SPECIAL FEATURE: DVD Review: Triple Dog

Film: Triple Dog
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 23rd May 2011
Distributor: High Fliers
Certificate: 15
Running time: 92 mins
Director: Pascal Franchot
Starring: Brittany Robertson, Alexia Fast, Scout Taylor-Compton, Janel Parrish, Emily Tennant
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Canada
Language: English

Review by: Robyn Simmons

An array of high school stereotypes are brought together for a birthday celebration they won’t forget. Pascal Franchot’s girlie comedy sees a juvenile party game go a step too far, and take a revealing turn for the truth in this teenage whodunit.

The pink-obsessed popular girls of school are joined by the obligatory goth girl and led astray by the head-strong skater when newcomer Eve turns sweet 16. Pushed together by their Stepford-mothers, they’re left to entertain themselves. Content with talking about boys and playing with nail varnish, they are soon shaken up by the arrival of Chapin on her trusty board.

Introducing the girls to Triple Dog, a version of truth or dare with the added threat of hair clippers, flashbacks ensue that build up character profiles and narrative. Via these glimpses of prior events, viewers are enlightened and characters reminded of accusing evidence that suggests an answer to their school’s darkest secret: why did Stacey St Clare jump?


At least, that is presumably the intention. Whether Franchot achieves this in his second feature length effort is another matter, as plot gives way to trivial antics and cheap laughs. Perhaps his chosen genre and audience unavoidably limits character and story development, but they seem to have slipped from his priorities completely. Admittedly, a story centred around a group of friends is character-led, but apparently that doesn’t make it character-driven, and the cast are hardly satisfying. The only girl with a bit of spunk, Chapin, turns out to be an unbearably irritating rebel without a cause. She lives to make life a laughing stock for everyone else, and her “spunk” is in fact just bad attitude. As for her friends, if they did the Macarena naked, no-one would notice. Some of their dares aren’t far off this, but it’s hard to imagine such sheltered girls actually pulling them off in reality.

Audiences are likely to be frustrated by a lack of protagonist. Several possibilities are thrown up by the troupe, but a central point of view is the only thing in Triple Dog that is not made blindingly obvious. With no-one to lead this superficial journey and no-one to share perspective or insight with, there is no safety net that viewers can fall back on, no reliable focal character for viewers to identify with. It is therefore difficult to actually care about any of the girls, much less get involved in the story. After all, who are viewers meant to be rooting for, and why?

Absurdly given a 15 certificate, Franchot has missed out on a captive teenage audience: how many 14 year olds these days haven’t heard about third-base? With the script’s immature humour, and flat character and plot development, one can’t help but get the feeling that Franchot was aiming strictly at pre-teens, or at least one hopes so, for that is the only way to justify Triple Dog.

Schoolchildren probably will relate to the clichés of school life, or enjoy pretending that they do. If they don’t know someone like Eve, Chapin or Liza, then they’ll have seen them in countless other films. And, let’s face it, which school doesn’t have the preps, the skaters and the token loner goth? In terms of setting, too, Franchot may have succeeded in engaging an audience younger than 15. The school corridor, the family home, and the house party are all standard environments that young viewers will recognise from their own lives. With such familiar settings comes familiar situations, like the older brother and his smelly friends, and the locker conversations between lessons. Adults are, of course, kept to a minimum, and when they do crop up, they are naturally flimsy figures of authority to be flouted and laughed at. No doubt this will delight and enthral youngsters.

Also for the pre-teen viewer there is a collection of scenes that sees Franchot interact with them on a level that is almost meaningful. Eve’s home situation isn’t as perfect as her two-point-four upbringing would imply. Although far from original, tensions between her and her father are likely to touch many viewers. Her passive resignation to her lack of power over her circumstances is moving in its transparent way. Similarly, the all-American (or should that be Canadian?) house party provides viewers with a window of either escapism or identification. Booze, peer pressure and the opposite sex makes a recipe for teenage anxiety, and this is only made worse for the characters by the omnipresence of Triple Dog. Viewers can’t help but sympathise with the naïve girls and their discomfort, although it would have been nice if Franchot had made more of it. Instead, characters comply all too quickly, and Eve’s transformation from pure innocence to lusty predator is beyond belief.


Triple Dog is ideal for little girls who want to be teenagers; but not for the market that its 15 certificate restricts it to. What would be considered weaknesses to older viewers would be happily acceptable to pre-pubescent girls, and would in fact strengthen the film. As it is, Triple Dog is yet another forgettable high school movie lost in the depths of teen cinema. RS

REVIEW: DVD Release: Time Traveller - The Girl Who Leapt Through Time

Film: Time Traveller - The Girl Who Leapt Through Time
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 2nd May 2011
Distributor: Manga
Certificate: 12
Running time: 122 mins
Director: Masaaki Taniguchi
Starring: Riisa Naka, Akinobu Nakao, Narumi Yasuda, Masanobu Katsumura, Kanji Ishimaru
Genre: Adventure/Drama/Romance/Sci-Fi
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese

Review by: Robyn Simmons

Time Traveller may be cinema’s fourth adaptation of Yasutaka Tsutsui’s novel, but it’s a first for Taniguchi. Strategically released in Britain just as the first English-language translation hits the bookshelves, the director’s debut sees a 21st century girl experience 1970s life. With a story that is doubtlessly familiar to many Japanese film and literature fans, was it really necessary for Taniguchi to send another teen back in time?

Akari (Riisa Naka) has just graduated from the same school that her mother, Dr Kazuko Yoshiyana (Narumi Yasuda), works at. Kazuko is a workaholic lab technician whose effort and experimenting pays off when she makes an astounding discovery; a potion that allows its drinker to cheat time. Before she can do anything about it, though, the single mum is knocked unconscious by a car.

Prior to the accident, she was given an old photograph from her student days; a picture of her and a boy called Kazuo and when, on the day of Akari’s 18th birthday, Kazuko awakens, he is the one thing on her mind. Inevitably, she has to see him again. Here lies Akari’s mission, but searching an entire country clearly isn’t problematic enough, she must search time as well because Dr Yoshiyana hasn’t seen Kazuo for over thirty years. Learning of her mother’s rather accidental invention, Akira is directed to the solution that will make her mammoth task possible.

