The Screen Bug

2006-12-01T23:32:00.000+08:00

Director Profile: Juzo Itami

A tragic end belies a life lead with purpose. The son of a successful filmmaker, Juzo Itami made his name acting in television and films before making a late career shift into screenwriting and directing at age 50. Known to choose the subjects of his films through everyday observations, he often followed up significant events in his life with films depicting idiosyncrasies that he felt were unique to the evolving Japanese culture. He was the definition of an iconoclast who took the great Molière’s words to heart, "castigat ridendo mores" (criticise customs through humour).

Attributed as a key figure in the re-emergence of the latest wave of Japanese films that marked their presence outside of Japan, Itami proved to be a force of energy and originality that revived the country’s stake in international cinema during the 80s. Critics and audiences alike were simpatico when it came to his clever and keenly entrenched satires of his country’s societal misgivings and he quickly became the most famous modern director of his generation. Throughout his directorial oeuvre of 10 films (list at the end), which stretched from 1984 to his final film in 1997, they were popular both domestically and maintained a staunch international following.

Every so often Itami was compared to his then recently deceased French counterpart, Jacques Tati, who utilised similar styles of critiquing their society’s cultural transition while crafting films with trenchant distinctions in humour and sadness. They also had almost similar, brief numbers of films that they directed and wrote before their death and they also used similar elements in the majority of their films. Itami cast his wife, Nobuko Miyamoto in every one of his 10 films. She was synonymous with Itami’s fans across the world. Her versatility with melodrama and her impeccable comic timing proved invaluable to her husband’s unique blend of the two genres as she portrayed characters that have been labeled as an “Everywoman” role. These roles laid the groundwork for a much more diverse representation of genders in Japan’s films as Itami’s women were usually strong, smart and gifted with moral fortitude when faces with tremendous adversity.

A common misconception outside of Japan would be that “Tampopo” was Itami’s career-making debut. And although “Tampopo” is his most successful and critically acclaimed to date, his first feature was actually a humourous look at the Japanese attitudes towards death in “Ososhiki” which touched on the generational gap opposing the stringently revered traditional values of the elders and the often-callous modernism of their children. “Tampopo” followed it to immense and unexpected success outside of its native land. The gastronomic “noodle western” as Itami himself had coined it, was an episodic venture (which formed the structure of his other films) of a restaurateur determined to create the best possible noodle for the best possible noodle eatery. Consumed with quirky characters and their own respective obsessions, it was a surreal fusion of wink-wink ribald imagery that was obstinately Japanese and a cheeky lampoon on the Leone “spaghetti westerns” that showed early signs of his development to an auteur. The public was now aware of Itami’s established comedic style and free-wielding use of the narrative and they wanted more.

After a string of successful hits such as “A Taxing Woman” and its sequel came one of Itami’s most intriguing films to date in “Minbo”, also commonly held as “The Anti-Extortion Woman”. It was scathing attack on the pride of the Japanese Yakuza through the film’s story of a spirited female protagonist skewering and training feeble men to fight back against the criminal elements through courage and determination instead of resorting to violence. The film’s realistic content apparently hit a sore spot with real gang members who waited outside of Itami’s home and slashed him across his face that left him in the hospital. During his recuperation at the hospital, he found material for his next feature in “Daibyonin” about a dying film director accepting with his illness amidst an uncaringly cold healthcare system with an ironic look at infidelity and suicide that was a precursor to the rest of Itami’s life. Still haunted and suitably outraged by the attack following “Minbo”, Itami’s final film in 1997 was the black comedy “Marutai no onna”. It was his ode to freedom of expression that revolved around an actress witnessing a cult murder and becomes a target, both in the media and for hired guns.

On December 20 1997, the 64 year-old Itami was found seriously injured on the street below his office and later died in the hospital. A suicide note was left behind by Itami that expressed innocence to a tabloid’s accusation of his infidelity with a younger woman. Itami’s energy and aversion to jadedness in his long career in films would have no doubt been still at use to this day if he was alive.

Reviews:

1. Marutai no Onna (Woman of the Police Protection Program) (1997)
2. Supah no Onna (Supermarket Woman) (1996)
3. Shizuka na Seikatsu (A Quiet Life) (1995)
4. Daibyonin (The Last Dance) (1993)
5. Minbo no Onna (Minbo — or the Gentle Art of Japanese Extortion) (1992)
6. A-ge-man (Tales of a Golden Geisha) (1990)
7. Marusa no Onna II (A Taxing Woman's Return) (1988 )
8. Marusa no Onna (A Taxing Woman) (1987)
9. Tampopo (1985)
10. Ososhiki (The Funeral) (1984)

2006-11-29T03:22:00.000+08:00

Quinceañera (2006) (Richard Glatzer / Wash Westmoreland)

“Quinceanera” has an understandably broad appeal in its keenly observant and unassuming exploration of a Mexican American family and the extending community. And that proved to be the case when it seized both the Audience Award and the Grand Jury prizes at Sundance, a feat unheard of in these times of divided opinions. It gladly wears its optimism and giddy exuberance on its sleeves when it introduces us to the innocent charms of its ingénue, Magdalena (Emily Rios) during a zestful celebration, a rite of passage for young women called a quinceanera. But will Magdalena’s own quinceanera be as joyful?

When the threat of an extra mouth to feed comes looming over her family’s celebratory mood, the shamefaced Magdalena finds herself exiled to her great-uncle’s rented apartment in a building owned by a duo of gay white yuppies eager to cash in on the burgeoning property market. She finds herself sharing a common but uneasy bond with Carlos (Jesse Garcia), another family member ousted because of his sexual preference.

The writer-directors in Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland do not condemn the conservatism of the immigrant Latino community. Their social commentary is primarily concerned with the ones that are forgotten, misplaced in the functioning society’s own religious principles and way of life. Astutely crafting a smooth flow and a nicely paced narrative, it has an astonishing amount of detail and observations in its compact and decidedly simple story of outcasts in the country’s minority neighborhoods. Transcending its clichéd scenarios, it manages to convey a sense of longing in the pariahs while they huddle together in a small apartment with problems that can only be sorted by them. Staying clear of odious stereotypes about gangland lifestyles and contrivances about inhabitants of the barrios, it finds an able and authentic footing in its environment that effuses a rare amount of sincerity. In its packed house of flawed but relatable characters, each of them is made real by distinctive and natural performances.

Read the rest at: MovieXclusive.com

2006-11-21T16:50:00.000+08:00

Cure (1997) (Kiyoshi Kurosawa)

With a much more divided critical base than his much revered namesake, Kurosawa either draws ire or much respect for his genre twisting mindfucks of Asian cinema. I stand somewhere in between because even while I recognise and applaud his intentions and sheer nerve in bending the genre to the extent of esoterica, there's just something hollow left behind. With "Cure", he adds to an oeuvre of stringently erudite horror/thriller by quite obviously referencing the 1995 Sarin gas attack on Tokyo's subway system.

He dithers around the subject of cults and finds that searching for identity in a (dys)functional society a much more clamant aspect of a person's descent into GroupThink and susceptibility of persuasion. Deliberately coy and abstract, Kurosawa is an auteur of surrealism and builds a intriguing cross between David Fincher and David Lynch while questioning our buried impulses and slowly pulling back the layers of detachment in a country that's gradually supplanting it's own identity with nothing of note.

Arguing that the diegetic murders are related in more ways than a mysterious amnesiac and a curious X carved in the victims' neck, Kurosawa links the cause to the alienation from our contemporary lifelessness by way of allegory. With no discernable soundtrack aside from the electronic droning, ambience and permutations of desperation in the lone protagonist's voice, Kurosawa demands attention through arduousness in minimalism but relents a caveat before long in its subtle ambiguity.

Rating: 3½ out of 5

2006-10-25T16:01:00.000+08:00

Clerks 2 (2006) (Kevin Smith)

Almost everyone is familiar with the indie sensation, “Clerks” that transformed Kevin Smith from a struggling new director into a cult hero amongst detached and world-weary young adults. If not there’s always “Chasing Amy, “Mallrats”, “Dogma” and “Jersey Girl” (which I believe even Smith wouldn’t even want mentioning). No longer an unknown quantity, we pretty much know about his modus operandi in his movies. With a repeating menagerie of quirky slackers and his incredible knack for persuasive patois, it’s much like observing cinematic vaudevillians staging hijinks in everyday situations.

Indeed, Smith still preaches the same iconoclastic ideals in his entire oeuvre as he did in his debut. Now he returns to his most beloved stomping ground in the View Askewniverse with his tried and trusted caboodle of key characters in Dante (Brian O'Halloran), Randal Graves (Jeff Anderson), Jay and Silent Bob (Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith). He brings aboard veteran (in these circles at least) performer, Rosario Dawson as Becky, Dante and Randal’s boss at their new burger flipping jobs, and Smith also brings along a couple of new performers in Trevor Fehrman and Jennifer Schwalbach (Smith’s wife), who are unfortunately the weakest links in this retrospective self-justification. Smith’s stroll through his past brings back the laughs that’s unseen in his later works, but leaves a lot of the heart behind in lieu of loftier ambitions.

What “Clerks II” has going for it is its vintage, ubiquitously ribald humour being delivered and scripted by its master vulgarians who don’t seem to have missed a beat even a decade on. It’s pretty much a jazzed up (budget wise), more sophisticated jaunt with its manchilds through the tedium of minimum wage jobs, all in the space of a day. More elaborate gags, unconstricted by singular locales and a much more rounded soundtrack are welcome additions. “Clerks II” has substantially more plot than its predecessor, making the humour and characters much more significant in their presence, not just participants in episodic events staged about specific punchlines. This obviously offers a chance to craft a suitable bookend to the lives of these characters as well as possible openings for further ventures in the future.

Randal takes the centre stage in this film, much like Dante did in “Clerks”. He’s possibly the best and most elevated character within the cartoon cutouts that the rest of his cadre appear to be. He’s the biggest manchild of them all but also the one who seems to be the most self-aware about his situation, keeping his insecurities hidden just long enough to belt out another diatribe to strangers about the changing world that is adamant on leaving him behind. Compare this to the uneven characterisation of Randal’s fellow burgershack colleague, Elias (Trevor Fehrman) who’s a devout Christian, a “Lord of the Rings” and “Transformers” fanboy virgin that happens to believe the most inane lies told to him by his peers. Oh, and he’s also a mama’s boy.

Perhaps the most unforgivable misstep for Smith would be his indecisiveness in actually settling on a message. 10 years ago, leaving it open was a great setpiece for the rest of Dante and Randal’s stunted lives. But how was he to know that he’ll be revisiting the Quick-Stop once more and now, conclusion is needed especially in the midst of potentially life-changing revelations.

Rating: 3 out of 5

2006-10-14T01:35:00.000+08:00

Exiled (2006) (Johnnie To)

What an interesting double bill this would be with “The Departed”. As opposed to that film’s approach of visceral, unflinching violence, Johnnie To brings a sophisticated chic to battles in his newest thriller, “Exiled”. To is fast becoming the most dependable Asian director in this genre today, after coming off a string of acclaimed hits with the complex and purposeful Election films. This could seem a return to a style that first garnered him critical attention and gifted him the nickname of Hong Kong’s “Sergio Leone”.

With the handover to China looming just a year away, reverberations are being felt throughout the Macau underworld. There’s a strong need for scores to be settled and feasting eyes of the mobs from the nearby territories are directed at the southern island. With this political realignment as a backdrop, To urges an intrinsic race against time as old friends and old enemies take their places in order to topple impending gangland regimes and secure their final paydays. Like démodé dinosaurs trapped in a world of lawlessness, friends sharing the same childhood are pitted against each other, silently contemplating their options in midst of divided loyalties as the clock ticks down.

These steely-eyed men, with determined and hardened exteriors each hide a sentimentality that does not go unnoticed. The film does not make any apologies for their line of work, nor does it give excuses or consolations for the acts they’ve committed. But you don’t need to like them in order to root for them. Their reticent features and certain resignation to the twilight of their era are telling enough of their fates.

Read the rest at: MovieXclusive.com

2006-10-14T01:27:00.000+08:00

My Summer of Love (2004) (Pawel Pawlikowski)

It’s a cruel summer indeed. “My Summer of Love” stands as almost a scornful swipe against its title. Writer-director Pawel Pawlikowski shows the impudence of being that age when romance is almost as grave as life and death and important enough to be swept away in a tide of hormones and irrationality. In a small idyllic village, just north of England, a snapshot of an intoxicating and sultry femme relationship between a naïve native and a worldly, cultured out-of-towner starts to bloom just as the hillside flowers start to.

Seductive and sensual, Pawlikowski’s naturalist tones and earthy colours complement the summer’s languorous transience. Class warfare, religious transgressions and misandry bubble below the surface but strong performances from each of its main cast give a trenchant sense of knowing of painful adolescence to the film during a fateful event of a young girl’s life.

