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Film: Coeur Fidèle
Year of production: 1923
UK Release date: 27th June 2011
Distributor: Eureka!
Certificate: PG
Running time: 85 mins
Director: Jean Epstein
Starring: Léon Mathot, Gina Manès, Edmond Van Daële, Claude Benedict, Madame Maufroy
Genre: Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France
Language: French
Review by: Sarah Hill
With his 1923 film, Coeur Fidèle, director and film theorist Jean Epstein set out to create a simple story of love and violence which would win the confidence of those who believed that “only the lowest melodrama can interest the public.” He would create “... a melodrama so stripped of all the conventions ordinarily attached to the genre, so sober, so simple, that it might approach the nobility and excellence of tragedy.” Whilst the film may not have won favour with the general public in the way that he had hoped, in stripping back the conventions of the genre, Epstein created a melodrama which exhibited innovative uses of photography and editing techniques and makes a significant contribution to the style that would come to be known as ‘poetic realism’.
Marie (Gina Manès) works in a bar where she lives with the owner and his wife. She is the object of the desire of Petit Paul (Edmond Van Daële), a man who has only ever filled her with fear. Marie is forced to marry Petit Paul, even though she is in love with the gentle dockworker, Jean (Léon Mathot). Jean follows the couple to the fairground where the two men fight, which results in a policeman being stabbed. Petit Paul manages to get away but Jean is arrested and sent to prison.
A year later, on his release from prison, Jean tracks down Marie and discovers that she now lives with a perpetually drunk Petit Paul and their sick baby. Jean tries to help Marie with the assistance of her disabled neighbour (Marie Epstein). However, village gossips inform Petit Paul that Marie is planning to leave with Jean and he returns to the house for a violent confrontation, armed with a gun. During the struggle that ensues, the woman takes the gun and shoots Petit Paul...
Despite its narrative, Coeur Fidèle appears to be not so much a melodrama as an early social realist film. The characters inhabit a very working class milieu – Marie works in a pub owned by her family, where much of the early action takes place. Also, the idea that she is forced into and then trapped in a relationship with an undesirable man gives the film a very domestic feel. Not only does the film contain elements of social realism but it also arguably one of the earliest films to display characteristics of poetic realism, in which everyday sights acquire a transcendental form of beauty, which evokes comparisons with contemporary directors such as Pawlikowski. Each frame of Epstein’s film is like a photograph in which the characters are perfectly positioned. Nowhere is this more evident than during a scene in which Marie and her secret lover, Jean, sit on the cliff tops with their arms around each other, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as the waves gently crash around them in an image of absolute serenity. The way that Jean looks at Marie with his eyes full of longing is in stark contrast to Petit Paul’s lecherous leer, and says more about the relationship between Jean and Marie than dialogue ever could.
What is most striking about Coeur Fidèle, however, is its innovative use of editing, which is all the more impressive when one considers the fact that the film was made in 1923. Epstein frequently cuts rapidly between mid-shots to sudden close-ups of a character’s eyes or an aggressive fist. When witnessing these rapid cuts and extreme close-ups, it is almost impossible not to think of Luis Buñuel’s 1929 film Un Chien Andalou, and it is, therefore, unsurprising to learn that Buñuel worked as an assistant director to Epstein on his film Mauprat in 1926. In addition, as well as highly rapid editing, Epstein also utilises superimposition to convey the main ideas within the film, such as when Marie’s face is superimposed over an image of the waves at Marseille’s dockside, conveying the idea that the love between Marie and Jean is natural and offers a sense of freedom that she does not possess in her relationship with Petit Paul, which mostly takes place indoors and gives the impression of stifling confinement. Furthermore, the love between Marie and Jean is conveyed more overtly when Jean’s face is superimposed over the shape of a heart.
The highlight of Epstein’s use of editing within the film is undoubtedly the scene during which Marie and Petit Paul ride the carousels at the fairground. Epstein cuts quickly between images of the couple whirring around on the horses to the soaring hill tops and back to the ground, as it spins below Marie who is looking down towards it. Whilst typically the image of a couple riding a carousel, complete with soaring camerawork, would be used to connote the giddy exuberance of love, here it is used to convey the complete opposite. The sequence creates the feeling of relentless, stomach-churning motion because however much Marie wishes to escape the clutches of Petit Paul in order to live freely with Jean, she knows that she will never be able to. This sequence builds towards a tense crescendo until Petit Paul finally manages to kiss Marie roughly on the cheek and, in doing so, claim ownership of her. She belongs to him now.
Following this, the film becomes more conventional in style, and the focus is very much on narrative progression as Jean and Petit Paul fight, which results in Jean being sent to prison and Marie living with Petit Paul and having his baby. It is at this point that the film seems to become less captivating without the use of rapid editing to help maintain the pace established in earlier scenes. However, Epstein soon increases the dramatic tension once again as Jean attempts to rescue Marie with the help of her disabled neighbour. After her walking stick gets crushed as she tries to escape, the girl is forced to crawl up the stairs to the room where Marie and her baby are trapped by Petit Paul. The tension is unbearable as she slowly and painfully crawls up the stairs before finally managing to grab Petit Paul’s gun in order to shoot him.
In the film’s epilogue, Jean and Marie are shown to be reunited and are at the same fairground from earlier in the film. As Marie rests her head on Jean’s shoulder, the contrast between this scene and the previous fairground scene is remarkable; it’s as if the characters – and also the audience - are finally able to breathe. Coeur Fidèle closes with a title card that reads: “Love allows one to forget everything.” However, whilst Marie and Jean now appear to have everything they wanted, there is a weariness behind their eyes which suggests that too much has happened for them to simply forget.
Coeur Fidèle is a captivating film, despite the occasional lull. The simple story greatly facilitates the director’s experiments with camerawork and editing and it is visually very striking. Ultimately, the film is an early masterclass in film editing which contains some exquisite moments of poetic realism. It is a film which, today, appears to be quite ahead of its time. SH
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Film: Rio Breaks
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 3rd June 2011
Distributor: Mr. Bongo
Certificate: E
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Justin Mitchell
Genre: Documentary
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: USA
Language: Portuguese/English
Review by: Sarah Hill
At a quick glance, the new film by director Justin Mitchell, Rio Breaks, appears to be a documentary about the surfing culture in Rio de Janeiro. However, it soon becomes apparent that it is much more than that: it’s an examination of Rio’s youth-orientated gun crime culture that gives more than a nod to Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund’s 2002 film City Of God. More simply, it is also an exploration of adolescence.
