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Film: Aguirre, Wrath Of God
Release date: 28th February 2000
Certificate: PG
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Werner Herzog
Starring: Klaus Kinski, Ruy Guerra, Helena Rojo, Del Negro, Peter Berling
Genre: Adventure/Biography/Drama/History
Studio: Stonevision
Format: DVD
Country: West Germany
Largely viewed as a cornerstone of New German cinema, this was the film that, as it was being made, saw director Werner Herzog’s life unfold before him. Ten years after the completion of this film he made another, Fitzcarraldo (1982), which he claimed he would live or end his life by. That film will be what Herzog is most remembered for. So, in a sense, his visions of “destiny” while making Aguirre, Wrath of God were correct. In other words, Werner’s filmmaking journey has been the overriding passion and priority in his life, largely due to the martyr-like commitment he has made to his films. And while that film making odyssey peaked at Fitzcarraldo it was with Aguirre... that he really began his journey.
In the aftermath of the defeat of the Inca Empire, a Spanish expedition begins its quest for the legendary city of El Dorado. For the promise of gold and fortunes, the expedition battle all manner of environmental obstacles in search of this place, constantly motivated by the restless energy of second-in-command Aguirre.
While their quest is difficult enough, the perilous cause is handicapped by infighting and differences of opinion. As Aguirre’s ego and obsession slowly threaten to consume the mission whole, the expedition seemingly evolves into the search for a mirage....
Although it is true that there are numerous parallels between this film and Fitzcarraldo., Aguirre, Wrath Of God is much darker in tone. Whereas Fitzcarraldo made you think that almost anything is possible, despite being dominated by the exploits of a man who teeters on the edge of control - not to mention sanity - Aguirre... is much less joyous. Aguirre... tells us that nature will decide what is possible for man to achieve and that man is his own worst enemy. It is the story of an individual’s insatiable desire for wealth, power and fame, irrespective of the damage and misery it incurs for those around him.
Herzog’s film has its roots in the genre of the historical drama. These roots are manifested to some extent in the narrative, which, for the first two acts, revolves around the struggle for dominance of the exploration troop. On one side is Lieutenant Ursua and on the other is Aguirre. Through his use of various devious tactics, Aguirre attempts to manipulate the men around him in order to gain control of the troop and the overall expedition. Even though the titular character has been instructed to act as second-in-command, Aguirre is fascinating in his determination, and his methods often take the audience by surprise. What is particularly of interest to the audience is his unwillingness to visibly take the lead, preferring instead to manipulate via his persuasive skills. In this portion of the film, Aguirre intrigues us as a mysterious, brooding figure, who nonetheless has the strength and will to command the troop in any manner he wanted, if he chose to do so. This is all anchored, of course, by Klaus Kinski’s masterful portrayal of the protagonist.
While the narrative developments concerning the exploration of the Amazonian wilderness and the balance of power are involving, these traditional aspects of historical drama are not the main emphasis of this film. Herzog’s true aim is to disorientate the viewer, who is ostensibly there to watch a story unfold but actually sees something altogether different. It begins with the viewer being arrested by the plodding pace of the film, which, combined with the ghostly beauty of the ethereal soundtrack by Popol Vuh, opens the viewer up to receiving the various undercurrents of the film. These undercurrents projected through the director’s visual focus on the natural environment, such as the early slow-motion shot of the river flowing in full force, are Herzog’s way of communicating the ruthlessness of nature and the role this will play in the film. This concept is one that repeats throughout the filmmaker’s work, including Fitzcarraldo. However, inAguirre, Wrath Of God, we are witness to a group of characters being unable to overcome the power of nature. Apart from the disconcerting scenes demonstrating the suffering endured as a result of their ill-advised venture into the wild, there is an almost indescribable presence of nature itself in the film, permeating it from start to finish. Enigmatic and chilling, Herzog weaves these elements into a film of strange and surreal yet somehow edifying qualities.
