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Film: Cross Of Iron
Year of production: 1977
UK Release date: 6th June 2011
Distributor: Optimum
Certificate: 18
Running time: 133 mins
Director: Sam Peckinpah
Starring: James Coburn, Maximilian Schell, James Mason, David Warner, Klaus Löwitsch
Genre: Action/Drama/War
Format: Blu-ray
Country of Production: UK/West Germany
Language: English/Russian/German
Review by: Ken Talbot
Sam Peckinpah’s unforgiving depiction of German soldiers struggling to survive on the Russian front remains one of the most potent anti-war films of all time. Now, with a stunning re-mastered print on Blu-ray, newcomers will have a chance to experience the maverick director’s vision of the World War II conflict from the perspective of the downtrodden German infantry.
Captain Stransky is a German aristocrat who requests a transfer to the failing assault on Russian forces, in the hopes that he can obtain the prestigious Iron Cross. Sergeant Steiner is a decorated soldier, whose guerrilla methods and unit of hardened veterans may be turning the tide of the conflict. They meet in the battle worn trenches of the Russian front, as the German forces are on verge of a full retreat.
Steiner takes an instant disliking to the pampered, inexperienced Stransky, as does his commanding officer, Colonel Brandt. After a surprise attack, Steiner spends some time in hospital and, after sparking a short-lived romance with his nurse, he promptly returns to the front. On his return, he discovers that Stransky has lied about leading a counter attack to the surprise Russian assault and has asked Steiner to vouch for him. When Steiner declines, Stransky attempts to dispose of him by any means necessary…
A small boy in uniform is killed amidst a flurry of gunfire, a rapist is left to a pack of bloodthirsty women, and a petulant officer orders the execution of his own countrymen to serve his vanity. Sam Peckinpah’s vision of war from the point of view of German soldiers is bleak and confrontational, presenting a soldiers-eye view of the senseless slaughter.
At its very core, it is a portrait of two very different men, James Coburn’s world weary career soldier, Steiner and Maximilian Schell’s cowardly, yet glory-hungry Stransky. Both are hopelessly flawed human beings, both are cogs in the war machine, separated only by experience and social status.
Coburn excels in his role as a stoic veteran who despises the war, yet refuses to leave it behind, instantly dismissing his promising romance with Sister Eva when the chance to return to the fray appears. Steiner is a man hardened by the horrors of war, yet he still manages to retain some semblance of humanity. Stransky wishes only to make his family proud by obtaining an Iron Cross (Germany’s equivalent of the medal of honour) and he is prepared to obtain this reward by any means necessary, even if it means murdering his own countrymen.
Schell portrays Stransky as a complex villain; he displays menace when goading his subordinates to admit their homosexuality, yet cowers under a table when signs of battle draw near. Schell makes Stransky menacing and pathetic in equal measure and it’s a shame he isn’t given enough screen time to let the role breath. This isn’t just a two-hander, however; solid support comes from the regal James Mason as Brandt and David Warner as the exhausted Captain Keisel.
Cross of Iron’s star is undoubtedly Peckinpah, who took a break from revisionist westerns (and Hollywood) to make his second and last war film (the first being 1965’s Major Dundee). The auteur’s visual signature is all over the film; slow motion, freeze frame and jump cuts - he shoots the battle scenes like devastatingly beautiful ballets of death, and frames his ‘heroes’ with reverence. Yet, crucially, Peckinpah understands the irony of idolising characters like Steiner - men whose glory on the battlefield belies their tainted soul off it.
As with most Peckinpah productions, the film is technically brilliant. Cinematography, editing and sound design create a constant sensory assault. Battles are teeth rattling experiences, replete with haunting imagery (a battalion of Russian tanks emerging from fog is a standout sequence). What little music that is present in the film is often drowned out by persistent explosions or the distant cries of dying infantry. Only ‘Hanschen Klien’, the eerie nursery rhyme that bookends the film, offers any sort of musical signature.
The conclusion is as bleak and nihilistic as one can expect from Peckinpah. Like the ageing outlaws of The Wild Bunch, Steiner and Stransky end their story in the heat of battle. Steiner leads his terrified captain to the place “where the iron crosses grow.” The final freeze frame, as the sound of maniacal laughter bleeds into that unsettling children’s song, is surely the most cheerfully negative conclusion in the history of war films.
Peckinpah’s downbeat war film displays the director’s signature visual flair and penchant for extreme (for the time) violence. A scathing attack on the machinations of war, the film remains an often overlooked masterpiece. KT
Film: The Troll Hunter
Year of production: 2010
Running time: 90 mins
Director: André Øvredal
Starring: Otto Jespersen, Hans Morten Hansen, Tomas Alf Larsen, Johanna Mørck
Genre: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama/Horror/Thriller
Country: Norway
Language: Norwegian
Review by: Ken Talbot
No confirmed UK release date as yet, but screened at festivals such as Sundance.
Following a hugely successful festival run, Andre Ovredal’s quirky horror is destined for cultdom. Now Western audiences get to see Norway’s answer to the ubiquitous shaky cam monster movie.
A group of student filmmakers track the movements of Hans, a mysterious figure painted by a local community as a dangerous poacher. He spurns their interview advances at first, until they catch him during one of his hunts.
Hans is a troll hunter, tasked with policing the borders of Norway and using lethal force against any troll that oversteps their own hunting ground. Tired of his thankless job, Hans takes the film crew on his travels in the hope that they can reveal the trolls to the rest of the world so he can finally retire.
The group begin a dangerous journey through the Norwegian countryside, to learn the tricks of the troll hunting trade and document the life of, as one of the students puts it, “a true Norwegian superhero…”
The Troll Hunter is first and foremost a love letter to Norway, with an almost endless succession of postcard images that just happen to feature trolls. Orvedal’s camera spends more time staring longingly at the beautiful vistas than he does on the titular pursuant and his fantastical prey. It’s this focus on nature that forms the basis of many of the film’s underlying themes, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy, juxtaposing the natural and the un-natural, an extraordinary set of circumstances viewed through humble digital video.
The arrival of the trolls on screen is deftly handled by Ovredal who teases us before showing his hand. Low angle shots of tall trees wait for a reveal that never arrives. Cars are decimated off screen, leaving us to gawp at the carnage post-attack, meanwhile, chewed tree branches and sticky “troll p**s” brings Hans closer to his target.
