tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21005155149994218022024-03-12T20:07:15.863-05:00The Bourne Cinema ConspiracyNews, reviews, and eclectic film commentary.Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.comBlogger230125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-25432461349947109812016-06-04T23:08:00.000-05:002016-06-04T23:08:05.867-05:00Tale of Cinema 극장전 (Hong Sang-soo, 2005)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(This post is in conjunction with the Museum of the Moving Image's retrospective, "Tales of Cinema: The Films of Hong Sang-soo," screening through June 19. <i>Tale of Cinema </i>screens on June 5, 7pm. For more information on the retrospective, and to purchase tickets, visit the museum's <a href="http://www.movingimage.us/programs/2016/06/03/detail/tales-of-cinema-the-films-of-hong-sang-soo/" target="_blank">website</a>.)</div>
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<em style="border: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26.4px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Tale of Cinema</em><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 26.4px;">, Hong’s sixth feature, is an incredibly witty and playful meditation on the confluence of life and cinema. Over the course of seventeen films, Hong has created a unique and fascinating body of work, unabashedly auteurist and boldly inventive. From the start, Hong’s films existed in opposition to conventional methods of storytelling, and he makes use of a relatively limited set of character types and milieus (usually the filmmaking and academic worlds) to experiment with narrative structure in his films. Recurring patterns of human behavior, character and narrative mirroring, and repetition run throughout his films. Along with that, he offers funny, painful, awkward, and brutally honest depictions of male and female relationships.</span></div>
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<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Tale of Cinema</em> added some intriguing new wrinkles to his cinematic strategy: this time (as the English title makes clear), cinema itself is his main subject matter. Similarly to some of his other films (<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The Power of Kangwon Province</em> [1998], <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Virgin Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors</em> [2000], <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Turning Gate</em>[2002], <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Woman on the Beach </em>[2006]), <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Tale of Cinema</em> makes use of a bifurcated structure with echoes and mirrors in each half. However, while the structures of these other films serve to complicate and deepen our understanding of the characters and their situations, in this film we are invited to reflect on its own status as a cinematic object. To this end, Hong introduced some visual elements that have become stylistic hallmarks of his subsequent films, most prominently the frequent use of the zoom lens. The first time I saw <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Tale of Cinema </em>(at the 2005 New York Film Festival), I found this quite disorienting, since Hong’s visual style up to that point consisted of minimal camera movement and practically no optical effects. Also new for Hong was the use of a voiceover and much more liberal use of non-diegetic music. All of these elements, including quotes from, and echoes of, his earlier films in <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Tale of Cinema</em> serve to enhance our awareness that we are indeed watching a film, making what happens to the main character perhaps a cautionary tale.</div>
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<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Tale of Cinema</em> has a loose, improvisational, and comic feel that is quite charming. In the first part of the film, an aimless student (Lee Ki-woo) meets up with a young woman (Uhm Ji-won) he has known in the past, and convinces her to join him in his quest to kill himself. However, things don’t quite go according to plan, as they often do in Hong’s films. In the second half, Tong-su (Kim Sang-kyung), a failed filmmaker, has become convinced that his successful and celebrated film-school classmate has stolen his life story to make one of his films. After watching this film again at a retrospective devoted to the director, he spots the film’s lead actress (Uhm Ji-won again) outside the theater, and begins to doggedly pursue her. For those who haven’t yet seen <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Tale of Cinema</em>,<em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </em>I won’t reveal the connection between these two halves, since that would lessen the sense of discovery that is at the heart of this film’s considerable charm. Those familiar with Hong’s previous films will sense a subtle optimism that doesn’t exist in his earlier films. Hong, as usual, elicits engaging performances from his leads, Lee Ki-woo a natural as the childish and self-involved suicidal young man, Kim Sang-kyung (who also starred in <em style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Turning Gate</em>) quite funny as the bizarre (and possibly delusional) wannabe director, and especially the strikingly beautiful Uhm Ji-won, who deftly pulls off her tricky dual role.</div>
Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-65788376838282399702014-11-08T17:50:00.000-05:002014-11-08T17:50:36.013-05:00San Diego Asian Film Festival 2014 Review: Tsai Ming-liang's "Journey to the West"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Journey to the West (Xi you)</b>. 2014. Written and directed by <b>Tsai Ming-liang</b>. Produced by <b>Vincent Wang</b> and <b>Fred Bellaiche</b>. Cinematography by <b>Antoine Heberle</b>. Edited by <b>Lei Zhen Qing</b>. Music by <b>Sebastien Mauro</b>. Sound engineering by <b>Frederic Salles</b>. Sound editing by <b>Xavier Dreyfuss</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Lee Kang Sheng</b>, <b>Denis Lavant</b>.<br />
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(Note: this review was originally posted on <a href="http://blog.asianinny.com/films/film-review-journey-to-the-west-by-tsai-ming-liang/" target="_blank">Asian in NY</a>.)<br />
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At last year’s Venice Film Festival, where Taiwanese master auteur Tsai Ming-liang’s most recent feature <i>Stray Dogs</i> premiered, Tsai announced that it would be his last. And indeed, <i>Stray Dogs</i>, which contained references to just about every other film in his oeuvre and featured most of his regular actors, did have the feel of a final statement. However, this was before Tsai won the Grand Jury Prize at Venice, so it remains to be seen whether this will encourage him to continue, and prove his “retirement” to be as lasting as Steven Soderbergh or Jay-Z’s.<br />
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The most hopeful sign that this will be the case is the fact that just a few months after Venice, at the Berlin Film Festival, Tsai debuted another major work, <i>Journey to the West</i>, a sublime, contemplative creation that is one of his finest. Of course, this is not to be confused with Stephen Chow’s recent big-budgeted blockbuster hit of the same name. Other than the fact that the two films share a title and are based in their own ways on the same classic Chinese narrative, you’d be hard-pressed to come up with two works more dissimilar, or that seem more to exist in separate universes.<br />
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Tsai’s <i>Journey to the West </i>evades any sort of easy classification. At just a few minutes shy of an hour, it doesn’t quite qualify as a feature. It also exists far outside the realm of narrative cinema, and is more akin to an art installation.<br />
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This is the sixth in Tsai Ming-liang’s series of short films starring his regular lead actor/perennial muse Lee Kang-sheng as a slow-walking monk making his travels in various urban centers around the globe. This ongoing project was inspired by a performance Lee gave in a stage play Tsai wrote and directed called “Only You,” in which Lee walked very slowly on the stage. As Tsai writes in his statement included in the <i>Journey to the West</i> press notes: “His performance was so perfect that I decided to film it. His walking, so special and so slow, recalls that of Xuanzang, the holy monk of the Tang Dynasty, who traveled thousands of kilometers seeking the holy scriptures.”<br />
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The series began with Tsai’s 2012 short “Walker,” shot in Hong Kong, which established the template: Lee Kang-sheng, dressed in red monk’s robes, barefoot, head down and arms out in a supplicating gesture, walks very, very slowly, his infinitesimal progress across the frame existing in sharp contrast to the bustle of the city and the people around him. Lee represents a meditative oasis in the midst of the rapid activity that surrounds him, and the films are the apotheosis of Tsai’s inimitable style of wordless contemplation, his riposte to the fast-cutting and over-plotted narrative noise of most other films.<br />
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<i>Journey to the West</i> moves the (non)action to Marseille, France, and this time Lee’s monk gains a disciple of sorts, in the person of inimitable French actor Denis Lavant, best known for his collaborations with iconoclastic French auteur Leos Carax (<i>Lovers on the Bridge</i>, <i><a href="http://film-forward.com/star-reviews/holy-motors" target="_blank">Holy Motors</a></i>). The film consists of 14 shots, most of them relatively brief, save for two lengthy centerpiece scenes. It begins with a very long shot, a nearly ten-minute close-up of Denis Lavant’s face as he is reclining. With the only sounds on the soundtrack Lavant’s labored breathing, we are invited to contemplate every wrinkle and crevasse on Lavant’s uniquely craggy visage. In this and every subsequent shot, Tsai challenges us to view images in a very different way than we are used to, the regard the act of seeing as a sort of contemplative meditation, the slowness and austerity of the shot forcing us to engage actively with the image, rather than be a passive consumer, as in most other films. In this goal, Tsai succeeds immensely, with exquisitely composed artistry and rather unexpected humor.<br />
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The film’s two longest shots perfectly illustrate this. The film’s longest shot is a nearly 20-minute shot of Lee slowly descending a staircase down into a subway, the camera imperceptibly moving to capture his deliberative descent. The delicate movement, colors, and composition of the frame is mesmerizing and simply stunning. Sunlight shines in a halo surrounding the monk, as dust motes fly in the air. The reactions of the people who go past him are also fascinating to watch. The monk mostly has the side of the staircase he is descending to himself, as most of the other commuters going into the subway regard him as an obstruction to get around, and a brief object of curiosity. The only person who regards him closely is a little girl who lingers at the top of the stairs, staring at him curiously as she seemingly waits for a relative to pick her up.<br />
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The other long scene features Levant; before this, Lee and Levant are kept apart, existing in separate shots or in scenes where Levant is close to the camera while Lee is a figure in the distance. However, in a long scene in front of an outdoor café, Lee does his slow walk in front of a group of curious and amused onlookers and passerby. As Lee walks, Lavant suddenly appears behind him, walking slowly as well, mirroring Lee’s slow movement almost perfectly, his mimicry a supreme expression of inspired devotion.<br />
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<i>Journey to the West</i> ends with its most surprising and striking shot, an upside-down view of a scene, where the mirrored surface of a canopy occupies three quarters of the frame. We scan the scene for the iconic red-robed monk, but we don’t find him. After awhile, the familiar presence appears, entering the upper right of the frame. And with that the film ends, with this postscript from Tsai, quoting the Diamond Sutra:<br />
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<i>All composed things are like a dream,</i><br />
<i>A phantom, a drop of dew, or a flash of lightning,</i><br />
<i>That is how to meditate on them,</i><br />
<i>That is how to observe them. </i><br />
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This perfectly expresses the philosophy behind, and the beauty of, the sublime cinema art Tsai Ming-liang has been creating for over two decades. Hopefully, this isn’t the last we’ve heard from this endlessly brilliant artist of cinema.<br />
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<i>Journey to the West </i>screens on November 10, 8:40pm as part of the San Diego Asian Film Festival, preceded by the short "Walker." For more information, and to purchase tickets, visit the festival's <a href="http://festival.sdaff.org/2014/films/journey-to-the-west/" target="_blank">website</a>.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Y3h0WiMMOUE" width="440"></iframe>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-89255934428533759862014-11-04T23:32:00.000-05:002014-11-04T23:32:31.413-05:00San Diego Asian Film Festival 2014 Review: Lou Ye's "Blind Massage"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Blind Massage (Tui na)</b>. 2014. Directed by <b>Lou Ye</b>. Produced by <b>Wang Yong</b>. Written by <b>Ma Yingli</b>, based on the novel "Tui na" by <b>Bi Feiyu</b>. Cinematography by <b>Zeng Jian</b>. Edited by <b>Kong Jinlei</b> and <b>Zhu Lin</b>.<b> </b>Music by <b>Johann Johannsson</b>. Production design by <b>Du Ailin</b>. Costume design by <b>Zhang Dingmu</b>. Sound by <b>Fu Kang</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Qin Hao</b>, <b>Guo Xiaodong</b>, <b>Huang Xuan</b>, <b>Zhang Lei</b>, <b>Mei Ting</b>, <b>Huang Lu</b>, <b>Jiang Dan</b>, <b>Huang Junjun</b>, <b>Mu Huaipeng</b>, <b>Wang Zhihua</b>, <b>Wang Lu</b>.<br />
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(Note: this review was originally posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/2014/07/nyaff-2014-review-blind-massage-an-artful-and-affecting-ensemble-drama.html" target="_blank">Twitch</a>.)<br />
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Often controversial Chinese filmmaker Lou Ye delivers one of his finest films with <i>Blind Massage</i>, a delicately observed and artfully directed ensemble drama, based on the novel of the same name by Bi Feiyu. Putting aside, at least for the time being, the intensely sexualized scenarios that marked some of his previous films (<i>Summer Palace</i>, <i>Spring Fever</i>, <i>Love and Bruises</i>, <i>Mystery</i>), Lou immerses us in a unique world - that of the blind - that's never been captured on film in quite this way. Sighted professional actors playing blind, including some Lou regulars, mesh seamlessly with actual non-sighted and partially-sighted amateurs to create a broad canvas encompassing several stories that are all engrossing and beautifully rendered.<br />
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<i>Blind Massage</i> begins with an offscreen narrator (who is heard intermittently throughout the film) telling the story of Xiao Ma (Huang Xuan) who lost his sight in a car accident that killed his mother. After he learns that his blindness is permanent and not a temporary condition as he'd been led to believe, he attempts suicide by cutting his own throat. After being saved, he is taught Braille and later joins the Sha Zongqi Massage Center in Nanjing, where blind and partially sighted masseurs and masseuses service customers and are provided with a home and livelihood. This is also where most of the action in the film takes place, in this bustling, crowded environment where joys, pain, and passions play themselves out in a way that is quite mesmerizing to behold.<br />
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After the opening credits - which, appropriately in a film about the blind, are read aloud rather than printed onscreen - we are introduced to the other workers and residents of the center. As the narrator tells us, the film initially takes place in the "golden age of blind massage." The center is run by two men with opposite personalities: the garrulous, self-styled ladies man Sha Fuming (Qin Hao) and the more subdued and serious Zhang Zongqi (Wang Zhihua). Sha's old classmate Wang (Guo Xiaodong), fleeing Shenzhen with his tail between his legs after losing his shirt on bad stocks, asks Fuming for a job, since Wang is also a trained masseur.<br />
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Wang brings along his fiancé, the partially sighted Kong (Zhang Lei), a sassy and flirtatious young woman who very quickly becomes Xiao Ma's object of erotic obsession. Sensing Xiao Ma's frustration over his unrequited desire, his friend Zhang Yiguang (Mu Huaipeng) takes him to Nanjing's red-light district, and to a very different kind of massage parlor, where Xiao Ma meets Mann (Huang Lu), a beautiful young prostitute; they soon forge a much closer relationship than the normal hooker-client one. However, Xiao Ma still can't let go of his feelings for Kong.<br />
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Meanwhile, Fuming falls head over heels for a new masseuse, Du Hong (Mei Ting); she fends off his advances, and generally finds the other male workers' obsession with her beauty to be a burden. Also, Wang has to defend his younger brother from some scary loan sharks; he backs them off by performing a startlingly violent and rather gory bit of self-sacrifice.<br />
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Lou Ye and screenwriter Ma Yingli weave all these stories together with sensitivity, compassion, and an elegant artistry that is often stunning. In a presumably similar way to Bi Feiyu's source material, these blind characters are not held up as objects of pity nor are their stories presented as vehicles for cheaply inspirational uplift. Instead, they appear to us as full human beings, with the same joys, laughter, pains, suffering, and sexual desires as so-called "normal" people. They're not over-romanticized, either; some of them are seen committing some rather negative and unsavory acts. At the same time, the dignity with which they practice their craft and carry themselves is quite remarkable; one of the films' best scenes has the blind workers leading sighted visitors safely out of the building during a blackout.<br />
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<i>Blind Massage</i> also finds a wonderful way to approximate for sighted viewers the experience of blindness; vertiginous close-ups, blurry and impressionistic visual textures, and odd angles form a great deal of the visual schema of the film. This is a great testament to the talents of cinematographer Zeng Jian, who won a Silver Bear for Outstanding Artistic Contribution at this year's Berlin Film Festival for his work. Also contributing greatly to the evocative mood is Icelandic composer Johann Johannson - who also scored Lou Ye's previous film <i>Mystery </i>- who provides a spare, minimalist score that beautifully undergirds the rich landscape of human emotions that Ye and his collaborators have so vividly created.<br />
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<i>Blind Massage </i>screens on November 8, 3:45pm as part of the San Diego Asian Film Festival. For more information and to purchase tickets, visit the festival's <a href="http://festival.sdaff.org/2014/films/blind-massage/" target="_blank">website</a>.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/9-QtVF83HtY" width="440"></iframe>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-13500497431916101742012-12-30T02:00:00.000-05:002012-12-30T02:02:59.011-05:00Review: Jang Jin's "Good Morning President"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Good Morning President</b>. 2009. Written and directed by <b>Jang Jin</b>. Produced by <b>Lee Taek-dong</b>. Cinematography by <b>Choi Sang-ho</b>. Edited by <b>Kim Sang-beom</b>. Music by <b>Han Jae-gweon</b>. Production design by <b>Kim Hyo-shin</b>. Sound by <b>Im Hyeong-geun </b>and <b>Choi Tae-yeong</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Jang Dong-gun </b>(Cha Ji-wook), <b>Lee Sun-jae </b>(Kim Jeong-ho), <b>Goh Doo-shim </b>(Han Gyeong-ja), <b>Lim Ha-ryong </b>(Choi Chang-myeon), <b>Han Che-young </b>(Kim Yi-yeon).<br />
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Now that South Korea has just elected its first woman president, Park Geun-hye, now would be a good time to look back on a Korean film that imagined, or maybe anticipated, such a thing happening: Jang Jin's 2009 film <i>Good Morning President</i>. This was an entertaining, gently satirical portrait of Korean politics by one of that country's top commercial directors. I saw this film when it opened the Busan International Film Festival (then "Pusan") in 2009. During the press screening and conference earlier that day, Jin had some choice words concerning Ms. Park's father, 1960's and 70's dictatorial president Park Chung-hee. Below is the review of the film I wrote at that time.</div>
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Jang Jin’s latest film, <i>Good Morning President</i>, the
opening night film of this year’s Pusan International Film Festival (PIFF), is
above all else a slickly packaged entertainment, a diverting work that
solidifies this popular director’s unerring commercial instincts. If that sounds like a somewhat backhanded
comment, let me assure you that it isn’t; the ability to deliver an effective
crowd-pleaser can be an achievement as worthy of praise as any art film
director’s attempt to create an auteurist masterwork. Jang certainly delivered the goods with his
new film. As of this writing, <i>Good
Morning President </i>is currently the top film of the Korean box office,
remaining in that position for two weekends now since its release on October
23, handily overcoming stiff competition from very high-profile foreign
releases, including the Michael Jackson concert documentary <i>This Is It</i>.<br />
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Jang’s film
is a panoramic portrait of the political and personal lives of three successive
fictional Korean presidents: Kim Jeong-ho (Lee Sun-jae), who at the outset is
on his way out of office; his much younger successor Cha Ji-wook (Jang
Dong-gun), dubbed “the Korean JFK”; and Korea’s first woman president, Han Gyeong-ja
(Goh Doo-shim). If any political satire
(which Jang’s scenario would seem ripe for) exists here at all, it’s of the
gentlest kind possible; one imagines what a more irreverent director, for
example Im Sang-soo (<i>The President’s
Last Bang</i>), would have done with this material. As Jang himself said at the press conference
for his film, his interest mostly lies in delving into the personal lives of the
political figures he examines, and bringing the often remote personage of the
Korean president down to a much more human level. The three presidents of Jang’s film are shown
struggling to balance their responsibility to look after and protect their
citizens with the demands of their private lives. Much of the humor of the film, as well as its
more emotional moments, arises from the conflicts that result from these
opposing personal/political forces.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<st1:country-region>Korea</st1:country-region> is a very old country with a very young
democracy; its first democratically elected president, Roh Tae-woo, took office
in 1988. <st1:country-region>South Korea</st1:country-region>’s preceding presidents were essentially
dictators in all but name; the last two that preceded Roh, Park Chung-hee and
Chun Doo-hwan, seized power in military coups.