Ultimately, this is a film driven by the endeavours of man, and the man depicted here is insane. Like other Herzog protagonists, Aguirre is consumed with desire and has no regard those around him. In the final act, the film effectively conveys the grinding process of reaching the inevitable in this doomed mission, as the troop begin to waste away. Even as Herzog subjects his audience to the draining reality of this degenerative situation, he still captures quirky details in and amongst the wilderness that surrounds the men, and shows the environment to be an unflinching foe that stares back callously at the weakness of these mortals.
Authentic, captivating and stultifying in equal measure, Aguirre, Wrath Of God is a visceral portrait of an indomitable, relentless character. Whether that character is Aguirre, the natural wilderness or both only makes Herzog’s film more mind-altering and unsettling, and is all the better because of it. BN
Film: Funny Games
Release date: 25th May 2009
Certificate: 18
Running time: 104 mins
Director: Michael Haneke
Starring: Susanne Lothar, Ulrich Mühe, Arno Frisch, Frank Giering
Genre: Horror/Drama/Crime/Thriller
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Austria
As you may have heard, this film is not an easy one to watch. Neither the more recent American remake, nor the twelve years that have passed since Funny Games was first released have diminished its impact. Some may instantly flinch at the mention of the word ‘torture’ and assume that this is the reason why people have cautioned against it. However, this is not Audition - and it certainly is not Hostel. What you’re getting here is what horror truly is. Michael Haneke here makes us contemplate what it means to display true malevolence on the screen. And he does so with such intelligence and restraint, it causes you to ask whether the outrage was necessary. From there on, you may be forced to ask whether we can make films as open and honest as we like, and whether or not there is any point to this medium at all. Hopefully, viewing Haneke’s film now will remind you that there most definitely is a point.
A family of three are greeted by blissful sunny weather at a lakeside holiday home, the location for what promises to be a relaxing, refreshing break. It is not long before this promise of tranquillity becomes disrupted, however. It is when the mother, Anna (Susanne Lothar), is in the kitchen that she meets Peter (Frank Giering), one half of the duo that will bring misery upon her and her family in the hours to come.
When Paul (Arno Frisch) enters, the three family members quickly become prisoners in their own home, subjected to unbearable treatment at the hands of apparently motiveless captors. Only resilience and cunning can be of any use to the family in escaping their torment…
In the introductory scene of this film, director Michael Haneke illustrates, with no ambiguity whatsoever, two of the primary themes that haunt this film throughout: manipulation and menace. As Georg (Ulrich Mühe) and Anna drive peacefully with their son along a road that winds through an idyllic mountain side, they are accompanied by the sound of gentle classical music that emanates from their in-car cassette player. As soon as we have become relaxed in the ambience of this moment, the peace is suddenly shattered by the cacophonous blaring of a John Zorn track. The viewer is jolted by the screaming and thrashing of this sonic pandemonium, before the words ‘Funny Games’ pounce onto the screen in a bloody shade of red.
The menace exuded from Haneke’s film begins once the sadistic duo of Peter and Paul take control of the holiday home, and remains intact until the terrifying ordeal is over. It is largely due to this inescapable menace that the film is such an arresting, harsh viewing experience. By occasionally leading his characters away from the main setting as the plot develops, thus extending and amplifying the terror and panic in suspenseful scenes, Funny Games displays familiar tropes of the horror genre. This notion is exemplified in other areas of the film, such as the unforgettable motif of the golf ball. With this in mind, the radical approach of Haneke in subverting horror genre conventions is tangible, taking the form of a minimalist aesthetic, long-takes, cutting away from violent acts and significant post-production techniques.