Gravelly voiced, booze-guzzling young Mona (Nathalie Press) craves for a distraction this season. Her brother, Phil (Paddy Considine) is an ex-convict, born-again Christian seeking emotional refuge in the town’s sect of charismatic Christians. When we first meet him, he drains the bottles of alcohol, intent on making their bar a new haven for his religious congregations. Naturally, Mona spends more time with the girl she met during a balmy afternoon on the grassy knolls. Almost chivalrously plucking her out of the dense reality she faces during the summer, Tamsin (Emily Blunt) strides up to her on a white horse and introduces her to a different life.

Read the rest at: MovieXclusive.com

2006-10-13T23:19:00.000+08:00

The Anti-Extortion Woman (1992) (Juzo Itami)

The rumours go that the Japanese director Juzo Itami was attacked by the Yakuza due to the realistic and disrespectful portrayal of them in his 1992 comedy “The Anti-Extortion Woman” or more commonly known as “Minbo”. Realistic? I can’t say for sure. But was it disrespectful? Absolutely. Itami crafted a niche for himself in the early 80s and late 90s with off-kilter comic gems that reveled in their absurdity and dealt with unusual subject matter, starting with his hit, “Tampopo”. This feature definitely extends that offbeat sense of humour coupled with his darkly tailored undercurrent of social criticism in a simple plot that unfortunately is neither biting nor potent enough to warrant its lengthy runtime and exaggerated mode.

Minbo according to the attorney Mahiru Inoue (Nobuko Miyamoto) is slang, a truncated term for something that lawyers understand as the gentle art of extortion used by the Yakuza. She’s somewhat of an expert in these matters as we see in a promising first scene at the poolside in Hotel Europa, a first-rate hotel competing for the attention of foreign delegates. However, the hotel’s reputation is tarnished with the continued presence of the different Yakuza families who use the grounds as either meeting/exchange places, lounging areas or even to cheat the hoteliers out of some yen. The boardroom decides on taking action by assembling an Anti-Yakuza force from within but only manages a schmuck accountant and a meathead bellboy, both with plenty to learn about the world they live in. After an inspired introduction to both of them, the film gets down to the nitty-gritty of them failing to get rid of these foul-mouthed, shrewd gangsters. Well, this movie isn’t called “The Anti-Extortion Woman” for nothing. And after about a dubious quarter of the film, we finally get to be truly acquainted with Miss Inoue, which really puts the opening scene’s purpose into perspective.

She’s here for a reason and that’s to help the hotel and in the process teach these men a thing or two about being men. The film is strongly attuned to its titular character with her presence alone driving the film forward in terms of its comedy and plot. She faces up to overly confident mob bosses and talks them down to the hilt with her legal expertise and well-prepared plans that rely on surveillance and the need to be vigil in the face of overwhelming threats. It’s novelty wears thin after awhile though, when she uses the same strategies over and over again with the new gangsters that show up. However, it can’t be understated that the film’s bulk of coherence lies with these scenes as she mentors the hotel into self-defending itself against these thugs.

Nobuko Miyamoto, Itami’s wife is often cast in his films in a variety of roles. Her role as Inoue is by far the strongest in the cast that is usually prone to overacting and embarrassingly over-the-top theatrics that can actually be described as vaudevillian. She brings a deep sympathy and caring into her role as a confident but never hubristic seasoned attorney that specialises in Minbo. She never talks down to the dolts in the casts and is believable in her persuasiveness with the Yakuza and Itami wisely revolves an inert comedy around her pint-sized figure being surrounded by pompous, large men that inevitably fall to her knees. She even changes a massive shift in tone by coming up strong in an uneven denouement at the end, finally wising up everyone else to the virtues of being strong even in the face of hardship.

Rating: 3 out of 5

2006-10-11T02:11:00.000+08:00

The Departed (2006) (Martin Scorcese)

As darkly comedic and resonant as “Goodfellas” (if they had mobiles and wireless Internet) and as virile and gritty as “Mean Streets”, Scorcese scores a winner by all regards in “The Departed”. And yet the closest description for a story of this magnitude that spans across the generations and multiple complex characters would be “L.A. Confidential”. Rarely does a film work on every level that it aspires to and there’s really not much to say that contradicts it. It’s a potboiler crime fiction of epic proportions with every strand of intersecting plot brimming with rising conflict.

The coarse dialogue, contextual environments and masculine anti-heroes are straight out of Scorcese’s playbook, transposed from mobs to cops. The frissons of being mucked in such a ravenous war zone of conflicting ideals is slowly transformed into a deeper sense of apprehension when it becomes an operatic thriller that closes in on the deception and betrayal between the men caught on the frontlines.

Let me just begin by assuaging fears of a slavish copy of the original as Scorcese, who is arguable the master of the modern gangster genre (including the inspiration for Hong Kong’s wave of gangster films) makes this revision very much his own and all but seals his accolades come award season. The premise and plot structure remain true, but key sequences have been given a new treatment and there are different assertions and idiosyncrasies in the characters which are created by their respective actors.

It’s a welcome difference in the locale from Hong Kong to Boston. It allows for more elaborate setpieces with clever use of racial prejudices and homophobia in the language that adds another dimension to the politics involved. And of course a much more vibrant Boston landscape in the film’s brooding atmosphere that plays a bigger part in the film’s scope with its flagrant bending of time and space. And as usual, one actor stands out playing his role the way audiences have always recognised him. He brings a crucial, unrestrained element to his larger-than-life character that one might suspect is unseen in the script.

Nicholson’s Costello is an expanded takeoff from Eric Tsang’s supremely underdeveloped but scene-stealing role as the mob boss Sam in “Infernal Affairs”, just one of Scorcese’s prerogatives that was undertaken with the glut of talented performers he was presented with. Nicholson forces himself into the foreground with yet another of his quintessential performances that borders somewhere between paranoia, rage and aloofness. But Scorcese burdens the film’s strongest scenes by placing Nicholson in the centre stage, letting him pull the emotional strings with nervy self-reliance by sheer presence alone. Of course, this can be a masterstroke at times, but an overdose of Jack can betray a scene’s natural gravitas.

Read the rest at: MovieXclusive.com

2006-10-06T22:18:00.000+08:00

Ong-Bak (2003) (Prachya Pinkaew)

Evoking the duality of good and bad through the pastoral simplicity of the Thai countryside and the seedy underbelly of Bangkok’s prostitution and drug trade, “Ong-Bak” argues its principles with a brutally honest knee to the face of the West’s creeping cultural domination of Asia. The filmmakers present this as a homage to the visual masters in Besson, Spielberg and most of all the glut of Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan fighting vehicles that saw them fleeting from hordes of non-descript assailants through literally tight spaces. Tony Jaa’s prototypical monastic role as an avenging warrior for the lower rung of Thailand is no different from his role in this film’s follow-up international moneymaker, “Tom Yum Goong” or more particularly known as “The Protector”.

Other than its similarities in characters, Jaa has to retrieve his temple’s talismanic Buddha statue head (the titular Ong-Bak) that is being held for ransom by Bangkok druggist, Don instead of being commissioned to rescue his elephants from animal traders in its structural and thematic progeny, “Tom Yum Goong”. The stoic (by choice?), reticent country boy is thrust into a dodgy and faced with dangers at every corner, mostly by evil and greedy men trying to make a quick buck from Jaa’s expertise with his elbows and knees.

The most apparent hint of the veracious nationalism that “Ong-Bak” suffuses between its prolonged chase sequences and high kicks to head are set in the dingy underground fighting club where patrons of all nationalities and races huddle together, hand on each other’s shoulders while corralling a motley collection of ribald pugilists hoping to best each other blow for blow to receive that plate of prize money.

In steps Jaa with his tattered temple habits, unaware of the monetary reverence for such an occasion. As the newly crowned fighting champion rushes towards Jaa with his fists clenched, up goes Jaa’s knee to deliver a knockout that silences the raucous crowd. In yet another scrap at the same club, a brawny Aussie lout bellows across the room to Jaa’s disinterested character after nearly decimating his previous opponent who jumped in to rescue a damsel as said lout was groping her repeatedly. Rounding off his character as best the writers could, his soft spot for rescuing distressed women prevails and Jaa unleashes a torrent of body blows onto the racist, sexist and eventually vanquished miscreant, resulting in the long overdue return to the main plot.

Playing as though through a series of videogame levels varying in difficulty, the settings and pliable environments start to change but not the fighters. Each opponent are nothing but fodder to the invincible Jaa as he dispatches each one of them with astonishingly legerdemain and a refreshingly straightforward temerity unseen in any city boy that knows what’s best for him and his limps. This machine of a man probably leaves behind a hundred men in his wake until he reaches the tough final boss stage, the right hand stooge of the villainous old man with a neat idiosyncrasy suggesting either a barely breathing, handicapped warning label or a “live every moment till life crashes down on you” type of attitude. “Ong-Bak” is appropriately billed as brilliantly choreographed escapist fare that presents to us a man without personality and without emotions, just a moral imperative that transcends life and death.

Rating: 3½ out of 5

2006-10-04T21:18:00.000+08:00

Général Idi Amin Dada: Autoportrait (1974) (Barbet Schroeder)

In anticipation of a career best perfomance by Forest Whitaker in “The Last King of Scotland”, I hunted down the Criterion of this remarkably pieced together composite of General Idi Amin Dada, the forgotten Ugandan tyrant who seized power in the early 70s and ruled it with a murderous fist until his eventual ouster. The records speak for itself. The genocide, the corruption and the paranoid executions of his confidants find its way into the documentary but Barbet Schroeder's unique and darkly humourous focus always stays on the hauntingly paradoxical look at the avuncular disposition of the despicable despot.

Essentially, and with the need to be succinct, the General comes across as a child trapped in the man’s body. His small-minded view of the world, his brio for military games and his risible ballroom antics show an incomprehensible rationale for his iron grip. His scheming seductions to the media and to the outside world come through in full force as he looks for the camera before speaking. Idi Amin does not deny his Machiavellian approach to establishing his order but chooses not to dwell on them as he thinks his answers through carefully and elaborates on his imagined successes. Often, he trails off into a deranged rail on foreign countries and other African establishments but conducts himself with a manner of undeniable presence that’s as compelling as it is repelling.

Like a playground bully, Idi Amin is competitive and largely insecure. He is blissfully unaware of his own people’s struggles and abhorrence for his policies. Everyone else except the emperor realises that the emperor has no clothes on. His need for validation from his people belies the issues of trust that he has for those around him as he administers his version of tough love, much like a child and his pets. But ultimately it is seen that he has become out of touch with the very citizens he boasts that he goes out and gregariously meets each day.

The Iranian born director of German extraction is ironically simpatico with Idi Amin’s preference of people as Schroeder prods him ever so gently with nervous laughter, like one might daringly try to interest a grumpy Doberman in a game of catch. Schroeder’s discernment of the situation he was in with the vain General and his eventual manipulation of him allowed his documentary crew access to a conclave of the state’s ministers and military higher-ups. It is where Idi Amin, although aware of the camera’s burning gaze, warns death on spies and warns “removal” of inept ministers, leading to Schroeder’s unnerving revelation as his camera lingers on the cold, brutality of a killer.

Much of the documentary’s humour is inherent. Schroeder does not make any allusions to satire, or even impose a caricature of the man. No, Idi Amin does that all by himself. Armed with a razor sharp wit, he jokes with rooms of people, even resorting to self-deprecating humour that really only he could make. A natural charmer, he comes across early on as the jovial sort, with a disarming innocence that’s staggeringly shattered when he takes up arms and spews anti-Israeli sentiments. While extolling the virtues of his mind-boggling economic and military policies, he does it without understanding how and why they do not work. And no one dares to advise him on that either. Very telling is the scene on the boat when he asks the camera crew if he should “ask” the crocodile to leave.

With an ambition the size of Napoleon, Idi Amin considered himself a major leader in the world stage but there’s something so terribly amateurish about his regime, much like many other African regimes back then. We don’t get to know his precise political thought, he does mention not entirely following the rigidness of communism and capitalism but all it does is underline his resolve to control his country by his terms. Although he lived mainly through the atavistic displays of force, he did show some progressive ideas such as implementing more women in the managerial workforce, albeit only in the hospitality industry. Mixing his awe of modernisation (risking his country’s reserves) and grandiosity with his reverence for his region’s tradition, Idi Amin saw himself as a revolutionary.

The back-story of this documentary is almost as gripping as the film itself. Schroeder befriended Idi Amin, although a tenuous relationship, he gets him to open up about the things that he wouldn’t tell his own cabinet of ministers. He partakes with the General in admittedly staged scenes of overt celebrations and letting him direct himself in exchange for getting him in every shot aside from the scenery (masterfully photographed by Néstor Almendros).

