Passion for Movies

Yellow Sea is the name given to northern part of the East China Sea that’s located between Korean peninsula and Chinese mainland. Joseon-jokis the name given by South Koreans (considered unfriendly) to the millions of ethnic Koreans living outside Korean peninsula in China as the citizens of People’s Republic of China. These people are alienated, who are mostly employed with hard labor jobs, both by their Chinese compatriots and South Koreans. From this standpoint, for the Joseon-jok people, the ‘Yellow Sea’ might be a symbol of alienation or hopelessness, as isolation close in on both sides of the shores. Korean film-maker Na Hong-jin’s second feature film “The Yellow Sea’s” (2010) protagonist is a Joseon-jok, who is discriminated, falsely incriminated and stabbed at. He brings out the hopelessness confronted by his people, but “Yellow Sea” isn’t just a bittersweet film that tracks the livelihood of a persecuted immigrant; it’s an exhilarating and unbelievably coincidental action/thriller.

Director Na Hong-jin made his debut with the much-talked about serial killer thriller“The Chaser” (2008). The debut was regarded and equated with the works of Korean New Wave film-makers Park Chan-Wook, Bong Joon-Ho and Kim Jee-Won. So, it is very important to mention earlier that “The Yellow Sea” reaches the heights scaled by those modern Korean auteurs, although it bestows a frequently thrilling movie experience. The movie begins with the protagonist Gu Nam (Ha Jung-woo) squandering the little money he has earned the previous night as a taxi driver by playing mah-jong. He has had a lot of drinks and as he tries to sleep, couple of tough guys beat him up to pay off the debt that’s mounting up day-by-day. As the sleepless Gu Nam gets down to his taxi, he seems to have punched at the photo frame, where he and his wife are standing in their wedding attire.

We learn that Gu Nam has borrowed a lot of money for the visa to send his wife to South Korea, in hopes of getting a better job. But, it’s been six months since she has left Gu Nam and their little daughter. She hasn’t sent any money or even a letter regarding her whereabouts. Everyone from the wife’s father to debt collectors state that she has an affair with some South Korean. They say that it happens often with the woman traveling to Korean peninsula for a better life. Gu Nam’s mom also expresses her doubt about his wife: “her eyes are so slanted… They are split open like a vagina”. Gu Nam dreams about his wife having passionate sex with some stranger. During one of those bad gambling days, Gu Nam is insulted for his ethnicity and the consequent sight of his rage beholds the attention of a Korean gangster Myun (Kim Yun-seok). Next day, the loan sharks introduce Gu Nam to Myun, who promises to pay off all his debts for one simple job: to do a contract killing in Seoul.

Gu Nam is reluctant to accept the offer, but his wild visions of his wife’s alleged affair makes him to accept the job. The job also provides him the opportunity to search for his wife. Gu Nam makes his horrifying illegal journey in the clammy bowels of a fishing boat, along with other poor souls, to South Korea. Myun has given nearly two weeks to Gu Nam for the killing, and if he botches the plan or goes off the radar in Seoul, his daughter and elderly mother would be murdered. Gu Nam wanders through Seoul with his wife’s photograph and at the same time observes at his target like a secret agent. He selects a day for killing after detailed plans, but an incredible and deadly coincidental happening plunges our protagonist into a web of deceit & intrigue.

Although “The Yellow Sea” could be called off as an action/thriller, we can strongly associate the movie’s narrative and themes with that of sub-genres like ‘neo-Noir’ and ‘black comedy’. It also has the usual Korean ingredients and slick production values. Renowned critic Mr. Raghavendra (in his book “Directors Cut”) calls this familiar Korean ingredient as ‘casual brutality’. From Lee Chang-dong’s“Pepppermint Candy” to Kim Ki-duk’s “Pieta”, Korean protagonists and antagonists don’t neatly fit into the frameworks of their respective roles. Through their causal brutal nature and lack of compassion, they make us reassess their characteristics. Korean film-makers tend to heighten this inherent brutality, especially when they are approaching characters that are normally perceived as vicious ones by general public. Bong Joon-ho’s in-competitive main guy in “Memories of Murder” and Kim Jee-woon’s caved in hero of “I Saw the Devil” are some of the few examples, where this ‘casually brutal’ nature has an extraordinary, lacerating effect on the viewers. Director Na Hong-jin’s protagonist in his debut feature “The Chaser” is a pimp, a deeply flawed character. But, as the narrative progresses, we look through his flaws and root for his vicious attitude to catch the more deplorable serial killer, who is killing the prostitutes.

In the same vein, Gu Nam and Mr. Myun in “The Yellow Sea” are not likable characters. They are driven by rage and revenge, but their causal brutality becomes enthralling as we perceive the antics of bourgeois villains. Korean Neo-Noir’s that perfectly entrench this Korean ingredient not only changes viewers’ understanding of the blurred lines of good & evil, but also raises the bar of tension and excitement to the highest levels. Despite the characterization and performance of actors playing Gu Nam and Myun, “The Yellow Sea” never reaches the greatness of its predecessors, mainly because of its digressing script. At 157 minutes, the theatrical cut wavered a lot without clearly depicting the character motivations for a majority of running time. Hong-jin’s director’s cut (140 minutes) version was better, but still would leave the viewers scratching their head, trying to figure out the parties involved in the killing.

Director Hong-Jin deliberately leaves certain things with an air of ambiguity (the fate of Gu-Nam’s wife), but other muddled plot points couldn’t be related with ambiguity. Hong-jin starts the film spectacularly with Gu Nam, recalling his childhood memory of a rabid dog in his village. As Gu Nam finishes the brief story with the words‘Rabies is spreading’, we could guess at the callous and downbeat things that are going to happen in the narrative. The rage, fear and isolation of the protagonist works as a nice analogy to the event he recalls at first. Gu Nam's furious beatings, hard escapes and final fate reminisces us of the tale of rabid dog. On the other hand, the axe-wielding gangster part of Myun imbues a darkly comic nature to the film. His unbelievable escapades and the consequent reactions of his South Korean counterpart are offensively joyous parts. Most of the action sequences involving Myun are kept off-screen, mainly to enhance the black comedy elements.

Hong-jin may not have elegantly unfolded the multiple layers of lies, deceit and deception in the script, but he has certainly amplified the tension through the long chase & fight sequences (credibility is stretched in some of these sequences). The violence in some of these sequences is insanely brutal that all it makes us to do is chuckle at it. Despite its downbeat nature, the savagery is depicted in a slick manner, like the ones we often experience in a Tarantino movie. Another flaw with the film is that there are no notable female characters in the film (it was the same in movies like “Oldboy”, “A Bittersweet Life”, etc). The few females present are shown off as treasured objects, inciting all the bloodshed. Hong-jin might also have missed out a chance to depict the barbarous treatment of Joseon-juk– people with no homeland (although that image in the fishing boat, where the immigrants are huddled together, is very haunting).

“The Yellow Sea” (140 minutes) could have been a robust, contemplative, hard-edged piece of work, if only it had jettisoned its petty digressions. Nevertheless, it is an energetic, commercial thriller with ingenious set-pieces.

Trailer

The Yellow Sea aka Hwanghae -- IMDb

Brazilian writer/director Fernando Coimbra’s feature-film debut “A Wolf at the Door” (2013) opens on a scorching day, where Brazil’s iconic ‘Christ the Redeemer’ statue hovers like a mirage. Then, we see a shot of rattling trains running through the seamy city surroundings. These two opening shots establish that the film isn’t going to depict any alluring visions about Brazil. The blistering heat refers to the conflicts between the characters we are yet to familiarize with, which are going to reach a boiling point. The opening montage sequences ends up with a shot of a public telephone that’s shown as if it would ring anytime. This final shot is vital to the movie’s alleged thriller framework because we learn after few minutes into the movie that a child is kidnapped, although there are no ransom calls from a payphone demanding money.

“A Wolf at the Door” is a trenchant examination of adultery – its initial allure and the dangerous consequences. At its outset, the plot might seem akin to “Fatal Attraction” (1987). It even starts off like a Hollywood police procedural, but this Brazilian movie veers more into Michael Haneke territory or into the dominion of a Greek Tragedy than an American commercial flick. Sylvia (Fabiula Nascimento), the housewife after going through her routine works goes to pick her little daughter from the neighborhood kindergarten. The teacher/owner greets her and says you have just missed her. When Sylvia furiously asks how she could let out the child before her arrival, the teacher claims that Sylvia herself called her to say that a neighbor named ‘Sheila’ would come to collect the girl. Sylvia, of course, never called the teacher. She goes to the police stating that it must be some kind of mistake because they are just a middle-class family with little money.

The teacher asserts that the child knew the alleged neighbor because she saw the child running gleefully to ‘Sheila’. Sylvia’s husband Bernardo (Milhelm Cortaz), who works at a bus depot, is called for and he immediately places his suspicion on a woman named Rosa (Leandra Leal). Bernardo has had an affair with the 25 year old Rosa and he also says to the police that Rosa has demanded to meet him that day at 7 pm in the train station. When Rosa doesn’t show up at the station, the police go to her home and bring in investigation. Initially, she denies any involvement, but after the teacher’s positive identification, Rosa accepts that she picked up the child, but only due to the threatening commands of ‘Betty’. Rosa tells the police that Betty is the girlfriend of Sylvia’s secret lover and that she has given the child to Betty.

The initial portions of “A Wolf at the Door” immediately brought to mind Anurag Kashyap’s “Ugly” (which might have been filmed at the same time as this movie). Although both the movies provide an incisive commentary on adultery, egotism and parental negligence (children in these movies were used as pawns by the adult characters), Fernando Coimbra doesn’t take up with Kashyap’s black comedy approach. After the initial promise of a thriller, Coimbra’s film at a certain point starts moving like a straightforward drama with a shocking final. The encounters between Rosa and Bernardo hinges on the framework of an erotic drama. However, these erotic sequences have no tenderness or affection. The animistic copulation reminisces us of the works from Paul Verheoven or Nicolas Roeg. The anxiety of cheating consumes Bernardo more than Rosa’s beauty.

Spoilers Ahead

The dangerous possessiveness, bickering and haunting suspicions are the typical elements that hovers around infidelity drama. But, these elements have become time worn because it was used by countless soap operas and crummy novels. Nevertheless, if “Wolf at the Door” keeps us hooked till the end, it is because of director Coimbra’s unconventional sense of composition and due to the brilliant performances. The director is more interested in surveying the surroundings than simply move the narrative forward in a ceremonious manner. When Rosa visits Sylvia at her home, the shot is placed at a point so that we could observe the environment rather than the mundane conversation. Rosa’s impoverished home life and constricted relationship with her parents is depicted as subtly as possible and showcased the reason for her to cling to the naive romantic ideas. The camera for the most part remains motionless and these shots provide a lacerating effect, whenever a literal or psychological beating ensues.

Apart from the ending sequences, the most agitating confrontation in the film happens when Bernardo beats Rosa for meeting up with his wife. Just when we think that he is going to kiss Rosa, Bernardo gets rough and compels her to repeat the words: "I want you to fuck me for the rest of my life”. When she obliges with his command, he simply says: “Well, too bad” and leaves the room. The sequence is very much similar to emotional rape perpetrated by Willem Dafoe character in David Lynch’s “Wild at Heart”, but here we see Bernardo return to the room and reconciling with Rosa. This scene probably exhibits the explosive symbiotic relationship, for which the final stop could only be hell. Those who have expected a thematically & narrative-wise twisty thriller in the vein of “Prisoners” might be severely disappointed. Coimbra uses the word ‘thriller’ to lure us for presenting the inner turmoil of an unloved woman, who wants to override the social sanctions.

Eventually, this film could also be seen as a different version of ‘Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf’ folktale. Although, a wolf is a metaphor to indicate a family unit threatened by an outside force, the identity of the wolf in the film is a bit elusive. Rosa’s devastating final act makes her the titular wolf, but it is hard to forget the tactics of cruel Bernardo. It is also ironic how the family, especially Sylvia, has welcomed the wolf with open arms. Leandra Leal gives a sympathetic and enervating performance as Rosa. She vividly exhibits her characters’ sexual passion, romantic aspirations and outbursts. There’s not a single contrived reaction in Leal’s angst-filled portrayal of Rosa. Milhelm Cortaz gives a raw performance as Bernardo, unlike the Hollywood movie adulterers.

“A Wolf at the Door” (101 minutes) may not possess big twists for thriller aficionados, but those who have no qualms over looking through darkest inlets of human nature might be in for a intense movie experience. It is a punch-to-the-gut psychological study of a fragile woman.

Trailer

A Wolf at the Door aka O Lobo atras da Porta -- IMDb

At the beginning of French film-maker Mona Acache’sdirectorial debut, “The Hedgehog” (2009), we see a bespectacled 11 year old girl in a dark room, holding a torch in one hand and talking to her ever-present companion, a video camera. She states how rich her Parisian family is but doesn’t want to ‘head for the fishbowl, a world where adults bang like flies on the glass’. The girl‘s choice of words and metaphorical statements strongly suggest that she is a mature & intelligent girl. Nevertheless, the 11 year old finishes her brief speech by stating that the ‘fishbowl is definitely not for her’ and that she is going to end her life on 12^th birthday. Despite the onerous declaration by this pre-teen, something suggests us (may be the 11 year old reminds us of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s capricious character) that the film is going to be whimsical rather than a lamentable drama. Actually, “The Hedgehog” diffuses both the elements: a whimsical melodrama. It is deplorably contrived at few junctures and remarkably touching at others.

The movie is based on the best selling novel, “The Elegance of Hedgehog”, by French philosophy professor and novelist Muriel Barbery. Although, there might have been many changes between the novel and its adaptation, we can see that existentialism is one of the chief themes of the story. Paloma Josse (Garance Le Guillermic), the precocious girl we met in the first scene, is in fact burdened by her fairly standard, unremarkable rich life. She hates to exist in this world as an adult. Paloma’s father Paul (Wladimir Yordanoff) is a minister, who is either in a command mode or busy mode. Mother Solange (Anne Brochet) has been on therapy and takes anti-depressants for the last 10 years. She talks a lot with her plants than with Paloma and thinks that the little girl is the only ‘oddball’ in the family. Paloma has an elder sister, who is confronting her own teen angst and wants nothing to do with the 11 year old’s ruminations on life.

Paloma’s favorite pastime is to hide herself within the apartment complex and to observe her family’s (recorded by a video camera) bourgeois absurdism. If the little girl is literally trying to hide from existence, the apartment building’s 54 year old janitor Renee Michel (Josiane Balasko) has perfected her skills in the aspect of concealing. In both the figurative and literal sense, Michel isn’t often noticed. But that doesn’t mean that Michel is an unremarkable woman. Paloma relates Renee’s characteristics to that of a hedgehog – sharp-tongued & unkempt on the outside, but with a sensitive soul on the inside. The janitor’s sensitive side is evoked by the arrival of a wealthy & elegant Japanese widower, Mr Kakoru Ozu (Togo Igawa). Despite the class differences, they both share the taste of seeking solace amidst the books & classic films. Paloma is also nudged into these outsiders’ world and her fascination about these people gradually changes her perspective on life.

