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Film: In The City Of Sylvia
Release date: 22nd June 2009
Certificate: PG
Running time: 84 mins
Director: José Luis Guerín
Starring: Xavier Lafitte, Pilar López de Ayala
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Spain/France
In The City Of Sylvia brought director Jose Luis Guerin, formerly more prominent for his documentary making, international acclaim, with the film receiving a nomination at the Golden Lion prize given at the Venice Film Festival in 2007, and making appearances on several end of the year top ten lists when it was generally released in 2008.
A young artist, El (Xavier Lafitte), walks through the town and visit’s the cafes of Strasbourg in the hope of meeting a woman he met in a bar on a previous visit, six years ago. The search is made all the more difficult as he has only a sketch to identify her by.
The film is split into three segments (Night 1, Night 2 and Night 3) in which we follow El on his seemingly impossible mission, as he looks in the hope of encountering the object of his desire while also observing and sketching those around him.
After a frustrating first day, he soon zones in on a beautiful young woman (Pilar López de Ayala) who may or may not be the mysterious woman he is looking for, and he then proceeds to follow her round the labyrinthine streets…
Be warned, this is very much film at its most arty, which may turn some viewers off immediately. Also throughout its admittedly short running time, the film is almost dialogue free, as we, the viewer, for the most part, see the city as El sees it. As the audience, we, like our central character, spend most of the time people watching and observing people, in particular the women, as they go by, and listening in on barely audible conversations as, our lead, sketches in his notebook the faces, hairs, hands etc., of passers-by.
Like the central character, the film is no great rush to go anywhere, and the pacing is practically glacial. This can prove frustrating, at first, but it is relatively easy to adjust to the slow rhythms of the movie while scrutinizing and observing the people who come and go in the same way as the central character.
Due to the lack of dialogue, this is a very visual film. The cinematography is beautifully and seductively shot throughout, whilst the film is full of interesting visual trickery, such as people close-up being seemingly kissed by people further away, and couples who appear together actually being on separate tables with separate partners. The downside being that this can sometimes make it feel as much as a travelogue as it is a feature film.
The languorous pace and the use of long static takes in the street sequences, in which we see the streets before and after the characters have passed through, are reminiscent of the films of Michelangelo Antonioni – similarly, there are no neat solutions to be found here. Although this is not the only cinematic touchstone, as Alfred Hitchcock and Robert Bresson also stand out as key influences on Guerin’s style.
They’re influence can be seen in the mystery element that picks up when El starts pursuing the young women who he is convinced is Sylvia. It is also clearly indebted to Hitchcock’s masterpiece, Vertigo, as like that masterpiece, this can be seen as a study in voyeurism and, in particular, the ‘male gaze’ in the way women are seen by men.
This is where the movie has treaded a very fine line, as we are clearly meant to recognise the lead as a dreamer and a romantic hero, but he could just as easily come across as sinister and disturbed in his almost compulsive pursuit of this woman. Luckily, between Lafitte’s classical good looks and his constant sketching, the character is kept more on the side of the former than the latter.
The lead actors, Xavier Lafitte and Pilar López de Ayala, also give standout performances, and are the key factor in making the film watchable throughout, because despite practically nothing in the way of character development, you end up genuinely caring what happens to these characters. The pair also has great chemistry together, and they exude sensuality.
The director’s background also comes into play as the film is shot in a documentary style. This becomes somewhat incongruous in parts, though, as some scenes feel somewhat contrived and carefully choreographed.
This is an incredibly easy film to hate because of the lack of any incident and the slightness of the film’s plot. It is certainly a difficult piece of cinema that will only ever attract a niche audience. There is also an air of self-importance, and it often teeters on the edge of art house cinema’s worst excesses, but for all its pretensions, this is a lovingly crafted and, at times, mesmeric film. SCOTT
Film: Leap Year
Release date: 28th February 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 92 mins
Director: Michael Rowe
Starring: Monica del Carmen, Gustavo Sánchez Parra, Armando Hernández, Diego Chas, Marco Zapata
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico
Produced on an extremely low budget and the directorial debut of Michael Rowe, Leap Year has attracted some considerable controversy, an impressive degree of critical acclaim, and has recently won the Camera D'or Award at the Cannes Film Festival. Exploring the nature of loneliness and pushing the boundaries with its sexually explicit scenes, Leap Year proves an extremely daring film from this first time director.
The film chronicles twenty-nine days in the life of a Mexican, freelance journalist named Laura Lopez (Monica del Carmen). Almost entirely shot in her cramped apartment, the film explores her lonely, isolated existence and emotionally detached sexual encounters with numerous men.
Laura's life seems to consist of nothing more than eating cheap tinned food, secretly masturbating over her neighbours and conjuring up fantasies of a non-existent social life. This last point is illustrated during various phone calls with her mother, in which she proves herself to be a prolific liar, explaining how she has prepared steak for dinner, when in fact she is eating baked beans straight from the tin, and describing close relationships with friends who evidently do not exist.
However, a calendar hanging on her apartment wall, the last day of the month coloured red, offers a hint toward a haunted past. Laura marks off each day of the month religiously with a black cross, counting down to the 29th February, a day which is of particular significance to Laura.
Unexpectedly, after various sexual encounters, she meets a man named Arturo (Gustavo Sanchez Parra), with whom she begins a strange, sexual relationship. Both engage in acts of sadomasochism, their encounters becoming more violent in nature as the film progresses.