While the film works brilliantly as a genre piece, where the viewer elects not to engage so much with its cerebral content, it positively shines when viewed from an intellectual position. In this fashion, it can be fully received as the genuinely important work of cinema that it is. The manner in which Haneke communicates his message is certainly confrontational - blatantly manipulating his film and breaking the illusion of film being unadulterated reality delivered by an unseen creator. However, the filmmaker’s message about how violence is depicted on the screen, and how it is viewed, is articulated with very few depictions of violence itself. This is where the filmmaker should be really applauded. Incredibly, for a film where violence is such a key plot element due to it being the manner in which Peter and Paul control the captive family, barely a drop of blood is spilt. Furthermore, even when an act of violence is captured on the camera, the cinematography could be hardly less graphic. And still, the film is unbearably taut - perhaps because so much of it is based on the power of suggestion. That the filmmaker is able to keep us gripped so tightly utilising this restrained approach is demonstrative of his undeniable skill as a director.
Just as unexpected as this is the fact that, in the midst of this physical and psychological torment, the audience becomes a part of the game as well. It is possible that this is another reason - albeit a subconscious one - that the viewer is more aware of the violence that unfolds in that living room. As a consequence of the viewer becoming an accomplice to Peter and Paul’s heinous plans, Haneke questions the nature of audience reception. Further into the film, as the brutality increases and the once content, settled middle-class family become enfeebled to the point of being pitiful, the contrasting confidence and command over the situation that the antagonists provide may be preferable to some, thus reaffirming Haneke’s point about how a filmmaker can manipulate a viewer’s feelings.
Funny Games is largely reliant also on the efforts of its leading actors to carry each scene with conviction. All four leads all do this with merit, giving superb performances, from Giering and Frisch’s clinical delivery, to Mühe and Lothar’s devastating portrayals of trauma and suffering.
Simple yet complex, subtle yet overt, Funny Games is many things, but just a straightforward horror/thriller involving the theme of torture, it is not. This is a film that deserves your attention, and is guaranteed to get it, too. BN
Film: Noi Albino
Release date: 24th May 2004
Certificate: 15
Running time: 91 mins
Director: Dagur Kari
Starring: Tomas Lemarquis, Throstur Leo Gunnarsson, Elin Hansdottir, Anna Friðriksdóttir, Hjalti Rögnvaldsson
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Iceland/Germany/UK/Denmark
In a place where many of us would probably rather not be, due to it being so relentlessly cold - and not to mention tedious - some people are trying to start their lives. In an Icelandic village, the eponymous Noi is just one of these people. Growing up, as Dagur Kári’s film attests, has rarely been so difficult.
Despite his appearance, Noi is like so many young people of his age. Disaffected and disinterested with what is around him, especially school, the young man meanders through life, leading a quiet existence in an even quieter, snow-covered community. He lives with his grandmother, and his father is also present in his life, albeit intermittently, partly due to the man’s alcoholism.
Within this setting, though, minor developments occur that disrupt Noi’s mundane equilibrium, creating small openings for the character. The most important of these developments is his burgeoning relationship with a girl named Iris…
As the film unfolds through its early stages, isolation is obvious, for both Noi and the community as a whole. It is an isolation that seems almost impregnable, due to the film’s inference that the climate is practically intolerable to any outsiders - including us, the audience. The chilly presence of the setting on our screens is made so palpable via a masterful combination of cinematography and the use of fragile, spare music. Just as obvious is the film’s inclusion of the familiar theme of youth alienation. It prompts one to search the film for something beyond the obvious. The distance from the main character that the cinematography maintains in these scenes only leaves us to question further.
Slowly the film begins to shed light on who Noi is and what shapes his life. We begin to learn that regardless of how we may have assumed Noi is cynical and self-destructive, given the fact that he steals from a gambling machine and is apathetic to school - an institution that could change his fortunes - this is not quite accurate. The character is portrayed as being caring - cooking meals for his grandmother - and when he receives a camera replica that displays various images in its two lenses from his grandmother on his birthday, he demonstrates a simple, appreciative nature, such is his delight. These characteristics are not evident in, nor compatible with his school experience, though, and he is asked to see a psychiatrist. The opinions of the psychiatrist and Noi’s ease at solving the Rubik’s cube on his desk indicate the teenager’s intelligence.