When the film’s antagonists are revealed, they do not disappoint. Half comical fairytale pastiche, half grotesque spectacle, their bulbous features covered in fur and slime - if Jim Henson had made a straight up monster movie, it would probably look like this. Ovredal builds some great setpieces around his beasts, including a standout moment of tension in a crowded troll cave, bathed in the eerie green of night vision.
The human element is always important in what can most appropriately be tagged the ‘shaky cam’ horror film. They are the audience’s visual anchor, a presence to cling to during the scares, and someone to empathise with. In The Troll Hunter, we mingle within a group of naïve, almost childlike students as they follow the life of a truly extraordinary yet utterly grounded individual.
Hans is the star of the film, though, and Jespersen imbues him with gravitas and stoicism. Whether he is recalling a horrific memory involving a sector-wide troll massacre or chastising one of his wards for lying about their belief in god, he is always engaging to watch. He plays the ‘trolljegeren’ as a downtrodden civil servant, someone who no longer accepts their societal role and has decided to rebel against his masters (here represented by shady wildlife officials who don’t want the students filming Hans). His deadpan delivery is instrumental in the darker comic moments of the film, when one of the group asks whether a replacement camerawoman is safe despite her Muslim beliefs, he simply replies, “I don’t know, we’ll see what happens.”
If The Troll Hunter has a failing, it’s in the deliberate vagueness of the story. Too many threads are left ignored, a subplot about troll rabies never seems to go anywhere, and a relationship between Hans and a kindly veterinarian is hinted at and then quickly abandoned. It’s a testament to the quality of the film that, when most questions are often best left unanswered, one still yearns for more information. Indeed, there is enough content and establishing lore here to give birth to a franchise (and, god forbid, a western remake), yet Ovredal decides to end with an abrupt climax, the impact of which is sullied somewhat by a comical coda that seems more like a punchline than a conclusion.
A hugely imaginative genre piece, The Troll Hunter’s beautiful locations, imaginative monsters and memorable central character deserve a mainstream audience. Likewise, writer/director Ovredal should follow hand-held monster movie alumnus Matt Reeves in becoming a talent to watch. KT
Film: The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest
Release date: 11th April 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 147 mins
Director: Daniel Alfredson
Starring: Noomi Rapace, Michael Nyqvist, Lena Endre, Sofia Ledarp, Annika Hallin
Genre: Crime/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Sweden/Denmark/Germany
With David Fincher’s US remake of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo well underway, the UK gets to see the final part in Stieg Larrson’s Millennium Trilogy. Lisbeth gets some breathing room, so the Millennium group has time to shine in the series’ dramatic conclusion.
Lisbeth Salander is being held under hospital arrest, accused of the attempted murder of her father, Zalachenko - the man who ruined her life and tried to have her killed.
As her court case approaches, a kindly doctor keeps her away from the prying inquiries of the police and the sinister Dr. Teleborian, a villain from her turbulent childhood.
Meanwhile, Mikael Blomkvist continues his efforts to clear Salander’s name by compiling a comprehensive expose in Millennium magazine and enlisting his lawyer sister to defend Lisbeth.
At the same time, Zalachenko’s employers, a secret organisation of ex-government officials and secret police, along with Lisbeth’s half brother, the sadistic Niederman, seek to silence Salander and Blomkvist forever…
Having this particular trilogy screened in the UK over the space of twelve months has been a strange but generous experience. The crossover appeal of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and the impact of Noomi Rapace’s striking portrayal of Lisbeth Salander made it an instant cult hit, as well as a critical success. Then the sequel came along and many expected more of the same, instead receiving a tangled mess of subplots and evil henchman. Now comes the third part, a satisfying trilogy finale not bogged down by high expectations or the need to pay fan service - the story of Lisbeth Salander concluding as abruptly as it began. It’s admirable that this threequel manages to resolve the events of the previous two films while introducing many of its own elements. Fortunately, the over abundance of narrative content doesn’t get murky, largely due to some speedy plot resolutions (one major threat is dealt with in an all too convenient but wholly satisfying fashion). Overall, this is a tighter, more engaging experience than its predecessor.
With that much vaunted central performance populating many reviews and analyses, it’s easy to forget that Stieg Larsonn’s Millennium Trilogy is largely an ensemble piece. Blomkvist and his crusading journalist buddies have always been an important part of the tale, and with the trilogy’s generous closing act, they finally take centre stage.
Lisbeth is confined to a hospital bed for a large chunk of the running time and after that, we only see her grunting in a prison cell, or brandishing a bold Mohawk in court. She is still the series’ best element, but the decision to leave her skulking in the background while Blomkvist and his colleagues pick up the pieces of her tumultuous existence is a satisfying one, making The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest a marked improvement on the cartoon histrionics of The Girl Who Played With Fire.
Of course, those little niggles that emerged with the second film still remain to some extent. Invincible man mountain Niederman is largely pointless, and just as disposable as he was in the previous outing - fortunately his demise gives Lisbeth some nail gun assisted catharsis. Also, the ‘section’ group, while an engaging antagonist, is still reminiscent of a low rent cadre of Bond villains. Aside from these plot gratuities, The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets; Nest remains grounded and has more than a whiff of that gritty realism that made the first film such a success.
This trilogy is a genre chameleon, with the first instalment presenting a Fincher-esque dark serial killer tale with some socio-political overtones, while the second flirted with some form of action/thriller/espionage hybrid. The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest brings back some of the first film’s political intrigue and adds a clandestine conspiracy into the mix, with a sprinkling of courtroom drama.
These films were originally broadcast as TV serials, and, as such, run the risk of becoming muddled, episodic and overly linear. Yet, somehow, screenwriters Frykberg and Rydberg condense Larrson’s convoluted story into easily digestible chunks. Lisbeth languishes in hospital, tapping out a biography on her smuggled phone, Blomkvist and the Millennium group compile the bumper Salander issue amidst death threats and in-fighting, and the secret ‘section’ group conspire to destroy them all (insert evil laugh). It is a testament to the smooth script that all these plates keep spinning, and all those tangled plot strands are tied convincingly at the film’s neat climax.
