REVIEW: Cinema Release: Incendies

Film: Incendies
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 24th June 2011
Distributor: Trinity
Certificate: 15
Running time: 132 mins
Director: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Lubna Azabal, Mélissa Désormeaux-Poulin, Maxim Gaudette, Rémy Girard, Abdelghafour Elaaziz
Genre: Drama/Mystery/War
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: Canada/France
Language: French/Arabic/English

Review by: Natalie Meziani

Adapted from the play ‘Scorched’ by Wajdi Mouawad, Incendies has been brought to the screen by Québécoise director Denis Villeneuve in this harrowing full-length feature. The film battles its way through a powerful shower of revelations in order to explore the fruitful life of Nawal Marwan, as her twin children return to their Arabic homeland to fulfil her dying wish.

Incendies begins with Canadian twins Simon and Jeanne receiving the will of their mother, Nawal, providing them with some bizarre burial instructions and a pair of unopened envelopes for them to deliver. Nawal asks the twins to return to her native soil in search of a father they had believed to be dead and a brother they didn’t know existed in order to deliver one letter to each. It is only then that she may be buried properly, for without this final act she claims that she is not worthy of the privilege of a grave.

In order to carry out their search, the twins are obliged to learn the facts of their mother’s past by exploring the place where she was brought up. Simon is initially reluctant to participate, but Jeanne immediately finds herself in the Middle East in search of her mother’s truth. This facilitates the revelation of crucial moments in Nawal’s life which they could never have even dreamt, painting a detailed and painful picture in order to gradually understand how to find their father and brother.

The twins soon realise that they do not know their mother at all. The events which she has endured have been completely buried during her time in Canada. We progressively construct her life through largely horrific chronological flashbacks, including Nawal giving birth after being raped during her 15-year imprisonment for shooting a political leader. The final scene surpasses the many shocking events witnessed during Nawal’s life, taking the audience miles past the point of comfortable fiction, but definitely into the territory of a masterpiece...


It is increasingly rare that visual art can have such a large part in the creation of emotion, and cinematographer André Turpin plays a brilliant role in executing this. The muted colour used in the depiction of Nawal’s life adds a subtle beauty to her horrendous past; creating a tone of sadness in the fact that such courage could ever exist. The transitions from present activity to flashbacks of Nawal’s life are allocated chapter headings, slammed onto the screen in a stark red lettering which further adds to the film’s strong character.

The political content implies that Nawal’s experiences occur in Lebanon, although no country is ever named. This suggests that the film is making a sweeping statement about the difficulties of war-infused life rather than making a point about Lebanese history, allowing Incendies the ability to uphold a widespread poignancy. This universal appeal undoubtedly places Villeneuve amongst the best of world-class film directors.

Villeneuve regularly uses still shots filled with crushing silence, which are almost necessary in allowing the viewer to digest each morsel of devastation before the next scene takes place. The use of Radiohead in the soundtrack haunts the screen and enhances the story’s distress, which is particularly well-placed in the opening scene. Such a huge contemporary band also links Incendies to the present era, giving us a larger capacity to be empathetically shocked.

The shattering pain of Nawal is spoken through the eyes of Lubna Azabal in some of the most moving acting to grace Canadian cinema; her manipulation of each individual trauma is exquisite. Maxim Gaudette plays the lesser tolerant twin Simon, while Mélissa Désormeaux-Poulin is the more determined Jeanne. The two create a delicately believable onscreen sibling chemistry, allowing the story to strike a chord in the audience’s hearts. Even minor characters in Incendies are incredibly apt at building emotion within scenes; there is such raw and realistic passion present in all the performances that one could easily assume they are acting out a true story based on themselves. The film’s biggest punch is based on an outlandish coincidence, and yet its creditability is not tainted thanks to the perfection presented by the script and acting.