The film continues to piece together the different fragments that constitute Noi’s life with great tenderness from the director. The use of a wide-shot of the edge of the coast, dominated by a mountain, is particularly effective as a central motif. Also significant are the shots of Noi in his own private den beneath ground-level, a stark illustration of his persistent loneliness. The fact that the director does not choose to linger on these moments for anything longer than a brief period of time is symbolic of the character’s resilience, something that prevents him from lapsing into self-pity.
The real success of Kari’s film is that it manages to represent a rather bleak premise with such charm. A great example of this is the scene where Noi takes Iris out for the first time. As Iris shivers in the mercilessly low temperature, she asks him what his plans are, to which he admits he has none, other than just wanting to be with her. At other points in the film, the sobering tone is pierced by sprinklings of dead-pan comedy which gain some big laughs.
Although futility, in the form of school, the local surroundings and the father is tangible, this all eventually gives way to uncontrollable circumstances that shape the narrative to tragic, upsetting effect. Some viewers may finish watching the film feeling frustrated, as though all of their investment has been unrewarded, and their questions left unanswered. However, the fact that the film has coaxed viewers into investing anything at all, as well as causing them to ask these questions, should not be taken for granted.
In another filmmaker’s hands, this could easily have been a clichéd depiction of teenage aimlessness. But the vision forged through the combination of the script and directorial approach have rendered Noi Albino a unique, charming perspective on a young man and his society, anchored by a terrific central performance by Tómas Lemarquis.
While Noi Albino certainly leaves an impression on its audience, it is not a film that is as thought provoking as one might hope. Nonetheless, this short, atmospheric tale consistently appeals to our sympathies, eliciting smiles and chuckles between the frowns. BN
Film: Carlos
Release date: 22nd October 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 246 mins (338 mins – Trilogy version)
Director: Olivier Assayas
Starring: Juana Acosta, Edgar Ramirez, Alexander Scheer, Alejandro Arroyo, Ahmad Kaabour
Genre: Biography/Crime/Drama/History/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: Cinema
Country: France/Germany
Originally a three-episode television mini-series, Carlos has been cut down to a slightly more digestible running time for its UK cinema release. The production is rather impressive in its scale, traversing two decades and various countries around the world, giving us a glimpse of this Venezuelan terrorist in candid fashion.
The film shows how Carlos rose to prominence in the 1970s in association with the Palestinian Front for the Liberation of Palestine. He became a notorious figure in international affairs and a kind of celebrity amongst terrorist groups. His most daring and elaborate of operations was the 1975 raid on the OPEC conference in Austria.
He possessed an attitude of such self-assurance that he acted and made decisions almost independently, causing friction between himself and those who led him.
As time passed in a life without pause, Carlos found it increasingly difficult to carry out his radical agenda with his militant methods, in a world where the political climate was gradually shifting…
At a hefty running length and executed with faultless craft and attention to period detail, Carlos is a film that earns your respect. Unfortunately, it is rather difficult to state whether Assayas’ film really provokes any other thoughts or responses from its audience once the two and a half hours have ceased. To not reach an audience on a level deeper than just distant admiration is regrettable, especially when viewers have followed the film through what has been a considerable journey.
This is not to say that the cinematic journey itself has been unremarkable, because to suggest that would be completely erroneous. Carlos is unquestionably absorbing. One of the key factors that contribute to the film being so engaging is the unflinching directorial style of Assayas. He moves his hand-held camera around with total authority, but without inhibition - giving us an exposing view of the life and actions of this international terrorist.
Some of the most outstanding sequences featured in Carlos are the scenes of violence. Here the director, in conjunction with his cinematographers Denis Lenoir and Yorick Le Saux, depicts several violent events that are astounding in their immediacy and power. What is noticeable in these scenes is the adherence to realism. In using this realism to establish the tone prior to the commencement of the use of physical force, the director only heightens the impact of the brutality on the audience watching. Assayas also demonstrates his technical brilliance elsewhere through his rapid pace of editing, in addition to other post-production techniques, such as the blending of black-and-white news archive footage into the subsequent scene in colour.
