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Film: Direct Contact
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 13th June 2011
Distributor: Lionsgate
Certificate: 18
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Danny Lerner
Starring: Dolph Lundgren, Gina May, Michael Paré, Bashar Rahal, James Chalke
Genre: Action/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: USA/Germany
Language: English/Bulgarian
Review by: Daryl Wing
A quick flick through perennial tough guy Dolph Lundgren’s back-catalogue makes for depressing reading. Superior movies like Masters Of The Universe (1987) and Rocky 4 (1985) are few and far between - even The Expendables (2010) and Universal Solider (1992) are standouts. Where did it all go wrong for this 1980s action hero? Or did it all go wrong? His films (47 and counting) may not be appreciated by an audience force-fed by Michael Bay, but he’s still doing what he does best. With The Expendables reviving interest in his career, Lionsgate Home Entertainment have decided to release 2009’s Direct Contact, in which Lundgren ditches his trademark scowl and plays the good guy, but does he still have the power?
Mike Riggins (Lundgren), an imprisoned ex-Special Forces operative in Eastern Europe, is offered his freedom (and lots of cash) to rescue an American woman, Ana Gale (Gina May), who has been kidnapped by a ruthless warlord.
Shortly after freeing her, Mike discovers that the kidnap story was just a ruse to bring Ana out into the open. Riggins suddenly finds himself and his feisty charge being hunted by ruthless government and underworld organizations - all who want him dead and the mysterious Ana under their control.
With no-one to turn to, and the enemies closing in, Mike must uncover the truth about Ana, gain her trust, and bring her to the safety of the US Embassy…
Arriving nearly two decades too late, Direct Contact isn’t going to appeal to anyone under the age of 25. Made with very little money, it fails to revel in the spectacle of Transformers (2007), doesn’t have the brains of The Bourne Identity (2002), and isn’t as much fun as either. For those raised on Commando (1985) and Hard Target (1993), however, it will certainly cater for some fleeting, good old-fashioned entertainment, sparing enough time throughout to reminisce about the good ol’ days when your dad would joyously accede to an eighteen-certificate instead of homework.
In today’s climate, it’s impossible to watch Danny Lerner’s actioner without chuckling at the cheapness of it all. But for some, that’s also half the fun. And yet, through it all, Direct Contact cleverly insists on taking itself seriously. It’s a gripping, intensely harrowing film with a solid emotional core, as both the hardened Mike and sympathetic-to-her-captors Ana find the conflict mirroring the transformations occurring within themselves. Or maybe not…
What you do have is a movie with no interest in dimensional characters. A permanent resident in the “worst prison in the world,” Lundgren’s Riggins doesn’t believe in small talk (his American accent more convincing than his real one), has no enthusiasm for anything other than money, but can dodge a speeding bullet and pulverize his foes with considerable, engaging ease. He also struggles to climb into a parked car, but the old-timer is approaching 60 so let’s cut him some slack.
His compatriot, meanwhile, certainly looks the part, but don’t expect any acting fireworks from an almost mute Gina May – leave that to the countless car chases and gun fights that thankfully distract from inflammable cardboard characters and dodgy dialogue (“I don’t care who the hell you are, I’m just damn glad I met you”). May’s performance does improve, but it’s debatable whether even a young Jodie Foster could persuade us that their character has fallen for her new captor quicker than you can say buckle up, and then go on to deliver such a wonderful chat-up line as, “How’s your wound?” with such sincerity. Luckily for her, James Chalke’s support performance as villain Uncle Trent is simply embarrassing.
The only way to enjoy Direct Contact is to embrace its utter nonsense. Revel in the shabby dialogue (“I just happen to have an extra ten grand” and “This guy’s a loose cannon” are up there with the best); and ignore the illogical, as a tank is called in to take down Riggins on a motorcycle, while a guard fails to hear a door slam ten yards away, with the big fella creeping around like a clumsy battle droid in his search for Ana, and the action is sped up to make the motorcycle scenes look that much more dramatic. It also fails with simple back projection techniques (Lundgren’s driving would surely send them into a ditch), and in this day and age, surely it’s cheaper to whack a camera on the bonnet of the car. It certainly disrupts an audience’s ability to suspend disbelief.