After the filming, Schroeder found himself in a predicament when word got back to Idi Amin after its initial release in France and London that its audience found it to be “funny like a comedy”. When his demands for cuts were not met, Idi Amin rounded up the French living in Uganda and threatened their lives if Schroeder did not relent. And of course, he did. Thankfully it was restored after Idi Amin’s exile from the country. Even under the restrictive guise of a self-portrait, Schroeder masterfully instills a subtext that even before the cuts, Idi Amin could not properly discern because of his ego. The awkward gazes and listless looks of his employees and citizens are an inside joke for us but a reality for the megalomaniac. Schroeder lets Idi Amin present to us his own insanity within the smiles and guffaws.

Even as the film fails to fully structure the whys and hows of Idi Amin’s maniacal views on the world, it does hint at the harsh bleakness of colonialism leaving a bloodstain with each of Idi Amin’s actions. But what makes this documentary much more compelling than any straight observation of a tyrannical authoritarian is its own fascination with the subject. Captivated by Idi Amin’s charisma, and the creeping sense of dread when the truth is finally mined, the crew found a goldmine of ideas relating to violent dictators throughout history as this documentary shaped up to be a portrait of not just Idi Amin but of all rulers. Controversial and foreboding scenes of him inviting Palestinian terrorists bore fruit years after the release of the film and a chilling symmetry with George W. Bush’s war on terror is gleaned when Idi Amin exclaimed that dreams vaticinated his wars.

Rating: 4 out of 5

2006-10-02T03:10:00.000+08:00

The Wind That Shakes the Barley (2006) (Ken Loach)

“The Wind That Shakes the Barley” is Ken Loach’s latest ode to those that had to betray their better angels for something they more or less believed in. Staunchly socialist and drawing criticisms for his success in Cannes, Loach thankfully refuses to pander to both sides. He sticks to his figurative guns by unapologetically crafting a one-sided view on a subject that he feels confident in, much like “Land and Freedom”. It does not support so much as condemn and shows how the violent trajectory of the IRA’s policies and actions throughout the years came to be. In the end, it is not so much the political polemic as many as claim or hope it is, but a pointed political examination of the dread that war drums up amidst the quixotic ideals of patriotism and martyrdom.

“Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man.” – Nietzsche

An occupation starts to take shape in 1920s, Ireland when the British send in their military squads known as the Black and Tans. The film is keen to point out that these soldiers are remnants of the cruelty that World War I had left in its wake. The much-reviled British soldiers are caricatured as brutes, but in truth, they give off a sense of desperate senselessness by reluctantly laying their humanity on the line for a cause not all of them believe in. And that can very well be said for the Republicans as well. There are no winners. There are no saviours. There are only choices to be made. The lines that are crossed define these characters.

Damien (Cillian Murphy), a young trainee doctor abandons a potentially fruitful career in London to join up with his brother, Teddy (Padraic Delany) a political firebrand for the local resistance movement, the last bastion of hope for many. After certain events, Damien is urged to join up and relent working for the Brits. Though sensitive and acquiescent in disposition, he gradually numbs himself to the sanguinary nature of rebellion and gives up his tourniquet for a rudimentary rifle.

The full-blooded cinematography is in stark contrast to the gray, bleak world that is being depicted. A quick check shows the unsurprising inclusion of frequent Loach collaborator, Barry Ackroyd, responsible for its masterful cinematography. Its pastoral simplicity is engulfed in a complex battle of principles as blood is shed indiscriminately upon its meadows. Hillside ambushes amidst the foliage lead to stained verdure and the deathly calm aftermath as the survivors tally the casualties. It starts to eat away at the vigilance of these men as it hauntingly signifies what’s to come.

Soon the subterfuge, clandestine assassinations and abuse their womenfolk receive by protecting them start to take their toll on these men. As soon as a truce is called, many of them rejoice even though they know that they are still not truly sovereign. But at least the violence ceases and the impunity lifted over the despicable abuses of power. The Anglo-Irish Peace Treaty is signed, forming the Irish Free State that remains under the dominion of the British Empire, and strictly loyal to the monarchy. Teddy, jaded from fighting the good fight, chooses the respite from the constant struggle. To complicate matters further, Damien is adamant that a truly independent state will only come if they shake off the British shackles. They are pitted against each other’s perfidy as tragic and powerful metaphors fuel the backdrop of their waning ambitions, slowly finding themselves fighting against something and forgetting what they were initially fighting for.

It rescinds on Michael Collins’s historical role in establishing the Irish Free State, Loach takes the unorthodox approach in dismantling the self-serving romanticised paradox of freedom fighting from within. The terms, oppressors and victims are routinely switched around. Casual as that sounds, it truly signifies the futility of violence for the sake of ideology. They constantly feud while on the same side as the gasconading bravado of its masculine characters threaten to implode their united and spirited response towards their occupiers. It does begin by not fully romanticising the idea of rebellion and justice being served swiftly and without recrimination. But the temptation to do so never full dissipates as a burgeoning romance grows between Damien and Sinead (Orla Fitzgerald), a fiery character opposed to the aggression that ensues on both sides. Loach lingers on the violence and the cost of uprising against a battle that is there to be lost. The shots are measured from a distance, mourning the circumstances. Gracefully mixing up a downbeat sense of loss with a blend of impassioned rhetoric and cinematic brutality, it accomplishes an appropriately funereal atmosphere in each of its scenes.

Time passes arbitrarily, while observing the ad hoc building of plans and situations, which is viewed with underwhelming anticipation. There is something so disconnecting in its quick scene after powerful scene. While the dialogue is seemingly crisp and natural between the Republicans, it is also unusually fast and highly derivative, commanding all attention. The dependence of the dialogue and inherently dragging pace threatens to overpower the raw intensity of the actions. The latter half does tend to veer towards melodrama, and over-wrought scenes of verbose, passionate speeches strangely switches allegiances of the fighters at the drop of a dime. It is most convincing, not by its words but by its actions as clearly seen in its opening minutes. That single event polarises young Damien into the politicised man we follow throughout the film.

While the address on ideologies tends to overshadow the film itself, it does accomplish many moments of clarity with the strength of its performers. Loach’s intimidating political affiliations aside, it is generally well made. Recreated with such insight and groundwork, his commitment shines through at every level. As with all his films, the ardent and sincere look at politics through his characters distinguishes them as people caught in a whirlpool of despair. They show lament, fear and even some apathy to the choices they have before them.

It draws undeniable parallels to contemporary deliberations about the conflict in the Middle East and insurgency against the US and Britain. There is a distinct disgust at the idea of militarism and clerical influence in the state. The urban guerilla freedom fighters are just ordinary folk caught in a landslide of activism, straddling the thin line overflowing with brutality and the excruciating agony of guilt while not becoming intoxicated by the violence. Entrenched with the “an eye for an eye” dogma, it signifies the mutually ruinous end of all. By accentuating the power of choices, it prods us to witness the inner struggle of finding a footing in the slippery slopes of warfare.

Rating: 4 out of 5

2006-10-02T02:57:00.000+08:00

Monsieur Hire (1989) (Patrice Leconte)

Patrice Leconte's talents as a comedic filmmaker are no doubt renowned but he takes the dramatic, tragic reins on Georges Simenon's brilliant story "Monsieur Hire", a decidedly different approach to "Panique" which handled the same subject matter with the same characters. This involves sinister trappings of the utmost order.

A murder of a young girl in his neighbourhood sparks off rumours. Hire's neighbours talk while the inspector listens. Very often he claims, the one that seems guilty, is guilty. Monsieur Hire is not remotely intimidated; he rightly attributes their suspicions to his seemingly misanthropic persona. Living alone, he dresses in the same suit each day, goes to work while strictly keeping his greetings formal and uninformative, and comes home to a simple, inelegant dinner of a hard-boiled egg. You see, Monsieur Hire is not a hermit; he does not suffer from agoraphobia nor does he fear people. It's a lifestyle that he's taken up, due to mistrust of others, even perhaps a snobbish contempt of others. As per the inspector's investigations, he finds Hire bowling rather flamboyantly, entertaining the rest of the bowlers. He's their king. But when returning home, he is ridiculed by the children (he stays annoyed but does not grow scornful of them). One can still detect that he's more open to them than the adults.

The murder mystery takes a backseat to Hire. It’s a taut, compelling character study that flows beautifully. It’s structured so well and acted on so marvelously by Michel Blanc (who helmed “The Escort”, my next rental) who effuses such a subtle, sad anger that defeats the man Hire obviously wants to be. And subtly is something “Monsieur Hire” does brilliantly when he’s allowed to see, but not touch and allowed to touch but never feel. There’s so much to be said for composing shots that hide behind exteriors, afraid to discover the intricacies of their maiden relationship. Leconte observes on the level of Hire. He photographs and captures a scene in its absoluteness, lingering just long enough for us to absorb its significance but switches it fast enough for us to want to know more.

Hire has a rather unsettling past-time involving the woman who lives across from him, a floor below. Like clockwork each day, he looks and sees everything she does, as though entranced with her life. She does notice him one day, shocked initially but then becomes interested in him. He does not want to admit that he’s finding her company pleasant. Complicating their relationship is her boyfriend, oblivious to Hire but obviously no less painful for Hire to see. It’s such a sensual affair; poignant as anything you could hope to see. Look for the scene on the bus that encapsulates their relationship in a glance. My only regret is that we don’t learn more about Monsieur Hire before the film rolls to a close, but I believe we would have learnt more than we should about such a man.

Rating: 5 out of 5

2006-10-02T02:49:00.000+08:00

Lemming (2005) (Dominik Moll)

A childless, young upwardly mobile couple have recently moved into Bel Air, France after the breadwinner, Alain Getty (Laurent Lucas), is offered a prominent engineering post at a home automation development firm. His waifish plain-jane wife, Benedicte (Charlotte Gainsbourg), stays home to fix up the new house for their idyllic and promising futures together. On the other end of the age and marriage spectrum are Alain’s boss, Richard (Andre Dussollier) and his wife Alice Pollock (Charlotte Rampling) who are bitterly unhappy, jaded and loveless.

Rampling, who ages beautifully here, is the film’s undisputed ace in the hole. Alice’s dour disposition, invective barbs and countenance bears years of experience and portrays a failing resilience. She unsettles the characters and audience through sheer concentration in her eyes, fueled by sexual psychosis and misanthropic menace. She proves indispensable in Dominik Moll’s “Lemming” by embodying the essence of the film’s desire to be inscrutable, sinister and haunting.

After a riled dinner invitation from the Gettys’ to the Pollocks’, their conversance brings together unexpected revelations and nasty consequences for the young couple. Much like Mike Nichol’s classic 1966 meditation on adult relationships in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”, there is so much more to be said for what stays undisclosed than what is eventually revealed in this tense chamber piece when the worlds of these contrasting marriages collide. I would go amiss if I didn’t offer up a caveat before anyone embarks on this film, since one should not go into this with preconceptions of the plot from mere synopsis and should shed presumptions about its utterly fluid and amorphous genre.

Read the rest at: MovieXclusive.com

2006-10-02T02:44:00.000+08:00

Viva Cuba (2005) (Juan Carlos Cremata Malberti)

Having only seen a handful of Cuban films in my day, I was starting to get familiar with the heavy-handed approach that wielded together both the narrative and its requisite reflection on Cuban politics. However, with Viva Cuba I was surprised to find a relatively low-key and touching portrayal of a group that has been largely ignored by its native filmmakers. It’s about the current Cuban exodus that is observed through the eyes of 2 children.

While acclaimed in the festival circuit, it most notably won the Grand Prix at Cannes for the best children’s fare and was Cuba’s official submission to the Academy Awards last year. Helmed by Juan Carlos Cremata, a successful Cuban director with a controversial past, Viva Cuba is less an indictment of flawed USA-Cuban relations than it is about the lives of its characters, the duo of Malu (Malú Tarrau Broche) and Jorgito (Jorge Milo). They are 11-year-old classmates and best friends at the brink of their burgeoning adolescence who are being kept apart by their families. Jorgito comes from a poor, working class background with strong roots in the Cuban communist revolution while Malu’s family is staunchly Catholic, well-off and relentlessly bourgeois.

As circumstances unfold for Malu starting with her grandmother passing away, her mother makes a decision to immigrate to the US to marry her boyfriend. Unwilling to give up her life in Cuba and her friendship with Jorgito, Malu resolutely makes up her mind to travel to the other end of Cuba to convince her estranged father to refuse signing the obligatory papers for her impending migration.

Fundamentally, it’s a sincere ode to a simple time in everyone’s lives, when nothing was impossible with the innocence and sincerity of youth. The director stoops down to the level of the young protagonists, seeing everything as they do with the crystal-clear ingenuousness in which the film is handled makes this a very accessible and has a universal film.

Although it does not hit you over the head with its political messages, the atmosphere is heavy with topical issues such as immigration, segregation and what it means to have personal liberties. The localised issues are used as a backdrop for the 2 friends to balance their own developing perceptions of life against the reality they live in. The polarising dimensions of Cuba are evident in the families the children belong to with each having a strong, disparate political leaning and opinions of how the country should be run.