If there is any defining sequence or moment in Carlos that the film will most likely be remembered for, it is the siege of the OPEC conference in Vienna, 1975. Carlos’ objective in the operation was to assassinate the Saudi Arabian oil minister, thus removing the obstacle to ensuring elevated oil prices to benefit ally Saddam Hussein. Aside from the frantic pace of the carnage that takes place once Carlos and his team begin their hostile takeover, Assayas also conveys a genuine sense of menace and uncertainty in the process. The uncertainty for Carlos grows as the scene progresses, with his operation failing to run as planned, especially when his crew move the hostages onto the airplane.
The film reaches a peak at this point. There is little subsequently that has the same urgency or sense of purpose as this vibrant cluster of scenes. As the narrative proceeds to take us through the following decades, Carlos struggles to maintain his influence over international affairs, particularly due to the Cold War ending further into the film. While the historical and political backdrop of the film is very interesting, we do not learn much else about Carlos. It is not mandatory that Carlos explore and examine its central character, and weave a character study of the man behind his history. However, if the film elects not to do this then surely it should provide more in the way of drama to distinguish itself. This is particularly noticeable due to the fact that the thriller-esque elements of the film are much less prominent further into the film.
One of the highlights of Assayas’ film is Edgar Ramirez’s performance. A film of this kind needs a solid performance from its leading actor, and Ramirez more than satisfies the brief. His is a magnetic, dominating portrayal, infused with masculinity, dignity and passion.
Whether it is because, as a movie version, too much has been lost from the TV series it derives from, Carlos is not as fulfilling as one would hope. It does nearly everything correctly, but just doesn’t do enough to be truly great. BN
Film: The Hungarian Masters Box Set
Release date: 21st June 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 285 mins
Director: Miklós Jancsó, Károly Makk, Márta Mészáros
Starring: Lili Darvas, Mari Töröcsik, Zsuzsa Czinkóczi
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: Second Run
Format: DVD
Country: Hungary
From Second Run DVD, this box set features three Hungarian films: My Way Home (1965), Love (1971) and Diary For My Children (1984). The box set endeavours to showcase some of the best Hungarian cinema has to offer. Although each of the three films contains a political element to a greater or lesser extent, these works manage to encompass the wider textures of life during the past decade in Hungary, dealing with themes such as friendship, loss and independence.
My Way Home (1965)
A Hungarian crosses the hills and greenery of Russia during the final stages of World War II. He is captured by Soviet troops and soon becomes a POW for a young Russian soldier named Kolja. The Hungarian attempts to escape, but as this possibility becomes increasingly less likely he is forced to adjust to a new way of living, even though he can see freedom hiding in the distance…
What begins with a burst of activity soon dissolves as the pace of My Way Home reduces to a steady stroll, a tempo that remains fixed for most of the film. If viewers are watching in the hope of seeing a tense, exciting plot centred around a prisoner of war and his attempts to escape, they may feel a little under whelmed. Not to say that this film is bereft of moments that satisfy this need, because it is not. It is just that these moments are brief and very sporadic. Ambling along in its own way, the film though does provide a source of deeper meaning and intellectual curiousity that is sure to absorb most viewers for the entirety of its running length.
What gradually emerges from this film is a stark yet languid portrait of an isolated existence, divorced from the rest of the world, and most intriguingly, the war itself.
Ultimately the relationship between the central characters creeps under the nose of the viewer to form the core of the film. Without even being overly aware of it the viewer becomes emotionally involved in the bond that slowly builds between the two main characters.
The director’s use of wise- shots, powerful compositions and wondrously fluid camera movement is one of the joys of My Way Home, and in regards to the central relationship, his style reinforces the understated, sensitive nature of their story in addition to its delicate evolution against an open, expansive landscape. Traces of homosexuality are recognisable, as are the themes of nationhood and individuality that pepper the narrative throughout.
