skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Film: Martyrs
Release date: 25th May 2009
Certificate: 18
Running time: 95 mins
Director: Pascal Laugier
Starring: Morjana Alaoui, Mylène Jampanoï, Catherine Bégin, Robert Toupin, Patricia Tulasne
Genre: Drama/Horror/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France/Canada
Back in 2009, Pascal Laugier’s Martyrs marked the latest in a new wave of horror films coming out of France. Violent in the extreme, and offering a visually graphic depiction of body horror that pushed beyond the boundaries previously set by the likes of Eli Roth’s Hostel, these films took a seemingly redundant subgenre of horror to new heights. As with the previous J-Horror boom sparked by the popular Japanese Ring series, Hollywood soon took notice, with the rights to the film promptly snapped up by the Weinstein Company with a view to a US remake.
Martyrs opens as it means to go on, with a bleak tracking shot of a young girl running bare foot and in tears from a derelict building, bruised and bloodied. This is interspersed with mock news footage revealing that the girl, named Lucie, was discovered there after suffering torture and abuse at the hands of an assailant that remains at large. Laugier clearly wastes no time in setting the tone of the film. This will be anything but easy viewing.
Next we are introduced to Anna, another young girl living in an orphanage, who befriends Lucie. Yet all is not what it seems, with Lucie seemingly menaced by a ‘monster’. Fast forward fifteen years, and a seemingly ordinary family’s life is shattered by the arrival of a gun toting woman that we soon learn is Lucie, who has revenge on her mind...
What unfolds is ninety minutes of some of the most graphic and yet also visually impressive scenes to ever be committed to celluloid. Special mention should obviously go to the effects team, who create realistic scenes of shotgun blasts to the body, knife cuts to limbs, and even flaying in a scene that may prove difficult to watch for many.
The soundtrack offers a sparse accompaniment to the bleak action of the film. Occasional thundering baselines are effectively utilized to build up a sense of dread at key points, in a technique that almost touches on Spielberg’s use of music in the seminal film Jaws.
The main plaudits, though, should go to both director Laugier and his cast, with particular mention to lead stars Morjana Alaoui and Mylene Jampanoi. In other hands, this film may have veered dangerous close to melodrama, but for Jampanoi’s clearly unhinged Lucie, who quickly emerges as the star of the film’s first act. Her character arguably reflects the most tragic aspect of the film, with Jampanoi effectively portraying the internal conflict of Lucie who appears to be quite literally battling the demons of her past.
Alaoui’s Anna, meanwhile, offers the audience a moral compass through the journey of the film. Coming to Lucie’s aid after events unfold at the house, she is the character the audience empathise with most. Like us, she remains unsure of Lucie’s actions, and as the action unfolds, her descent into the true horror of what is happening places us in the front seat of proceedings.
Laugier’s script, meanwhile, criss-crosses horror subgenres to deliver a film that touches on revenge and mystery alongside elements of the more familiar monster horror movie - and, of course, the torture body horror of the modern era. In essence, the director creates a well structured piece that can effectively be broken down into three acts.
In a film that packs a mighty punch within the first ten minutes, it is somewhat impressive that Laugier is able to push the envelope to the very brink from start to finish. Yet in a sense, this is perhaps the biggest problem with Martyrs. Though well executed and original, with an ending that seeks to justify, or at least explain the atrocities witnessed previously, Laugier has crafted a film that can often prove difficult to watch. Scenes of graphic violence are one thing, but the film’s continual focus on the scenes of torture begins to desensitise these atrocities. Towards the end of the film, Alaoui’s Anna is subjected to repeated physical abuse in a scene that draws parallels with Irreversible’s equally disturbing subway attack on Monica Bellucci. Yet in amongst the action of Martyrs, it proves just one of many horrific moments.
Make no mistake, Laugier’s film is a nightmarish vision of the world which effectively retains a disturbing and relentless sense of dread throughout. But the 100 minute running time offers no let up for the viewer, and would surely prove difficult to translate for an American audience. That said, in maintaining a break neck speed and atmosphere of shock throughout, Laugier has achieved more than most mainstream horror directors could dream of. Whether the film’s content is suitable for mainstream audiences, though, remains to be seen.