Mona Achache’s adapted screenplay imbues both the high and low points of a best-seller. If the movie’s whimsical nature occupies the high-end of the spectrum, the suggested mawkishness & neat resolutions occupies the low-end of the spectrum. Although the plot is about three eccentric & independent characters, who cherish their private lives and the meaning that’s derived through creativity and art, the script includes few of those manipulative & contrived emotions or elements. Of course these plot formalities are outmatched at many circumstances by the whimsical elements and astounding performances. In one of her creative endeavors, Paloma fills a glass with water and films her sister through the filled glass, demonstrating how limited the elder girl’s thoughts are (“archetype of the fish in the bowl theory; obsessed by the need to be less neurotic than her mother”).

Paloma also makes some of the ponderous and chuckle-worthy observations. She corrects her father’s friend about the differences between ‘go’ and ‘chess’ and says sentences like “Only psychiatry rivals religion for love of suffering” at the dinner table. Such reflective words not only suggest matured thought process of Paloma, but also subtly depicts her inner pain, especially when the parents brush-off those words as that of an ‘oddball’. Unlike her mother, Paloma doesn’t cry to demonstrate misery, but through her stoicism, we could experience the rejection and loneliness she is facing. The book and Achache’s script seems to be diffused with literary, cinematic & musical references. Those who have great interest in books & old movies might be immediately affirmed with the movie’s wavelength. These names or references make the bibliophiles & cinephiles within us to feel a kinship with the three central characters. However, that doesn’t mean that you need to be familiarized with names like Tolstoy and Ozu to relate to the film’s themes (Paloma in fact seems to have the characteristics of the kids in Ozu’s films.

Renee is another tough nut, who openly states that she is unsociable. But, the idea of connecting takes both of them to an elated level. Ozu’s magical presence makes these two characters to gradually crossover their cynicism. The friendship between Ozu and Paloma is pushed through believable limit. Paloma meets Ozu on the elevator and he asks about her interest in learning Japanese. Paloma says few words in Japanese, and Mr. Ozu instead of just marveling at her, corrects her pronunciation. Paloma for the first time might have felt that she has been taken seriously by a human. For the first time, she is constructively criticized rather than treated like a keyed toy. So, a friendship naturally ensues. The same kind of believable slow progression happens in the friendship between Ozu and Renee. Of course there are moments, where the events feel less like a naturalistic drama.

The abrupt, melodramatic climax gives us this unnaturalistic feeling. I felt that the closure didn’t have the emotional and intellectual honesty that drove away the rest of the movie. Class difference is one of the movie’s vital themes, but there weren’t explicit references to this and the theme didn’t narrow the characters’ actions. Of the performers, Balasko as Renee gives the most complete and soulful performance. She wonderfully expresses her terrifying as well as elated feeling, brought out by the friendship with Ozu and Paloma. Igawa’s elegance and insights reminds us of Morgan Freeman and his confidence is certainly infectious. Le Guillermic despite her character’s nature doesn’t come off as self-indulgent young brat. Her smartness doesn’t annoy us like that of the American movie kids.

“The Hedgehog” (95 minutes) is a moving, bittersweet tale of a demoralized pre-teen developing a deep appreciation of life. It is a sublime drama punctuated by few contrived plot turns.

Trailer

The Hedgehog aka Le herisson -- IMDb

American film-maker John McNaughton gained prominence with his debut film “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer”, which went on to attain the cult classic status. It was a dispassionate character study and one of ultra-realistic portrayals of serial-killer onscreen. It preceded avant-garde serial killer flicks like “Man Bites Dog” (1993) and was succeeded by Japanese master Immamura’s lacerating film “Vengeance is Mine” (1979). In his three decade career, McNaughton made other cult favorites like “Mad Dog and Glory”, “Normal Life” and “Wild Things”. His movie characters’ oddity and presence of disturbing psychological horror elements eluded him the commercial success and kept him away from bigger projects. McNaughton later went on to director TV movies & documentaries that didn’t grab anybody’s attention. With the Canadian independent movie“The Harvest” (2013), director McNaughton once again returned to the big screen. Although the film was sold as a horror movie, it is a engaging psychological thriller that leaves you with mixed feelings.

“The Harvest” starts with a terrifying sequence of a little boy getting deadly injured on the baseball field. One minute the boy’s mother is cheering for him and the next minute he is being rushed into a hospital with pulse dropping. Later, a motherly doctor comes out of the operating saying that the boy is alright. It is a strange beginning since the boy’s injury has nothing to do with the movie’s premise, but the whole scene is conceived to make us think that the doctor Katherine (Samantha Morton) is a warm-hearted human being. The next scene is more symbolic, where a boy bound to his wheel-chair, in his lavishly designed room, watches out the window. He helplessly looks at a crow, devouring the corns that are growing near his window. The adolescent boy named Andy (Charlie Tahan) seems to be suffering from some kind of debilitating disease and was overly cared by his protective mother/doctor Katherine.

Andy’s father Richard (Michael Shannon) has quit his job as a nurse to take care of the boy. Richard seems disturbed by the boy’s worsening health and only seeks solace by conversing with Sandra (Meadow Williams). They meet up in some random places, where Sandra gives few test drugs that might have heavy side-effects. Katherine rejects Andy’s demands to get fresh air and the boy also often looks tired due to increasing doses of drugs. Although the husband and wife repeatedly discuss about Andy’s illness, the details of his illness remain elusive. Meantime, a precocious teenager, May Ann (Natasha Calis) moves to her grandparent’s house, which is situated within a walking distance from Andy’s house. She has lost her parents in a recent accident and also displaced from all her friends. One day, wandering through the woods, she stumbles onto Andy’s house and is intrigued by the tired boy on wheel-chair.

Maryann befriends Andy and persistently asks questions about his illness. Andy is elated by the girl’s presence (his first friend). But, Katherine is unbelievably cold towards Maryann. She slams the door on the girl’s face and even visits Maryann’s grandparents’ house, to ask them to leave her son alone. Richard warms a little to the teenagers’ friendship. Katherine’s repeated warnings only compel Maryann to bond with Andy. One of the teenagers’ secret meetings is foiled by Katherine’s sudden arrival. Although Maryann smartly hides herself from Andy’s mother, she is stuck within a dark room that leads to the basement. There she finds a horrible truth about Andy’s illness that puts everything into perspective.

The chief problem with “The Harvest” is its mediocre script (written by Stephen Lancellotti), which lacks tension or psychological power-play in the second-half of the movie. All the tension during the first-half on sun-lit house seems to have emanated from the dark secrets held in basement, but once that secret comes to light, the tension drops down to a poor levels. It had all the markings of being a great psychological thriller, but the writer’s hesitation to put his central characters through anguish nearly ruins the film. Although Maryann gets the facts wrong the first time she is in the basement, viewers could easily guess ‘who is who’. But, the script sluggishly evolves from then on and thinks in the end that it is throwing us a chilling twist. We could overlook few of the inane & illogical decisions of the teen character, but what troubled me are the characteristics of Maryann’s grandfather (played by veteran actor Peter Fonda). He seems to be a more caring guy; looking at an opportunity to bond with his grand-daughter. But, when an opportunity presents itself, he not only rejects her story, he also gives some mawkish message like “Follow your heart”.

The script seems to be a blend of Grimm’s fairy tales and Stephen King novels. The writing aims to deliver an ironical message about overprotective parenthood and misplaced sense of love. If these themes were explored deeply, it could have been as great as the classic French thriller“Eyes without a Face” (also about a doctor parent, going to great lengths to save his damaged child). Director McNaughton has tried his best to keep the tension in the narrative and he succeeds till the mid-point. He builds the dread similar to that of King’s novel and stays away from diffusing jump scare moments. There are few pacing issues but it can be overlooked, since this is the film-maker’s first film in a decade. The movie has one of the best casts one could ever dream for an indie project. Samantha Morton gradually escalates her craziness to Kathy Bates level (“Misery”), but never given a menacing sequence to satiate her intense presence. Michel Shannon, despite his towering physical presence, adeptly plays the vulnerable & distressed character of Richard. The young actors Tahan and Calis are excellent. They subtly express the teenage solidarity without a single false note of sentimentality. The production designs are strikingly elaborate (Andy’s room itself gradually develops into a vital character).

“The Harvest” (104 minutes) has an interesting premise for a psychological horror/thriller. Its third-act cliches and illogical contrivances nearly derail our interest in the film, but still it is better than a conventional, rusty horror flick.

P.S. -- Don't watch the movie's trailer because I think it gives away a lot.

The Harvest -- IMDb

Nanni Moretti is one of the important Italian film-makers succeeding the great new-wave film-makers (Fellini, Antonoini, etc), who revolutionized world and Italian cinema. His early art-house comedies earned him the name“Italian Woody Allen”, although he had switched to making serious and wry films, especially after Palme d’Or winning “The Son’s Room” (2001). His satiric political movie on the controversial Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berluscoi (“The Caiman”) and the unusually funny Vatican tale (“We Have a Pope”) weren’t as critically appraised as his previous semi-autobiographical or his fantasia movies (I personally cherished both his bittersweet social critiques). Now, with “Mia Madre” (aka My Mother, 2015), Moretti once again returns to his autobiographical territory. Cinephiles might find this film less cathartic or touching than Moretti’s masterpiece“The Son’s Room”, even-though many of that movie’s themes are explored here too (death, self-doubt, etc).

Moretti’s whimsical substance and considerable pathos in “My Mother” reminisces us of the works of Abbas Kiarostami rather than Woody Allen. In this nuanced and tranquil family drama, Moretti rises above that strictly auto-biographic nature to infuse some universal statements.”Mia Madre” may not be the Italian director’s best, but its one of his more mature & sublime works. Moretti’s latest film is a about a anxious, self-absorbed woman filmmaker, whose mind is occupied by the imminent loss of her hospitalized mother. The obvious autobiographical angle comes from the truth that Moretti lost his mother during the filming of his last film “We have a Pope”. Despite the ‘My’ in the title, Moretti has chosen a woman to represent himself, perhaps to provide us with an extra creative dimension. Oddly, the woman film-maker has a compassionate sibling to lean on, who is played by Moretti himself. So, the director is referring to us that he is an amalgamation of both these characters – one racked by self-doubt, while the other blessed with some clear insights.

“My Mother” commences on the shooting of a film, where the acclaimed film-maker Margherita (Margherita Buy) is making her latest social-realist drama. Her ex-lover Vittorio (Enrico Ianneillo) is one of the cast members and the crew is shooting few of the stand-in scenes, before the arrival of American star Barry Huggins (John Turturo). Margherita looks a bit distracted and at the end of the day, she goes to the hospital to visit her mother Ada (Giulia Lazzarini), a retired teacher of classical languages. Ada is cared for by her elder son Giovanni (Moretti), who has taken a long leave and has no intention to return to his mundane job (at an engineering firm). Margherita is swept up by the emotional turmoil of losing her mother as the doctor warns that Ada’s time might be short. Margherita has only recently moved out of the apartment of her lover Vittorio and is now staying at her mother’s house. Her teenage daughter Livia (Beatrice Mancini) and ex-husband are on a skiing trip.

Guilt, fear and self-doubt racks the mind of Margherita as the impending death of her mother hovers around. Margherita’s stay at her mother’s house brings up haunted memories of the past. Her confrontation on mother’s mortality only brings nerve-wracking doubts about her own existence. The arrival of bothersome American actor Barry only escalates her insecurity. Ada is tired of being in the hospital and is increasingly uncertain of her own memories. Despite such a melodramatic core, Moretti isn’t up for doing a straight-forward, moving family drama. The script is mixed with sensitive euphemisms, splendid Meta shots and also a satiric look at film-making process.

“My Mother” is mostly about a film-maker, who is increasingly unable to isolate her directorial persona from her private life. Margherita’s uncertainty and ignorance of her mother’s fate reflects with her self-doubt on the film set. Her improbably pertinent dreams symbolize the inability to express simple motions life grief and love. Moretti’s script alternates between hospital rooms to the factory set, observing how the unrest in one arena is causing the other. May be the clash between the director’s private and public life weren’t as perfectly amalgamated as one would expect it to be. The comic interludes or the slapstick nature of Margherita‘s film-making chore might have undone the intimate family drama elements. But, it is clear from the first that “My Mother” isn’t deep exploration about death or grief (like“The Son’s Room"). It is more like Moretti observing and admitting his own misdeeds with some self-irony.

The thematically related film-making moments at times feel too contrived. It seems those episodes were designed to evoke a set of reactions from the central character. But, Margherita Buy (who plays the director) and John Turturo (his acting on a camera car was absolutely hilarious), playing the cliched role of American actor, elevate the contrived material to diffuse us with some grandstanding. Another element that seemed a bit under-developed is the relationship between Vittorio and Margherita. At one point, Vittorio says some acidic words about Margherita’s character nature. Since we are shown little about the lead character’s past, the accusations seem more like a bickering. The character of Ada, however, was very well written. The mother is satisfied with the life she has had (doted by her former students) and Moretti didn’t inject some fall sense of morbidity over her illness. To bring a little verisimilitude, director Moretti is said to have brought his mother’s things for the shoot.

There are still plenty of great moments in the film to dwell on. In one scene, Livia irritably questions on the importance of learning Latin to her mother. Margherita’s vague answer to Livia is a joy to watch, because her insistence on Latin to Livia is one way to lament on Ada’s memory (Ada being the teacher of Latin). Once again in this scene Margherita is unable to express herself because of that resonant theme of uncertainty. Some bits of broad comedy pokes at Moretti’s profession, especially Marghterita’s attempts to push her actors into a more relaxed performance style (“I’d like to see the actor next to the character”), which only confuses them more. The ending was perfectly understated without betraying any loud emotions.

“My Mother” (108 minutes) is a nuanced and elegiac observation of a woman facing existential crisis. This restrained family drama from Italian auteur Nanni Moretti definitely demands a lot of patience and a reflective mood.

Trailer

My Mother aka Mia madre -- IMDb

If you ignore the positive reviews of Alfonso Gomez-Rejon’s“Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” (2015), generating among cinephiles and just read its plot, the immediate line of thought you would have is ‘just another teen cancer tear-jerker’ or a ‘narcissistic high-school movie’. The movie never circumvents the conventional scenes we think that are gonna be in such a ‘cancer flick’. There’s the perfectly calculated laid-back attitude and a typical understated characterizations of indie films. The eccentric animated sequences plus the characters’ movie fixation reminds us of Michael Gondry’s films, while that coy quirkiness and self-referential jokes makes us holler the name ‘Wes Anderson’. So, on terms of originality the film might not score a lot. But, still “Me and Earl and Dying Girl” offers an emotional pull that it is irresistible. As the narrative oscillates between enthusiasm and pathos, we get a feeling that there are more genuine moments in this contemporary American teenager movie than in a usual YA novel or flick.

