the man Bruce Lee called “Master”, in an ‘event’ martial arts movie the like of which Hong Kong cinema has not produced in some time. With Yen reuniting with Wilson Yip, will this continue their run of good form after the successes of Kill Zone and Flashpoint?
Ip Man tells the story of its eponymous hero, a 20th century martial arts expert who lived and taught first in Foshan, China, before moving to Hong Kong in 1949. The film chronicles his life up until his departure from China.
During the Second Sino-Japanese War, the righteous Wing Chun master struggles to survive while staying true to his principles of honour, righteousness and loyalty. Largely eschewing taking students, Ip is forced to reconsider as the might of the Japanese grows ever more impressive, and he realises that it sometimes takes more than local folk legend to inspire people…
Hong Kong cinema has, for the best part of a century, made good use of Chinese folk heroes. The most famous is Wong Fei-hung, often referred to as a ‘Chinese Robin Hood’. Over one hundred different movies centre around the, usually heavily fictionalised exploits of the 19th century figure, and the illustrious list of actors to have played him includes such notable names as Kwan Tak-hing, Gordon Liu, Jackie Chan and Jet Li. An extension of martial arts oral history - itself ripe for embellishment and reinvention necessary for cinematic effect - Hong Kong fight films have made similar good use of other such figures as Leung Jan (a 19th century Wing Chun master played by Yuen Biao in The Prodigal Son), ‘Butcher’ Lam Sai-wing (a disciple of Wong Fei-hung memorably portrayed by Sammo Hung in The Magnificent Butcher), and Huo Yuan-jia (whose real-life mysterious death prompted the cinematic vengeance of fictional student Chen Zhen, who has been portrayed on film by Bruce Lee and Jet Li, and on television by Donnie Yen).
Ip Man is perhaps the last of these folk-heroic figures fit for lionisation by Hong Kong cinema, his prime years being just ‘historical’ enough for the filmmakers to take biographical liberties in the name of romanticising the legend, while his proficiency in a fighting style that is infinitely more practical than the flowery, enhanced methods usually depicted in Hong Kong fight movies gives him an appealing contemporary relevance.
Perhaps most notable about Ip Man, the real person, is his association with Bruce Lee, who he took in as an eager teenage martial arts prodigy. Despite the fact that he assigned his day-to-day tuition to one of his senior instructors, rarely does an account of Bruce Lee’s life not include at least one reference to Ip Man (or Yip Man, as he was more commonly referred to until the release of the movie), and the film certainly traded on this in its marketing campaign. As the first major motion picture on this 20th century martial arts master, this big budget and occasionally sumptuous production heralds a mini-avalanche of Ip Man-themed biopics. Ip Man 2 has already been released in Hong Kong, and no less a name than Wong Kar-wai is currently producing a film provisionally titled ‘The Grandmaster’, in which the role of Master Ip will be essayed by none other than Tony Leung Chiu-wai.
It may be that audiences have to wait some time for an authentic depiction of Ip Man the character, Ip Man the life lived, for Wilson Yip’s effort is a distinctly whitewashed affair, playing fast and loose with the subject’s biography. Almost none of the depicted events actually occurred, the film glosses over certain details, such as his opium addiction and membership of the Kuomintang political party - its fierce opposition to the victorious Communists being the real reason Master Ip left China for Hong Kong in 1949.
That said, the film is notable for injecting the folk hero with the odd dash of fallibility, even if this mostly centres around his early favouring of martial arts over his role as husband and father. While a little ham-fisted, moments such as Ip Man ushering away the infant son who just wants to show him his new drawing in order to continue an impromptu training session are some of the more effective dramatic beats, wholly unexpected in an otherwise sanitised biopic.