Not as consistently brilliant as the first film, yet not as confused and silly as the second, The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets’ Nest occupies a happy medium. There are reportedly more stories to tell about the troubled goth hacker Lisbeth Salander, but this satisfying coda suggests that her story should be left well alone. KT
Film: Seven Samurai
Release date: 22nd November 2009
Certificate: PG
Running time: 207 mins
Director: Akira Kurosawa
Starring: Toshirô Mifune, Takashi Shimura, Keiko Tsushima, Yukiko Shimazaki, Kamatari Fujiwara
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama
Studio: BFI
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
One of the most influential films ever made, this towering masterpiece has been remade numerous times, and its grand sense of adventure has been endlessly copied by Western filmmakers. Its enduring popularity is thanks in no small part to Akira Kurosawa’s masterful direction and a wonderful ensemble cast, including Kurosawa muse Toshiro Mifune.
After discovering that a group of bandits will attack them when the rice harvest is ready, a poor mountain village resolves to stop them at all cost. Too weak and scared to take on the bandits themselves, village elder Gisaku suggests they hire samurai to do the job for them.
Hiring a group of samurai that are willing to work with only food as payment is difficult, but eventually the villagers assemble seven warriors to help them. After rescuing a child without taking payment, a ronin named Kambei becomes the first recruit, along with his young follower Katsushiro. They are later joined by Katayama, Shichiroji, Gorobai, Heihachi, Kyuzo and Kikuchiyo, a false samurai who proves himself worthy of a place in the group.
Initially met with fear and skepticism, the samurai soon earn the respect of the village. They set about building defences and training the villagers in preparation for a climactic battle with the marauding bandits…
Seminal is a term used far too often in critical journalism. Its use suggesting that the majority of industry output stems from some other grand, influential work. The films of Japanese auteur Akira Kurosawa, however, can truly be described as seminal - the legacy of his films stretching far and wide in cinema, an influence that has lasted for decades. Seven Samurai is perhaps his most enduring classic, with its universal story and clutch of successful remakes (The Magnificent Seven, A Bugs Life), it has managed to remain fresh in the collective conscious for over fifty years.
The progenitor of countless adventures featuring a ragtag bunch of heroes defending the innocent from evil doers, the story is beautifully simplistic, yet rife with moral complexity. The villagers are initially victims, pushed to their very limits by the prospect of exploitation at the hands of the bandits. Yet when the samurai arrive to help, their initial reaction is mistrust and resentment. Later, a heartfelt speech from Kikuchio reveals the true nature of both himself and the seemingly frightened farmers.
The film is full of dark moments that serve to offset the lighter tone of the story. Moments of levity, like the youngest samurai’s affair with one of the villagers, are in close proximity to darker scenes like an elderly villager wreaking brutal vengeance on a captured bandit.
The cast is superb throughout, particularly the samurai, who are all given vignettes of exposition and moments to shine. Standouts include group leader Kambei and the stoic swordsmen Kyuzo (it’s a testament to the 1960 remake that Yul Brynner and James Coburn excelled in the same roles).
The star of the film, of course, is Toshiro Mifune, who gives an outstanding performance as Kikuchiyo. The film was his seventh collaboration with Kurosawa, and their close creative relationship shines through. Mifune is given free reign, and as a result, Kikuchiyo is all childish excitement and animalistic rage; the film’s comic relief and its beating heart (his outburst about the true nature of farmers is a master class in emotional range).
Kurosawa’s masterful direction cannot be forgotten, however, and Seven Samurai presents the maverick director at the peak of his powers. The film’s final act is a tour de force, and was, in its time, the epitome of spectacle. A series of pitched battles culminating in a climactic, rain drenched last stand in which the samurai defeat the bandits at grave cost to themselves. The finale became the blueprint for every decisive cinematic battle that would follow, yet few would attempt to copy its bittersweet conclusion. The victory against the bandits leaves the villagers prosperous, and all but three of the samurai dead (one of which, Katsushiro, leaves the group to be with the woman he loves). It’s a bold conclusion that deftly mixes elation with tragedy.
A high point in a long line of Kurosawa masterpieces, Seven Samurai is an historic work that anyone who has even a passing fondness of film should seek out. In many ways a proto-blockbuster, its far reaching influence on modern spectacle cinema cannot be ignored. KT
Film: The Girl Who Played With Fire
Release date: 10th January 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 153 mins
Director: Daniel Alfredson
Starring: Michael Nyqvist, Noomi Rapace, Lena Endre, Sofia Ledarp, Micke Spreitz
Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Sweden/Denmark/Germany
Lisbeth Salander returns in the second part of Stieg Larsson’s ‘Millennium Trilogy’, continuing the story that began with the hugely successful The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Will the next part of Lisbeth and Blomkvist’s tale prove to be as dark and gripping as the last? Or will there be diminishing returns?
Lisbeth Salander has been in hiding for over a year, and her reporter friend Blomkvist’s frequent attempts to contact her are unsuccessful. Lisbeth’s eventual decision to reenter her old life coincides with a mysterious muscle-bound man approaching her guardian, the sadistic rapist Bjurmann, for Lisbeth’s police reports.
Meanwhile, at Millennium, Blomkvist’s left wing publication, new journalist Dag Svensonn delves in to Sweden’s burgeoning sex trade and is murdered for his troubles.
Thanks to a murder weapon containing her fingerprints, Lisbeth is framed for the murder of Svensonn and his girlfriend, as well as her guardian Bjurmann. To clear her name and find out the identities of the people who framed her, Lisbeth must rekindle her partnership with Blomkvist, and become embroiled in the dangerous world of underground sex trafficking…
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo has been 2010’s most successful import. A dark and dirty adaptation of Stieg Larrson’s novel, oozing with style and alternative in all the right places. Most of the critical praise has been heaped on Noomi Rapace’s revelatory performance as the titular anti-heroine. Barely recognisable under hood, greasy fringe and face metal, Rapace is consumed by the role of Lisbeth, and the result is mesmerising. The Girl Who Played With Fire is the second part in Larrson’s trilogy that, while not as engaging as it’s darker predecessor, still manages to impress thanks to an increased focus on Lisbeth.