Rather than being a romanticisation of sadomasochism, the film explores her motivation to perform degrading sexual acts and hints toward sexual abuse during her childhood. As the 29th approaches, the film offers some of its most explicit and disturbing scenes, delving into the darkest parts of the human psyche…
Michael Rowe has admitted that the main reason for the film being set entirely within Laura's apartment was due to a lack of funding. It would certainly seem that, given the film's preoccupation with loneliness and isolation, the low budget worked in its favour. The effect of shooting the film in one location, and offering only three actors with speaking parts, certainly enhances the viewer's ability to relate to Laura's isolated life.
However, Rowe's minimalist approach expands beyond this; the film consisting entirely of static shots. There are no camera movements and many scenes are shot using just one camera angle. This doesn't seem to be a result of a low budget but more a decision of the director to keep the focus strictly on the actors and their performances.
Rowe's willingness to place the film's success solely in the hands of its three actors was a bold move, but a move that more than pays off. Rowe's casting of Monica del Carmen and Gustavo Sanchez Parra for the main roles cannot be commended enough. Whilst Parra offers depth to a character we are, for good reason, told little about, Carmen appears to throw herself into one of the most disturbing roles depicted on screen. In one scene, a mere distant gaze from her apartment window speaks volumes to the loneliness felt by her character, Laura. In another far more disturbing scene, she lies on her apartment floor whilst Arturo urinates on her, a scene which pushes many boundaries whilst offering a graphic demonstration of her own self-loathing, a product of her distant past. With such graphic scenes of humiliation, escalating as the film progresses, it is a testament to Rowe's directorial skills that Carmen would put so much trust in this first time director.
With minimalist cinematography and all focus directed toward the actors, the film's linear direction also helps enhance the relationship between the viewer and Laura. Rowe has written a script which keeps the viewer engaged in a way that many films fail to achieve. At no point does the director employ the use of flashbacks or present the narrative in a non-linear fashion. Instead, Rowe offers insights into Laura's past via telephone calls and conversations between the two main characters. This alone is applaudable, given the fact that many films, often lazily, use flashbacks and fancy editing to offer depth to the their characters.
Leap Year is a prime example of low budget filmmaking at its very best. In fact, it demonstrates how some films can benefit from a reduced budget. The film tackles some truly dark themes in a way many directors would not dare to attempt. Michael Rowe's directorial debut is visually impressive, features an extremely moving, if not disturbing, script and some incredibly impressive performances. ME
Mexican psychodrama portraying a woman's intense loneliness, and her journey into a world of sexual experimentation.
Freelance journalist Laura Lopez (Monica del Carmen) lives alone, leaving her tiny flat only to shop for groceries and to pick up random, faceless men for sex. Her repeated attempts at intimacy with these men come to nothing until she meets Artur (Gustavo Sanchez Parra), who at last gives her the attention she craves.
However, as time goes by, Artur's sadistic tendencies come to the fore, as Laura lays herself bare to the aggressive and demeaning sexual acts he performs.
This controversial, sexually charged psychological thriller won the Camera d'Or at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival.
Film: Leap Year
Release date: 28th February 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 92 mins
Director: Michael Rowe
Starring: Monica del Carmen, Gustavo Sánchez Parra, Armando Hernández, Diego Chas, Marco Zapata
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Mexico
Film: Nightwatching
Release date: 26th April 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 134 mins
Director: Peter Greenaway
Starring: Martin Freeman, Emily Holmes, Eva Birthistle, Jodhi May, Toby Jones
Genre: Drama/History/Mystery
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Netherlands/Canada/UK/France/Poland
This is an English-Language release.
The Nightwatch by Rembrandt Van Rijn is the fourth most famous painting in the world behind The Mona Lisa, The Last Supper and the ceiling of The Sistine Chapel. It is a scene instantly familiar to most, but British director Peter Greenaway suggests that there may be secrets disguised behind the image everyone knows. In his 2007 dramatisation Nightwatching, and its companion critical essay Rembrandt’s J’accuse (2008), Greenaway posits the idea that Rembrandt has in fact hidden within the painting detailed clues towards a murder conspiracy for whoever is able read them.
In Nightwatching, Martin Freeman plays the famous Dutch painter Rembrandt Van Rijn, who – his fortunes fading - agrees at the behest of his pregnant wife Saskia to paint an assembly of the Amsterdam militia. Through his associations with the militia – a group of self-trained local merchants playing at being soldiers largely for their own political advantages – Rembrandt stumbles across a murder plot within its ranks.
Instead of painting the group in the typical staid style of the day, Rembrandt sets out to expose the conspirators by meticulously staging the painting and using subtle allegory to tell a static play, spelling out the details of the murder. The painting is released to general shocked controversy, and Rembrandt’s personal life suffers as a consequence.
In the accompanying film, Rembrandt’s J’accuse, Greenaway takes a critical look at the painting itself, focusing on each of the 34 characters in turn (including the painter himself, or at least his solitary peering eye), and analysing their motives, background, and their place in the conspiracy…
Martin Freeman may seem a peculiar choice to play the famous Dutch painter, but his performance is passionate and committed from the off, and as the film progresses, he breathes a depth of humanity into the character which is completely believable. In the best way, we start to re-evaluate what we thought we knew of the famous historical icon, and furthermore, one glance back at Rembrandt’s self portraits reveals Freeman to be not unlike the painter in physical appearance either. That he makes no attempt at an accent is probably for the best, when listening to what his equestrian English makes of the few Dutch words he does attempt. Eva Birthistle also deserves credit for a layered, intelligent performance as Rembrandt’s wife Saskia.