Jang mentioned in the press conference that he grew up in the era of
Park Chung-hee, who despite the reforms he instituted that brought rapid
technological advances to Korea in the 1970’s, was also a very socially
repressive and despotic figure who smothered any political or cultural elements
that he considered a threat to his hegemony.
Jang talked of the oppression he personally felt living through this
period; we can infer from this that “Good Morning President”<i> </i>is
in part a celebration of the fact that with democracy, the president is now a
much more humane figure, more accessible to the people he (or she, in this
film) serves and far more accountable to them.
This by no means should imply that <st1:country-region>South Korea</st1:country-region> is now an idyllic paradise; Jang doesn’t
lose sight of the country’s political problems.
If one could anthropomorphize South Korean democracy, it would currently
be a 21-year old; the growing pains and relative immaturity of such a person is
sometimes observable in Korean politics.
And though Jang does not dwell on this, he is clearly aware of that
fact, and it gives a definite frisson to the comedic elements of his film.<o:p></o:p></div>
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While this year’s PIFF had much more
visually inventive and formally daring films, <i>Good Morning President </i>was
a good choice with which to open the festival, a superior commercial
entertainment that was a tasty appetizer to the more substantial meals offered
afterward. I would be remiss here not to
mention the great cast Jang has assembled, starting with Jang Dong-gun as Cha
Ji-wook, making a very high-profile return to the screen after a four-year
absence. Jang is much more than a handsome
face here (although that is certainly an attraction, especially for his female
fan base); he nicely conveys the slick operator as well as the more genuine
person that coexists within his character.
Goh Doo-shim is also fascinating as the Korean female president;
although it is admirable that Jang doesn’t unduly underline her status as such,
one wishes Jang offered some more pointed commentary on how her character
navigates <st1:country-region>Korea</st1:country-region>’s still rather patriarchal society.
Nevertheless, Goh provides much heart to her role, and she works well
with Lim Ha-ryong, who plays the first husband, and who is more often than not
an embarrassment to the president. (If
Cha Ji-wook is the Korean JFK, then President Han’s husband is the Korean Billy
Carter or Roger Clinton.) Their
love/hate relationship provides very potent comedic and romantic sparks to the
film. The beautiful Han Che-young also
shines in her much more limited role as President Han’s spokesperson and
President Cha’s old flame.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-70041251903865819292012-12-02T06:33:00.001-05:002012-12-02T06:33:54.346-05:00The Bourne Cinema Filmography: Zhang Yimou, "Red Sorghum" (1987)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Red Sorghum (Hong gao liang)</b>. 1987. Directed by <b>Zhang Yimou</b>. Written by <b>Chen Jianyu</b>, <b>Zhu Wei</b>, and <b>Mo Yan</b>, based on the novel "Red Sorghum Clan" by <b>Mo Yan</b>. Produced by <b>Wu Tian-ming</b>. Cinematography by <b>Gu Changwei</b>. Music by <b>Zhao Jiping</b>. Art direction by <b>Yang Gang</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Gong Li </b>(Jiu'er), <b>Jiang Wen </b>(Yu), <b>Liu Ji </b>(Father), <b>Teng Ru-jun </b>(Luohan), <b>Ji Cun-hua </b>(Sanpao).<br />
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Adapted from a section of <i>Red Sorghum Clan</i>, a multi-volume novel by Mo Yan, this year’s recipient of the Nobel Prize in literature, Zhang Yimou’s 1987 film <i>Red Sorghum</i> put the Fifth Generation of Chinese filmmakers solidly on the world cinema map. (Remarkably, this was a fast book-to-film adaptation; both the novel and the film version were released in the same year.) Winning the Golden Bear at the 1988 Berlin International Film Festival, <i>Red Sorghum</i> was an auspicious debut for both cinematographer-turned-director Zhang and its young lead actress Gong Li. Zhang would go on to make more accomplished films, and Gong would grow more into the luminous beauty she is today, but <i>Red Sorghum</i> shows that they were beginning from an already elevated level.<br />
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Red Sorghum is set in the 1920s and 1930s in Shandong, a northeastern province of China. This is immediately set up as a memory piece, through the voiceover of a man who tells us that what we are seeing will show how his grandparents met and how his father was conceived. The unnamed and unseen narrator’s grandmother is Jiu’er (Gong Li), or “Nine,” whom we first see getting ready to be taken by a palanquin to her new husband, a leprous older wine merchant named Li Datou. This is an arranged marriage set up by her parents, and one she is an unwilling participant in. As the title indicates, red is an important and dominant color in the film, and this is the color of the interior of the sedan, as well as the color of the veil placed over Jiu’er’s head during the trip.<br />
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The narrator tells us that his grandfather is Yu (Jiang Wen), one of the men hired to carry Jiu’er to her husband. In a sequence that introduces the earthy bawdiness of this tale, Yu leads the rest of the muscular, shirtless men in a song that attempts to get a rise out of the impassive Jiu’er, as they tease her about her marriage, and jostle the car violently about as they sing. Jiu’er’s sobs and impending motion sickness eventually get them to stop. The travelers are soon waylaid by a bandit who tries to rob them and rape Jiu’er. Jiu’er, who has been exchanging surreptitious glances at Yu through the whole trip, throws bold glances at him as she is ordered out of the car by the bandit, wordlessly challenging him to save her. Yu rises to the occasion, overpowering the bandit with the help of the other men. Later in the film, after Jiu’er has been living at the winery for some time, Yu, wearing a bandit’s mask, abducts Jiu’er on her way home from a visit to her parents, and in a scene with intimations of rape (although Jiu’er doesn’t seem to be unwilling), he proceeds to have sex with her in a Sorghum field. This, the narrator tells us, is where his father was conceived.<br />
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Jiu’er, despite being forced into marriage, and twice carried by men in their arms like a potato sack, is no mere passive victim. She is a headstrong, argumentative woman, who at one point condemns her father for essentially selling her to an older man in exchange for a new mule. After Li Datong is murdered offscreen under mysterious circumstances (the narrator suspects his grandfather, though we never learn who did it), Jiu’er takes over the winery, and in contrast to their previous dictatorial owner, runs it as a collective with the workers as equal partners with her. This puts <i>Red Sorghum</i> solidly on good footing with Communist ideology, as the proletariat defeats evil capitalism, at least for a time. Yu drunkenly returns to proclaim himself Jiu’er’s new husband; though she throws him out at first, he is later able to claim his prize, after peeing in the vats of wine, which (in an example of the film’s bawdy and absurd humor) improves the flavor of the wine, and contributes to the great success of the winery.<br />
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<i>Red Sorghum</i> takes a dramatic shift from the humorous, almost fairy-tale quality of the earlier sections, to a much more violent and tragic tone, as the Japanese invade China, destroying the winery in the process. This shift is abrupt and awkwardly handled, highlighting the narrative weaknesses of the film. The Japanese are portrayed as violent and sadistic oppressors, punishing men by having them hanged and skinned alive like animals, and forcing the Chinese to do this to their own. Jiu’er and Yu lead an attempt to fight back against the Japanese, which sets the stage for the tragic ending to the film.<br />
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<i>Red Sorghum</i> has been justly celebrated for its visual quality; Zhang’s experience as a cinematographer makes sure that the film is no less than ravishing in its sensual use of color. For this film, Zhang employed Gu Changwei, another talented cinematographer who went on to become a remarkable director himself. The natural beauty of the landscape, the nearly documentary-like details of the wine production, and the full use of the symbolism of the color red – blood, the Japanese flag, the final red-drenched closing scenes – all of this makes <i>Red Sorghum</i> a veritable feast for the eyes.<br />
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The performances in the film are just as riveting as the visuals. Gong Li, though she would make a greater impression in later films by Zhang and others, is already in full command of the screen, a master of the portentous glance and sensual expression. Her ecstatic expression as she is seduced by Yu is one of the film’s most memorable shots. Jiang Wen as Yu wonderfully conveys the brutal animal-like nature of his character, although he is not portrayed as an evil person, and indeed displays heroic qualities throughout the film.<br />
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<i>Red Sorghum</i> screens at Asia Society, on 35 millimeter, on December 2, 4pm as part of the impressive film series “<a href="http://asiasociety.org/arts/film/goddess-chinese-women-screen-film-series" target="_blank">Goddess: Chinese Women on Screen</a>,” which runs through December 8. For more information, visit Asia Society’s <a href="http://asiasociety.org/new-york/events/red-sorghum-film-screening" target="_blank">website</a>.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/02D6sfEtckA" width="440"></iframe>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-27109946083424452812012-11-23T17:27:00.000-05:002012-11-23T17:28:54.359-05:002012 African Diaspora International Film Festival Reviews: "La Playa D.C." and "Toussaint Louverture"<br />
The 20th edition of the <a href="http://nyadiff.org/" target="_blank">African Diaspora International Film Festival</a> screens in New York from November 23 through December 11, 2012 at Teachers College at Columbia University, Symphony Space, NYIT Auditorium on Broadway, The Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, and the Black Spectrum Theatre. Below are reviews of two major highlights of this year’s festival.<br />
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<b>La Playa D.C.</b> (Juan Andres Arango, Colombia, 2012)<br />
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Chosen as an official selection of the Un Certain Regard section of the year’s Cannes Film Festival, <i>La Playa D.C.</i> marks an auspicious debut of 35-year old director Arango, who delivers a unique vision, by turns harrowing, heartrending, and humorous, of his native Colombia. He transforms the familiar coming-of-age story with wonderfully evocative cinematography by Nicolas Canniccioni which vividly renders Bogota’s unique geography of harsh concrete jungles surrounded by lushly verdant greenery, as well as a pulsating hip-hop soundtrack that perfectly mirrors the restlessness of the film’s characters. <i>La Playa D.C.</i> follows Tomas (Luis Carlos Guevara), a 13-year old Afro-Colombian whose life experience makes him seem much older, and his struggles to keep his head above the dangerous waters of poverty, drugs, and street life in the capital. His family was forced to flee the civil war on Columbia’s Pacific coast, eventually making their way to Bogota. Tomas’ older brother Chaco (James Solis) has recently returned from being deported from “El Norte,” i.e. the US, and is saving money to return to his family’s hometown, and perhaps make a second attempt to escape the country. His younger brother Jairo (Andres Murillo) has succumbed to crack addiction and now owes a debt to drug dealers after smoking away the product he was meant to sell. With a mostly ineffectual mother and a hostile stepfather, Tomas is forced to take to the streets to survive. He hopes to make a living with his artistic skills in a very specific way: carving out elaborate haircut designs for the young Afro-Colombian teenagers who adopt this as a major part of their fashion and cultural identity. Arango is especially adept at giving us a visceral sense of how this community is looked upon as outsiders in their own country and subject to race-based hostility. This is pertinently illustrated in one scene in which Tomas and Chaco are chased out of an upscale mall by security guards solely based on their physical appearance. <i>La Playa D.C.</i> gives us a glimpse of a nation that is woefully underrepresented in world cinema, and it excels in immersing us in its environment with stylistic flair and humanistic sensitivity.<br />
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(<a href="http://nyadiff.org/la-playa-dc/" target="_blank">Nov. 24, 6pm and Dec. 3, 8pm</a>)<br />
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<b>Toussaint Louverture</b> (Philippe Niang, France/Haiti, 2012)<br />
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This year’s festival centerpiece, this two-part, three-hour epic made for French television, represents, as far as I know, the first successful attempt to get the story of the famous Haitian revolutionary leader who organized a famously successful slave revolt and eventually won Haiti’s independence from France. Actor Danny Glover, among others, has tried for decades to create a cinematic rendering of this historical figure. This production is mostly successful in rendering the scope of this remarkable man’s life, as well as the complicated political and military machinations necessary for Louverture to free his people. Shot in France and Martinique, Haiti itself being unsuitable for actual location shooting, the film’s budgetary limitations are fairly obvious, most notably in the lack of elaborate battle scenes. This is especially unfortunate, since Louverture was as renowned for being a canny military strategist as he was for being a freedom fighter. Someone more versed in Haitian history than I am will have to judge whether, and how much, narrative compression and dramatization have come at the expense of historical accuracy. Still, Toussaint Louverture does a very good job in illustrating the complex thicket of racial politics and strategic alliances that went into the process of Haiti’s independence. Also, Jimmy Jean-Louis is a riveting presence as Louverture, and brings an impressive sense of gravity and a sense of the human being behind the historical figure.<br />
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(<a href="http://nyadiff.org/special-event-adiff-centerpiece/" target="_blank">Dec. 1, 5pm</a>)<br />
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For more information on these and other festival films, and to purchase tickets, visit <a href="http://nyadiff.org/" target="_blank">ADIFF’s website</a>.<br />
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<br />Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-22085523513542790582012-06-30T06:00:00.000-05:002012-06-30T06:00:52.510-05:00New York Asian Film Festival 2012: Review RoundupThe New York Asian Film Festival kicked off last night, and it will continue at the Walter Reade Theater, Japan Society, and Tribeca Cinemas through July 15. <a href="http://www.subwaycinema.com/nyaff12/" target="_blank">Click here</a> for more info and to purchase tickets.<br />
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My NYAFF 2012 preview is now up over at <a href="http://film-forward.com/film-festival/new-york-asian-film-festival" target="_blank">Film-Forward</a>. Below are brief reviews of the opening night films.<br />
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<b style="background-color: white;"><i>War of the Arrows</i></b><span style="background-color: white;"> (Kim Han-min)</span><br />