The coming-of-age was actually based on a YA novel written by Jesse Andrews (who has also sensibly adapted his novel), which pulled off the ‘Grand Jury Award’ at Sundance Film Festival. The subject of teen angst hits a nerve, the same way Stephen Chbosky’s “The Perks of being Wallflower” did. The movie starts with an indistinct Pittsburgh high school senior named Greg Gaines (Thomas Mann) explaining to us his unfailing formula for surviving in high school. He has dedicated his school life to learn the codes of in-groups and has tried to never associate with a single group. He alleges that the school cafeteria as “a disputed territory; It was Crimea, Kashmir and Gaza Strip all rolled into one”. It’s clear that Greg’s survival tactics has neither earned him any friends nor given him the ability to be trustworthy.

But, still Greg has one friend named Earl (RJ Cycler), with whom he hangs out in a self-indulgent history teacher’s office and at home. However, Greg likes the term ‘co-worker’ to describe rather than friend. As Earl explains in a latter scene, Greg has some serious trust &self-loathing issues that he hates to be friends with someone. They both are co-workers because the duo makes parodies/homages on classic art-house films, which they have started to watch from a very tender age, thanks to the influence of Greg’s well-meaning but aloof father (a tenured sociology professor, played by Nick Offerman). Greg’s mother (Connie Britton) is a little overly protective parent and often she likes to go through her son’s things. She also compels Greg to visit Rachel Kushner (Olivia Cooke), a schoolmate recently diagnosed with cancer.

Greg calls Rachel and says some awkward things. She doesn’t want a pity visit. Later, Greg honestly says why he has visited to her house: “I’m actually here because my mom is making me”. But, we are informed early that this relationship isn’t going to take the usual romance route as “Day one of Doomed Friendship” title card pops-up. Despite being in a closed-in space, they do not warm up to each other. He makes some awkward jokes about death, masturbation and high-school cliques, while she calmly listens to his eccentricities. As expected a genuine friendship builds between the two, but it is more centered on Greg, who learns to not rejoice in solipsism.

Even though the movie starts with a highly stylistic and self-aware setting, the narrative trajectory is very predictable. Jesse Andrews expresses a lot about the grown-up characters through Greg’s point-of-view, but they are more or less works like a cog in the machine rather than a separate entity. But, since the protagonist here wavers between ‘over-the-top’ humility and narcissistic attitude, his point of view on others doesn’t totally come off as stereotype. For example, about Earl, Greg simply introduces as “His house is short walk from mine, but in a tougher neighborhood; his dad is in Texas and his mom is a depressed shut-in”. It is all Greg could say about a guy with whom he had hanged-out since kindergarten. Earl’s stereotypical introduction isn’t the script’s negative aspect; it just makes us to see how limited Greg’s world-view is, in spite of being a bibliophile and cinephile. As the narrative progresses, we learn Earl isn’t a stereotypical character. In fact he talks more easily to Rachel and makes her feel less like a cancer victim than Greg. He also conveys the most soulful message to Rachel than any of the high school students and family members. I also personally liked how Greg and Rachel’s relationship is portrayed in a way to makes us ponder on whether there is a romantic connection between them or not.

Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon seems to have a penchant for sunlit shots. His previous feature film“The Town that Dreaded Sundown” was a typical, dull slasher flick, but the one commendable aspect was Alfonso’s impeccable frames. My favorite shot composition is the scene before the third act, where Rachel and Greg have a verbal dispute was splendidly filmed in a way that exposes both the person’s vulnerabilities and inner conflicts (although Rachel and Greg aren’t seeing face to face). The chief delight of “Dying Girl”is the hilarious little shorts on classic world cinema, created by Earl and Greg (“Eyes Wide Butt”, “Pooping Tom”, “Senior Citizen Kane”, etc). The scene where Greg imitates Werner Herzog, while applying for the college was one of the film’s funniest moment.

Since the movie is totally concentrated on “Me” in the title, the protagonist’s self-centered antics might make you feel a little exhausted. The ending is kind of inevitable and Greg finally learning to appreciate other people’s depth and complexity is touched upon with a little melodrama or sentimentality. Nevertheless, a total absence of melodrama would have undone the movie experience for many who seek a simple YA tear-jerker. The performances are just more than perfect. Thomas Mann and RJ Cycler (his debut feature) transcend the contrivances of their characters. But, the best of the lot is Olivia Cooke as Rachel. She has a limited screen time than what we expect, but at no point she gives us a pity performance. Rachel is said to be Cooke’s first dramatic role (she has only been in sci-fi or horror movies) and she has pulled it off with the elegance of an established star.

“Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” (105 minutes) is a poignant tale of teenage friendship that renders how stupid it is to waste our life on self-absorption & self-loathing. Despite its last-act melodrama, you will feel that the tears shed are genuinely earned.

Trailer

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl -- IMDb

Early in the Canadian film-maker Ted Kotcheff’s underrated Australian outback classic“Wake in Fright” (1971), the protagonist John Grant (Gary Bond), a haughty school teacher in the outback, dreams about his beautiful girlfriend Robyn swimming on the beach. She slowly emerges from the water and comes closer to John in a sexual manner as he places a beer between her breasts. The flush surroundings, sexual desire and a cold beer are all what John hopes for as he is making his Christmas holiday trip to Sydney. Sex and alcohol really consumes John in that holiday trip, but it turns out to be his life’s most nightmarish experience and also he doesn’t make it to Sydney to meet Robyn. “Wake in Fright” could be deemed as one of the exhausting movie experience a viewer could have; not because it is just a boring movie, but since pulls us into the heart of darkness and shows the meaning of hell through the unbridled exhibition of masculinity.

“Wake in Fright” premiered at 1971 Cannes Film Festival and did well in the European art-house circuits. It wasn’t well received in America and in Australia the movie failed big since it was thought to have portrayed an insulting & abrasive view of the outback Ausralians. Although the movie gained the label ‘cult classic’, it was almost forgotten until it resurfaced in Cannes (shown under classics banner; after Antonoini’s “L’Avventura”, “Wake in Fright" was the only movie to be shown twice in Cannes) in 2009 after an impeccable digital restoration (thanks to a ten year quest by Australian producer & editor Anthony Buckley). It was circulated under the label ‘one of cinema’s long lost classics’ and now in the last five years, it has become one of the most talked about Australian film.

“Wake in Fright” was made a year before the American classics “Deliverance” & “Straw Dogs”. Both the movies depicted the dark side of masculinity and its propensity for violence. It also portrayed how civilization could be replaced with mindless savagery even with the slightest provocation. Although these films imbued a balanced approach towards the frontier or outback people, it paved way to a lot of stereotypical exploitative American movies. “Wake in Fright” was based on the 1961 novel by prolific Australian novelist and journalist Kenneth Cook (script written by British writer Evan Jones). The story takes place in a fictional town named “Budanyabba”, which was actually based on Broken Hill in New South Wales – one of the most isolated inland towns in Australia. Director Ted Kotcheff has stated in interviews that he spent some time in Broken Hill (like the author) before filming.

“Wake in Fright” actually observes its hyper-macho characters and never takes a moralist stance to condemn the people of outback. The narrative looked more disturbing than “Deliverance” because the protagonist is partly the reason for his downfall. John Grant is both a victim as well as a perpetrator. Kotcheff’s gets into the observational mode from his first expansive, overhead shot, where the camera pans 360 degrees to show the view of outback town “Tiboonda”. A rail-road track runs through the parched landscape and a small stage makes up for a station platform. Only two buildings are in our view, each placed parallel on either side of the tracks. One is the school building, where Grant is looking at his watch and the blank-faced children are waiting calmly. As the right time strikes off, the elated children run off to enjoy their Christmas holidays before courteously wishing their teacher. Grant slowly makes his way to the other building, a bar incorporated with lodges. He packs his suitcase, has a drink and takes the train.

As he enters the train, a hospitable man offers him a beer, which Grant refuses. He has the aforementioned dream about Robyn on the train and later makes it to the town of “Bundanyabba” (shortly called as ‘Yabba’). The cab driver joyfully talks how great the town is. Grant checks into a seedy hotel. The charge for the room is $4 and $1 as deposit, to be returned after the check-out. Grant is looking forward for his morning flight to Sydney and in the night he goes for a drink in the town. A very hospitable sheriff Jock Crawford (Chips Rafferty) buys him a beer, while Grant shares disdain for outback towns. Grant feels superiority over the townsmen, who drink and play simple-minded games. He hates their ‘aggressive hospitality’. When Grant makes one of his snobby remarks, the mysterious ‘Doc’ Tydon (Donald Pleasance) says “its death to farm out here. It’s worse than death in the mines. You want them to sing opera as well?” Gradually, Grant lets the delirious spirit of Yabba to affect him. The drink keeps on coming and the superiority is stricken down by the vice of gambling. Grant loses all his money (except for that $1 dollar) and literally wakes up naked in his bed, the next morning. He is swept up by a maelstrom of a group of hard-drinking & hard-living guys and witnesses different forms of brutality.

Spoilers Ahead

Director Kotcheff and writer Evan Jones have made enough research to not make “Wake in Fright” into a one-sided outsider view of Australian outback. Although Yabba brings out Grant’s descent into madness, his own perception on money and easy life is shown as the triggering point for the downfall. Doc Tydon says “Discontent is the luxury of well-to-do” as Grant views the Yabba men as vile creatures. When Grant himself was stripped of luxury (the money), he just has no other choice than to surrender himself to the unchecked primitive instincts. Kotcheff and Jones are careful to never push Grant into life-threatening situation as the group of friends confront in Boorman’s“Deliverance”. The miners Dick and Joe plus Tydon’s antics are overly aggressive and domineering, but the situation never becomes that the men are deliberately torturing Grant to do things. Grant joyously gets into the social rituals because he has lost his luxury and his hope on the profession. The most disturbing thing about the film is not the indigestible way of living of these men, but Grant’s judgmental perception and his inability to relate to people devoid of opulence. Grant’s descent is in way a defeat of his educational life, which has only clouded his perceptions.

Jones and Kotcheff repeatedly & subtly refer to this clouded perception of Grant. One of the earlier hints is his dream about Robyn. She is not a symbol of love, but only a symbol of carnality, which Grant wants to consume just as he wants to accumulate the easy money through gambling. The nightmarish experience the protagonist has might be condemned as too dark to be close to reality, although alcoholism has always been the biggest problem with isolated towns, all over the world. But, then Grant’s experiences are not diffused like assortment of vile elements. He always has the chance to say ‘enough’ and ask for some help (his pride refuses to borrow money). One of the laudable aspects of Jones’ script is the complex portrayal of Janette Hynes (Sylvia Kay) – the only characterized female player. The women in those towns weren’t allowed inside pubs or clubs. So, they basically trapped inside the confines of house, bringing in beers when their husband’s or father’s friends arrive to socialize. Janette’s desolate looks just becomes emblematic of the psychological agonies, endured by the townswomen. Her promiscuity is also viewed differently from Tydon without refraining to judgement.

The characterization and the little quirks of mining men Dick (Jack Thompson) and Joe (Peter Whittle) keeps us intriguing. They aren’t the archetype villains for this movie. The duo are just living their routine life, but still everything from that hand squeezing to the jubilation over kangaroo killings would perfectly unhinge a viewer. Director Ted Kotcheff, in an interview to ‘Senses of Cinema’ talks about how he planned to film a scene that shows Dick and Joe working in the mines. Kotcheff adds that if the scene in the mines were filmed it would have given more perception for viewers on why these men are acting crazy and drinking themselves to death (“It was the heat and dust and lack of women that was contributing to their behavior”). Nevertheless, the most talked about or the most shockingly visceral scene in “Wake in Fright” is the kangaroo hunting. Documentary footage of actual kangaroo hunting was seamlessly edited into the movie. We actually witness these genial creatures being brutally killed on camera and it takes some time to digest that fact. Producer’s note states that the documentary footage was included after consultations with animal rights organizations in both Australia and UK. The footage was expected to create contempt among general public for hunting kangaroos (the couple of kangaroos that’s confronted by Dick and Grant in the movie weren’t harmed).

One of the recurrent visual motifs in the film is the blinding or bright light. Light, which is always viewed as a symbol for clarity, is ironically used in the vital sequences, whenever Grant is about to take another step-down towards hell. The blinding light in the pub, before the coin toss, ruins him of his money & pride and later the spotlights during kangaroo hunting brings out Grant’s more animistic side. Despite the claims that “Wake in Fright” only showcases the darkly fanciful view of outback, the people are shown in a balanced manner. The movie starts with one of Grant’s student giving him a gift for Christmas. The sheriff is affable man, who could have helped out Grant if he had asked and so does Mr Hynes. The townspeople stand to attention when the Anzac war memorial, in remembrance of the town’s dead soldiers, is recited on the radio. The truck driver, who promises to take Grant to the ‘city’, didn’t charge him for the trip and has returned back Grant’s rifle (let’s also not forget the guy who drives Grant over ’50 miles of heat and dust’). These random acts of kindness may not cling to our memory like the actions of Dick, Joe, Janette and Tydon, but these innocent random people stops us – the sophisticated audiences – from making the easy judgments. May be the ambiguous message in the film is not to think that we are all superior over these men. It subtly asks us what you would do if you are put under the same circumstances as these men.

“Wake in Fright” (114 minutes) is one of the most haunting and terrifying works of cinema about unchecked masculinity and isolated towns. The movie is frightful because the five decade old story line still seems to not have lost its relevance.

Trailer

Wake in Fright -- IMDb

Wake in Fright -- Roger Ebert

Ted Kotcheff's Interview -- Senses of Cinema

The world’s most beloved and highly imaginative animation studio, Japan’s Studio Ghibli, has recently announced its temporary break from anime productions. The retirement of anime masters Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata combined with the recent box-office misfortunes has made the studio to take such a decision. It is very sad news for fervent film buffs all over the world. “When Marnie Was There” (aka "Omoide na Mani", 2014) would remain as the latest Ghibli movie for quite some time (Marnie was also said to have performed poorly in Japanese box-office). Directed by Hiromasa Yonebayashi, “Marnie” was based on the British novelist Joan G Robinson’s 1967 novel (“Howl’s Moving Castle” & “Secret World of Arrietty” were also based on British novels).