Greenaway’s primary visual technique is to frame each scene and light it as a period painting, and to film from a static distance. The result is initially jarring, but as the technique warms in, it becomes less distancing and more effective, somewhat reminiscent of Lars Von Trier’s Dogville. A limitation of the static camera is that Greenaway sacrifices much of the basic language of filmmaking, and it is left to an exhaustively busy screenplay to pick up the slack and fill in the details. The cast can take little blame as they all put in gutsy, committed performances, but as they chew their way through the wordy dialogue whilst over-gesticulating to a distant camera, it can give the whole thing the air of a school play. A further technical frustration is frequent poor sound quality, with the dialogue often muffled and unclear. Where the intelligent script like this needs close attention, this quickly becomes irritating.
That Greenaway felt the need to further expand on the implications of The Nightwatch a year later would suggest he had not made all of his salient points in the initial dramatisation. It is a clever idea to present two angles this way, and – one would think – immensely liberating for the director, but it feels as if the two works are sadly not aware of each other. Rather than focusing purely on the dramatic aspects of the story in Nightwatching, it feels as if Greenaway is at time bogged down with the needs to convey facts, rather than leaving them to the accompanying piece. The Nightwatching screenplay feels as though it has been packed with line after line of dense expository dialogue, intent on covering acres of unseen political detail. It’s often just too much to take in, and inevitably, the drama suffers.
Fairing far better is Rembrandt’s J’accuse. Tackling the subject as a straight critical essay, and with a powerful, driving narration from Greenaway himself, the film mines plenty of drama through its musings over the evidence. Most interesting is the exploration of a ‘dead language’: visual literacy, the interpretation of hidden meanings within paintings that turn them into more static plays than definite images. By focusing on the thirty-four figures featured within the painting, and dealing with each in turn, Rembrandt’s J’accuse is a focused, fast-paced and fascinating documentary.
Peter Greenaway presents two pieces which take dramatically different angles on one intriguing story, exploring the hidden mysteries behind one of the most famous paintings in history. Both have their merits, but if you only have time to see one, make it Rembrandt’s J’accuse. LOZ
This highly charged sexual thriller, set within the small confines of a Mexican apartment, follows 29 days in the dispirited life of freelance Journalist Laura Lopez, as she moves from one anonymous sexual encounter to another.
Soon, Laura meets a man by the name of Arturo, and it is not long before she is submitting to demeaning sexual acts as part of their relationship - a tragic psychological reaction to a secret trauma from her past, which occurred on the previous leap year. When Laura marks a red square around an upcoming date on her calendar wall, the wheels are set in motion for what will turn out to be a startling conclusion.
Film: Leap Year
Release date: 26th November 2010
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 92 mins
Director: Michael Rowe
Starring: Monica del Carmen, Gustavo Sánchez Parra, Armando Hernández, Diego Chas, Marco Zapata
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: Cinema
Country: Mexico
Film: El Bola
Release date: 23rd August 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Achero Mañas
Starring: Juan José Ballesta, Pablo Galán, Alberto Jimenez, Manuel Moran, Anna Wagener
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Spain
There are many films that deal with parental child abuse, but few match the poignancy or unflinching realism of El Bola, a multiple award-winning 2000 Spanish drama directed by Archero Manas.
Twelve-year-old Pablo, aka El Bola (Spanish for pellet, a nickname that may derive from a small wooden ball he carries around with him as a good luck charm), is a bit of a loner: a sensitive yet tough-minded boy who leads what at first appears to be a very ordinary existence; attending school and living in an unremarkable Madrid apartment with his stern father, tired looking mother and elderly, incontinent grandmother.
Pablo (Juan Jose Ballesta) has no close friends, though he does have limited interactions with some of his fellow school pupils. Out of school, their favourite pastime seems to be playing a dangerous game of ‘chicken’, which involves leaping across train tracks moments before speeding trains pass.
Pablo’s life, and what we know about it, begins to change, however, when he befriends Alfredo (Pablo Galan), a rebellious yet level-headed new boy at his school. Where Alfredo’s family background is comparatively unconventional yet loving, it becomes clear that beneath the seemingly ordinary surface of Pablo’s life lies a disturbing secret.
Pablo’s father doesn’t like the fact that his son is spending more and more time with Alfredo and his family, and we become increasingly aware that, far from just being taciturn, he is a violently abusive authoritarian who hides beneath a veneer of civility. The more Pablo starts to come out of his shell and stand up for himself, the more brutal his father’s responses to him become, and the film culminates in a harrowing sequence of events from which there is no turning back for either Pablo or those around him…
With El Bola, director Archero Manas has achieved a striking yet subtle balance between tenderness and the stark, brutal reality of Pablo’s treatment at the hands of his father. Lesser filmmakers would have ramped up the sentimentality, or revelled in the graphic violence, but Manas does neither. Instead, he is sparing in the access he allows us to Pablo’s moments of quiet joy, as well as his most terrifying experiences.
There is also a strong sense of frustration - conveyed through Alfredo’s family when they become aware of the abuse and try to act to stop it - at the cruel absurdities of a social system that seems to be designed to protect the abuser rather than the abused.
Juan Jose Ballesta puts in an astonishingly accomplished performance as the 12-year-old Pablo in his debut film role. The demands of playing such a character must have been enormous, but Ballesta conveys a wide range of emotions with natural, understated poise: from loneliness, shame and confusion to innocent curiosity and unfurling happiness; from bullish self-assertion to outright desperation.