Understandably, when she faithfully follows her instruction and finds herself in 1974, she is frantic; she has nowhere to live and no-one to turn to. Desperately opting for honesty with the first person she sees, she makes the acquaintance of dashing young filmmaker Ryota (Akinobu Nakao). Finally swayed by her amazing futuristic mobile phone, he relents and offers her a base at his student house where she does her best to fit in. As if overcoming a few decades difference isn’t traumatic enough, bumping into her relatives as teenagers leads to interesting situations; some more amusing than others. Managing to befriend her young mother (Kanji Ishimaru), Akira even gets the chance to observe the rise and fall of the relationship that resulted in her own existence. As she settles into a new life, her focus slips from the task at hand, especially since Kazuko proves so elusive and Ryota becomes more distracting than she anticipated…


The original story appeared as seven instalments during 1965 and 1966 in a student magazine, and with the help of his cast and writer, Tomoe Kanno, Taniguchi captures that youth market. The drama, angst, and gentle humour will go down immensely well with adolescent girls, although anyone else may be left rolling their eyes. To the typical teen, in fact, the entire story is likely to be highly engaging. With identifiable characters in familiar, emotion-packed situations, Time Traveller will satiate its target audience on plenty of levels.

Slick and seamlessly put together, Taniguchi’s first film has mainstream appeal that will suit the masses entirely. Admirably, the director and his team have achieved a commercial aesthetic that makes the adventure all the easier to watch. Sentimental reflection is made totally accessible and the editing team even get in some believable futuristic technologies. Whereas, given the science-fiction plot, Taniguchi could have made excessive demands of his special effects department - perhaps explaining the animated version of 1996 - he considerately spares them and the viewer an overwhelming visual explosion.

Instead, director and writer dwell on budget-friendly, thought-provoking affairs of the heart. By prioritising the universal themes of tears, tragedy and romance, they communicates an understanding of adolescent life that teen viewers will certainly empathise with, unfortunately at the sacrifice of the central idea.

The real story has nothing to do with locating Kuzuo, and the boy in the photograph fades into a ghost of a memory - and plot. Absent-mindedly overlooking the primary purpose of Akira’s adventure until the final forty minutes or so, the duo then make hurried attempts to cram in a conclusion. This awkward arrangement jars the audience and results in a prolonged climax that simply seems incidental and irrelevant. Adolescents may be fooled into thinking this is a mind-bendingly unique feat and Taniguchi may well impress his chosen market. His exploration of Tsutsui’s ideas adds additional layers which just might interest a more mature audience, too, but those looking for a challenge will not find it here.

Challenging or not, Taniguchi’s extracurricular studies surely suggest a budding director full of initiative. The unbalanced pace of Time Traveller demonstrates that although he has allowed himself to be side-tracked, at least it was by his own musings. To the less sympathetic, this is a frustrating fault demonstrating an unjustified weakness in consistency. Considering this is Taniguchi’s first, however, the more tolerant could forgive this.


Whether the latest rehash of Tsutsui’s story is necessary is simple: yes. It is necessary in order for Taniguchi to establish his bubbling potential, and it is a worthy addition to the teen movie market. With an endearing debut like Time Traveller, Taniguchi proves himself as an innovative director on the cusp of a lucrative career, but his film is more than that: it is a carefully crafted, albeit flawed effort which simply needed a stronger structure. RS

REVIEW: DVD Release: The Grim Reaper

Film: The Grim Reaper
Year of production: 1962
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Distributor: Mr. Bongo
Certificate: 15
Running time: 88 mins
Director: Bernardo Bertolucci
Starring: Francesco Ruiu, Giancarlo De Rosa, Vincenzo Ciccora, Alfredo Leggi, Gabriella Giorgelli
Genre: Drama/Mystery
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Italy
Language: Italian

Marlon Brando; Henry Fonda; Sergio Leone. China, Hollywood and, of course, Italy. Bernardo Bertolucci has certainly settled into the film industry with fluid ease, and with titles like Once Upon A Time In The West and Last Tango In Paris to his name it’s no wonder that he has survived four decades in the business. But mighty oaks grow from humble acorns and The Grim Reaper is that very acorn.

Based on a story by Italian artisan Pier Paolo Pasolini, Bertolucci’s writing and directorial debut is a straight forward whodunit. Made during his salad years, the 22-year-old filmmaker stuck to what he knew: the youth of Rome during the swinging ‘60s. The criminal youth of Rome during the swinging ‘60s, that is.

Bertolucci wastes no time getting the facts straight and introducing the murder mystery, getting the plot underway before the credits even make the screen. Led by a faceless officer, an investigation is triggered by the discovery of a prostitute’s body near Tiber River, placing a number of suspects in the spotlight.

Each candidate attempts to clear his name by giving an account of his afternoon’s activities on that fateful previous day. Ranging from whiney, good for nothing teens to renowned offenders, to naïve friends pursuing nothing but romance and a family of their own, a plethora of characters take to the stage. They each make their case, dividing the film into multiple mini sagas that break the film into bite size chunks: the one thing that unites them all is, of course, their presence at the crime scene - and their distinct ‘approach’ to women...


Plot, surprisingly, is mercifully unfussy and quickly established: commendably, time management seems to be one of Bertolucci’s strong points. Exactly why he adopts this tactic, though, is anyone’s guess. To put it bluntly, interest, excitement and engagement don’t exactly fight for the viewer’s attention in Berotlucci and Pasolini’s slow script. What began as a pleasing time saver results in a drawn out, uninspiring investigation that is largely unchallenging and lacklustre. Having made such an efficient job on the narrative, viewers might expect a little more substance from the duo.

In such circumstances, the audience may turn to the characters for a little stimulation and The Grim Reaper surely delivers a wide choice. The problem is that’s all it delivers. Depth and development; insight and expansion - these are all sadly nonentities and, in short, quality has been sacrificed for quantity. No doubt the story would not work without such a range, but viewing doesn’t work because of it. There are too many characters fragmenting the film’s structure, robbing each individual of the time accumulated from plot simplicity - valuable time which could have allowed growth and engagement. Nevertheless, each man is credibly given their own personality, albeit brief and slightly rushed, with a dependence on old ideas. The shifty convict, the innocent youngsters, the solitary soldier, the trouble-maker: if not convincing, they are, at least, identifiable. After all, such a courageously plentiful cast would be demanding of the most experienced of directors, so perhaps viewers may be sympathetic to Bertolucci’s bold move.