Ghibli’s trademark coming-of-age themes, rich natural world, positively infectious spirit and bitter-sweetness encompasses “When Marnie Was There”, although the movie might not measure up to the studio’s evergreen classics “Princess Mononoke”, “My Neighbor Totoro” and “Spirited Away”. “Marnie” was a minimal work, even when compared with Ghibli’s recent endeavors like “The Wind Rises” and “Tale of the Princess Kaguya” (one of the gorgeous hand-drawn anime ever made). Nevertheless,“Marnie” could be enjoyed on its own terms and I have always felt that an above average Ghibli work is superior to Hollywood animation studio masterpieces. Director Yonebashi has deftly adapted a Western children’s book, imbuing Japanese context and little of adult psychology.

The anime begins with 12 year old Anna Sasaki woefully sitting under the shade of tree, watching over the jubilant kids running around the playground. Her artistic talent is well evident from the picture she has drawn of the playground. But, her portrait more or less shows the playing area as some sort of grey, desolate place. Anna proclaims “In the world there’s an invisible magical circle; these people are inside, and I’m outside”. Her quest to get into an inner magical circle is makes up for the movie’s narrative. Anna, the asthmatic child on the cusp of puberty, has only recently confronted with this hopeless feeling as she discovered some terrible document about her foster mother. Anna’s worried guardian Yoriko insists that the girl call her ‘mother’, but Anna only thinks of her as an aunt.

On the doctor’s insistence, Anna is sent to Yoriko’s relative in the countryside. The fresh air might provide cure to her ailing disease and calm the shredding emotions. She stays up with Oiwas, who reminds us of the genial elderly couple of Ozu films. Oiwas’ own children are living in cities and they are very happy to receive Anna. They also give Anna her own space. Anna wanders around the beautiful coastal town and mostly avoids people. Anna’s love for sketching draws her close to an astounding, dilapidated, British-style manor. Known as “Marsh House”, the majestic building is situated on the other side of a cove. Anna repeatedly dreams about the building and in her dreams, she sees a young blonde girl in high window having her hair brushed by a governess. One day, Anna even meets the mysterious girl named “Marnie”. Both the girls have blue eyes and a tormented childhood. As the girls strongly bond with the feeling of friendship, questions arise about the identity of Marnie.

The explanation of the mystery behind the existence of Marnie may not satisfy us, compared to the mystery itself. The backstory is too melodramatic that makes reminisces us of mopey YA novels, but these flaws are transcended by the creation of an exquisitely beautiful landscape, whose luminescence can’t be sometimes explained by mere words. The richly textured image of Anna rowing the boat, while Marnie stands on the bow, her blonde hair fluttering, is something only the Ghibli geniuses could think of. There are many such virtuoso moments, which make us forget the dab resolutions and lack of complex catharsis. Like previous Ghibli movies, the protagonist goes through the subtly hinted phase of sexual awakening or has a pre-adoslescent crush (Anna was flustered when she sees Marnie dancing with a boy). Similar to “Spirited Away”, Anna stumbles into some sort of secret realm (although not as elaborate as the Miyazaki classic) in which there are no outright villains. If there is an antagonist in the anime, it would be the passage of time and haunting, entombed memories.

Apart from the visually poetic images of moonlit marsh landscapes, the other captivating vision is the evocation of that Gothic mansion. The initial interplay between Anna and Marnie were really heartfelt; two fragile souls reaching out to each other for affection. Director Yonebashi adeptly diffuses some of the Japanese elements: like the presence of enigmatic, reticent fisherman, Toichi; the good-natured Oiwa hand-carved owl sculptures (in Japanese culture, owls are the symbol of luck and provide protection from hardships), etc. The standards for liking “Marnie” might be defined by viewers’ patience and attention, and their ability to overlook few melodramatic contrivances.

“When Marnie Was There” (103 minutes) is a must watch for the cinephiles, who love the works of Studio Ghibli. It is a lyrical adventure story that explores lush landscapes as well as haunted memories.

Trailer

When Marnie Was There aka Omoide no Mani -- IMDb

Theater-artist turned film-maker G Bramma’s Tamil movie “Kuttram Kadithal” (2015) bears an English title “The Punishment”, although the literal translation means ‘daring a crime’ (see Wikipedia page for the movie). The crime in the movie isn’t pertained to a particular individual, but the entire system – from education to media – that trains its people to either run away from truth or embrace half-truths.“Kuttram Kadithal” was screened at various film festivals, including Goa and Mumbai and went on to a National award for ‘Best Tamil Feature’ (although it was only recently released in theaters). The film has little thriller elements, but it is mostly a sublime, nonjudgmental character study about different people, hailing from various socioeconomic class.

The movie opens in the house of a newly married couple. The assortment of personal photos on the cupboard plus their names – Merlin and Manikandan -- and religious icons refer to the fact that it’s a love marriage, while the slightly forlorn expression of Merlin (Radhika Prasidhha) states that their marriage didn’t have parents’ approval (in this case, Merlin’s mother – a devout Christian). When she sits in front of the mirror, before getting reading to start her day as the school teacher, Merlin is in a dilemma about following whose faith. She asks her husband (Sai Rajkumar) to place the sindoor on her forehead, a decision which shows that she is ready to embrace both faiths. Merlin, who is afraid of rat and a more sensitive woman, wears the mask of a strict teacher amongst the students.

She goes as a substitute teacher for a lower class (5^thstandard) and sees a birthday girl crying. She discovers that a boy named ‘Chezhiyan’ (Ajay) from the same class has kissed the girl, on account of her birthday. The harmlessly jubilant boy makes a humorous remark when Merlin asks about his behavior. She gets infuriated by the remark and slaps the boy, who falls down and slips into an unconscious state. Merlin is asked to immediately leave the premises of school as the principal advises that it might become a large issue. The narrative moves between Merlin experiencing the crisis of faith and the boy’s mother, an auto-driver, who has lost her husband. The boy’s uncle, Udhayan (Pavel) – a headstrong man and the agitated school principal makes up for some of film’s most intriguing characters.

“Kuttram Kadithal” is one of the most subtle and vividly detailed Tamil/Indian movies in the recent times. In an interview to Hindu, writer/director Bramma states how a film should not only have content, but also aesthetics that could appeal to universal audiences. Indian cinema is often pockmarked with movies that have relevant social messages, but savaged by film-makers with a hypocritical moralist stance. Bramma infuses effectual characterization rather than treat the actors as caricatures or set properties. Except for the portrayal of corporate media, the characters are multi-dimensional, each behaving in a manner that isn’t cinematic.

Spoilers Ahead

The director repeatedly alludes to how the characters make decision from their previous experiences or from their socioeconomic perspective. The high principled head-master (a loving husband, an agonized father; he is seen following the rule of wearing helmet) immediately asks the teacher to run away rather than facing the consequences for her mistake or crime. He has taken this decision, which isn’t limited between right or wrong. The head-master fears his fellow people of the society, whom he thinks might do something rash, out of anger. His thought process might not be an exaggeration, but then this choice transcends the dimension of the crime and feeds off creatures that thrive on some sensation. Self-willed Udayan, in one earlier scene, stops a rich man in the car, who has knocked down a fragile old man, riding in a cycle. The rich man without a second thought hands over money as compensation and wants to run away from the situation. But, Udayan makes the rich guy to take the old man to hospital as compensation. Through this little sequence as well as Merlin’s fleeing, Bramma points out how the society has taught its people to run away from the erroneously perpetrated crimes by taking few shortcuts.

Despite portraying Udhayan with a headstrong, the writer has shown good judgment in never making the character to do some dramatic things. Udhayan is also shown as a reasonable guy, who knows when to back off. The total lack of sexual education (or the way it is perceived even among adults) is also one of the chief plot elements. The words the Zoology teacher uses on the reproduction class to the giggling students makes up for one of the well-written dialogues in the film. Apart from being a staunch societal drama, Bramma also weaves the movie as women’s journey through crisis of faith and as a tale of mothers. Mirror, the symbol of both physical and spiritual reflection, is used on couple of occasions by the director to showcase Merlin’s faith crisis. After the disastrous incident in school, Merlin goes to a Church and watches her face in a two-Wheeler rear-view mirror. Her bewildered face in the mirror is juxtaposed with the symbol of cross and in a fleeting moment, she comes to a decision that her current predicament is related to her previous choice of abandoning the faith. She immediately rubs off the sindoor on her forehead. Through her short trip, Merlin comes across different kinds of religious (Christianity) icons that also gradually stabilizes or makes her to do the right thing.

In his landmark novel “Mother”, Maxim Gorky wrote “Mothers are hardly ever priced”. Director Bramma, apart from repeatedly referring to this novel, has designed the script to be a tale of working class women or mothers. The decision of head-master and his wife to protect Merlin seems to be a parental instinct; the struggles of Chezhiyan’s mother are distinctly portrayed; and the levelheaded policewoman is seen picking her son from karate class amidst her pressurized work. The other significantly commendable aspect of Bramma’s direction is the way the songs are amalgamated into the narrative. The great Tamil Poet Subramaniya Bharathiyar’s magnificent song “Chinnanchiru Kiliyae” was well orchestrated (music by Shankar Rangarajan) and an earlier song in the school impeccably brings the sense of being in an actual classroom. The movie has its own set of flaws like trying to be a thriller or the melodramatic contrivances towards the end. A brief judgmental view of media doesn’t seem to fit into the movie’s environment. The director imbues the idea of media being a stalker with sinister intentions (as if yellow journalism is the only kind). But, these few missteps don’t affect the subtlety of the movie’s social message.

“Kuttram Kadithal” (120 minutes) is a skillfully designed social issue drama that might inspire Indian film-makers on how to tackle such subjects without getting into the preachy mode.

Trailer

Kuttram Kadithal review -- Baradwaj Rangan

One of the recurring themes in 21^st century South Korean movies is bureaucratic negligence and the corruption in legal or justice system. A good deal of movies have come out in the past five years from Korean peninsula that depicts how the ‘system’ itself is an oppressor or abuser, just like a vicious perpetrator. “The Attorney”, “Way Back Home” and the gleefully gooey “Miracle in Cell no.7” are some of the few flicks with a lacerating view point on Korean bureaucratic and justice system. The most disturbing kind of negligence or ignorance is the ones witnessed in child or teen abuse cases. “Silenced” and “Han Gong-ju” were based on the real life sexual abuse incidents of minor girls. Both the movies depicted how the community’s politicians & prosecutors join hands to cover up the truth rather than punish the perpetrators. The chief problem in such movies has been the overtones of melodrama and caricatured characters. They all are shocking or disturbing in its portrayal, but subtlety is one vital thing that most of these Korean films are devoid of.

July Jung’s“A Girl at My Door” (aka “Dohee-ya”, 2014), on the outset, looks like another overly sentimental film on the theme of child abuse. The movie’s posters have the two of the most melancholic faces of Korean cinema -- Doona Bae& Sae-ron Kim– looking at viewers with a forlorn expression. The story line nudges you to think that it’s going to be another ‘fighting against the system’ movie, but “A Girl at My Door” surprises us at every turn. July Jung takes up the most tried and tested theme, in not only Korean cinema, but world cinema, and still breathes in an understated intrigue and beauty. There are few melodramatic touches, unnerving sexual overtones and tonal glitches, but the nuanced performances alongside the psychological examination of characters turns it into one of the vital works of modern Korean cinema.

The movie opens with a woman driving to a seaside village that buzzes with a sound of cicadas and where sun hardly shines on the lush green fields. The woman is the newly assigned police chief, Young-nam (Doona Bae). On the side of the road, a young girl Do-Hee (Kim Sae-ron) plays with a frog and as Young-nam drives past a puddle, the girl is doused in rainwater. Young-nam gets out and they both stare at each other before Do-Hee dashes off into the field. The title then appears on the sun-drenched field (which reminds us of the opening symmetric shot of the field in “Memories of Murder”). A fellow police officer takes Young-nam through the coastal village, which seems to be only populated by old people, except for Yong-Ha (Sae-byeok Song) and his gang of foreign workers.

Yong-Ha is a hotheaded guy, who makes some passes on the young station chief, who subverts it with her melancholic face. A couple of villagers seem to be annoyed by Young-nam, bringing bottled water to the village, as if there is no clean water there. But, we later learn that the ‘water is actually an alcohol and she is drinking loads of it every night before going to sleep. Young-nam’s alcohol problem seems to have raised from her past humiliation. Her assignment to the village is subtly referenced as a punishment for‘misconduct’. The close-knit townsfolk and the quotidian police work do nothing to change her gloominess. Young-nam, however, is intrigued by the bedraggled 14 year old girl, Do-Hee, who is repeatedly beaten by her drunk step-father Yong-Ha and unruly, motorcycle driving grandmother.

Do-Hee’s is often addressed by words like ‘bitch’, little whore’ and ‘mutt’ (even her classmates use those words). Do-Hee’s mother seems to have abandoned the girl and from then on she is bearing the Yong-Ha’s unrestrained rage. The girl shows up at Young-nam’s door couple of times, seeking respite from her dad’s beating. Young-nam repeatedly warns Yong-ha and gradually becomes a surrogate mother to Do-Hee. She makes Doo-Hee to stay with her during the vacation, cooks meals, takes her shopping and teaches few life lessons. As the young girl gradually blooms into pubescence, Young-nam’s troubled past resurfaces. Her quest to protect the girl is seen with a malicious intent by the townsfolk as well as the law officers.

Spoilers Ahead

Although Jung’s story takes place in a Korean coastal village, the patriarchal mindset, bigotry and misogyny are common themes that could be universally experienced – urban or rural. Jung points out at the distressing aspects of traditional Korean culture and confronts it with mature, contemporary viewpoints. A variety of themes are scrutinized in the narrative including alcoholism, psychological impairments, child abuse, the plight of illegal immigrants and homosexuality. Some of the themes aren’t explored in a satisfactory manner, but Jung never offers any easy or sentimental resolutions to the problems presented. One of the strongest aspects of the script is the way it circumvents the expectations of audiences and their perceptions. Based on certain Korean stereotypes, viewers may expect this film to be a condemnation on ‘the system’. Jung, more or less, observes the incidents rather than passing judgements. The idea of exploring ugliness beneath the serene rural setting isn’t something new to Korean cinema, but director Jung uses it in an effective way.

The transgressive relationship between Do-Hee and Young-nam is handled in a sensitive manner. A little mistake would have made the relationship either controversial or cheap. Despite the presence of taboo cinematic subjects like child abuse & homosexuality, the film is mainly about loneliness & banishment of females in a patriarchal society. The tolerance of abuse and other psychological ills from the female perspective is also impeccably addressed. Movies on the taboo subjects often leave out the end result of abuses on the victims. Here, it shows how the young victims themselves become violent and manipulative as their abuser. A highly distressing scene happens latter in the film, where the victim uses the general perception to her advantage. A little earlier, before that scene, an interrogator asks Do-Hee “did she (Young-nam) adore you?” The young girl replies with a wide, elated eyes, although what she says is perceived from the wrong context. From that experience, Do-Hee learns an insidious idea of manipulation (the follow-up sequence in interrogation room is washed with irony).