Manas, who co-wrote the screenplay with Veronica Hernandez, ensures that there are also flashes of comic relief, black though they may be. In one pivotal scene that may point to the origins of Pablo’s father’s abusive behaviour, Pablo reveals to Alfredo that he had a brother who died in a car accident before he was born, and comments that “he must have been idiot” because his father “keeps comparing him to me.”
It is small details such as this that make El Bola such a touching and convincing film. The ending is abrupt, and the details Pablo reveals about the abuses his father inflicted on him are shocking, to say the least, but this is not a film without hope. In the form of Alfredo’s tattooist father Jose (Alberto Jiminez), Pablo has at least experienced the protective, fatherly love of a man who was prepared to do what was best for him, even if it was to his own disadvantage.
Director Archero Manas’s debut feature film is a powerful and intensely moving exploration of fathers and sons that tests commonly held perceptions of what is normal or healthy and what is not. JG
Film: Undertow
Release date: 6th August 2010
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 100 mins
Director: Javier Fuentes-León
Starring: Tatiana Astengo, Manolo Cardona, Cristian Mercado
Genre: Drama/Romance/Fantasy
Studio: Axiom
Format: Cinema
Country: Peru/Colombia/France/Germany
Director Javier Fuentes-Leon’s debut offers a very unusual love triangle concept, but apparently not so out of the ordinary to turn off viewers – picking up the the 2010 Sundance World Cinema Audience Award.
Set in a tiny coastal village in Peru, it has three main characters. Miguel (Mercado) is a hard-working fisherman, popular, a member of the local footy team, and looking after his pretty wife Mariela (Astengo), who is heavily pregnant with their first child. He also has another side, however - he is involved in a passionate affair with local painter Santiago (Cardona). Miguel wants to keep the two sides of his life separate, but Santiago begins to demand more of him - even trying to befriend Mariela at a local market.
Just when the story appears to have played itself out, the film takes a huge turn – Santiago is mysteriously drowned, apparently dragged under by the undertow of the title. Miguel is stricken with grief, so much so that Santiago starts appearing to him, and they carry on their argument about happiness and giving. Santiago’s ghost demands that Miguel finds his body and buries him properly, but Miguel is so in denial he follows another path.
Just as it all starts to go a bit Ghost, the story takes yet another left turn, as local gossips start to reveal Miguel’s affair. When this reaches Mariela she faces a decision, whether to leave Miguel or stay for the sake of their baby. Miguel meanwhile is still denying the rumours, but Santiago’s ghost won’t rest until he does the right thing…
It would be too simplistic to describe this award-winning drama as the Peruvian Brokeback Mountain. It certainly covers similar themes and territory, a man trying to come to terms with being happily married with a child, but who also has a secret gay life which has serious consequences. Undertow, though, uses very different methods to tell its story.
The amazing thing about Undertow is the way it uses techniques we’ve seen a hundred times before – “I see dead people” – but weaves them in an intricate pattern to create something fresh, complex and gripping. It never makes assumptions about characters, using its tiny seaside setting and isolated community in such a clever way. The villagers are traditional and disapproving of homosexuality, yet they are also capable of forgiveness and of recognising the importance of respecting others.
The three lead characters give tremendous performances; very real, honest and passionate, with Astengo’s Mariela particularly strong. She goes from feeling loved to betrayed to angry to compassionate without missing a beat, and in one scene where she defends her husband to the local gossips she is as strong as a lion. The two men too are equally fine, especially Cardona’s Santiago as the spurned lover who also has to deal with hostility from the locals.
It’s the debut film from the director, and we can only hope he keeps up this standard. He is helped by his extraordinary setting, the little fishing village looking like a Salvador Dali painting and his cinematographer never goes for the pretty, preferring the surreal every time. Some of the sunsets and wind-swept beaches are breathtaking.
Updating a tried and tested formula, director Javier Fuentes-Leon’s debut is certainly deserving of its award successes and critical acclaim, elevated by the beautiful setting and some outstanding contributions from its leads.
Film: Don’t Look Down
Release date: 26th July 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Eliseo Subiela
Starring: Leandro Stivelman, Antonella Costa, Hugo Arana, Mónica Galán, Octavio Borro
Genre: Erotica/Drama/Romance
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina/France
Produced back in 2008, Magic Realist filmmaker Eliseo Subiela’s Don’t Look Down has finally found its way into UK circulation after experiencing problems with the Argentina film censors with regards to the film’s sexual content. Nevertheless, the film went on to secure wins at the Latin-American Film Festival (Best Film) and the Montreal Film Festival (Best Latin-American Film) two years ago.
When his father dies, 19-year-old Eloy (Leandro Stivelman) begins to sleepwalk during the night, whilst by day he sees visions of his father carrying handfuls of nuts and bolts, as well as rows of the dead sitting in front of the wall of the local cemetery. Eloy seems to have some higher form of spirituality. For a brief time, he is convinced that his father has been trying to communicate with him through his school exercise book.
During one of his sleepwalking perambulates, Eloy falls through the open skylight of a neighbour’s house, landing on the bed of Elvira (Antonella Costa), who is staying with her grandmother whilst on vacation. Both Elvira and her grandmother share a somewhat spiritual outlook on life - the grandmother is a therapist whereas Elvira is a studier of Tantra. Eloy and Elvira strike up a relationship and soon enough the more mature Elvira begins teaching Eloy the infinite possibilities of Tantric sex…
Constructed around the teachings of the Karma Sutra, it comes as no surprise that Don’t Look Down comes across more as a sex manual rather than as a fully formed story of romance and coming of age. Rather than the lovers wanting to explore each other both as people and playmates, their chief concern is that Eloy achieves a predetermined number of thrusts before he succumbs to pleasure, leading to a shallow and somewhat tedious viewing experience. Most of the film consists of the two interlocked in various Sutra recommended positions, whilst an early scene sees Eloy deciding on what to call his penis - he settles for Marlon in the end, in honour of the late Mr. Brando.