The absence of a protagonist, then, is forgivable. Maybe viewers should look a little deeper for value: what is Bertolucci trying to say? Themes, implications, innovative statements - they must be hidden in there somewhere. Alas, if they are, they are hidden well, dominated by the easy story. The collaborative script leaves little to the imagination, although it must be admitted that this is a refreshing change in alternative cinema and makes for accessible viewing. In fact, one might think that this lends itself to a broad reception, open to the mainstream audiences that the director has since gone on to impress. This is not the case. What it offers audiences is so sparse that most viewers - stirred perhaps by Bertolucci’s blockbusters to dig a little deeper into his back catalogue - are likely to be left unfulfilled. Curiosity may be stoked in terms of research, but for its own merit, The Grim Reaper is nothing more than a dull, overwhelmingly mediocre detective story.


Ultimately, for all its minimalism, Bertolucci’s debut may best have been left to its literature roots. Undeniably, this mere acorn is a more than admirable first effort and there are many aspiring directors out there who could learn a lot from it before planting their very own budding oak; in fact, there are many more experienced directors who could learn from it, too. It’s just a shame that Bertolucci’s talents were not based on something more provoking. As it is, with no hero to relate to, no plot to be pondered and no meaning to be uncovered, it is difficult to care just who did do it. RS

SPECIAL FEATURE: DVD Review: Rubber

Film: Rubber
Release date: 11th April 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 82 mins
Director: Quentin Dupieux
Starring: Stephen Spinella, Jack Plotnick, Wings Hauser, Roxane Mesquida, Ethan Cohn
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Horror
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France

This is an English-language release.

Who said you need an entire car to make a road movie? Quentin Dupieux certainly doesn’t in Rubber, a road movie like no other. Yes, it’s spattered with Cronenberg-style exploding heads; yes, the hero is a desert-dwelling Oliver Stone-cum-Tarantino killer…but he is also a tyre. And, yes, that tyre is undoubtedly male.

Rubber is a Natural Born Killers-esque creation set in an unnamed American desert with an English speaking, American accented cast.

Observed by a peculiar group of unexplained onlookers, a psychokinetic tyre embarks on a killing spree. Through the safety of binoculars, his spectators watch the bloody adventure unfold from a remote rocky precipice, under the impression that they are watching a film. Unaffected, therefore, by the unlikely deaths that they witness, the question of whether or not it is ‘just a movie’ that they are watching is up to the audience to decide.

As the greasy murderer unleashes his powers, he takes on an identity that any filmic psycho would be proud of. Viewers on both sides of the screen respond as they would to most anti-heroes and it always comes as an amusing surprise to be reminded that this tyre shouldn’t even be moving on its own, much less taking a shower or fixating on women. So convincingly does ‘Robert’, as credited at the end, ‘perform’, that his character actually causes offence when he silently rolls away from a 16-year-old boy’s warning about the police.

As human as he might seem, conversation is not his strong point. Cunning, however, he is, and the smug assassin is already one step - or roll - ahead of the bumbling team on his track. Their botched tyre hunt actually results in a feeble attempt to trick the criminal - and this is when every single person who has ever watched a film is given a voice. Perhaps it is this brutally honest voice that is the true hero of the tale, for this scene alone makes Rubber worth watching...


Rubber is a film dedicated to nothing and the opening monologue boastfully embraces that fact. Dupieux celebrates “no reason,” and by establishing this with considerable aggression right from the start, viewers’ minds are wonderfully liberated. Finally, they are given permission to not only admit, but bask in the knowledge that there is no reason for this film: there is no pressure to enjoy it or to seek esoteric messages. This is why Rubber is so enjoyable.

So, rather paradoxically, by bringing this to the forefront of the viewing mind, Dupieux’s third venture has yielded one of the most revealing films made about its industry. It makes a laughing-stock of indie filmmakers and parodies Hollywood so effectively that it is impossible not to agree with everything his characters proclaim. Audience interaction is an understatement - audience mind-reading is more accurate, for most members have become so accustomed to film viewing that they can’t even identify the feelings of frustration that Dupieux articulates so well. Rubber does this for them.

Both sides of the film industry come under the director’s comical attack. Everyone’s had a go at Hollywood and Dupieux couldn’t get away with not doing likewise. The tyre’s character development is so typical of commercial cinema that the film proves that even an inanimate object can fill an overpaid American’s shoes. Story-wise, it is flawlessly simple: ridiculously transparent and utterly unoriginal. That is, of course, the point (not that anything has a point, remember). Aesthetically, it is mainstream right through to the inner tube, and the production values look as high as any blockbuster: clean shots of razor sharp imagery are seamlessly edited together so that Rubber is effortless to watch. But the other side of the coin is subject to equal ridicule in a commendably brave and rare move on Dupieux’s part. The audience is allowed to mock experimental filmmakers and arrogant auteurs, and, in all honesty, who hasn’t done that privately? Rubber proudly unleashes that dirty secret for all to openly agree with.

To a slightly lesser extent, viewers are also invited to question the line between fiction and reality, and it’s a shame that Dupieux doesn’t keep this consistent throughout - but then that might make the film far too purposeful. Instead, he opts to take his audience on an utterly surreal, rather Buñel-inspired trip through what may or may not be a movie…and viewers really are taken on this fantastic journey because he has made a film well and truly from their perspective.


Devoted, therefore, not only to nothingness, but to the film viewers themselves, Rubber is striking in its originality, which is comical in its unoriginality and hugely satisfying in its candour. Ironically, it is in fact one of the most meaningful, yet enjoyable films on the market. Easy to watch, easy to ‘get’ and easy to enthuse about - it is also impossible to forget. RS

SPECIAL FEATURE: DVD Review: Savage

Film: Savage
Release date: 14th March 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Brendan Muldowney
Starring: Darren Healy, Nora-Jane Noone, Ryan Andrews, Karl Argue, Marisa Armstrong
Genre: Crime/Drama/Thriller
Studio: High Fliers
Format: DVD
Country: Republic of Ireland

This is an English-language release.

Savage is fear, control and anger and savage is one man‘s pursuit of these. Savage are the streets of Ireland, but savage revenge is bloody sweet. One man, subject to all of these, is on a quest to rediscover identity and masculinity in this unconventional coming-of-age story.

Paul (Healy) is a comfortably settled bachelor, content with his photo-journalist career but concerned for his ill father. Work currently sees him join the media frenzy around the latest crime that has disturbed his city and he joins his fellow press minions at the honey pot of misfortune - in more ways than one.

