Showing posts with label Released: June 2010. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Released: June 2010. Show all posts

REVIEW: DVD Release: Cult Spaghetti Westerns























Film: Cult Spaghetti Westerns
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 300 mins
Director: Sergio Corbucci, Damiano Damiani & Enzo G. Castellari
Starring: Franco Nero, Gian Maria Volonte, Klaus Kinski, Lou Castel, Martine Beswick
Genre: Western/Action/Drama
Studio: Argent
Format: DVD
Country: Italy

Proving that there’s more to the Spaghetti Western than Sergio Leone’s famed and rather marvellous ‘Dollars’ trilogy, Ardent Films’ Cult Spaghetti Westerns box set presents three lesser known offerings: the most famous of the bunch being Django, as well as A Bullet For The General and Keoma; the latter of which is frequently considered to be the sub-genre’s last great opus.


Django (Sergio Corbucci, 1966)
A lone, coffin dragging gunslinger by the name of Django (Franco Nero) gets caught up in a private war between two rival outlaw gangs when he saves a woman from torture - and possibly worse - and returns her to the nearby, economically deprived town stuck between the two rival factions: one ran by the bloodthirsty, former military type Major Jackson (Eduardo Fajardo) and the other; a ragtag band of Mexican militia.

When Django wipes out the vast majority of Jackson’s men with relative ease in the name of protecting the woman, Maria (Loredana Nusciak), and the town’s saloon/whorehouse, he is welcomed into the militia ranks led by a former comrade in arms: General Hugo Rodriguez (José Bódalo). Together, they hatch a plan to thieve Jackson’s gold supply from a Mexican army fort; splitting the spoils evenly. For Rodriquez, it means he’ll be able to buy enough firepower to return to Mexico unchallenged by the authorities. For Django, it’s the possible start to a new life…


Django had the honour and distinction of being one of the most violent films ever made back in the mid-60s, leading it to be banned in several countries, including the UK, until 1993. However, that hasn’t deterred imitators to spawn literally dozens of unofficial sequels that, while have little to do with the original, copy the attitude of its eponymous lead character. Many films incorporated the word ‘Django’ in their title simply by way of cashing in including Keoma, which was released in America under the name Django Rides Again.

Indeed, the very mysterious persona of Django is what elevates his namesake from a routine western to a key work of the genre. There’s nothing new and exciting about the premise – a lone, near mythical gunslinger drifts into a one horse town ravaged by bandits and sorts it all out whilst fulfilling his own selfish wealth orientated desires – but the protagonist’s mystique and general magnetism keeps things interesting. Franco Nero plays Django with relative ease and in a similar manner to Clint Eastwood’s “man with no name.” Both men are highly talented, emotionally distant shooters that have no qualm over murdering hordes of dirty bandit types. Both are out for themselves but also exhibit a strange code of honour and sense of justice, which is what usually lands them in trouble to begin with. Django is seemingly invincible, able to gun down numerous assailants in predicament free succession, making it all the more engaging when he is finally caught short and left to the mercy of his enemies.

The film’s other characterisations are fairly cardboard and one-dimensional: the spineless saloon owner; the flirty prostitute; the greasy Mexican ending every other sentence with “gringo”; and the cold-blooded antagonist all make an appearance at some point. Only Django offers any real dynamic, despite being extremely similar to Leone’s nameless anti-hero. His insistence on dragging a coffin everywhere helps flesh things out and makes for irresistible iconography, which has been homaged and copied for decades.

The film has certainly proven to be very influential in this regard. One censor enraging scene where a character’s ear is sliced off with a knife was the inspiration to a similarly infamous sequence in Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs (1992). Takashi Miike’s Spaghetti Western homage Sukiyaki Western Django (2007) not only makes reference to Django in its title but goes as far as using the original film’s rousing theme song – a paean to the lead’s mysterious past.

Whilst the film lacks the grandiose conviction that Leone was able to achieve in his output– The Good, The Bad And The Ugly (1966), for instance – director Sergio Corbucci presents a somewhat rawer opus. The violence flows thick and fast; a machinegun totting Django butchers a street full of bad guys is one of the film’s highlights, as well as the aforementioned ear cutting scene, which Corbucci allegedly “forgot” to remove for the censors when it was sent to be classified. All of which is suitably captured by Enzo Barboni’s reliable cinematography, resulting in a solidly entertaining movie experience marred slightly with some lazy characterisation and a functional yet somewhat formulaic plot. Nevertheless, for those who like their spaghetti westerns grisly and violent – not to mention being rather fun – Django is almost about as good as it gets. An archetypal and satisfying western that deserves more exposure beyond the trappings of cultdom.