When they’re not naked, Eloy spends a lot of time dressed as a sandwich as way of part-time employment, or delivering ornaments and headstones to the local graveyard on his bike. The latter is usually accompanied by a ponderous voice-over discussing sudo-spirituality and reinforcing Eloy’s unexplained ability to see the dead languishing in deckchairs outside the cemetery they’re buried in. Eloy is also a keen stilt-walker; a stroll with Elvira four meters off the ground provides one of the film’s weirder images. Some of the film’s more entertaining moments surface during these magic realist segments, however, said moments are few and far between - nor is their potential truly fulfilled.
Performances all round are satisfactory. Stivelman, while a fairly attractive young man, sports a confused, mouth slightly agape expression for most of the film’s meagre running time. Costa, on the other hand, displays far more screen presence and chemistry but is still unable to elevate the prolonged Tantric contrivances between the two good-looking leads beyond being merely adequate. Also, it’s difficult to determine whether Elvira genuinely cares for Eloy, save for his increasing technique in horizontal refreshment. For Elvira, it only seems to be about sex. Only Eloy’s ghostly father (Hugo Arana) gives the film any true sense of warmth and charm. It would’ve been nice if he appeared more often.
However, to the film’s credit, the frequent sexual intercourse on display is handled, for the most part, in a very tasteful manner, and certainly doesn’t exhibit the awkward and embarrassed execution seen in many a Hollywood outing. It may be worth pointing out that all of the sex in Don’t Look Down is simulated, which admittedly does garner some steamy results. However, the problem lies in the sheer quantity of the act that holds little development except for the decidedly half-baked concept that their love-making may possess hallucinogenic properties – realised through Eloy having visions of visiting places and cities all over the world – not to mention plenty of rodomontading pillow-talk about sexual prowess and the like.
A commendable aspect of the production is director Eliseo Subiela’s eye for framing and composition, with the majority of the film’s cinematography looking wonderful. Through a combination of photography and art direction, Don’t Look Down offers a timeless look showcasing a 21st century Buenos Aires that could easily be mistaken for the Buenos Aires of forty or fifty years ago. The film certainly has a very classic feel, sticking to the more historical parts of the city – a labyrinth of weathered apartment blocks and rooftops. Again, the sex scenes are tastefully choreographed and framed, avoiding cheesy temptations, such as having a foreground object blocking certain body parts.
Don’t Look Down suffers from a distinct lack of purpose: too steamy for mass consumption; too sweet and naïve for seasoned skin watchers. Amidst the lovely camerawork, there is plethora of missed opportunities resulting in a well crafted film devoid of any substance, as the rather ponderous script fails to gain momentum or any real sense of focus for that matter. The results are watchable but highly disposable, with some eye-candy thrown in for good measure. MP
Film: Wings Of Desire
Release date: 28th July 2008
Certificate: 12
Running time: 122 mins
Director: Wim Wenders
Starring: Bruno Ganz, Peter Falk, Solveig Dommartin, Curt Bois, Otto Sander
Genre: Fantasy/Drama/Romance
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: West Germany
Wim Wenders’ decision to shoot from an unusual viewpoint, perhaps inspired by Rilke’s meditations on death and immortality, gave birth to a film whose central characters are uniquely placed to examine the human soul and the nature of existence and spirituality.
It takes a certain bravery to create a film with an angel as its main protagonist, to avoid straying into the territory of whimsy. The film’s opening aerial shot is a nod to Capra, as an angel stands on top of a church tower, wings unfurled, as harp music plays and children look up in wonder. But the lives of the citizens of Berlin whom the angels protect are not wonderful. The thoughts of the people, audible to the angels, dwell on miscommunication, death, isolation.
A conversation between the two main characters, Damiel and Cassiel, reveals that the angels are there to bear witness to the spiritual life of humanity. This often takes the form of small, delicately observed incidents – a boy telling his schoolteacher how a fern grows, a station guard on a sudden fancy calling out “Tierra del Fuego” instead of the station name. The angels stand by those in need and provide invisible yet tangible comfort. Only children can see the angels – the film’s recurrent litany of Peter Handke’s poem Lied vom Kindsein (Song Of Childhood) speaks of the importance of dreams and questioning in childhood (“als das Kind Kind war” - when the child was a child), and the openness of children to the existence of things beyond the material world.
The central character, Damiel, speaks of his desire to experience being a part of the world, rather than merely an observer, and know simple pleasures, such as coming home at the end of a long day and feeding the cat, like Philip Marlowe. When he strays into a circus showground and encounters Marion, the trapeze artist, despairing that the circus has to close and that her dreams may now be at an end, his distress at being an observer, separate from the suffering of humanity, increases.