20th century Hong Kong martial arts cinema was dominated mostly by Wong Fei-hung, and it could well be that the 21st is ruled by Ip Man. But if Hong Kong filmmakers are finding new heroes for their martial arts movies, the same cannot be said of their storytelling and politics. Ip Man, the film, is punctuated with the same sort of almost-uncomfortable nationalism that might alienate foreign audiences. Particularly of note is its depiction of the Japanese, which suggests that local audiences are as keen to see the old Japanese enemy given a cinematic pasting now as they were back in 1972 when Bruce Lee sent a cinema into raptures by telling Japanese baddies that his people were “not sick men.” The rushed-into-production Ip Man 2 is further indicative of this and, without ignoring the suffering of Chinese people during Japanese occupation, one is moved to ponder exactly when Hong Kong filmmakers might stop leaning on this storytelling crutch.
Yip, as a director, brings no personal touch or style to offset this unfortunate jingoism. The second half of the film, set after the Japanese take control of the country, is shot in distinctly saturated colours that give the film an effective look to mirror the characters’ misery, but is simply too obvious a device to truly drive home the awfulness of the Chinese predicament under Japanese rule. Like with his previous Donnie Yen star vehicle, Flashpoint, there is occasionally the sense that there is a unique director contained within the parameters and requirements of a straightforward action film; the odd offbeat quirk - such as Ip Man’s son riding a tricycle through a fight scene to relay a message from ‘Mama’ that ‘Baba’ should start fighting back before everything in the house is shattered - standing out from the otherwise tried-and-trusted scenes and sequences.
But it is an indication of his mostly hands-off, impersonal approach that a viewer is never sure if his directorial choices are always intentional. Consider a sequence in the first fifteen minutes of the film, when a disgruntled martial arts master storms into a restaurant to seek the young urchin who has besmirched his reputation. The ‘blocking’ of this scene - a wide shot, with principal characters in the foreground and extras lined up to fill out the frame behind them - is extremely reminiscent of the directorial style prevalent in Hong Kong films as far back as Bruce Lee’s era, very ‘stage-y’ and with a clear debt to Peking and Cantonese Opera theatrical traditions. Yip shows such technical proficiency in other areas - his editing and montages being generally effective - that it is reasonable to suspect this curious visual is a tribute to the Hong Kong martial arts genre history, which Ip Man continues, but this is undermined by the extremely straightforward script - as earnest a story as you will find, and completely lacking in irony or self-referential commentary.
But where Yip does have success is in the performance of his leading man. Free of the almost narcissistic posturing that characterised his turns in films like Kill Zone, Flashpoint and, especially, Dragon Tiger Gate, Donnie Yen delivers a measured and subdued performance that is completely unexpected. While the non-fighting scenes may not give him much to work with, Yen brings genuine grace and gravitas to a role that would initially seem ill-suited to him. It is a testament to his performance that it is hard to imagine anyone else in the part and, regardless of whether there are better Ip Man films to come, Yen seems destined to become and remain synonymous with the character.
As pleasing as his general performance is, perhaps most impressive is Yen’s command of the Wing Chun fighting style. Having made great strides in incorporating ultra-modern MMA techniques into his recent work, Yen reminds us of his preternatural versatility and athleticism, seeming every inch the Wing Chun master (he reportedly spent nine months in training for the role). Action director Sammo Hung is no stranger to Wing Chun on film, nor Chinese folk heroes - he explored both in the films Warriors Two and The Prodigal Son - but his presentation of the style in this film is on another level to those earlier efforts, his choreography making this most practical and efficient of martial arts cinematically appealing whilst retaining admirable authenticity. Yuen Wo-ping may be Hollywood’s favourite fight director, and Ching Siu-tung the ‘go-to guy’ for operatic wuxia, but Ip Man is a timely reaffirmation of Hung’s place in the annals of Hong Kong film history. The big man definitely still has it.
Something of a missed opportunity. Ip Man is a lush production, with some truly wonderful fight sequences, but it’s a shame that the scriptwriters did not execute their job with the same level of care and meticulousness that Donnie Yen put into what will surely be a career-defining performance. JN
Film: In The Pit
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 85 mins
Director: Juan Carlos Rulfo
Starring: Salvador Enriquez Castillo, Alejandro Moten, Vicencio Martínez Vázquez
Genre: Documentary
Studio: Network
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico
The construction of a road bridge in South America may seem an unlikely topic for a documentary about human interest, but in 2007’s In The Pit, director Juan Carlos Rulfo does exactly that. Rulfo’s film focuses on the colourful workers of Mexico City’s “Second Deck” road bridge, and attempts to extract the drama from the dirt and rubble.