The movie is also about the double standards we often take for the perceived betterment of society or family. Yong-Ha is often addressed as the man helping for the village’s economy, and so his pernicious exploits are turned a blind eye. Young-nam’s innocuous connection with Do-Hee is closely watched, when secrets about her sexuality are discovered. The interrogators are more interested in sexual abuse of the child, compared with the other forms of abuses she has faced. Although the male characters aren’t as three-dimensional as females, the performances all are uniformly excellent. Kim Sae-ron has previously played couple of neglected child roles – in “A Brand New Life” & “The Man from Nowhere”, but her acting never takes the predictable route. Kim plays a more mature character than in her previous films as she subtly expresses the prolonged abuse of Do-Hee. Her eyes faultlessly convey the compassion and the inner vicious feeling. Doona Bae has the perfect melancholic face to play emotionally bruised characters. She is both convincing as an authoritative law officer and also as a defensive surrogate mother.

“A Girl at My Door” (120 minutes) takes one the bleakest subjects in cinema (child abuse) and refuses to travel in the regular or melodramatic ‘victim’ narrative. The movie’s feminine perspective and subtle revelations raises many thought-provoking questions.

Trailer

A Girl at My Door aka Dohee-ya -- IMDb

A carnival or a festival in a region could be viewed as an expression of the culture that encapsulates spectacular ceremonies & extravaganzas. The central element of the carnivals is to celebrate & recognize the cultural pluralism that is prevalent all over the world. India is a nation which is embellished by the words ‘Unity in diversity’. Despite being a land of pluralistic culture, there have been few evocative, pictorial works that observe this beauty and symbiosis in the diversity. Roopa Baruah’s“Riders of the Mist” (2015) is one of the rare Indian documentaries which honor a beautiful, unique tradition, conducted for the past 135 years in the Northeast Indian state, Assam. Like the Western carnivals, the anchor point of this Assamese tradition is bareback pony racing.

The pony race are part of Upper Assam’s Jorhat district, held in the local gymkhana from 1877. The annual races are the much-awaited event, especially for the riders of Mishing tribe (second largest ethic group in North-east India). Mishing tribe is known for their affinity towards Brahmaputra River and has raised ponies for many generations (to assist them in transportation). Initially, the races were started in British rule for tea planters, who used their horses for work in tea estate. But, over the years, the race has turned into a heritage event that brings together distinct ethnic or cultural groups of Assam. The thoroughbreds were replaced with semi-feral country ponies (and organizers of races provides fund every year for the development of Mishing community).

As the title beckons, “Riders of the Mist” starts on a misty morning along a riverine island of the majestic Brahmaputra River. The wild horses are being rounded up by the villagers to train them for the annual competition. Most of the participants in the race are third or fourth generation pony riders, who work in the fields or as laborers, rest of the year. Director Roopa tracks down the life of Deepak Bora and Heman Tai – men who have inherited the penchant for bareback racing from their forefathers. Deepak provides some vivid insights and intriguing myths about horses and their relationship with humans. The complex level of bonding these village men share with their semi-feral horses is absolutely astounding. For these jockeys, the festival sense slowly creeps in as they anticipate to win the coveted ‘Governor’s Cup’.

However, the desire to win the cup doesn’t arise from reaping the economic benefits of a victory. In fact, as Deepak explains, ‘the winner gets an award and five sheets of tin roofing as donation’. Deepak goes on to say that if he win the race, he will give away his donation for temple. In another occasion, we hear another rider telling how the preparation for racing only costs them money. So, the bareback pony races are purely based on passion and that fiery passion is much evident in the eyes of these calm-faced young men. Deepak and Heman wasn’t the only third or fourth generation people involved in the racing; there are also young stewards in the Gymkhana club who have been observing & preserving the age-old tradition as their great-Grand fathers.

“Riders of the Mist” isn’t a simple sports documentary that traverses through the life of race participants to give us the winner. It wonderfully observes the symbiosis between humans and horses and between the humans, hailing from different socioeconomic class. The villagers’ preparation for the race and their various rituals & exciting myths might seem quirky for the uninitiated, but the film-maker is clever enough to observe the quirkiness that prevails inside the club. Oddities aside, the annual tradition seems to amalgamate the contemporary and age-old societies. Director Roopa’s restrained, nonjudgmental style depicts how passion flows in an unbridled manner, both inside and outside the opulent club. But, the documentary isn’t also just about the uniting of diverse people. There is the vital third element, which are the selfless animals itself.

Couple of stunning passages is documented in “Riders of the Mist” (cinematography by Vikram Srivastava) that shows the arrival & departure of the ponies. These visuals convey not only about the selfless lives of the animals, but also how they had played a significant role in our cultural & economic thriving. There are wonderful words that adorn the final images of the movie (as the horses swim back across the river) portray how these animals allow us to ‘share the moments of joy’. A vast life lesson is buried within the altruistic attitude of the horses. As the director Roopa delivers those words, the title ‘Riders of the Mist’, which seems to denote the literal images of the riders on their pones, diffuses a metaphorical sense on us. Editor Hemanti Sarkar (“English Vinglish”, Peepli Live”) has done a commendable job in bringing together the seemingly different elements of the tradition. A sequence towards the end, where the dance hall of the elite merges with the hut of a tribal man, is one such astounding example of the editing.

“Riders of the Mist” (65 minutes) is one of the rare & best Indian documentaries that celebrates the nation’s indefatigable cultural pluralism. It is an outstanding glimpse into a custom held together by passion and altruism.

Trailer

Riders of the Mist -- IMDb

10 Best Indian Documentaries of 2015 -- Long Live Cinema

After the release of astounding existential heist thriller “The Aura” aka“El Aura” (2005), the movie lovers were robbed off a rapidly budding talent in Argentinian & world cinema. Buenos Aires born film-maker Fabian Bielinsky, whose brief but gleaming career (“Nine Queens”, “El Aura”) came to end on June 28, 2006 due to his sudden death (heart attack) at the age of 47. Bielinsky attained the directorial chair only through hardships and unceasing apprenticeship (he directed his first movie nearly after two decades entering into the industry, in 1983). Nevertheless, Bielinsky with his two films have explored or portrayed themes & visuals, which some of the mainstream directors haven’t pursued throughout their career. His penchant for the definitive style of narrative construction is evident, especially in‘Aura’ and by each of the re-watches of “El Aura”, a movie-buff is left to ponder over what kind of master narratives did Bielinsky’s mind held for us?

The movie opens with a man lying on a white tile floor. He gradually grasps his surroundings, gets up and as the camera pulls back, we see he is in the lobby of a bank ATM. Later, we learn that the man has had an epileptic seizure. His name is Esteban Espinosa (Ricardo Darin) and we see him in his workshop, preparing the lifeless body of a fox (a taxidermist) for a museum in Buenos Aires. The loud music in the workshop drowns out the beckoning of his wife. Espinosa has a photographic memory and his favorite hobby is to design elaborate robbery fantasies, which he explains to a fellow taxidermist Sontag (Alejandro Awada), while waiting to get paid for his work. Sontag asks the loner Espinosa to accompany him on a hunting trip through the forests of southern Argentina. Espinosa immediately rejects the proposal, but when he returns home, he sees that his wife has left him and agrees to the hunting trip.

Espinosa, the man experiencing an existential crisis, seems to have been affixed to a place. He is stuck inside himself and this lack of movement (literal as well as figurative) is wonderfully visualized in a earlier scene, where the side profile of Espinosa sitting in his bed (with the letter his wife has left), seamlessly morphs into him sitting in the airport lounge, then in the airplane and finally in the jeep, going to a forest resort. Since the local casino is gearing up for its last run, the town is riddled with guests and so Espinosa and Sontag are forced to stay in a backwoods cabin, managed by an elderly man Carlos Dietrich (Manuel Rodal). As Dietrich has gone on a trip, his young wife Diana (Dolores Fonzi) is in charge.

The next day hunting doesn’t go as planned as Espinosa botches Sontag’s chance to hunt a deer. They both exchange some caustic remarks and later Sontag leaves due to a personal problem. Espinosa, the guy who doesn’t want to kill animals, wants to prove to his friend that he is a tough guy. Ultimately, he takes a shot, but unfortunately, he brings down some bystander. The accidental killing, however, opens up new possibilities in Espinosa’s life. Through a series of coincidences and unpredictable turns, Espinosa gets the chance to perform a real time, perfect heist. But, this isn’t a conventional gripping thriller as the protagonist is both an uninvolved onlooker and a chief player.

Espinosa is the perfect ‘noir’ hero, besieged by loneliness and lack of ties. The film’s title indicates the trance state the protagonist experiences before the epileptic seizure. Espinosa explains this to Diana: “everything stands still and a door opens in your head and lets things in. There is nothing you can do to stop it. You're free: no options, no choice, nothing for you to decide. Things narrow and you surrender yourself”. Since noir heroes are defined by their downfalls, one gets a feeling that Espinosa has been in this trance state for a long time, waiting for the inevitable. Espinosa’ epilepsy isn’t some gimmick that is instilled to move forward the narrative.

The theme of frozen time (or the state of ‘aura’) is repeatedly evoked in the narrative; through Espinosa’s vivid photographic memory or even in the moments when he points a gun at someone. There are many analogous sequences in the film, where time freezes and all that’s left for the protagonist is to surrender himself. Director Bielinsky diffuses this idea of getting stuck in time or place to other minor characters too. Diana and her brother Julio are in a state, where nothing is left for them to decide. One of the vicious thugs (Pablo Cedron) says “The first I saw you I said, ‘this isn’t going to work”, but he goes with Espinosa’s plan as if it is inevitable. The other old thug (Walter Reyno) is more afraid of moving out than a botched heist plan.

Bielinsky’s script has got to be one of the original scripts in cinema. It is crafted with such attention to detail, which transcends the nature of some of the conventional crime cinema elements. The script evokes the dreamy, deeply psychological narrative approach of Antonoini’s or Christopher Nolan films (“Insomnia” & “Memento”). The vivid explanation of Espinosa’s psychological state imbues us the sensation to contemplate on the blurring line that separates reality from fantasy (just like in “Memento”). Bielinsky was also wonderfully inventive in moving forward the narrative. Two sequences were absolutely awe-inspiring for the way it was written and visualized on-screen: the botched heist involving Vega as Espinosa observes from a detached state; the scene in ‘El Eden’, where Espinosa makes a little conversation with the little girl, Vanina and learns a lot. Bielinsky was also able to keep the suspense till the end, even though on the outset, the narrative seems to be a simple setup.

Director Bielinsky diffuses other themes like the treatment of women and the symbiosis between animal and human. The vital & minor characters seem to be men, who had ignored their life-partners or has beaten them down. The romantic potential between Diana and Espinosa is hinted at, but Bielinsky is clever enough to not go down that predictable route. For Diana, the prospect of a new relationship seems to be less intriguing than a life that liberates her from the chains of men. The recurrent close-ups of the ominous dog symbolize the arousing animal side of the protagonist (or his transforming moral sense). The scene where the dog gives a baleful, accusatory look to Espinosa over what unfolded in the woods was one of the few moments that proclaim Bielinsky’s superior directorial abilities.

Music is another strong point of the movie, which heightens the thrilling sensation particularly in two contrasting sequences: when Espinosa trembles with the rifle after sighting the deer; and when Espinosa calmly observes the shoot-up in factory, where people scatter like a deer in the forest. Performances are all top-notch and Ricardo Darin is perfectly convincing as the damaged existential hero. Through limited dialogues, he conveys his characters’ dilemma & unrestrained fantasies. Look out for the sequence when the two thugs take Espinosa into the woods after discovering Dietrich’s cellphone; Darin conveys ingenuity, fear, detachment and deceitfulness within that brief scene.

“The Aura” (134 minutes) is an excellent existential noir and a superior atmospheric thriller. Beneath the film’s taut, simple narrative lie complex, unobtrusive themes and perceptions that perpetually seize us.

Trailer

The Aura aka El Aura -- IMDb

El Aura -- Movies that make you think

Ethiopian film-maker Zersenay Mehari’s feature film debut “Difret”(2014) is the kind of work that amply uses the cinematic medium to shed light on things, which may not have attained the same impact with a public lecture. Early into the film, a fourteen year old girl Hirut Assefa (Tizita Hagere), belonging to a farming community, stands nervously in the classroom as her homeroom teacher is about to tell the test results. After asking few questions he says to Hirut: “I putting in a recommendation to promote you to fifth grade”. As the classes finish, the girl walks with a smile on her face, feeling the cool air on her face, but soon a bunch of pony-riding, gun-toting men kidnap her and escape into the woods. “Difret” of course isn’t a thriller about teen abduction. It is a social drama that condemns the long-held tradition of ‘Telefa’– the practice of abduction for marriage in Ethiopia.

The movie takes place in 1996, a year in which the decision on Hirut’s case criminalized the ‘telefa’ tradition among the villages of Ethiopia (based on the case of Aberash Bekale) [although the abductions for marriage declined vitally after the 1996 case, the practice of ‘telefa’ is said to have increased in recent times]. Hirut’s poor farmer dad wanted his girl to be well-educated. His elder daughter was abucted & married few years before Hirut’s abduction. The kidnapping was in fact seen as a grand romantic gesture and was said to be encourage by village elders. Hirut was locked in a mud-house and in the night she was raped. Next day, her would-would husband announces there is nothing to worry and that they would get married soon and later blessed with a child. Hirut makes her escape by stealing her ‘suitor’s’ gun and when cornered, she shoots and kills him. As per the custom, she has to be immediately killed (by slicing the throat), but the village police takes her in their custody.

Meaza Ashenafi (Meron Getnet), who lives in the capital city of Addis Ababa, works for Andinet Women Lawyers Association, crusading for women’s rights. She calmly handles the blatant sexism thrown at her from every corner. Earlier, we see her handling a domestic abuse case in a dignified & lega manner. When Meaza hears about Hirut, she immediately appears in the village station, but is only met with disdainful answers by DA and local inspector. The law officers suspect that the girl might be 17 or 18 and blocks off medical treatment or bail, claiming that Hirut shot a man in cold blood. They are neither disturbed by Hirut’s abduction nor ready to question the brutal tradition. Meanwhile, village elders convene to impose a harsh punishment on Hirut’s family (for opposing the village custom).

“Difret” is utterly predictable. It mixes the Hollywood legal thriller setup into the docu-drama structure. Director Mehari’s execution, however, is very good at many places and the raw performances by the two lead female characters make us look past few of the narrative turbulence. The real Meaza Ashenafi founded Ethiopian Women Lawyers Association (EWLA) in 1995 and received ‘Hunger Project Award’ in 2003 – known as African Nobel Prize – for advocating women’s rights & empowerment in Ethiopia. Aberash Bekale case (Hirut in the film) is what brought Meaza’s name and her organization to prominence and so Mehari chosen it for his debut narrative. Since, Meaza was a young lawyer (and her organization just started), the struggles and doubts she faces provides for natural story elements.