The film goes on to explore the consequence of Damiel’s desire to be mortal; as well as the human desire to cease living, and the nature of despair, of consolation and the will to persevere and to love…
As a foil to the main storyline featuring Damiel and Marion, the character of Cassiel has a number of scenes with an elderly writer, whose thoughts turn on the nature of writing and the warlike tendency of human nature. He describes the German people as being divided into as many states as there are individuals, each state only accessible with the right passwords. The writer is frail and haunted by memories of the city before the war, but he feels a compulsion to try to write an epic of peace, to counteract all the preceding works that have celebrated warriors and kings. There are recurring images of war – bombers cutting across clouds, buildings in flame, bodies heaped at the side of a road – and an extract of the writer’s work merges straight into a film set, peopled by actors playing Nazi soldiers and refugees. The themes of violence and separation are most obviously symbolised by the forbidding presence of the Berlin Wall – a reproduction constructed for the film, as filming by the Wall itself was not allowed.
Berlin becomes a character itself in the film. Wim Wenders has said that he chose Berlin as it is a place of fantasy, even after the Wall came down, because for years afterwards people still couldn’t quite believe that it had been destroyed. He has said that many scenes came out of the locations, and that he wanted to make the places come alive. This process contributes to the impression of an independent reality to the city outside the scope of the camera lens - that the angels wander the city at random and encounter scenes which somehow reflect the essence of that particular locality.
The music in the film alternates between classical – romantic, stirring and melancholy – and bleak post-punk, which suitably reflects the harsh politics of the time and place. Nick Cave’s songs of death and isolation sit comfortably with the film’s themes, as he sings of eternity and of the carny, whose departure no-one witnesses. The passion of the classical pieces harks back to Germany’s strong romantic tradition in poetry and music, and aptly expresses the yearning of the characters for understanding, meaning and love. In contrast to this, the performances are nicely understated, where any hint of melodrama could have pushed the film’s premise into the realms of the ridiculous.
The angels’ lack of dialogue in scenes with people requires Bruno Ganz and Otto Sander to convey much merely by expression. Bruno Ganz manages to express sympathy, humour and pathos in the leading role, with a childish wonder in some scenes, which is a pleasing contrast to the world weariness of many of the characters. Solveig Dommartin’s trapeze artist fluctuates from sad-eyed despondency to childlike mystification at the world, and how she should exist within it. At the same time, there is an ambiguity in the performances which reflects the uncertainty of the themes explored by the film – we can read an expression of despair or distress but, unlike the angels, not the thought processes behind them. Thought itself, the film seems to suggest, is only an approximate expression of human consciousness.
A melancholy and poetic masterpiece, whose haunting images, powerful music and ambiguous meditation on the nature of existence linger in the memory long after watching. KR
Film: Un Jeu Brutal/De Bruit Et De Fureur
Release date: 8th February 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 177 mins
Director: Jean-Claude Brisseau
Starring: Bruno Cremer, Emmanuelle Debever, Lisa Heredia
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: France
Two early films from French director Jean-Claude Brisseau, who would go on to greater recognition with films such as 2003’s Cannes-recognised Secret Things.
Un Jeu Brutal is the story of Isabelle, a disabled teenager who is taken out of her boarding school to live with her father at the dying request of his mother. Isabelle has to deal with her father’s strict ideas on what she should be able to do and say. This often results in violence, as Isabelle is also a strong character whose frustration at her situation manifests itself in defiance and the odd temper tantrum. She faces many new challenges: developing trust in a new teacher who comes to live with her, her teacher's brother who visits and becomes the object of her desires as she craves affection and becomes aware of her awakening sexuality; and the realisation that her small and limiting world is actually a very dangerous place.
Living in the countryside, in what looks like Provence, the setting is reminiscent of another well loved French film, Manon des Sources, and Isabelle is of similar age and beauty to Manon. However, she does not enjoy any of Manon's freedom or innocence, as Isabelle's situation is desperate. Trapped by an incompetent body, and an even less competent father, she is in a precarious position. She comes close to death twice on the mountainside, but as she follows news coverage of a series of murders of children, she finds that danger could not be closer to home.
De Bruit Et De Fureur is again the story of a teenager who experiences a change in circumstances at the start of the film. Bruno is sent to live with his mother in the suburbs of a city. The setting is very different. Mountains are replaced by high rise flats, and a violent father by constant violence on the streets. Interestingly, Bruno's mother never appears on screen, and is only present on the telephone and in the notes that she leaves around the flat. Bruno seeks companionship and affection, and becomes heavily involved with a family from his apartment block, and in particular with the youngest son Jean Roger, who is in his class at school.
It seems that this family is to be his downfall, leading him along a path of motorbikes, gangs, drink, sexual violence and more. Jean Roger's father is a similarly unpredictable, mysterious and sinister character to Isabelle's father, also played by Cremer. It is this central character who proves to be the most influential and dangerous. He loves guns, encourages his eldest son to give up work, and fiercely protects his family, no matter what.
Away from his influence Bruno shows signs of being a sensitive soul, staying behind at school to improve his work, showing concern for Jean Roger's invalid grandfather, and looking after a canary who is of disproportionate importance to him. The bird becomes a central theme, representing freedom, escapism and opportunity. De Bruit Et De Fureur offers an insight into inner city life in France in the 1980s, particularly through the school and street scenes, and the devastation that can be found there…
These are sad stories of the need to belong and feel loved. None of the teenagers who appear in these two films truly belongs or experiences any love. Even Jean Roger, who delights in framing his teacher and setting people alight, is constantly seeking love from his father, and admiration from the gang he is desperate to join. Both films treat the re-education of a teenager who is placed in an unfamiliar situation and is losing control. They share an atmosphere of suspense, some touching and powerful performances, and an effective soundtrack, particularly in its use of silence.
Un Jeu Brutal And De Bruit Et De Fureur are certainly not uplifting, and are, at times, difficult to view, given some unusual sexual relationships and random acts of brutality. However, the plots are clever, the characters well developed and the performances extremely authentic.