But then, the damage has already been done, with a couple of inspired shots: firstly, the aptly named Lerner introduces the classic point of view action sequence, as if we were in fact the motorcycle, terrorizing the unsuspecting public minding their own business on the sidewalks. He dares to do it again, this time the shot taken over the shoulder of a missile launched from the tank, missing its intended target, the bike, by miles. They don’t make them like this anymore. Or, rather, they shouldn’t make them like this anymore.
Sniping aside, Direct Contact is blessed by some decent fight choreography, plenty of half decent car chases and worthy shootouts (the standoff in the football stadium is extremely satisfying), and even surprises with its sporadic brutality. For some reason, the air turns blue after the half hour mark, with characters deciding to unleash the f-word for no other reason than to convince us how angry they are, but there’s still room for Lerner to at least get something right when a car flips over in near-silent slo-mo and then delivers his piece de resistance during the final act when Uncle Trent makes an explosive exit, and Lundgren delivers a truly killer line.
No-one would ever call it good filmmaking, but Direct Contact is old school trash of the first order. In short, this one’s for those raised on Schwarzenegger, Stallone and Seagal; the action is passable, and Lundgren is surprisingly good. Remove a star if you’re under 25. DW
Film: The Next Three Days
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 16th May 2011
Distributor: Lionsgate
Certificate: 12
Running time: 129 mins
Director: Paul Haggis
Starring: Russell Crowe, Elizabeth Banks, Michael Buie, Moran Atias, Remy Nozik
Genre: Crime/Drama/Romance/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: USA/France
Language: English
Review by: Chris Harris
Three years after French film Anything For Her earned critical acclaim beyond its shores, Fred Cavayé’s thriller gets a Hollywood makeover in the hands of Oscar-winning director Paul Haggis. Switching the action to the grim streets of Pittsburgh, Haggis casts Russell Crowe as the everyman who sets out to rescue his wife from jail. But does this remake retain the hallmarks of its French predecessor or is it merely a pale imitation?
If you’ve seen the original, you can probably skip this bit. If you haven’t, here’s the gist. John Brennan (Crowe) and his beautiful wife Lara (Elizabeth Banks) seem to have it all: a happy marriage, a healthy son and an enviable way of life. But their serene existence is blown apart when Lara is arrested in a morning raid for the murder of her boss.
Fast forward three years. Lara is suicidal, John has exhausted the appeal process and, increasingly desperate, he decides he has only one option left to him – to break her out of prison. Cue John’s descent into the underworld where he seeks out the advice of an ex-con (Liam Neeson) and gathers the tools he will need to execute his elaborate escape plan.
Plunged into danger, the stakes are raised when John receives news that Lara is about to be transferred to a new prison in the next three days (hence the film’s title). Convinced of his wife’s innocence, John is willing to risk everything for her freedom and their future together. But can an ordinary guy, a mild-mannered teacher no less, really pull off such an extraordinary act?
That conundrum was the central theme of the original and it remains the most compelling idea on show in Haggis’ remake. Could you embrace danger for a just cause? Do you have the single-minded determination to step out of your comfort zone and into the abyss? Would you cosy up to hardened criminals if the ends justified the means?
The answer for John Brennan is, of course, a resounding yes. “I’m hopeless without my wife. I can’t even ride a bike,” he admits. More intriguingly, he gives a clue about his state of mind in a question put to his class: “What part of life is truly under control? What if we chose to exist in a reality of our own making - does that render us insane?” Haggis never really explores this issue as thoroughly as he might.
Anything For Her was hailed as a riveting thriller illuminated by a stand-out performance from lead actor Vincent Lindon and a menacing score by Klaus Badelt. But for all its plusses, the original was dogged by concerns over the plot’s plausibility. As any parent (let alone single parent) will tell you, when you’ve got a job to hold down, a child to raise, a home to maintain and meals to cook, there really isn’t time to break your nearest and dearest out of jail.
Frankly, those accusations of implausibility are even harder to ignore in Haggis’ movie. The director brings the action bang up to date – there’s a reference to the Haiti earthquake while John charges around taking pictures and timing security procedures on his iPhone – but, if anything, the gloss that Hollywood inevitably applies makes the story even less convincing.