Read the rest at: MovieXclusive.com

2006-10-02T02:41:00.000+08:00

Crónicas (2004) (Sebastian Cordero)

As I watched the opening 10 minutes of this film with budding fascination, a maniacal lynching sequence and a torrid depiction of Ecuador starts to take shape. Slowly the set pieces are positioned amidst the self-possessed ethos of the crowd, with Manolo Bonilla (John Leguizamo) being the sidestepping knight along side his gutsy rook, Ivan Suarez (Jose Maria Yazpik) who rushes headlong into the mob on a mere command, while their queen, Marisa Iturralde (Leonor Watling) is being kept out of harm's way by the men. But this television crew is in essence, just pawns to the machinations of the news media’s escalating demands.

Bonilla dithers on the sidelines until he finally intervenes. All I’m reminded of is the tragic circumstances surrounding the award winning South African photojournalist, Kevin Carter when he snapped the Pulitzer Prize winning photograph of a emaciated Sudanese girl being descended upon by a ravenous vulture. He later described himself as yet another vulture, a predator in the midst of suffering. “Crónicas” is a depressingly cynical look at the state of affairs in a third-world nation and the ersatz concerns that the foreign news media shows in order to exploit its people. Everything that is done carries with it the terrible feeling of ulteriorities as a faux smile and a warm handshake (sometimes tucked in with a bit of cash) manipulates situations and opens doors that should have stayed closed. It is very much an unforgiving indictment on the news media and its dogged pursuit of a ratings goldmine.

Threading on the same lines as “Network”, it crosses its fictitious coverage with a compelling thriller involving the ‘Monstruo de Babahoyo’ (Monster of Babahoyo), a serial killer who has raped and murdered over a 150 young children. Bonilla, a self-involved tabloid television reporter and his crew belong to a Spanish language news network stationed in Miami that airs throughout Latin America. He walks about with a swagger, signing autographs and stays on the sidelines waiting for the right moment to turn on the spotlight. But he’s not a hack by any sense of the word. He understands that duplicity is an asset in his line of work, a tool to dig out the information he needs. In this case, he wants to uncover the identity of the Monster for a scoop of a lifetime and potentially his own show. Leguizamo gives the best performance of the cast in his understated portrayal of a well-worn reporter haunted by his guilt and questioning the price of his celebrity. And that’s saying plenty considering that every performance in this Foreign Oscar submission by Ecuador is worth its own weight in dramatic gold.

With the backdrop of rampant institutional corruption and those only too willing to exploit it, it paints a harsh and gritty landscape of living in a country of poverty and injustice where everyone has slippery fingers when it comes to the truth. It’s further amplified with a strong sense of visual authenticity, which does not accentuate the grungy dwelling areas, the shantytown slums and frenzied lawlessness of communal disagreements, but instead captures it with an unattached verite style technique.

Director Sebastián Cordéro peels back the layers of verisimilitude to slowly reveal the grim, unsettling actualities of his thriller. It shocks and daringly pushes the boundaries of audiences in some ghastly scenes. He constantly pounds us with the ethical dilemmas of journalism such as the validity and protection of sources, the emotional involvement with subjects and brokering of deals that have more to do personal gain than journalistic integrity. The more complicit that Bonilla and his crew become, the more they lose of their conscience. The throwaway lines in particular, divulges much about the inner workings of television journalism and network politics. The conversations between subject and interviewer pose the most perplexity and intrigue, as their insinuations and silence reveal more than words ever could.

Rating: 4 out of 5

2006-10-02T02:35:00.000+08:00

Murmur of the Heart (1971) (Louis Malle)

It’s high comedy. It’s French bourgeois lifestyle. Louis Malle’s delicate style of working with taboo subject matter reached a personal plateau with a dysfunctional household in “Murmur of the Heart”, an early reach back into his own garden of memories and familial idiosyncrasies that he has stringently plucked from over the years. He approaches it with an innocent intent, cheeky, but still innocent nonetheless. Through the nostalgic and mean-spirited jibes at the domestic help, clergy and stiff-lipped crust of high society, it commences on a journey of an adolescent male, Laurent Chevalier (Benoit Ferreux) in Dijon, France circa 1954. He longs to break free to that stage of enlightened adulthood that seems just within reach but yet so very far. But within its pith, it’s the very antithesis of melodrama. Taking on its inviolable subject matter’s horns with both hands, it wrangles it to the ground while giving us something to think about. It’s definitely not about exorcising ghosts of the past but to let them regale us with stories of unforgettable youth.

After 35 years, “Murmur of the Heart” still rings truer and closer to home than most contemporary comedies (and even dramas) revolving around the “coming of age” and “sexual awakening” in a young teen. It’s also more daring and liberal in its construction of key family members being part of that very natural formation of sexual DNA and identity. They discuss philosophy. They discuss suicide. They discuss “The Story of O”. Laurent and his 2 older brothers consort in disrespectfully petty behaviour contrary to what their upbringing holds sacred. Laurent’s a top student, an intellectual that sees the world around him as a playground. It’s a smalltime superiority complex as he defines his sensitive sensibilities with discernment beyond his years and a haughty disregard for divergent thoughts with a self-important air.

Revolving primarily about Laurent and his mother, Clara (“L’ avventura’s” Lea Massari), it’s a refreshing look at a parental relationship based around adoration and fondness (coming under constant mocking by his brothers) than the contemporaneous and contemptuous notion of disdain and rebelliousness surrounding the authority figures and generational gaps. It underlines the idiom of a mother being her son’s first love. In its essence, it encapsulates many complicated mother-child relationships including the emotional Oedipal issues that do crop up. And through that, a lovely parallelism is wrought with its interpretation of a woman who wants to be a girl and a boy who wants to be a man.

Conforming to an almost sitcom style, its self-dependent, autonomous scenes and situations just about start to border on farcical proportions. Its characters place sex and carnality high up on a pedestal, while Malle condescendingly films it as something so pedestrian and run-of-the-mill, not worth the hype and excitement over it anyway. He makes the patient, inevitable buildup to a key sex scene that had caused controversy when it was first released, to seem more natural and accepting than he does the sexual encounters that actually do seem the norm in society.

Rating: 5 out of 5

2006-10-02T01:25:00.000+08:00

My Super Ex-Girlfriend (2006) (Ivan Reitman)

A romantic comedy with a superhero is a great concept. “My Super Ex-Girlfriend” is written by television-writer Don Payne (which makes sense) and directed by veteran comedy director, Ivan Reitman (“Ghostbusters”, “Evolution”), who’s no stranger to mixing up the genres. With a premise as great as that, it manages to succumb to its lofty ambitions and become an adequately interesting story that was jazzed up by a creative mind and a fantastic performance. Although plagued by formulaic set-ups and the well-worn banality of predictable characterisations, it still manages to deliver a fun little flick.

It adopts the superhero and romantic comedy clichés and makes it a hybrid that’s intriguing in how it plays out but is not exactly inspired material. It just takes a tired genre and gives it an exciting new makeover in the form of G-Girl (Uma Thurman), a carbon copy of Superman right down to her Clark Kentish alter ego, the frumpy bookish curator Jenny Johnson. She meets Matt Saunders (Luke Wilson), a blander-than-vanilla, all-round nice guy architect who ‘saves’ her handbag from a mugger. From there, we get the bittersweet getting-to-know-you stage where he finds a paranoid, jealous and overly neurotic side of her.

After he dumps her, he becomes victim to her constant annoyance and you never ever want to get a superhero aggrieved. Uma Thurman is an absolute delight in the movie. Although you could argue that her titular role is mildly supporting, with Luke Wilson’s being the central chump, her commitment to her character’s neurosis is undeniable and often illuminating. Throw in a subplot with an evil villain and you’ve got yourself a silly film with the right mixture of screwball and sentiment.

Rounding off the cast is the more annoying than usual horny but clueless best friend (Rainn Wilson), the coquettish new girlfriend (the always charming Anna Faris) and top-drawer comic talents in Wanda Sykes (in absolutely pointless scenes) and Eddie Izzard playing Matt’s boss and G-Girl’s arch-nemesis respectively. The ace comic talents and seasoned rom-com performers seem bored and jaded by their roles, but still pull off an ample job.

So despite a few faults, it manages to graft out some heartfelt and genuinely amusing chuckles. If you think you know what you’ll be getting with this film, you’re not bound to be surprised (unlike “Click”), it’s like Coke with its new lime twist, a familiar but interesting taste.

Rating 3 out of 5

2006-10-02T01:20:00.000+08:00

Lady in the Water (2006) (M. Night Shyamalan)

I think the critics had a problem with it from a film theory point of view because it didn't build on the characters, often leaving them stereotypes to work with and unexplained backstories. You can't say that any of the characters have relevant depth. At least thats what I get when they say Shyamalan has no narrative cohesion which was arguably Sixth Sense's most notable point.

But from a perspective of a film-going experience, I can see see why I like it and why its advocates might have liked it as well. It is a bedtime story come to life which is why the overwrought scenes work. It's like something you might have daydreamed about after reading a fairy tale anthology. It's so visceral and in the moment for the greater part of the film, when you're on your toes to find out what he's going to pull out of his hat next. Maybe a witch? Perhaps a character reversal that was not hinted at? It does seem like a story he made on the fly which somehow made sense in the context of the tale.

It's also a beautiful picture that puts you right in the atmosphere of the apartment complex that it hardly departs from, imaginative angles and the intriguing dialogue is something I've come to expect from his films. He's also tried out humour this time round with the critical inclusion of Paul Giamatti which I felt was its biggest asset. He manages to switch between drama and comedy with such ease that his character is rightly the centre of the entire film.

I also don't see the big hullabaloo about Shyamalan casting himself as the future's intellectual saviour, he could have easily casted somebody else but its not like his acting ruined the film. He wasn't Sofia Coppola bad by any stretch of the imagination. It's a personal project for him, especially with the critic character's inclusion. It's an audible F**k You to those that can his films after Sixth Sense like they were the biggest creative flops ever made. If they failed to see some humour in that then they do deserve to get flipped off. Director's have egos, some have vast vanity projects, and people need to understand why thats interesting not insulting.

I really do feel like watching the movie again, I would think it'd be better the second time around. Like being told a bedtime story again and again or playing through a role-playing game again just because the glut of characters and mythos were so exciting the first time round.

Rating: 4 out of 5

2006-10-02T00:26:00.000+08:00

Pretty Persuasion (2005) (Marcos Siega)

Evan Rachel Wood stars as Kimberly Joyce, an aspiring starlet gifted with an amazing intellect and killer sex appeal - all while being a high-school student in a private school. An apparent culmination of a broken home, a privileged lifestyle and a lack of parental boundaries, "Pretty Persuasion" maraudes as a satire that cuts right down to teenage sex issues, racism and media irresponsibility but its really just a drama with an unhealthy fixation on comedy and no particular place to direct its send-up at.

Armed with an acumen for persuasion, Kimberly uses it on everyone, from her uncouth businessman father (James Woods) to her best friend, Brittany (Elisabeth Harnois). Lying and manipulation is second nature to her, she even manages to convince herself from time to time. She’s an anti-heroine, who you’d never root for. Not even when you learn her motivations. She knows her beauty, although good-looking, is limited, and does not set her apart from the competition when it comes to auditions and screen roles. Kimberly’s not the most popular girl either, as she dispenses insults and backhanded compliments with razor sharp proficiency but she is promiscuous, trading sexual favours for actual favours. Wary of her ‘talents’ are her teachers and principal, as they appear malcontented at her strong and formidable disposition.

Unfortunately, the English teacher, Percy Anderson (Ron Livingston) draws her ire when he punishes her and a new student, an immigrant Arab girl, Randa (Adi Schnall) who was unfairly reprimanded because of a defiant Kimberly. Randa sticks with Kimberly and Brittany, although uncomfortable with their licentious behaviour and oh-so insipid American ways, a true innocent to their immoral antics. At a slumber party, Kimberly schools them in order to enlist them in corroborating an accusation of sexual assault at the English teacher. They go along unwillingly, with the realisation of instant feminist heroism and increased exposure, in the case of Kimberly even if they lose. This incident sets off a media frenzy led by Emily Klein (Jane Krakowski), a lesbian reporter who finds herself in dangerous Sapphic territory with a master seductress in Kimberly. Allying herself with her, Emily sets out on a one-sided crusade against Percy.

What it does well is its careful unwrapping of the truth behind Percy’s accusation. It keeps us in the dark on whether he is indeed guilty. Various instances of Percy’s behaviour with his wife (Selma Blair) and furtive looks at girls in the school make us question the validity of those claims.

There’s a sense of irony in this film, when the filmmakers themselves make caricatures of the characters in the script. It’s so conceited and self-aware that it lampoons everyone and everything, from the Columbine shootings to the war in Iraq. The high-schoolers are either presented as brain-dead but attractive or sex-obsessed losers, adding to their self-parody. Everyone’s a victim in this film and everyone is an object of comtempt. Just as “Saved!” (with another rising starlet in Jena Malone) did it heart and humour, this film did it with condescension and disrespect.

