Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Life's a Breeze


2013, Ireland, directed by Lance Daly

A disappointment after Daly's previous film, Kisses: the believable characters there are for the most part replaced by sitcom ciphers here, especially Pat Shortt's character, which dispenses with any of the subtlety the actor showed in, say, Garage. Fionnula Flanagan and Kelly Thornton, by contrast, do rather better as the grandmother and granddaughter who develop a new relationship against a backdrop of family turmoil, and while the film does hit the expected plot points -- and includes the kinds of musical montage that you'd expect from something essentially light-hearted -- they are at least allowed to remain true to themselves at the film's conclusion.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

1


2013, US, directed by Paul Crowder

Though overall it's a fairly unquestioning advert for the modern iteration of Formula One -- the criticisms of the FIA are restricted to the past -- there's still some stirring archive footage here, since the focus of the film is primarily on the 1950s-1970s, and many of the iconic figures from that era (when they've survived) appear on camera. It's chronologically rather awkward, however, with an abrupt jump from the early 1980s to the death of Ayrton Senna in 1994, as a bookend to the narrative about improvements in driver safety, and while the footage of the events at Imola is undeniably poignant, this is a rather surface treatment compared to the 2010 film Senna.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Mystery Road


2013, Australia, directed by Ivan Sen

A fine, distinctive procedural, with an unusual setting in the Australian outback and a determination to avoid the standard clichés of the genre/geographical territory: the land itself isn't the danger here, rather its human inhabitants, while the Aboriginal cop relies on his police training rather than on any quasi-mystical abilities. As a depiction of the small outback town, it's less feverish than Wake in Fright but almost as good on the smaller details -- the one decent restaurant that keeps popping up, or the languid rhythms that make a morning beer seem like a decent idea. The genre aspects are well handled, too -- the mistrust between cops of different backgrounds, or the unusual shootout, crisply and clearly filmed so we know who's doing what to whom, at the climax.

Friday, March 07, 2014

La Vie d'Adèle -- Chapitres 1 & 2


2013, France, directed by Abdellatif Kechiche (aka Blue is the Warmest Colour)

One of the first, brief comments I read about Kechiche's film, a dispatch from the 2013 Cannes festival, suggested to my mind a resolutely realist approach. Leaving aside a discussion of what "real" might mean, I couldn't relate my first impressions of the film with those of the Cannes correspondent: Kechiche to my mind is very much interested in the poetic flourish, in showing not just what is, but what someone might see when their view is coloured by their attraction to or affection for another person. That's particularly striking when we imagine certain shots as being from the perspective of Léa Seydoux's character -- the sun-dappled views of Adèle Exarchopoulos during an early conversation, or the shot from above when Seydoux spots the younger woman awkwardly seated at a bar, almost glowing at the center of the image. There's also the quite wonderful, if very brief, shot when the camera moves back over Exarchopoulos's head at a moment in the film when her world has been turned upside-down -- there's nothing else quite as obviously showy in the film, though it seems perfectly in tune with the character's emotions. As to the film as a whole: others have argued forcefully as to its authenticity as a depiction of lesbian love, about which I can say very little, but as a character study it's utterly absorbing, both due to the commitment of the actresses and Kechiche's ability to create the space for the privileged moment -- a look between performers in a conversation over plates of pasta, the ways in which Adèle talks to the children in her charge late in the film, all of which feel as they though they are the product of an effort, presumably very demanding, to fully inhabit the characters.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Les Inconnus dans la maison


1942, France, directed by Henri Decoin

No great surprise to discover that the first filming of this Simenon story is superior to the 1990s remake, and even less surprising to discover that the script, by Henri-Georges Clouzot, displays a good deal of the acidity he'd unleash with full force a few years later in Le Corbeau. The film is a good deal tighter, with Decoin and Clouzot spending less time establishing Raimu's bona fides as an unreliable drunkard -- one suspects the Belmondo ego requirer more screen time -- although the sheer unlikeliness of the scenario, and the apparent absence of questions of conflict of interest in the French legal system, persist. Here, though, the scenario is used in the service of a commentary on the insidious relationships between the haute bourgeoisie of a small town; 1942 audiences in France may well have read the plot, with an unwelcome home invader shot to death in the opening sequences, in rather different terms, and indeed the dead man is of virtually no interest to anyone except in so far as he motivates the plot. The last third of the film is an extended courtroom sequences, and Decoin uses the ornate courtroom to good effect, with the witnesses often filmed from above, as though from the judge's or the jurors' perspectives; he picks up, too, on the ways in which the various players cannot hide their distress or consternation in this most public of forums.