When he convinces love-interest Michelle, his father’s nurse, to accompany him for a drink one Friday night, everything runs smoothly. Following a successful date, he walks across town on his way home, dodging the alcohol-fuelled hedonism and chaos of a typical inner-city night, allowing Muldowney and his cinematographers to extinguish any flame that viewers might hold for the Emerald Isles. Approached by two thugs, he is promptly dragged down the oft-used dark alley, where his knife-wielding assailants carry out their brutal wishes. When he suffers the indignity and torture of the trade-mark castration that has shocked Ireland, it is an ironic twist of fate that he has fallen victim to the infamous criminals funding his career.

From this point on, Savage essentially tracks his recovery and little more in terms of story. But so much does happen, for self-discovery is no walk in the park. Dictated by the four principles of fear, control, anger and revenge, Paul fights his way to masculinity without a scrap of sentimentality or pity. Plot is structured stage by stage according to each of the four phases that he experiences, each chapter illustrating its purpose completely…


Paul’s journey is in fact refreshingly realistic, almost factual in its presentation. It makes the hero human, but not romantically so. Muldowney doesn’t omit emotion; far from it, for what could be more harrowing for a man than to have his masculinity literally stripped from him? But the way in which such immense feelings are dealt with by the director and his cast is far removed from romanticism. Paul’s sexuality is not just stripped physically, but mentally as well, ¬and Muldowney shares his character’s psychological strain rather than that of the heart.

The transformation of Paul is mind-blowing. From a quirky and slightly aloof protagonist, he utterly loses all composure. Muldowney’s self-penned script provocatively betrays the depth of the photographer’s anxiety, both to the viewer and victim. Take a trip to the local shop, for example: utterly feminised, he has resorted to carrying an alarm, and, upon being startled by an old man, he is compelled to use it, much to the amusement of the teen gang lurking on the street. Outraged and humiliated by the mass of nerves that he has become, Paul’s consequent search for control is utterly understandable. But viewers are invited to ask how far is too far?

Savage, unsurprisingly, is a character-based film, and a single character at that. The responsibility placed on Healy is huge; he has an entire script to pull off, virtually appearing in every scene. Yet he never falters; he is consistently Paul, a powerfully convincing casualty of crime, a man simply trying to find his identity on a mission that could never really be that simple at all. It is impossible for viewers not to form a relationship with him, for the gifted Healy makes him such a believably empathetic character. Bringing authenticity to an already innovative script, it’s not just the extreme development of his role that Healy masters, but the little subtleties of expression, of instinct, that truly engages the audience.

Muldowney himself seems to altruistically fade into obscurity; which is not the same as failing at his job. Entirely to the contrary, his invisibility lends him an impressive omnipresence that makes itself known through the very seamlessness of his film. Savage is stylised, but not jarringly so; it is polished but not glossed. Astoundingly, this is just his second feature film, but the emerging director fulfils his duty so well that Savage could easily be the work of a much more experienced creator. Triumphantly overcoming the barrier between production and consumption, he lures audiences into his cinematic world, which isn’t so far from the real one; viewers will forget that they are watching a film, so absorbing and accessible is the final product.


Savage is a satisfying film that utilises all of the cast and crew’s capabilities without excluding the viewer. Little wonder that 2010 saw Healy and Muldowney go head to head at the Irish Film and Television Awards for Rising Star. Gritty setting, bursts of shocking violence and its head-over-heart slant makes Savage a creditable chick-flick for boys that girls can enjoy, too. RS

REVIEW: DVD Release: Songs From The Second Floor

Film: Songs From The Second Floor
Release date: 21st March 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 98 mins
Director: Roy Andersson
Starring: Lars North, Stefan Larsson, Bengt C.W. Carlsson, Torbjorn Fahlström, Sten Andersson
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Sweden/Norway/Denmark

Leaps From The Second Floor might be a more appropriate title for Roy Andersson’s fourth feature. A success at 2000’s Cannes, Andersson’s portrait of discontent earned him a share of the Special Jury Prize, so for him, at least, the four years it took to complete were worth the effort. But is the 98 minute investment worth anyone else’s time?

A sizable chunk of Songs From The Second Floor is spent presenting a handful of middle-aged protagonists who do little more than struggle through day-to-day life. As the narrative makes shallow burrows into the circumstances of each man, micro-plots emerge which, alone, have little impact on the film’s direction, but collectively they make Andersson’s point.

Central, although by no means dominant, to the first division is the plight of a salesman. Introduced by way of one of his employees whom he ruthlessly fires, his situation is one that the audience learns most about. Having dismissed his staff, he then loses his furniture business to a lit match - and his own hand. Realising that his company is more profitable as an insurance claim than a business, he chooses an insurance battle over a war for sales. Unimpressed by his rash action, his wife proceeds to throw him onto the street. A broken man, he would perhaps benefit from a bed at the psychiatric ward where his youngest son resides.

The latter story that brings Songs From The Second Floor to an end is another one of commerce. This time the protagonist is scouting for his next lucrative business opportunity and “an extra zero” on his earnings. This is where religion comes to the rescue, or so he and his new partner think. The millennium is fast approaching and Jesus will hit the big 2000: what better opening to earn at least two more zeros? With the most powerful marketing tool leading their venture, the duo tap into in a new trade: crucifixes. The inevitable happens, of course, and their high hopes are dashed. It appears God wasn’t on their side this time, and nor was business…


Those tuning in to Songs From The Second Floor to be taken on a journey will find themselves at a standstill. The film’s fragmented structure means that no progress can really be made and the scant plot traps characters in a loop, destined to continue their circular, repetitive lives. No doubt, this undeniably forms the foundation of Andersson’s bleak vision, his argument if you will, but it hardly excites onlookers.

Viewers, in fact, are at mighty risk of alienation. As insightful as Songs From The Second Floor may be, an absence of substance lingers - there is nothing solid to get into. As one character comments, “it makes you wonder where all these people are going,” and, in this case, wonder why you should care. Protagonists are mere instruments to Andersson’s exploration of the monotony of life. Although their privacy is evaded by cameras in the bedroom, a massive distance remains between the screen and the audience. Viewers are very much watching events, rather than experiencing them. And who would want to anyway, when they already live this tedium for the other twenty-two-and-a-half hours of their day?