Incendies has an abundance of awards under its belt and a Best Foreign Language Oscar nomination. This comes as no surprise. The film follows an explosive path of grandeur; it is dramatic, it is overstated, and it is drawn out. But the entire package is of such a high standard that it is necessary in all its excess – the austere visual and emotional content is of the highest calibre. NM 

REVIEW: Cinema Release: Rio Breaks

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

REVIEW: Cinema Release: The Round Up

Film: The Round Up
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 17th June 2011
Distributor: Revolver
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 115 mins
Director: Rose Bosch
Starring: Jean Reno, Mélanie Laurent, Gad Elmaleh, Raphaëlle Agogué, Hugo Leverdez
Genre: Drama/History/War
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: France/Germany/Hungary
Language: French/German/Yiddish

Review by: Qasa Alom

The bar has been set mighty high for films concerning the persecution of Jews during the Second World War by the likes of Schindler’s List, The Pianist and Au Revoir Les Enfants. In more recent times, even the warped brilliance of Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds has managed to treat the harrowing topic in a different and fresh manner. Thus it’s hard to have imagined how The Round Up (La Rafle) could compare. However by using two-and-a-half years of intense research, eye witness accounts and a stellar cast, former investigative journalist Rose Bosch’s picture brings lost memories back to life to make it essential viewing.

Set in 1942’s Paris, the film begins with Joseph Weismann, played by 12-year-old newcomer Hugo Leverdez, forced to go to school with a yellow star sewn onto the breast of his jacket. Met by just as much derision as sympathy, he and most of the Parisian Jews – from both affluent as well as more modest backgrounds – are forced to take refuge in the hills in Montmartre.

Rumours, anxiety and hardship are all rife in the air until, finally, on the night of the 16th July, their worst fears come true and the French police, with the country under the occupation of the Nazis, arrest over 13,000 Jews and cram them all into the Winter Velodrome. Some of them, such as 12-year-old Anne Traube, manage to escape through a mixture of cunning, good fortune and the compassion of French civilians; however, the rest, such as Jo and his family, face the appalling conditions, limited supplies and non-existent sanitation in the enormous gym before being transferred to prisoner camps.

To help the Jews in any form possible, volunteer nurse Annette Monod (played by Inglorious Basterds’ femme fatale Mélanie Laurent) acts as the imprisoned population’s very own Florence Nightingale and forms a strong connection with Jewish doctor David Sheinbaum (Jean Reno).

After the decision to transfer all the captives to the Beaune La Rolande prisoner camp is made, Monod decides to go with them in order to keep as many of the adults and children alive as possible…


The film is shot in an elegant and straightforward style that does not override its content at any point. The constant use of extreme close-ups and lingering static shots renders it easier for the viewer to see what the characters are feeling in a subtle manner without making the picture too word-heavy and bogged down. Much of this can be attributed to Bosch drawing on Roman Polanski for inspiration.

Moreover, Bosch stays true to her research and her chief eye witness’s (Joseph Weisman) account by filming the whole picture from the eye level of a child. This minor alteration, coupled with the hints of nostalgic sepia tone to the picture, transmits a powerful sense of innocence to the viewer about the atrocities they are witnessing, which ultimately enable them to follow the story through the eyes of somebody who lived it.

The only technical extravagance comes in the Winter Velodrome scene that lies at the crux of the film. A long craning CGI intense shot begins by following one person navigate the stadium, concentrating on small details such as children laughing, old women’s faces or police whistling, and ends by slowly zooming out to show the chaotic magnitude of having 13,000 people crammed into one venue.

Whilst the cinematography is generally settled and passive, the same cannot be said about the use of music. The haunting ethereal use of strings throughout the story is a clever tool to direct the viewer’s emotions and is quite reminiscent of Spielberg’s usage in Schindler’s List. The real masterstroke comes with the final scene of the film that for once befits the use of Debussy’s beautiful ‘Claire de Lune’. The soft and tender notes dance with the final pictures in a manner that can only be described as magical.