Love (1971)
Luca (Mari Töröcsik) plays the daughter-in-law to a bed-ridden old woman (Lili Darvas). Her husband is a political prisoner.
To give her mother-in-law a sense of hope, Luca invents stories about her husband making films in America which she relates to the woman via letters she has written.
The woman’s health is uncertain as Luca is hopeful of her husband returning to see them both…
Love is not necessarily a film that could be described as easy to watch. It quickly locks the viewer inside the narrow confines of the old woman’s bedroom. The interior used for the scenes featuring this character shown in a way that feels compact and constricting. As a result, the audience cannot avoid the stale, moribund atmosphere emanating from the scenes with the frail old woman. This approach also helps us to understand the empty nature of her daily routine and the despondency and desperation this leads to. It makes for sobering viewing, the pathos of which is heightened by exchanges between the woman and her loving daughter-in-law.
However, the constricting atmosphere produced in the early scenes is interrupted by frequent glimpses of flashbacks from the woman’s point-of-view. While these images are arresting, they help to explore the character, too. When she relates these images to portions of the letters supposedly from her son, they also evoke our sympathies, as we can see how deluded the lady is. Either that or she is in constant longing for another time and place. Or perhaps it is both.
In these early scenes, the director additionally demonstrates flexibility as a filmmaker, especially due to the fact that the camera is moved around in an unpredictable fashion, whilst still maintaining the solemn tone.
Elsewhere in the film, we learn less about the daughter-in-law character, but we are convinced of her commitment to her imprisoned husband. The husband’s involvement in the narrative shifts the focus of the film. Some may perceive his presence and the emphasis upon the letters as evidence of a politically allegorical subtext within the film. What is unequivocal, though, is that the final act of Love underlines the significance of the relationship between the couple, particularly given the undesirable circumstances.
There is perhaps an element of ambiguity in the film. Hopefully this will not be problematic for audiences, and will instead compliment the enjoyment of a brilliantly acted film, made with grace, care and thought that will send ripples of emotion right through the audience at home.
Diary For My Children (1984)
Juli (Zsuzsa Czinkoczi) is moved to Hungary in 1947 to begin a new, affluent life with her foster mother Magda (Anna Polony). It is Magda’s wish to be accepted by Juli, but Juli rejects the life she is offered.
Conflict soon arises between the two. However, it is not just tension that derives from the private sphere that affects the young girl’s life, but her growing despondency with the ideals of Communism as well…
The longest and most narrative orientated of the three films in the set, Diary For My Children is an undeniably impressive work. It manages to combine a personal story of Juli (Zsuzsa Czinkoczi) with a tale of the pressures of conformity and ideology in Soviet Hungary in the late 1940s.
Mészáros’ film is arguably the stateliest of the three films on this box set in terms of its visual style, but even here the director employs flashbacks imbued with a dream-like quality. Aesthetically, the director aims for realism and is successful. Despite this, the director is very conscious of highlighting the more intimate details in the life and interactions of the central character.
Although Juli may be a difficult character to sympathise with, at times, it is very easy to empathise with her impatience for the oppressive society around her, as the insistence on loyalty to the state through propaganda and other means is shown to be inescapable. Her story is one that is torn between her own desires and the desires of those who want her to conform. As this story unfolds, the audience learns more about her own family’s past, drawing the viewer deeper into the film. The characters of Magda (Anna Polony) and Janos (Jan Nowicki) provide further light and shade in the story, brought to life by the respective actors’ impressive performances.
This is a compelling and vivid depiction of a life lived in Communist Hungary, filled with excellent performances.
On the evidence it presents, Hungarian Masters is an impeccable title for this box set; it really does display film making of the highest order. The result is a collection of DVDs that are more than likely to satisfy viewers who take this art form seriously. For the uninitiated, this is a superb introduction to Hungarian cinema - for enthusiasts, this set is indispensable. BN
Film: The Return
Release date: 4th October 2004
Certificate: 12
Running time: 110 mins
Director: Andrey Zvyagintsev
Starring: Vladimir Garin, Ivan Dobronravov, Konstantin Lavronenko, Natalia Vdovina
Genre: Drama
Studio: UGC
Format: DVD
Country: Russia
Arriving back at the place you departed from returns you to where you started your journey. But sometimes we have no choice in the matter. For the two boys, it is difficult to perceive whether the scenario presented in the film is one they would ever want to re-visit again.