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A costume drama of breathless immediacy, Kim’s third feature employs the Manchu War of 1636, during which the Qing Dynasty of China invaded and enslaved hundreds of thousands of Koreans, as the backdrop for thrilling chases and convincing scenes of archery. The second half of the film is basically an extended chase scene, and the opening sequence hits the ground running, as an accused traitor is hunted down and executed in front of his two children, themselves in hiding from the authorities. Cut to 13 years later, and the two grown-up siblings Nam-Yi (Park Hae-il) and his younger sister Ja-in (Moon Chae-won) have been raised by friends of their father, with Ja-in about to marry Seo-Goon (Kim Mu-yeol), the son of the family. Nam-Yi fritters away his days in drunken despair over forever being branded the son of a traitor, and though he vehemently opposes his sister’s marriage, he is powerless to prevent it. On his sister’s wedding day, his family has the misfortune of being directly in the path of the Manchu invaders, and his sister, along with their entire village, is captured and enslaved. Nam-Yi escapes the carnage and finds a renewed sense of purpose in fulfilling his father’s parting directive to take care of his sister, and relentlessly pursues the invaders to rescue his sister. Standing in his way is Jyu Shin-ta (Ryu Seung-ryong), a methodical, cold-blooded killer who is the head of an elite squad of Qing Dynasty troops. They pursue each other by proxy as Shin-ta follows Nam-Yi’s trail of fallen Manchu soldiers. This is superior action filmmaking in every sense, with camerawork as swift as the arrows that soar throughout, and an uncomplicated, primal heroes-and-villains story rendered with plain and direct, yet incredibly elegant freshness.<br />
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<b style="background-color: white;"><i>Vulgaria </i></b><span style="background-color: white;">(Pang Ho-cheung)</span><br />
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Hong Kong director Pang is often at his best in bawdy comedy mode (<i>Men Suddenly In Black</i>, <i>AV</i>), and his latest film <i>Vulgaria</i>, NYAFF’s opening night film, finds him firing on all cylinders. Based, according to its director, on actual incidents in the Hong Kong film industry, Pang has made an incredibly filthy movie that achieves its perversity solely through dialog, without a trace of nudity … without human nudity, anyway. In this sense, you could see Pang as Hong Kong’s answer to Kevin Smith, except with actual filmmaking talent. Framed as the recollections of an opportunistic, scruples-free producer (Chapman To) spinning true-life tales in front of a class of film students, <i>Vulgaria</i>’s jokes and gags come fast and furious, and they all hit their targets. A certain level of familiarity with the Hong Kong film industry, especially its Category III sex-and-violence sector, will be required to get all the jokes. (It especially helps if you’ve seen the recent HK softcore saga <i>3D Sex and Zen: Extreme Ecstasy</i>, whose star Hiro Hayama here plays himself). All the actors are game, and acquit themselves with riveting energy and verve, as they navigate this world of triad investors, product placement, extreme cuisine, and as the hilarious cherry on top, drunken bestiality (perhaps <i>Clerks 2</i> was an inspiration here?). Among <i>Vulgaria</i>’s many delightful qualities is a fantastic breakout performance by Dada Chan as a model/aspiring actress/video game designer named Popping Candy, so called because of her unique blow-job technique. She takes what in other hands would be a throwaway role and transforms it into a soulful one, and makes clear that there is a fierce intelligence behind her pulchritudinous beauty.<br />
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<b><i>Boxer’s Omen</i></b><span style="background-color: white;"> (Kuei Chih-hung)</span><br />
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This bizarre (to put it very mildly) Shaw Brothers horror/fantasy production from 1983 has a thin sliver of a plot involving a man (Philip Ko) who travels to Thailand to get revenge against a kickboxer (Bolo Yeung) who killed his brother in the rung during a match. But this is where things get weird: he goes to a Buddhist temple to get help from the monks, and gets caught up in a good-and-evil battle spanning centuries. This is the type of movie the term “midnight movie” was custom made for. The extreme, gross-out imagery – a character consumes his own regurgitated food, which is regurgitated again and stuffed into a corpse’s mouth, which is then sewn into the skin of an alligator – only escalates, with ever scanter logic, with each minute of screen time. Bats, spiders, skulls with their brains made into soup, a writing zombie woman (emerging from an alligator corpse) who is later flayed and dissolved into maggots – all these and more, so much more, are thrown at us in a nearly sadistic assault on the senses. Add to that a couple of entirely gratuitous sex scenes, and you have the kind of what-the-fuck whatsit that you’ll only find at NYAFF.<br />
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<b>Elena</b>. 2011. Directed by <b>Andrey Zvyagintsev</b>. Written by <b>Oleg Negin </b>and <b>Andrey Zvyagintsev</b>. Produced by <b>Alexander Rodnyansky </b>and <b>Sergey Melkumov</b>. Cinematography by <b>Mikhail Krichman</b>. Edited by <b>Anna Mass</b>. Music by <b>Philip Glass</b>, from his 1995 <i>Symphony No. 3</i>. Production design by <b>Vasily Gritskov </b>and <b>Valeriy Zhukov</b>. Sound design by <b>Andrey Dergachev </b>and <b>Stas Krechkov</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Nadezhda Markina </b>(Elena), <b>Andrey Smirnov </b>(Vladimir), <b>Elena Lyadova </b>(Katya), <b>Alexey Rozin </b>(Sergei), <b>Evgenia Konushkina </b>(Tatyana), <b>Igor Ogurtsov </b>(Sasha), <b>Vasiliy Michkiv </b>(Lawyer).<br />
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/2012/05/review-andrey-zvyagintsevs-elena.php" target="_blank">Twitch</a>.)<br />
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Acclaimed Russian filmmaker Andrey Zvyagintsev (<i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Return_(2003_film)" target="_blank">The Return</a></i>, <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Banishment" target="_blank">The Banishment</a></i>) taps into the rich tradition of film noir, as well as the influence and cultural echoes of such diverse Russian forebears as Dostoevsky, Chekhov and Tarkovsky, in his latest work <i>Elena</i>, a superb slow-burn drama in which the peripheral details have as much impact as the main plotline. Zvyagintsev offers sharp, caustic social commentary on contemporary Putin-era Russia, where class warfare and the attendant divide between the haves and the have-nots prove to be not only insurmountable, but to have deadly consequences. Its impeccably composed, stark visuals lending a near-apocalyptic mood that permeates every frame, <i>Elena </i>leaves the viewer with a chill that lingers long after the end credits have rolled.<br />
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Beginning and ending with a shot of birds alighting on a branch outside a palatial, upscale Moscow apartment (just one example of how natural landscapes inform the human action throughout the film), <i>Elena </i>is named after its protagonist (played by Nadezhda Markina), a sixtyish woman living in that apartment who is married to Vladimir (Andrey Smirnov), a rich businessman. They met each other years before when Elena was a nurse and Vladimir was her patient; Elena’s caretaker role has continued into their married life, in which her main job is to attend to her husband’s needs, getting him out of bed and handling all the domestic duties. Though they outwardly seem to be a loving couple, this is belied by the fact that they sleep in separate beds, which make Elena as much a maidservant as she is a wife.<br />
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Elena and Vladimir both have adult children from their previous marriages, each with their separate problems. Elena’s son Sergei (Alexey Rozin) is a dissolute layabout, living in a rundown tenement in the suburban outskirts of Moscow who depends on the financial largesse Elena manages to wheedle out of a grudgingly tolerant Vladimir. Sergei constantly bickers with his wife, usually over his equally aimless and undisciplined teenage son Sasha (Igor Ogurtsov); Sergei’s lack of emotional maturity is neatly represented by the beer bottle that is constantly at his mouth, echoing the milk bottle in the mouth of his infant son. Vladimir is estranged from his daughter Katya (Elena Lyadova), whom her father terms a “hedonist,” similarly to Sergei lacking gainful employment, apparently spending most of her time indulging in one-night stands and alcohol.<br />
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The needs of Sergei and his family, whom Elena cares for fiercely and seemingly without judgment, form the catalyst for the main conflict of the film. Elena is very much concerned about getting her grandson Sasha into college so that he won’t be drafted into the military, and perhaps harboring an unspoken wish to prevent him from ending up like his father. Elena repeatedly asks Vladimir for money to help him go to school, presumably to help bribe the right people, since Sasha won’t get into a good school with his grades alone. Vladimir, openly resenting having to provide for Elena’s family, puts his foot down, refusing this latest request for assistance. Later, when a health scare and a belated reconciliation with his daughter causes Vladimir to redraft his will, Elena contemplates taking drastic measures to protect her own future financial stability as well as her son’s family’s. Without giving too much away, if you’ve seen <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Postman_Always_Rings_Twice_(film)" target="_blank">The Postman Always Rings Twice</a></i> or such latter-day European re-imaginings as György Fehér’s Hungarian film <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Passion_(1998_film)" target="_blank">Passion</a> </i>(1998) or Christian Petzold’s German film <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerichow_(film)" target="_blank">Jerichow</a> </i>(2008), you’ll probably guess where this story is headed.<br />
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With now just three features to his credit, Andrey Zvyagintsev has catapulted himself to the ranks of the finest world directors, and certainly one of the best filmmakers to come out of Russia; <i>Elena </i>is his finest creation yet. Zvyagintsev and his collaborators, especially his brilliant regular cinematographer Mikhail Krichman, excel in every department; especially impressive is how Elena’s cinematic frame teems with details that complement the main action and provide acerbic and disturbing commentary on modern Russian life. For example, television – sometimes heard, sometimes seen – is a constant backdrop to many interior scenes in the film. The inane cooking, dating, and advice shows that blare in the background are the new opium of the people, to borrow from Marx’s famous maxim concerning religion, that prevent citizens from thinking too hard about their circumstances and the societal injustices and socioeconomic inequalities that have placed them there. (Not to mention the conditions that have allowed an authoritarian ex-KGB man have constant rule over Russia for what, with the latest election, will be close to two decades.) <br />
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Elements of the natural world, especially animals, exist as portentous symbols of the ominous fates awaiting the human characters; for example, the loud cawing of crows (never a good sign) is heard throughout. Late in the film, Elena’s train passes by a dead horse on the side of the tracks, an unmistakable metaphor for the evil that Zvyagintsev sees shaping the universe he creates in <i>Elena</i>, as well as the world he sees around him. In his director’s statement, he says that <i>Elena </i>gave him the chance “to explore the central idea of the early modern period: survival of the fittest, survival at any cost … Ever-increasing disengagement and individualism mean that people start to behave more and more like a bunch of tarantulas in a jar.”<br />
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I must mention two more elements that contribute to <i>Elena</i>’s artistic success. Nadezhda Markina’s central performance is a riveting and complex one that elicits both sympathy and revulsion with equal intensity, as we see what Elena is truly capable of when push comes to shove and the drive for self-preservation becomes an all-encompassing force, subsuming any sense of morality, scruples, or even love. The starkly understated, yet intense action of the film is propelled by Philip Glass’s propulsive score, taken from his 1995 composition <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_No._3_(Glass)" target="_blank">Symphony No. 3</a></i>. This piece recurs throughout the film, mostly in scenes with Elena traversing the sharply disparate worlds of wealth and privilege represented by her rich husband’s neighborhood, and the relative poverty of the crumbling high-rise inhabited by her son. Glass’s music plays during an overhead shot of a newborn baby playing on an oversized bed, which becomes a deeply unsettling symbol of the unending cycle of dog-eat-dog materialism that Zvyagintsev so vividly, and unforgettably, depicts.<br />
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<i>Elena </i>is now playing at Film Forum in New York through May 29. <a href="http://www.filmforum.org/movies/more/elena" target="_blank">Click here</a> for more information and to purchase tickets.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/p0gMVLB024w" width="440"></iframe><br />Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-65549478151243529562012-05-19T20:38:00.000-05:002012-05-20T04:36:38.990-05:00Tribeca Film Festival 2012 Review: Seung-Jun Yi's "Planet of Snail"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Planet of Snail (Dalpaengi-eui byeol)</b>. 2011. Directed by <b>Seung-Jun Yi</b>. Essays and poetry by <b>Jo Young-chan</b>. Produced by <b>Min-Chul Kim </b>and <b>Gary Kam</b>. Edited by <b>Simon El Habre </b>and <b>Seung-Jun Yi</b>. Music by <b>Min Seonki</b>. Sound design and sound editing by <b>Sami Kiiski</b>.<br />
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/2012/04/tribeca-2012-review-planet-of-snail.php" target="_blank">Twitch</a>.)<br />
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My personal favorite of all the films I viewed at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival, Seung-Jun Yi’s mesmerizing and lovely documentary <i>Planet of Snail</i> slowly and patiently reveals to us the dimensions of the love story at its center. The film explores the daily lives of Young-chan, a deaf and blind man, and his companion Soon-ho, a woman whose growth has been stunted by a spinal disability. As much as we can celebrate <i>Planet of Snail</i> for its myriad exemplary qualities in terms of filmmaking and its sensitive and deeply respectful portrayal of its subjects, it can also be greatly appreciated for what it is not. It most emphatically is not a maudlin, earnest social-problem documentary that dwells on the difficulties of their existence and holds them up as sentimental objects of pity. Instead, with uncommon gifts of close observation and an unhurried, meditative pace, we are taken into their tactile way of perceiving the world, communicating with each other by the Braille they tap out on each other’s hands. They have full and rich lives of both quotidian daily tasks and art creation and appreciation and, on the evidence of this film, are a good deal more in tune with and attentive to the world they live in than most of us so-called able-bodied folks.<br />
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“All deaf-blind people have the heart of an astronaut,” Young-chan at one point says in the voiceover that punctuates the film’s episodes, and reveals himself as a poetic observer of both his own condition and of the universe that surrounds him. In addition to being a talented writer who regularly enters literary contests and reads stories with a Braille reader he carries around with him, he is also a sculptor, molding clay into animals and human figures. This latter skill, especially, is indicative of his playful sense of humor; one of the figures he sculpts is a man pissing into a chamber pot. Young-chan’s reference to himself as an “astronaut” ties into the film’s title; he perceives of himself as a visitor to this world who comes from another world of silence, isolation, and darkness, using his sense of touch to make sense of and revel in the natural world. His love of nature manifests itself in such activities and putting his hand out to feel the drops of a spring shower, and literally hugging trees in a public park.<br />