A Bullet For The General (Damiano, Damiani, 1966)
Set during the Mexican Revolution of the early 20th century, a group of Mexican bandits led by El Chuncho (Gian Maria Volonté) rob a train carrying weapons for the Mexican army. They are assisted by an American passenger, Bill Tate (Lou Castel), who stops the train in exchange for him being allowed to join the group.

Chuncho accepts and together they orchestrate a string of armed robberies in order to accumulate enough firearms to then sell on to General Elias and his revolutionaries. However, as the humble El Chuncho starts to become torn between getting rich and doing what’s right, it is slowly revealed that Tate – claiming to be a fugitive from the law – is not what he seems…


Damiano Damiani’s first attempt at helming a western, A Bullet For The General is an enjoyable action romp that is also politically charged, bringing issues of ideology and trust to the fore instead of opting for the usual western catalysts of revenge and injustice. The result is a surprisingly unstereotypical spaghetti western that has all the hallmarks for a potential genre classic.

While performances all round are pretty good – dodgy dubbing not withstanding – this is clearly Volonté’s film – he is extremely warm and likeable. Here he is given the chance to play against type - his previous work in Sergio Leone’s A Fistful Of Dollars (1964) and For A Few Dollars More (1965) largely confining him to the role of generic dirty Mexican, thus presenting an interesting role reversal. Volonté’s bandit is the hero to Castel’s laconic stranger villain, making this spaghetti western very much against the grain, which may dissuade some viewers. Regular Werner Herzog collaborator Klaus Kinski also makes a memorable appearance as Volonté’s brother; a bandit with a religious bent – offering his foes damnation in hell from the good book in one hand whilst hurling dynamite from the other.

Having said that, the action in A Bullet For The General is somewhat muted compared to its brethren, giving it an air of believability. An introductory voiceover explicitly frames the proceedings within the Mexican Revolution, giving events historical context – the film’s opening salvo sees a group of young men being put to a public firing squad, immediately setting the slightly more serious than usual tone. The iconography of the lone gunslinger overcoming ridiculous odds a la Eastwood’s “man with no name” or Nero’s Django does not exist here.

Not that A Bullet For The General is without its epic spaghetti western set pieces - the first one being a large scale train robbery in which the two leads meet. However, fancy gunplay is mostly ditched in favour of a more realist execution; complimenting the film’s somewhat more mature themes. Tate strives for personal monetary gain, paying little attention to disposable pleasures such as drinking, smoking and women. El Chuncho, however, is caught between wanting to do better for himself and his followers and wanting to perpetuate the cause, driving an ideological wedge between the two partners in crime. By the film’s end, El Chuncho has an important decision to make that defines his very character: to be a humble peasant or a rich jerk.

Antonio Secchi’s cinematography is suitably wide and sparse, highlighting the expansive wastelands and dusty forts in which the narrative unfolds. Production design is also commendable; El Chuncho looks like he was born wearing his now weathered militia garb, whilst Tate exhibits an unspeakable cool and collectedness that no doubt influences Chuncho’s decision making abilities. This all plays out within the inconspicuous yet assured directorship of Damiani and rounded out with a decent soundtrack by Bruno Nicolai, whilst being overseen by spaghetti western score supreme maestro Ennio Morricone.

Whilst A Bullet For The General is not as fun as say Django, it could be argued that it is a superior film - wonderful central performances under quietly confident direction attest to that. A spaghetti western that’s not afraid to get its hands dirty with a dose of social commentary – highlighting the morally dubious nature that the sub-genre and its characters consistently revel in – A Bullet For The General, whilst not perfect, is a solid entry nonetheless with enough compelling characterisation (certainly more compelling than Django, save for that film’s titular antihero), drama and action to tick most boxes.