Well acted and executed by director Pacal Laugier, Martyrs is a landmark film that put French horror on the map. But this is not for the faint of heart, and those watching won’t find any respite from the action on screen. Good, but not something you are likely to want to repeat in a hurry. JB
After all, Mlakic’s novel told the story of a conflict close to the hearts and minds of many in the Balkans. Alternating between Bosnian conflict in 1943 and 1993, the story focused on two very different squadron’s of HVO (Bosnian Croat) and Domobran (defenders of the Croat Independent state) who trod the same path with the same bleak conclusions.
But in truth, fans need not have worried, as Milic’s resulting film delivered a layered and vivid adaptation of the novel. Chief amongst Milic’s achievements is undoubtedly the cinematography of the film, which flits between two clearly defined eras, whilst Filip Sovagovic as HVO soldier Tomo and his grandfather Domobran Martin ties the two eras together with a understated performance that captures the kind of everyman soldier thrust into the horrors of war.
Now, four years on, The Living And The Dead is coming to Western audiences via the medium of DVD. For Milic, this is an undoubted triumph, with the director a keen admirer of classic American cinema and genres as diverse as horror and even the spaghetti western.
But Milic, who started out as a key grip and stage hand in Croatia has always strived to create "something that looks good and sounds good.” Now, four years on from the release of The Living And The Dead, and with everyone a little older and a little wiser, we sat down with the Croatian director to discuss the film…
How was the film received in Bosnia when it was first released?
The local press received it very well; however the audience was pretty divided about it.
Have your feelings about the film changed since its release?
It is very hard for me to be objective. I've heard some extremely bad and good reactions, and it sure doesn't help me to clear my own feelings about it.
The film covers two different eras of conflict in Bosnia. How much research was involved in creating an authentic setting for both conflicts?
As we lived through those rough times, we knew enough about the events from the recent conflicts.
As for the WW2, we grew up hearing the stories of our grandfathers. It was easy to recreate 1993, but we had much more fun with 1943, even when we couldn't be 100% accurate.
As for the guns and uniforms, we managed as much as our limited budget allowed us, and we had to make some compromises.
An important way of contrasting the two different eras appears to have been through the cinematography. How was this achieved?
We used a lot of different ‘tools’ to achieve that. We wanted the old times to look like a western, while the new era was supposed to resemble the Vietnam-war films. Classic film equipment was used for the 1943 part (dollies, cranes); while the 1990s pseudo-documentary style required a hand-held camera and steadicam. Also, 1943 was shot in winter and early spring, while 1993 was shot in late spring and summer. However, the most obvious and effective tool was colour grading.
Where did the idea of Vialli's character come from?
You would have to ask Josip Mlakić (the writer) about that. I just know that he was written after a real soldier who was nicknamed after football player Gianluca Vialli.
I think that Velibor Topic did a great job with that character.
How did you help Filip Sovagovic prepare for the dual roles in the film?
He's extremely talented actor. I did very little, if anything, to help him.
The photography of the film really stands out. How much did the natural setting play a part in this?
It plays a big part. I always liked the contrast between beautiful picture and ugly events on the big screen.
There's a standout moment when one of the rebels realises that the man they killed, Redzo, was someone he had played with in a social club. How important did you feel it was to highlight the sudden divides that the conflict in Bosnia created?
We shot this film in the town with two names: one for Muslims and one for Croats (Gornji Vakuf - Uskoplje). It is literally divided in half by one tiny street. And even now, after almost twenty years, they still don't cross that line if it's not absolutely necessary. Josip Mlakić (the author of the novel and the screenplay) lives in that town.
The film does a good job of capturing Bosnia: the combination of a untouched wilderness marred by death comes across particularly in the graveyard setting. How did you set about deciding on the look?
We generally tried to picture Bosnia as a beautiful place soaked with blood. It was important to have one symbolic place where everybody ended no matter what nation or religion they belong to. This particular graveyard is mixture of Catholic, Orthodox and Muslim insignia. There's no such graveyard in reality.
How important do you think the supernatural elements of the film are?