Director Mehari learned film-making in USC School of the Cinematic Arts (Los Angeles) and has returned back to his country of birth (after working near a decade in Hollywood) to make impactful film on the social issues faced by the African country (the film premiered Sundace Film Festival and shortly before the premiere Angelina Jolie is added as ‘executive producer’). Through “Difret”, Mehari hasn’t portrayed Ethiopia as a nation steeped in out-dated, despicable traditions. He doesn’t even demonize people who strongly believe in the custom of ‘telefa’. He subtly depicts how sexism prevails among the entire top to bottom layers of community, but at the same time the director is smart enough to turn the narrative into a bleak feminist movie, where every male is a misogynist. Hirut’s father and teacher stubbornly fight against the village tradition, just like Meaza.

The scene where the village elders convene to decide on fate of Hirut was one of the powerful sequences in the film. We hear appalling comments from the men gathered, but these people are not demonized for their views. Later, we see Meaza going to the house of a villager, who has vowed to kill Hirut. The man who made caustic remarks earlier doesn’t holler at her and a woman from his family invites Meaza for lunch. It would have very easy to demonize these people, but the director chooses to show them as human beings and also highlights on the villagers’ amazing hospitality tradition. The distressful feelings that mask Hirut, while staying away from the family, were also excellently presented without a strong dose of melodrama. Nevertheless, Mehari’s movie does struggle from few pacing issues and narrative quirks.

The director builds up the intense emotions involved behind Hirut’s case in the final scene, through different people tensely sitting in front of a radio. But, the court proceedings don’t infuse enough tension on the viewer. A witness character is introduced at the last minute and he doesn’t seem to provide any fresh context on Hirut’s struggle. There are few other amateur narrative tropes in the film’s third act that forces us to remember that it is a directorial debut. As I said earlier, the two leads are more than strong. Hagere as Hirut (her bewildered reactions to modern conveniences are a delight to watch) and Getnet as Meaza sensitively explore their respective characters’ inner conflicts without employing easy, over-the-top emotions.

Ethiopian social drama “Difret” (99 minutes), despite few narrative blemishes, valiantly dares at a defective ancient custom and conveys a hopeful message on gender equality.

Trailer

Difret -- IMDb

“Death, grieving, mourning, they are all commonplace. Logic is rare, and so…I dwell on logic” says a 93 year old Sherlock Holmes, with failing memory, to a young boy full of life in Bill Condon’s elegant character study“Mr. Holmes” (2015). Nevertheless, this film is about the celebrated detective coming to terms with those ‘commonplace’, humane feelings. Arthur Conan Doyle’s fictional detective character is one of the most durable and easily adaptable characters in theatrical, cinematic & literary medium. More than dozens of actors have played Sherlock and contemporary authors keep on speculating on the detective’s later year adventures (“Beekeeper’s Apprentice” series by Laurie R. King). Mitch Cullin’s 2005 novel“A Slight Trick of the Mind” is one of those Sherlock spin-offs with a touch of melancholia. Mr. Holmes growing old isn’t entirely a fresh idea for now, but Cullin’s novel isn’t a detective story, unlike the voguish modern versions.

“Mr. Holmes”, based on Cullin’s “A Slight Trick of Mind”, shrewdly performs the difficult task of touching upon the traditional motifs of the famous sleuth, while also travels inward to confront the puzzle-solver’s own emotions. We all know that Conan Doyle’s super-sleuth is the epitome of rationality, but Bill Condon’s movie works its way to showcase how the man's coveted rationality fails or disables him to solve an enigma or a problem. The film starts with very old Holmes (Ian McKellen) arriving at his farmhouse, governed by a brusque housekeeper, Mrs. Munro (Laura Linney) and her effervescent young boy, Roger (Milo Parker). The year is 1947 and Mr Holmes has returned from a tired journey to Japan, in search of ‘prickly ash’. For nearly three decades, Holmes has been a beekeeper and has written a monograph on“The Value of Royal Jelly”. Thanks to Sherlock’s lack of refinement, the farmhouse has seen a succession of exasperated housekeepers.

The latest domestic help, Mrs. Munro isn’t also looking to stay long with the old detective. She already has an offer from hotel owners in Portsmouth. But, her son Roger, whose father was killed in the war, is intrigued by the deduction skills of Holmes and by the recollection of the detective's last case. Of course, the elderly sleuth couldn’t write the story, not just because he has written about his cases (the writings were all taken care of Mr.Watson and the doctor is blamed for having diffusing his own fictional ideas), but because Holmes couldn’t simply remember what happened (and he doesn’t want to leave the world with a ‘sense of completion’). ‘The Royal Jelly’, which is now replaced with ‘Prickly Ash’, is the means to kindle his memory, but the real inspiration comes from Roger. The boy’s innocence and marvelous energy pushes Holmes to journey inward. And, the 30 year old comes back in little pieces. Holmes’ last case, as explained in series of brief flashbacks, is about a young mysterious & melancholic wife Ann Kelmot (Hattie Morahan) and her alleged fixation on glass harmonica.

As in the tradition of spin-offs, Jefrrey Hatcher’s adapted screenplay is filled with revised, cool details. The long gone Dr. Watson is said to have made fictions or created a legend on the detective’s exploits (who of course is itself a fictional character). 221B is portrayed as fake address (once again conceived by Watson) to keep off the general public. Holmes isn’t also as eccentric as his literary counterpart and he was never fixated on the deerstalker hat or the pipe. The script also enhances some of the familiar characteristics of Holmes to generate a bit more poignancy. Holmes loves or endures solitude; he doesn’t have time for nostalgia or grief; and uses people as they seem fit (Holmes’ famous misanthropic view).

“Mr. Holmes” weaves three different story elements -- rendezvous in Japan; friendly relationship with Roger; and the mystery of final case – to explore Holmes’ prickling conscience and how he comes to terms with it, by showcasing real emotions and by concocting a soothing, make-believe story. Of course, Holmes approaches each of the experiences with his trademark cynicism. Holmes’ especially sees Roger as a means to take care of his dying bees. But, gradually Holmes accumulates knowledge from the boy that replaces cynicism with hope and makes him understand grief and yearning. He not only learns about his base human emotions, but also learns to respect others’ grief & desire. There are few rough edges in the way director Bill Condon weaves these series of elements. The way Holmes attains the sense of completion may seem a little contrived, but these are all little blemishes in an otherwise well-made character study.

A lot of viewers might be irked by the fact that “Mr. Holmes” is a character study with no chilling central mystery. As Holmes grasps inside his mind to solve the enigma of Ann, the viewer might be led to think there is indeed a complicated puzzle at the center. However, Ann’s elusive conversation with Holmes simply reiterates the fact that the film isn’t a procedural thriller. Ann’s story is about a woman who desperately wants her feelings to be understood. Her husband Thomas places the blame for Ann’s grief on an eccentric outsider. Holmes approaches Ann with his usual style of rationality, thinking there might be other grave intentions for Ann’s deception. But, there’s no complex, bad intention involved. Ann thinks at least this ‘rational man’ could understand her. However, Holmes patronizing reply (“You have a husband who loves you. Go home to him”) only makes Ann to choose the already made-up decision. Holmes’ coming to terms with Ann’s fate enables him to understand that sometimes lies and genuine display of emotions (like grief which Holmes thinks as a weakness) could really save people from misery. He also learns how clear-cut rationality isn’t always a problem-solver.

The bee vs wasp analogy doesn’t seem to be simple good vs evil struggle. The wipe-out of wasps more or less signals the banishment of Holmes’ unbridled cynical attitude. Or is it a confirmation of Holmes’ belief that ‘Queen, drone, workers’ hierarchy (of bees) is the perfect way of life than the anarchist, self-destructive behavior (of wasps). Whatever it is, it is a great sight to see Holmes in the end, a man who fully embraces the British way of life, to encompass a little of multiculturalism (as he does the stone-placing funeral ritual of the Japanese). Director Bill Condon and veteran actor Ian MacKellen previously collaborated for the semi-fictitious last days of the director James Whale titled “Gods and Monsters”(1998). Condon has adapted the same understated, character driven nature of his previous collaboration with McKellen to “Mr Holmes”. There is nothing ostentatious about the direction, although at times the melodrama gives us a ‘made-for-TV’ feeling. McKellen’s performance takes in all the baggage of his characters’ solitude, offering up poignancy and mature wisdom.

“Mr. Holmes” (105 minutes) lays bare the less explored sides of the much revered Conan Doyle’s character Sherlock Holmes. Those who seek a thrilling mystery must be forewarned, since this is a character study of a highly intellectual man disclosing the frailties of his mortal life.

Trailer

Mr. Holmes -- IMDb

A majority of found-footage genre flicks are a trick that makes us watching the most tedious, uneventful affair. Found footage horror are the worst because a few jump scares and a person running with his camera into the woods pretty much makes up for the story-line. Of the camera crew-following, feature films mockumentary sub-genre because of its facetious or satirical nature. Another sub-genre that creates equal revulsion like found-footage movies is dramedies on romantic relationships. Both the mentioned sub-genres follow a predictable trajectory and the character motivations are easily judged. American independent film-maker Patrick Brice embarked into film-making career by making two features on these detested sub-genres. “Creep” (2014) is about a naive young man, Aaron (Patrick Brice) responding to a Craigslist ad from a creep named Josef (Mark Duplass), while “The Overnight” (2015) is an embarrassment sex comedy about a conservative couple (Adam Scott& Taylor Schilling), who had recently moved up to LA with their young kid, takes over an invitation of a over-the-top weird couple (Jason Schwartzmann& Judith Godreche).

Despite the limitations of such sub-genres, Patrick Brice’s two films unsettle and somehow entertain us. The movies imbue certain familiar elements of the respective genres, but still go on to circumvent the audiences’ expectations. Most importantly, it tests on the viewers’ limitations. Be it the swinging prosthetic penis in“The Overnight” or the sick rape story in “Creep”, Brice takes us into unexpected, blistering territories and tests whether we could watch it in silence. Within this very limited framework, the writer/director creates an incredible amount of tension. I wouldn’t say that these films have set a benchmark for found-footage horror or sex dramedy, but it is an unpredictably entertaining experimental main-stream cinema.

“Creep” and “The Overnight” belong to two opposing genres, but still there are many themes that the movies share. The dreadful feeling of inviting a stranger into one’s life is one of the recurring themes. Young people in both the films seem to be devoid of intuition. They don’t know where to set up the boundaries and how much one is allowed to reveal about themselves to a stranger. While Mark Duplass’ creep character Josef creates enough trust (especially with that cancer story), Jason Schwartzman’s wealthy hippie character Kurt, don’t have an ounce of reliability. Nevertheless, these primary characters confirm and detract from our expectations. The trust issue is raised every time the narrative changes its trajectory. Adam Scott’s Alex & Taylor Schilling’s Emily in “The Overnight” are often confronted with a question of ‘Do I trust these people?’ or ‘believe their words?’ Patrick Brice’s naive, trusting character Aaron in “Creep” in a way looks like a few years younger version of Adam’s equally naive Alex in “Overnight” (of course Aaron could have become like Alex if he had just looked back while sitting on the park bench).

If you had read the plot of both the movies before watching it, then Schwartzmann’s ‘Kurt’ and Duplass’ ‘Josef’ seems to exhibit their intentions in the first time we see them. They seem like the guy who might just bring havoc on their counterparts – conservative young people. But, what’s good about these preordained characters is the way there is a layer of reliability attached to them. They are not caricatures who pursue their alleged intentions with a single-mind. Kurt and Josef open up to us and their counterparts (Alex, Emily & Aaron) to create a dependable quality. At point, we seem to proven totally wrong about these preconceived intentions. Viewers might think that they are trained to think in such a manner. But, then the narrative takes a twist and goes for the usual route and later some unconventional element is diffused. This kind of zig-zagging of character intentions might irk some viewers, raising questions of plausibility (regarding character decisions), but considering the movie’s limited running time and its genre, the plausibility issues aren’t a big bother.

Loneliness and lack of worldliness is some other elements that seem to plague the characters of “Creep” and “The Overnight”. Alex & Emily put up with the increasingly weird antics of yuppie couple to eradicate loneliness and to attain the sense of belonging. Aaron is easily manipulated with little gestures to unworldly decisions. Aaron is the proverbial good guy like Alex and their respective fates are decided by the genre these characters are occupying. “Creep” and “The Overnight” is sprinkled with darkly comic moments, like dancing for children song with ‘peach-fuzz’ mask; or Alex & Emily’s reaction on watching the home-made breast pumping videos.

Experienced actors in both the movies help immensely to elevate Brice’s material. The performances are mostly on-the-set improvisations by the actors, and so the responses and reactions of the characters don’t ring false. The oddball comic skill of Schwartzmann and Taylor Schilling’s perfect horrified reactions are the best in “Overnight”. Mark Duplass in“Creep”brazenly mixes the alpha-male jocularity with the deep-rooted psychosis. Writer/director Patrick Brice did a commendable job, in terms of narrative in “Overnight”, whereas his camera placements are the good thing about“Creep”. Unlike most of the found-footage flicks, Brice’s work offers enough justification on why the camera’s on or why the camera is turned off. As I said earlier, these movies aren’t without flaws. There might be plenty based upon the viewers’ POV, but one glaring flaw I thought was the characterization of Josef in “Creep”. It is good that this guys’ action are unpredictable, but Josef is oddly portrayed as both sociopath and psychopath. The epilogue shot in “Creep” also overly stretches the line of belief.

Patrick Brice’s “Creep” (77 minutes) and “The Overnight” (79 minutes) creates enough tension and are amply laced with black humor to make it a worthwhile movie experience (please remember that these films hail from the most worn-out sub-genre in the whole of cinematic medium).

Trailers

Creep -- IMDb

The Overnight -- IMDb

Between 1942 and 1946, RKO Pictures – one of the ‘Big Five Studios’ of Hollywood Golden Age – produced a string of horror films, whose story-line had the elements of a cheesy pulp fiction. Russian born American producer & screenwriter Val Lewton oversaw these productions (named as head of RKO’s horror unit) and each of the films were made within a budget of $150,000. The studio made sure that the films had a limited running time of 75 minutes or less. The studio-heads also provided the simple, inelegant titles. Lewton’s work is to concoct cheap chillers that turn up huge profits. Lewton immediately hired Jacques Tourneur as director and the duo made “Cat People” in 1942, which earned $4 million (made on budget of $134,000). The next year, the producer-director combination gave two more critical and commercial hits – “I Walked with a Zombie” &“Leopard Man”. Before Lewton was kicked out of the studio in 1946, he gave directing opportunities to Robert Wise (who in his long career directed classics like “West Side Story”, “The Day the Earth Stood Still”, “The Sound of Music”) and Mark Robson (who in his 45 year old career gave us films like “The Seventh Victim”, “Isle of the Dead”, “Von Ryan’s Express”, etc).