Yet it might be a bit more satisfying if the audience’s own investment in Andersson’s film was at least rewarded by a bit of engagement; acknowledgement, even. Characters open the film as strangers and they close it as strangers. None of the characters are attributed any depth - no personal history, no sentiments, and no personality. There is no-one inviting viewers to identify with them and the only empathy up for grabs is the shared experience of life’s little burdens. Vitally, though, motive is missing, and this is what might frustrate viewers. Save that simple weakness - money - there appears to be little driving the characters, and this contributes to and indeed reinforces Andersson’s intention. Just like the film’s narrative, or lack of one, this is strikingly true of reality, and the direction should be recognised for that. For in real life, no, we don’t know that man’s life story; no, we can’t always read our friends’ emotions in their eyes; and, no, we don’t know our colleagues’ lifelong ambitions. But whether this is what viewers want in a film should surely be their choice.


Songs From The Second Floor is no doubt an accurate reminder of life as it is, no frills attached. Andersson’s observations are meaningfully valid, but ultimately, they have been made before. His focus on industry gives him a clichéd Marxist argument and his characters are too realistic to enjoy. The director’s four year effort to reach the same conclusion, or non-conclusion, will be unfulfilling for most. Songs From The Second Floor is a film of reflection but certainly not progression. RS

SPECIAL FEATURE: DVD Review: Exorcismus

Film: Exorcismus
Release date: 14th February 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 96 mins
Director: Manuel Carballo
Starring: Sophie Vavasseur, Doug Bradley, Stephen Billington, Tommy Bastow, Richard Felix
Genre: Horror
Studio: E1
Format: DVD
Country: Spain

This is an English-Language release.

Manuel Carballo makes his contribution to the possession-movie pool with his second feature film. Like his debut, El último justo, the aspiring horror director explores the darker side of religion via family skeletons, pushy parents and adolescent antics as Satan makes another date with humanity.

Emma (Sophie Vavasseur) is a typical British 15-year-old in most ways but one. Her middle-class parents insist on home-schooling their little girl when all she wants is to go to school like normal teenagers. As it turns out, ‘normal’ isn’t quite so easily achieved. As soon as one obstacle is removed, in the form of her parents relenting to her wishes, another, much bigger obstruction lies in her path - in the form of the devil.

When friends and family make allusions to bizarre episodes that Emma can’t remember, viewers are treated to snatched flashbacks to support their stories. It soon becomes clear that there’s another side to Emma: the seemingly conformist teen is apparently engaged in the obligatory youth counter-culture scene. Whilst she experiments with style, music and a social life, her interest in the subversive runs deeper than even her friends realise, and with the aid of Christopher (Stephen Billington), her priestly uncle, she learns more than just how to apply smudgy black eyeliner. This is when the trouble starts. Thanks to Chris, she is equipped with knowledge more powerful than either of them anticipated; lying dormant, this ammunition is ignited in the wake of her overbearing mother. The standard possession process ensues.

Mercifully, the task of convincing Lucy (Jo-Anne Stockham) and John (Richard Felix) of the truth behind their daughter’s strops is short-lived and viewers are spared the usual 90 minutes of desperate endeavours of persuasion. Overlooking their evident distrust of Chris and his shady history with teen girls, despair drives them to accept his aid. He and his niece embark on exorcisms, the details of which are to be kept from her parents. But Lucifer’s temper tantrums aren’t all that well-meaning Chris is concealing…


True to the low-budget allure of possession horror, the mind is where terror lays, not gory special effects. Film fans either love or hate this subtle form of horror, and the lack of graphic blood and guts may reassure some, whilst hardened horror fans, who should be wise enough to know what to expect, might be disappointed.

Similarly, Carballo’s cast of unknown Brit actors fit right in with budget and, to a degree, this is displayed in their performances. Lucy is pure bossy mother material, making her an utterly flat and irritating character. John is hardly much better as the quietly-spoken counterpart who meekly reinforces his matriarch’s commands. Perhaps Stockham and Felix ought to be cut some slack, however, since it must be admitted that their script doesn’t leave much room for artistic licence. Vavasseur’s portrayal of a British teenager is convincing enough to carry the viewer along with her plight, but some might argue that she is simply playing herself. To an extent, this is unavoidable: how else can a teenager play a teenager? Nevertheless, her performance is much stronger than her filmic parents’ and, since the weight of the film rests on her shoulders, she has a big job.

Emma, as a character, is more than a two-tiered Victoria sponge sandwiched together with a jam of evil. She is an angsty teenager, and not all of her defiance can be blamed on that age-old excuse of possession. Simultaneously, though, Emma is ultimately a victim of circumstance, and this makes her a sympathetic character. The devil’s reign reaches much further than the odd attempted murder, and his presence indirectly triggers the destruction of a person’s entire world, which she is absolutely defenceless against. Whether Vavasseur manages to get this sense of ambiguity across to the viewer with as much force as she could have is debatable, but she gives it a respectable try.

Any possession-movie is bound to resemble its peers where plot is concerned. How many ways can an unsuspecting host fall prey to evil forces? Exorcismus therefore makes easy viewing for all; its accessibility naturally working in its favour and broadening audience appeal. Towards the end, however, Carballo seems to make a rushed effort to challenge viewers, which does little more than disturb the steady narrative. To the enquiring mind, hints and implications are indicated then quickly and pointlessly dismissed anyway, making climactic tension inconveniently turbulent. A conclusion consistent with the rest of the straight-forward story would have been more satisfying.

Carballo can hardly be blamed for his attempt at a twisty ending, given the expanse of his chosen genre. After all, is another addition really necessary? Exorcismus may be best appreciated as a continuation of the trend set by the likes of Carrie and The Exorcist, rather than an original modernisation. Psychoanalytical statements about metaphors and entering womanhood were all discussed by Laura Mulvey and friends decades ago, and Emma’s story is just another expression of their timeless sentiments. Carballo, though, shouldn’t be condemned for rehashing a tried and tested formula; he should be commended for creating such a strong example of a successful genre.