However, ultimately, it is the characters that bring the film alive and raise it to the level of something more than a historical drama. With an ensemble cast of over seventy speaking roles in the film that covers three different narrative worlds, it would have been very easy to get lost. However, Bosch intertwines the political tussles of Pétain and Hitler with the various personal story arcs of the Jewish community, as well as casting a light on the dilemma for many French Civilians with ease – we even pause for some more poignant moments without making the film’s pace uneven or stilted.

Many of the standout performances are from characters that only appear in a few scenes, such as the French firemen who work tirelessly to make sure every person gets a cup of water; the angelic orphan boy Nono who doesn’t understand what is happening to him; and the sinister camp Marshall, played by Denis Menochet (another actor from Inglorious Basterds), who points out the Jews hiding under his floorboards to Colonel Hans Landa.


The Round Up is a tremendous achievement that has ensured that one of occupied France’s worst crimes is not forgotten. Indeed, with almost half of the initial 3 million viewers in France being under 20 years old, it’s clear that the film has managed to combine intensive research and dedication to real life stories with a beautiful narrative structure that just about permits it to sit side by side with The Pianist and Schindler’s List. QA

SPECIAL FEATURE: Cinema Review: Kaboom

Film: Kaboom
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 10th June 2011
Distributor: Artificial Eye
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 86 mins
Director: Gregg Araki
Starring: Thomas Dekker, Haley Bennett, Chris Zylka, Roxane Mesquida, Juno Temple
Genre: Comedy/Horror/Mystery/Sci-Fi
Format: DVD
Country of Production: USA/France
Language: English

Review by: Anna Attallah

Written and directed by veteran of the New Queer Cinema scene Gregg Araki, this LSD infused slice of science fiction won the first ever Queer Palm award at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival. Having made his name tackling shocking subjects (from drugs, kinky sex and Neo-Nazis in his Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy to child sexual abuse in the critically acclaimed Mysterious Skin), Araki now branches out into underground cults and conspiracy theories in the psychedelic college comedy Kaboom.

Smith (Thomas Dekker) is a typical college student – or, more precisely, what a typical college student wishes they were: a person whose degree constitutes zero studying and a hundred percent hard partying. His days are spent lusting after his surfer roommate, Thor, and hanging out with his sardonic best friend, Stella (Haley Bennett). So far so ordinary, until Smith receives a postcard stating he is “the chosen one” and people from his dreams disconcertingly start popping up in his waking life.

These include Stella’s lesbian love interest, Lorelei (Roxanne Mesquida), a witch with rejection issues (don’t ask), and an ethereal redhead who introduces herself by vomiting on Smith’s shoes at a party. After ingesting a drug-laced cookie, Smith heads off to have technicolour sex with a voracious man-eater named London (Juno Temple). When she kicks him out of her room, he and the mysterious red-headed girl are chased by strange men in animal masks through the college grounds. The girl is brutally stabbed in the head, but when Smith wakes up alone, he isn’t sure if this escapade was real or simply a very bad trip.

It transpires that the red-headed girl is named Madeleine and she is involved with a secret underground cult called the ‘New Order’. Unbeknownst to Smith, his involvement with this cult is a lot closer to home than he realises. It is only when his friends and family start disappearing that Smith discovers time is running out not just for himself, but for the whole world...


It is clear that this is a film which is going through a serious identity crisis. Is it an irreverent comedy tackling teenage angst, a journey of sexual discovery, a horror film, or a tense thriller? Araki seems to have given up on trying to weave these different styles together and instead has just thrown them all at the screen and hoped for the best, resulting in a film that seems far too amateurish for someone who is directing their tenth feature. Although Araki’s sense of fun and unpretentious attitude shine through, it’s hard not to get the feeling that he is trying to do a Donnie Darko, but falling short.