The most striking aspect of this second instalment is the shift in tone. If the first film displayed all the tenets of a murky mystery, then it’s follow up leans more towards the action thriller genre. Sure, original bad guy Martin Vanger was perhaps an overblown serial killer stereotype, but a 7ft tall blonde assassin that feels no pain and a disfigured master villain belong in a James Bond yarn, not a noir genre piece. There is a point to these overblown characters, and the explanation of events seen in the first film links the story nicely, making the standalone trilogy opener seem more episodic.
The fractured story structure also takes some getting used to after the tight plotting of the original; however, there are so many plot strands fighting for attention it’s hard to care about any of them. Millenium's investigation into the sex trafficking business is at first intriguing, bringing a new face into the publication in the form of Dag Svensonn, whose character seems set up to be a Blomkvist protege until his abrupt demise. Later, though, the sex trafficking investigation switches from primary story catalyst to disposable subplot, as the focus is fixed squarely on Lisbeth. It is true that interest wanes whenever she is off-screen, but it seems too frivolous to dangle worthy plot diversions in front of us, only to snatch them away when it's time for Ms. Salander to shine.
The chemistry between Blomkvist and Lisbeth was a major pull of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, and the sequel suffers by keeping them apart. Lisbeth’s isolation fits with the story, yet one can’t help but yearn for another tentative romantic exchange between the disparate pair. Nyqvist’s performance is perfectly fine, his world weary sleuth is as enjoyable to watch as ever, but in The Girl Who Played With Fire Blomkvist is merely a cipher, a font of exposition to break up the narrative flow of what is essentially the Lisbeth Salander story.
Messy and disjointed it may be, yet in the middle of the confused story and the offbeat characters (seriously, a 7 ft. henchman that feels no pain), is Rapace’s performance. A woman of actions, not words, who has the ability to enthral by merely tapping away at her laptop, Lisbeth Salander is a formidable screen presence, it will be interesting to see how Rooney Mara can emulate this magnificent performance for the forthcoming American remake of The Girl With Dragon Tattoo.
It lacks the style and fresh appeal of its predecessor, and the story is populated with too many cartoon villains for it to be taken seriously, but The Girl Who Played With Fire is held together at the seams by the Noomi Rapace’s flawless performance. KT
Film: A Serbian Film
Release date: 3rd January 2011
Certificate: 18
Running time: 95 mins
Director: Srdjan Spasojevic
Starring: Srdjan Todorovic, Jelena Gavrilovic, Katarina Zutic, Sergei Trifunovic, Slobodan Bestic
Genre: Drama/Horror/Thriller
Studio: Revolver
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Serbia
One of the most controversial films of recent years, this journey into the dark world of underground adult filmmaking genuinely pushes the boundaries of extreme cinema. But does the disturbing content on show have a point? Or is it simply designed to shock the audience into submission?
Milos is a semi-retired porn actor with a loving wife and son, and a peaceful family life. He attempts to keep his family’s lifestyle afloat by taking part in numerous low budget adult productions, much to the amusement of his envious brother, Marko, a corrupt police officer who covets Milos’ wife.
After a recommendation from his friend and former colleague Lejla, Milos is approached by adult art house director Vukmir, who offers him considerable payment for acting in one of his experimental productions.
As filming begins, Milos is introduced to an uncomfortable style of filmmaking, which incorporates certain elements he does not want any part of. Shown the disgusting limits of Vukmir’s imagination, Milos attempts to leave the production, however, Vukmir drugs him, and he is subjected to a horrifying gauntlet of sexual violence, and forced into unimaginable acts against his will…
Controversy is a strange and unpredictable beast, especially in the realm of cinema. Often sparked by the knee jerk reactions of censorship boards, the controversy surrounding a production will more often than not provoke interest for all the wrong reasons - multitudes flocking to see just what was so bad that the censors didn’t want us to see. This will more than likely be the case for A Serbian Film, a deeply troubling experience that has garnered a considerable cult following thanks to its butchering at the hands of the classification board. Unfortunately, those that rush to see the gratuitous nature of the much talked about newborn sex scene (thankfully, cut in its entirety for this UK release) will be missing the point entirely.
Put bluntly, A Serbian Film is about being pounded. Writers Radivojevic, Dragojevic and Stanosevic purport that from the moment we are spat into this hellish world, to the inevitable (and frequently violent and abrupt) instance we are taken out of it. It’s a grim, autobiographical outlook that stems from the plight of the Serbian people at the hands of the government:
It all starts rather well, offering up a sobering examination of an ex-porn star’s fruitless retirement. A dejected husk on the verge of full blown alcoholism - Milos is the film’s strongest asset and Srdan Todorovic is an engaging presence. Skeptical at first, he is ushered through some wonderfully constructed sequences - his confusion echoing that of the audiences, as Vukmir’s goons shoot him on DV and his ‘director’ whispers instructions into an earpiece. It’s in these scenes that A Serbian Film impresses most; cold, abstract and evenly paced.
Light, comedic moments in which Milos interacts with his family are juxtaposed with darker scenes as Marko’s burgeoning jealousy becomes apparent and Milos’ wife question his passion for her in comparison to the girls he has sex with on screen. Later, as the Vukmir production begins, we are slowly eased into an uncomfortable universe, replete with surreal imagery shot with a minimalist’s eye.
Then the film radically shifts tone. Milos wakes up dazed, covered in blood, with only fragmented, hellish memories, which the viewer experiences in flashback. It’s certainly a gruelling experience for the most part - the final act in particular pushing the viewer to their very limits. Yet, while Milos is drugged, broken, beaten, raped and forced to do unspeakable things in the name of Vukmir’s grand cinematic designs, the writers’ intended message is lost amidst all the nihilism. It doesn’t’t help that that Milos’ torturers are cookie cutter bad guys straight out of a B-Movie. Sergej Trifunovic’s performance is far too overblown to be menacing - a pantomime villain, he is kindred spirit of Dr. Hieter, the zany mad man played by Dieter Laser in The Human Centipede, this year’s other sick trigger cult horror.
It’s a shame that the film loses its way so dramatically - the gratuitous violence on show bludgeoning the viewer with sequence after sequence of Grand Guignol mayhem, completely negating the chilling dread of the first half. The film becomes a perfect example of deliberately confrontational cinema - a pastiche of a hundred video nasties, undoubtedly powerful yet so OTT that it can’t help but seem a bit silly.