I prefer the realistic approach, so I tried to keep those elements on the symbolic or subconscious level. But I think that everyone should choose his or her own interpretation.
There seemed to be a real sense of camaraderie and also weariness amongst the men. How did you prepare the actors for filming?
We didn't have much of a preparation. It was guerrilla style from the very beginning. But those guys are really good actors and most of them are friends in real life, so it wasn't hard for them to act as a real buddies. And they were tired and cold for real.
How long did it take to shoot the film? Did you encounter any issues in filming in the naturalistic setting?
We shot it for six weeks, in three different campaigns, over the period of a year-and-a-half. We began shooting in December 2004, and wrapped it up in June 2006. We were shooting very high in the mountains, so some days we had snow and sun changing in a matter of hours. We had to shot more day scenes in winter and more night scenes in summer, so it wasn't a walk in a park but I think it was a worthwhile.
What future projects do you have in the pipeline?
I have a few different projects, but they're all still in a process of finding finances. Meanwhile, I work for television, and make short films for fun. I hope that I'll be shooting my next feature film by the end of this year. JB
Film: The Fish Child
Release date: 17th January 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 96 mins
Director: Lucía Puenzo
Starring: Ines Efron, Mariela Vitale, Carlos Bardem, Diego Velazquez, Pep Munné
Genre: Crime/Drama/Romance/Thriller
Studio: Peccadillo
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina/France/Spain
The writer/director of the synopsis-defying Argentine intersexuality melodrama XXY follows up her directorial debut with this adaptation of her own novel. With Inés Efron returning as another gay protagonist, Puenzo this time treads more traditional ground with her lesbian noir drama, but is the result Argentina’s answer to the Wachowshi brothers’ Bound or a case of a difficult second album depreciating the promise of the first?
We meet Lala already wrapped in an illicit affair with a maid under her parents’ pay. Her inferior in both class and race, the one thing they have in common is their gender, and so these star-crossed lovers spend much of their time together dreaming of finally eloping.
Lala begins to lay the foundation for their escape by stealing many of her wealthy parents’ less noticeable possessions and giving them to her lover to pawn, but when Lala’s father mysteriously dies, the two find themselves with a mountain of evidence against them and no-one willing to listen to their story.
As Lala tries to clear her innocent lover’s name, she finds herself confessing her own sins, and revealing truths neither of them are ready to expose…
Dropping its audience in to the central relationship after many of its most potentially dramatic developments have been and gone (the point where the affluent daughter falls for the family’s serving girl), the film begins with many languid, atmospheric scenes where very little happens, and which are often allowed to go on for some time before immediately cutting to the next uneventful scene.
The incoherent pace leads to a similarly nonsensical plot (not helped by often unreadable subtitles, typically causing problems during the most pivotal scenes), and even the most culturally equipped viewer will spend a large part of the film completely unaware that half of it is actually occurring in flashback (the moment of epiphany where this occurs to the viewer could have actually been a great narrative device, if the director wasn’t clearly blindly assuming everybody was still following).
The often anaemic storytelling leaves the audience adrift for far too long before answering such basic questions as ‘who’s who?’, ‘what are their relationships’ and ‘why should I care?’ A director not in any rush to give the audience too much of a handle on the proceedings can often have interesting, atmospheric results, but when partnered with an expectation that the audience can then leap head-long in to a complex narrative with nobody to latch on to, it makes the end product too confusing, and ultimately exasperates.
The Fish Child disappoints because it actually shows plenty of promise. After the false-start in establishing the dramatic situation, there unravels a solid ‘princess and the pauper’ doomed romance, where the latter member of that equation finds themselves tugged in several directions, and often exploited by the family she serves. The tender romance slowly shifts to unearth a sadistically dark underbelly, and, in the process, there are several standout scenes when the film finds a firm foot-hold in the story long enough to tell it (one such scene being surprisingly supernatural appearance of the titular child). The problem is that while the words ‘Lesbian Noir Thriller’ roll so easily off the tongue, Puenzo only scores two out of three in this film as, while the film begins by moving too quickly for anyone to keep up, it then settles in to a leisurely tempo, and provides plot twists too predictable to be genuinely ‘thrilling’.