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Of course, Young-chan is not alone in this quest to interact with the world. Soon-ho is his nearly inseparable, loving companion each step of the way, assisting him with such daily needs as their meals (tapping out on Braille what and where the food is), as well as other activities as his essay writing and his playwriting (he composes a religious play for his church and is a consultant to another theatre production about deaf-blindness). Their evident love for each other and mutual dependence on each other is such that it makes their friends envious. The symbiotic nature of their relationship is revealed in a remarkable scene in which they work together to change a round fluorescent light bulb, an elaborate operation that they achieve with a satisfied sense of accomplishment. Even though Soon-ho at one point says that it would be ideal if they both died at the same time, she comes to recognize the importance of Young-chan’s developing his own self-sufficiency. Late in the film, Soon-ho nervously watches from a distance as Young-chan attempts to navigate the streets by himself, and later sees him off on a shuttle bus to a facility where others can care for him as well.<br />
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Yi shot <i>Planet of Snail</i> over the course of two years, an extended period of time that deepens the intimate feel of the documentary, as well as enhancing the natural beauty of the visuals, which depict the passage of time and the changing of the seasons with a delicacy that is quite affecting. This is an extraordinary work that is one of the most life-affirming viewing experiences I’ve ever had at the movies, and it’s hard to me to conceive of anyone else who’ll disagree with me after seeing it for themselves.<br />
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<i>Planet of Snail</i> opens later this summer at Film Forum, from July 25 through August 7. <a href="http://www.filmforum.org/movies/more/planet_of_snail" target="_blank">Click here</a> for more information at Film Forum’s website.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LOirvGtR2Mg" width="440"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-91541782642314891392012-05-13T20:22:00.000-05:002012-08-18T06:47:30.294-05:00Tribeca Film Festival 2012 Review: Alex Karpovsky's "Rubberneck"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Rubberneck</b>. 2012. Directed by <b>Alex Karpovsky</b>. Written by <b>Alex Karpovsky </b>and <b>Garth Donovan</b>. Produced by <b>Garth Donovan</b>, <b>Michael Bowes</b>, and <b>Adam Roffman</b>. Cinematography by <b>Beecher Cotton</b>. Edited by <b>Garth Donovan </b>and <b>Alex Karpovsky</b>. Music by <b>James Lavino</b>. Production design by <b>Lindsay Degen</b>. Sound by<b> Charlie Anderson </b>and <b>Will Lautzenheiser</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Alex Karpovsky </b>(Paul Harris), <b>Jamie Ray Newman </b>(Danielle Jenkins), <b>Amanda Good Hennessey </b>(Linda Harris), <b>Dennis Staroselsky </b>(Chris Burke), <b>Dakota Shepard </b>(Kathy), <b>Sean Sullivan </b>(Detective Timmons), <b>Richard Forbes </b>(Detective Ford), <b>Mariana Basham </b>(Marsha Burke), <b>Gabriel Kuttner </b>(Ken).</div>
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/2012/04/tribeca-2012-review-rubberneck.php">Twitch</a>.)</div>
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Actor and director Alex Karpovsky has been a fixture in the
past few years in low-budget American indies, many of which have fallen under
the rubric (though I hate the term) of “mumblecore.” In many of these films, both directed by himself
and by others, he is an affable and sardonic presence, who has drawn
comparisons in many quarters to Woody Allen.
Often in the characters he plays, a darker undercurrent is revealed that
lies underneath the friendly façade presented to the world. Up until now, at least in what I have seen so
far of his work, this all existed more or less solidly in the realm of
comedy. However, <i>Rubberneck</i>, his
latest film as director and lead actor, takes him into very different
territory; it is a moody and atmospheric piece, full of creeping dread, an
emotional reflection of its tortured protagonist. It is essentially a stalker tale, in the mode
of such films as <i>Psycho </i>and <i>Peeping Tom</i>; as a result, the
narrative trajectory goes pretty much the way one would expect once the
obsessive nature of its main character becomes fully established. But as the cliché goes, it’s about the
journey, not the destination, and Karpovsky delivers a compelling and
skillfully rendered trip through his character’s trauma-scarred psyche.</div>
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Paul Harris (Karpovsky), <i>Rubberneck</i>’s central
character, is a scientist at a research laboratory in suburban <st1:city>Boston</st1:city>,
a starkly antiseptic environment that fits the mask of logicality and normalcy
that Paul wears, and which gradually slips away as the film progresses. This unmasking is set into motion in the
aftermath of one weekend Paul spends having a sexual tryst with his co-worker
Danielle (Jaime Ray Newman). Danielle
considers this a one-time thing, to the dismay of Paul, who eight months later,
is still unable to let go, and spends his days in tortured awkwardness at still
being in Danielle’s presence daily at work.
Even though he applies for work at other labs, he can’t quite bring
himself to leave his job, perhaps in the hope of rekindling, or rather,
beginning a relationship with Danielle.
His only solace during his longing is the time he spends with his sister
Linda (Amanda Good Hennessey) and her son, as well as satisfying his sexual
desires with Kathy (Dakota Shepard), a paid escort he frequents. Whatever faint hopes Paul harbors of getting
anywhere with Danielle are dashed when she begins seeing Chris (Dennis
Staroselsky), a new employee at the lab.
This unleashes the desperation, anger, and violent impulses that Paul
heretofore has very carefully hidden from others, leading to extreme and
irreversible consequences.</div>
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<i>Rubberneck</i>, written by Karpovsky and Garth Donovan,
impresses less with the explanations behind Paul’s pathologies than it does
with the use of its suburban settings and eerily stark interiors that surround
the protagonist and immerse the viewers fully in his headspace. Also impressive is Karpovsky’s performance, rendering
with chilly intensity this withdrawn and often opaque character who in many
scenes in the film is silently lurking and watching. Incidentally, this year’s festival offered viewers a chance to get a sense of Karpovsky’s range as an actor, and to
compare his work in <i>Rubberneck </i>with his more comedic role in Daniel Schechter's film <i><a href="http://www.tribecafilm.com/filmguide/supporting_characters-film41906.html#.T7BZ-Ottq8A">Supporting Characters</a> </i>(which I also highly recommend).
Both films mark the continuing emergence of a remarkable talent both in
front of and behind the camera.</div>
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Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-53039929186209061662012-05-06T16:19:00.000-05:002012-05-06T16:19:13.958-05:00Tribeca Film Festival 2012 Review: Kim Nguyen's "War Witch"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>War Witch (Rebelle)</b>. 2012. Written and directed by <b>Kim Nguyen</b>. Produced by <b>Pierre Even </b>and <b>Marie-Claude Poulin</b>. Cinematography by <b>Nicolas Bolduc</b>. Edited by <b>Richard Comeau</b>. Production design by <b>Emmanuel Frechette</b>. Costume design by <b>Eric Poirier</b>. Sound by <b>Claude La Haye</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Rachel Mwanza </b>(Komona), <b>Alain Bastien </b>(Rebel Lieutenant), <b>Serge Kanyinda </b>(Magician), <b>Ralph Prosper </b>(The Butcher), <b>Mizinga Mwinga </b>(Great Tiger), <b>Starlette Mathata </b>(Komona's mother), <b>Alex Herabo </b>(Komona's father).<br />
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/2012/04/tribeca-2012-review-war-witch.php">Twitch</a>.)<br />
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I am of two minds when it comes to cinematic depictions of
the African continent, in both fiction and documentary films. On the one hand, the sad reality is that civil
war, corruption, political instability, and famine are inescapable features of
many African countries, due to the legacy of European colonialism and the
subsequent failings of indigenous leaders.
On the other hand, focusing on such subjects leads to a narrow and
skewed view of a continent with rich history and culture, especially
considering the fact that many films about <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> are
made by non-Africans. However
sympathetic and respectful these outsiders to the cultures may be, there often
remains an inescapable aspect of voyeuristic tourism, aimed more at appealing
to Westerners than to African people themselves.<br />
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At first blush Canadian filmmaker Kim Nguyen’s fourth
feature <i>War Witch </i>would seem to conform to the usual trends. Shot in the <st1:country-region>Democratic
Republic of the Congo</st1:country-region> but not the specific
setting of the film, which is rendered as an unnamed sub-Saharan African
country, <i>War Witch </i>deals with the phenomenon of child soldiers, a
subject that has been explored in numerous films and TV reports. The usual issues of the loss of innocence and
war trauma are dealt with here as well, so there is certainly nothing
ground-breaking or particularly novel in what Nguyen offers us, at least as far
as subject matter goes. What elevates
this film above many others, however, is the fable-like atmosphere that informs
both the performances and the visual aesthetic.
Also taking the film to a uniquely memorable place is the stunning
standout performance by the young actress Rachel Mwanza, a nonprofessional
found by Nguyen on the streets of the Congo capital of Kinshasa, who went on to
win the best actress award at this year’s Berlin Film Festival. Mwanza ably carries <i>War Witch </i>almost
entirely on her soldiers, never less than convincing at every turn.</div>
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<i>War Witch </i>is built around the conceit of Komona
(Mwanza), narrating her story to her unborn child, one product of the war that
is waged around her, and of which she has been forced to become an active
participant. Twelve years old as the
story begins, Komona is taken away from her village by invading rebel soldiers
and drafted into the rebels’ child army, but not before being compelled to do
the first killing that will haunt her throughout the rest of the film. We are taken through the roughly three years
following her abduction constituting her war experiences. Komona’s own parents have been replaced by
her rifle; the rebel soldiers tell her and the other children that “this is
your mother and father” during their training.
Komona’s sadness and fear begin to be alleviated by Magician (Serge
Kanyinda), an albino fellow child soldier who takes it upon himself to befriend
and protect her.</div>
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During a battle with government soldiers, in which Komona is
one of the few survivors, the rebels believe she has magic powers that can
predict when they will be attacked and protect them from government bullets,
and designate her as a “war witch,” and to eventually become the personal
property of the rebel leader Great Tiger (Mizinga Mwinga). Magician sticks by Komona’s side through all
of this, and they eventually make their escape from the rebel army to live with
Magician’s uncle the Butcher (Ralph Prosper).
Rachel and Magician are able to lead a somewhat normal existence, which
includes a humorous episode in which Rachel sends him on a quest to track down
a rare white rooster before she will allow him to marry her. However, the civil war proves inescapable,
and they are both drawn back into its murderous embrace.</div>
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<i>War Witch </i>has a dreamy, fairy-tale quality that
meshes surprisingly well with the more violent aspects of this tale, and Kim
Nguyen ably mixes the fantastical elements of his story with a documentary-like
aesthetic to create a richly textured work.
The entire cast, a mix of non-professional Congolese actors and
professional Canadian actors offer impressive support to the revelatory central
performance by Rachel Mwanza, especially Kanyinda as Magician.</div>
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<i>War Witch </i>won the Founders Award for Best Narrative Feature at Tribeca, as the award for Best Actress in a Narrative Feature for Rachel Mwanza.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CnVNhdBTpGM" width="440"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-75508038085420835372012-05-05T17:33:00.000-05:002012-05-06T03:51:38.182-05:00Tribeca Film Festival 2012 Review: Lynn Shelton's "Your Sister's Sister"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Your Sister's Sister</b>. 2011. Written and directed by <b>Lynn Shelton</b>. Produced by <b>Steven Schardt</b>. Cinematography by <b>Benjamin Kasulke</b>. Edited by <b>Nat Sanders</b>. Original music and sound by <b>Vinny Smith</b>. Production design by <b>John Lavin</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Mark Duplass </b>(Jack), <b>Emily Blunt </b>(Iris), <b>Rosemarie DeWitt </b>(Hannah), <b>Mike Birbiglia </b>(Al), <b>Mike Harring </b>(Tom, in photos).</div>
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/2012/04/tribeca-2012-review-your-sisters-sister.php">Twitch</a>.)<br />
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There are many pleasures to be had in watching <i>Your
Sister’s Sister</i>, the fourth feature by writer/director Lynn Shelton (<i><a href="http://www.lynnshelton.net/wgwb/index.html">We Go Way Back</a></i>, <i><a href="http://www.lynnshelton.net/meb/">My Effortless Brilliance</a></i>, <i><a href="http://www.humpdayfilm.com/">Humpday</a></i>), one of the
great highlights of Tribeca 2012. For
example, there is the nuanced and lived-in feel of the performances; the way
each scene is meticulously mined for maximum comic/dramatic value; and the
burnished cinematography that makes great use of the overcast atmosphere of the
<st1:place>Pacific Northwest</st1:place> to envelop everything we see in its
moody embrace. But beyond all this,
there is the great pleasure of seeing Shelton so beautifully build and expand
on her already impressive achievements, delivering (as always) the laughs that
come from her characters being placed in rather uncomfortable situations, but
adding an emotional weight that enhances both the comedic and serious moments
to brilliant effect.</div>
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<st1:city>Shelton</st1:city>’s two
previous films <i>My Effortless Brilliance </i>and <i><a href="http://chrisbourne.blogspot.com/2010/01/top-40-films-of-2009-35-31.html">Humpday</a> </i>focused on
male friendship and rivalry, and how this can often descend into a mano-a-mano
battle of wills, each side loath to back down from whatever emotional position
they choose to assume. Such a rivalry
forms the backbone of <i>Your Sister’s Sister</i>, but there are two
significant differences. First, the
relationship is between that of brothers, which serves to intensify this sort
of rivalry even further, due to the emotional and familial bond that comes into
play. But most importantly, this
relationship has already occurred offscreen before the film begins, and is
already at an end. This is because one
of the brothers had been dead for a year as the action commences; we are first
introduced to the surviving sibling, Jack (Mark Duplass), brooding in a corner
as a death anniversary gathering is happening, where the participants share
their memories of Jack’s brother Tom.