The filmmakers’ message somehow remains amidst the aftermath of all that carnage, especially in the grim dénouement. No hope is offered in the conclusion; no lesson is learned by the principle characters. It’s a bold move for such a soul draining experience to have no positive emotional reprieve, but that, of course, is the point. Milos and his family are exploited and destroyed by an organisation far too powerful for them to fathom and, in the simplest terms possible, the bad guys win.
A truly worthy entry into the annals of controversial cinema, A Serbian Film has lots to say, but has perhaps chosen the wrong way to say it - the filmmakers’ message morphing from an unsettling whisper to a primal scream that manifests itself as a cavalcade of extremely violent acts. Gorehounds will love it, but those that should see it, probably won’t want to. KT
Film: Velvet Revolution
Release date: 1st November 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 111 mins
Director: Oleg Stepchenko
Starring: Alexey A. Petrukhin, Aleksey Kravchenko, Aleksandr Karpov, Oleg Taktarov, Michael Madsen
Genre: Action/Crime/Drama
Studio: Scanbox
Format: DVD
Country: Russia
Fledgling Russian director Stepchenko tackled that ‘difficult second movie’ phase with this frenetic crime film. Delving deep into the soviet drug trade, his film is a curious mix of action and film noir.
Major Vershinin is a cop dedicated to toppling the crime in his district. A loose cannon with a dark past, he focuses all his energies on the capture of two mob lieutenants, Pike and Rock.
After a botched operation at an American football game, Vershinin begins to doubt his own capabilities, and suspects someone has been plotting against him - every step of the way.
Vershinin must contend with a drug addled wife and his daughter’s hedonistic lifestyle, while at the same time attempting to thwart the plans of crime kingpin Kurkov and his dealings with an American drug lord and a mysterious benefactor. He must do this under the watchful eye of Suvorovtsev, a new partner assigned to keep him in check...
Michael Madsen used to be a big pull back when the memories of psychopathic killer Mr. Blonde (Reservoir Dogs) were still fresh in the collective film going mind. Now his presence on the cast list of any film usually indicates a production lacking in quality. This may seem like unfair stereotyping of a jobbing actor, but, sure enough, Velvet Revolution starts off with a short cameo from Madsen and from then on, it’s all downhill.
Attention deficit editing makes the films opening act nigh on unbearable for anyone wanting any semblance of story or character introduction. Stepchenko bombards us with firecracker imagery and lightning fast location changes handled with all the finesse of a golf club to the head (which may or may not happen in the film’s opening moments, it all depends on your ability to not blink).
The film slows down a bit as we are introduced to Vershinin, who is played with little subtlety by Aleksey Kravchenko. This is a considerable shame because it is Kravchenko who so impressed in the 1985 masterpiece Come And See - here he uncomfortably spits out samples of the hackneyed script and makes an occasional stab at playful comedy.
Velvet Revolution’s key failing is its confused identity. Vershinin’s world-weary narration and troubled family life have an air of noir-ish cop drama, while interludes of playful bickering between himself and Suvorovtsev suggest a buddy comedy. As the confused story draws on, we enter Bond-style action territory, complete with nefarious evil schemes and overblown action set pieces. It’s difficult to pin down the film’s motives, as most of the time it doesn’t seem to have any.
The cast are patchy across the board, with Kravchenko giving a confused central performance replete with forced emotional outbursts and posturing. Alexey Petruhkin is a bit more engaging, perhaps because the script requires nothing more from him than stoicism. Anna Chipovskaya and Viktoriya Tolstoganova are good value as Vershinin’s misanthropic daughter and junkie wife respectively, but they aren’t given enough screen time to make enough of an impact.
Action fans won’t be disappointed; explosions come thick and fast and serve to break the monotony. A skirmish in an underground drug lab is one particular highlight, which manages to throw an awkward phone conversation and a couple of chickens into the fray. It seems Stepchenko is adept at overseeing a great shootout, but flounders when it comes to orchestrating a decent exchange of dialogue.
Some solid action aside, Velvet Revolution fails to do anything but bore with its one-dimensional characters and convoluted plotting. There is a pre-credit dedication to those who “stand guard over the future of our children,” suggesting a message lost amidst all the frantic edits and bad acting - and highlighting the muddled tone of Stepchenko’s film. KT
Film: Ong Bak 3
Release date: 11th October 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: TBC mins
Director: Tony Jaa & Panna Rittikrai
Starring: Tony Jaa, Supakorn Kitsuwon, Dan Chupong, Sarunyu Wongkrachang, Petchtai Wongkamlao
Genre: Action/Martial Arts
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Thailand
Tony Jaa returns in the eagerly anticipated follow up to Ong Bak 2. Jaa’s confused prequel to the original Ong Bak divided audiences and nearly ruined his career; does this threequel redeem both Jaa and the Ong Bak saga? Or is it another missed opportunity.
After his arduous journey to avenge the death of his father, Tien is captured by Lord Rajasena and sentenced to death. Undergoing a series of horrific tortures, Tien is broken and crippled until his death seems inevitable. However, Tien is rescued by Master Bua and begins a long physical and spiritual recovery.
Meanwhile, Lord Rajasena is slowly going mad from a curse placed on him after he seized power of the province. He seeks refuge from the Crow Ghost, who promptly refuses, kills the evil lord and usurps his throne.
Holding a personal grudge against Tien, the Crow Ghost eagerly await’s the warrior’s recovery so they can do battle for the final time…
In 2003, Ong Bak exploded onto the martial arts scene with all the severity of an elbow to the face. Arriving in a time when wire-fu was the chosen method for dust ups in mainstream action cinema, it heralded a return to the brutal realism that made eastern fight films so popular in the first place. A paean to the old school, Ong Bak also introduced us to the wonderful Tony Jaa, who, in his own unassuming way, assured himself a place in the martial arts pantheon.
A sequel followed in 2008, with Jaa in the director’s chair. Although Onk Bak 2 suffered from a turbulent production that nearly ended Jaa’s career, it remains a solid follow up despite its many flaws - and is by no means the disaster many paint it to be.