Keoma (Enzo G. Castellari, 1976)
Keoma (Franco Nero), a half-Indian half-Caucasian civil war veteran returns to his homeland to find it in squalor and disrepair at the hands of gang leader and presiding landlord Caldwell (Donald O’Brien) and his enforcers; keeping the inhabitants in poverty and cureless from the plague that’s going around. Those who do circum are rounded up and dumped at the old mine on the outskirts. It is here that a passing Keoma saves a pregnant woman (Olga Karlatos) – wrongly assumed to be infected – from imminent murder.

While in the area, Keoma returns to the family ranch where his father (William Berger) is annoyed by the state things have fallen into; partly caused by Keoma’s three half-brothers who serve under Caldwell. He also has a run in with the family’s former slave George (woody Strode); now a free man and a drunk. Together, the three men plan to save the town from Caldwell’s greed and corruption…


By the mid-70s, the western was starting to dwindle in popularity, becoming a rarity of sorts; not resurfacing proper until the early-90s with revisionist pieces such as Dances With Wolves (1990) and the highly acclaimed Unforgiven (1992). In this regard, Keoma is often seen to be one of the last great westerns before the genre’s decline, and while the film has its flaws, it certainly doesn’t disappoint.

Nero’s typical lone wolf gunman is given some much needed fleshing out in the form of several tastefully executed flashback sequences on his growing up with a loving father and three half-brothers frustrated and angry over the latter’s open acceptance of having a ‘half-breed’ in the family. Keoma was taken in by the man after his village was burned to the ground in a senseless massacre; portrayed in another hard-hitting and well played flashback within the first few minutes that seamlessly materialises mid-pan from a character credited as The Witch (Gabriella Giacobbe), who may or may not exist solely within Keoma’s psyche. Another interesting moment takes shape as Keoma watches his young self being bullied in a barn by his brothers before his father calls them in for supper, which is then match cut to the present.

The usual themes inevitably surface. Injustice manifests itself two-fold, within the situation that Keoma’s hometown is placed in and the personal animosity between the brothers based on Keoma’s race. This is reinforced by the presence of Keoma’s former salve and kindred spirit George – a man singled out and abused because of the colour of his skin – thus creating another obstacle for the hero to overcome. Nero plays Keoma with a grizzled world weariness that’s a far cry from his career making turn as the eponymous Django ten years prior, but some similarities do remain. Both films start in a similar fashion – Nero’s gunslinger saves an innocent woman from death and brings her into the town’s saloon for her to rest after the whole ordeal. The script (co written by the film’s director Enzo G. Castellari) even goes as far to have the same scene in which Nero demands a room key from one of the saloon’s users for the woman’s convenience which, again, acts as the catalyst for the bloodshed that’s to follow.

As hinted in the use of flashbacks to serve as exposition, Keoma revels in a highly stylised approach to storytelling that’s achieved through the film’s interesting use of camera and slow-motion photography to give its action sequences extra impact. One scene sees Keoma raise all four fingers of his hand to denote how many shots he would need to dispatch a gang of four men standing in front of him. As he counts the number of shots he lowers a finger, revealing that bullet’s target in the background. The slow motion ramps up when Keoma’s victims bite the dust; a technique that would be later used by Hollywood director Walter Hill in The Warriors (1979) and his subsequent western The Long Riders (1980).

Keoma is a solid, gripping and mythical western that is incredibly stylish and not entirely without substance either. The only major flaw is the film’s overly-insistent and frequently agitating score in the form of a warbling diva and throaty male vocalist taking it in turns to sing what is happening in the film as it happens with some very on-the-nose lyrics: “Now I’m here in front of these men/Gun in hand, I’m waiting for what will be…” and; “There’s my father and my brothers and me/Tell me now father, why they hate me so.” The instrumental sections fair a lot better providing some effectively cathartic moments.


For anyone wanting to explore the spaghetti western genre beyond that of Sergio Leone’s famous outings with Clint Eastwood, the Cult Spaghetti Westerns box set presents three entries that, while not without their flaws, are very commendable and highly watchable pieces; each displaying a differing style. Django’s archetypical lone gunman makes an interesting contrast with the more realistic and ideology conscious A Bullet For The General, which in turn is vastly different form the flashy ultra-violence of Keoma. Recommended. MP


REVIEW: DVD Release: The Island























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


REVIEW: DVD Release: Soul Eater: Part One























Film: Soul Eater: Part One
Release date: 28th June 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 325 mins
Director: Takuya Igarashi
Starring: Chiaki Omigawa, Kouki Uchiyama, Akeno Watanabe, Emiri Katou, Houko Kuwashima
Genre: Anime
Studio: Manga
Format: DVD
Country: Japan

Based on the manga written and illustrated by Atsushi Okubo, Soul Eater was first released as three separate one-shots serialised in two Gangan Powered special editions and one Gangan Wing issue way back in 2003. The anime first appeared on TV Tokyo in 2008. Finally available on DVD, part one brings together the first 13 episodes.