Despite an uproariously hilarious portrayal by James Wood, in a role that you might think is actually James Wood as he is, it’s still a weak and offensive film that just does not know what it wants to be. It’s social commentary gone the way of opine bashing. Shame, considering Rachel Evan Woods actually gives a great performance in this, even more impressive than in “Thirteen”. Undeniably, she’s one to look to out for in the future.

Rating: 2 out of 5

2006-10-02T00:23:00.000+08:00

Akeelah and the Bee (2006) (Doug Atchison)

“Akeelah and the Bee” (Starbucks Entertainment’s first feature) is another feature focused on the tough and extremely vexing sport of competitive spelling better known as The Spelling Bee Almost becoming a sub-genre of sorts, the most prominent of these eponymic features include the tense and awesome documentary “Spellbound” and the drama “Bee Season” with Richard Gere. It has a sort of unsettling charm in the idea of harried kids pushed into the spotlight for the “most important thing” (according to their parents and peers) that they’d ever do in their lives. It makes looking at that one nervous guy before final exams pale in comparison.

Akeelah (Keke Palmer) is the customary template for youngsters that break the environmental mold from which they come from. The perennial nurture vs. nature debate rages again as Akeelah finds herself pitted against privileged and wealthy kids her age that are all vying for the same prize. As she’s an African-American girl who depends on her single mother, and looking out for her wayward siblings in a troubled neighbourhood, she also has the distinction of being the smartest girl in her middle school. She also has a prodigious affinity for words and the English language.

She spells these words magnificently, surprising everyone but her mother (Angela Bassett) who’s too busy to notice. As incidents naturally leads to circumstance, she finds herself pushed to represent her disadvantaged school in the state Spelling Bee competition to not get left behind. Under the tutelage of Dr Larabee (Laurence Fishburne), she finds the necessary strength of character to raise her up from her inhibitions. Predictable right? Undoubtedly, it is. But therein lies its main draw. It does not deny what it is, which is a family drama that’s inherently preachy and sugarcoated at the end. Beneath its sentimentalities is a film full up with heartfelt messages that are inspirational whether or not cynicisms get in the way of it. Its ardent conventionality needs the categorised supporting characters such as the well-meaning competitor and the Machiavellian adversary with a secret.

In many ways, Akeelah is lucky to be who she is. Non-descript characters come and go around her neighbourhood but it’s easily discernable that she’s not as bad off as we are led to believe. Compared to her peers in Woodland Hills and Beverly Hills, she’s just the “little black girl” but she’s also the girl who’s richer in the bank of love as it were. The alienation she feels at home in her neighbourhood is as potent as the alienation she feels shoved in the spotlight of America’s affluent. As she finds her place in one, she finds her place in the world by realising that winning is an important goal to have but having the courage to try is the real achievement.

Something admirable about writer-director Doug Atchison’s pitch in crafting these social issues is that he doesn’t raise class prejudices and racial stereotypes onto the pulpit but never waters down the issues by blatantly whitewashing it. He reinforces these stereotypes by lighting dapping them with observations and pragmatism but never creates caricatures of them. The formidable Fishburne and Bassett team seen in “Boyz n the Hood” and “What’s Love Got To Do With It” still exudes the intensity we’ve come to realise from the pairing. As the two central parental figures in Akeelah’s life, they tear her down with their demons and prop her back up with their better angels. Keke Palmer must have given the best performance by a youngster this year with Akeelah. She upstages her more magnetic co-stars with erudite resilience having carried the entire film on her deceptively scrawny shoulders. She makes this film a testament to the potential of adolescents.

An unapologetically schmaltzy affair, “Akeelah and the Bee” is a film about messages. It’s a homily about shaking free the shackles of apprehension through knowledge. By showing the willingness of people who want to change and see the potential that they’ve lost in those around them, it’s ultimately about forgiving the misgivings of others and most importantly forgiving one’s self. As far as “feel good” movies go, this one is a definite keeper and is definitely one of my favourites this year. I-n-d-u-b-i-t-a-b-l-y.

Rating: 4 out of 5

2006-10-02T00:20:00.000+08:00

Shall We Dansu? (1996) (Masayuki Suo)

With a deft sleight of hand, Masayuki Suo infuses comedy, romance and criticism of Japanese conservatism into the foreign world of ballroom dancing in the land of the rising sun. Treated with suspicion, this form of dancing carries with it a certain sense of shame, like online dating or personal ads. As if finding himself in a seedy part of town, our protagonist, Sugiyama (Kôji Yakusho), looks left and right while covering the best part of his face with the requisite nippon salaryman manila folder before heading up the stairs to continue his lessons. We're not to realise his motivations until he does as he reminisces his first urge to seek out a change and battle his midlife demons.

Just as every other day he takes the train home, where he gets on his bicycle and rides back to his newly bought house, complete with the large mortgage, the homely wife and cherished teenage daughter. One day, after a boring after-work dinner with his colleagues he first takes note of a beautiful young woman, staring out the window of a dance studio. Sugiyama takes the train each day after that, pondering why that woman's mirthless expression haunts him so. He decides reluctantly to join up after his wife tells him that he doesn't go out enough. Even with her unknowing encouragement, he keeps his past time a secret from his family as he joins a beginner group consisting of a loudmouth with good intentions, an overweight man finding some self-esteem and a kindly seasoned pro who teaches them the heart and soul of ballroom dancing.

He keeps an eye on the beautiful, sorrowful woman, Mai who harbours her own set of problems. At first staying out of Mai's way, Sugiyama grows more confident with his repertoire of moves and starts to become attached to the dance as Mai silently takes interest.

This is a story of characters, each with their own history and reasons for taking up the dance. Some noble, while some, not so much. But what's constant is their burgeoning passion for what they do, while staying in the periphery of society's glare. Sugiyama is a tacit individual who holds his fears, insecurities and inhibitions close to his heart. His family, although the most important things to him are mere ideals and goals that he has achieved in his life as a Japanese working man. Without any more goals to look towards, he finds more than he bargained for when he embarked on deciphering Mai's secret grief.

With a happy ending, comedy with its supporting characters and numerous subplots, its a light and underplayed (but not without some measure of stinging depth) look at the heavy upheavals of life's tedious banalities and doldrums. Showing how unbalanced we might be with monotony, trust and loyalty are always key virtues in succeeding in our newer endeavours.

Rating: 3½ out of 5

2006-10-02T00:13:00.000+08:00

La Luna (1979) (Bernardo Bertolucci)

There's some really heavy themes in this, most notably and controversially incest between the mother, an opera singer (the whole movie is quite operatic in the setting of Rome) and her son, a teenager slowly being sucked into a world of drugs as he slips away from his mother. It doesn't cross the line all the way, instead hovers back and forth between a loss they've shared and a promise of being together at any means, albeit not in the conventional sense.

Lovely, epic music lacquers the scenery and intensity between the parent, who finds it a duty to be closer to the son thats torn between guilt and anger. Note though, that the physical incest is not as strong as the theme of emotional incest, which is usually the more pervasive of the two. It's main focus seems to be the mending of a mother-son relationship when both mother and son are wrecks to begin with. This film is quite the rarity. I bought my DVD at a garage sale. Might be Italian though, the wordings' are a bit wrecked on mine, but a splendid cover art, it's why I even noticed it underneath a clutter.

It's quite a heavy subject matter to tackle, plenty for the psychoanalytical of us to ponder over. Quite typical of Bertolucci to polarise his viewers. I would agree that the film is a task especially its beginning but its fruitful with much symmetry composing the parent/child relationship regarding the inexplicable quandaries of love and sexuality. Oedipal complexities are never fully explored physically thankfully, it doesn't go the distance like "Spanking the Monkey" did but what isn't shown is much more primal and imperative than what is shown. I've read many stinging criticisms of the film and its incomparable director of trying to shock his way through the auds. But I honestly am too blind or refractory for lack of a better word to subscribe to that.

Bertolucci has a fond place in my heart. As simple as this sounds, he makes films that are memorable and have something to tell us - usually about politics and human sexuality. This film is one of his earlier works and its absolutely gorgeous. Speaking of gorgeous, Jill Clayburgh shows why she's so unsung, in this she plays a woman who's so respected to everyone but yet in shambles inside. I would love to see her in more and thank god I now have something to supplant her as Ally Mcbeal's mom.

Rating: 3½ out of 5

2006-10-01T14:49:00.000+08:00

Brokeback Mountain (2005) (Ang Lee)

It’s easy to be superficial about a movie such as Brokeback Mountain, a film adapted by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana from Annie Proulx’s 1997 short story. Its content draws mixed reactions from every generation and social strata, all carrying weighty and complex opinions. Branding this film as just another gay-themed movie that Hollywood churned out would be downright ignorant. Its final act forces us to consider that the backdrop of homophobia being unavoidable is as potent a notion as the film’s statement of unconditional love being unrealisable.

Although far from being a trailblazer in its controversial content, this is one of the most important love stories told for the past 3 decades, and refreshingly, it is not left to European arthouse cinema this time. This taboo topic was earlier breached in 1969’s acclaimed Midnight Cowboy with its original rating of X and 1992’s Oscar nominated The Crying Game that sparked a furore among censors and critics for its then shocking twist.

Fast forward to this year’s celebrated alternative cinema offerings such as Transamerica (winning Felicity Huff an Oscar nod), Breakfast on Pluto (Cillian Murphy, from Batman Begins was exceptional as a out-of-touch transvestite) and the underrated comedic film-noir, Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. All will be screened in Singapore in the coming weeks, hot on the heels of the Oscars.

This movie defines the year’s cultural zeitgeist, a year riddled with polemising gay rights issues and the ensuing fallout of not being taken seriously enough. The majority of moviegoers deal with it by cracking jokes and nervous laughter while discussing the film’s merits, evident by America’s late-night comics using it as fodder in their tired comedy routines. It has galvanised the gay community so strongly that a movie critic, Gene Shalit was condemned by gay rights activists for referring to 1 of the main characters as a “sexual predator” during his review. Has any review of any other movies drawn such a fierce response for its assessment of a character?

Celluloid romances and rugged Western terrains complete with cowboys have never appealed to me, even as 2 separate genres. Although appreciative of both genres’ successes and appeal, I’ve always seen them as a byproduct of heightened cinematic sentimentality and gasconading bravado of its masculine characters. With Brokeback Mountain’s immense buzz and hyped up performances of its leads coupled with 8 Oscar nominations, I was inclined to think, before watching the film that its publicity machine was merely working overtime. I was wrong.

During the summer of 1963, 2 men discover their futures in Brokeback Mountain, Wyoming. It’s where they met and it’s where they found themselves. At the tender age of 19, Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are paired up by Joe Aguirre (Randy Quaid) to herd his sheep through Brokeback Mountain to market. It slowly starts as a friendship established on a mutual understanding of making their way through the hardships of their world, but somewhere along the way things became complicated. A cold rainy day forces the 2 cowboys to shack up in a single tent, which leads to the first unflinching expression of their attraction. As both cowpokes leave the mountain early, they ambivalently acknowledge their burgeoning affection for each other.

These first 30 minutes gave us the incredibly subtle courtship rituals between the 2 sheepherders as their attraction starts to simmer with the furtive glances while their macho swagger turns into amorous endearment. Even while we knew what was about to transpire, it is all the more important for us to realise why both men needed each other.

It was definitely an affair to remember, complete with the obligatory first full-fledged, if brief, sex scene, accompanied by several moments of ardent, soulful stares and a final self-sacrificing moment in which Jack drives away from the love of his life. Those well-wrought scenes built the foundation of the remaining film by arresting our attention to the untouchable desire Ennis and Jack feel during the long droughts in their romance.

The cowboy that initially reveals his advances first did not necessarily make it as clear-cut as we would have liked. It is often said that men have sex first, and then they fall in love later. The film keeps us wondering even on the way home or as we brush our teeth, about which of the 2 men fell in love first and what might have been if they had consolidated their relationship before they complicated it.

The film’s second act continues with the men moving on with their lives during the next 4 years by marrying wives (Michelle Williams and Anne Hathaway) and siring children. A fateful postcard from Jack sets off an illicit affair between them for the next 20 years under guises of fishing and business trips while their marriages and relationships with women falter and fail. Their preferred hideaway remains Brokeback Mountain.

The titular location is stupendously photographed, and its majestic panorama fits in well with director Ang Lee’s delicate tact in creating a gentle coupling of lonely spirits instead of a raunchy flaying of clothes and assembly of limbs. A singular guitar chord manages to invoke the sharp pang of hurt and empathy for the unrequited lovers each time another obstacle is thrown their way. Nothing is done just to simply elicit emotions as each action is presented as pure and unbridled. The interactions between the 2 leads are always sensitive, and never unnatural or overly sappy.