One day, two bothers Ivan and Andrey, run home after fighting each other in the street. It is when they get home that they make a startling discovery: their father, estranged for many years, is now at home and asleep in bed.
In the coming days, Ivan (Ivan Dobronravov) and Andrey (Vladimir Garin) embark upon a trip with their father (Konstantin Lavronenko), primarily to give them a chance to fish together. Unsurprisingly, the boys are a little unsure of how to treat this man who has re- entered their life. The awkwardness soon gives way to tension, however, when the father’s unorthodox methods and harsh punishments are made apparent.
Lurking behind all of this is Ivan’s querying of whether the man is even their father at all…
The viewer accompanies the trio on their short yet eventful journey, which lasts for the duration of the film. And while we are invited to study the three characters, and the scenario in which their relationships both flower and fragment, there is an enigma that follows the story around incessantly. This enigmatic narrative unfolds slowly, patiently, always ensuring that the viewer is intrigued. The mystery over the validity of the father figure haunts the film, and is given extra weight due to the fact that these are doubts seen from the point-of-view of the two boys. The plot could also be viewed as a series of challenges for Ivan and Andrey, set- up by their father. As they encounter these obstacles, sinister traces emerge, which darken the tone and unsettle the audience.
Visually, The Return is utterly hypnotic. Andrey Zvyaginstev’s film possesses a distinctive appearance, achieved through exquisite framing, and a blue hue that pervades each shot in the film. Combined with the long takes that allow our minds and senses to dwell on certain sights and images in the film, the aesthetics of The Return reinforce the enigmatic nature of the narrative. An additional facet in Mikhail Krichman’s cinematography is the incorporation of landscapes. What is noticeable about this use of the landscapes in recurrent wide-shots is that it underlines the sense of loss and uncertainty, by depicting the characters as being overwhelmed in size by their surroundings. Furthermore, this cinematography is sometimes painful in that it conveys a rich form of beauty that cannot be fully enjoyed or embraced because of the inner turmoil shared between the trio of characters.
Yet, despite this lush presentation of the surrounding landscapes, it is still the characters and the story that dominate our attention. By combining the two, and still keeping a firm grasp on storytelling, tone and its examination of Andrey, Ivan and the father, Zvyaginstev exemplifies his skill as a filmmaker. Each character leaves an impression on the viewer: the father’s darkness and austerity; Andrey’s willingness to allow this man to become a father figure; and Ivan’s angst and cynicism, justified or not. The way in which the three individuals interact and co-exist in the different rural areas rivets the audience, showing bonds and divisions unfolding between them in a manner that is so understated it is almost entirely composed of silent gazes and telling and expressions. As a result of this quiet, ponderous tone, the viewer is more startled and convinced of the strength of feeling in the film when emotions do burst through the surface towards the end.
Eventually, the film depicts an implosion of the unusual, shaky unit created by Ivan, Andrey and the father figure. Anger, passion and resent all erupt into a breathtaking climax.
After the conclusion of the film, the audience is left with a morose impression, prompting us to question the meaning of what The Return has shown us. However, it should be recognised that one of the qualities about this film is that it provides much more than just a solemn viewing experience. It constructs a tale in which two boys are placed in a difficult situation that mutates into a wholly undesirable one. Given the closing shots, it could be suggested that this film is a lyrical, brooding coming-of-age/ ‘rites of passage’ drama, regardless of how clichéd it may sound. That said, The Return is perhaps too complicated and profound for that label. It is perhaps better viewed as rumination on childhood and growing up, illustrating how events and circumstances that we have little control over can manipulate and change the direction of our lives. It is that idea of life, and its habit of becoming swiftly relegated into memory (and how memories hover over and haunt us like ghosts), which lingers on the mind most prominently when the credits begin to roll.
