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Film: The Family Friend
Release date: 23rd July 2007
Certificate: 15
Running time: 96 mins
Director: Paolo Sorrentino
Starring: Giacomo Rizzo, Laura Chiatti, Luigi Angelillo, Marco Giallini, Barbara Valmorin
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Italy/France
The Family Friend (L’amico di famiglia) is the third film by Italian filmmaker Paolo Sorrentino. Nominated for the Palme d'Or at Cannes 2006, the film is a haunting and curiously humorous take on lower-working class Italian obsession with money and one other.
The antihero, Geremia di Geremei is a lonely and tight-fisted money-lender who lives a comfortable life with his elderly mother in a run-down apartment until he is approached by a desperate father wanting to borrow money to pay for his daughter’s wedding.
After meeting the father’s daughter, Rosalba, Geremia becomes entranced and obsessed with her, invading their home and private life under the guise and ominous title of the ‘family friend’…
Upon initial viewing, one may interpret Sorrentino’s style and toying of aesthetics as pretentious and somewhat irritating, but a deeper engagement with his work is what is makes them so memorable and charming. There are very few living directors whom are bold enough to take the plunge and openly link the two sensory dimensions of cinema, sound and vision, to create a cinematic world which is both surreal and wonderfully beautiful at the same time. The initial way in which this merging grabs you is through the use of contemporary popular music, particularly the choice Sorrentino made to synchronise it with on-screen action. He encourages tracks to enter once they have been signalled by not only events and glances from actors, but also from sharp and abrupt editing cuts, of which are all commonplace and are peppered throughout the film. It may sound unusual, tired and even unoriginal, but the affect is curiously breathtaking, and feels like a sincere desire to be bold and outspoken.
This coupling of constructive elements is not only limited to the sound and visual aesthetics, but is present in more specific tones, such as the cinematography and editing. Of course both are always inextricably linked, but here they are almost one and the same; when one is not transcending normal functionality, the other steps in and takes the reins. Some may argue that the best cinematography and editing must always remain invisible and not draw the audience’s attention toward it, as to break this simple rule makes us aware of the medium itself, thus becoming disorienting, but to that we must respond with approval of Sorrentino’s postmodernism - it is a remarkable attempt to develop an already established genre within Italian cinema and culture.
The genre – or more suitably, the development of the genre – is seemingly paradoxical, as it is quite overt in its use of traditional themes within Italian cinema. Loan-sharking and gangsters all dominate the film, and are all a major vein of Italian culture and cinema. However, what is so progressive here is the use of small-time and minor-league gangsters. Praise may be given to cinema which centres around the dominance and terror exuded from large, threatening gangsters and Mafioso, but it could be argued that what is more terrifying is that gangsters hide in plain sight and might not be as recognisable. Ultimately, they could be anyone and everyone. This is what The Family Friend knows, and he lets us know from the very beginning.
Perhaps the only minor criticism might be that the pacing of its narration and story is, at times, so fast that during particularly exciting moments, our emotions run away with us, and when tragedy suddenly strikes, it feels somewhat disjointing. Before one takes a breath, we are forced back into excitement. For all the admiration we can give this kind of forward-thinking filmmaking, the overall affect is a little too much, and it often leaves you feeling deflated.
On the whole, it’s wonderfully made, and Sorrentino is one of the very few contemporary filmmakers that genuinely understand the fluidity of cinema and how to effectively manipulate it. All of the films he has made toy with the medium, but this one has an extra element that is difficult to pinpoint. Arguably, it is Giacomo Rizzo’s casting and performance, as the vile loan-shark that truly makes this film so fantastic. He flows through the screen with genuine style and grace which permeates every move and line spoken - the result of which adds a disturbing realism and faithfulness to his character. More often than not it is near impossible to see where the character-acting ends and Rizzo’s personality begins.