The tone is set by an early scene on the morning of Lara’s arrest. The Brennans are sat in their kitchen, perfectly groomed, perfectly behaved, enjoying a perfect breakfast. It’s a million miles from the chaotic rush, bedraggled hair and possible hangover that afflicts most families at that time of day. Perhaps a less idyllic, more realistic depiction would help the audience sympathise with the Brennans’ plight once their lives are turned upside down.
If you don’t have to stifle a chuckle during that portrait of a ‘normal family life’, you might when Lara enters the visiting room three years into her sentence. Her hair is soft, her skin is vibrant and her lipstick is perfectly applied - those 36 months behind bars don’t appear to have taken any toll whatsoever. Once again, the air-brushed sheen of Haggis’ movie creates a disconnection between the supposedly beleaguered characters and the audience observing their plight.
Then there’s Russell Crowe. In many ways this is a reprise of his role in another recent remake, State of Play, in which his run-of-the-mill journalist is lured into a web of intrigue and danger. But the problem with Crowe is that he’s so recognisable as an action hero (Gladiator, Robin Hood) or a tough guy (LA Confidential) that it’s hard to train your brain to accept him as the ‘average guy’ he plays in The Next Three Days. That’s not his fault, it’s a casting issue, but it only serves to amplify the sense of disbelief as events unfold.
There’s nothing wrong with Crowe’s performance, but he seems in far less danger than his predecessor in the role, Vincent Lindon, simply because he is rugged, well-built and can clearly handle himself. Lindon doesn’t look like he belongs among the rough and tumble of the underworld, but the brooding Crowe does.
Not that Crowe is ever outshone by his co-stars. Banks is so-so as Lara, appearing far less drained than a supposed victim of a miscarriage of justice should; Neeson growls his way through his cameo as ex-con Damon Penington; and Brian Dennehy offers some gravitas as John’s quiet, world-weary father.
Predictably the action is ramped up for the big finale and this is watchable enough, but Haggis loses marks for dragging his feet. The Next Three Days is half-an-hour longer than Anything For Her, essentially because its director cannot resist a few extra flourishes during the film’s denouement. Every dramatic sequence is squeezed to the maximum while Haggis lobs in a few curveballs that don’t appear in the original. It all hints at a lack of confidence with what has been laid out in the first ninety minutes.
There are laugh-out-loud moments, but not for the right reasons. For a man trying to fly under the radar, John’s insistence on screeching his brakes make him the most conspicuous driver in Pittsburgh. Then, having spent so long racing against the clock, the Brennans find time for a reflective scene that clashes with everything that’s gone before.
If you’re still with The Next Three Days at this point, then good luck to you. But while Anything For Her was a taut, tense thriller, its remake is flabbier, sanitised and more contrived. If you didn’t know better, that might be okay. But when you’ve seen the superior original, it feels like a waste of two hours. CH
Film: Little White Lies
Release date: 15th April 2011
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 154 mins
Director: Guillaume Canet
Starring: Marion Cotillard, François Cluzet, Benoit Magimel, Gilles Lellouche, Laurent Lafitte
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: Cinema
Country: France
In 2006, Guillaume Canet took the world by storm with his astoundingly successful thriller Tell No One. This sophomore film by the young director introduced not only himself but modern French cinema to a much wider audience. As such the film’s popularity (both critically and financially) led many critics to predict a ‘new wave’ of the French Nouvelle Vague to resurge upon our shores – which to an extent it did with films such as, Diving Bell & the Butterfly, Mesrine and I’ve Loved You So Long all faring relatively well. Canet’s much anticipated follow up, Little White Lies was the second highest grossing film in France last year (only just behind Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows). Yet with its tremendously inward looking and nationalistic blend of comedy and drama, will this charming expose of the laboured friendship of eight wealthy friends resonate with the same widespread success over here or remain one strictly for British Francophiles?