After Al (Mike Birbiglia) shares a fond memory of a night at the movies
with Tom watching <i>Hotel Rwanda</i>, an inebriated and agitated Jack dumps
cold water on the proceedings by giving a toast suggesting that Tom wasn’t
quite the saintly figure eulogized by his friends. As one can imagine, this act effectively ends
the celebration, bringing Tom’s friends down to Jack’s own depressed level.</div>
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This proves to be one breach of decorum too many for Iris
(Emily Blunt), Jack’s best friend and an ex-girlfriend of Tom’s. She stages an intervention with Jack after
the party, prescribing a period of exile at her family’s cabin on an island in
the <st1:place>Pacific Northwest</st1:place>.
Iris conceives this isolation for Jack as emotional rehab, to shake him
out the aimless, depressive slackerdom he has indulged in during the year
following his brother’s death. With
literally nothing else better to do, Jack accedes to Iris’ demands, biking out
to the cabin. However, this planned
solitude is not to be, as Jack unexpectedly comes upon Iris’ sister Hannah
(Rosemarie DeWitt) taking up residence there. (Even a simple set-up such as
this plays out in a hilariously awkward and nicely staged scene; <st1:city>Shelton</st1:city>
misses few opportunities to humorously reveal character.) Hannah is also using the cabin as a refuge
from her own emotional turmoil, having just ended a seven-year lesbian
relationship, drowning her sorrows that night in a bottle of tequila. That tequila is the catalyst for an ill-advised
(and also hilariously awkward) sexual encounter between the two, and a
complicated situation that becomes even more so when Iris decides to join Jack at
the cabin, unaware that her sister is also there. This sets into motion a chain of consequences
that reveals connections between the three (as well as their links to the
deceased Tom), in which hidden motives and desires, long suppressed, rise to
the surface.</div>
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<st1:city>Shelton</st1:city>’s usual
method of making her films involves extensive work with the actors in which
they fully collaborate with the director in creating their characters,
inventing backstories, and using on-set improvisation to flesh out interactions
between them, resulting in often startling and unexpected moments. One great example is one scene in which Hanna
tells an embarrassing “bush story” about Iris. (To clarify, the particular bush
involved is not the horticultural kind.)
Iris gets revenge on Hannah for telling this story in front of Jack by
rather cruelly causing Hannah to unwittingly breach her vegan diet. As can be expected, all this results in a lot
of talk, and definitely much of this film, similarly to her others, is very
dialog-driven. But that is not all there
is to it, although there is great dialog here; Shelton doesn’t neglect dynamic
staging, and she clearly has thought much more about composition and showing
the relationship between her characters and their setting. I’ve already mentioned the cinematography,
and again I’d like to highlight the great contribution of cameraman Benjamin
Kasulke, whom <st1:city>Shelton</st1:city> has worked
with on two other films, who provides rich visual texture here.</div>
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The performance work by all three principal actors is
stellar. Mark Duplass (no slouch as a
director himself, along with his brother Jay) has played similar characters in
other films, but here he lends a sense of melancholy that is bubbling just
under the surface, which leads to an outpouring of emotion at the end of the
film that is quite emotionally moving.
Emily Blunt and Rosemarie DeWitt are never less than convincing as the
siblings who form a female counterpart, perhaps, to the brothers who have been
separated by death. Their emotional
trajectory eventually takes center stage, pushing the film out of its light
comedic territory into something weightier, though never humorless or overly
ponderous.</div>
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</div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-54868359913692621252012-04-28T16:31:00.000-05:002012-05-06T04:00:47.772-05:00Tribeca Film Festival 2012 Review: Stephen Maing's "High Tech, Low Life"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JaGz_3r3Lvk/T5xZwVsWCWI/AAAAAAAABY0/ekW-4_Cr1NY/s1600/high_tech_low_life-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JaGz_3r3Lvk/T5xZwVsWCWI/AAAAAAAABY0/ekW-4_Cr1NY/s400/high_tech_low_life-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>High Tech, Low Life</b>. 2012. Directed and photographed by <b>Stephen Maing</b>. Produced by <b>Stephen Maing </b>and <b>Trina Rodriguez</b>. Edited by <b>Stephen Maing </b>and <b>Jonathan Oppenheim</b>. Music by <b>Brendon Anderegg</b>, <b>Brad Hyland</b>, and <b>Kevin Micka</b>.</div>
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://www.vcinemashow.com/?p=8599">VCinema</a>.)</div>
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Stephen Maing’s timely and fascinating documentary <i>High
Tech, Low Life</i>, examines the subject of journalism and internet censorship
in <st1:country-region>China</st1:country-region>
through the eyes and experiences of two very different citizen journalists. Both are people from humble backgrounds who
found a new calling using the power of blogging and the internet to uncover
stories hidden from the public by the government and to give other people like
themselves (often in worse circumstances) a voice and an outlet for their
grievances that they have been denied in official channels. <i>High Tech, Low Life </i>has its world
premiere at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.<o:p></o:p></div>
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27-year-old Zhou Shuguang, known by the blogger handle
“Zola,” before embarking on his new internet life, was a vegetable seller from <st1:place><st1:city>Fengmuqiao</st1:city>,
<st1:state>Hunan</st1:state></st1:place> Province. “I used to be a nobody before I discovered
the internet,” he says by way of introduction.
After deciding on impulse to investigate the forced eviction of citizens
of a neighboring province by city developers, and posting what he found on his
blog, the overwhelming response and the measure of fame he received encouraged
him to pursue citizen journalism full time.
The next major case we see him reporting on is the rape and murder of a
young girl by a high official’s relative, and the apparent subsequent cover-up
of this crime. This episode is
illuminating not only for its demonstration of Zola’s tenacious efforts to
expose the government’s complicity in protecting well-connected criminals, but
also the potentially negative aspects of Zola’s attention-seeking
personality. Zola gets his information
by disavowing any sort of journalistic identity, posing as simply a curious
onlooker and blogger. He attends the
dead girl’s public wake, and rather ill-advisedly snaps a photo of himself
smiling by the girl’s coffin, drawing an outraged comment on his blog
condemning his lack of respect for the dead.
Certainly, there is an egocentric aspect to Zola’s activities: he often
wears a T-shirt emblazoned with his own image, and at one point he takes a
picture of himself that makes it look as if he is leaping over the <st1:place>Great
Wall of China</st1:place>, which he makes into a large poster that he displays
at a Chinese blogger conference. However,
he consciously sees himself as a representative of the youth of <st1:country-region>China</st1:country-region>,
with their distracted, short attention spans, and his brash, outsized antics seem
designed to appeal to them. And of
course, it’s not only about fame, since there are far safer and less controversial
ways of achieving fame than flouting censorship; he is no activist, but he
tirelessly strives to bring to light practices of corruption and exploitation
in his society that are kept from the public.</div>
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57-year-old Zhang Shihe, known as “<st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place>,” lives in <st1:city>Beijing</st1:city>,
and has a much more low-key personality than the younger Zola. Similarly to Zola, he got into citizen
journalism pretty much by accident: he witnessed a brutal murder being
committed in public and posted stills on his blog. It was eventually taken down, but not before
being circulated widely by others on the internet. <st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place> finds the outlet for
literary expression and his wish to help others less fortunate that had
heretofore eluded him, regularly traveling on his bike to the countryside and
reporting on farmers who have been neglected and ill-treated by government
authorities. He interviews and reports
on people who have had their land used as dumping grounds for toxic industrial
and human wastes, and on those who have suffered the broken promises of government
to assist them during changing agrarian policies. <st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place>’s age and personal
background provide a sense of history and cultural context that forms a
counterpoint to Zola’s relative inexperience.
<st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place>’s
family suffered from persecution during Mao’s Cultural Revolution, in which his
family lost everything and he became homeless; thereafter <st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place> embarked on the itinerant
lifestyle that he practices today. <st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place>, also in contrast to Zola,
sees his brand of journalism as activism and advocacy for the people he reports
on. He arranges for legal representation
for the farmers, and he also tries to help the homeless in <st1:city>Beijing</st1:city>
around <st1:place>Tiananmen Square</st1:place> find housing after the city
destroys their makeshift shelters. </div>
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The film alternates between Zola and <st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place>’s separate trajectories,
until the two finally meet at a Chinese blogger’s conference. During their meeting, <st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place> sizes up Zola immediately:
he calls him a “playful warrior,” a great phrase that perfectly describes
Zola’s approach to his journalistic activities.
Zola is also quite self-aware of his own generation: “We’re selfish,” he
says of himself and others of his age; he sees this attitude as the first step
in “breaking out of the Communist mindset.”</div>
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Zola and <st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place>
are far from fire-breathing radicals, but their activities in reporting
uncensored news nevertheless puts them squarely on the government authorities’
radar. Even though both are careful not
to call themselves “journalists” to avoid government regulation and censorship,
this doesn’t prevent them from regularly being followed during their travels
and having their plans thwarted. Zola is
refused permission to leave the country to attend a blogger’s conference in <st1:country-region>Germany</st1:country-region>,
and <st1:place><st1:placename>Tiger</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Temple</st1:placetype></st1:place>
is detained in the middle of the night and forced to leave <st1:city>Beijing</st1:city>
during a national conference. Their
efforts to evade the “Great Firewall,” <st1:country-region>China</st1:country-region>’s
massive internet censorship mechanism, by providing information unfiltered by
the state, cause them to be regarded as threats to national security. The heat on them only increases during such
sensitive times as the Beijing Olympics and the state uprisings in the <st1:place>Middle
East</st1:place> and <st1:place>North Africa</st1:place>, the so-called “Arab
Spring.”</div>
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As indicated in title <i>High Tech, Low Life</i>, Stephen
Maing gives us a thorough sense of how the latest technological tools can be
used to illuminate the lives of those who live far from the places where such
tools are commonly available. In <st1:country-region>China</st1:country-region>’s
case, many of these people are those who have been left behind, and often
trampled under, in the wake of the country’s rapid economic progress. <i>High Tech, Low Life </i>travels from <st1:city>Beijing</st1:city>
to the remote countryside, binding the experiences of the two contrasting
blogger personalities who are its subjects with evocative visuals that vividly
illustrate the social context that surrounds these two men and their search for
the truth.</div>
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<br />Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-27936662894482979622012-04-02T21:23:00.000-05:002012-04-02T21:23:51.844-05:00The Bourne Cinema Filmography: Asghar Farhadi, "About Elly" (2009)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iivmgyPAiRA/T3pdG6BY8GI/AAAAAAAABYs/4Ic_kQEMLkM/s1600/ABOUTELLY_STILL2.jpg_cmyk+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iivmgyPAiRA/T3pdG6BY8GI/AAAAAAAABYs/4Ic_kQEMLkM/s400/ABOUTELLY_STILL2.jpg_cmyk+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>About Elly (Darbareye Elly)</b>. 2009. Written, directed, production and costume design by <b>Asghar Farhadi</b>. Cinematography by <b>Hossein Jafarian</b>. Edited by <b>Hayedeh Safarian</b>. Sound by <b>Hassan Zahedi </b>and <b>Mohammad-Reza Delpak</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Golshifteh Farahani </b>(Sepideh), <b>Taraneh Alidoosti </b>(Elly), <b>Shahab Hosseini </b>(Ahmad), <b>Mani Haghighi </b>(Amir), <b>Merila Zarei </b>(Shohreh), <b>Peiman Ma'adi </b>(Peyman), <b>Ahmad Mehranfar </b>(Manouchehr), <b>Rana Azadivar </b>(Nazzie), <b>Saber Abar </b>(Ali-Reza).<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><i>About Elly </i>is a psychologically penetrating film in which a woman’s disappearance gives rise to all sorts of complex issues of morality (both within an Iranian context and without), and questions of culpability and responsibility for tragedy. The film ever so subtly switches gears from an observational and lightly comic portrait of Iranian middle-class life to a much darker morality play, and astutely demonstrates how both of these modes can be two sides of the same coin. The story begins innocently and benignly enough, as a group of university friends from <st1:city><st1:place>Tehran</st1:place></st1:city> go for a vacation at a beach house near the <st1:place>Caspian Sea</st1:place>, where they engage in various sorts of horseplay, games of charade, volleyball, and other activities, taking advantage of the holiday to shake off the constrictions of their workaday lives. The group consists of a couple of married couples and their kids, as well as the title character, Elly (Taraneh Alidousti), a shy kindergarten teacher and an outsider to the group who is reluctantly dragged there by her friend Sepideh (Golshifteh Farahani), whose child is in Elly’s class. Beneath the surface of this deceptively idyllic situation lies deceptions and secret personal agendas, beginning with Sepideh’s true purpose in bringing Elly on this trip: to set her up with Ahmad (Shahab Hosseini), a divorcee living in Germany who is now in Iran on a short visit, and in the market for a new wife. When the rest of the group catches wind of Sepideh’s attempts at matchmaking, they join in on trying to bring the two together. Elly resists, for reasons that are revealed only much later.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Farhadi proves to be quite adept at carefully controlling the tone of his film, and by so slowly and patiently setting up the situation and the complex nexus of relationships between the characters, he succeeds in deceiving the viewer as well, lulling us into the notion that this film will continue in this comic mode. However, about 45 minutes or so into the film, the mood abruptly shifts gears when one of the children is swept out to sea while playing on the beach. The child is eventually rescued, but an even more serious situation arises when Elly, who had been watching the children, herself goes missing. At this point, the web of deceit tightens on all of the film’s characters, as all the lies, casual and serious, necessary and unnecessary, come back to haunt them, and the consequences of these lies are unforgiving. Although some of the deceptions arise from particular proprieties necessary in Iranian society (for example, introducing Ahmad and Elly to the old woman who rents them the beach house as newlyweds), others are much more problematic and in many cases a function of serious breaches of ethics, committed in an attempt to save face or avoid problems with the police. The brilliance of Farhadi’s script and direction (he won the Silver Bear for best director at the 2009 Berlin Film Festival) becomes most apparent in the later stages of the film, as he deftly maps out the shifts in the perceptions and behavior of the characters toward each other (as well as the viewer’s perception of the characters), as one secret after another is revealed. Farhadi’s cast is uniformly excellent, especially Farahani, who compellingly registers Sepideh’s shock at how her seemingly innocent matchmaking has taken such a tragic turn, as well as the way her character, like others in the film, is revealed to not be what it initially appears.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>About Elly </i>screens on April 6 at 8:30pm, April 7 at 6:45pm, and April 8 at 1:30 at the Walter Reade Theater as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center's retrospective "<a href="http://www.filmlinc.com/films/series/asghar-farhadis-iran">Asghar Farhadi's Iran</a>." <a href="http://www.filmlinc.com/films/on-sale/about-elly">Click here</a> to purchase tickets.</div><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/S-CAKV2CUU0" width="440"></iframe>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-68864674101250065002012-03-08T21:04:00.001-05:002012-06-23T18:03:46.970-05:00"Love Will Tear Us Apart" Review: Lee Sang-il's "Villain"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Villain (Akunin)</b>. 2010. Directed by <b>Lee Sang-il</b>. Written by <b>Shuichi Yoshida </b>and <b>Lee Sang-il</b>, based on the novel by <b>Shuichi Yoshida</b>. Produced by <b>Tomoyo Nihira </b>and <b>Genki Kawamura</b>. Cinematography by <b>Norimichi Kasamatsu</b>. Edited by <b>Tsuyoshi Imai</b>. Music by <b>Joe Hisaishi</b>. Production design by <b>Yohei Taneda</b>. Costume design by <b>Kumiko Ogawa</b>. Sound by <b>Mitsugu Shiratori</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Satoshi Tsumabuki</b> (Yuichi Shimizu), <b>Eri Fukatsu </b>(Mitsuyo Magome), <b>Masaki Okada </b>(Keigo Masuo), <b>Hikari Mitsushima </b>(Yoshino Ishibashi), <b>Kirin Kiki </b>(Yuichi's grandmother), <b>Akira Emoto </b>(Yoshino's father), <b>Kimiko Yo </b>(Yuichi's mother).<br />