Compassionate and provocative over the bleak landscape of Wyoming (except that it’s really Canada) and the deafening sound of silence, Ennis and Jack treasure their solitude as much as they dread hiding themselves from the world. The idea of 2 lost souls connecting, exploring each other’s truths is common, yet its subtext is usually only explored on a physical level. However, with Lee’s interpretation of the 2 men’s initial ambivalence towards their feelings and resulting wrong turns while traversing through their sham lives is clearly evident through his 2 wholly convincing male leads.

Ennis is a closed-off, stoic rancher who’s torn between the love of his life and his idea of continuing traditional romances with different woman to avoid acknowledging his homosexuality. Ledger is note perfect as he delivers a thoughtful and true performance in each scene. He hermetically seals himself in his character’s turmoil by giving an incredibly nuanced portrayal of a torn human being. It stays remarkably restrained and through his implicit reactions, shows the true introvert Ennis is, even as the closet gets too small for him to hide in.

With a runtime of just over 2 hours, the movie will start to nag at and bore through those that didn’t start watching it with an open mind. Its patient and deliberate pacing involves us at every juncture, but its apex lies in its rapturous opening scenes and its scenes set in Brokeback with Ennis and Jack. Nothing else in the movie manages to approach its untainted exploration of each cowboy’s emotional states when they are together. Perhaps that’s the film’s sole limitation when it fails to transcend the inescapability of both men’s magnetising screen presence or maybe it’s the film’s strongest aspect as we’re drawn to their devotion to each other while constantly peppering us with the realisation of a possible unhappy ending.

It’s a story about the cowboys’ future, not their past as we hardly get a glimpse of their lives before that fateful day at Joe’s except for references of childhood experiences. We follow them through their tumultuous marriages and the self-destructive decisions they make. Their romance becomes a quicksand that they struggle in as they consider their homosexual relationship for the rest of their lives. It pulls no punches, literally, as their onscreen romance plays out as real and ugly as the emotions they feel.

The women in their lives play an auxiliary part, plastering over the cracks in the men’s agonised souls. Their love for the men may have been transient but not the impact they had in their husbands’ lives. Williams gives her all in her role as the long-suffering wife of Ennis. In a tableaux set in a kitchen, she fires off her frustrations in an intense scene that all but seals her Oscar nomination and puts her as the front-runner at this year’s awards.

Both Ennis and Jack are 2 of the most memorable characters in cinema this year. While it’s lauded as one of the greatest love stories ever told, its distinctive gay themed romance is made even more laudable when it stretches beyond our intrinsic societal boundaries and tremblingly touches our hearts with its unifying resonance.

Rating: 4 ½ out of 5

2006-09-30T23:34:00.000+08:00

The Constant Gardener (2005) (Fernando Meirelles)

The Constant Gardener is a sophisticated political thriller adapted from John Le Carre’s novel of the same name. It’s a thought-provoking look into the African situation that we’re guilty of trying to keep out of mind and out of sight. This conspiracy-thriller-cum-love-story follows a British diplomat in Kenya, Justin Quayle (Ralph Fiennes) as he challenges all odds to find out why his wife, Tessa (Rachel Weisz) was murdered on a dusty trail in East Africa.

The film starts with the end of Tessa’s journey, as her mutilated body is identified at a morgue in Kenya. The shock of his wife’s death and alleged infidelity with a black doctor sends Justin spiraling. Faced with a prima facie case of a crime of passion between 2 lovers, investigators back off from digging into Tessa’s work with impoverished Kenyans and her concern in a pharmaceutical company’s apparent humanitarian efforts.

Upon discovering illicit letters hidden away by Tessa, Justin is jolted into investigating the last few weeks prior to his wife’s death. Like a robot, Justin reprogrammes himself from a mild mannered diplomat to a resolute man, driven by anger and his increasing doubts about the circumstances of his wife’s murder that are being fed to him by his superiors. He embarks on a quest spanning Europe and back to the ends of the African continent.

Justin is increasingly uncomfortable with Tessa’s relationship with her confidant, Arnold Bluhm (Hubert Koundé), the black doctor with whom she shares her idealism and humanitarian efforts. This develops the suspense by showing us sequences that Justin wasn’t privy to. As the film leads Justin down the wrong paths, it also builds immediate empathy for the increasingly well-rounded character.

Justin’s odyssey for answers forces him to look through the eyes of Tessa. He continues what she had started with her fervent efforts to aid the indigent natives, to search out clues, overcome dead-ends and weed out the red herrings. It compels his change to a reckless and ingenuous man on the precipice of a breakdown from his increasing paranoia. The discovery phase of conspiracy and the players in the film urge the momentum to gallop through to Fiennes’s best performance this year (including his turn as a blind diplomat in The White Countess that is still being shown in cinemas sparingly).

Fiennes, although receiving fewer nominations than Weisz in various prestigious film awards (especially Weisz’s nomination for Best Supporting Actress in this year’s Oscars), overwhelms Weisz’s performance. His stark portrayal of a detached and pragmatic bureaucrat that becomes a driven and angry man in search of the truth is pitted against Weisz’s Tessa, a hothead radical who strikes out at the world’s injustices with wild abandon and indiscretions.

The metaphor of Justin’s hobby, gardening, is used to describe his delicate personality. A “world without weeds” as Tessa puts it, is his way of keeping things perfect and controlled in his world, something that Tessa’s report on pharmaceutical drug testing in Africa turns upside down.

It’s another feather in the cap for Focus Features and director, Fernando Meirelles after his sensational epic, City of God, which dealt with poverty and limiting environments that have stayed unseen from a bourgeois perspective. This film fits like a glove for his style of invoking sympathy and guilt for the surrounding that the characters have to immerse themselves in during their pursuit for truth.

The handheld style of shots put us straight into its colourful ambience and emotional state of its characters. Its fantastic cinematography in Kenya makes this one of the most arresting tourist-films this year as we are transported to lands many of us dare not find ourselves in. The visual palette represents the anarchy and bedlam in the northeastern regions of Africa. An inspired decision that heightens every nuance and emotion felt each time a sliver of information about Tessa’s death is released.

The soundtrack by Alberto Iglesias (again nominated at this year’s Oscars) is haunting and rapturous, ranging from the celebratory to the sombre. The rich and layered native music of the African region is scattered throughout scenes that supplements the film’s hard-hitting imagery.

The editing work is one of the finest I’ve seen (no wonder it was nominated for Best Editing at this year’s Oscars) as the story constantly switches from past to the present. Its grim portrayal of Tessa’s and Justin’s future in the opening scenes makes the rare moments of joyful bliss in Justin’s memories become a bittersweet experience as we question their commitment to each other and their eventual fate.

Was he now or was he ever Tessa’s one true love? Or perhaps, he is just a victim of a callous woman set in her wild ways after the whirlwind romance that they shared was prematurely hampered by the tedium of marriage. Besides the questions that run through our minds, the one true constant in the film is the love that Justin feels for Tessa throughout the meandering and disjointed narrative.

The enigmatic structure of the novel was kept as it exposes a riveting and unfiltered view of a man’s transformation into an avenging angel. Justin travels from country to country with a fake passport as he undertakes in cloak and dagger activities that result in him getting threatening messages left in his hotel room. Like a page out of James Ellroy and L.A. Confidential, Justin’s journey for truth is so banal that it ends up full of character. It’s operatic in style as passion and intrigue from its twists plays a pivotal part in the story. Characters are not as they appear to be, as through flashbacks and episodic revelations, we begin to inch closer to the truth.

The film’s thriller aspect, although well done is dwarfed by the story’s intrinsic need to reveal a greater truth than what happened to Tessa. It wants to show us a deeper and cutting view of life in Africa, one that we have heard about but never really wanted to know about. It wears its heart on its sleeve, as we need not question its motives of creating awareness in the region. The resonance of the story hits home with Meirelles’s sleight in creating an indomitable spirit within the Africans, while we are sucked into a maelstrom of unsettling actualities.

Its wildly determined efforts prod us to change and look at the smaller picture from a different point of view. It's a draconian, austere and verite document of greed and suffering. It’s not just an African problem but also a human problem that we face. The truths it discloses are retching, always dreary with no sign of optimism in the horizon.

The post-colonial depiction of life in Kenya is striking, even if depressing. Extracting the story from Le Carre’s reservoir of political and socio-economic musings needed this film to have a highly literate and derivative dialogue that refuses to yield to the average moviegoer. However, the nature of Meirelles’s direction takes its cue from easily discernable shots of dying Africans and ravenous men in suits coupled with the top-drawer performances by its cast, making it a highly involving film.

Bureaucracy and responsible corporate governance are put under a microscope, its indifference and tolerance for the necessary evils are seen as the first step to more heinous and atrocious acts. Such as the reprehensible drug companies ravaging on the humanity and the freedom of unsuspecting Africans by offering insultingly little or nothing at all to Africans, setting a meagre price on their lives to further their profits in more ‘civilised’ nations. The corporation’s perceived vested interest in the plight of AIDS-afflicted Kenyans is nothing more than a con to exploit them as cheap labour and more effective guinea pigs for their new drugs.

It leaves us with an eager and hopeful but rather weighty issue of whether this film featuring the bleak outlook of life in Africa, or perhaps life in general would reach out to our better angels. Or will this just be another film where a shameful and lurid reality is exploited to be observed by audiences in armchairs for entertainment?

Elegantly crafting a love story set in the contemporary world of global politics, Le Carre’s insights of the machinations of those involved could be construed as conjecture, although there is clearly a significant measure of reality in his concerns about the influence of multinational corporations and their capacity to wield their clout mercilessly among political circles.

Despite a specious storyline and absence of pretence, it still harks true to real-life humanitarian violations that have taken place in Africa. Pharmaceutical giant, Pfizer once administered a dangerous drug in Nigeria to obtain licensing for it after a ban in other continents when it was found that it caused arthritis. The results of the drug testing have yet to be released.

Unfortunately the film left me cold and cynical, with the realisation that there is no end in sight for the horrors faced in Africa. Has the reality of a dispensable human life finally put fiction to the sword?

The true gravitas of the situation, masked behind the lush Sahara, hits you in the final scenes of the film. It runs the full gamut of emotions as you’re taken for a ride through grief then anger, and finally sheer horror. Not since Hotel Rwanda has a film kept me so emotionally invested in the lives of the characters and its resounding message – if you can help one person, that's better than not doing anything at all.

Visit the ConstantGardenerTrust.org to improve living conditions in Kenya's slums.

Rating: 4 out of 5

2006-09-30T19:24:00.000+08:00

The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005) (Scott Derrickson)

Exorcism. It screams at us from the posters, the trailers and even when whispered to us. That word single-handedly propelled this film’s entire marketing campaign as it gave us flashbacks to William Friedkin’s 1973 masterpiece, The Exorcist. Not since then has anyone attempted a legitimate claim to reignite this contentious style of psychological horror rooted in theology and faith. Last year’s Exorcist: The Beginning fell short as it became a farce to the already abused legacy of Friedkin’s original.

Realising the unmilked potential that lies beneath the mysticism of spiritual possession and its appeal to sceptics and believers, movie executives have come up with The Exorcism of Emily Rose.

Father Moore (Tom Wilkinson) is charged with negligent homicide after an unsuccessful exorcism on Emily Rose (Jennifer Carpenter) led to the 19-year-old’s death. His defense attorney, Erin Bruner (Laura Linney) is a career-driven, self-proclaimed agnostic who needs to play down the media hysteria over this case to secure a senior position in her law firm. As she delves further into the case, however, she starts to doubt her own beliefs and begins to fear what she never thought could exist. The film’s antagonist, Ethan Thomas (Campbell Scott), is the religiously devout district attorney, adamant that mental illness was the sole reason for Emily’s erratic behaviour in the weeks leading to her death. He is also convinced that the cause of her demise was brought about by Father Moore’s role in discontinuing Emily’s medication.

Jennifer Carpenter, whose most notable role before this film was in White Chicks as a spoilt rich girl, gives the strongest performance of the cast as the naïve young college freshman attacked by malevolent forces. She later transforms into a frenetically possessed girl tortured by something nobody is able to comprehend. The 180-degree turnaround playing the film’s titular character has even earned her a compliment from her accomplished co-star, Linney, who calls her the “finest young actress that she's ever known” in publicity interviews given shortly after the film’s release in the United States.

Billed as the first “courtroom horror” film by its director, Scott Derrickson, it certainly provides an interesting take on religion, the judicial system and psychology. Derrickson’s storytelling is convoluted at points as it switches between the past (through flashbacks of Emily’s possession and eventual death) and the present courtroom conflict.

Due to its narrative nature, the film constantly finds itself in 2 minds. From the first impressions of its Oscar-nominated cast of Linney and Wilkinson, it’s easy to see that the movie wants the viewer to take it seriously. Throwing in dashes of current social commentary such as the legality of the Church’s doctrines as a plausible defense without bordering on religious persecution is aptly highlighted during the current climate of polemicising over the government’s role in religion. Unfortunately, it offers more questions than answers for these contemporary matters.