Rio Breaks follows two young boys, 12-year-old Naama and 13-year-old Fabio, as they work towards competing in the annual surfing competition which could, potentially, offer them a sponsorship deal.
For these boys, and others like them, surfing is more than just a hobby: it’s a way out of Rio’s shanty towns, known as “The Hills”, where gun crime is rife. It’s the kind of place where, when confrontation arises, it’s impossible to guess who will shoot first – the police or the gang leaders. It’s a situation that both boys have firsthand experience of, having lost fathers and brothers to this pervading culture.
But as the build up to the competition escalates, can the boys’ friendship survive the constant lure of a life of crime, as well as the universal strain that comes as part of growing up?...
The film opens with the calming sound of waves infused with the gentle sound of Latin guitar. Two inquisitive young boys on their first ever boat trip are eagerly learning about an iconic patch of surf that very few have successfully rode from a group of older men whom they clearly look up to; these men were no doubt a lot like them a few years ago. The film then cuts to a series of fast-paced action shots of surfers. However, it soon becomes clear that these kinetic images are not just a celebration of surf culture; they also evoke a frantic sense of urgency because, as the voiceover informs us: “In Rio, surfing can save your life.”
In this part of one of Rio’s 500 shanty towns, a surf school has been set up in order to provide teenagers with free surfing lessons, so as to keep them away from Rio’s ever-present gun culture. With so few options available to them, it is little wonder that children like Naama and Fabio spend all their days on the beach. The appeal of the surf lifestyle is heightened by the careful juxtaposition of expansive shots of the beach with claustrophobic shots of the inside of the boys’ homes where most of the family reside. This sense of confinement is magnified by the fact that when one of the boys takes the documentary crew on a tour of his home, he stands on the spot and the camera doesn’t move an inch.
Despite their impoverished backgrounds, Naama and Fabio are like many teenage boys around the world; they spend all of their time together and engage in constant banter. Mitchell does an excellent job of depicting the relationship between them and ensures that their individual personalities are apparent throughout. Naama is sharp and cheeky and likes to make jokes, whereas Fabio is much more serious and likes to ponder over matters. This is demonstrated when the boys are shown playfully dangling their legs over a ledge and Fabio asks Naama: “Can you picture us falling from here?” Fabio’s morbid sentiments are hardly surprising given that he lost his father to Rio’s gun culture (which claims 15,000 victims per year) – he was killed by the gang he tried to leave. Although both boys talk about their experiences of gun crime in a worryingly relaxed manner, hearing Fabio describe how he felt when his father was killed is heartrending. It is moments such as these that give the film a depth which elevates it beyond a typical surfing documentary.
Despite this sadness, the film also contains some lovely comedic moments; such as when the narrator claims that, even though they are supposed to be practicing for the competition, the boys have “other things on their mind,” and Mitchell cuts to a shot of a beach full of bikini-clad girls. Girls are a frequent distraction for Naama, in particular, as he claims to have numerous girlfriends whom he likens to gum: “Once they stick, they’re hard to get off.”
However, it’s not just girls that are proving to be a distraction for the boys. As the film progresses, Naama and Fabio’s friendship is threatened by the lure of a life as a well-paid gang member. It seems as if life in a gang is a very real possibility for Fabio as he begins to spend less time surfing and more time fighting, eventually giving up surfing altogether. However, it is obvious that this new attitude arises from fear, as Fabio confesses that he is scared of dying. Although the film produces a few candid moments like this, it doesn’t always explore the feelings of the boys in as much detail as it could and sometimes their thoughts about their lives are skirted over somewhat.
Rio Breaks is an interesting and subtle documentary which unobtrusively follows two young boys as they strive to ensure that the gun crime which has blighted their past doesn’t destroy their future. As we witness them growing and changing in front of the camera, it seems that, sadly, for Naama and Fabio, this may prove to be more difficult than they had expected. SH
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Film: La Ville Louvre
Year of production: 1990
UK Release date: 1990
Distributor: Artificial Eye
Certificate: E
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Nicolas Philibert
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France
Language: French
Review by: Sarah Hill
The Louvre is arguably one of the world’s most well-known museums. It has dominated Paris since the late 12th century, expanding alongside the city itself. The Louvre has seen many structural additions and renovations over the years, particularly the introduction of the glass pyramid, built by I.M. Pei, which was officially opened on March 30th 1989. The pyramid is the focal point of the museum’s main axes of circulation and serves as an entrance to large reception hall beneath. It’s the vast amount of work that went into to renovating the Louvre and its exhibits which is the subject of this documentary by award-winning filmmaker Nicolas Philibert (Etre Et Avoir).
La Ville Louvre delves into the Louvre’s many passages and reserves as thousands of workers – from construction workers to cleaners – strive to ensure that the museum and its exhibitions are ready for the grand re-opening following the addition of the glass pyramid in the 1980s…
Uncertainty pervades the opening scenes of Nicolas Philibert’s La Ville Louvre. Lit only by the dim light of a torch, a shadowy figure walks slowly up some steps and pulls out a large set of keys with which he unlocks a door. The audience is being taken on a journey into another world – a city within a city – home to numerous priceless objects of art - unlike anything seen before.
As the documentary begins to delve into this unknown universe, the most striking thing is just how vast it really is. Indeed, the viewer is informed that at the time of filming, the Louvre had 15 km of underground passages, employed 1,200 employees and housed 300,000 works of art. However, despite this obvious grandeur, the film focuses mainly on the many people within this world who work to ensure that all the expositions are mounted and to the highest possible standard before the Louvre is re-opened to the public. One of the things that the film does well is how it conveys the extent of the staff’s commitment. In one particular scene, a team of six is required to lift one painting which, when laid flat, fills half the large room. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that certain members of staff are shown working out in the Louvre’s very own gym in order to be able to lift such cumbersome works of art.