Firstly, there are the endless “Am I awake or am I dreaming?” sequences which are meant to blur fact and fiction, but, in the end, only serve to make the viewer switch off, as inevitably the scene they are watching usually ends in Smith gasping and spluttering as he wakes. The chaotic conspiracy theory sub-plot also suffers from a lack of development; it is simply tacked on at the end in a slap-dash manner which seems to leave the characters just as confused as the audience. The mystery of Madeleine and Smith’s involvement in the cult is revealed seemingly in the space of twenty minutes, where Smith can barely keep up with the speed of events he is being forced to explain and the camera jerkily jumps from one unlikely link to the other.

The disordered structure isn’t helped by the fact that Araki uses every horror cliché in the book, with enough “he’s-behind-you!” moments to rival the number of scenes where characters start awake. In one scene in particular, Stella is forced to defend herself when her one time lover, Lorelei, turns murderous. The fact that Lorelei is a witch with supernatural powers gives endless scope for paranormal creepiness, but their exchange simply descends into a bland parody of the Wizard Of Oz, with Lorelei being defeated by water from the bathroom tap. Araki does occasionally produce some genuine tension, particularly when Smith is running for his life from the animal-masked members of the New Order, but hardcore horror fans will barely raise an eyebrow at most throughout.

Despite some dubious material, the cast take it all in their stride, with Thomas Dekker giving a sincere performance which captures the vulnerability of adolescence. Juno Temple is also worth a mention as she navigates her way through countless X-rated on-screen orgasms as if she’s been doing it all her life, confidently playing a part that would have been too out-there for many other young actresses to handle.

Apart from a great cast, Araki has also chosen the perfect soundtrack to compliment this off-beat adventure, with songs from popular Indie bands such as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and The xx to angsty favourites Placebo.

Although his efforts to charm the teenage audience he represented back in the 1990s seem forced, it is when he is in full college comedy mode that Araki is at his best, with some genuinely funny dialogue and sharp observations of college existence mostly courtesy of Hayley Bennett’s expert deadpan delivery. Nevertheless, you can’t help coming away wishing he’d ditched the senseless pseudo science fiction and stuck to his strengths.


Kaboom is refreshingly raw; a neon coloured foray into sex and sci-fi which doesn’t take itself too seriously. The script sparkles with some snappy one-liners and there is plenty of good-looking flesh on show, but even this cannot save the film from a clumsy plot which goes into chaotic overdrive as the sex gets increasingly weirder, the explanations get increasingly improbable, and the film collapses under its own ridiculousness. AA

REVIEW: Cinema Release: Cría Cuervos

Film: Cría Cuervos
Year of production: 1976
UK Release date: 10th June 2011
Distributor: BFI
Certificate: 12A
Running time: 110 mins
Director: Carlos Saura
Starring: Geraldine Chaplin, Mónica Randall, Florinda Chico, Ana Torrent, Héctor Alterio
Genre: Drama
Format: Cinema
Country of Production: Spain
Language: Spanish

Review by: Patrick Gamble

The best years of life are universally regarded to be those of youth; a time filled with unadulterated fun and adventure with the constraints, monotony and rigmaroles of adulthood nothing but a distant enigma. Director Carlos Saura raises a rather compelling counter argument; he believes “it’s only our memory that tells us this period was a wonderful time, but that’s only because we don’t remember things.” Although a rather pessimistic view (Saura is no doubt referring to his own traumatic childhood growing up during the Spanish civil war), there are many that would agree with him. Cria Cuervos is a delightful exploration of one girl’s traumatic journey through childhood, giving us a warts and all portrayal of the true confusion that plagues this phase instead of glorifying it through self imposed misinformed nostalgia. Using a seemingly endless series of unhappy events, Saura throws us into a time of terrible indecision, cloaked in a suffocating atmosphere of fear. Highly regarded as one of the most insightful and politically charged pieces of Spanish filmmaking, this charming journey of child fantasy imbued in reality finally gets the re-release it deserves from the BFI.