Pretty and hazy like a daydream, yet unpredictable and agonising like a nightmare, The Return is a quiet and calming film on the surface that coils itself around you on the inside, refusing to let go. Not to be missed. BN
Film: Etre Et Avoir
Release date: 8th June 2009
Certificate: U
Running time: 100 mins
Director: Nicholas Philibert
Starring: Georges Lopez, Guillaume, Alizé
Genre: Documentary
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: France
Translating into English as “To Be And To Have”, Être et Avoir is a beautifully simple title that encapsulates the simple essence of this film. The film reveals various layers throughout, but the focus on what is most important in life is always clear.
The documentary follows the daily efforts of Georges Lopez in teaching a class of children from the neighbouring villages in a rural, isolated part of France. It shows the how the children of a wide range of ages respond to Lopez’s lessons and how the children interact socially. Away from the classroom, we are given an insight into the way in which these children live, some having to shoulder the responsibility of caring for younger siblings in addition to providing manual labour on the farm.
As the film progresses, we see the role of Mr Lopez extend beyond just being a teacher into someone that offers personal support to the children and their families, especially as the older members of the class are preparing to leave primary school in the coming summer...
Right from the beginning, Philbert’s film is instantly captivating. It introduces us to a place of learning where the teacher, Georges Lopez, is responsible for educating several different age groups without even a teaching assistant to support him. However, the teacher does not dominate the film.
The film is shared between teacher and students, producing a fascinating tapestry of characters that light up the film. The younger children, in particular, are a delight to watch, such as the easily distracted Jo Jo, who provides many memorable moments. Though these individuals are just people behaving naturally, the filmmaker is able to translate their personalities into vivid, indelible character portraits. This is achieved by way of intimate camera work and a commitment to following them at all stages of the school day as well as at home. As a result, the personalities contained in the film make for absorbing viewing, compelling the audience to invest emotionally in the characters. This helps to forge a relationship between the subject portrayed and the viewer, who watches with great sympathy as their experiences unfold on screen. It is almost as though we are witnessing them growing before our very eyes in a fashion that does not feel contrived or forced in any way. To witness this on a film, and for it to be fun and amusing as well, is truly special indeed.
The film also captures a wealth of finer nuances embedded within each individual, reinforcing the engaging nature of the documentary in the process. In addition, through the selective editing of the vast amounts of footage amassed for the film, the director constructs mini-narrative tangents. At times, it is difficult to believe that the director has managed to accomplish this feat, as so much of the film’s most interesting sections seem to occur spontaneously. That the director is capable of constructing these elements and bring us so close to his subjects is testament to the skill and hard work that has gone into making it.
Besides seeing the characters’ daily routines, and the challenges they encounter at school, we also learn about the various personal problems the subjects face. Whether it is issues in socialising with classmates or difficulties at home, Être et Avoir is sympathetic when probing deeper into its subjects. The effect is an unexpectedly moving one.
Another unexpected strength of the film is in its representation of the surrounding environment, with the cinematography finely illustrating the aesthetic splendour of the local scenery. This, combined with the frequent cut-aways to the images of the agrarian surroundings, gradually create the impression on the audience that this is a film as much about rural part of France as it is about what actually transpires in this place. Beyond this impressive cinematography is an emphasis on the setting, and it can be ascertained by the culmination of the piece that it is in fact a meditation on the connection between people and the environment. It suggests how life will continue to grow and blossom in the same way that the plants, trees and fields are shown to do. Through this unique depiction of life, the documentary is able to bring a sense of calm and placid optimism to the viewer, despite the emotional conclusion of the narrative.
You are unlikely to see another documentary quite like this one - combining poetry and observation into a beguiling, heart-warming package. Sure to capture the heart of almost anyone who sees it. BN