There’s plenty of intrigue in this film for it to be of interest, and while it often fails to deliver on its promises, Lucía Puenzo is not on the list of Argentine directors you’d be wise to ignore. But given her impressive prior work, The Fish Child represents an overall disappointing work from an artist we’ve been given reason to expect more from. JB
Film: Bang Rajan
Release date: 28th February 2005
Certificate: 15
Running time: 114 mins
Director: Tanit Jitnukul
Starring: Jaran Ngamdee, Winai Kraibutr, Theerayut Pratyabamrung, Bin Bunluerit, Bongkoj Khongmalai
Genre: Action/Drama/History/War
Studio: E1
Format: DVD
Country: Thailand
Historical epics could be considered the respectable face of action movies. The deeper the roots in historical events, the less they can be dismissed as just another excuse for bloody fight scenes. Bang Rajan boasts a budget four times that of the average Thai film, but when that figure still compares unfavourably to Hollywood’s more modest output, it begs the question: can this little epic mirror its David and Goliath subject matter?
In 18th century Siam, the mighty Burmese army marches on the country’s capital of Ayutthaya. Only the small village of Bang Rajan stands between them and complete military victory, and yet the indomitable villagers of this small hamlet defy the odds by rising up to stop the invaders in their tracks.
Aided by the forces of a mysterious moustachioed veteran, the town drunk and his enlisted water buffalo, the locals make a valiant final stand for their country in this historically-based war epic…
Tribal warriors running around speaking in a foreign-language and participating in gritty fight sequences are a staple of the Hollywood epic diet. The Last Of The Mohicans and Apocalypto are two notable standards of this particular sub-genre – but these are films represented by Western stars, either in-front or behind the camera, telling the story of someone else’s ancestors. Bang Rajan’s greatest appeal is in the authenticity of its mission statement. Sure, the writing and acting compete furiously to be the weakest element, but, rather than undermining the film, they stand as a testament to the genuine grass-roots level of the production. This is a film from a country with less than prolific cinematic output attempting to tell a story so grand that by rights they have no place taking on - just like the film’s heroes, they seem unable to recognise a losing battle when they see it.
To its credit, the action is impressively proficient, and the bloody battles are spectacularly visceral in their execution. Even when the numbers begin to swell, the direction remains sharp and controlled, and there is some ingenious camerawork, in what could easily have descended into just another jungle brawl. While violent, there is also an element of humour injected into the proceedings, and not only in unintentional doses of overacting from some of the supporting roles. When the hero, Nai Chan Nuad Kheo, and his fantastic facial hair make an appearance, the film really hits a peak, and it’s so endearing given the film’s unassuming development.
That said, Bang Rajan struggles to find a clear balance between its lofty historical aspirations and the lowest common-denominator combination of aggression and comedy. The plot never rises above the obvious and the film treads a confused ground between being too standard in its production for the art house audience, yet with too many idiosyncrasies to appeal on popular release – no doubt the success of Eastern epics such as Hero, alongside those aforementioned blockbusters, has allowed this one to sneak through into the UK marketplace.
The underdog, rag-tag band of peasant warriors is a story well-trodden both in the East and the West, and having been served in every flavour from 300 to Seven Samurai (then re-served as The Magnificent Seven), it’s quite refreshing to see the story being retold not so much from a new approach but rather from an old one, re-imagined through fresh-eyes too inexperienced to feel the need to include any twist or irony to the proceedings. The result is naively sincere, and all the more enjoyable for it.
Be aware, there is nothing new to see here. But if you’re open to watching a film that seems to discover every classic cliché as if for the first time, the experience is gleefully rewarding. JB
Film: Caramel
Release date: 8th September 2008
Certificate: PG
Running time: 92 mins
Director: Nadine Labaki
Starring: Nadine Labaki, Yasmine Al Masri, Joanna Mouzarkel, Gisele Aouad, Adel Karam
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Romance
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD
Country: France/Lebanon
When a foreign film manages to make that break across the border and garner international success there’s often the expectation that it should act as an ambassador for its country of origin, especially when that nation is not known for its prolific cinematic output. But where does that leave Nadine Labaki’s Lebanese romance Caramel? Can any film successfully walk that balance between the light-hearted and the weighty?