It’s still very much Francisco Franco’s Spain when we intrude upon the Madrid household of the recently widowed Anselmo. He dies suddenly amidst the throes of passion with Amelia, the wife of his best friend and fellow army officer, Nicolas. However, it appears this was no natural death - he was poisoned! The apparent culprit of this calculated murder? None other than the second of his three daughters, Ana (Ana Torrent, Spirit Of The Beehive), a wise beyond her years girl who blames her father for the death of her beloved mother. Cria Cuervos literally translates as Raise Ravens, a Spanish proverb that reads “raise ravens and they’ll take your eyes” and is generally used for someone who has bad luck raising children!

Out of a sense of family duty, Anselmo’s sister-in-law, Paulina, soon moves into the large, yet moderately dilapidated house to care for the girls and their mute grandmother, instantly instituting her own domestic regime. The girls remain unfazed and continue with their lives in much the same manner as before, but as their summer holiday unfolds, we become privy not only to the family dynamic of this all woman household, but also the vivid fantasy world of Ana. Through a myriad of daydreams and other forms of escapism, this inquisitive, imaginative and possible deadly young girl comes to terms with the death of her mother, whilst maintaining her staunch hatred for her father and the oppressive regime he represented…


The most captivating element of Cria Cuervos has to be its seamless story, which impressively blurs together fantasy and memory, whilst maintaining a strong foothold in reality. These hauntingly vivid depictions of Anna’s numerous flights of the imagination are beautifully conveyed as a stark contrast to the repressed household she dwells within and the world around her. These flashbacks, dream sequences and daytime mirages could have easily resulted in a confusing and cluttered film, yet, through deceptively simple shooting methods (Ana’s mother wanders into the frame nonchalantly and is completely ignored by all except Ana), the camera work of Teodoro Escamilla manages to capture the intimacy of these fictitious moments between Ana and her deceased mother. This ability to let fantasy and actuality intertwine on screen, combined with the tension created by the tentative yet relentless movement of the camera, perfectly aligns us with Ana’s point of view. It all culminates in not just an enjoyably honest portrayal of childhood confusion, but a unique and exquisitely presented perspective on the gritty reality of bereavement.

Fans of Pan’s Labyrinth’s darkly unsettling, poetic depiction of child fantasy and fairytales, successfully mirrored against the violent backdrop of the Spanish Civil War, will instantly fall in love with Cria Cuervos. Both films undoubtedly share a similar thematic and stylish template, but stand out for the astonishingly professional performances from their young and engaging female leads. This in no way should detract from the enjoyment of both these films, but instead underlines how effective depicting sensitive adult themes through immature eyes can be. However, unlike Pan’s Labyrinth’s heroine, Ofilia, a young girl who radiated with childlike innocence, Ana Torrent’s performance is so frighteningly serious that you can’t help but believe that she’s more than capable of the most malevolent of acts. This, however, is a role which demands a broader range of emotion responses than your usual pedophobia thriller, yet Torrent’s expressive and incredibly watchful face never falters in portraying any of these.

The film was made whilst General Franco was on his deathbed, and was naturally seen as a metaphor for the last dying gasps of fascism and the dictator’s totalitarian regime. The film clearly stresses the disparity between Ana’s fantasy world and the political reality of fascism though numerous symbolic techniques. The house, whilst clearly quite grand, feels incredibly claustrophobic, and it can be no coincidence that the blinds on the windows seem like prison bars containing the girls from the outside world. The empty swimming pool in the garden, which the girls play around, could also represent the lost pleasures of the era or, indeed, their unfulfilled lives. Ana’s father, in his military attire, is evidently here to represent fascism within the family dynamic. His controlling nature over Ana’s mother (a once famed concert pianist) could easily be interpreted as the repression of artists such as Saura, making Ana’s murderous act seem almost revolutionary within this domestic microcosm. Unfortunately, the introduction of Paulina to rule the home, with her strict code of cleanliness and etiquette, seems to act as a warning that Spain’s transition toward democracy may not be as smooth as hoped for.