Jaa returns in Ong Bak 3 to conclude the story of Tien, who, for all intents and purposes, is a spiritual ancestor of Ong Bak’s Ting. So, is this threequel as messy and self indulgent as its predecessor? Unfortunately, the answer is a resounding yes. Ong Bak 3 marks itself as the weakest in the trilogy, due to its confused story and horribly uneven pacing.
The second film in the series, while not as bone crunchingly brutal as the first, still boasted some bravura fight sequences to distract from all the muddy period detail and karmic plot contrivances. The big mistake with Ong Bak 3 is that it dials down the fighting even further, to make room for Tien’s redemptive character arc.
Starting the film as a tortured captive, Tien is then rescued and spends the next hour recovering from his ordeal. Along the way he has numerous spiritual crises, contemplates suicide, grows a number of fetching beards, and generally falls over a lot. The recovery arc is all well and good for a martial arts epic, especially one whose characters the viewer is already heavily invested in, but when it’s as long and drawn out as this, there is danger of alienating the core audience.
Thank god then for Dan Chupong’s energetic performance as Crow Ghost. A minor adversary for Tien in Ong Bak 2, Crow Ghost graduates to fully fledged villain in the threequel. It’s his supernatural displays of fighting prowess that manage to keep the films latter half from bottoming out - many will find it tempting to fast forward past all the beardy soul searching and get to the next Crow fight. Yet even Chupong’s performance suffers from a lack of narrative clarity. Why does Crow Ghost go from creepy cave dweller to power hungry tyrant in the blink of an eye? Why does he have such a vicious vendetta against Tien? When he assumes power of the throne, why does he take off that fetching black cloak? All of these questions and more are left unanswered; it’s almost as if Jaa and Rittikrai didn’t feel the need to explain themselves, deciding instead to just bombard us with a series of random events.
It seems tradition in Tony Jaa films now for the film’s final act to be one giant primal scream from the pint sized fighter - it’s just unfortunate that the climactic brawl at the end of Ong Bak 3 is tarnished somewhat by the previous eighty minutes. A clever stylistic twist means that we get two endings for the price of one but even that can’t seem to sate after such an arduous build up. Ong Bak 3 is ultimately a well executed failure - perhaps Jaa should stick to being in front of the camera for future projects.
Tony Jaa presents us with another lovingly crafted misfire, replete with Buddhist mysticism and themes of redemption, but sadly not much else. There are fights, and they are impressive, but nothing here compares with the magisterial action present in the first film. Ong Bak 3 isn’t really a bad film, it’s just a bad martial arts film. KT
Film: The Horde
Release date: 20th September 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 93 mins
Director: Yannick Dahan & Benjamin Rocher
Starring: Claude Perron, Eriq Ebouaney, Aurelien Recoing, Doudou Masta, Jean-Pierre Martins
Genre: Action/Crime/Horror/Thriller
Studio: Momentum
Format: DVD
Country: France
Writer/director Yannick Dahan adds some hyper stylised action to the traditional zombie apocalypse movie with The Horde, a perfect marriage of brawn and splattered brains.
In the desolate northern slums of Paris, a rogue police unit, headed up by Jimenez, execute an unsanctioned attack on local drug lord Adewal, to take revenge for the death of one of their own.
On arriving at the apartment building, events soon lead to a bloody shootout and the police are captured and held at the mercy of the drug cartel. Yet, when the casualties of the bloodshed begin to rise from the dead and attack them, the group soon realises that they have more than each other to worry about.
Caught in the middle of an outbreak of bloodthirsty undead cannibals, Jimenez and Adewal form a shaky partnership in order to survive and escape the apartment building, much to the chagrin of their companions…
Once a niche sub genre of horror, the zombie film has gained ubiquity in the past decade, largely thanks to filmmakers who wish to pay homage to its ‘70s heyday. Popularised by George A. Romero, who liked to attach allegory and biting satire to the undead apocalypse, Z-horror has now become a shadow of its former self. Fast zombies, Nazi zombies, zombies with social issues - the zombie iconography has been endlessly recycled and run into the ground. For every success, (Shaun Of The Dead, [REC], Romero’s continuing Dead Saga) there is an army of soulless barrel scrapers (Zombie Diaries, Zombie Highway, the Resident Evil franchise).
What makes Yannick Dahan’s B-Movie different from the norm is that he doesn’t seek to over complicate his undead maguffins. There is no attempt at humanising the horde, nor are they presented as a metaphor for the dead eyed masses of the status quo. They are simply a plot device, a catalyst that exists merely to perpetuate some Hollywood style action beats.
The pacing of the film is furious throughout, from a bloody botched sting in the opening act to a series of brutal zombie attacks. The film only slows for a short breather as the disparate group meet a loony resident (the film’s only weak link, who wears his welcome out way before the final act), and hideout while going through the usual “what’s going on?” paces.
Dahan and co-director Benjamin Rocher pile on set piece after set piece, and it becomes hard to focus on such frivolities as ‘plot’ and ‘substance’ - who needs them when there’s an army of zombies being cut to pieces by an antique WWII machine gun. The films showpiece sees hero Jimenez, perched atop a car, taking on the horde with a pair of pistols a machete and a dirty vest. Its OTT, it’s iconic, and it encapsulates everything that makes this film so appealing.
The cast is deliciously expendable, no character spends much time on screen before being made into lunch, it is left to Perron and Ebouaney to keep the audience invested in the films flimsy human element. Jimenez and Adewal make for a strong hero/anti-hero pairing; the former an honest cop forced into an unlikely situation, the latter an honourable criminal with trust issues and a strict moral code. It’s a testament to these central performances that we actually care about the fate of these genre staples.
Overall, The Horde is an action movie that just happens to have zombies in it, its cops Vs criminals Vs the living dead. Not particularly original, and lacking any real substance, it still crams enough energy and enthusiasm into its running time to keep gore hounds hooked.