It seems that the staff will do almost anything if it’s in the best interests of the museum and its art. They deliberate over every detail – even down to whether they wear the Yves Sant Laurent suits or something from another designer, because, as the manager tells them, at the Louvre, “You can do what you like, as long as you do things properly.” The dedication is palpable as the director repeatedly cuts back to a female member of staff sitting alone in a room, delicately restoring a painting with painstaking precision, with the light from the window behind her creating an almost celestial glow. This sense of divinity is reinforced by the fact that the works of art are treated with a large degree of reverence and they are nearly always the sole focus of the frame.
Despite the initial serious tone, the film also exhibits some very subtle comedic moments, as the film moves away from the majestic paintings to the more mundane aspects of working life at the Louvre, such as when they have to undergo fire safety and first aid training. Their blank stares as they are forced to stand around and be lectured until they are required to grapple with a fire extinguisher is something that almost any worker in the audience can relate to, and so it is difficult not to chuckle in recognition.
However, throughout the film, there is an overwhelming, inescapable feeling that something is missing: a voiceover. Whilst the decision to not include a voiceover is partly understandable, as the subject of the film is highly visual - this is reflected within the form of the film itself and the fact that it chooses to limit the use of audio codes - it makes the viewing experience just that bit more difficult. Without a voiceover, the film lacks context. The audience does not really learn anything about the subject of the film and it is difficult to feel any connection with the staff, particularly as they say very little - it feels as if we are merely observing them rather than becoming part of their unusual environment.
The objects themselves also lack context, as they are not viewed in their usual positions within an exhibition and it is possibly more difficult to appreciate them without having been given any further information. In addition, a voiceover would certainly help to give the film a better pace, as it can often be very repetitive: many scenes involve the workers quietly deliberating over where to position the same few paintings. Therefore, without a voiceover to move things along, the film feels as if it far exceeds its 84-minute running time.
La Ville Louvre has an interesting premise and, for a while at least, it is impossible not to be struck by the vastness and the sheer amount of work involved in running one of the world’s most famous museums. However, once the initial fascination has worn off, the film’s lack of pace and context means that even serious appreciators of art would struggle to remain enthralled by it. SH
Film: The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 30th May 2011
Distributor: Revolver
Certificate: 15
Running time: 79 mins
Director: Tiller Russell
Starring: Dwight Yoakam, Lizzy Caplan, Jon Foster, Cote de Pablo, Jason Priestley
Genre: Action/Drama/Western
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Canada
Language: English
Review by: Sarah Hill
The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride is the debut feature film of documentary maker Tiller Russell in which he aims to put a contemporary twist on the western genre. The film, which premiered at the Edinburgh Film Festival in 2010, was filmed in Canada with a modest budget of approximately $8 million.
In Mexico in the 1910s, outlaw Ransom Pride (Scott Speedman) is hunted down and shot after he kills a priest. His lover, Juliette Flowers (Lizzie Caplan), embarks on a mission to bring his body back home to Texas with the help of Ransom’s brother, Champ (Jon Foster).
However, Ransom’s body is being held by a Mexican Bruja (Cote de Pablo), the sister of the man he killed, as recompense, so Juliette offers to buy back Ransom’s body and soul with the blood of his brother. But the Pride brothers’ father, Reverend Pride (Dwight Yoakam), is determined not to let this happen...
Occasionally, a low budget film will overcome its limitations and acquire ‘cult’ status. The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride is not one of those films. The film attempts to establish itself as an edgy and contemporary western through its fast-paced, True Blood-esque opening credits. However, like much of the film, whilst Tiller’s intentions for the opening credits are clear, they miss the mark somewhat and are disorientating rather than impressive.
If the opening titles demonstrate anything about what is to follow, it’s that Tiller has a compulsive fascination with video-style jump cuts. This style of editing would work well if it was used sparingly, but Tiller makes the unusual and frustrating decision to recap the main events of every scene in a quick-fire, condensed form immediately afterwards, making the term ‘flashback’ seem all too literal. Furthermore, these ‘flashbacks’ are sepia-tinted to such an extent that they take on a muddy brown aesthetic. This is coupled with the fact that the scenes which take place in the present look overly grey and grainy. The film subsequently flits between the two aesthetics and, in doing so, prevents any sense of realism. Also, the film’s obligatory shoot-out is edited so frantically that looks more like a self-contained music video as opposed to a scene from a film.
The film’s lack of credibility is compounded by its two-dimensional characters. Bruja the witch doctor seems to remain in a permanent state of seething, spitting anger throughout the film, and the more ‘quirky’ characters such as The Dwarf, whose appearance borrows very heavily from Johnny Depp in the Pirates Of The Caribbean films, are not interesting enough to enable them to become good cult characters.
Lizzie Caplan, as Juliette, gives what is probably the best performance in the film, although this is no doubt aided by the fact that the other performances are very weak. Caplan’s dark and fierce eyes adequately convey Juliette’s determination to bring Ransom home for burial and she is obviously a very strong woman. It is disappointing, therefore, that when given the chance to subvert convention by creating a strong female protagonist, in what is traditionally a very masculine genre, Juliette Flowers is frequently presented as little more than a sex object. She also makes some disappointingly obvious, yet uncharacteristic decisions throughout the film. For example, her decision to embark on a relationship with Ransom’s shy brother is a lazy plot device and arguably a decision that does not befit her character.
As well as being rather obviously plotted, the film’s dialogue is also very clunky and clichéd. When ordering his men to track down and kill Juliette, Reverend Pride says that he doesn’t care what they do to her, but just “make sure she ain’t breathing when you’ve finished.” Similarly, the closing line of the film, a quote from Ransom Pride himself, is equally as banal: “I was always a lover, despite the killings.”