We join these carefree socialites just days before departing on one of their ritual summer vacations. But when a sudden horrific traffic accident lands one of their party in intensive care (Ludo) they find their plans have to be reassessed. As he fights for his life, his friends have a seemingly difficult decision to make. Do they stay and watch over their seriously ill friend, or instead leave him, and go ahead with their original plans anyway? They soon convince themselves that by cutting short their break by a couple of weeks, they’ll be able to get the much needed rest they feel they deserve, whilst being back in time to tend to Ludo once he regains consciousness. It’s a choice that many would frown upon, and as events unfold, it would appear they’d be correct. This decision soon becomes a classic example of ‘an elephant in the room’ as it slowly starts to over-shadow any enjoyment that is to be had, gradually illuminating the Little White Lies that threaten to tear apart the fragile fibres holding the group together.
The holiday is funded by Max (Francois Cluzet), something of an older brother figure to the group, who allows his younger acquaintances to gallivant around his opulent beach house, eat from his bountiful fridge, and take trips into town on his lavish power boat. It all sounds rather generous, until you realise he seizes any opportunity to make this fact abundantly clear to the eternal teenagers he chooses to mingle with. It’s at these strikingly charmless moments that we begin to realise that this high strung restaurant owner is purely obsessed with material wealth, and masks his egotistical desire to be respected with hand-outs and charity.
Also amongst this selection of the crème-de-la-crème of French acting talent we have Marie (played by recent Hollywood leading lady, and Guillaume Canet’s wife, Marion Cotillard), a pot smoking, heavy drinking, self-proclaimed ethnologist, whose penchant to study others is no more than an attempt to prevent studying herself. She’s a perfect example of the emotional damage which can be caused by continually putting off tomorrow.
Next there’s Eric (Gilles Lellouche), a failing actor who softens the crippling effects of his faltering career by pursuing a life of infidelity. Yet, when his girlfriend breaks up with him after her attempts to garnish a little more commitment from him fail, he struggles to truly convey his heartbreak, instead hiding behind the same persona he has created to mask his other numerous shortcomings...
What unravels is a thoughtful, unashamedly sentimental and genuine film about friendships and family ties. This seemingly cluttered cast, at first, look like nothing more than superficial, pretentious clichés of the modern French bourgeoisie society. An example of those who have disregarded their traditional family values in favour of a lifestyle fuelled solely by desires of the flesh and an apparent need to escape the hardships of life through a state of constant inebriation. Yet, somehow, despite the apparent detached moods of each character, director Guillaume Canet manages to shine a light on the inner beauty inside all of them. This is achieved through a subtle use of elegantly framed and perfectly timed close ups, combined with some incredibly evocative and sincere dialogue.
The pivotal and shrewd role of Jean-Louis (the oyster farmer) should also not be forgotten. He is more than just a periphery character, but instead an important voice of reason and statue of moral purity with which to both judge, and then lead the group to redemption. He is our window into this world of opulence, like an ambassador for many of us viewing who fail to feel sorry for these spoilt, immature and quite abhorrently melodramatic characters. It’s partly down to the inclusion of this divisive role that makes Canet sprawling character drama a successful searching piece of film, which, regardless of class or age, takes you on a journey to the extremes of human emotions.
There’s an obvious nod towards films such as The Big Chill, Mes Meilleurs Copains and Un Elephant ca Tromp Enormement, but Canet openly admits these sources of inspiration, and has stated that he was always attempting to make a “friends movie.” His achievement in creating some of the most magnificently realistic looking friendships to ever grace the big screen is worthy of the highest praise. Apparently this feat was produced by insisting that all cast members spend two weeks prior to filming at the cabin the film was to be shot. He wanted them to learn each other’s mannerisms, as well as seemingly minute details, like where the knives and forks were kept. It clearly works, and at no point should you ever feel like you’re watching actors ‘pretending’ to get along. It’s this natural feeling atmosphere which ensures that the emotive traps set throughout the course of the film are truly effective.
With a runtime of 154 minutes, Little White Lies is perhaps guilty of being a little too self-indulgent. Some of the scenes are strung out far too long, giving the impression that the cast were having far too much fun filming to take into consideration the dwindling attention span of the audience. However, a film with such an extensive list of high profile stars was always going to be accused of either being too long, or guilty of under developing characters. The closing third, unfortunately, does suffer mildly because of this, and as tempers begin to flare and lessons start to be learnt, the impact is slightly diluted - Canet’s lofty ambition to tie up the high volume of loose ends results in an ever so slightly clumsy, and toothless final act.