At the Death Weapon Meister Academy (DWMA), Maka and her partner, human-weapon Soul, have collected the spirits of 99 evil mortals, needing just one from a witch to transform Soul into a death scythe - a weapon of great power that will retain order and balance to Death City. Failing, the gifted youngsters have to start all over again, but they’re not alone.

The cocky but gifted Black Star and his weapon partner Tsubaki struggle to form a workable relationship whilst new student Death the Kid must overcome his aversion to asymmetry if he and his partners Liz and Patty are to succeed in bringing down the destructive enemies threatening to collect non-evil human souls to transform one of their own into a Kishin - an evil demon God that would plunge the world into madness…


Soul Eater, like its main antagonist Medusa, is a beautiful but flawed creature. Packed with salacious humour, lengthy action sequences and stylish imagery it demands attention. Its influences can be traced all the way to genres as disparate as British Hammer Horror (with its mad scientists and mummies) and Poliziotteschi films (episode seven takes place in a crime-riddled Italy), though neither can compete with the brashness of old-school Shounen Manga.

Its audaciousness irritates just as much as it fascinates, especially in the opening episodes when we are introduced to the three main protagonists. Excluding Maka and her human-weapon Soul, the other two, Black Star especially, are just plain annoying. Whilst Death Kid’s struggle to cope with anything not evenly shaped brings levels of playground humour, Black Star’s cockiness brings nothing but maddening frustration - episode two is a real struggle until its ‘Shadow Star’ finale finally hits the right notes. In fairness, as the story progresses, the two characters become less of a headache, but it’s very hard to root for something that rattles your cage so much.

Bursting with invention and a slew of impressive weapons certain to delight all, Soul Eater’s pace is fast and furious with a delirious score of rock and hip-hop to keep things wild and rowdy right from the polished opening credits. Sadly, the interest in its lengthy opening sequence wanes after a few episodes, and the lure of the skip chapter function on the remote control is too difficult to resist. Even some of the episodes suffer from being more filler than killer - the main plot lost in the sheer effort to make even the most banal show ludicrously entertaining.

This isn’t a massive problem - the fight scenes ripped straight from the best beat-em-ups are for the most part a joy to behold; and its humour, although aimed at teenage boys mostly, is often titillating and right on the money. Episode nine, introducing the legend that is Excalibur, is a complete riot thanks to its clever twisting of a classic tale. Director Takuya Igarashi is in no rush to reveal the main plot, which is just as well seeing as there are 51 episodes in total, but it’s his use of lingering shots and moments of complete silence that pack an unexpected emotional punch.

Soul Eater’s universe is a joy to behold - even the sun and the moon have personalities, inspired by Okubo’s favourite manga Dr. Slump. It’s this attention to detail that really satisfies - the concept of arrows pointing out the obvious, or simply to show us where we should be looking is innovative and amusing, whilst the inclusion of madcap characters ripped from other genres setting it apart from the crowd. Takuya is well aware of his target audience’s expectations, and he truly delivers the goods. But he’s also savvy enough to incorporate emotion and depth to his characters, and the world that encompasses them, which could, if given the chance, appeal to more than just horny teenage boys (the female characters are clearly the strongest, the males stupid for the most part).

Not only is Soul Eater a feast for the eyes, sticking faithfully to Atsushi Okubo’s original work, it’s also packed with boisterous witticisms, be it verbal or visual, and brilliantly realised personas (even the most deranged antagonists are somehow endearing). In short, Soul Eater is a riot from start to finish. Whether it can sustain as much interest over another 38 episodes remains to be seen (it does seem like a ridiculously long ride), but for now, part two can’t come quick enough.