It is clear that The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride wished to be thought of as a subversive western with cult status. However, whilst the film does contain impressive photography on the odd occasion - such as the fairly poetic shots of the sun shining over the plains - its infuriating over-reliance on flashy editing techniques, poor plot, uninspiring characters and clunky dialogue means that the film ruins any potential that it may have had. If the film teaches us anything, it’s that there is a fine line between a ‘cult’ film and a bad film, and, sadly, The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride belongs on the wrong side of that line. SH
Film: All Boys
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 23rd May 2011
Distributor: Bounty
Certificate: 18
Running time: 73 mins
Director: Markku Heikkinen
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Finland/Denmark
Language: German/English/Czech
Review by: Sarah Hill
There’s something very artificial about the porn industry. Porn film scenarios are improbable and the clunky dialogue sounds false. And regardless of whether the actors are simulating sex or engaging in the act itself, the way sex is represented in porn films is largely unrealistic. Amidst all this artificiality, it’s often easy to forget that these films star real people with real emotions. All Boys seeks to explore how these performers feel about working in the porn industry, and to what extent they are being exploited.
In Eastern Europe in the 1990s, the fall of the Soviet Union and the Iron Curtain meant that there were a number of young males who were uneducated, economically disadvantaged and eager to make money. This did not go unnoticed by producer George Duroy, who went on to found production company Bel Ami and turn Prague into the capital of gay porn.
The film follows producer Dan Komar, the man credited with creating the country’s first series of “bareback” films, and the young boys he casts in his films. All the boys are aged around 18-20, including Ruda, who is better known by his stage name, Aaron Hawke, due to his resemblance to the actor Ethan Hawke...
Perhaps the most striking thing about this documentary examining Prague’s porn industry is its lack of pornographic images. Many of what few graphic images there are in the film fly past in a whir and a blur, as if to acknowledge the fact that consumers are saturated with explicit images and it is the people behind them who are most important. In recognition of this, the film produces some fascinating character studies about those who are working in the industry. Producer Dan Komar is a typically exploitative producer – he chooses all the boys personally and, despite making a considerable amount of money, pays them very little. He also, rather sinisterly, lives with the boys as if they were a ‘family’.
Dan is quite an ambiguous character because although he is clearly treating the boys as commodities, he does seem to love them in his own way. Furthermore, not only is Dan ambiguous, he is also a mass of contradictions. He asserts that his decision to live with the boys is not a “Peter Pan thing;” it’s not a desperate attempt to keep himself young. However, he goes on to say that he had so much fun at the age of 27 that he decided to remain at that age. It’s very difficult to know what to believe. One suspects that even Dan doesn’t know what the truth it anymore: the truth is whatever he has convinced himself it is.
At times, Dan does evoke some sympathy from the viewer, particularly when he talks about his loneliness and how the most important thing in life is to “be in the arms of someone you care about.” It seems that, at least for a while, Ruda was a cure for Dan’s loneliness when they embarked on a three-year relationship. At the beginning of the film, Ruda is the Zac Efron of the “bareback” porn films. After growing up in a children’s home, his angelic features ensured that he became the biggest star within Prague’s porn industry. He has a certain self-assuredness that comes from both youth and from being part of Dan’s lucrative world of porn, where saying “I love you can get you a new pair of Armani jeans.” Ruda dreams of many things: to be a “big star like Jim Carrey” and, perhaps most poignantly, “to start a normal life without Dan.”
Although the film focuses mainly on the human aspect of the industry, through its exploration of the feelings of those involved – and rightly so – it also provides some interesting cultural analysis about the birth of the porn industry in Eastern Europe and how it symbolised the sense of freedom and liberation that existed after the fall of the Berlin Wall. In addition, the voiceover informs that during the mid-2000s, there were approximately 3,000 gay porn films produced worldwide and 2,000 of those were Czech, which reinforces just how successful the industry was at its peak. The voiceover also states that porn could not exist without the “free consumer.” However, with the increasing abundance of free online porn, the consumer soon went elsewhere and, within ten years, the Czech porn scene had “greedily eaten itself up.”
But once the industry imploded, what became of the boys who made it what it was? Some, like Filip, are fine - for the most part - and are able to build a relatively normal life for themselves. Others, like Ruda, did not fare so well. Although the distressing outcome of Ruda’s short time in the industry was likely given his background, it is still a shock. The cut from the image of Dan talking to the image of Ruda in the present forcibly jolts the viewer. To witness the extent of his decline is devastating; it is clear that unless he gets help urgently, his life is over - and he’s only in his mid twenties. It is a shame, therefore, that this section of the film feels slightly rushed. The filmmaker could have afforded to spend more time examining just how these boys were affected by the industry, as it seems that this is the whole point of the film. However, whilst the final few scenes may pass by too quickly, one thing is clear: the industry that greedily ate itself up swallowed up boys like Ruda and spewed them back out, leaving them with nothing.
All Boys lets itself down slightly due to the fact that too much time is spent focusing on those who produce the films when more time could have been given to exploring the affect that being part of the industry had on its former stars. The film is also not as visually interesting as it could have been. Despite this, All Boys is both compelling and heartbreaking. In this documentary about the porn industry, it is not the use of explicit imagery that is the most shocking aspect, but rather the extent to which those working within the industry are exploited. SH
Film: Blind Date
Year of production: 1996
UK Release date: 9th May 2011 (part of The Theo Van Gogh Collection)
Distributor: Network
Certificate: 15
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Theo van Gogh
Starring: Renée Fokker, Peer Mascini, Roeland Fernhout, Wouter Brave, Jan Jaspers
Genre: Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Netherlands
Language: Dutch
Review by: Sarah Hill
When Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh died in 2004, aged 47, he left behind a controversial legacy. A relative of the renowned artist, Vincent van Gogh, Theo van Gogh was a provocative newspaper columnist who was a staunch advocate of freedom of speech and used his columns as a platform from which to voice his opinions about well-known public figures. He was particularly critical of the treatment of women in some Islamic societies. This was highly evident within his 2004 film Submission, for which he received numerous death threats. Theo van Gogh was assassinated by Dutch-Moroccan Mohammed Bouyeri on 2nd November 2004. Van Gogh’s life story is certainly dramatic; therefore, it is little wonder that in the years following his death, Hollywood has remade some of his most well-known films, giving him the kind of international recognition that he never received during his lifetime. However, on 9th May 2011, Network Releasing are releasing the first DVD collection of van Gogh’s work in the UK (The Theo Van Gogh Collection), which features arguably some of his best films. The first film in this three-film collection is the 1996 film Blind Date.