Film: Tony Takitani
Release date: 24th July 2006
Certificate: U
Running time: 75 mins
Director: Jun Ichikawa
Starring: Issey Ogata, Rie Miyazawa
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
One shall be someone special to deserve the right to have his or her name as the title of a movie (Amélie Poulain, Zatoichi, Forrest Gump…) or any other form of artwork; Tony Takitani (Issey Ogata) is just a man whose existence is severely tainted with loneliness unwillingly.
The film actually starts with the period preceding Tony Takitani’s birth: it pictures the life of Shozaburo Takitani (also played by Issey Ogata) – Tony’s father – in the Japan of the early 1940s. Being a jazz player appreciated by the Chinese army leads him to experience the endless isolation of prison, and to witness the shallowness of life when death can knock unexpectedly on the door. He is released in 1946, and marries a relative, who then gives birth to their child, but dies three days after the delivery. Being a lonely man before everything – including paternity – Shozaburo momentarily disappears from the screen and from Tony’s solitary childhood; the latter becomes the central character of the story from that point.
In this framework, the audience witnesses Tony Takitani’s progress through different ages of his life: his childhood is followed by successful academic years in technical illustration, during which his drawings speak more accurately than his voice or his feelings, still mute apparently. Some years later, he meets Eiko (Rie Miyazawa), an elegant client – “born to dress up” – about fifteen years younger, in his workplace. In this favourable environment, where he can fully express himself – professionally speaking - he falls for her, and as a consequence, he tries to court her (with success, ultimately). Her presence brings him to a blissful life that he never experienced in the past, and simultaneously it makes him realise the long-time burden of loneliness that his life was carrying; thus he feels the fear of having it back. Also, her presence is not without any cost: Eiko fills the emptiness of her own existence with compulsive shopaholic behaviour, and whose taste for fashion is at a very high standard, fetching and unceasingly accumulating brand new clothes that she barely wears in actual fact. Unfortunately, Tony Takitani’s world of rapture fatally falls apart, soon after he asks the young woman to refrain from her demented obsession with designer labels.
This leads us at last to the third part of the story: while he mourns in silence, Tony Takitani advertises for a position similar to personal assistant, but whose primary requirements are physical measurements…
Based on the short story Tony Takitani by the successful Japanese author Haruki Murakami, the director Jun Ichikawa perfectly recreates important elements from the structure of short stories, such as a few characters, a context efficiently set into place, short descriptions or details, and an unexpected climax. But beyond this fidelity, he transforms the words into beautiful pictures, ornate with great aesthetics and without ostentation. Indeed, the whole movie runs like a timeline that nothing can stop from moving forward, no matter what happens - it records each scene into the past, with black-and-white photographed frames or close-up shots in dull tones. The whole visual experience is told by the smooth voice of the omniscient narrator (Nishijima Hidetoshi), who sails quietly along with the film, with neutrality or possibly disempowerment.
Moreover, the precise performance of Issey Ogata is admirable. Ogata plays Tony’s reserve about his inner misery with marvel, and without the slightest sign of betrayal. He possesses the relevant features to express the lack and the loss of emotions of the Takitani’s, both disengaged from post-World War II Japan – implicitly the most forlorn place on the Earth after the ravages of war, and of the nuclear bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. By playing both father and son, he initiates a reflection about the unfathomable bonds with family and cultural heritage, as for instance, when ‘they’ respectively lie on the floor of the rotten prison cell, and of the previously luxurious closet. As for Rie Miyzawa, her double interpretation of Eiko/Hisako is pretty accurate – especially when playing Eiko – but she does not succeed to transcend the superficiality and the emptiness that describes her characters’ reality. This is possibly because the focus is obviously on Tony, restricting thus the extent of her pervasiveness in his life - in any case, Eiko is described through the way she dresses (she “inhabits her clothes”) from the beginning, so it is not necessary to expect depth coming out of her haute-couture shell.
At last, the bonus features provide a making of that must be highlighted. The audience will get to discover that the whole shooting has been made in modest conditions that firstly have had no negative impact on the final cut, but above all, that has nothing to do with its quality.
Tony Takitani is a great tale about loneliness and emptiness that conveys a visual artwork of an ineffable beauty that is tending towards perfection. Its tiny weakest link is based on the emotions vanishing too quickly, but I give Jun Ichikawa the benefit of the doubt that it was a deliberate choice. MCR
Film: Lion’s Den
Release date: 24th May 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 113 mins
Director: Pablo Trapero
Starring: Martina Gusman, Elli Medeiros, Rodrigo Santoro
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: Argentina
Director Pablo Trapero is not one to shy away from controversy, and having tackled incest, immigration and corruption, his attention turned to the controversial subject of motherhood in prison.
The film opens with Julia, our leading lady, lying on her bed fully clothed - her pillow and hands covered in blood. She brushes the hair from her face, smearing the blood from her hands in the process. As she gets in the shower, we notice the side of her face and some of her back is cut up and badly hurt. She slowly washes the blood from herself and gets dressed. Her apartment is ransacked, the furniture has been toppled over, and there are two dead bodies – one being her partner.
An already pregnant Julia has no recollection of the events that led to these deaths, but given the damning evidence, she is soon incarcerated - forced to give birth to her child in a prison environment…
The Spanish jail system allows pregnant inmates to live together in a single block, separated from the other inmates. Once the baby is born, he/she can stay with their mum until the age of 4. The child is then taken away and put with the inmate’s family, or into state care.