As with his previous directorial work, Canet also still seems determined to show off his expansive record collection, through a heavy-handed use of non-diegetic sound. It’s used in an attempt to help amplify the feeling of certain scenes, and evoke a stronger emotional reaction than perhaps he feels comfortable achieving through simple dialogue and framing alone. It’s a negative viewpoint that’s incredibly subjective. Depending on your musical tastes, it’ll either come across as ingenious or momentarily cringe worthy. Yet a film built on a strong foundation of meticulous character development, viscerally beautiful cinematography and such rich ideas, as are present here, shouldn’t need such un-subtle devices to enhance the mood of key moments.
Like a modern day sitcom, but without the furious pace and mainstream sensibilities, Little White Lies may lack the thrill a minute, breakneck action of Tell No One, but is certainly no worse a film for it. What could have been a cluttered, pompous mess of a drama is instead an accomplished and immersive (if perhaps overly long) subtle blend of genuinely, laugh out loud comedy and effectively moving tragedy. Little White Lies will ultimately leave you feeling emotionally exhausted by the end - regardless of whether you’re an auteur of French cinema or not. PG
Walking the fine line between laughter and tears Canet directs some of France’s most skilful performers to deliver startlingly intimate performances. As we learn of each character’s flaws we also understand the bond between the friends, and recognise ourselves in them.
Every year Max (François Cluzet), a successful restaurant owner, invites his family and friends to his beautiful beach house. This year, before they leave Paris, one of the group (Jean Dujardin) is seriously hurt in a traumatic accident. The friends decide to go ahead with their holiday, but the accident sets off a dramatic chain of reactions and emotional responses.
The eagerly anticipated vacation leads each of the protagonists in turn to raise the veil that for years has covered their true feelings. Their relationships, convictions and friendships are sorely tested when finally forced to own up to the little white lies they have been telling each other.
Film: Little White Lies
Release date: 15th April 2011
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 154 mins
Director: Guillaume Canet
Starring: Marion Cotillard, François Cluzet, Benoit Magimel, Gilles Lellouche, Laurent Lafitte
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: Cinema
Country: France
Film: I've Loved You So Long
Release date: 9th February 2009
Certificate: 12
Running time: 117 mins
Director: Philippe Claudel
Starring: Kristin Scott Thomas, Elsa Zylberstein, Serge Hazanavicius, Laurent Grevill, Frederic Pierrot
Genre: Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: DVD
Country: France/Germany
This critically-acclaimed, character-led French drama scooped the BAFTA for Best Foreign Film in 2009 with prizes elsewhere for its writer and first-time director Philippe Claudel plus his two leading ladies, Kristin Scott Thomas and Elsa Zylberstein.
It is the tale of two sisters trying to rebuild their relationship after fifteen years of separation. Juliette (Scott Thomas) is haunted by the secret she hoards and weighed down by the guilt she carries for the crime that landed her in prison. Léa (Zylberstein) is younger and married with two children but is eager to bring Juliette back into the fold despite the risk of alienating her husband, Luc (Serge Hazanavicius).
So what has Juliette done - and why? Her shocking crime is unveiled as she attends job interviews, meets her welfare officer or signs in at the police station. Yet it remains unmentionable in the family home. “I was away on a long trip,” is her explanation as Léa’s daughter, P'tit Lys (Lise Ségur) innocently and enthusiastically cross-questions Juliette at the dinner table shortly after her arrival.
Léa’s hospitality and determination to shed her own guilt after being urged by her parents to disown Juliette is counter-balanced by Luc’s barely-disguised hostility – he feels he has legitimate concerns for his family’s safety. Juliette makes other more accepting acquaintances along the way – notably Léa’s colleague Michel (Laurent Grévill) and Captain Fauré (Frédéric Pierrot) – as she tries to forge a future in the shadow of her damning past…
The first thing to say about I’ve Loved You So Long is this: if you enjoy watching Scott Thomas, you’ll be in clover. Only Claudel can say whether he wrote the character of Juliette with her in mind, but it is undoubtedly a perfect fit. Few actors can convey so much while saying so little and Scott Thomas delivers a master class. Which is just as well – she’s barely off-screen.