“Cat People” (1942) was hailed as one of the great minimalist horror flick (the movie is included in Roger Ebert’s “Great Films”), whose influence is said to have hovered over horror masterpieces like “Jaws”, “Alien”,etc. Tourneur’s “I Walked with a Zombie” (1943) might not have evoked the strong dreamlike power of its predecessor “Cat People”, but it is one of the most significant chillers of the era, which deftly used an ethereal & dark atmosphere as a horror element. Although the film credits Inez Wallace’s story (the script is credited to Curt Siodmak, although Lewton wrote final drafts for his films), it heavily borrows from Bronte’s ‘Jane Eyre’, Daphne du Maurier’ ‘Rebecca’ & Jean Rhys’ “Wide Sargasso Sea”. But these are just passing allusions, because at a 68 minute running time, the studio only wanted a cheap sensationalist visceral film rather than a deep exploration. “I Walked with a Zombie” is in many ways the B-movie it wants to be and it may seem too out-dated for the contemporary viewers, but this film has a lot of sensibilities & great atmosphere, which many of the modern CGI-riddled Hollywood movies lack.

As I said earlier, Tourneur-Lewton didn’t have the time or money to make a staggering opening shot that dwells on the concept or mood of the film. So, they just jump into to the main plot, which is about a young & little naive Canadian nurse Betsy Connell (Frances Dee) accepting her job offer to take care of the wife of a plantation owner in the Caribbean islands. Later, as Betsy makes her trip on the boat, she ruminates on the calm sea, warm wind & on the effervescent sky. A voice cuts short her thoughts and states how putrescence & death hovers all over their surroundings. The voice, which belongs to Mr. Paul Holland (Tom Conway), the plantation owner, says “beauty of nature only serves to disguise death and decay”. May be Paul’s statement on beauty was really about his sick wife, whom Betsy had arrive to take care of.

As Betsy travels to Paul’s house, from the ship, in a coach, she chats up with a native man, who says how his ancestors’ were brought to the islands, chained to the bottom of slave boats. The happy-go-lucky Betsy comments “They brought you to a beautiful place, didn’t they?”. Her naive statement was equally dismaying as Paul’s earlier one in the boat. Both these conversations happen within the movie’s first five minutes. The rest of the film is about how these two people figuratively meet at a mid-way point, casting off their respective unbridled darkness and nonsensical blitheness. Of course there is a significant plot element involving Jessica (Christine Gordon), Paul’s wife, whose ailment had turned her into a zombie (not the flesh-eating Romeroversion; she is just deprived of liveliness). Jessica’s ailment is pertained as an indirect consequence for her affair with Paul’s acerbated half-brother Wesley Rand (James Ellison). Betsy as usual falls for Paul and vows to restore his wife’s health (as an act of love) by seeking all means, including the local belief, voodoo.

Director Jacques Tourneur’s elegant use of light and shadows reminds us of the German expressionist cinema (“The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”, 1919). Most modern day directors insist on a perfect atmosphere to unfold the plot. Tourneur may not have had ample time to explore the distinct character traits, but he was one of the first Hollywood film-makers to use portray the thematic motifs through the deftly laid dark atmosphere. Unlike most of the Hollywood B-movies of the era, which included monsters, vampires or werewolves, Tourneur-Lewton’s works examined real-world fears – like the fear of unknown or some ancient ritual. So, the power of suggestion and the poetic sense of darkness bestow a great effect to the simple plot. One of the much talked about eerie sequence in“I Walked with a Zombie” was Jessica and Betsy’s walk through the sugarcane fields. Tourneur didn’t use any music for this sequence as we could only hear the wind rustling through the fields. Even the sudden, shocking appearance of the skeletal male figure seems to be a part of the mysterious atmosphere rather than jump-scare tactic.

The character introductions are pretty much a stereotypical depiction, but the uncredited Lewton and Siodmak gradually stop these characters from becoming a caricature. There are enough dialogues to unmask a character’s naivety or their insincere attitude. There is no clear-cut protagonist or antagonist as every character (including Mrs. Rand) seems to have a lighter or darker side that opposes their external characteristics. There is also enough narrative ambiguity, especially towards the ending. Is Jessica’s ailment really a punishment of the ancient Gods? Did she face her fate as designed by the dancing voodoo priest or is it her lover’s decision to free her from pain and suffering? Such little obscure narrative elements are what make us to place ‘Zombie’ above other deplorable B-pictures of major Hollywood studios. Lewton & Tourneur must also be commended for their respectful portrayals of non-white characters (which is very rare in those times). The characters might condemn the locals’ rituals as archaic, but the narrative doesn’t pass a easy judgement and never shows the black-skinned people as the sole threatening force.

Despite its B-picture origins, “I Walked with a Zombie” (68 minutes) is a rare perceptive & atmospheric film of quiet horror. Modern horror audience may not find the film interesting, but it might provide an intriguing experience for a cinephile.

Trailer

I Walked with a Zombie -- IMDb

I Walked with a Zombie : The Film Sufi

Kaspar Hauser is one of the most debated individual, whose name immediately provokes both exaggerated accolades and ridicules. This wild-child (alleged) of Germany has inspired a lot of literary works (including many non-fiction works) and a number of documentaries & films. Modern pioneers of medical field are still trying to figure out the origins of Kaspar, while historians have fervently worked in trying to prove or disprove Kaspar’s stories. German auteur film-maker Werner Herzog’s 1974 quasi-biographical film on Kaspar Hauser titled “Jeder fur sich und Gott gogen alle” (in English it means, “Every Man for Himself and God against All”) doesn’t try to unfurl the facts about the wild-child or boy, but it mostly works as a heartrending examination on human nature. The movie was of course known by its international title “The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser” and despite the cynical nature of the original German title, the film encapsulates diverse subject matters and proves to be tricky to categorize.

Herzog’s story inherently believes in Hauser’s alleged origins and mostly omits the viewpoint of Kaspar’s detractors. The director instead offers a profoundly moving account of a society’s failure in recognizing a man for what he is. As usual, Herzog amalgamates his own brand of nihilism with dark humor. Although the film is about human absurdity and the ambiguity of emotions, Herzog imbues images of nature’s overpowering beauty and astoundingly captivates human innocence that stops us from using the words ‘distressing’ or ‘dark’.Addressed by critics as ‘Expressionist Biographical film’, “The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser” commences with the beautiful images of a hazed over man in rowboat, a glowing face of a woman, an ominous tower and a elderly woman rubbing clothes against a washboard. A quavered music plays in the background as a foreword chronicles the appearance of mysterious Kaspar Hauser in a Nuremberg Town Square, in 1828 Germany. The foreword is cut to an awe-inspiring static shot of a windy grain field and a meditative question appears on screen “Don’t you hear that horrible screaming around you? That screaming, men call silence”.

We see a 16 or 17 year Kaspar (Bruno S) chained up like a circus animal in a dungeon shack. Kaspar plays with his wooden horse, which seems to be the only tool of interaction. Then a mysterious man appears who tries to teach him to write & speak. The man releases Kaspar from captivity and instructs him the words ‘I want to be a gallant rider like my father was’. The feral boy was left in a town square, clutching an introductory note. His weird demeanor and inability to converse kindles the townspeople curiosity. The local law and medical officers make a thorough examination of Kaspar and places him in a jail cell. Kaspar learns a little of human moral values when he is placed under the care of a serene family and later also gets to experience the cruel side, when the townsfolk enters him into a freak-show. Kaspar is later adopted by kind & wealthy professor Daumer (Walter Landengast). Under the care of Daumer, Kaspar learns to write and read fluently and also develops a penchant for music. He also takes an unusual viewpoint in explaining the things he sees. Kaspar’s is increasingly agitated as his purest individuality is tried to be confined within the preconceived societal or religious values or trappings.

Kaspar’s caretakers and historians allude that the boy was a pathological liar and that the wounds gained by Kaspar due to various assassination attempts were only self-inflicted (to arouse pity or to suppress the quarrels he had with Mr. Daumer). The theory about self-inflicted wounds and the rumors about Kaspar being the ‘Prince of Baden’ weren’t entirely proven, but Herzog doesn’t waste time on disproving or approving theories or for that matter, he isn’t attempting to depict a historically accurate version of Kaspar Hauser. Herzog is more interested in exploring how a feral boy, with no previous connection with human or earthly things, would see the world or the trappings created by humans in the name of society and religion. While, the international title seems to insist the work as an expose on this mysterious boy, the enigma in the narrative is played out through the eyes of Kaspar Hauser. The people of 1828 Germany might be curious to place Kaspar’s appearance in context, but at the same time Kaspar itself is trying to adjudicate the weird behaviors of the social animals and the mechanism of overpowering nature.

Beneath the oddball nature of Kaspar and absurdity of human conduct, Herzog diffuses an apparent layer through which humanity shines. Kaspar’s tears as he holds the infant (“Mother…I am so far away from everything”); his panic stricken reaction on seeing a chicken; and his moving response on hearing the music are some of the poignant sequences in the film. Renowned critic Roger Ebert calls the film "a lyrical movie about the least lyrical of men” and we could see what he means through some of these sequences. It would be futile for a viewer to approach “Enigma of Kaspar Hauser” as a narrative about the famous historical character. Herzog’s movie tries to offer an assortment of human behavior and splendid images to reflect or illuminate the mystery that lies inside each of us. The story of a desert caravan lead by a blind tribe leader is more about Kaspar trying to figure out the mystery of human condition rather than other way around. Herzog shows how mankind hates ambiguity and its absurdity to approach everything with logic. The professor’s logical question and the final autopsy sequence, followed by the elated reaction of the old man (“What a wonderful, precise report this will make”), portrays how the underlying beauty of things are ruined by simple facts.

Kaspar is the perfect Herzog protagonist. Like all his documentary and feature film characters, Kaspar dreams about escape, only when he is placed into an enormous space, but confined by what’s called as ‘civilization’.Herzog’s visualizes Kaspar’s perplexing thoughts about humans and nature through the obscure, foggy images. His confusing thoughts, however, makes up for some of the film’s excellent humorous reflections. Kaspar’s question to the female house-keeper, “What are women good for?”; his bewildering response about the tower space; the first time he comes across the word ‘emptiness’; and the way he muses “My coming to this world must be a terrible fall”, are my favorite contemplative comical moments. There is also the trademark Herzog sequences of cold philosophical inquiry, but somehow Bruno’s blank-faced vulnerability transcends this coldness.

Herzog never approaches acting in a conventional sense. He doesn’t search for a Daniel Day Lewis, but instead casts performers, who inherently embody the essential part of the central character. Bruno S, a street performer was in real life locked away for 23 years in various mental institutions. Herzog states that Bruno was never insane, although he was little bull-headed and has the stubbornness of a child. So, Bruno isn’t really wearing a performance mask to portray Kaspar. The simplicity, vulnerability and the way he looks at the camera side-wards belongs to Bruno as much as to Kaspar. His reactions to the flame, the line-reading recital, and the manner he reacts after the stabbing are few of Bruno’s wondrous moments, which no other great professional actor couldn’t have imparted easily.

Werner Herzog’s “The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser” (109 minutes) is about a man trying to understand the niggling misfortunes of human existence. It depicts a virtuous individual emotionally touched by the beauty of nature and music, and untouched by degrading human traits such as cynicism, hatred, etc.

Trailer

Kaspar Hauser -- Wikipedia

The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser -- Roger Ebert

The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser -- Film Sufi

The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser -- IMDb

California born Japanese-American film-maker Cary Fukunaga’s“Beasts of No Nation” (2015) opens in some unnamed West African nation, the frames occupied by dilapidated shacks, military outposts and dirt roads, which sort of makes us think ‘oh, not another English language film about African civil wars!’ However, the West African milieu doesn’t cut to silhouette of a White American/British aid worker. We see a jubilant group of small boys walking with an old TV set frame and trying to sell it to people as ‘Imagination TV’. The boys humorously enact soap operas & reality-shows to the men seeing through the frame. An empathetic Nigerian soldier buys off the TV frame and gives away few food parcels to the boy named Agu (Abraham Attah). Later this imaginative boy goes through gruesome experiences that are beyond imagination – his as well as ours.

“Beasts of No Nation” is a film that raises lot of red flags on a movie buff’s mind: It is a film about West African child soldiers made by non-African film-maker; the movie’s cast includes the name of accomplish actor like ‘Idris Elba’; and it starts off with the voice-over of the boy protagonist saying, “Our country is at War”……….”I’m a good boy from a good family”. So the initial setting feels like a conceit. That it is going be another insensitive story about a war-torn African nation with some White savior hovering around an aid camp or UN premises. But, the film keeps on surprising the viewers in constructing an uncompromising nightmare, where the only White faces we see is that of UN workers inside a truck taking pictures of the gun-toting children and traveling in the opposite direction.

On a visceral level, “Beasts of No Nation” could be considered as one of the great works of the year, but its script, based on 2005 Uzodinma Iweala’s novel does get struck in a quagmire, where we feel that movie misses some specifics to become the truly memorable war movie. Fukunaga had maintained ambiguity regarding the backstory of the war to make it a more universal story about the plight of child soldiers. It is great that the writer & director have opted to showcase the broad emotional damage, endured by a child fighter, but I felt that the movie is devoid of a unique perspective to label it as‘great’. The initial sequences are straightforward & simple as we are introduced about the endearing family of Agu.

The sun beautifully shines upon Agu as he has fun with his friends, despite the threat of a war. But since some agreement is broken and the military is about to enter Agu’s town, the elders decide to send away woman and children. The men are asked to stay for protecting their land. However, Agu’s father, brother and other townsmen are rounded up and shot to death. Agu runs into the bush to be found by a warring rebel faction, led by a paternalistic and inherently evil ‘Commanadant’ (Idris Elba). He takes in Agu to train him to be a warrior. And when Agu becomes a fighter he only sees and does more gruesome things. The prospect of getting reunited with mother only gets dimmer for Agu. The sun still shines upon Agu, and this brightness makes the blood shed more nauseating. The light in Agu’s eyes is eventually replaced with an emptiness experienced by a traumatized soldier.

In the middle part of“Beasts of No Nation”, a young boy calls Agu and gives him some brown-brown and a morale booster. Then, Agu’s consciousness gets disoriented as he steps through various bloody fields and sits among another session of Commandant’s lecture. The viewers are able to feel through Agu’s eyes how he loses the sense of time and place. A little later, the visuals itself begin to change color: plants and other surroundings takes on blood-red hue; sky and Earth are painted in sickly gray. Agu seems to have crossed a threshold point that needs some adjusting. Gradually, the color changes and Agu has survived the transformation, and now comes a bloodcurdling, fluid tracking-shot, where the by himself commits the atrocious acts. Such directorial and cinematographic flourish (Fukunaga is also the film’s DoP) is what makes the impact more gruesome and maintains the atmosphere of heightened tension. Some of the violent sequences do threaten to become too exploitative (like the scene where an engineering student’s bald head is cut down with a machete), but most of ‘horrors of war’ scenes imbues the traumatic experience.