Carballo was clearly not aiming at originality with Exorcismus, so anyone seeking a fresh horror film will go away disappointed. But what Carballo does achieve, despite his uninspiring script and uninspired cast, is a shining example of the teen-girl possession film. Mild and modest, this is an inoffensive horror to suit the masses. RS

REVIEW: DVD Release: Amores Perros

Film: Amores Perros
Release date: 24th September 2001
Certificate: 18
Running time: 154 mins
Director: Alejandro González Iñárritu
Starring: Emilio Echevarría, Gael García Bernal, Goya Toledo, Álvaro Guerrero, Vanessa Bauche
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico

In 2001, Amores Perros established a concrete foundation for the allegiance of Alejandro González Iñárritu amd Gael García Bernal to build their recent stream of candid revelations about their culture. By name as well as nature, this early affiliation has no doubt influenced subsequent releases. Tragedy and money dictate the lives of three independent, but unknowingly connected individuals. A maze of stories explores the impact of a single momentous event that alters the very core of those involved. A reflection of identity and human nature, Iñárritu and Arriaga’s eloquent collaboration makes for a revealing case.

Everything kicks off with a literal bang when brothers Octavia (Gael García Bernal) and Ramiro (Marco Pérez) are introduced. Hurtled into a car chase, viewers immediately know the kind of characters they are dealing with - and they’re definitely not on the right side of the law. With unusual concern for the wounded dog lying across their back seat, the siblings dodge oncoming traffic and give the stunt team a satisfying, but moderate stretch of their skills. The aforementioned dog that clings onto life is in fact a gateway to wealth. Far from the family pet, Cofi is a working dog who earns his keep in the illegal world of dog fighting. Whilst Ramiro puts his share of winnings into his hedonistic habits, Octavia funds his secret family. Secret, because it is in fact his brother’s: he has fallen for Ramiro’s schoolgirl partner - and their child. As the abusive Ramiro busies himself with other women, drugs and money, the ‘good’ brother steps up to the role of father to his nephew.

The second set of lives Iñárritu touches upon is Daniel and Valeria (Álvaro Guerrero and Goya Toledo). The family guy and media mogul leaves his wife for his celebrity girlfriend, but the woman he fell for doesn’t hang around for long. She may have remained in body, but her tormented spirit has gone AWOL. Valeria is the true heroine of the tale, exposing Daniel‘s role as little more than a vehicle through which to express the gross avarice of modern society.

Chivito is played by Echevarrí, who is fast becoming a Bernal for the older generation - or maybe that should be Bernal is an Echevarri for teenagers. Often appearing alongside his counterpart, Echevarrí makes his apprentice accessible to his peers. Chivito completes the Amores Perros trio and proves crime isn’t just for the young. Not quite homeless, he has a roof over his head and food in his stomach courtesy of his criminal contacts; few standards or taboos are too low to line his wallet. When viewers relive the accident one final time, they see that he is one of the first on the scene, rummaging shamelessly through blood soaked pockets. A reputable crook, he charges fractional fees to carry out the desires of villains, and his latest job makes him responsible for solving a sibling tension once and for all…


Amores Perros is a film driven equally by story and character. Iñárritu undoubtedly proves his craftsmanship by harnessing Arriaga’s intricate script, taming it and presenting it to punters in a truly accessible way. Like a circus master of cinema, he boldly thrusts his head into the lion’s mouth of plot. Yawning wide, it is poised, threatening to clamp down and sink those jagged fangs of mishap and mistake into the director’s neck. Yet Iñárritu effortlessly escapes the peril he flirts with, albeit with tried and tested themes. So smoothly does he execute the script, it may only be when viewers step back to recall the entirety of what they have watched that they realise its enormity.

Such an extensive collection of plots requires a similarly extensive cast, and a gifted one at that. Iñárritu strikes gold once again, as his actors deliver wonderfully. With no light-hearted task ahead of them, they have a duty to represent persuasive and forcible transformations. Of course, to claim that each undergoes a personality transplant would be crude, but undeniably they all grow in their own appropriate and achievable ways. Octavia’s may be a little predictable and a little twee, but provides a firm foundation.

Valeria’s development is deserving of closer inspection: it is gradual, rewarding and endearing. Toledo puts on a noteworthy performance - utterly compelling and inspiring. The costume department also demonstrates its skill, manifesting Valeria’s strife in her appearance. Established as a typical supermodel type, she is capitalism personified. Her body and life is shattered, however, and this triggers her own personal discovery; rather beautifully, she descends into modesty and reticence. A little too perfect and a little too satisfying, her situation is nevertheless a powerful one. Viewers, whether they know it or not, will have already endured streams of Marxism in film, but this shouldn’t detract from their import. Teaming politics with trauma and personal crises, Iñárritu avoids exhausting the argument - thankfully, he makes his point and swiftly moves on.

Chivito goes on proving the talents of Iñárritu’s costumiers - he is physically unrecognisable by the film’s end. His story and character overhaul is spectacular in terms of outward transformation, but also by its alteration to the entire film. The latter is so subtle, and perhaps slightly subjective, that the additional layer of suggestion brought to Ameros Perros may remain undetected by many. For those who do uncover it, the entire film will take on an entirely new meaning. Ultimately, it seems to question assumptions made of each character’s identity - a poignant challenge, strikingly applicable to judgements made in real life.


Iñárritu truly masters Arriaga’s script, and irrefutably knew what he was doing when he made Amores Perros. By the end, it becomes clear that every detail is fully intended and contributes to a sum greater than its parts. With remarkable skill, he accessibly works socio-political commentary and personal tribulations into a complicated yet coherent film. RS

REVIEW: DVD Release: Peepli [Live]

Film: Peepli [Live]
Release date: 31st January 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 107 mins
Director: Anusha Rizvi
Starring: Omkar Das Manikpuri, Raghubir Yadav, Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Shalini Vatsa, Farrukh Jaffer
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: India

Suicide; it gets attention. Not least for the hero of Peepli [Live], a directing debut from newcomers Anusha Rizvi and Mahmood Farooqui. In a surprisingly upbeat drama, they build a solid foundation for what may well turn into a lucrative career in film.

Natha and Budhia are a pair of mild-mannered brothers living in rural India; like the rest of their village, they make their living from farming. But when the local authorities threaten to repossess their land, it is left to them to come up with a solution.

With national elections pending, politicians are currying favour. Recognising the hardship of farming, a scheme has been implemented that does offer rural families an aid, but also betrays the materialism of India’s rich and powerful. 100,000 rupees is the price put on any farmer’s life, should he resort to taking his own life. Like countless others, the brothers have realised that it is with this programme that their answer lies. Worth more dead than alive, Natha decides to join the growing trend for suicide and vows to end his life.