Paulina’s presence turns the home into an all female household that spans three generations; each is represented with its own distinctive soundtrack. The disparity between the girls’ incredibly catchy pop music and the classical music, which seemingly once filled the house, shows a shift away from tradition, which is equally apparent in their casual clothing - a stark contrast to the elegant dresses of their elders. It has led to many perceiving that Saura uses the female sex and their legacy of repression as a parallel to Spain’s troubled history. It’s a tenuous link, but the fact remains that many feminists still laud Cria Cuervos as a wonderfully subtle account of female socialization, specifically the way in which the girls reject the roles they are expected to fulfill. Ana’s interactions with Rosa, the maid, lead to some humorous and well crafted examples of this, but perhaps the dress up scene, involving the three girls recreating a domestic dispute, is the most obviously symbolic of them all. It’s a scene that we later realise, through one of Ana’s recollections, is an almost exact copy of an argument between her broken down mother and nauseatingly abhorrent father. Yet, in this delightfully charming recreation by the children, Ana’s portrayal of her mother is a far more assured and confrontational one, perhaps signalling a time of hope regarding women’s rights through this new rebellious generation, brought up within a new liberated Spain. It’s a subject matter dealt with cautiously by the director, who despite these countless depictions of youthful empowerment presents the future Ana (though some gently interspersed, straight to camera pieces) under an impartial light. Interestingly, Saura casts the same actress here as plays Ana’s mother, leading us to question whether young Ana is doomed to make the same mistakes.


The term ‘classic’ often gets thrown around too easily, without much regard to the importance and role of the adjective within cinematic history. Cria Cuervos, with its cultivated meditation on history, memory and childhood, combined with an intriguing political undertone, is a film which can be enjoyed on many, many levels. Whether you choose to view it as a reflective parable documenting the fall of fascism, a subtle allegory about the repressed roles of women, or just as a joyous journey into the fantasy world of an imaginative young girl, it rightfully deserves to be heralded as a true classic. PG

SPECIAL FEATURE: Cinema Review: Senna

Film: Senna
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 3rd June 2011
Distributor: Universal
Certificate: 12A
Running time: 106 mins
Director: Asif Kapadia
Starring: Ayrton Senna, Alain Prost, Frank Williams, Ron Dennis, Viviane Senna
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: UK/France/USA
Language: English

Review by: Patrick Gamble

On 1st May 1994, the sporting world lost one of its most charismatic and well-loved personalities in an accident which would resonate around the world. Travelling at a perilous 130mph, Ayrton Senna crashed his Williams-Renault Formula One car into the now infamous Tamburello corner of the San Marino Grand Prix. The collision led to a piece of his suspension flying off the nose of the car and making a devastatingly fatal blow to his helmet. It followed a similar incident during the previous days qualifying heats when Austrian driver Rolan Ratzenberger slammed into the same wall and died instantly. Yet there remains something so endearing, so mesmerising about this flamboyant Brazilian that whilst both their bodies may have been regrettably swept of the track on that fateful spring weekend, Senna’s spirit continues to live on amongst the public consciousness.

Director Asif Kapadia’s documentary of this fallen celebrity focuses on Ayrton Senna’s decade competing in Formula One. We follow his journey from lowly debutant driver for Toelman through his rapid rise up the Formula One Ladder, from Lotus to McLaren (winning the world championship an impressive three times) and, finally, with team Williams, where he would abruptly end his racing career.

We witness his struggles on the track against McLaren team mate and fierce rival Alain Prost (a sideshow which undoubtedly created an unparalleled buzz around a sport not normally followed for its personal confrontations), to the off track world of rigid politics, advanced motoring technology and ludicrous financial endorsements that many, including Senna, believe removed any true sense of competitiveness from the sport long ago.