Monday, February 24, 2014

The Act of Killing


2012, Denmark/Norway/UK, directed by Joshua Oppenheimer

A troubling film on many levels: most obviously in terms of its content, which includes interviews with members of Indonesian death squads from the 1960s, and their relationship to the paramilitary forces that seem to play a major part in Indonesian politics today. But also discomfiting for the questions it raises about the documentarian's role and the context in which the film was shot. While there is some effort to provide the historical context of Indonesia in the 1960s, we gain virtually no insights into the processes that led to the rather extraordinary collaboration between Oppenheimer and his subjects except to deduce, from the tone of the back and forth, that they know one another quite well.


The men re-enact some of the worst of their atrocities, initially in the most straightforward way possible, taking us to the actual locations and demonstrating how they, for instance, strangled a person. Subsequently, though, they engage in full-on dramatizations: scenes of actual interrogations as filtered through the participants' imaginations, and quite consciously taking on the stylings of Hollywood movies. At times, the participants make reference to the fact that they are, themselves, making a film, and it's not always clear where Oppenheimer stands in relation to that process. 

In many ways, the Hollywoodization of the atrocities is entirely apt, for many of the death squad members got their start as movie ticket gangsters -- selling black market tickets to movie-goers -- and in one especially chilling sequence, Anwar Congo shimmies across a street in the present day, remembering his younger self emerging, ecstatic, from an Elvis Presley flick, before crossing the street and resuming the brutality in an interrogation center just steps from the movie theatre. Last year, while doing research on the American movie industry in Africa, I saw files on their efforts to expand the Indonesian market in the 1960s, and one wonders to what extent Hollywood was at least aware of, if not complicit with, the gangsterism surrounding its business activities. 

Thursday, February 20, 2014

The Lorax


2012, US, directed by Chris Renaud and Kyle Balda

I'm not sure there's much of the spirit of Dr. Seuss remaining -- the colour schemes and artwork don't owe much to the original book, as the end credits, which are more faithful, make clear -- except perhaps for a touch of general whimsy, particularly in the behaviour of the titular creature. His method of celestial locomotion is certainly arresting, and it's amusing that there's no attempt whatsoever to explain this unexpected skill. Viewed simply as a kid's movie, and using my sample size of one to measure success, this is pretty solid entertainment -- some good voice work, eye-popping chase scenes, and just enough darker material to keep it interesting without causing too much fright. As to the notion of giant movie companies trying to teach us lessons in responsibility, that's surely one of the distressing ironies of the corporatized world.

Patience: After Sebald


2012, UK, directed by Grant Gee

As elliptical and absorbing as the book, W.G. Sebald's Rings of Saturn, that inspires it, Grant Gee's film provides glimpses into the physical world that Sebald encounters during the course of the long walk that gives the book its framework, while also suggesting that a literal re-tracing of steps is not the most productive way to understand Sebald's process or intent. The book is almost like a series of Alice-in-Wonderland rabbit holes -- one moment we're strolling along a stretch of coastal Norfolk, the next we're considering the ramifications of the Taiping Rebellion, Roger Casement's work to publicize abuses in Congo, or the cultivation of the silkworm. At times, this reminded me of the effect of clicking on too many hyperlinks: you can't quite re-trace your steps to figure out why you're suddenly reading about some new and absorbing topic.

And yet there's nothing accidental about Sebald's intent -- the silkworms provide a haunting example, with the long section on their cultivation foreshadowed throughout the text, and working in parallel with other sections on connections forged across time and space. One commentator here discusses the extraordinary effect of Sebald's method, whereby an apparently benign beginning suddenly brings us to the camps of the Second World War, for instance, confronting us like a slap in the face amidst the apparently bucolic setting of his book. There's an image in the book, reproduced in the film, that encapsulates that effect rather brutally -- bodies lying on the ground in the kind of forest that the Romantics might have celebrated (an image that recalls Simon Schama's extraordinary discussion of forest imagery in Landscape and Memory, published the same year as Sebald's book).

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Most of the images here are either studio publicity stills or screen captures I've made myself; if I've taken your image without giving you credit, please let me know.

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Boston, Massachusetts, United States