Born in Cornwall, Scott Thomas used to be considered a quintessentially English actor, best known for her role in The English Patient. But she says she considers herself more French than British, and even offered a tongue-in-cheek apology to her legion of English fans for the increasingly Gallic flavour of her output since the turn of the century. When she produces vintage work such as this, Scott Thomas can be forgiven for that – and pretty much anything else.
This is less a story, more a study of the relationships that Juliette must tolerate and nurture as she feels her way back into society. We meet her in the first scene and it’s clear that this integration is reluctantly undertaken. Léa runs towards her in the airport but Juliette - fragile, uncomfortable and smoking incessantly - would rather keep her own counsel. Back at the house, it’s no surprise she is drawn towards Luc’s mute father, Papy Paul (delightfully played by Jean-Claude Arnaud), the one character who won’t engage her in awkward conversation.
Scott Thomas deftly takes Juliette through a subtle transition. At first, she cannot help but drag all and sundry down with her. Snapping at P'tit Lys, coldly dismissing a chance sexual conquest and sucking the enthusiasm out of her eager-to-please sister, Juliette seems intent on biting the hand that feeds.
And yet, as the days and weeks unfold, chinks of light appear through the gloom. Juliette softens, finding joy in a burgeoning relationship with P'tit Lys that is played out through piano lessons. She discovers a soulmate in Michel, reserving by far her longest and most frank utterances for him. She even becomes a crutch on which Captain Fauré can lean – a character who reminds Juliette that she is not the only tortured soul out there.
But Scott Thomas is perhaps at her best during her scenes with Hazanavicius. While Léa requires no winning over, Luc makes no secret of his mistrust and disdain for her. Juliette knows her presence exposes a fault line between her sister and brother-in-law, and it’s compelling to watch how Claudel edges Juliette and Luc towards mutual respect. Scott Thomas and Hazanavicius handle these psychological pigeon steps beautifully, not least in a stand-out scene where Luc’s frostiness thaws after a surprise request from his daughter.
It’s worth mentioning the score at this stage. For the vast majority of Claudel’s film, there is none to speak of. But during key scenes, like the aforementioned, an acoustic flourish from Jean-Louis Aubert lends weight. It’s a tribute to the acting that silence works best for the most part.
The same rule applies to Claudel’s script. Crucially it is sparse enough to allow for the speechlessness that such shocking subject matter requires. But at the same time, Claudel, a novelist for many years, manages to keep the story moving at a decent enough pace.
With Scott Thomas in such stunning form, it’s difficult to take your eyes off her. But to overlook Juliette’s fellow characters would do a disservice to a brilliant cast. Zylberstein is outstanding and utterly believable as Léa, the ‘glue’ that holds the film together. Juliette feels the deepest pain but Léa has the most to lose after risking the equilibrium of her family unit by allowing this ‘alien body’ to invade it.
Despite this obvious dilemma, Léa’s loyalty for her sibling never wanes from the moment she rushes towards Juliette in the opening scene. Getting emotionally closer will prove far tougher but Léa, with ghosts of her own to exorcise, probes for common ground as they learn to be sisters again. Inevitably, this involves reminiscing about their shared days of innocence – before Juliette’s guilt changed their lives. Léa admonishes herself for her hazy memory, knowing full well it’s the only touchstone they have.
Zylberstein plays the stoic ‘fixer’ superbly and briefly steals the show when, finally, it all gets too much and she verbally assaults one of her students while debating Dostoevsky’s ‘Crime And Punishment’ - a work of fiction with echoes of her sister’s reality. Zylberstein won the César for Best Supporting Actress for her contribution to this film - and it’s easy to see why.
When you sum up I’ve Loved You So Long, it’s clear that Scott Thomas is the heart and soul of this enthralling melodrama about guilt, grief, forgiveness and family. Claudel’s script gives her the platform to produce a career-defining performance in which every word, every expression, every sigh is measured to perfection. CH
This is an English-language release.
Animated road trip adventure.
Kate (voiced by Hayden Panettiere) and Humphrey (Justin Long) are two young wolves from a National Park in Canada who find themselves shipped halfway across the country by the park's rangers.