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One of my favorite recent Japanese films is the complex crime drama/lovers-on-the-run story <i>Villain</i>, screening as part of Japan Society’s film series “<a href="http://www.japansociety.org/film">Love Will Tear Us Apart</a>.” Below is what I wrote on this film when it screened at the 2010 Busan International Film Festival.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The finest film to date from Japanese-Korean director Lee Sang-il (<i>69</i>, <i>Scrap Heaven</i>, <i>Hula Girls</i>) is this tale of murder (based on a novel by Shuichi Yoshida, who also penned the screenplay) rendered in complex shades of gray. <i>Villain </i>gains its tremendous power from both its excellent performances (not only by the leads Satoshi Tsumabuki and Eri Fukatsu, but the stellar supporting cast), and its intriguingly ambiguous scenario, which challenges easy moral and character judgments. The “villain” of the title would at first appear to be Yuichi (Tsumabuki), who commits murder during one terrible night in a fit of rage. But as the circumstances of the night are slowly teased out during the course of the film, and the context surrounding the murder is gradually revealed, we come to learn than Yuichi isn’t the only one worthy of being tagged with that titular appellation. Two other possible candidates are the flighty, superficial Yoshino (Hikari Mitsushima), whom Yuichi pines for initially, but who herself pursues the rich playboy Masuo (Masaki Okada), who is contemptuous of anyone he considers beneath his station. All three of them figure into the murder at the center of the story. Yuichi is eventually forced to go on the lam, where he encounters Mitsuyo (Fukatsu), a shy and lonely woman who impulsively joins this fugitive, determined at all costs to see the goodness that exists at Yuichi’s core, convinced that his act of murder is not in his nature, but forced upon him by circumstance. The film itself appears to endorse Mitsuyo’s point of view, until an occurrence very close to the end seems to turn that completely on its head. Lee Sang-il throughout demonstrates an assured, compelling command of visuals and narrative flow, staging the chaotic maelstrom of events with a masterful hand. Fukatsu won a well-deserved best-actress prize at the Montreal World Festival; her performance is extraordinary, and her role proves to be the film’s most crucial one.<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i>Villain </i>screens at Japan Society on March 9 at <st1:time hour="19" minute="30">7:30</st1:time>. <a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/villain">Click here</a> to purchase tickets.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/yGUeUi3_rc4" width="440"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-27358185649661295162012-03-07T16:56:00.000-05:002012-03-07T16:56:17.152-05:00"Love Will Tear Us Apart" Review: Hong Sangsoo's "Tale of Cinema"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mWKQVM5-o6k/T1fX282fQ2I/AAAAAAAABYc/g6I5n0rDcmA/s1600/TaleOfCinema_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mWKQVM5-o6k/T1fX282fQ2I/AAAAAAAABYc/g6I5n0rDcmA/s400/TaleOfCinema_01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>Tale of Cinema (Geuk jang jeon)</b>. 2005. Written and directed by <b>Hong Sangsoo</b>. Produced by <b>Hong Sangsoo </b>and <b>Marin Karmitz</b>. Cinematography by <b>Kim Hyung-koo</b>. Edited by <b>Hahm Sung-won</b>. Music by <b>Jeong Yong-jin</b>. Sound by <b>An Sang-ho</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Kim Sang-kyung </b>(Kim Tong-su), <b>Uhm Ji-won </b>(Choi Young-shil), <b>Lee Ki-woo </b>(Jeon Sang-won).<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><i>Tale of Cinema</i>, Hong’s sixth feature, is an incredibly witty and playful meditation on the confluence of life and cinema. Over the course of twelve films, Hong has created a unique and fascinating body of work, unabashedly auteurist and boldly inventive. From the start, Hong’s films existed in opposition to conventional methods of storytelling, and he makes use of a relatively limited set of character types and milieus (usually the filmmaking and academic worlds) to experiment with narrative structure in his films. Recurring patterns of human behavior, character and narrative mirroring, and repetition run throughout his films. Along with that, he offers funny, painful, awkward, and brutally honest depictions of male and female relationships. <i>Tale of Cinema</i> added some intriguing new wrinkles to his cinematic strategy: this time (as the English title makes clear), cinema itself is his main subject matter. Similarly to some of his other films (<i>The Power of Kangwon Province</i> [1998], <i>Virgin Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors</i> [2000], <i>Turning Gate</i> [2002], <i>Woman on the Beach </i>[2006]), <i>Tale of Cinema</i> makes use of a bifurcated structure with echoes and mirrors in each half. However, while the structures of these other films serve to complicate and deepen our understanding of the characters and their situations, in this film we are invited to reflect on its own status as a cinematic object. To this end, Hong introduced some visual elements that have become stylistic hallmarks of his subsequent films, most prominently the frequent use of the zoom lens. The first time I saw <i>Tale of Cinema </i>(at the 2005 New York Film Festival), I found this quite disorienting, since Hong’s visual style up to that point consisted of minimal camera movement and practically no optical effects. Also new for Hong was the use of a voiceover and much more liberal use of non-diegetic music. All of these elements, including quotes from, and echoes of, his earlier films in <i>Tale of Cinema</i> serve to enhance our awareness that we are indeed watching a film, making what happens to the main character perhaps a cautionary tale.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Tale of Cinema</i> has a loose, improvisational, and comic feel that is quite charming. In the first part of the film, an aimless student (Lee Ki-woo) meets up with a young woman (Uhm Ji-won) he has known in the past, and convinces her to join him in his quest to kill himself. However, things don’t quite go according to plan, as they often do in Hong’s films. In the second half, Tong-su (Kim Sang-kyung), a failed filmmaker, has become convinced that his successful and celebrated film-school classmate has stolen his life story to make one of his films. After watching this film again at a retrospective devoted to the director, he spots the film’s lead actress (Uhm Ji-won again) outside the theater, and begins to doggedly pursue her. For those who haven’t yet seen <i>Tale of Cinema</i>,<i> </i>I won’t reveal the connection between these two halves, since that would lessen the sense of discovery that is at the heart of this film’s considerable charm. Those familiar with Hong’s previous films will sense a subtle optimism that doesn’t exist in his earlier films. Hong, as usual, elicits engaging performances from his leads, Lee Ki-woo a natural as the childish and self-involved suicidal young man, Kim Sang-kyung (who also starred in <i>Turning Gate</i>) quite funny as the bizarre (and possibly delusional) wannabe director, and especially the strikingly beautiful Uhm Ji-won, who deftly pulls off her tricky dual role.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Tale of Cinema </i>screens March 8, <st1:time hour="19" minute="0">7pm</st1:time> as part of Japan Society’s film series “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” For the rest of the screening schedule and ticket info, <a href="http://www.japansociety.org/film">click here</a>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This post is my contribution to the 2012 Korean Cinema Blogathon, hosted this year by New Korean Cinema and cineAWESOME! You can read all the other entries <a href="http://newkoreancinema.com/korean-blogathon-2012">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hygoDbUwdtg" width="420"></iframe></o:p></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-13496368901267890532012-03-01T23:50:00.002-05:002012-03-02T00:07:40.723-05:00"Love Will Tear Us Apart" Review: Shinya Tsukamoto's "Vital"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-649o9Gi188c/T1BQLKwoNbI/AAAAAAAABYU/jD3kfBWU8K0/s1600/vital_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-649o9Gi188c/T1BQLKwoNbI/AAAAAAAABYU/jD3kfBWU8K0/s400/vital_8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>Vital</b>. 2004. Written, directed, edited, photographed and production designed by <b>Shinya Tsukamoto</b>. Produced by <b>Shinya Tsukamoto</b>, <b>Keiko Kusakabe</b>, <b>Koichi Kusakabe</b>, and <b>Shinichi Kawahara</b>. Music by <b>Chu Ishikawa</b>. Sound by <b>Yoshiya Obara</b>. Special makeup effects by <b>Takashi Oda</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Tadanobu Asano </b>(Hiroshi Takagi), <b>Nami Tsukamoto </b>(Ryoko Oyama), <b>Kiki </b>(Ikumi Yoshimoto), <b>Kazuyoshi Kushida </b>(Hiroshi's father), <b>Lily </b>(Hiroshi's mother), <b>Go Riju </b>(Dr. Nakai), <b>Jun Kunimura </b>(Ryoko's father), <b>Ittoku Kishibe </b>(Dr. Kashiwabuchi).<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Shinya Tsukamoto’s beautiful film </span><i style="text-align: center;">Vital </i><span style="text-align: center;">(2004), one of the great highlights of Japan Society’s film series “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” continues his filmic exploration of the human body. Several of his other films (the cult classic </span><i style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tetsuo:_The_Iron_Man">Tetsuo the Iron Man</a> </i><span style="text-align: center;">and its </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tetsuo_II:_Body_Hammer" style="text-align: center;">two</a><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tetsuo:_The_Bullet_Man" style="text-align: center;">sequels</a><span style="text-align: center;">,</span><i style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tokyo_Fist">Tokyo Fist</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gemini_(1999_film)">Gemini</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bullet_Ballet">Bullet Ballet</a>, <a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/a-snake-of-june">A Snake of June</a> </i><span style="text-align: center;">[</span><span style="text-align: center;">also screening in the series]) focus obsessively on the materiality of the body, and specifically on the various ways it can be smashed, violated, and exposed. However, in </span><i style="text-align: center;">Vital</i><span style="text-align: center;">, Tsukamoto goes deeper, literally, digging into the mysteries of human consciousness and what constitutes life.</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Hiroshi (Tadanobu Asano), a medical student, wakes up from a coma, caused by a traffic accident in which his girlfriend Ryoko (Nami Tsukamoto) perished. Hiroshi, described by Tsukamoto as a “modern-day Leonardo da Vinci,” returns to his anatomy studies, making detailed drawings of his dissections. Meanwhile, he struggles to piece together his memory, which was severely damaged by the accident. Asano, who is often quiet and nearly somnambulistic during much of this film, maintains a quietly brooding presence, which draws us into his character’s travels through his consciousness, gradually revealing more details of his life and his relationship with Ryoko before the accident. Through the crucial clue of a cadaver’s tattoo, Hiroshi comes to realize, in the film’s most perverse twist, that the body he is dissecting in his anatomy course is in fact that of his dead girlfriend. Ryoko, whom it seems nursed a desire for death, requested that her body be entrusted to the medical school for the students’ use.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tsukamoto bathes his film in an icy blue palette and exhibits a striking sense of architecture and space, which is quite effective in exploring the contrasting spiritual realms his protagonist explores. During the time he is dissecting Ryoko’s corpse, he experiences frequent visitations from her, and in this way, he travels between the worlds of the living and the dead. When Ryoko was alive, they often flirted with this boundary through their kinky sex games of erotic asphyxiation. Hiroshi existed in the area between life and death during his coma, and ultimately he must choose whether he wants to be with Ryoko in her world, or remain in the world of the living.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Even though there is more than a hint of necrophilia in this scenario, <i>Vital </i>is remarkably free of exploitative elements and is quite restrained in its approach. There are many memorable and arresting images, such as superimposed cremation smokestacks, and the scenes of Ryoko’s visitations, especially one where she performs an anguished dance on a beach. One of the most moving passages in the film is the combined funeral and med-student graduation, where there is a deep respect expressed for the sacrifices the medical subjects and their families have made in the quest to expand human knowledge. “We owe them thanks,” the anatomy class professor intones before the students begin dissecting. And even though the essential question of the path Hiroshi ultimately chooses remains unresolved at the film’s conclusion, this is well in keeping with the deeper mystery the film poses of what constitutes human consciousness, a mystery which we are nowhere close to solving. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/vital">Vital</a> </i>screens at Japan Society on Saturday, March 3 at 7pm as part of its film series “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” an impressive selection of provocative films featuring twisted, obsessive, and extreme love stories from both Japan and Korea. Several celebrated auteurs are represented here; besides Tsukamoto (whose latest film <i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/kotoko">KOTOKO</a> </i>opens the series), the series offers films by Koji Wakamatsu (his latest film <i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/petrel-hotel-blue">Petrel Hotel Blue</a> </i>and two earlier films from the 60s and 70s), Hong Sangsoo (<i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/tale-of-cinema">Tale of Cinema</a></i>), Kim Ki-duk (<i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/bad-guy">Bad Guy</a></i>, <i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/dream">Dream</a></i>, <i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/time">Time</a></i>), Nagisa Oshima (<i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/in-the-realm-of-the-senses-1">In the Realm of the Senses</a></i>), and Lee Chang-dong (<i><a href="http://www.japansociety.org/event/oasis">Oasis</a></i>). <a href="http://www.japansociety.org/film">Click here</a> for more information on the series and to purchase tickets.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/nih18elH03U" width="420"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-14282161945503625622012-02-15T00:32:00.000-05:002012-02-15T00:32:21.109-05:00The Bourne Cinema Filmography: Bela Tarr, "The Outsider" (1981)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eH6CivTFyY4/TztDFcM4pgI/AAAAAAAABYM/bMhNLZh_C9E/s1600/The+Outsider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eH6CivTFyY4/TztDFcM4pgI/AAAAAAAABYM/bMhNLZh_C9E/s400/The+Outsider.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>The Outsider (Szabadgyalog)</b>. 1981. Written and directed by <b>Bela Tarr</b>. Cinematography by <b>Ferenc Pap </b>and <b>Barna Mihok</b>. Edited by <b>Agnes Hranitzky</b>. Music by <b>Andras Szabo</b>. Sound by <b>Bela Prohaszka</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Andras Szabo </b>(Andras), <b>Jolan Fodor </b>(Kata), <b>Imre Donko </b>(Csotesz), <b>Istvan Bolla </b>(Balazs).