Pom (Peer Mascini) is a failed comedian. His wife, Katja (Renée Fokker) is still mourning the death of their 3-year-old daughter. They regularly pretend to be other people by placing adverts in the ‘lonely hearts’ column of their local newspaper, all of which are targeted at each other. With their new personas, they go on weekly dates, often to the same bar, under the observant gaze of the same barman (Roeland Fernhout).
The film is narrated by their deceased child, whose voice innocently informs the viewer that “mum and dad like to play games” and explores the couple’s attempts to simultaneously escape their grief and reconnect with each other...
Blind Date has a very interesting premise in that it examines the relationship between a couple who, it seems, can only communicate with each other when they are pretending to be other people. The film also has a pervading sense of darkness. This is evident from some of the earliest scenes within the film. On the first date that takes place within the lifespan of the film, we witness Pom, as a barman, chatting to Katja in a bar. It begins as a typically flirtatious conversation between a barman and a female costumer. However, it soon becomes much more menacing as Pom decides to tell Katja some ‘truths’ and refuses to let her leave by forcing her to partake in karaoke. The image of Katja sobbing as she sings jars greatly with Pom’s dancing to an upbeat song. It’s like witnessing a car crash: horrible to watch, but almost impossible to look away from.
The unease continues as each date reveals more and more painful details about their past, such as the fact that Pom once raped Katja. This is act of violence is mentioned on numerous occasions and forms a significant part of the verbal battles which take place between the couple. Their differing perspectives convey that they really don’t understand each other; they are talking at each other rather than to each other. During a scene in which they go dancing, Katja tells Pom: “You’re out of step.” This line succinctly sums up the characters, for they are not just out of step with the music, but out of step with each other. As they dance, the camera swirls around them; it’s highly unsettling and the circular motion seems to suggest that there is no end to their verbal and emotional battles - they are trapped.
However, the fact that the film depicts two people locked in constant conflict with each other means that it does, at times, lack pace, as the conversations tend to be very repetitive, and although this adds to the feeling of confinement within the film, it can also become somewhat irritating. There is also a sense that the same effect could have been achieved with fewer dates and a slightly shorter running time.
Despite the film’s claustrophobic and sinister feel, it does contain a number of comedic moments, albeit of the very dark kind. When Pom places an advert stating: “Serious reporter seeks aggressive woman,” he goes along to meet Katja at a restaurant, where she greets him with a forceful and well-timed punch to the face. The film’s blend of menace and humour calls for good performances from its actors and Renée Fokker, in particular, doesn’t disappoint. She moves effortlessly through a range of emotions, such as anger, grief, love and hate, and serves to make the film’s ending all the more convincing.
Blind Date is an unusual and interesting film, which is dark, unsettling and claustrophobic. Ultimately, however, it is a tragic film and although its ending is almost inevitable, this makes it no less upsetting. SH
Film: Interview
Year of production: 2003
UK Release date: 9th May 2011 (part of The Theo Van Gogh Collection)
Distributor: Network
Certificate: 15
Running time: 89 mins
Director: Theo van Gogh
Starring: Katja Schuurman, Pierre Bokma, Theo Maassen, Ellen Ten Damme, Michiel de Jong
Genre: Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Netherlands
Language: Dutch
Review by: Sarah Hill
2003’s Interview is the last film within The Theo Van Gogh Collection. Whilst many may be more familiar with the 2007 remake starring Sienna Miller and Steve Buscemi, the Dutch original clearly exhibits van Gogh’s auteurist characteristics – dramatic two-handers between a man and a woman who engage in verbal battles – to such an extent that it becomes almost self-referential. Interview is also perhaps the most naturalistic of the three films in this collection, largely due to the fact that it was filmed over five nights in the real-life apartment of its star, Katja Shuurman.
On the night the government collapses, serious political journalist Pierre Peters (Pierre Bokma) is sent to interview the Netherlands’ biggest female soap opera star, much to his chagrin. However, Katja (Katja Schuurman) soon dispels all of his preconceptions about film female stars as the pair engage in an intense battle of wits.
Both of are in procession of enormous secrets and each one is determined to find out what the other is hiding...
It has to be said that Interview begins on a very comical note. As cynical journalist Pierre Peders greets Katja from her car, she appears to embody all his preconceived notions regarding female actresses: pretty but vacant - all “air, sawdust and silicon.” So ditzy, in fact, that she accidently leaves the handbrake off and has to react quickly to prevent the car from rolling away (this was allegedly a real error made by actress Katja Schuurman during filming that van Gogh decided to leave in the final edit). However, appearances can be deceptive and once the interview begins, Katja proves just how smart she really is. Van Gogh cuts steadily between equal close-ups of the pair, as they sit opposite each other, face-to-face, awarding them equal status, as Katja watches Pierre with narrowed eyes, all the time trying to find out as much about him as he knows about her.
It is obvious that Katja is highly astute. She knows exactly what kind of role is expected of her and – as she lounges in deliberately seductive poses - she proves that she knows just how to perform this role. It seems that this idea of performance is the strongest thread which runs through all of the films in the collection. However, in behaving in this manner, she is also clearly mocking the role that the media has forced her into. She claims that men like women to wear fishnet stockings and heels because it means that the woman “has trouble walking and she is imprisoned in those nets,” and in making this assertion, she is reflecting on the inherently patriarchal structure of the film industry and the objectification of women in cinema.
In addition to interesting characters, another fascinating feature of the film is the fact that, unlike the other films in The Theo Van Gogh Collection, it is very kinetic. It’s certainly a lot less claustrophobic, but this does not mean that the film lacks intensity. Van Gogh indulges in a three-camera set up to capture everything in the mise-en-scène, as Katja strides from room to room in an electrifying performance that fizzes and sparks as if she is constantly close to erupting. Indeed, there is even often a punch bag hanging from the ceiling, which is visible in many of the wide shots, as a sign of the verbal sparring that is taking place between the characters, as they continuously try to break each other down in an attempt to force the other person to reveal their dark secret.
As the verbal sparring escalates, so does the tension. Pierre and Katja communicate via a series of quick-fire responses, which, at times, display slightly sinister sexual undertones, as their faces are almost pressed against together, with Kajta even going as far as to frantically kiss Pierre. However, it is never clear what the characters’ true feelings towards one another are because they are adept performers who are accustomed to getting what they want.