For a beauty salon, Si Bette isn’t much to look at. A ramshackle salon in the city of Beirut which requires the use of a second generator if anyone wants to use a blow-dryer while the fridge is on, but it provides a living, a support-group, not to mention a hive of gossip for four hairdressers who are trying to deal with the expectations that come with being an unmarried woman in modern-day Beirut.
Layale (played by the film’s director, Nadine Labaki) is having an affair with a married man, and is struggling not only with the prerequisite guilt of her situation but also with the practicalities of doing so in a city that requires proof of marriage to book a hotel double-bedroom, and whose police deems a man and woman sitting in a car ‘indecent behaviour’.
Her friend, Nisrine has the opposite problem; engaged to the son of a traditional Muslim family, she carries a secret that prevents her from being the pure daughter-in-law she is expected to be. Meanwhile, divorcée mother of two teenage children Jamale continues to pursue an acting career despite her increasing years, betraying the contrast between her and her competition; and quiet tom-boy Rima finds herself catching the eye of an attractive, female client.
These four women are not the only ones in town with troubles, however, as a supporting cast of clients and acquaintances orbit around them, pulled in by the gravity of their little salon. The local parking attendant smitten with Layale, the lonely elderly seamstress with a rare chance for romance, and her senile sister whose penchant for collecting parking tickets are equally as vital are all weaved into the rich mix that is Caramel...
It’s this sense of community that really stands out in Labaki’s film. This is not a film about Beirut. As one might assume from the aforementioned plot points, many of the situations are arguably culturally exclusive to its location, but it’s to the film’s credit that it reaches below the surface and pulls at the strings of far more universal themes of loneliness and the pressure of others. It matters not whether Nisrine is sitting at a table full of Lebanese Muslims or East Finchley Catholics, her discomfort is all too familiar, and it’s not difficult to imagine changing a few cultural touch-stones to find an above-par western rom com with the same narrative still completely in tact.
Caramel is a film about people rather than place, and therefore it’s through the central performances that the world really comes to life. The vibrant, lived-in atmosphere can be largely credited to the four leads, who balance often exaggerated comic turns with genuine notes of pathos in their respective situations. The balance is not always perfect, as sometimes a trivial subplot clashes jarringly with a profound emotional moment, but this is only to be expected from a film that clearly never sets out to ‘tackle’ anything. This is the story of four (or more) romantics who have been unlucky in love and yet keep trying, and so the film’s tone fittingly takes on the feel of the eponymous burnt sugar the girls use in their waxing. Sweet without being saccharine, the film plays out through the gold-tinted glasses of those looking for love. It is not the main meal. It is not the balanced diet of historical context and cultural resonance that are the meat and potatoes of films that want to be ‘about’ something. You won’t fill up on it, but neither is it the sickly sweet imitation product of Hollywood’s own brand.
It’s Labaki’s deliciously sepia cinematography that elevates what could be a trivial narrative. Her film is beautifully shot and allows the narrative to play out in a surprisingly subtle and nuanced manner given the extravagant performances. Every character is awarded the appropriate respect and time of day given that, for them, they are the star of their own classic tale of romance. Invoking other genre stand-bys such as Steel Magnolias, and the other similarly-titled western-friendly offering Chocolat, Caramel is an ensemble piece that genuinely cares about each of its individual components. Its only possible failing being that Labaki sometimes awards herself more than her fair share of screen time – clearly even she feels she is the star of her story.
Caramel may flirt with the anachronistic studio-era concept of being a ‘woman’s picture’ but when the only current offering for strong female leads in cinemas sees entire platoons of the Boots ‘here come the girls’ set marching blindly into cinemas to watch four over-paid harridans bemoaning the lack of haute couture in Abu Dhabi there has never been a better time to discover the mature and believable view of romance purported by Caramel. Who says rom coms have to be dumb screen fodder? JB
Film: Battle Royale II: Requiem
Release date: 23rd August 2004
Certificate: 18
Running time: 133 mins
Director: Kenta Fukasaku & Kinji Fukasaku
Starring: Tatsuya Fujiwara, Ai Maeda, Shûgo Oshinari, Ayana Sakai, Haruka Suenaga
Genre: Action/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
The original Battle Royale courted critical acclaim and controversy in equal measure. Kinji Fukasaku filmed only one scene for the sequel before succumbing to prostate cancer, leaving the writer of both films, Kenta Fukasaku, to complete it. Kenta says that he doesn’t consider the film his directorial debut but rather as his father’s final work, but is this an epitaph Fukasaku senior would be proud of?