<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">Bela Tarr’s second feature <i>The Outsider</i>, which recently screened as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Tarr retrospective “<a href="http://www.filmlinc.com/films/series/the-last-modernist-the-complete-works-of-bela-tarr">The Last Modernist</a>,” right at the outset sets up a juxtaposition of scenes that clearly sets out the filmmaker’s stance on the state of contemporary Hungarian society. The film’s protagonist Andras (Andras Szabo), who we first see playing violin for the patients at the mental hospital where he works, gets into a vicious fight with a patient who refuses an injection he is trying to give him. In the next scene in a bar (where Andras spends most of his free time, given his proclivity for drinking), a man resists being tossed for refusing to pay for his drinks. In other words, there is no difference between “normal” society and a mental institution, at least in the world of <i>The Outsider</i>. Andras struggles to cope with the difficulties of existing in this world, and resists, just as strenuously as the mental patient and the deadbeat bar patron, becoming a conventional, “responsible” member of society. From the many lengthy conversations that make up much of this film, details about Andras’ life emerge: initially a promising musical talent, he was thrown out of conservatory training, and has spent his life working many different jobs, including his nursing work at the mental hospital. He loses this job, as well as most of the others, due to his drinking. Andras, true to the film’s title, cannot fit in either the artistic world or the working world, and he makes as much of a mess of his relationships with women as he does with his jobs. He insists on paying child support for a woman whose child is probably not his, which puts a strain on his relationship with Kata (Jolan Fodor), another woman he takes up with afterward. One of the film’s best scenes occurs in a nightclub where Andras is working as a DJ, when he has an argument with Kata, and where they scream at each other over the ear-splitting volume of the dance music. The sonic wall preventing the two from hearing each other reflects the wall Andras has put around himself, an ultimately futile attempt at insulation from the demands that society insists he conform to.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The style of <i>The Outsider </i>will be a bit of a surprise to those more familiar with Tarr’s later works, beginning from <i>Damnation </i>(1988), to his latest and reportedly last film <i>The Turin Horse </i>(which is <a href="http://www.filmlinc.com/films/on-sale/the-turin-horse1">currently playing</a> at the Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center at Lincoln Center). In contrast to the deliberately paced, somber black-and-white films with hypnotically long takes and incantatory repetition (especially in the case of <i>The Turin Horse</i>), <i>The Outsider </i>has a documentary-like, self-consciously “realist” style that has been compared to the films of John Cassavetes. The rough-and-ready chaotic camera framings, while not as elegant as Tarr’s later works, does effectively convey the working-class struggles depicted in the film, which has potent affinities to other similar kinds of films being made in <st1:place>Eastern Europe</st1:place> at the time. Tarr’s early films, despite their stylistic differences with later ones, show that Tarr consistently had an intense focus on how human beings struggle to interact with and understand the environments they find themselves in.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here's a musical scene from <i>The Outsider</i>:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/BvyNpJWXrZU" width="420"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-76053782540687210642012-01-28T17:44:00.000-05:002012-01-28T17:44:07.647-05:00DVD Review: Atsushi Ogata's "Cast Me If You Can"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rtjd8TX-5Xg/TyRw7phxDAI/AAAAAAAABX8/z-LCkO2Lcms/s1600/Cast+me+if+you+can++-+photo+%234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rtjd8TX-5Xg/TyRw7phxDAI/AAAAAAAABX8/z-LCkO2Lcms/s400/Cast+me+if+you+can++-+photo+%234.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>Cast Me If You Can (Wakiyaku monogatari)</b>. 2010. Directed by <b>Atsushi Ogata</b>. Written by <b>Atsushi Ogata </b>and <b>Akane Shiratori</b>. Produced by <b>Atsushi Ogata</b>, <b>Eric Nyari </b>and <b>Eriko Miyagawa</b>. Cinematography by <b>Yuichi Nagata</b>. Edited by <b>Masahiro Onaga</b>. Music by <b>Jessica de Rooij</b>. Art direction by <b>Kazumi Kobayashi</b>. Sound design by <b>Yasushi Eguchi</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Toru Masuoka </b>(Hiroshi Matsuzaki), <b>Hiromi Nagasaku </b>(Aya), <b>Masahiko Tsugawa </b>(Kenta Matsuzaki), <b>Keiko Matsuzaka </b>(Toshiko Kuroiwa), <b>Tasuku Emoto </b>(Masaru), <b>Edith Hanson </b>(Jane), <b>Ai Maeda </b>(Sakura), <b>Atsushi Ogata </b>(Convenience Store Manager), <b>Akira Emoto </b>(Homeless).<br />
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/2012/01/dvd-review-cast-me-if-you-can-romantic-comedy-from-atsushi-ogata.php">Twitch</a>.)<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">The Japanese title of Atsushi Ogata’s romantic comedy <i>Cast Me If you Can</i> is “Wakiyaku Monogatari,” which translates as “Tale of the Supporting Actor.” The supporting actor in this particular tale, and the main character in this story, is Hiroshi Matsuzaki (Toru Masuoka), a long-time bit player currently playing a cop on a TV drama. He harbors dreams of finally becoming a leading man, and seems close to that opportunity, having been cast as the lead in a Woody Allen remake. He is very good at disappearing into his roles; in fact, he is so good at this that this ability bleeds into his real life, to the point that he is continually mistaken for other people, a running gag that this film makes potent and funny use of. His struggle to assert his own identity is made even more difficult by having to live under the shadow of his father Kenta (Masahiko Tsugawa), a famous playwright. One case of mistaken identity gets Hiroshi embroiled in a tabloid scandal that threatens his big role, and with the help his friend and wannabe spy Masaru (Tasuku Emoto), he sets out to clear his name. In the midst of this chaos, Hiroshi meets Aya (Hiromi Nagasaku), an aspiring actress; while they begin a tentative courtship, Hiroshi’s identity issues and many other distractions threaten their budding relationship.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ilDuT7u5fqw/TyRxcAK-C5I/AAAAAAAABYE/7siECVwXIlA/s1600/Cast+me+if+you+can++-+photo+%231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ilDuT7u5fqw/TyRxcAK-C5I/AAAAAAAABYE/7siECVwXIlA/s400/Cast+me+if+you+can++-+photo+%231.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With <i>Cast Me If You Can</i>, Ogata attempts a mode of filmmaking which is quite unusual in a Japanese context: an American-style romantic comedy. He employs much more subtle humor than the typical zany, variety-show style slapstick which is more common in Japanese comedies. Instead, Ogata grounds his humor in dialog and situations in which he both honors and tweaks romantic comedy formula, which make the humor that much more potent. One great example is late in the film, in which Hiroshi delivers his passionate confession to Aya in the convenience store where she works; while fulfilling its normal function in this sort of film, the location of the scene, as well as its priceless punchline, also cleverly parodies this often clichéd convention. The films of Woody Allen are an explicitly acknowledged influence, not only in the narrative but in several walk-and-talk camera setups. But similarly to the way Ogata handles the romantic comedy genre, this doesn’t at all feel derivative, but is instead nicely woven into the rich fabric of this film. Also remarkable is how exportable and cross-cultural the comedy is here (consciously so; Ogata originally wrote his script in English and translated it to Japanese), and the generosity with which all the characters are treated, which filters down into the smallest roles. The main characters are all surrounded with vivid supporting ones, all of whom make memorable impressions, from Hiroshi’s dwarf-like agent and a flirtatious female arresting officer, to a parallel romance involving a café waitress that plays out in pantomime in the background. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As with any romantic comedy, the success of such an endeavor rises and falls on the chemistry between its leads, and <i>Cast Me If You Can </i>certainly scores here. Toru Masuoka is nicely understated as the hapless victim of mistaken identity, and effectively renders his character’s transformation as love is introduced into his life. But the major standout is Hiromi Nagasaku, who is terrific as a plucky and energetic young woman who is relentless in the pursuit of her dreams, and who lights up every scene she is in with her warm, and irresistibly sunny persona.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Cast Me If You Can </i>is now available on DVD from Seminal Films, and can be purchased at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0060ANYRA/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=thebourcineco-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0060ANYRA">Amazon.</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thebourcineco-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B0060ANYRA" style="border-bottom-style: none !important; border-color: initial !important; border-image: initial !important; border-left-style: none !important; border-right-style: none !important; border-top-style: none !important; border-width: initial !important; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
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Also, if you're in the L.A. area, there will be a screening and Q&A with director Atsushi Ogata and producer Eriko Miyagawa on March 1, hosted by USC and the Japan Film Society. <a href="http://cinema.usc.edu/events/event.cfm?id=12385">Click here</a> for screening info.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DdaaDQj7P4g" width="420"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-41814582923319920052011-11-26T23:28:00.001-05:002011-11-27T01:15:36.643-05:002011 African Diaspora International Film Festival Review Round-up<div class="MsoNormal">The 19<sup>th</sup> edition of the <a href="http://nyadiff.org/">African Diaspora International Film Festival</a> screens in <st1:state><st1:place>New York</st1:place></st1:state> from November 25 through <st1:date day="13" month="12" year="2011">December 13, 2011</st1:date> at Quad Cinema, Teachers College at <st1:place><st1:placename>Columbia</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>University</st1:placetype></st1:place>, the Thalia Theatre, and the <st1:place><st1:placename>Schomburg</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> for Black Culture. This year’s festival features 63 films from 37 countries. Some of the most interesting and eye-opening selections are the documentaries, a few of which I’ll review here. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>An African Election </b>(Jarreth Merz, Ghana/Switzerland, 2010)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3sVDSfa6fzE/TtG2PPkecuI/AAAAAAAABXc/s9x1sEchpiU/s1600/An_African_Election.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3sVDSfa6fzE/TtG2PPkecuI/AAAAAAAABXc/s9x1sEchpiU/s400/An_African_Election.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jarreth Merz’s revealing and meticulously crafted film examines in great detail, and with unprecedented access, the inner workings of the 2008 presidential election in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Ghana</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The election of Barack Obama earlier that year was a major aspirational influence on all participants in the Ghanaian election, who very consciously saw themselves as an important test case and example to the rest of the African continent. The major question was whether an African country, especially one with a long history of rulers seizing power through military coups, could conduct a fully democratic election without it descending into the chaos of civil war. Merz vividly details the twists, turns, and high drama of the 2008 election, especially the contentious period when, with neither of the two major political parties achieving a majority, a runoff election had to be held. Things got especially tense during the runoff, with accusations of fraud and vote tampering flying fast and furious on both sides. And even though a winner was eventually chosen without a bloody civil war, which becomes the cause for celebration (and no doubt, relief), unsettling issues remain unresolved. Not the least of these are the many problems with the voting process itself, which often resulted in long lines and many hours of waiting for people wishing to cast their ballots. Also, a civil war being narrowly averted seems to be a rather low bar with which to measure the success of an election. Still, Merz’s film excels in its penetrating examination of democracy in action, which, while not always a pretty sight to behold, is always fascinating to watch. <i>An African Election </i>will screen for an Oscar-qualifying weeklong run at the Quad, from November 30 through December 6, with shows at <st1:time hour="13" minute="0">1pm</st1:time> and <st1:time hour="19" minute="25">7:25pm</st1:time> daily. Jarreth Merz will appear for Q&A sessions on December 2, 3, and 4.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>The Story of Lover's Rock </b>(Menelik Shabazz, UK, 2011)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Music documentaries are a frequent fixture at ADIFF, and a great example is this year’s opening night film <i>The Story of Lover’s Rock</i>, which sheds valuable light on an underappreciated and largely neglected music movement in 1970’s and 1980’s Britain known as “Lover’s Rock,” which was a distinct genre of reggae music which originated among black British people who were born to immigrants from Jamaica and other parts of the Caribbean. Lover’s Rock was a softer, more romantic version of reggae that was a sharp contrast to the harder-edged, political, Rastafarian influenced music coming from <st1:country-region><st1:place>Jamaica</st1:place></st1:country-region>. This music, along with its culture of “sound systems,” (live venues that served as an alternative network to mainstream radio, which mostly ignored Lover’s Rock), and methods of dancing to these baby-making tunes, were an escape from the racism and violence young people experienced at the time. <i>The Story of Lover’s Rock</i> makes a powerful case for this musical genre as a mostly unacknowledged influence on British popular music, which spawned such figures as The Police, Culture Club and UB40. Lover’s Rock music, even though its practitioners are still not widely known outside diehard devotees, remains alive through its travels to other countries, especially <st1:country-region><st1:place>Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region>, where latter-day fans eagerly embraced this music, and helped revive the careers of some of its artists. <i>The Story of Lover’s Rock </i>will play a weeklong run at the Quad, from November 30 through December 6, with shows at <st1:time hour="21" minute="40">9:40pm</st1:time> daily. Shabazz will appear for Q&A’s at the Quad on November 30, December 1, 2, and 3.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>The First Rasta </b>(Hélène Lee and Christophe Farnarier, France/Jamaica, 2011)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jamaican reggae music is aesthetically, spiritually and politically permeated by Rastafarian ideology, which revered Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie I, and advocated healthy living, organic living, and of course, ganja. Many know at least this much about Rastafarianism; what most may not know about is the story of the man who began the movement, Leonard Percival Howell, who is largely forgotten, even by those who follow a Rastafarian lifestyle. Howell is the subject of the impressively researched and eye-opening documentary <i>The First Rasta</i>, which seeks to uncover the hidden, and governmentally suppressed, history of the man who existed as a constant thorn in the side to <st1:country-region><st1:place>Jamaica</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s government, both during and after British colonialism. Howell lived his early life as a sailor traveling the world, where he picked up ideas from everywhere he went: Communism, Indian philosophy, Marcus Garvey’s back-to-Africa movement, the Harlem Renaissance. With this eclectic mix of influences, he began a colony in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Jamaica</st1:place></st1:country-region> known as Pinnacle, where the guiding principle was self-reliance in every aspect, including farming and even creating a separate monetary system. Howell and his people were often persecuted by the authorities, and Howell spent some time in prison, and was even institutionalized in a mental facility at one point. An especially revealing fact emerges in the documentary: the most well-known aspects of Rastafarianism, wearing dreadlocks and smoking ganja, were directly influenced by Indians living in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Jamaica</st1:place></st1:country-region> at the time. Howell also had an influence on reggae music as well; Bob Marley, the world’s most famous and celebrated reggae musician, derived his nickname, “Tuff Gong,” from Leonard Howell, who was known as “Gong.” <i>The First Rasta</i>’s most moving passages concern music, much of it sung by now elderly followers of Howell, who are unstinting in their praise of their leader. <i>The First Rasta </i>screens at the Quad in a weeklong run from November 30 through December 6, with shows at <st1:time hour="17" minute="25">5:25pm</st1:time> daily.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Love Lockdown </b>(Nadia Hallgren, US, 2010)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">A little closer to home (New York City, that is) is the short documentary “Love Lockdown,” which addresses the impact of the radio show “Lockdown Love,” which is a forum for loved ones of incarcerated people. “Love Lockdown” follows one woman, Shoshanna, who uses the show to send messages to her boyfriend Felix, the father of her children who is currently in jail, as she anxiously waits to hear if he will be given a 10 year prison sentence. The film sensitively follows Shoshanna’s struggles to cope as a single mother, with the fate of her family, and the possible long absence of the father, threatened with the looming sentence that hangs like a scimitar over all their heads. The voice of the DJ is a conduit for the most impassioned and heartfelt feelings of those like Shoshanna who use it to communicate with their lovers behind bars. Behind this lies the backdrop of the overwhelmingly black and Latino makeup of those incarcerated in <st1:country-region><st1:place>U.S.