They continue to tease each other, with Katja going as far as to ask: “Is this some kind of word game?” It is because this is what van Gogh does best. He keeps the viewer guessing until the end; it’s never entirely clear who is ultimately going to win until the final minutes of the film and only then is the viewer allowed to breathe. The serene and soulful sound of Dusty Springfield singing ‘See All Her Faces’, which accompanies the closing credits, is the perfect antidote to the tension within the film, whilst simultaneously paying tribute to all that has preceded this moment by acknowledging that there are many more aspects to Katja, and also to Pierre, than first though.
Interview is certainly the most accomplished film in The Theo Van Gogh Collection. It contains excellent performances from its protagonists, with Pierre Bokma’s calm manner providing the perfect contrast to Katja Shuurman’s frenzied emotional state. The film has great pace, which is sometimes lacking in the other films, and it utilises van Gogh’s key themes most fully. Completed only a year before Theo van Gogh died, it is a reminder that European cinema lost a superb filmmaker. SH
Film: 1-900
Year of production: 2004
UK Release date: 9th May 2011 (part of The Theo Van Gogh Collection)
Distributor: Network
Certificate: 15
Running time: 87 mins
Director: Theo van Gogh
Starring: Ariane Schluter, Ad van Kempen
Genre: Drama/Romance
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Netherlands
Language: Dutch
Review by: Sarah Hill
If the film choices for The Theo Van Gogh Collection demonstrate anything, it’s that the director’s work is defined by a very specific set of characteristics. His films are often claustrophobic domestic dramas played out between two characters, usually a man and woman, in order to highlight the importance of communication. They are also usually concerned with the ideas of fantasy and performance. These elements were clearly evident within the first film from this collection, Blind Date (1996), but they were firmly established two years before in 1-900, originally titled 06.
Theo van Gogh’s 1-900 tells the story of two professionals, Thomas (Ad van Kempen) and Sarah (Ariane Schluter), who meet through a phone sex line. Although they promise to never meet in person, they embark on an unusual relationship as they call each other every Thursday.
However, what starts off as a way for two lonely people to have some fun and indulge in their sexual fantasies suddenly becomes altogether more sinister...
An automated message plays over a black screen. The viewer is told to dial a selection number. “Hello, my name is Sarah, 30, with a higher education in every respect,” says a female voice. “I just love margaritas, bobsleigh and the smell of gasoline. My number is 3054.”
That’s it. That’s the audience’s introduction to the female protagonist. The viewer is then introduced to Thomas in a similar manner. It’s clear from this introduction that 1-900 has a very specific, stylised set-up: the emphasis is very much on the spoken word and the unreliable nature of phone conversations. This is highlighted very cleverly at the start of the film because even when the viewer is introduced to the characters visually, they are filmed in near darkness: Thomas sits at a desk in total darkness whilst Sarah is shown in silhouette, facing away from the camera. A small glimmer of red in each frame hinting at the possibility of danger. However, even without the benefit of lighting, it is obvious that these characters are not at all like the people they are claiming to be.
As their conversations progress, they become increasingly sexual and the line between performance and reality begins to blur as Thomas and Sarah start to adopt the appearance of the personas that they have constructed for themselves. During one phone call, Sarah lounges seductively in the sexy underwear she is always telling Thomas about whilst he continues with his mundane work. This is then immediately followed by another phone call in which Thomas is shown working out in his gym clothes, presumably in an attempt to get the body that he has told Sarah he already has, whilst she flicks idly through a magazine. The juxtaposition of these two scenes creates a welcome moment of subtle comedy, something which van Gogh is particularly good at.
Whilst the conversations between the pair grow ever more sexual, they also begin to display highly sinister undertones, another of van Gogh’s common traits. At one point, Thomas conducts a ‘sex survey’ by asking Sarah greatly inappropriate questions, telling her: “I’m in your life; I’m in your soul.” This line reveals just how emotionally attached to one another they have become and expertly captures the sinister sense of claustrophobia within the film, a feeling which is also encouraged by the camera work. Nearly every shot is a close-up and the characters are often framed by shelves and other furniture, which serves to enhance the film’s sense of confinement. It seems that the characters cannot escape the situation they have created and neither can the audience; they, too, are wholly part of this self-contained world. Although this claustrophobia is one of the film’s strengths, it is also, to an extent, one of its weaknesses. The entire film is a series of phone calls between the characters; the viewer is never offered the chance to escape, the chance to breathe. Therefore, the film often feels slightly repetitive, particularly with regards to the countless occurrences of masturbation, which soon become tiresome.
On the other hand, the aforementioned weaknesses within the film are tamed largely by the performances of the actors. Ariane Schluter, in particular, gives an emotional yet realistic performance. Without giving away any spoilers, her performance during the film’s final few scenes is very engaging, as she moves from her usual flirtatious manner to stunned and devastated after being told something which hits her like a punch in the stomach. The full force of this is also felt by the viewer, as the camera remains focused on her throughout.
Although its subject matter won’t be to everyone’s taste, 1-900 is a well-constructed, well-acted film which displays many of the hallmarks of van Gogh’s work. Whilst it may run for slightly longer than it should, it nevertheless evokes the strong sense of claustrophobia experienced by two people who have become dangerously attached to one another, locked in a an emotional battle that can only end when one of them hangs up the phone for good. SH
Film: The World Unseen
Year of production: 2007
UK Release date: 9th May 2011
Distributor: Enlightenment
Certificate: 12
Running time: 91 mins
Director: Shamim Sarif
Starring: Lisa Ray, Sheetal Sheth, Parvin Dabas, Nandana Sen, David Dennis
Genre: Drama/Romance
Format: DVD
Country of Production: South Africa/UK
Language: English
Review by: Sarah Hill
The World Unseen is the debut feature from director Shamim Sarif. The film is an adaptation of her 2001 novel of the same name. Somewhat unusually, Sarif chose to write and direct the adaptation of her novel herself. The film explores the themes of race, gender and sexuality – themes which also seem to permeate into her later work.