In 2003 work began in Mexico City to build a massive road bridge to relieve the terrible traffic congestion on the roads. The Second Deck was to be the longest bridge in the history of the city.
In The Pit interviews a selection of the construction workers responsible for digging the foundations, fitting the steel girders, and laying the concrete. It is the story of the men who built her, from the bottom up…
Although the film is rooted firmly in the heart of Mexico City, and covers a cross-section of Mexican culture, this isn’t a Mexican story; rather it’s a working man’s story. Anyone who’s ever found themselves trapped in a working environment they resent will be on instant familiar ground with the moans and strife of the Second Deck workers. They refer to it often as “a living hell” – an everyday purgatory to which they have been sent for some sin, real or imagined. In the case of the frightening ‘El Grande’, he relates genially how he lost his temper with his wife and bloodied her lip – and worse. He boasts openly about his Mafia past, and it’s implied that in his current employ he’s paying for previous sins, yet maddeningly the details of how he came to be working on the construction site remain elusive. You get the feeling that Rulfo, rather than wishing to make an intrusive documentary, is more interested in simply pointing the camera and relating events as they unfold. It certainly makes for an organic experience, but – as in the case of ‘El Grande’ – the result is that many questions about the men’s lives are left unanswered.
‘El Grande’ proves to be a pretty unpleasant character, and yet the villain of the piece is definitely not him. As the bridge slowly grows and develops from sub-terraferma pits into towering, shadow-casting obelisks, it becomes a domineering leviathan - a monster of modern engineering. The larger it becomes, the more the little men of its construction are dwarfed, becoming inconsequential. The harder they work, the more it grows, claiming their time, their health, and even their lives. Night-worker Natividad Sántez Montes’s premonitions become increasingly more ominous as the huge construction looms over her, at one point proclaiming: “In each of these main columns, someone’s soul must be laid to rest in order to hold up the bridge. Gotta hunch it could have happened to me.”
Hiding amongst the storytelling, the lewd revelry, the ogling of passing women and the crude bonhomie between the workers are some extraordinary poignant nuggets of philosophy. Whilst on his way to deliver an enormous piece of the bridge to the construction site, driver Agustin bemoans the inefficiencies of his politicians, and the way everyone essentially is just looking out for themselves. The only hope for the future, he declares, is in how the parents of Mexico communicate with their children.
Ever present is the feeling of the chiasmic gulf between the workers and the faceless powers-that-be, who have masterminded the development. The suits at the top of the pile surely see this construction as the way forward in a brave new Mexico city, and we’re left to wonder what thought – if any – they give to the everyday hell their workers endure. In this respect, it’s a completely one-sided tale, but maybe that’s as it should be. Rulfo isn’t preaching; he isn’t pointing out rights and wrongs, more he wants to immerse you in the lives of these men, stuck like so many others in a situation they didn’t choose and getting through it one day at a time.
In the film’s awe-inspiring final shot: a helicopter’s-eye-view of the finished bridge winding its way snake-like through the city, we get some sense of the infinite number of stories behind each of the tiny waving dots of the workers. It’s to Rulfo’s credit, therefore, that he’s managed to construct a coherent, meaningful film out of such a wealth of material - a well-paced story which allows its characters chance to breath and grow, and for us to become slowly immersed in the sweat and grime that is a daily reality for the workers of The Second Deck. It’s stylishly shot, if unfussy. Rulfo’s camera captures the storytellers in an intimate, no-nonsense fashion, but then in the next shot finds moments of beauty and poetry amongst the rubble and concrete. Kudos must also go to the extraordinary soundtrack; a mishmash of industrial noise and electronica, itself as much of a construction as the subject of the film.
In The Pit is a curious insight into the lives of the men and women who everyday broke their backs – and in some cases gave their lives - to build the colossal Second Deck bridge. It draws few conclusions other than life on a building site is hell (wherever you are in the world), and that there are moments of human beauty to be found in the most miserable surroundings. LB