While Humphrey is a streetwise, fun-loving Omega wolf, Kate is a sleek and sophisticated Alpha wolf and considers herself Humphrey's superior. Thrown together in a foreign land, and faced with a journey of over a thousand miles to get back home and restore peace on their warring home turf, the two must overcome their differences and learn to look out for each other.
Film: Alpha And Omega
Release date: 21st February 2011
Certificate: U
Running time: 88 mins
Director: Anthony Bell & Ben Gluck
Starring: Justin Long, Hayden Panettiere, Dennis Hopper, Danny Glover, Larry Miller
Genre: Animation
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: DVD
Country: India/USA
Film: The Lives Of Others
Release date: 17th September 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 137 mins
Director: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Starring: Martina Gedeck, Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Tukur, Hans Bauer, Ulrich Mühe
Genre: Thriller/Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
With an Oscar to its credit, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s 2007 German film drama of life in Stasi East Germany enjoyed perhaps the best possible critical reception. With von Donnersmarck’s next offering, The 28th Amendment due in cinemas next year, it is a timely moment to consider the film that brought this director to international prominence.
The story follows grim and efficient Stasi secret police captain Wiesler in his task of spying on controversial playwright, Dreyman, and his beautiful actress lover, Christa-Maria. At first, Wiesler sees this work as an opportunity to impress his superiors by exposing Dreyman and his artists’ clique as subversive enemies of the State, thereby securing his position amongst the Stasi’s elite.
Soon, however, the maelstrom of passions, ideas and music he hears through the regime’s hidden listening devices lead Wiesler to see that such things are missing from his own life, and that the harsh efficiency of the State is cold comfort.
A man used to following orders, Wiesler begins to question his role, and to doubt the moralities of a system he is a part of. He becomes almost intoxicated with his subjects to the point that he will risk everything to save them…
The film is very effective in encouraging its audience to enter into the voyeuristic world of its protagonist. Like Ulrich Mühe’s Weisler, it seduces the viewer through the glimpses of glamour and passion for creativity that burns all the brighter amid the sterile setting of 1980s East Germany. Iron curtain Germany is portrayed as a paranoid, militarised state – functional and unjust in equal measure. This gives the film a more timeless narrative feel akin to the patient taut build up of a Polanski classic than a modern commercialised studio beast.
Quickly, we learn that the cold apparatus of State control is still subject to the all too human whims of those in power. Sebastian Koch’s writer Dreyman is put under surveillance by a corrupt official seeking to have his way with the glamorous Christa-Maria. It is perhaps fitting, then, that the seductive passion of their lives soon becomes the only thing that can save them, as Wiesler’s training, and even his loyalty begin to buckle under the strain of the freedom of thought, expression and desire emanating from his crackling headphones.
In contrast, the artists too are portrayed almost childlike - flawed yet romanticised individuals unable to contain the passions that threaten to destroy them. They are powerless, yet possessed of more powerful tools to shape human thought than the near Orwellian ‘thought police’ could ever hope to master.
In spite of such emotive and powerful conflict - a clash of artistic abandon and political, doctrinal constraint - the film’s greatest achievement is the unfussy simplicity with which it conveys the story.
Much praise for this belongs to the cast. Ulrich Mühe’s quiet, dignified and, at times, unsettling portrayal of Wiesler allows for the film to unfold at a steady, metronomic pace that lends much to the tension that builds to a climax in the final third. Sebastian Koch is utterly believable as a writer struggling to strike a balance between the revolutionary ideas of his friends and the cosy idyllic domestic bliss of his romance. Martina Gedeck lends a cornered vulnerability to Christa-Maria, making her own agonising choices painfully clear without recourse to melodrama.
This understated choice is reinforced by von Donnersmarck’s tightly written script - arresting, contemplative, visual direction - and Gabriel Yared and Stephane Moucha’s subtle score, which are, in combination, suggestive without being overtly manipulative.
Some of the film’s most poignant moments are born out of its context within history. Set in 1985, the Stasi officers’ belief in the unfailing continuity of their regime is never questioned even by the revolutionary artists. Whilst there is both despair and resignation in the face of the actions of the State, no-one ever suggests that it might end just four short years later, and the fall of the Berlin Wall, when it arrives in the film, is greeted most prevailingly with surprise.