For all its beauty and stylistic charm, The Family Friend is a film of delightful surrealist wonder, but remains fully grounded within contemporary Italian society. Perhaps this is what makes the film seem so fascinating; that the traditions of Italian society play a larger hand in contemporary Italy than would be allowed. The originality and development of form itself is what is so wonderful about the film; it envelops the spectator whole and leaves your head spinning with awe. JW
Film: La Grande Illusion
Release date: 13th November 2006
Certificate: U
Running time: 108 mins
Director: Jean Renoir
Starring: Jean Gabin, Dita Parlo, Pierre Fresnay, Erich von Stroheim, Julien Carette
Genre: Drama/War
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France
La Grande Illusion is Renior’s 1937 satirical WWI prison drama that follows a band of prison escapologists as they attempt to escape from Wintersborn, an apparently inescapable prison. The film runs deeper than the Nazi party would allow, and was subsequently declared “Cinematographic Enemy Number One” by them after it won acclaim and prizes at the Venice Film Festival.
The film follows three French Prisoners of War during World War I and their persistent attempts to escape from prison-to-prison, for no reason other than their own amusement.
It begins with two aviators, Lieutenant Maréchal and Captain de Boeldieu (Jean Gabin and Pierre Fresnay) being sent to a prison camp, during which they meet a band of people, all of whom share a common interest: escaping.
During their time there, they are transferred to another prison, Wintersborn. Whilst at Wintersborn, they meet another of their previous inmates, Rosenthal (played by Marcel Dalio), and together they hatch another plan to escape.
Erich Von Stroheim plays Captain von Rauffenstein, the German prison warden, who shares the same acquaintances and philosophical perceptions of society as Boeldieu…
Renoir’s films often speak for themselves, but what is so fascinating about this film is its humanity, its poise and, above all, its sheer dignity when tackling such a grand subject. The approach it has to telling a story about prisoners of war is refreshing, something which is rare in cinema at the best of times, but for a film to still be so powerful over seventy years after its initial release is truly remarkable.
When watching, it is hardly surprising that the Nazi party despised it so much, for the way in which it portrays war and prison it does so mostly with a sense of humour. These prisoners don’t seem to do anything other than have a good time, and a weighty section of the initial half of the film is dedicated to the prisoners organising and performing a stage show of their own creation. Discipline and actual imprisonment takes a huge backseat, and so, at times, you almost forget that they are prisoners – the sets, decor and atmosphere are constructed so that it feels more like a holiday camp. This, of course, is another of the film’s swipes at German regime, and is entirely intentional. The German authority itself is also so flaccid and weak that they can hardly be called guards at all. The character that perhaps defines this the most is Rauffenstein, whom not only is directly mirrored and equal to Boledieu, but is also genuinely likeable. At times, he even seems to sympathise with the French characters, and yearns to have the same desires they have. This use of satire still cuts close to the bone, however, at times, it feels a little too direct and obvious. Perhaps – and this is only with a retrospective eye that we can determine this – it is a little tired and overused. Having said that, though, this is a very minor negative criticism.
Cinematic dimensions, such as lighting, performance, score and editing are all as praise-worthy and well-executed, but they are dwarfed by Renoir’s use of framing, camerawork, and his ability to control the camera. He seems to waste nothing when shooting his subjects; each ounce, corner, dimension and even plane is used to create a world that leaves the screen and enters our own. The scene, for example, when Boeldieu serves as a distraction, so his counterparts may escape, is extremely well created and delivered that you cannot take your eyes off the screen - its beauty is shone through its simplicity and effectiveness. There are only a handful of directors who are able to achieve this.
Perhaps the film’s only other negative criticism is its lack of drama, as although it is present and effective, it is too sparse - coming as a shock rather than tension. Within the context of comedy and satire, it thus becomes quite disjointing and uncomfortable. If drama and tension had been peppered throughout, rather than occasional and aggressive, it might have been a much more effective film. However, the comedy and satirical qualities might have sagged rather than been as crucial as they are. Perhaps cynicism isn’t the best approach to this; its intentions might have been mistaken, and its dramatic veins were designed to be more powerful than has been interpreted here.