Director Pablo Trapero holds nothing back in his portrayal of the characters and plot through his stark and often gritty directing, and the first scene is a perfect reflection of the dark realism which follows. It is difficult to watch a group of pregnant mothers sit in a circle practicing their breathing exercises, surrounded by squalor and mess, and there is no shortage of such scenes. It is even more difficult to watch these women raise their children in this environment - tiny little tots plodding around playing with saucepans and cups. We feel pity for these children who, for all intents and purposes, are imprisoned themselves. And this leads to a number of questions. Is it right for these children to be here? What is more important, the freedom of the outside world or for them to bond with their mothers? We rightly feel anger towards some of the inmates who have put their children in this situation - maybe some even became pregnant intentionally so they could be moved to a more comfortable wing - but, at the same time, seeing these inmates with their children adds a human element that is lost in a lot of other prison dramas. It forces the viewer to see the inmates as individuals; they are not just the crime they committed, but mothers and human beings.
The film also looks intensely at relationships. The primary focus is between Julia and her mother – who is intent in taking the child out of this undesirable environment, which ultimately leads to an exciting finale as Julia seeks to reconnect with her abducted child – but also the friendship/love affair that develops with one of the other inmates, Marta. The characters are written and performed to perfection, so we never feel as if the emotions on display are being faked. Julia changes and grows throughout the film as a result of these relationships, and we willingly go on the journey with her. It’s pretty intense, and there are some shocking scenes, but it never sensationalises and always engages.
Lion’s Den is a harrowing tale of love and deception that takes the viewer on a rollercoaster ride of thoughts and emotions. CC
Film: The Sea Wall
Release date: 8th March 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 111 mins
Director: Rithy Panh
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Gaspard Ulliel, Astrid Berges-Frisbey, Randal Douc, Vanthon Duong
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: France
An adaptation of Marguerite Duras' autobiographical novel of the same name, The Sea Wall chronicles the influential novelist and film director’s childhood in Cambodia.
The Duras family are living in Cambodia after buying land to farm rice. After the death of their father, the family are under constant strain with the children, Suzanne and Joseph, who threaten to leave their sick mother to look after the farm on her own. The crops end up to be trouble, as they are flooded by the sea tides, endangering the family's livelihood. As times worsen - getting turned down by the bankers and receiving threats from the French authorities who intend to seize their land, the family has to start taking drastic measures to support themselves.
With the arrival of a wealthy businessman, who takes a shine to Suzanne, the youngest of the family, they use the opportunity to take advantage for their own personal gain. However, relations between the French and the natives are worsening, and so is the mother’s health, as they try to construct a wall in order to protect from the threat of the sea tides. All the while, Joseph grows increasingly frustrated with home, and his rebellious streak is harder and harder to suppress…
From the very start of The Sea Wall, it is easy to tell that it is an adaptation - it lacks the pace, structure and story arc of a cinematic creation. It feels very accurate in the sense of a biographical tale, sticking to the point of view of the family as a run of anecdotal events that changed their future, and I'm sure as a work of literature this would be quite interesting, but it doesn't truly translate to the screen.
The start of The Sea Wall feels like it is drawing into a story of man-versus-nature, overcoming the odds, or at least trying to in order to rebuild a destroyed livelihood. It opens with some fantastic shots of the Cambodian scenery and the family's destroyed crops, and the promise of a tearjerker, set to the beautiful backdrop and landscape. The problem comes from its roots as a biographical adaptation in that the focus is solely on the family - the more interesting story would be that of the natives who are employed by the rich French landowners.
The story is reliant on the fact that the family are meant to be on the edge of their means - only just scraping by, and pushed to breaking point. As it is, though, they are getting by all right. They have a leaky roof, and they are quite miserable, but they are still going to the bar everyday drinking champagne, being waited on hand and foot by their workers, spending days working on cars, and mixing with the rest of the wealthy elite. There is just an overall atmosphere of malaise and misery that seems to run through the entire film that is so completely unemotional and cold. The mother, for example, angry at seeing the natives’ way of life being torn apart, has a completely dead and unemotional demeanour, understanding that she is not a well woman, lacking energy and beaten down by her troubles, it is still hard to identify with her
When there is the introduction of Monsieur Jo, a wealthy Chinese businessman who takes a shine to Suzanne, it is the family's intention to marry them off together in order to inherit his money and solve their problems. This relationship is cringingly cold and one sided, and it’s difficult to watch as a grown man makes his sexual advances on a 16-year-old girl, whilst all the time she is being taunted and teased by what seems to be pushing towards an incestuous brother/sister relationship. This is definitely the most interesting element of the film, but never delves far enough.
All this time, with the family seemingly whoring out their daughter, the son’s frustratingly smouldering rebellious antics, and the mother’s unenthusiastic anger, the natives are partaking in the most interesting element of the whole story as a very brief and occasional sub-plot. The sea wall, from which the film takes its title, seems to just appear out of nowhere, with no input from the family - simply all the native workers slaving away as the family did nothing to contribute. That seems to be the general perception - the family have things happen to them and do things that should have some consequence (they are thieves, adulterers and frauds), yet there are no repercussions.
Add to all this the fact that for a medium budget film with so many resources in the way of props, costumes and locations, the cinematography is boring. A point and click attitude to filming which feels so detached and lifeless.
If you have a particular interest in the life of Marguerite Duras then I'm sure there are many elements of The Sea Wall that could be enjoyed. As a cinematic experience, however, it falls very short of being engaging and interesting, saved only by the feel of true accuracy to the times and source material. JP