Blood, guts, zombies and octane; Yannick Dahan throws an army of undead into a generic action plot to create an interesting and fun hybrid. One dimensional characters and wafer thin plotting aside, The Horde is a thoroughly enjoyable popcorn horror. KT
Film: Red Cliff
Release date: 5th October 2009
Certificate: 15
Running time: 142 mins
Director: John Woo
Starring: Chang Chen, Tony Leung Chiu Wai, Zhang Fengyi, Takeshi Kaneshiro, Zhao Wei
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama/History/War
Studio: Entertainment In Video
Format: DVD
Country: China
The father of heroic bloodshed returns to his roots with a majestic re-telling of the Battle of the Red Cliffs and the birth of the three kingdoms. Revered for his work in the action genre, Woo journeyed west where his talent was diluted by the Hollywood studio system. In 2009, he returned with this, a lavish experience that brings that distinct Woo signature to the period epic.
During the Han dynasty of imperial China, ambitious Prime Minister Cao Cao is given power by the weak willed emperor Xian. Cao Cao seeks to dominate the southern regions by defeating the armies of Lui Bei and Sun Quan.
Cao Cao’s forces are overwhelming, displayed through several bloody skirmishes, yet many brave and skilled warriors still fight for the south.
Liu Bei’s chief advisor Zhuge Liang feels the only way to get a foothold in the war is to recruit the services of Sun Quan and the Wu Empire. Zhuge quickly bonds with Sun’s most trusted official, Zhou Yu, and together they persuade Sun Quan to enter the war against Cao Cao.
Meanwhile, Cao Cao’s forces approach the Wu stronghold of Red Cliff from all directions. As the vast armada approaches from sea and land, the southern alliance prepare to defend themselves against Cao Cao’s assault…
Red Cliff came as a refreshing change for a western audience gorged on Wuxia adaptations. Thanks to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, the crossover appeal of period Chinese cinema increased tenfold, audiences flocked to see gravity defying assassins, colour coded armies and CGI arrows. Yet, as undoubtedly wonderful as those films are, they adhere to an almost fairytale like formula, complete with the fanciful dream logic that formula allows.
In John Woo’s triumphant return to Chinese cinema, there is no flouting of Newton’s law, no stylish and aesthetically pleasing swordfights, just nationwide warfare painted with epic brushstrokes.
It’s clear from the outset that we are not in familiar Woo territory. A sweeping score accompanies us through the clouds and across the lush vistas of a perfectly re-created 3rd century China. The set design, costume and photography is painstakingly meticulous - spectacle is the film’s chief characteristic.
Perhaps the most surprising thing about Red Cliff when comparing it to the director’s other work is the strength of the story and characters. Adapted from ancient literature concerning the tribulations of the three kingdoms, the script is surprisingly diplomatic with some of the historic figures. Cao Cao isn’t the moustache twirling, merciless villain that he could have been, Fengyi Zhang instead offering a ruthless yet ignoble portrait of the dictator. Elsewhere, Takeshi Kaneshiro is a joy to watch as the brilliant strategist Liang, and Tony Leung once again displays stoic confidence as Zhou Yu.
Strangely for a John Woo film, Red Cliff has some impressively strong female performances, a considerable departure from the wafer thin plot devices that usually populate the director’s work. In a film replete with almost superhuman men, it’s refreshing to see some ‘girl power’.
The highlights of Red Cliff, though, are its many spectacular battle scenes. The bloody opening battle is just the tip of the iceberg - later there is the tortoise formation, in which the southern forces lure Cao Cao’s army into a deadly maze of shields and spears. This is just one of many inventive gambits cooked up by Liang, another being the almost comedic acquisition of arrows from Cao Cao’s legion of archers to replenish his own supply.
It is during these epic action scenes that Woo can cut loose and unleash those beloved filmmaking tics. The heroes of the south stalk through the battlefield, cutting a swath through the opposing forces in glorious slow motion. While his career has been stagnating in Hollywood, it has been easy to forget how much of an accomplished technician of carnage Woo actually is.
A triumph for all concerned. Strong performances lead what must surely be John Woo’s finest work. Epic battle scenes punctuate a wonderfully told story of political turmoil intrigue. Woo presents a lovingly recreated depiction of 3rd century China, with extra doves. KT
Film: Death Note 1 & 2
Release date: 20th September 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 262 mins
Director: Shusuke Kaneko
Starring: Tatsuya Fujiwara, Ken'ichi Matsuyama, Asaka Seto, Shigeki Hosokawa, Erika Toda
Genre: Crime/Drama/Mystery/Thriller
Studio: 4Digital
Format: Blu-ray
Country: Japan/USA
An epic cinematic adaptation of Tsugumi Ohba’s smash hit manga. A commercial and critical success on release, Death Note and its sequel Death Note: The Last Name were to prove that translating the energy and invention of manga to live action isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
A promising law student and son to the chief of police, Light Yagami feels that justice doesn’t’t reach the wicked as swiftly as he would like. When Light discovers the mysterious Death Note, a book that kills the owner of any name written in its pages, he seizes an opportunity to set the world right.
Befriending the Death Note’s previous owner, a death god named Ryuk, Light proceeds to take the lives of criminals that have slipped through the cracks of the justice system.
Given the name ‘Kira’ and revered by the public, Light soon lets the power of the Death Note corrupt him.
In an effort to catch the mysterious Kira, the police call on the help of L, a master detective who employs unorthodox but brilliant methods to flush Kira out.
Light and L lock wits and leave a trail of bodies in their wake, including Light’s girlfriend Shiori, who he sacrifices to escape suspicion and get closer to L.
Meanwhile, a famous popstar/TV personality named Misa receives her own Death Note and the companionship of death god Rem. Misa sacrifices half the years of her life for the death god’s eyesight, which allows her to see the name and remaining lifespan of any person. A devoted follower of Kira, Misa begins a killing spree to bring them together, hoping that they can cleanse the world of evil together.
Light, now on the Kira investigation team, seeks to find out L’s real name once and for all and defeat his nemesis, leading to a climactic showdown as Light and L confront each other in a battle of wits…
For many fans and critics, it would seem folly to try and translate the energy and visual splendour of a great manga into live action - there will inevitably be something lost in transition - which is why it so surprising that the Death Note films are such a success, capturing the spirit of the source material perfectly, and largely avoiding any dilution of that signature energy.
Although adapting Ohba’s work shouldn’t have been that daunting, given the technological capability of cinema these days, it’s still impressive that director Kaneko has not only managed to recreate faithfully the events of the manga, but also give his films their own distinct identities.