However, the version we saw in the trailers is the archetypal summer horror blockbuster that uses cheap shocks and clichéd scare tactics like cryptic clocks, loud screeching wails when cutting to ghoul-faced shots, and sourceless winds blowing doors wide open. Subplots, such as Father Moore’s and Erin’s own uninspired haunting by these evil spirits as they work on the case, are scattered throughout the film. Regrettably, the film falls into temptation by using such schtick to get its point across as the danger in combining 2 different genres together with 2 different pacing leads to a classic case of doing too much with too little time.

The failure to give more insight into the main characters also cheapens the roles as we never fully understand Erin’s own initial prejudice against spirituality or even Emily Rose’s religious convictions as she is dragged into becoming the new Joan of Arc.

A series of dichotomous motifs are presented in the film, such as Good vs. Evil, Law vs. Religion, Sceptics vs. Believers etc. Given the wealth of material in which the film could have chosen to make a stand, it manages to completely disregard them in its conclusion by short-changing itself and the viewers. In hoping to please everybody, it ends up satisfying no one.

The Exorcism of Emily Rose can’t be called a bad film by any means. In many aspects, it is a solid movie; with good acting throughout, and with enough restraint to prevent it from going over the top. Hardly reaching the pinnacles of The Exorcist, its “true story” label seems to have been stuck on to achieve some sense of credibility.

It is however, a welcome addition to a horror market that’s flooded with mediocre Japanese and Korean movies and predictable Hollywood fare. When not taken seriously, it will entertain you enough for the night but those hoping to be perplexed by its spiritual connotations will have to wait for a worthy successor to The Exorcist.

Rating: 3 out of 5

2006-09-30T08:02:00.000+08:00

Boy Eats Girl (2005) (Stephen Bradley)

Part satire and part romantic-comedy, Boy Eats Girl should be looked upon as a homage to the classic 70s horror genre and not a poor effort at recreating the success of Shaun of the Dead. Hailing from Ireland, the movie takes plenty of liberties in its character’s settings and mannerisms. Not wholly European as you’d expect, but it works on most levels, just not so much on the humour however.

Nathan (David Leon) is the heartbroken teenager who accidentally kills himself after making the mistake of witnessing the love of his young teenage life, Jessica (Irish pop sensation Samantha Mumba) in a compromising situation with his school’s Lothario. Nathan’s mother (Deirdre O'Kane) finds his lifeless body in his room and remembers the handy book of resurrection spells that she’d found just days earlier in the bowels of the church that she works at.

As easily as you can say beginner’s luck, she manages to bring back her son and gets him ready for the next day of school. Nathan starts to feel the effects of his zombification when he starts to feel impervious to pain and feels hungry all the time. His 2 pals, Henry and Diggs (Laurence Kinlan and Tadhg Murphy) who, at times, seem even less shiftless than their dead friend, get worried when they see Nathan’s disenchantment with Jessica vanish.

At the school disco, resident slut and girlfriend of the toughest jock in school, Cheryl (Sara James) propositions Nathan. Not exactly willing to do Nathan’s bidding, she ditches him. Unfortunately for Nathan, the jock boyfriend follows him as he stumbles on to the rugby pitch. Normally, this would be a cakewalk for bully-kind everywhere but Nathan’s newfound undead ability of super-strength makes it easy for him to overpower the jock. He finally gives in to temptation and takes a couple of deadly chunks out of him. Nathan runs home and is given the bare bones of his worsening condition by his mother who promptly locks him in the garage as she finds a cure. Things start to get a whole lot worse for him after last night’s attack starts a chain reaction of killings, each spawning a more vicious version of Nathan’s condition.

The plot ‘borrows’ heavily from a handful of movies, especially the 1993 cult classic, "My Boyfriend’s Back" with virtually the same sub-plot of unrequited love between the unfortunate undead and his high-school sweetheart. As most will use "Shaun of the Dead" as a touchstone in understanding the film’s comedy/gore tandem, it’s intended use of black comedy and detached humour falls short.

The backyard splatter that comes from fending off ravenous classmates and neighbours is refreshing to see and is done well. The violence and the reactions of the harried survivors are always tongue-in-cheek, which is satisfying, as the zombie horde never comes close to being scary, just downright silly. The flaying of skin and removal of limbs is a requisite in any good romp through a town full of undead. However, the gore starts off perfunctory, not exactly a good sign when it takes almost half the movie to get there.

As the film progresses to its climax, a visible shift in priorities takes place. Suddenly, the story stops and a zombie free-for-all takes place, courtesy of a pimped out tractor and surge of adrenaline from the heroine. As the movie is a relatively short enterprise, clocking in at about 77 minutes (including credits), it almost makes up for the lack of spilled blood and guts when the horror aspect of the film finally kicks in.

Most satires take themselves too seriously at some point and Boy Eats Girl is no different. The romance between Nathan and Jessica felt too overdone in the beginning, leading to the most controversial scene in the movie that initially got it banned in its native Ireland. The attempted suicide scene was clumsy and awkward; not exactly an endorsement for depressed teenagers everywhere.

The film starts out slow, working out the set-up of the eventual suicide that triggers the rest of the plot, leaving just a third of the movie for bona fide zombie mayhem. Each transition is disjointed and rushed, especially the weak example of a deus ex machina during the last minutes of the film.

The 1-dimensional characters and unresolved storylines are indicative of the apathetic acting and lack of fleshed-out character development. Mumba does not show any signs of being a tough female character in the beginning, making a transformation into the movie’s heroine seem out of character. Leon’s Nathan seems too self-aware and confident to pull off being the angst-ridden chump who finds it hard to bring up his true feelings around Jessica.

From start to end, its campy throwback to nonsensical horror-comedy masks its inability to find its feet and its problematic attempts at satire. Suffering from a painfully short running time and an overly brisk pacing at the end, "Boy Eats Girl" does not fulfill the potential it has. What it does achieve is a quick and harmless way to spend just over an hour when bored.

Rating: 2 out of 5

2006-09-30T05:06:00.000+08:00

An American Haunting (2005) (Courtney Solomon)

The Bell Witch is a legend based on true documents of the only case in US History where an entity caused the death of a man and a folklore that's still as strong today as it was back then. It's been the subject of various paranormal researchers and historians, some even swearing that they've seen the Bell Witch and her apparitions till this day.

An American Haunting encompasses 2 generations of families; although the Bell family in 1817 receives the most screen time than the contemporary portrayal that sets up the legend of the Bell Witch. With its predictable true story label slavishly tagged on to give it some smidgen of credibility. The family in the future, bookends the narration of the events that started the lore. It’s a tacky framing device that reeks of an anemic and frail script from creative abjection.

It's unfortunate that such a truly incredible and chilling tale of revenge, torture and evil has boiled down to what essentially is a PG weekend fright-flick intended to bring in young cineplexers as well as audiences willing to revel in a good ol' forgettable boogeyman story. Dousing us with Tennessee period atmosphere and commendable set designs, the heavy pretense bogs down its 2 most veteran thespians' talents with a tarnishing waft of self-importance.

Sissy Spacek and Donald Sutherland are John and Lucy Bell, in 1817 and proud parents of the marriageable Betsy Bell (Rachel Hurd-Wood) and the John Jr. (Thom Fell). They are the foci of the narrative, which constantly carries an air of portentous foreboding. Supporting characters include Richard Powell (James D'Arcy), suitor apparent to Betsy who solders onto the family as if he was already married to her.

The inconsistent characterisation of Sutherland's John Bell is a aching and sore point. To believe he was dishonest would be difficult due to his obvious endearment towards his family. His character goes through revolutions of character changes that's awkward and contrived to fit a scattered and disorganised screenplay that was trying to fit in as many documented 'accounts' of the Bells as possible. To his credit, the mileage of the film's many supernatural vivacities is bitterly shown on Sutherland's final diminutive state. Spacek plays an impassive role, the rangering the family as both her husband and daughter are slowly and cruelly abused. Second fiddle to Sutherland, she plays it the best she can with intense and covert glances of feeble moroseness.

The chemistry between the Richard and Betsy, non-existent as it is, still plays an important part in understanding the dynamics of those trapped in the house with a vengeful spirit. He is her sole comfort. Richard, who's also Betsy's teacher portrays an underlying pride in his intellect and belief in science. It's the first time his knowledge of the world has failed him, as he sees his betrothed, be thrown about like a rag doll as the spirit habitually targets and possesses her nightly. She's burdened with the brunt of the spirit's unexplained but undeniable fury.

There's a distinct lack of progress in the film. Running scare-gags include, creaking floorboards, unnatural convulsions and physical abuse by the 'affected' and now-you-see-it, now-you-don't visual devices. It becomes obvious halfway through the film that the director has no clue on how to sustain the tense moments that he begins to stage, usually with the help of a loud sound. All in all, its a sad attempt to imitate a similarly themed "The Exorcism of Emily Rose", which actually had depth and a deft touch beneath its well-worn exterior

Although much is said about the theories bandied about the Bell Witch's true intentions with the Bell family, no one has conclusively stated who and why the entity haunted them. Most of the theories are conjecture and flippant suppositions. And that’s the film's biggest flaw. It's final reveal is so aggravating anticlimactic and flimsy, it's not going to please or placate anyone who wanted something minutely plausible that's analogous with an actual horror story. It's not something that needed condescending social commentary.

Rating: 2 out of 5

2006-09-29T21:29:00.000+08:00

Broken Flowers (2005) (Jim Jarmusch)

Broken Flowers is celebrated indie auteur Jim Jarmusch’s latest offering since last year’s collection of personal vignettes, Coffee and Cigarettes. As writer-director of his most commercial film to date, this offbeat dramedy promises to encompass everything we’ve come to expect from Jarmusch and his idiosyncratic views on growth, adult relationships and life.

Don Johnston (Bill Murray) is a jaded and aging Lothario residing in a quiet suburban neighbourhood with his girlfriend (Julie Delpy) during his retirement. Unfortunately for him, he receives a distinctively pink letter on the same day that his girlfriend leaves him. That letter alludes to a 19-year-old son who’s looking for him. Unsigned and with no discernable characteristics, the note leaves him to ponder which of the women he had slept with 20 years ago is the mother of his bastard son. His best friend, Winston (Jeffrey Wright) who moonlights as an amateur sleuth urges the ambivalent Don to track down the series of women scattered throughout the country to find out which of them sent the pink letter.

The 4 former flames are introduced chronologically as Don tracks them down, without any prior notice, in his rented car. The first of these is a single mum of a promiscuous teen aptly named Lolita (Alexis Dziena). The mother (Sharon Stone) is a lonely widow of a NASCAR driver who shows surprising appreciation for Don’s unexpected visit. Satisfied that she wasn’t the person he was looking for, he drives cross-country to visit the next woman on his list played by Frances Conroy (from Six Feet Under), She is a stark contrast to the previous woman, giving us a glimpse into the type of women that Don has had encounters with in the past. After a brief dinner with her and her husband, Don quickly moves on to the next flame as he starts losing hope.

Jessica Lange plays the penultimate person on the list compiled by Winston. As a successful animal communicator, her scenes provide some of the most awkward and amusing moments in the film such as her cat, Winston that manages to understand Lange’s character. As Don is left without answers once again, he hopelessly makes his way to meet the final woman, a biker chick (icy star of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch & the Wardrobe, Tilda Swinton). This encounter proves to be the most intriguing as unlike the rest of his ex-girlfriends, his break-up with her was acrimonious and he isn’t greeted as amiably as he hopes.

Each fascinating reunion offers up subtle hints to each relationship’s failure and the lives these women now lead. During these visits, Don keeps a watchful eye for details that could establish the link with the letter he received. Several red herrings are thrown in to keep a sense of mystery throughout the film, but the real hints come from the understated interactions that Don has with these women.

Masquerading as a film about finding somebody, it’s actually an exploration of one’s self and is very much a character study of a despondent Don Juan figure who has not made any attempt to reconnect to a life he once had. Don is a stoic and unflinching witness to his own life as he begins his search with quiet enthusiasm. Through the opening scenes, it’s quickly discernable that he is going through the motions in his life as we see him in his track suit in front of the television, oblivious and unfazed by his girlfriend leaving him. Realising his predicament, he tries to rewrite the last few decades of his life though a singular road trip down memory lane and finds out that he might just be the only person in his life that is still stuck in neutral.

With Bill Murray in mind, Jarmusch has created an extremely humane and sympathetic character that becomes more involving as the film goes on. Maximising Murray’s talents for minimising and underplaying his characters, Don’s reserved demeanour and unexpressive persona is excellently portrayed with remarkable restraint by the actor. He sports a deadpan countenance that looks like he has been nursing a perpetual hangover and only through the rare occasions of laconic inflection and brief expressions through his doleful eyes do we see the full scope of his melancholy.