Regardless of its deficiencies, annoying protagonists and moments of banality, movie fans will find plenty in the inventive Soul Eater to keep them entertained. From mind-boggling action to bawdy humour, from astounding imagery to a pumping soundtrack, this first-rate anime has it all. DW


REVIEW: DVD Release: Naruto Shippuden Box Set 1























Film: Naruto Shippuden Box Set 1
Release date: 14th June 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 325 mins
Director: Masashi Kishimoto
Starring: Junko Takeuchi , Chie Nakamura, Kazuhiko Inoue
Genre: Animation
Studio: Manga
Format: DVD
Country: Japan

The continued popular adventures of the young ninja Naruto Uzumaki, and his quest to reach the highest ranks of his village using his fighting skills and powers.

The first 13 episodes of Naruto Shippuden, continuing the original long-running Naruto series.

Naruto returns to his home, the Village of the Hidden Leaf, having spent two-and-a-half years training with the legendary ninja Jiraiya. He may be older and in possession of new powers and skills, but he’s still cocky and impatient to prove himself. His old classmates have all been promoted to higher ranks of ninja, and the respect he was hoping to have earnt will need to be won through more training and taking on assignments – even those he might think are too lowly for him!

But then an unexpected opportunity comes along for Naruto and his team (containing former classmate Sakura and the formidable Kakashi Sensei) to show what they are capable of. The neighbouring Village of the Hidden Sand is under attack from the criminal Akatsuki clan, who are determined to capture Gaara, the protector of the village. Gaara and Naruto have a hidden secret - they both have a fox spirit sealed inside them, which the Akatsuki wish to possess for their own evil ends. The Akatsuki gang is formed of criminals from various villages, each of whom possesses fearsome mystical powers.

Can the combined wisdom of the ninjas of the Leaf and Sand villages save Gaara from this threat, and will Naruto manage to evade capture himself, in going to the aid of Gaara?


Like Naruto, the anime varies between taking itself very seriously, and not taking itself seriously at all. The ninjas use various supernatural techniques, or jutsu, to fight their opponents – Naruto favours the Shadow Clone Jutsu, which he can use to replicate any number of Narutos to confuse the enemy. Other ninjas use sand, water, air, or the power of their gaze to defeat their enemies. The path of the ninja is a spiritual one but they are also sometimes made to look ridiculous – one venerable ninja is known as the Pervy Sage; and the favourite joke of a very elderly character is to play at being dead or senile, which her brother says is too convincing. Naruto’s impatience and bigheadedness means his former classmate Sakura is keen to put him in his place with a slapstick fight when necessary. Where the scenes involve battle and conflict, muted colours are used, while the more light-hearted domestic scenes use brighter, primary colours for a more upbeat feeling.

Each episode ends with a short spoof, maybe a weather forecast (beware of the chance of sudden falls of Detonation Clay), an interview with a prominent character (hobbies? fishing; talent? playing dead), or an infomercial from the Leaf Village Tourist Board (welcome to the 44th training ground, known as the Forest of Death). These give the creators a chance to have some fun with the format and take a break from the dramatic tension of the main story.

Even though the anime has a large number of characters, the characterisation is strong, so that the storyline isn’t confusing, and it’s as much about character development as adventure. Although the methods of fighting are nicely varied, the fight scenes can get repetitive, so those which include a stronger psychological element rather than just continual bashing with explosive clay are more gripping. The underlying message that friendship and love is what really matters is likely to appeal to its younger target audience, rather than dwelling on any form of Mystic-Lite philosophy.


Sure to be a hit with Naruto’s many fans, the series continues its winning formula of strong characterisation, slapstick and spoof humour, cliffhanging finales and dramatic battle scenes. KR


REVIEW: DVD Release: In The Pit























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


REVIEW: DVD Release: Heimat: A Chronicle Of Germany























Series: Heimat: A Chronicle Of Germany
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 927 mins
Director: Edgar Reitz
Starring: Marita Breuer, Eva Maria Schneider, Kurt Wagner, Rüdiger Weigang, Johannes Lobewein
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: Second Sight
Format: DVD
Country: Germany

Over five years in the making, and with a running time of over fifteen hours, Edgar Reitz’s 1984 epic Heimat portrays the lives of the Simon family within their small rural village against the turbulent backdrop of 20th century Germany.