Unexpected pressure comes crashing down upon the protagonist when the press, naïve and ignorant of their neighbours’ strife, catch wind of his plight and see dollar signs. Suddenly the unsuspecting farmer, who has never even seen a camera, finds himself in the midst of a savage media frenzy. Overwhelmed, the humble farmer determines to make a getaway...


Modest and unassuming, the directors acknowledge their country’s situation in a pleasingly refreshing way. They are well aware that the world’s woes have been explored in countless other films, books, plays and paintings, and they neatly avoid falling into the trap of exhaustion. Peepli [Live] is simply an admission of India’s tragic poverty and does not seek to make an original statement or find an answer, and for this, viewers will surely be grateful.

Just as Natha becomes the vehicle for the predatory journalists and exploitative politicians amongst India’s cosmopolitan classes, he also provides an outlet for his creators to express their cynicism at the industry into which they are breaking. Again, Rizvi and Farooqui touch upon the ruthless greed of the media without reiterating opinions that we have all heard and probably share. After all, what’s the use in preaching to the converted?

A pleasingly upbeat film, Peepli [Live] is full of the fresh energy that its directors bring. Rather than dwelling on the bleak side, the protagonists and their peers are not victims in this story. India is in fact commemorated: music penetrates the narrative, for example. Whether through its joyful soundtrack or characters mumbling lyrics and humming tunes to themselves, faith is admirably conveyed through music. Verses recognise the country’s poverty and inequality, but also celebrate its vibrant aspirations. Despite the unjust privation experienced by its poor, India’s population is strong and appreciative. For audiences, Peepli [Live] is not only a brief lesson in socio-economics, but also about themselves, for Rizvi and Farooqui even encourage a little personal reflection.

A well-made film, this debut is impressively slick and seamless. There is little to challenge audiences other than their own reaction to the facts presented, and because of this, Peepli [Live] has a liberating sense of freedom about it. Natha’s adventure is carried out almost light-heartedly, and there are undeniable moments of unanticipated comic relief. It is difficult not to enjoy one of India’s latest offerings to cinema, for it is truly accessible to all.


Peepli [Live] is ultimately a tale of tragedy, set against what is really quite a harrowing backdrop. But rather than moping in misery, Rizvi and Farooqui take an unusually optimistic approach - although humour isn’t forced and they don’t fall into the realms of satire. Instead, their collaboration is a gentle taste of the reality faced by thousands. More than a socio-political commentary, though, Peepli [Live] is a story in its own right, which everyone can appreciate. RS

REVIEW: DVD Release: Good Morning

Film: Good Morning
Release date: 17th January 2011
Certificate: U
Running time: 205 mins
Director: Yasujiro Ozu
Starring: Keiji Sada, Yoshiko Kuga, Chishû Ryû, Kuniko Miyake, Haruko Sugimura
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: BFI
Format: DVD
Country: Japan

In a world where the mundane hides meaning, it’s what’s left unspoken that is most poignant. Communication and real people is what Yasujirô Ozu listlessly investigates in his recently re-released Good Morning, an engaging snatch of life in a mediocre Japanese community.

How does a filmmaker plot real life? Minimally, if they use Ozu’s approach. The narrative is threadbare, almost to the point on non-existence. Although it is scripted, ‘documentary’ springs to mind.

Whilst schoolboys are busy envying each other and making vows of silence, their mothers are occupied with finger pointing when the Women’s Group’s fees go missing - but more to the point, Mrs Haraguchi has a new washing machine! Her recent acquisition certainly ruffles a few feathers, and gives the women something to cluck about, even incurring accusations between mother and daughter. Gossip and bickering is consistent, but no-one ever really listens to each other, much less take action.

Upon beginning the film, viewers may expect this saga to come to a climactic conclusion after an hour or so of tension. A solution is reached, but not with the drama that other directors would feel obliged to create.

In addition to the money mystery, Ozu inserts a few subplots, which resemble frivolous anecdotes more than narratives. Two young brothers get up to harmless antics and demand a television set from their parents like their friends have. A pensioner is driven back to work to cover the cost of living. A bachelor and a young lady are on the cusp of a relationship, only they’re too scared to admit it. But isn’t it these little things that make life what it is?


That is why Good Morning forms such a strong bond with the viewer; establishing a shared understanding. Ozu presents audiences with a candidly dull account of life, which is thoroughly universal and timeless. To the onlooker who watches from the outside, nothing really happens, but actually an awful lot does go on within. Take the budding couple, for example - who hasn’t felt that silent swell of excitement and affection for another person at some point in their life? Those uneventful family meals that host squabbling siblings and trifling inconveniences have undoubtedly been lived by audience members. Ozu engages on a level seldom seen in the arts for fear of boring the consumer; but in this case, its very monotony is what makes the film memorable.

If the characters’ lack of purpose is most striking within the film, then cinematic style holds the fort without. Over the course of the film, it will dawn on viewers how effectively these two matters work together here, strengthening the laborious pace that is established from the start. Static cameras and an overall omission of movement may initially go undetected - one of those clever techniques which manages to create effect without drawing attention to itself – but when the finger finally lands on what exactly is feeding this atmosphere, it adds to the intentional frustration at lack of progress within the narrative.

Camera angles also feel odd and bizarre. Viewers frequently find themselves on the floor, watching the feet of characters who enter and exit the scene reminding them of Japanese culture. Cinematographer Yûharu Atsuta truly makes his presence known, however, through a peculiar obsession with straight lines and right angles; a visual clue to Ozu’s study of conformity. Interior design, patterns on clothing, and the village layout are dominated by squares and rectangles, and should just one of those lines be broken, it would immediately ruin the entire shot. This is equally the case within Ozu’s community, where change is an alien concept. This highly structured and rather artificial environment is also reflected in characters’ movement. Controlled to the point of choreography, paths rarely meet on the street so that characters are always alone, just missing the chance to interact with others.

Whilst the tedium of life makes Good Morning as applicable today as when it was made, several traits also mark it as a film of its time. That phobia of individuality dates and locates it perfectly, but so do other trivialities. Made at the end of the 1950s, the decade’s leap forward in technology is addressed here with implications of progress and youth; afterall, the other invention that the ‘50s saw was the advent of adolescence. Good Morning bears witness to a generational split, emphasised by the reoccurrence of gadgets. Whilst some are swayed by “idiot boxes” and appliances, others are struggling to resist the wind of change, determined to uphold their traditionally familiar home. But Ozu seems to maintain that technology is the way forward, for that pensioner who returns to work is doing so as an electrical salesman.