Even as a character study, the film’s supporting characters are well-defined. Particularly, Winston played by the vastly underrated Jeffrey Wright who most notably played a gay New Yorker in the 80s closely connected to the AIDS epidemic of the time in HBO’s Angels in America. This time around, he is a first-generation Ethiopian immigrant who works 3 jobs and still pursues his passion and zest for detective work. The most important aspect of his character is that he is a staunch family man with a loving wife and 5 kids. It provides an interesting perspective for Don as his friendship with Winston is a constant reminder for him to see what could have been. Don looks to him to reflect his own inadequacies due to his wanton relationships with women.

Although the 4 women introduced are distinctive and have their own voices, the writing does tend to steer towards stereotypes. For example, Frances Conroy’s unhappy realtor seemingly stuck in a loveless marriage harks back to American Beauty or Tilda Swinton’s abrasive redneck character that ends up getting Don socked in the eye. Through Jarmusch’s episodic style of narrative, each encounter does not precede anything more than what’s on view and we are left with incomplete shards of characters that don’t transcend its clichés.

Although Jarmusch’s least strident film, it probably has the most anti-climatic ending in recent history, which should potentially infuriate or delight audiences. The ending rams home the film’s primary message of appreciating the journey more than the destination. In a person's life, opportunities arise to offer somebody a chance to find out and define who they are or who they want to be. Combining Bill Murray’s tremendous acting chops with a formidable female cast has demonstrated a masterstroke from its director and this is 1 of the better movies this year. Don’t leave the cinema too early as the credits offer a fantastic insight into the ending.

Rating: 4 out of 5

2006-09-27T18:56:00.000+08:00

Hostel (2005) (Eli Roth)

Lions Gate Films, a Canadian based subsidiary of Lions Gate Entertainment, is getting quite the reputation of producing and distributing low-budget blockbusters for the North American audience as well as for the overseas market. Its knack of taking educated risks with controversial films has paid off handsomely. Most recently, Crash won Best Picture at the Oscars, adding to its many other accolades. Among some of Lions Gate’s other films are the Saw franchise. Reigniting audience’s craving for copious sanguinary fury, the film pushed boundaries in acceptable violence in even R-rated feature releases.

Now, a similarly themed film has been released in Hostel, a Quentin Tarantino signature film. The US$5 million production has gone on to make over US$60 million in its domestic box office (prior to DVD sales), while debuting at No. 1 in a crowded and heavily vied January period. To put its appeal into perspective, Hostel debuted at the top spot in the box office while out-earning both Chronicles of Narnia and King Kong. Both movies had a total budget that was 100 times the amount Hostel was made on.

The plot plays out like an urban legend told to ward off youths from succumbing to debauchery and misogyny. 3 young men travel to red-light districts in Europe with the simple intentions of anonymous sexcapades and rampant drug use. 2 of these men are obnoxious American fratboys and the other, an Icelandic lout named Oli (Eythor Gudjonsson) whose insufferable attitude towards the opposite sex pays off more often than not. They jump from brothel to nightclub sowing their wild oats. Their foray into decadence takes a turn for the worst when they get locked out of their hostel after a wild night in Amsterdam.

While finding a way to safe quarters, they happen upon a local who tells them of a hostel in Eastern Europe with the cheapest, easiest and most beautiful girls from all over the continent who go crazy for Americans. This promise land lies in Bratislava, Slovakia. En route, they meet a Dutch businessman (Jan Vlasák) who also regales them with stories about the girls and the assured depravity that abounds in Slovakia. Imagine a much more explicit version of Eurotrip without the comedy or the likable characters and you’ll be able to picture the film’s first act.

Sufficiently enticed they make their way to the hostel that houses their every fantasy. Just as soon as they are greeted with nudity, sex and alcohol, things start to go wrong when Oli disappears. Both Paxton (Jay Hernandez) and Josh (Derek Richardson) are left dumbfounded by his abrupt departure as they are led to believe. As they solemnly party on their final night, they are separated and Paxton finds himself alone. He makes his way through town, alone and very far away from California.

After tracking down his date from the night before, he is led to a huge compound where he finds the Dutch businessman sewing up Josh’s torso. He’s then forcibly handcuffed to a chair and wakes up unconscious in a room. A hesitant man with a chainsaw stands over him and in a series of comedic errors, Paxton loses 2 fingers but gains his freedom from the room. As he makes his way out of the veritable abattoir while being chased by burly bodyguards, he slowly realises that he’s caught up in something more deviant and sinister than just murders. The compound is a business run by a charnel group of mobsters that’s catered to wealthy foreign tourists who participate in torture and snuff rituals with kidnapped victims.

Any film carrying Quentin Tarantino’s imprimatur is not to be taken lightly and not to be overlooked when it appears no less than 5 times in the credits. His recent and most mainstream films, Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 as well as earlier classics such as Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction redefined executions and torture situations for the modern audience. A stamp of approval from Tarantino demands overly wrought death scenes and plenty of cosmetic blood spurting from dangling limps. Although popular, they bear the nebulous distinction among some critics of popularising tasteless substance wrapped within stylised gloss.

However, the real mastermind of Hostel is writer-director, Eli Roth. His previous film, Cabin Fever was the highest earning horror movie of 2002. Roth’s penchant for horror and violence had Premiere Magazine calling him “the future of horror”. Slowly fulfilling that promise, Roth has followed up from his auspicious debut and has crafted Hostel into an unhinged showcase of gore and suspense that’s refreshing and actually quite scary. The matter-of-fact disemboweling and unflinching looks at newly made crevices in a human body is typical of the man. The graphic expulsion of fluids after the vivisecting and eviscerating of body parts is just part of his charm.

Roth unquestionably refuses to compromise as he finds unique and unapologetic ways to torture his characters while digging through their exterior shell (quite literally in some scenes) and into their inner psyche of fear and helplessness. It borders on Roth’s unstated objective of pushing boundaries and forcing a reaction from his audience when a scene reaches its gruesome payoff.

Quite possibly an indictment on humanity’s venal nature, we see dirty cops turning away from the ‘house of horrors’, locals leading unsuspecting backpackers into certain doom and most prominently, bored and wealthy men that relinquish both money and their conscience to act out their sadistic fantasies. Perhaps it also points to xenophobia and cultural elitism when we see Americanism in all its arrogance through the parochial and over-sexed mentality of the leads towards the locals in the opening act. Maybe that’s why they fetched the highest price?

Although not as much a psychological horror flick, the 1-dimensional and unlikable characters presented never fully let’s us root for them even when sweet retribution is expectedly dished out to the men that murdered without distinction. Sure, we feel suspense and a sense of empathy when the backpackers face impending agony but that’s because nobody should have to be tortured in the manner depicted.

There are 2 great cameos in the film in a space of 5 minutes. Both are masters of horror and both inspirations as well as fans of Roth. In the bar scene when Paxton finds his date, a hardly recognisable Quentin Tarantino sits in front of her. For Asian horror enthusiasts, Takashi Miike plays a caricature of himself – an ardent patron of the slaughterhouse, when Paxton first reaches the compound. Not quite overt, but both cameos pay tribute to Roth’s inspiration for the film’s concept.

While pushing censors to their limits is commendable on its own merits, Hostel manages to inject valid subtexts, albeit flawed and mishandled. It lives up to early expectation of being 1 of the most visceral experiences in cinema for the past few years. Its premise is frighteningly plausible, as paralleled in films like 8MM where exploitation of desperate human beings for the rich and willing is kept hidden away from society.

Rating: 3 out of 5

2006-09-26T02:52:00.000+08:00

Joyeux Noël (2005) (Christian Carion)

There is nothing tinsel-cheery or laugh-out-loud funny about Merry Christmas, which is based on reports of a cease-fire on Christmas Eve of 1914 when World War I was being waged at the Western Front. Various German, French and British soldiers left their rifles in their trenches and franternised with each other in the spirit of Christmas. Unsubstantiated reports also document several other contingents of military personnel consorting with their foes during the Yuletide season. One of the more curious accounts of this truce even included references to a football match between these soldiers aside from the singing and mingling outside of their trenches where the fallen soldiers of the war still lay frozen and decayed.

Straight from writer-director Christian Carion’s own emotional attachment to World War I, which was cultivated as he had grown up in one of those German-occupied French territories where great battalions had met, this film pays homage to the soldiers and to their families that fought and experienced the ravages of the first Great War. It is also France’s official entry for the Foreign Language Film Oscar for 2006 when it opened domestically with 1 of the country’s best box-office openings in recent history.

Revolving around 7 main characters from different backgrounds and allegiances, the film makes these characters the representation of the soldiers of the nation that they hail from. Very much an ensemble cast, it consists of Diane Kruger, who plays a famous Danish soprano. She fights all odds to be in the frontlines with the one she loves, a German tenor (Benno Fürmann) who was called up when the war begun months ago. Rounding off the German camp is Lieutenant Horstmayer (Daniel Brühl), the man in-charge who’s rigid in his command of the trench. He’s an emblematic soldier who respects determination above all else. As most Christmas films demand, he becomes the character who goes through the biggest change as we discover his backstory and his ambivalence to the occupation of Paris.

Rounding of the rest of the main characters are the Scottish priest cum medic (Gary Lewis) who’s drafted along with the rest of his parish when war was declared; themerry christmas 2 company is led by Lieutenant Gordon (Alex Ferns). The French contingent includes Lieutenant Audebert, brilliantly portrayed by France’s leading actor, Guillaume Canet, and the Lieutenant’s orderly and the film’s main comic relief, Dany Boon.

The brainchild of Carion’s for almost 3 years after his debut success with The Girl from Paris, Merry Christmas manages to be as poignant in its description of camaraderie and love as it’s brutal in its dispiction of war’s effects in a soldier’s life and callous government officials who send young men with families off to war with no hesitation. This isn’t just a holiday movie that warms hearts to the sounds of the bagpipe or the soul-piercing allure of the opera, as the film doesn’t hold back in its criticisms of war and governments that participate in them. Throughout the movie, we see the injustice that soldiers are put through even by their superior officers. It’s made even more depressing when we see them finding solace and a momentary respite from the urgency of war in the company of their enemies.

Each element of Christmas is also represented through each of the nation that’s entrenched, seperated by a field of dead soldiers and a frozen mire of mud. Music is offered by the German camp through its opera singers, prayer and cheer is contributed by the Scots while the French extends their hand with, what else but, food, namely chocolates and champagne. An armistice is called as each commanding officer from the each ditch agrees to a 2-day cease-fire, agreeing that the war will not be won during Christmas. The gathering of the troops in no-man’s land where their dead lay and exploded shrapnel is scattered, doesn’t just end at the merriment of drinking as each soldier realises that they are no different from the adversaries they have been aiming at for months as they start exchanging addresses. The message is clear as we understand that the soldiers are fighting for something, not against something else.

Each character’s own insecurites about the war are revealed through conversations with one another as we find out that the tenor and soprano are at odds. The tenor feels obligated to stay with his regiment while she wants to run away with him to the Dutch border to start anew. We also see the French lieutenant’s anxiety about his pregnant wife and the Scottish priest’s struggles with his faith as his sees those around him fall with no mercy even from their superiors. Finally we see the ghosts of the past around them literally buried as graves are dug in unison for the fallen on Christmas morningmerry christmas 4

As aptly put by the Scots in the film, “The war can wait, but the war won’t wait for us”, the aftermath from the night’s festivities are cut short when the Germans’ paratoopers start dropping shells on enemy trenches. Fortunately, it’s a Christmas movie and we see each infantry unit taking turns in sheltering their respective nation’s targets in their own trench. However, this doesn’t end at the frontlines as each nation’s government and their superior officers discover this act through readings of personal letters. They label the events of the night as “high treason” among the troops and they deplore the lack of gravitas in the manner in which Christmas was celebrated. Each of the involved units is disbanded and each superior officer makes sure that there’s no love lost between troops as they are indoctrinated again on the subject of the evils of the enemy. The scene is similar to the movie’s opening when 3 boys of different nationalities recite the warcry of their nations in a classroom.

Guillaume Canet’s Audebert is the most sympathetic character in the entire film. When first introduced, he looks adoringly at his wife’s photograph just before leading his men into war. As he loses his wallet along with the photograph, he also loses his faith in the war and his drive for what he was fighting for. Wanting to know if he has a son or daughter, he finally manages to put his agony to rest through a favour from his German counterpart.

Although laced with ancillary moments of humour after the the film’s slow build-up to the frontlines, it borders on contrived and fantastical storytelling as the rapid change of heart and loathing for orders to stay vigilant are ignored. While it is a melodrama with a primary function to warm hearts during the holiday season, it’s also a war film which unfortunately pulls punches at the end to ensure a happy ending for most of its characters.

With French cinema serving up another movie set in the toils of war since last year’s A Very Long Engagement, and once again doing it superbly as the message it conveys will be clear for anyone from any country to recognise. This film will be a timeless addition to the holiday cinema fare. Even if the movie offends a few moviegoers who might see this as a grotesque misrepresentation of war, it does exactly the opposite as it pays tribute to the soldiers in 1914 that managed to carry out a miraculous act in that instance when sanity prevailed over the chaos of war.

Rating: 4 out of 5