By avoiding the details on who is attacking on whom or for why places the viewers in the same confused state as that of Agu. Director Fukunaga while maintaining a brilliant visual style in these sequence, never forgets to tap into the degrading sense of humanism. Fukunaga plays with light right from the start as the film opens in a sun drenched school ground. The recurrent visual motif of a bright sun always hovers around whenever Agu’s emotional state transforms for the worst. In a earlier scene, when Agu and his family is hiding in a dark room, sun shines through the bullet holes; when the panicked members of the room open the door, sun light drenches them as much as the bullets. Fukunaga’s repeated shots of sun could be equated to that of a silently observing God, while the brightly-lit fire (the fire of burned villages; or the heavy fire of artillery) seems to be an all-consuming dark force.

The story behind the conception and making of “Beasts of No Nation” itself seems to be a grim one. Fukunage has written the script for ‘Beasts’ along with his illegal immigrant drama “Sin Nombre”, but the lack of ‘white savior’ character and absence of Hollywood dramatics made studios to pass up the project. Even when the film moved to shooting stages, Fukunaga’s crew have experienced diseases, gone through bureaucratic blows (filmed in Ghana) and near-death experiences. Despite the hardships, the movie didn’t make much in the theaters, although it might reach wider audience base, thanks to the purchase by internet streaming media ‘Netflix’. As in “Sin Nombre” or the TV series“True Detective”, Fukunaga is at his best when he conveys the cult-like ceremonies or when he depicts chaos through those surrealistic tracking-shots. Apart from the stable, maneuvering shots (in the trench, mansion or when Commandant leads his minors’ battalion through the combat-ready streets), Fukunaga wonderfully conveys the movement of time through subtle shots (for example, the scene when Commandant waits in the lobby to meet Supreme Commander).

It is a bold decision to cast a well-known actor like Idris Elba in a significant role (one of the producers too). Elba starts by bringing out his usual brand of magnetic charisma and gradually transforms into a dreadful father figure and as a man blinded by power. Non-professional actor Abraham Attah’s entrenching performance reminds us of young Florya’s experiences in Elem Kilmov’s scathing Russian World War II movie “Come and See”(1985). Attah’s eyes convey how the light is extinguished from his life. The way he delivers those final words to Amy would make even veteran actors envious (“I am like old man and she's like small girl…….you will think that I am sort of beast or devil”).

American film-maker Cary Fukunaga’s “Beasts of No Nation” (137 minutes) is an unflinching take on child soldiers that thankfully lacks emotionally insincere Hollywood elements. Despite few narrative pitfalls, the film immensely succeeds on a visceral level, imparting a tough-to-watch observation.

Trailer

Beasts of No Nation -- IMDb

It is a tricky thing to depict the love felt by a world-weary, middle-aged married woman towards a person other than her husband. On-screen, the love is quickly transmuted to lust and soon the narrative contrives a full-blown affair waiting to annihilate the woman’s familial bonds. But, ‘love’ isn’t just a stepping stone to reach the destination called ‘lust’. Rarely do we come across films that deal with love of a middle-aged married woman without introducing sexual affair in the second act. Jose Mari Goenaga and Jon Garano’s minimalist Basque language movie “Loreak” (“Flowers”, 2014) is the rare, mature work that deals with the slippery feeling love imbues on us. It shows how source of love could emanate from strange things and how love changes one’s perception of others. “Loreak”is also an exploration of loss (death) and lack of communication. Its glacial pace, melancholia and unresolved ending makes it a film for grown-ups and for those vexed by watching inane romantic flicks.

“Loreak” commences with forty plus Ane (Nagore Aranbaru) hearing from the doctor that her menopause has started early. The doctor says there would be few changes like weight gaining and a feeling of melancholia. Ane, an office worker at a construction site, talks little to her husband Ander (Egoitz Lasa), who is glued to the TV screen. She literally has no friends at all to talk about loneliness & grief. But, unexpectedly Ane starts receiving bouquet of flowers every Thursday from an anonymous person. Inquiry at a local flower shop confirms the fact that the one sending flowers is a man. Ane feels pleased by the attention she receives through flowers and starts waiting every week for the courier guy to deliver. Ane places those resplendent flowers in the middle of house, which infuriates her husband. Later, she conceals those flowers and takes them to her office.

The narrative then jumps off to show us the life of toll booth attendant Lourdes (Itziar Ituno), who is married to a crane operator Benat (Josean Bengoetxea). Benat, who works in the same construction site as Ane, spends his day in the crane looking at workers & other things through his binocular. Lourdes has a boy named Mikel from previous marriage, and she is agitated by her mother-in law Tere’s (Itziar Aizpuru) disapproving attitude. The two women are silently fighting over for influence over Benat, while he tries his best to retain harmony between them. Unfortunately, Benat dies in a car accident. His loss makes the two women in his life to confront their feelings they had for him. Ane is also impacted by Benat’s death as she comes across hints that point out Benat might be the anonymous bouquet sender.

For an average moviegoer, “Loreak” might seem like a work where nothing much happens. Of course, it has a very simple story and devoid of any dramatic twists or sentiments. But, the subtle questions the movie raises on love & loss and the manner in which characters are mystified by loss warrants a deep reflection. At one point, Tere says “People don’t die, right until we forget them”. Benat definitely lives in the memory of three women even after his death, although he was ignored & berated when he was full of life. Directors Jose Mari Goenaga and Jon Garano points out the perpetual irony of how our perception of a deceased person varies from the perception we had when they were alive. The film-makers explore the basic restless human nature in search of love and the silent rage one feels when the loved ones die suddenly.

Through the lives of three women, the narrative showcases assortment of emotions like grief, despair, love & hope, but these emotions doesn’t work its way to bring about dramatic, unrealistic changes in the characters’ lives. For Ane, the flowers seem to infuse little color into her drab existence. For Tere, the flowers are the means to cherish the memory of her son, while the same flowers for Lourdes fetches grief and doubt. Despite the obvious symbolization of flowers, its importance changes from the way it is perceived by the characters. The flowers of “Loreak” apart from a being symbol of love transcends into a symbol for death. In one brilliant, symbolical sequence, the image of frozen body of Benat, under the covers (Benat arranged for his body to be donated to medical school) is juxtaposed with the image of drops of dew clinging around the flowers.

Love is portrayed in its original amorphous state in the film. It has tangible presence between husband and wife; mother and son; a woman and secret admirer, but this isn’t the kind of love whose role is determined easily. Love isn’t used to spew out melodrama or to provide grievous twists. It rather connects three fragmented personalities in a way unexpected by viewers. Nevertheless, this linking up love transcends its quality as the ever changing time and environment factors kick in. In the end, grief, love and memories are won over by all consuming force called‘time’, although the film-makers try to instill some hope through that final image of flowers. Garano and Goenaga’s long takes and precise compositions reward the attentive viewers.

In the hands of some other film-maker the tension between the characters might have been used to deteriorate the sense of authenticity. At times, the symbolization seems more than necessary (especially the lamb accident scene), but for the most part the restrained direction eloquently observes things. The performances enhance the impact of the subtle script. The emotions portrayed by three central female characters transcend language barriers. Aranboru excellently brings out Ane’s confused state of love (her melancholic smile tells a lot). Itziar Aizpuru and Itziar Ituno as Tere & Lourdes pretty much play a cliched roles, although the dignity and strength they brought makes their characters three-dimensional beings. The scene where Tere, affected by dementia, and Lourdes converse in the end was brilliantly staged and acted which genuinely earns viewers’ tears.

Basque-language Spanish drama “Loreak” (100 minutes) is an intricate and engrossing exploration of alienation, love and loss. The absence of dramatization and the presence of obscure ideas, a bleak environment might equally irk and reward movie-buffs.

Trailer

Loreak -- IMDb

At an earlier point in James Ponsoldt’s probing character drama “The End of the Tour”, journalist David Lipsky states:“To Read David Foster Wallace was to feel your eyelids open”. Lipsky also describes Wallace’s legacy like this: “We think a thousand things at a time, and David found a way to get all that across in a way that's incredibly true and incredibly entertaining at the same time”. Those words would ring true if you ever start reading Wallace’s works. His immensely complex clauses and meticulous digressions remained inscrutable for me (I haven’t even finished his essay collections and so I think it would be futile to start reading his magnum opus “Infinite Jest”). But, Ponsoldt’s charming human drama urges me to delve more into Wallace’s stubbornly complex prose & mind.

“The End of the Tour” (2015) isn’t a biopic on the genius writer. It is more or less about two intellectual men forming a tentative connection and talking about their own insecurity & identity along with divergent themes like American celebrity culture, pop consumerism, artist’s dilemma, etc. Despite the lengthy conversations, the script (written by Donald Marguilesbased on Lipsky’s 2010 memoir “Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself”) handles the themes deftly, making us to forge an emotional connection. The movie was based on Rolling Stone journalist Lipsky’s five-day road trip (back in 1996) with David Wallace, who is about to end his publicity tour for “Infinite Jest”. The film starts on 2008 as David Lipsky pulls out a cassette tape of his interview his Wallace after hearing the news about Wallace’s suicide. Then, the narrative jumps 12 years back to offer small fragments of David Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg), an ambitious New York intellectual, who has recently published his not-much heralded debut novel “The Art Fair” (in real life, however, ‘Art Fair’ is said to have made into Time Magazine’s “Best Books” for the year).

Lipsky hears about the arrival of a great modern American writer named David Wallace (compared with the likes of Scott Fitzgerald, Salinger, and Hemingway) in his social circle. He immediately picks up “Infinite Jest” and when he is little into the book, Lipsky, the journalist, gets an idea to write a lengthy piece on the author, who is at the peak of his fame. The 30 year old Lipsky persuades his editor about the idea, since Rolling Stone has never written pieces on writers, and then travels to icy mid-western state Illinois to meet the secluded, socially awkward, bandanna-wearing, dog-loving literary legend (played by Jason Segel). Wallace initially seems little reticent and Lipsky does nothing to break the ice as he immediately puts forth a recorder. Nevertheless, the two men gradually start to exchange their perceptions over smoking, junk foods, TV shows, rock-star Alanis Morissette, lack of meaningful relationship, technology, self-doubt, etc. Lipsky also accompanies Wallace to Minneapolis for the publicity tour and witnesses the palpably human side of the author.

“The End of the Tour” pretty much happens in an era, where technological advances haven’t fully consumed our attention. The lack of highly sophisticated gadgets, the presence of cassette tapes and real books makes the conversations riveting (because now it would seem hard for intellectuals to make a lengthy conversation without ever looking at their mobile screen). Although the events took place just a couple of decades before, the narrative feels like throwback to a wholly different world. Director Ponsoldt and writer Marguiles haven’t also turned the film into mind-wrestling game. Despite the array of contemplative questions, the script also departs to showcase the authors’ vulnerability and ironical behavior (‘Mall of America’ sequence was well conceived without becoming self-parody). Ponsoldt and Marguiles also hint at the bond between two men, regardless of their contradictory ideas, but this alleged bond isn’t used to give us a gooey closure (I liked that little anxious moment towards the end where Lipsky tries to hug Wallace, while Wallace remains content with the handshake).

I don’t know much about Wallace’s personal life or haven’t watched his interviews, but still “The End of the Tour” doesn’t come across as a profound account on Wallace. It is mostly Lipsky’s subjective account on Wallace. We also equally learn about the insecurities of Lipsky. We can relate to Lipsky’s experience with Wallace since the movie makes us to think how we would react & feel when we meet our own idols. Lipsky admires as well as envies Wallace (by measuring his success against the genius writer) the same we would when we meet a renowned personality. Wallace is sometimes what Lipsky wants him to be, while at other times incredibly complicated. The conversations also become more interesting since Lipsky is there with a preconceived agenda. Ponsoldt perfectly brings in all these dilemmas and self-awareness into the narrative. The movie also weaves a wonderful message on how our restless pop-culture urges people to move toward simple-mindedness (“the technology’s just gonna get better and better and it’s just going to get easier and easier and more and more convenient and more and more pleasurable to sit alone, with images on a screen given to us by people who do not love us but want our money. And that’s fine, in low doses. But if it’s the basic main staple of your diet, you’re going to die. In a very meaningful way, you’re going to die”).

James Ponsoldt, who has previously directed two spectacular character-driven movies (“Smashed”, “Spectacular Now”), is a huge Wallace fan and so he brings out the humanistic as well as the intelligence side with deftness. It is also nice to see the director not wallowing over the cliches of showcasing the authors’ process of writing or his drinking habits. Jason Segel is excellent as Wallace (this is his most true and breakout performance) as he immensely helps the film to reach its dramatic peaks. Segel has brought the emotional power to the complicated writer, who is trying to give voice to his inner doubts. The perpetual restlessness, media addiction and wise remarks of the author are disclosed with intimate detail.

“The End of the Tour” (106 minutes) is a reflective and engrossing conversational drama which might join the ranks of “My Dinner with Andre”, “Mind Walk” or the “Before Trilogy”. The movie inspires us to tackle David Wallace’s books.

Trailer

The End of the Tour -- IMDb

The Yellow Sea – The Rage of Doomed Men

A Wolf at the Door – An Amorous Turmoil that Huffs and Puffs a Family

The Hedgehog – A Charismatic Tale of Three Misfits

The Harvest – A Maddeningly Mediocre Psychological Horror

My Mother – An Introspective Examination of an Agitated Film-Maker

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl – A Captivating Spin-off on the Apathetic YA Themes

Wake in Fright – The Seminal & Horrifying Outback Classic

When Marnie Was There – A Poetic Tale of Friendship, Loss and Mortality

“Kuttram Kadithal” – A Subtle & Pertinent Social Drama

A Girl at My Door – An Exploration of Female Loneliness & Repression

Riders of the Mist – A Celebration of a Resplendent, Multifaceted Tradition

The Aura – The Existential Stress of a Wallflower

Difret – An Occasionally Clunky Human Interest Movie

Mr. Holmes – A Super Sleuth’s Rendezvous with the Confounding Human Emotions

Patrick Brice’s ‘Ax-Swinger’ &‘Swinger’

“I Walked with a Zombie” [1943] – A Walk amidst an Ominous Atmosphere

The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser – Herzog’s Restrained & Timeless Cinematic Expression

Beasts of No Nation – The Collective Nightmare of Cursed Children

Loreak aka Flowers [2014] – That Tricky Thing Called Love!

The End of the Tour [2015] – An Energetic & Meaningful Dual Character Study