La Grande Illusion is a very fine film; it is well presented, superbly well made with the acting being spot-on every step of the way. If you haven’t discovered the magic of Jean Renoir yet, this is a good place to start. JW
Film: The Hunter
Release date: 28th February 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 92 mins
Director: Rafi Pitts
Starring: Rafi Pitts, Mitra Hajjar, All Nicksaulat, Hassan Ghalenoi
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Iran/Germany
A German-Iranian co-production might sound like an unappealing cinematic curio, but this thriller by writer, director and leading man Rafi Pitts is a work of universal simplicity and masterly execution.
Ali (Pitts) is a nightwatchman and ex-con whose one desire is to spend more time with his wife and daughter. When his loved ones are killed in crossfire between police and demonstrators, Ali climbs onto a bluff overlooking the highway and drills bullets from his hunting rifle into the windscreen of a police car.
His revenge exacted, he flees from the city to the forests where he feels at home. But the authorities – equally well versed in the concept of payback - are hot in pursuit…
Watching The Hunter, the comparison that comes inevitably to mind is A Short Film About Killing. Like Kieslowski's masterpiece, this is a doom-laden story filled with pungent silences and told in a clipped, eccentric manner that distils it to its essence. Again like the great Polish director, Pitts has the knack of framing a shot in such a way that the elements within it spring into tension. Because of this, you never feel at ease, even during the relatively becalmed early scenes as Ali puts in the hours at his unloved job and commutes along endless motorways whose oppressive, overhanging pressed-steel hoardings seem like embodiments of a life straitened by circumstance.
Where Pitts differs from Kieslowski is in his decision to step in front of the lens. Portraying a private man who shows little on the outside even when things are at their most tragic, his performance is all about someone dying from the inside out, poisoned by an inexpressible fury. When he receives the news of his wife's demise from an obtuse police inspector, he makes no obvious reaction, but the muscles around his jaw slowly constrict until it looks like he's going to swallow his own tongue. He becomes an old man before your very eyes.
And yet for all its moody subject matter The Hunter isn't an oppressive film, and here is another point of departure from Kieslowski's tale of murder and retribution. Partly this is to do with the impressive location shooting. Director of photography Mohammad Davudi does a fine job at capturing the eerie beauty of northern Iran, whether it be the humid, deeply-forested Gilan and Golan regions or the turbulent Caspian sea. There's a particularly striking car chase through winding, fog-bound hill-passes that will have Hollywood location scouters sighing with envy (Davudi has just as startling an eye for urban ugliness – witness the horrendous blanched-concrete stairwell leading to Ali's apartment). Of course, good cinematography doesn't necessarily make a good movie, but between them Pitts and Davudi have managed to imbue each frame with a kind of far-sighted, tender resignation.
This is especially evident in the film's superb last act – essentially a three hander between Ali and the two bickering policemen sent to capture him (a corrupt veteran and a youngster on national service, whose view is: “Who doesn't have a problem with the police?”) Not to go into details, but an air almost of the Theatre of the Absurd creeps in as the weather and the forest combine to cut the trio down to size. It's an unexpected change of tack, but one which Pitts the director handles with enormous feeling for mood, while Pitts the thespian delivers a tour-de-force of near silent acting.
There's no denying that it's Pitts who dominates on screen, but cumulatively the rest of the cast bring their own special flavour to The Hunter. Unhampered by Western notions of hamming it up, they deliver fresh, unaffected performances which act as a counterfoil to the studied, deliberate mise-en-scène. Ghalenoi in particular makes his unwilling policeman believably opaque, frustrating any desire the viewer might have to label him as good or bad.
Although you can't help suspecting that there are nuances to The Hunter (especially in the depiction of the police) which only an Iranian audience will fully appreciate, for the most part this is a story which transcends national boundaries. Replace political repression with economic blight and Pitt's nightwatchman with a blue-collar worker, and the same events could play themselves out in some Midwest steel town, with just the same coldness on the part of officialdom, and the same recourse to violence from the embattled everyman. By telling a story that could happen almost anywhere, Pitts has become a figure to reckon with on the international stage.
Far more than just a curiosity, The Hunter is a fine film, by any standards; intense, lyrical and with some lovely woodland settings. Viewers will soon forget that they're camped on the outskirts of world cinema as they settle back to enjoy this gripping tale of a man on the run. JW