Also included on the re-release of Good Morning is one of Ozu’s earlier efforts, I Was Born, But… , a compelling coming-of-age story and a powerful statement on overwhelming capitalism.

I Was Born, But… centres around a middle-class version of the families we see in Good Morning, complete with two inseparable brothers who learn a massive life lesson. This family, however, are driven by what the later family lack: a determination to succeed and become “important.” The father works for a powerful company beneath his manager, whom he makes every effort to charm, for what is ambition and achievement without promotion?

His passion for prominence has inevitably been engrained on the minds of his sons, who evidently feel pressure on their own academic performance. A spanner is thrown into the works, however, by the school bullies. The playground predators make school life intolerable, spurring the miserable brothers to sacrifice their grades and skip classes.

Not only do their grades slip, but they also learn that their father might not practice exactly what he preached. The boys’ blind admiration is cast into doubt when they realise that dad isn’t as respectable as they were led to believe. In this humiliating scene, the boys’ acceptance by their peers, which they have worked - and paid - so hard to win, is also placed under threat; this is no minor problem to a child, nor in a society where approval means everything.

I Was Born, But… is a sceptical reflection of the domineering commercialism of the superficial West. The entire premise of the film is balanced upon the ruthless realities brought on by modern capitalism. Sadly, material achievement takes precedence over happiness and the young brothers’ rather touching introduction to this makes Ozu’s statement all the more brutal.


“Reality TV” is a term that has been thrown around for almost two decades, but Ozu was ahead of the game. Bravely admitting that reality isn’t all excitement, he even pre-dates the British Realism trend of the 1960s. Some may find comfort in his film’s modesty, reassurance that life doesn’t have to be all thrills. Others may choose to take it as a warning. Escapism certainly isn’t one of Good Morning’s allures, but empathy and insight might be. RS

REVIEW: DVD Release: Sin Nombre

Film: Sin Nombre
Release date: 1st February 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 101 mins
Director: Cary Fukunaga
Starring: Edgar Flores, Paulina Gaitan, Jesus Lira, Kristian Ferrer
Genre: Adventure/Crime/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Revolver
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico/USA

Girls, gangsters and a road trip mean only one thing these days, especially when divulged by a young Spanish-speaker. Cary Joji Fukunaga jumps on the Latin coming-of-age bandwagon with a road movie driven by fear and family. In streets ruled by violence, where honesty is absolute, who can a runaway trust?

The three young protagonists, Casper (Flores), Smiley (Ferrer) and Sayra (Gaitan) are quickly established as hailing from old-fashioned families. With their elders’ focus on settling them down, the youngsters have developed something of double lives to accommodate their natural desire to deviate.

Street-wise and savvy, the trio dabbles in warfare and crime. Smiley goes through agony to join Casper’s crime family, the Mara Salvatrucha. Yet spurred by the killing of the girl he loved, Casper is making efforts to leave. The course of the film is based around his long, risky trek from Guatemala to New Jersey.

He is joined by Sayra, whose relatives are the optimum of the traditional family. The importance of unity has led them to send her to the USA to rediscover distant relatives and she accompanies Casper on his escape…


Casper and Sayra’s very different motives but identical journey encapsulates the division between generations. This is a concept not exactly unfamiliar in recent Latin cinema, and Fukunaga seems to have been captured by the same fascination as his peers. Those already familiar with the work of his contemporaries are unlikely to make any enlightening discoveries in Sin Nombre, but the seedy taste of gangland living lends it a slightly darker feeling than some forbearers. Grounded by very physical and very real threats, a smidge of sentiment is replaced by excitement, which is often lacking in other Latin New Wave films.

Crime and punishment may govern Fukunaga’s coming-of-age story, but family is just as influential. By entrusting their beloved to the care of an ex-gangster and his baggage, Sayra’s relations unknowingly push her into a family of quite another kind. This one is just as devoted, but conversely motivated, with a knack of turning adults into children and friends into enemies. The ‘father’ punishes as he sees fit, initiating rituals that suspiciously resemble Smiley’s initiation - a blood-thirsty affair in which grown men barbarically attack the small boy.

So powerful is this network of gang members that, rather obviously, escaping them is far from easy. At times, the Mara seem one step ahead of Casper, and even North America isn’t quite the sanctuary that he needs. Casper turns this to his advantage - or so it seems - by calling upon his own American associates made during his gangster stint.

Dishonesty is an expensive trait for anyone caught up in this lifestyle. Whilst Casper’s ‘aunt’ (by alliance, not blood) helps the pair make their next get away, she is equally loyal to those who pursue them, and it becomes clear that she won’t put her neck on the line by lying for their sake. Apparently, this is the general rule of thumb in the realm of gangsters, invoking a weighty underlying edge of misgiving. Some might make accusations of cowardice and some might call it wisdom, or survival - whatever label viewers choose to attach, this consistent hunch of caution accommodates a little character reflection.

And, despite the youth of the leading cast, they bring the necessary depth and insight. Ferrer’s performance during Smiley’s initiation is painful to watch - but in a good way. Convincingly suffering for his cause, emotions are pulled at the pitiful sight of the boy curled at the feet of men. When he is pulled to his feet and turns to the camera, an unsettling grin of blood on his lips, the heart is apt to crumble in two as a single question booms loud: why? Gaitan’s character of Sayra is also a persuasive one. Her feelings, for example, when informed of her journey north to meet her husband-in-waiting, are perfectly illustrated on her young face. Marred with despair, the young actress portrays a character of sympathy, but also of inner strength, determination and eventually hope, without overacting the script.


If you can’t trust your family, who can you trust? Sin Nombre is both tragic and inspiring, and certainly quenches that current thirst for Latin American teenagers. It does, however, risk being overlooked in a few years’ time; if nothing else simply due to timing. This New Wave’s ground breakers have come and gone, and Fukunaga’s latest is likely to be lost in their shadows. Although polished, it is not quite Hollywood, not quite indie - not quite a gangster film and not quite a love story. Still, for fans of the movement, it is definitely worth watching, and for those who haven’t yet experienced more acclaimed titles, it will prove an engaging and enjoyable watch. RS