Set in Cape Town, South Africa, during the Apartheid era in the 1950s, The World Unseen tells the story of two very different Indian women who form a strong friendship, and eventually a relationship, amidst the oppression.
Miriam (Lisa Ray) is an Indian wife and mother to three young children. Her life is dictated by strict rules – she must maintain the perfect house and be subservient to her husband, Omar (Parvin Dabas), who is not adverse to using violence to discipline his wife. By contrast, Amina (Sheetal Sheth) is a free spirit who refuses to conform to society’s rules. Not only does she chose not to conform to traditional gender roles by dressing in a masculine manner, which was highly unusual for the time, she also demonstrates a complete disregard for the strict segregation laws that existed during the apartheid by running a cafe alongside her black business partner, Jacob (David Dennis).
After meeting one day in the cafe, it is not long before an unlikely bond forms between the two women as Amina attempts to show Miriam a world she has never seen...
“I wish I knew how it would feel to be free” sings Nina Simone over the film’s opening titles. It’s a song which sets the tone of the film perfectly. All of the characters are trapped by rigid rules and regulations and it is this exploration of the oppression that defined this era in South Africa’s history which is one of the film’s main strengths. Those who might not be all that familiar with the film’s social and historical context can’t help but be shocked at just how repressive South African society was during this time. Black people were forced to remain separate from everyone else in public and were denied fundamental rights - the reality of this becomes apparent when police forces threaten to kill Amina and Jacob for breaking segregation laws by serving black customers, which reinforces the extent to which they are endangering their own lives in order to uphold their beliefs.
However, it is not just racial repression which is clearly conveyed within the film. The confines of gender are also adequately explored. Miriam’s role within the household is clearly defined. So much so that it is clear that Omar, as the head of the household, has very little involvement in the day-to-day activities of his children’s upbringing. This is evident within a mildly humorous yet highly decisive exchange in which, after telling his children to do their homework, his young son reminds him that his daughter doesn’t have homework – “she’s only 5.”
In some ways, like Miriam, Amina is also confined by the rules of gender because even though she does not abide by them, in choosing to deviate from society’s idea of the norm, she is putting her life at risk, which means that she is not free to openly explore her sexuality within a same-sex relationship. However, for the most part, the two women are the antithesis of each other – Miriam’s stilted wariness stands in stark contrast to Amina’s calm confidence. This dichotomy evokes some engaging performances from the female protagonists. There is also an obvious chemistry between them as they try to conceal their relationship through surreptitious touches.
Like many films within the period romance genre, The World Unseen boasts glossy production values. However, these can, at times, have quite a distancing effect, as the film’s soft-focus aesthetic dilutes the harsh and oppressive reality of the characters’ lives to an extent. Also, the characters themselves feel lifeless. Miriam’s sister, who is having an affair with her husband, fills her screen time with sultry pouts in a performance which borders on melodramatic. Also, the protagonists themselves are so diametrically opposed that they appear to serve solely to represent the issues within the film, rather than to exist within their own right.
The film also relies rather heavily on symbolism which is far from subtle. The couple conduct their relationship under the pretence that Amina is giving Miriam driving lessons, which comes across as a slightly heavy-handed attempt to reinforce the idea that is central to the film – Amina is providing Miriam with the freedom and independence that she currently lacks in order to enable her to ‘steer’ the course of her own life.
While The World Unseen is an interesting exploration of a highly oppressive society, which demonstrates that gender was, and to an extent still is, just as repressive as race. However, there is a sense that The World Unseen works better as a novel rather than a film. Despite having an auteur-like influence on the work, which comes from the fact that Sarif wrote and directed the film, as well as the original novel, she fails to bring anything new to the genre, particularly in terms of aesthetics. Despite the potential of the unusual subject matter, The World Unseen is an ultimately lifeless film which fails to engage. SH
Film: Unmistaken Child
Release date: 11th April 2011
Certificate: E
Running time: 102 mins
Director: Nati Baratz
Starring: Tenzin Zopa
Genre: Documentary
Studio: Matchbox
Format: DVD
Country: Israel
This is a majority English-language release.
Could you give up your child for a religion you truly believed in? That is the question posed by documentary filmmaker Nati Baratz in his latest film.
When Tibetan Buddhist master Geshe Lama Konchong died in 2001 after twenty-six years of isolated meditation in a remote mountain retreat, the Dalai Lama instructed his most dedicated disciple, Tenzin Zopa, to search for his reincarnation. Unmistaken Child follows his journey as he travels the Tsum Valley to find the baby whom he believes is his master’s reincarnation with only a series of signs and dreams to guide him.
After meeting many children, Tenzin meets a 1-year-old boy who is so attached to the rosary beads that belonged to Tenzin’s deceased master that he steadfastly refuses to give them back, claiming that they are his. Tenzin is sure that he has found the right child, so he takes him to meet the Dalai Lama, who gives the child a series of tests which he believes will prove that this baby is the reincarnation of Geshe Lama Konchong. But will the Dalai Lama agree and, more importantly, if the baby is the reincarnation of the Tibetan Buddhist master, will his parents be able to hand him over to a life in the monastery...?
One of the most striking features about the documentary Unmistaken Child is the lack of voice-over. Whilst it is an unusual omission for a documentary, in this case, the film is greatly enhanced by its absence. At first, it seems as if the purpose of this is to draw attention to the beautiful scenic shots of Nepal, creating a sense of serenity which corresponds with the tranquillity of the Buddhist faith. However, as the film progresses, it becomes apparent that this subversion of a generic convention does so much more. The lack of voice-over means that the film never judges its characters; it lets them tell the story.
Furthermore, by doing this, Baratz ensures that the audience is drawn directly into this fascinating and little known world as seen by the people who inhabit it. This means that, at times, Unmistaken Child is incredibly moving. When Tenzin goes back to the retreat where he had lived with ‘Geshe-La’ since he was a young boy of 7 years old, the camera holds his face in a close-up as he struggles to comprehend his loss. He is so overcome with emotion that he can barely speak through his tears, except to say that, when Geshe-La was there, the retreat was beautiful but “now everything has gone.” It is at this point that the film transforms from a film about something that is far removed from most people’s experiences into something that many people can relate to. For it is during this scene that it becomes evident that despite his unusual lifestyle, Tenzin is grieving for the loss of someone he looked up to as a parent figure – and that is something that affects all of us at some point during our lives.