The majority of the action of Heimat (which roughly translates as ‘Homeland’) takes place in the fictional village of Schabbach, in the Hunsrück region of Germany. The story begins in 1919 with Paul Simon’s return from the Great War. His marriage to the mayor’s daughter, Maria Wiegand, and the birth of two sons does not seem enough to quell his innate sense of restlessness, and by the end of the first episode he disappears, emigrating to America (though as to why remains a mystery to his family and the inhabitants of the village for many years).

The remainder of the series focuses on the villagers of Schabbach, and particularly Maria’s journey from teenager to eventual matriarch of the Simon family.

Against the backdrop of the tumultuous events of 20th century German history, we are shown the impact on the lives of the ordinary German people, ending in 1982 with the death and funeral of Maria…


Despite being hailed by some as a sophisticated soap opera, Reitz has always insisted that his Heimat trilogy owed more to the novels of Dickens and Proust. The first Heimat seems equally indebted to that brand of naturalism that flourished in 19th century European theatre. There, as in Reitz’s film, strictly mimetic realism was often replaced by a kind of heightened realism intended to reveal deeper insights into human nature and our world, often depicting a specific society or social milieu as a microcosm in which universal truths are contained. While Heimat is most definitely concerned with historical accuracy, there are also present a number of features that give the film an added dimension, such as Paul’s hallucinatory visions of a dead war comrade, or the rain that stops, as if on cue, as the children’s choir complete their memorial service song.

Even the film’s elements of melodrama seem conscious on the part of the director, acknowledging the film’s debt to the heimatfilme genre, as well as providing a slightly jarring quality that works like the film’s various stylistic tropes to prevent the viewer from watching the film as historical escapism with no intellectual involvement. Of these stylistic tropes, the most salient is contained in the film’s cinematography. Predominantly shot in black-and-white, there are a number of individual shots in colour, sometimes whole scenes, and a few shots where an object is picked out in colour in an otherwise black-and-white frame. Reitz has stated he used colour to emphasise certain elements, most noticeably the landscapes of the heimat. But for the most part, it seems fairly arbitrary, drawing attention to the film’s artificiality (in the purest sense of the word), while reminding us that the historical background was very much real.

For this is a film that deals with zeitgeist in its most literal sense, haunted by the various ghosts of 20th century European history. As early as the first episode, a minister gives an impassioned speech in which he foresees the day when a ‘genius of (Germany’s) blood’ will rise to lead the country out of its misery. There is a terrible irony in the minister’s belief that this leader will take Germany into a period of peace. Later on, there are foreshadows of Kristallnacht in the smashing of the windows of a Jewish man’s home, and it is not long before the first of the communist sympathisers are rounded up for ‘re-education’ in the emerging concentration camps.

The subtly of its undertones, the simplicity of direction and the palpable warmth Reitz displays towards his characters perhaps account for some of the criticism of Heimat’s perceived romanticising of a traumatic era. While it is true that major events such as the post-First World War period of hyper-inflation are mentioned only fleetingly, this seems more in keeping with the film’s naturalistic approach, where such events have become so much a part of everyday life that it barely warrants mention by the villagers. There is also an argument to be made that relatively self-sufficient rural communities like Schabbach may have been somewhat insulated from the worst of the privations suffered by the country during this period. In fact, it is only when the inhabitants embrace modernisation, buying into the promise of prosperity via the latest motor car, the fancy villa, etc., that problems arise. Everything ‘is on tick’, as Katharina observes, and this knowledge of a debt arising that must be paid for later is equally resonant today. It also gives the portrayal of the village a haunting quality that is something more than nostalgia, almost like a paean to a world that never quite existed, or at least one destined to be left behind by the 20th century.

While some viewers may find aspects of the film troubling from a political perspective (the Holocaust and persecution of the Jews remains largely the elephant in the room of Heimat), it is refreshing to see a film that deals with such events seeking neither to demonise the ordinary German people nor acting as an apologist for the crimes committed within Nazi Germany. Much of this must go down to the strong attention to character paid by the screenplay and the overall excellence of the acting. While essentially an ensemble piece, a number of performances do stand out, particularly Gertrud Bredel as the kind-hearted and down-to-earth Simon matriarch Katharina, and Marita Breuer as Maria, perhaps the moral and emotional centre of the film (as suggested by the film’s ending with her death). Overall, though, this is a series that is very much the sum of all its parts, with a direction that rarely draws attention to itself, and a simple charm that is easy to surrender to.