Much like its predecessor, Battle Royale II begins with an unsuspecting class of unruly Japanese youths finding themselves fitted with ominous metal collars and standing at the starting line of a sadistic government initiative. This time is different, however, as where as the original combined public execution with a reality TV show, the new game (aptly named ‘BR2’) has been formulated to send the classmates to dethrone the dangerous terrorist and champion of the previous film, Shuya Nanahara. If they accept, they will have to assault a heavily-guarded island stronghold. If they refuse, they die…
The vicious beauty of Battle Royale was always in the tragicomic potential of its ultra high-concept, and in trading the free-for-all death match for a more strategic co-op dynamic, the film retains the appeal of having a conceit with a more clearly established playbook than your average videogame. Indeed, the Cluedo-like elements of individual character’s back stories, unique weapons and respective locations, is largely traded for a homogenous, Normandy-landing of panicked teenagers, but the deliciously vindictive new maxim that each combatant must also keep a particular classmate alive or face execution adds a fresh level of cruelty to the proceedings. A nice dark addition to the narrative is the voluntary participation of Shiori Kitano, the vengeful daughter of the teacher from previous film, allowing for a welcome cameo by Beat Takeshi.
Battle Royale’s ‘games’ have always been as psychotically intricate as anything Saw’s eponymous anti-hero could devise, but whereas the latter film’s strength is in the way it neatly ties up the various hideous loose-ends, Battle Royale II shamefully falls apart in the third act. Resulting from a plot development that removes any impetus to follow the rules of the game that traditionally underpin Battle Royale, the film flounders as it finds itself entering the territory of a misdirected war epic. Add to that a poor translation, an intrusive musical score, a teacher that unimaginatively apes Kitano’s original unhinged master-of-ceremonies, a playing time that stretches a solid ninety minute concept beyond the two hour line, not to mention the wide-eyed, melodramatic death-scenes of forty-two participants, and what could have been a fiercely delivered addendum to Kinji Fukasaku’s original political message actually starts to make a student’s head exploding feel routine.
“We declare war against all grown-ups,” declares Shuya Nanahara, and therein lies where BR2 loses its way. At the age of 15, Kinji Fukasaku and his classmates were drafted to a Japanese munitions factory when artillery fire hit the building, forcing Kinji and his fellow survivors to use the bodies of their classmates for shelter and leaving him with what he described as “a poisonous hostility towards adults.” It’s fair to say then that the apparently naïve declaration of Kenta’s protagonist are very much in line with his father’s world-view, but it leaves the motivation of the film’s latter half in very murky water.
The original’s UK release was three days after September 11th, and so it’s fitting that the sequel attempts to tackle this newest atrocity through the same challenging role-reversal - beginning the film with the collapse of a Japanese skyline and the previous film’s hero taking credit for the act of terror in manner not unlike Osama Bin Laden. Maturing from the subject of how the delinquency of youth leads to greater evils performed by authority in the name of justice, the sequel builds on this, tackling how marginalization can only lead to more radicalization, but while Kenta is evidently not afraid to invoke the USA’s bombing of Afghanistan, Japan and – as it observes - twenty other countries in the last sixty years, he lacks the strength of his convictions, failing to explain what exactly Nanahara is trying to achieve, why we should empathise with him any more than the next fundamentalist, and even, at one point, who exactly is attacking, as they resort to calling both the USA and Afghanistan “that country.”
Too ambitious by half, Battle Royale II attempts to tackle sixty years of America’s foreign policy in what is ostensibly still just an old-school exploitation flick. Starting off strong, the first hour is classic Battle Royale but it would be easy to then skip forty minutes and miss very little. Kinji deserved better. JB