As well as allowing the audience to relate to the subjects of the documentary, the film also sheds light on the concept of Buddhism in a way that is fascinating. It’s obvious that in being asked to find his master’s reincarnation, Tenzin has been given an overwhelming task. As he travels the valley in search of the special baby, he is treated like a celebrity; people clamour to catch a glimpse of the young man who was so close to the greatly respected Geshe-La. It’s rather surprising just how many families are keen to prove that their child is the one that he is searching for. In one particularly humorous scene, an elderly grandmother desperately tries to convince Tenzin that her grandson is a special baby because, unlike her other grandchildren, he had a very easy delivery.
However, the film reaches a new emotional level when Tenzin meets the baby whom he believes is his master’s reincarnation. From the first time that the little baby fiercely clings on to the rosary beads through to his impressive performance in the ‘tests’ set by the Dalai Lama, Tenzin’s excitement is palpable and the idea that he could be the reincarnation of the Tibetan Buddhist master is highly believable. Also, as the bond between them grows, it seems as if Tenzin could be just as dedicated to mentoring the child as Geshe-La was to him.
Of course, as the film never fails to show, there are two sides to every story and even though the little boy is shown to be impressively bright and almost special, he is also a typically boisterous toddler who likes to run around outdoors. His normality is reinforced during a scene in which Tenzin is unable to comfort him when he has a nosebleed and his father must teach him what to do. It is here that the audience are reminded that despite Tenzin’s belief that this little boy is destined to dedicate his life to Buddhism, he also has parents who love him unconditionally and want to do what’s right for him. The scene in which they silently deliberate whether to give up their child for the religion they strongly believe in, knowing that they are unlikely to ever see him again, is unbearably tense and utterly heartbreaking. It’s an impossible decision and one that they never imagined they would have to make.
Unmistaken Child is a beautifully shot film that illuminates its subject in a way that is truly captivating. It is also an entirely objective film that refuses to judge the actions of its characters, which makes the questions that is raises all the more difficult to answer. SH
Film: A Swedish Love Story
Release date: 21st March 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 115 mins
Director: Roy Andersson
Starring: Ann-Sofie Kylin, Rolf Sohlman, Anita Lindblom, Bertil Norstrom, Lennart Tellfelt
Genre: Drama/Romance
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Sweden
Those who are familiar with director Roy Andersson’s more surrealist work may be surprised by his debut feature. In A Swedish Love Story, Andersson explores the heady mix of confusion and delirium that can only ever be caused by that first teenage romance. Although it is a theme that has been explored by many a director, arguably few have done it as well as Roy Andersson.
A Swedish Love Story revolves around two teenagers, 15-year-old Par and 13-year-old Annika, who meet when on an outing with their respective families and proceed to fall in love over the course of the summer.
During this time, they are oblivious to the problems within their families, concerned only with their own feelings for each other.
The film culminates with the two families meeting for the first time at Par’s house in the countryside...
Some experiences in life are universal. Regardless of their generation, it’s pretty safe to say that every 15-year-old wishes they were 25 and everyone over the age of 25 wishes they were 15. There is also a good chance that, at some point, between the ages of 15 and 25, everyone falls in love to some extent. It is this universality that endears audiences to A Swedish Love Story some forty-one years after it was first released. Therefore, despite the film’s many retro features, such as the fact that much of the action takes place in diners with pinball machines and the cast wear leather jackets that were last seen on John Travolta in Grease, the underlying premise of the film is just as applicable today as it was all those years ago.
The film opens with Par trying out various boxing moves and smoking poses in front of a mirror, an image which sums up the two lead characters perfectly. Like many teenagers, they spend their time languishing against walls and smoking whilst casting surreptitious glances at each other in a desperate attempt to look sophisticated. And yet, when they try to communicate with each other (at least in the early instances), they cannot find the words and it is left to their friends to pass messages back and forth. This childlike adultness is expertly and subtly conveyed through wholly convincing and likeable performances by Rolf Sohlman and Ann-Sofie Kylin as Par and Annika respectively.
As well as highly naturalistic performances, the film also boasts beautiful photography where even the most mundane scenes are romanticised by Jörgen Persson’s camera. The scene in which Par and his friends are riding their scooters at sunset, lit only by the glow of their headlights, creates a dusky, hazy mise-en-scène and reflects the world in a way in which only two people in love can view it.
Not only do Par and Annika view the world differently, they also create their own world which excludes everything and everyone else. When Annika’s parents go away for the weekend, they adopt the house as their own and remain completely oblivious to everything outside of it. They only have time for each other. The camera is respectful of this as it swoops and swirls from the street into their bedroom window to capture them dancing together. It’s as if it cannot help but get caught up in giddy feelings of love and romance emanating from the characters. This feeling is also heightened by the romantic soundtrack, which increases and then decreases in tempo in accordance with the movement of the camera.
Moreover, the innocence of the protagonists is heightened by weary cynicism of the adults in the film. Anika’s aunt, Eva, laments her failed ambitions to be an air stewardess, whilst her father is a salesman beaten by capitalism who tells his daughter that “money is everything.” Thanks to the cocoon they’ve created for themselves, Par and Annika remain oblivious to the mounting pressure that exists within their families. This pressure reaches its crescendo when the two families meet officially, which brings the narrative full circle. It is here that Andersson’s more absurdist tendencies can be observed and the final scene culminates with Annika’s father going missing because he can no longer bear the stain. As the search party returns, Annika asks Par about what might have been going on as neither of them witnessed the commotion: “I think they just went fishing,” he says. This wonderfully innocent line brilliantly reflects the theme of the film and its characters - it’s about two teenagers who are so young and so besotted with each other that they have yet to experience the harsh reality of the world. And as the credits roll, one can only hope that they are allowed to remain this way for a little while longer.
A Swedish Love Story is a charming film whose cyclical narrative mirrors the enclosed world that its two young protagonists create for themselves. The captivating performances and the camerawork all expertly evoke the innocence and excitement of teenage love in a way that you can’t help but warm to. SH