Realising much of Reitz’s lofty ambition, Heimat is a considerable achievement that repays repeat viewing, containing beneath its relatively simple surface a complexity and richness that mirrors life itself. GJK


REVIEW: DVD Release: Knife In The Water























Film: Knife In The Water
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: PG
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Roman Polanski
Starring: Leon Niemczyk, Jolanta Umecka, Zygmunt Malanowicz
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Studio: Odeon
Format: DVD
Country: Poland

This wasn’t Polanski’s first outing as director (that took place some seven years earlier) but this film had a lot riding on it, not only his potential career but also the current re-establishment of the Polish national identity. This film spurred the move away from Poland’s output of ‘boy meets tractor’ heritage films, as film historians have dubbed them. In 1962, a young director persuaded the National Film Council of Poland to deviate from this type of cinematic output and instead fund his small narrative driven film. Though reluctant - as Poland was still in a status of influx post World War II - the producer Stanislaw Zylewicz held sway with the powers that be, and the resulting film was Roman Polanski’s Knife In The Water.

Andrezj (Niemczyk) is a vain, controlling journalist who counts boat and wife (in that order) as two of his most treasured assets.

While driving towards a relaxing weekend away, cruising in the partially rebuilt Polish countryside, the couple picks up a dirty downbeat hitchhiker (Malanowich). Krystyna (Unecka) instantly takes a shine to the free living vagabond, which does not go unnoticed by her older, wealthier husband.

Once upon the boat, the two men begin a childish day of competitive one-upmanship not for the affections of Krystyna, but rather for their own male ego. Inevitably, this rivalry goes too far…


The direction is almost faultless. The restraint Polanski shows to concentrate on the story he wishes to tell and not get drawn into a bigger picture narrative is admirable. The countryside of Poland is seen through the farm land outside of the city, with only glimpses of the background seen as the boat travels down the river into a psychological heart of darkness.

Some would say that the film’s use of camerawork, or more noticeably the lack of, hints at a director either lacking in flair or uncertain about the vision they have for the film. Those criticisms simply don’t apply here. The minimal motion in the camera adds to the claustrophobia that Polanski establishes in the vehicle, and continues in the close quarters of the small pleasure vessel. Even the Mazurian Lake District, where the film was shot almost entirely, looks more like a single lane canal. The cinematography places the audience in a position where cabin fever is the most likely reaction from audience and character alike.

The dialogue, particularly between Niemczyk and Malanowich is excellent and the regression from supposedly mature adult men to children warring over Alpha male supremacy is so wonderfully subtle that it’s only apparent once things have gone too far.

All the actors are excellent in performance. The constant childish interplays between the two male leads could, in less delicate hands, come off as forced, perhaps even slapstick. The actors present such honesty and belief in the narrative that there is never any doubt of the male characters’ descent into immaturity.

Jolanta Umecka creates a beautiful and restrained performance. It is nothing short of a work of art as she carefully manoeuvres her husband out of the driving seat of their relationship and into her well worn passenger seat. Like a modern day Lady Macbeth, she plays an emotionally manipulative game of chess with her husband who believes they’re still playing drafts. To her credit, it is all done without coming across as a mischievous Puck-like caricature.

The choice to lead with a heavily diegetic score seems like an obvious choice now, but the decision to make a film with an almost non-existent thematic score was brave and extremely fitting. Shunning non-diegetic sound takes away another layer of filmic convention the audience is familiar with. This in turn reduces the audience’s ability to distance themselves from the events Polanski has set in motion, causing them to have to deal intimately with the tension portrayed on screen. The film abounds with everyday familiar noises - rather than allowing the viewer to take refuge in a flowing musical score, the tension is immediate, and brings itself into the intimate world of the viewer.


Cinematic cornerstones seem to appear after great times of national conflict. The Soviet Union had The Battleship Potemkin after the 1905 revolution, Nosferatu came post World War 1 and the fall of Germany’s economy. Knife In The Water taps into the fear of emasculation that many of Poland’s men were coming to terms with, and delivers a masterpiece born out of pain and beauty that speaks to a nation, whilst legitimising cinema as art for all to enjoy. DL