Perhaps the most enduring suggestion made by the film’s villainous Minister Bruno Hempfh is that artists secretly revel in, and long for the days of creative limitation and political constraint because these are the moments in which art is truly powerful, or perhaps more tellingly, the moments in which artists are feared by those in power. History tells us that this fear is justified, and The Lives Of Others, through the story of Wiesler, the small man, the cog in the machine and his lonely, draughty enlightenment through the stolen whisperings and embraces of two flawed idealists, captures this to perfection. In doing so, it justifies the critical reward the film has ultimately and deservedly gained.
Whilst modern masterpiece is a phrase that is coined all too often, The Lives Of Others is a genuine contender for such a label. A great story, subtle, artful filmmaking, and characters that leave an enduring impression upon an audience make this everything one could ask for from a cinematic experience. NB
Film: The Lives Of Others
Release date: 17th September 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 137 mins
Director: Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
Starring: Martina Gedeck, Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Tukur, Hans Bauer, Ulrich Mühe
Genre: Thriller/Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: DVD
Country: Germany
A lengthy political thriller that doesn’t have you snoozing by midway. Not a Matt Damon vehicle then!
Gerd Weisler is a leading Stasi officer dedicated to the socialist cause; assigned to oversee the surveillance of playwright George Dreyman, whose loyalty to the SED (Social Unit Party) has been called into question.
As a matter of DDR security, Weisler goes about his work with his usual discipline and efficiency (setting up surveillance HQ in the suspect’s apartment’s attic, and bugging the premises), but he soon has his staunch beliefs called into question, as he discovers there are ulterior motives behind his assignment – and realises that his own life is particularly unfulfilled…
The film is quick to paint Weisler as a remorseless and an unflinching character – opening with footage of an interrogation he undertook with a person suspected of helping a friend flee to the West, a recording of which is being used at a Stasi college, we are left in no doubt that Weisler always gets ‘his man’ – when he marks a cross against the name of a student who dares to question the morality of the methods he adopts here, you sense he’s capable of a lot more.
His life in East Germany, like him, is painted as cold and uninviting. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck is perhaps a little heavy handed with the stereotype here, but it’s effective for the character’s and the story’s quick development – when we visit his flat, in an almost desolate area, it’s minimal, almost bare, and when Weisler wants affection he’s forced to pay for an overweight, unattractive prostitute who literally ups and leaves for her next client as soon as he’s finished.
Given the darkness that pervades his own existence, its little surprise when Weisler begins to warm to his subject, who lives a more comfortable and joyous lifestyle –he steals an illegal western book from his apartment, with the unsubtle bright yellow cover contrasting with the otherwise washed out, grey visuals. The film lights here also, to show how his bleak life is instantly enriched.
The bald Ulrich Mühe is well cast as Weisler, ably conveying his character’s intense nature aesthetically alone, and very subtle in his development of a new found awareness and conscious – the scene in a lift where a child reveals his father’s dissident views is particularly important, offering a clear indication of Weisler’s inner struggles.
Another significant development is when Weisler realises the real motives for his friend, Minister Bruno Hempf, having him undertake this operation. As with Weisler, the audience is made aware of the Culture Minister’s nature straight away – when he takes a fancy to the playwright’s actress girlfriend (played by the darkly beautiful Martina Gedeck) he crudely grabs her rear in public.
Thomas Thieme is suitably seedy in the role of the corrupt minister, systematically raping the playwright’s girlfriend (who fears the damning of her career if she doesn’t accept these events), and showing there is no loyalty to Weisler when the results he expects do not materialise. This is all about personal gain and not about the greater cause, which is what Weisler has always believed in.
As Weisler begins to assist the increasingly downtrodden playwright (removing/withholding evidence), director von Donnersmarck heightens the tension, and does a great job of illustrating the confused and depraved nature of the time, where an actress fearing the end of her fairly insignificant career would be willing to see a man she loves dealt a harsh and likely fatal punishment.
A humourless, dark and regimentally delivered thriller, perfectly representative of the time and the story, whose grip tightens to the very end. DH