However, Senna isn’t a documentary about Formula One but rather an intimate portrait of a global superstar who staunchly stuck to his views and refused to play by anyone else’s rules. A humble celebrity who remained fiercely patriotic and charitable to his impoverished homeland, and stood not only as a spokesman for his sport, but an ambassador for everything a celebrity should be…


The film’s most significant achievement has to be the vast range of footage that director Kapadia has managed to lay his hands on (impressively convincing Bernie Ecclestone to open the private video vaults of the Formula One archives). From intimate family films to on board driver cameras, the depth of material on show invites us into not just the professional side of Senna’s life but also his private world. Like the most intricate jigsaw puzzle, it’s all wonderfully and lovingly pieced together to create a seamless flow between scenes, making the viewer feel more a part of the story than simply a fly on the wall. We witness the hard work Senna put into helping poor Brazilian children, the close knit, down to earth family unit he would escape to, and his constant professional conflicts regarding the political bureaucracy of his sport.

Unlike your archetypal sporting documentary, Senna has no single narrator, instead using personal testimonies sparingly with the majority of the film’s story being told by Senna himself from archived sound bites, press conferences and interviews. It gives the film a haunting quality, which creates an existential aroma around it, making the viewer feel like they’re on an incredibly personal journey with this fascinating and deeply spiritual man. There’s also none of the clichéd ‘talking head’ segments we’re used to from such documentaries, which often interrupt a film’s flow and inject too many external and often contradictory opinions. Instead, we are very much left to make our own opinions, deciding on our view of this racing car driver purely from witnessing his work and hearing him speak, as opposed to being dictated by what others say about him. This touchingly honest approach is achieved not through the director’s sure-handed guidance, but from Senna himself. Rarely are we presented with such a humble, shy but equally entertaining sports man - a man who clearly loves what he does far more than the fame and money that often accompanies (and corrupts this kind of monumental sporting success). This provides us with an opportunity to witness his contagiously optimistic and passionate personality as it positively radiates out from the screen.

There are many who believe this approach to documentary filmmaking is unnecessarily intrusive and crosses the line of personal privacy. The final twenty-five minutes of the film focuses on the inevitable ending – the incident of the San Marino Grand Prix. It has been argued that we could have been spared the in-car footage of Senna’s final moments, with many seeing this as an invasive, personal intrusion that leans towards gross voyeurism. However, this is a complement to the film’s ability to propel us into Senna’s world, making us susceptible to the full emotive force of this tragic accident - it makes this unfortunate outcome as powerfully upsetting as it was all those years ago.

The second act’s focus on Senna’s fierce rivalry with former team mate Alain Prost adds a whole other dimension to the blue print of this documentary, creating a thrilling tale about professional jealousy and conflict between two highly driven, competitive men at the top of their profession. Prost, however, is not our central antagonist, rather an example of how the political game of Formula One should be played. The main villain depicted here is Jean Marie Balestre, the then chief of Formula One. His constant struggles with Ayrton reveal him to be our classic pantomime baddie and their negatively charged relationship drives the narrative forward. This attention to the dramatic sideshow surrounding Senna’s career turns what could have been a painfully formulaic sports documentary into something more akin to a biopic, which, for a little while, creates a whole new narrative that pulls us deeper into this highly secretive world, successfully capturing the pomp and political circumstances of the sport.

The film’s pace is dictated by two important factors, music and editing, which, throughout the movie, combine harmoniously to catalyse the film’s emotional core. Considering the subject matter, the film had to feel fast, full of adrenaline and most importantly exciting – something modern coverage of the sport has failed to capture. The director’s flawless editing manages to combine these varying pieces of stock footage into a seamless collection of shots that moves so effortlessly that the film never loses momentum, only occasionally taking a pit stop to let us catch our breath. The music ranges from feverish Brazilian bossanova to frantic hand drums and all the way to ambient strings, which culminates in an emotional rollercoaster ride, constantly creating an appropriate mood to accompany the images we’re presented with.


This historical record of possibly the most charismatic sportsmen of modern times manages to not only act as a snapshot documenting the history of Formula One but transcends the sport and creates a highly emotive drama that will speak to a wider audience than those with a vested interest in the sport. It’s an exquisitely enjoyable journey that like Senna’s career, feels all too brief. PG