This unique feel is largely down to a great cast, particularly the central pairing of Fujiwara and Matsuyama, excellent in both films as the Machiavellian Light and his brilliant nemesis L. Fujiwara, so effective as a good guy in film’s like Battle Royale, manages to make Light’s quick decent into malevolent evil convincing and sympathetic.
Fujiwara is the perfect foil for Kira’s schemes, a modern day Sherlock who eats nothing but junk food and has a penchant for cruel and unorthodox investigation methods. L is the best thing about both films, frequently stealing entire scenes just by eating marshmallows on a stick.
Erika Toda also impresses as Misa Amane, the self-titled ‘Kira II’ and second Death Note recipient. Her role as Light’s biggest fan and eventual partner in crime is somewhat threadbare, but her tragic backstory, and the treatment she receives from both Light and L highlights Misa as one of the story’s’ only sympathetic characters.
Perhaps one of the biggest strengths of both films is translating successfully some of the more fantastical elements of the Death Note manga, specifically the death gods Ryuk and Rem. Ryuk, who is given a meaty role in both films, is a computer generated character of such accomplishment, he can be mentioned in the same breath as a certain ring hungry ex-hobbit. His appearance is faithfully recreated, and Shido Nakamura’s voicework gives him a manic energy - even more so than his exaggerated, anime-like mannerisms.
Less focus is placed on Rem, Misa’s death god, but equal attention to detail can be seen in translating his image directly from page to screen. Also, in one of the stories many depictions of light versus dark, Rem acts as a kinder counterpart to Ryuk, disinterested in the pain and suffering of others and bound to his honourable duty to Misa. Both shinigami are great value and fit comfortably in with the human characters. The films are so successful because they capably marry the story’s fantasy element with a hip, real world charm.
There are some gripes, and chief among them is the uneven pace of both films, steamrolling through some plot strands while ambling through others. Why, for instance, is Light’s descent into evil explained away with a brief flashback, while the investigation into ‘Kira’ is stretched across the entirety of the first film? Surely more focus should have been placed on the genesis of the story’s villain. Later on, Misa’s subplot appears sporadically throughout the second film, giving little chance to engage with her character - she goes from obsessive and deadly Kira fan to vulnerable torture victim in only a handful of scenes.
These minor pacing quibbles aside, both films steadily gather momentum leading to satisfying (if a little murky) conclusion. The Last Name’s final stretch suffers from some unnecessary plot convolution, throwing one too many Kira’s into the mix, which highlights the inability of the writers to cram every manga plot strand in competently. Overall, the story of Light Vs. L is one worth experiencing.
Essentially a trite observation of the true nature of justice, the story of Death Note has enough parallels with modern cultural climate to maintain a certain relevance. Shusuke Kaneko presents a faithful adaptation of Ohba Sugumi’s manga, and the accomplished ensemble cast inhabit their roles perfectly. KT
Film: Dogtooth
Release date: 13th September 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 97 mins
Director: Giorgos Lanthimos
Starring: Christos Stergioglou, Michelle Valley, Aggeliki Papoulia, Mary Tsoni, Hristos Passali
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: Verve
Format: DVD
Country: Greece
An intense study of three young adults contained within a fabricated existence constructed by their parents. Yorgos Lanthimos casts an unflinching eye on the taboo, his minimalist approach uncovering disturbingly real performances from a brave cast.
Father and Mother live a seemingly perfect existence in a large, secluded compound in the countryside, where they look after their three children.
Daughter, Older Daughter and Son never leave the compound on specific instruction of their parents, who tell them horror stories about the wildlife outside the garden fence.
The children spend their days learning a fabricated vocabulary and competing for the approval of their parents, in the hope that they will receive points of merit, or perhaps one of the toy airplanes that fly over the house and sometimes fall from the sky.
The only outside visitor to the compound is Christina, an employee of Father who services the sexual needs of Son. Christina soon begins to take advantage of Older Daughter, trading outside stimuli for sexual favours. This incurs the wrath of Father, who then decides to look within the family for a new sexual partner for Son…
Yorgos Lanthimos’s stark vision of an enforced microcosm has no real agenda other than the observation of cruel experimentation disguised as parental instinct. The reasons behind this experiment, the motivation of Mother and Father, and many of the films other moral conundrums, are open to interpretation.
There is a nihilistic streak running through Dogtooth that is rarely seen in modern cinema. Not since the early work of Lars Von Trier and Abel Ferrara has such an indifferent eye been cast on human suffering. As viewers, our compulsion to take sympathy on the children is at odds with our morbid fascination, which in turn is conducive towards being complicit with the parents. A purposeful lack of any kind of cinematic gloss accentuates the bleak realism of Lanthimos’ film. While not exactly dogme, the distinctly minimalist style is contextually apt and contributes greatly towards to the unsettling atmosphere.
The narrative of Dogtooth is steadfastly murky. No motive is offered for the parents’ decision to imprison their offspring; no explanation is given as to why they decide to fill their heads with a nonsense language and encourage them to compete in cruel popularity games that often end in shocking acts of violence.
When Father visits an elite canine training facility to retrieve a new addition to the family he is offered a clinical deconstruction of animal obedience, the only insight we have into the strange lives of the family is the expression of understanding on Father’s face.
The children should be an object of sympathy, yet even this isn’t as simple as it should be in Lanthimos’s strange, sombre reality. Daughter creates many of the games that start the fierce competition between her brother and sister. Son is replete with childlike innocence, yet his position as future patriarch means his role within the family is resented by his sisters. It is Older Sister, played with quiet confidence by Aggeliki Papoullia, who emerges as the film’s only glimmer of hope. Whether she is quoting Jaws by the pool or displaying a blossoming penchant for manipulation with Christina, Older Daughter seems to be the only one of the children that has evolved past the restrictive world created by the parents. Although, in the film’s final moments, the sense of hope is tainted by the bleak reality of the children’s institutionalised existence.
An unsettling psycho-drama that recalls Von Trier, Dogtooth is disturbing, thought provoking and, at times, uncomfortably amusing. Yorgos Lanthimos’ strange portrait of an experimental family unit attempts to embroil its audience in the sinister machinations of Mother and Father. KT