</st1:place></st1:country-region> prisons, which of course is its own sad commentary. “Love Lockdown” screens November 27 at Teacher’s College at <st1:place><st1:placename>Columbia</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>University</st1:placetype></st1:place> and December 8 at the <st1:place><st1:placename>Schomburg</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Center</st1:placetype></st1:place>, both times preceding Benedict A. Dorsey’s feature <i>The Human Web</i>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">For more information on these and other festival films, and to purchase tickets, visit the <a href="http://nyadiff.org/">ADIFF website</a>.</div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-37168814672846577422011-10-19T22:56:00.000-05:002011-10-19T22:56:20.611-05:00Preview: "Daggers: The Short Festival of Short Horror Films"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZeJgwphNXsU/Tp-bgKq131I/AAAAAAAABWw/bw_5rW0QAh0/s1600/next+floor+-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZeJgwphNXsU/Tp-bgKq131I/AAAAAAAABWw/bw_5rW0QAh0/s400/next+floor+-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The third edition of “<a href="http://www.madmuseum.org/events/daggers">Daggers: The Short Festival of Short Horror</a>,” a two-hour program of short horror films from around the world, returns to the Museum of Arts and Design in New York on October 20 at 7pm and October 22 at 3pm.<span> </span>“Daggers,” curated by noted film critic Peter Gutierrez, puts a premium on displaying the eclectic nature of the horror film genre, and the diverse directorial talents working in this mode of expression, which is often unrecognized by the general public, who are used to the horror film being reduced to a very narrow set of stereotypical stylistics, mostly of the slasher film variety.<span> </span>“Daggers” admirably works as a corrective to this notion, and finds its chosen directors employing a broad range of stylistic expression, encompassing comedy, gore, surrealism, psychological horror, the musical, animation, and many other artistic modes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One interesting aspect of this year’s edition is that it affords us the opportunity to see earlier works by film directors who have garnered considerable attention on the film festival circuit.<span> </span>The three films I chose to preview are very intriguing examples.<span> </span>“New Born” is an Israeli film by Navot Papsushado, the co-director (with Aharon Keshales) of <i>Rabies</i>, which is billed as <st1:country-region><st1:place>Israel</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s first slasher horror film.<span> </span>“New Born” is a much subtler work than that subsequent feature, a moody psychological film about a couple who may or may not have a baby who may or may not be alive or even exist.<span> </span>Two viewings of this film were not quite sufficient for me to completely discern what exactly was going on, but Papsushado does a very good job suggesting just enough allusive, sinister behavior to keep us interested.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Next Floor,” the clear winner of the three films I previewed, is a sly, sardonic, and satirical French-Canadian film by Denis Villeneuve, who subsequently made two acclaimed features: <i>Polytechnique </i>(2007) and the Oscar-nominated <i>Incendies </i>(2009).<span> </span>The intense drama of those two films are a sharp contrast to “Next Floor,” which features a group of pampered rich partaking of an impossibly opulent meal, with stomach-turning close-ups of knives cutting into animal flesh and seafood, presided over by a maitre d’ who, with the use of a uniquely constructed mansion, turns this feast into an elaborate, sadistic, ritualized sort of carnage.<span> </span>The roles of master and servant are completely flipped around, and while the servants cater to their clients’ culinary desires, they very much have the upper hand and completely control the fates of the diners.<span> </span>“Next Floor,” in conception, editing, and effects, is often breathtaking in its audacity and invention, and is a major highlight of this year’s festival.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0LJWVoY1cHQ/Tp-XeMWH66I/AAAAAAAABWo/i-OuuHmcWlM/s1600/Treevenge-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0LJWVoY1cHQ/Tp-XeMWH66I/AAAAAAAABWo/i-OuuHmcWlM/s400/Treevenge-1.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Treevenge” is by Jason Eisener, who went on to make <i>Hobo with a Shotgun</i>, a modern day homage to exploitation movies, and this earlier short is as blunt and unsubtle as that feature.<span> </span>The premise is hilariously brutal and simple: Christmas trees, portrayed in the film as fully sentient creatures, stage a bloody revolt on their sadistic human masters, who cut them down, burn them, and humiliate them with tinsel and lights.<span> </span>It’s the gore-horror version of <i>The Secret Life of Plants</i>.<span> </span>The cheap gore effects and the broad playing by its cast add to this film’s goofy charm.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For more information on these and other films in the program, and to purchase tickets, visit the Museum of Arts and Design's <a href="http://www.madmuseum.org/events/daggers">website</a>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</span>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-88133787480828272442011-09-27T21:02:00.000-05:002011-09-27T21:02:57.555-05:00Review: Joe Swanberg's "Art History"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XFO3inyETB4/ToJ-rapN-PI/AAAAAAAABWc/iM5RZc_KvAk/s1600/ArtHistory2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XFO3inyETB4/ToJ-rapN-PI/AAAAAAAABWc/iM5RZc_KvAk/s400/ArtHistory2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Art History</b>. 2011. Produced, directed and edited by <b>Joe Swanberg</b>. Written by <b>Joe Swanberg</b>, <b>Josephine Decker</b>, <b>Kent Osborne</b>, <b>Adam Wingard</b>, and <b>Kris Swanberg</b>. Photographed by <b>Adam Wingard </b>and <b>Joe Swanberg</b>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Cast: <b>Josephine Decker </b>(Juliette), <b>Joe Swanberg </b>(Sam), <b>Kent Osborne </b>(Eric), <b>Adam Wingard </b>(Bill), <b>Kris Swanberg </b>(Hillary).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/2011/09/art-history-review.php">Twitch</a>.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The filming of a sex scene proves to be no simple process (if indeed it ever is) in Joe Swanberg’s <i>Art History</i>, a complex and unsettling examination of the creative process and the materials involved, both human and mechanical, in the making of art, as well as the psychological pressures that go along with it.<span> </span>Film director Sam (Swanberg) is shooting a sex scene that presumably occurs during a couple’s one night stand.<span> </span>The film opens both <i>in medias res </i>and <i>in flagrante delicto</i>, with a very explicit depiction of the characters having sex, with full frontal nudity by both participants.<span> </span>We immediately know that this is not “real,” as we hear Sam’s off-screen instructions to his actors during the scene.<span> </span>The film within the film has a very different visual style than the one that surrounds it; the film Sam is making is rough-hewn and handheld, not unlike the real Swanberg’s early films.<span> </span><i>Art History </i>itself<i> </i>takes the opposite stylistic tack, shot almost entirely with long, static takes, and much more meticulously framed and composed, with many scenes resembling iris shots, the image in the center surrounded by a ring of darkness.<span> </span>There are a couple of shots that are strikingly lovely, especially one of a shimmering pool with patterns of sunlight that wouldn’t be out of place in an avant-garde film.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Art History </i>invites us to read it as a self-critique of the film director, or as the title indicates, the creative artist generally, as a sort of vampire who preys on the intimate details of those who are used as the objects of this art.<span> </span>Swanberg himself says as much in his director’s statement, where he writes: “This film is an apology to anyone I have hurt because of the way I work or because of my own emotional recklessness. As the title suggests, I hope all of these instances are in the past.”<span> </span>The atmosphere of <i>Art History </i>is hermetic and claustrophobic; the film takes place entirely in the single location of the house where the film within the film is being made.<span> </span>The only acknowledgement of a world outside the film set is the sound of an airplane that intrudes at one point on the scene.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Juliette (Josephine Decker) and Eric (Kent Osborne), the actors in the scene, are told by Sam to improvise their dialog, during which they reveal details of their personal relationships during their sex scene.<span> </span>Sam is mostly unconcerned with the specific details of this dialog, concentrating instead on the technical details of lighting, sound, and the physical actions of his two actors.<span> </span>The intimacy of the scene bleeds into the “real life” outside the film, as Juliette and Eric explore their real attraction to one another, having actual sex off camera during the shoot.<span> </span>A simultaneously humorous and disturbing moment occurs when Sam turns his attention from checking footage he has shot to peer in on Juliette and Eric as they have sex.<span> </span>The film shoot runs into a major complication when it becomes clear that Sam and Juliette seem to have some sort of an off-camera relationship as well, forming an inchoate and somewhat confusing love triangle.<span> </span>This sex act seems to upset the delicate balance of the shoot, as Sam’s jealousy of Juliette and Eric’s relationship gradually becomes more apparent.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Swanberg has come a long way artistically from earlier films such as <i><a href="http://www.kissingonthemouth.com/">Kissing on the Mouth</a></i>, <i><a href="http://www.lolthemovie.com/">LOL</a></i>, and<i> <a href="http://www.hannahtakesthestairs.com/">Hannah Takes the Stairs</a></i>; as interesting as those films were, one still got the sense that Swanberg was working out his stylistics, and that framing and composition were very much secondary concerns.<span> </span>However, Swanberg right now is in the midst of a creatively fecund and boldly experimental phase of his career, and has been incredibly prolific in the past year.<span> </span>Swanberg premiered three films at two major festivals within a month of each other this year: <i><a href="http://www.sundanceselects.com/films/uncle-kent">Uncle Kent</a> </i>at Sundance, and <i>Art History </i>and <i>Silver Bullets </i>at <st1:state><st1:place>Berlin</st1:place></st1:state>.<span> </span>Another film, <i><a href="http://www.ifcfilms.com/films/autoerotic">Autoerotic</a> </i>(co-directed with Adam Wingard), recently opened in <st1:state><st1:place>New York</st1:place></st1:state>, and two more films are set to be released later this year.<span> </span><i>Art History </i>so far is the only one of these films I’ve been able to see, but if this is any indication of the quality of his other recent work, I’m eagerly looking forward to seeing the rest of them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Art History </i>is now playing at the reRun Gastropub Theater through September 29.<span> </span>For screening times and to purchase tickets, visit <a href="http://reruntheater.com/index.php">reRun’s website</a>. The film is also included as part of film distributor Factory 25’s box set “Joe Swanberg: Collected Films 2011,” a limited-edition subscription in which buyers will receive four films over the course of a year: <i>Silver Bullets</i>, <i>Art History</i>, and the upcoming films <i>The Zone </i>and <i>Privacy Setting</i>.<span> </span>This release includes bonus materials for each film, including vinyl soundtracks and set photography booklets.<span> </span>For more information, and to order the set, visit <a href="http://www.factorytwentyfive.com/joe-swanberg-collected-films-2/">Factory 25’s website</a>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ob_Q55FhzBo" width="440"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-47408559464925555012011-09-25T19:41:00.001-05:002011-09-25T19:52:12.270-05:00Review: Anne Sewitsky's "Happy, Happy"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j1RtYzf-nks/Tn_AcWi5tFI/AAAAAAAABWY/NU_0TVHsbeY/s1600/Happy%252C+Happy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j1RtYzf-nks/Tn_AcWi5tFI/AAAAAAAABWY/NU_0TVHsbeY/s400/Happy%252C+Happy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Happy, Happy (Sykt lykkelig)</b>. 2010. Directed by <b>Anne Sewitsky</b>. Written by <b>Ragnhild Tronvoll</b>. Produced by <b>Synnove Horsdal</b>. Cinematography by <b>Anna Myking</b>. Edited by <b>Christoffer Heie</b>. Music by <b>Stein Berge Svendsen</b>. Art direction by <b>Camilla Lindbraten</b>. Sound design by <b>Gunn Tove Gronsberg</b>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cast: <b>Agnes Kittelsen</b> (Kaja), <b>Joachim Rafaelsen</b> (Eirik), <b>Maibritt Saerens</b> (Elisabeth), <b>Henrik Rafaelsen</b> (Sigve), <b>Oskar Hernæs Brandsø</b> (Theodor), <b>Ram Shihab Ebedy</b> (Noa), <b>Heine Totland</b> (Choral director).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(Note: this review has also been cross-posted on <a href="http://twitchfilm.com/reviews/2011/09/happy-happy-review.php">Twitch</a>.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anne Sewitsky’s debut feature <i>Happy, Happy</i>, winner of the World Cinema Jury Prize at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, is a story involving two couples, infidelity, and marital strife coming to the surface after lengthy repression, that goes down smoothly and easily – in fact, far too smoothly and easily, which is the film’s main problem. Good performances by the four principal actors are subsumed in a scenario that dials the cutesiness and whimsy up to 11, which sits uneasily with material that seems as if it should be more traumatic for the characters. But again, it all goes down easily – not for nothing was this film chosen as <st1:country-region><st1:place>Norway</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s foreign film Oscar entry.</div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Kaja (Agnes Kittelsen), a woman who is ever the eternal optimist, despite her rather distant and chilly relationship with husband Eirik (Joachim Rafaelsen), with whom she hasn’t made love in a year – the resistance is all on his end. Another couple, Sigve (Henrik Rafaelsen) and Elisabeth (Maibritt Saerens), moves into the house across from them. All of them live in a remote town, a snowy place far from the city. There doesn’t seem to be much to do in this place, and the main activity in town comes courtesy of the local church; Sigve and Elisabeth were choir singers where they came from, and they join the local choir also. They play board games soon after they meet, revealing the dynamics of both couples. Playing “The Couples Game,” especially, causes Kaja to reveal their lack of a sexual relationship to the other couple, and to reveal herself as someone extremely lacking in guile and completely an open book to everyone. Her neediness and clinging to her husband, as Eirik cruelly tells her one night, is the cause of his recent lack of attraction. However, there is another reason Eirik has distanced himself from his wife, which becomes evident in due course. Similarly, Sigve and Elisabeth moved to this remote place because of a troubled aspect of their marriage that has lain beneath the surface of their outwardly placid demeanor, but which is revealed through their interactions with their neighbors.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">All of this sounds like the premise of a Bergmanesque study of troubled marriage (a sort of <i>Scenes from Two Marriages</i>), but Sewitsky and her screenwriter Ragnhild Tronvoll opt for a much lighter tone. This is an interesting narrative tactic, and a potentially intriguing one; unfortunately, this choice renders the proceedings rather saccharine, especially with the device of a male choir that pops up frequently between scenes with songs commenting on the action, functioning as a gospel-singing Greek chorus. Another major miscalculation is the subplot involving Sigve and Elisabeth’s adopted Ethiopian son Noa (Ram Shihab Totland), and Kaja and Eirik’s son Theodor (Oskar Hernæs Brandsø). While their scenes seem intended to represent how their parent’s problems are passed down to their children, they too often (especially when they play “master and slave”) come off as gratuitous, unnecessary distractions from the main storyline.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Happy, Happy </i>opened September 16 in New York and Los Angeles. For more information, visit Magnolia Pictures' <a href="http://www.magpictures.com/profile.aspx?id=0b4813dd-81e3-42d6-81c7-cf930d57704e">website</a>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/X34HSqT8jyA" width="440"></iframe>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-20144504558083530212011-09-23T00:43:00.001-05:002011-09-23T22:42:45.305-05:00"Yeonghwa: Korean Film Today" Review: Yim Soon-rye's "Rolling Home with a Bull"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jcAiesMb14I/TnwYTqqhqII/AAAAAAAABWM/ttoDEMuyVUo/s1600/Rolling+Home+with+a+Bull+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jcAiesMb14I/TnwYTqqhqII/AAAAAAAABWM/ttoDEMuyVUo/s400/Rolling+Home+with+a+Bull+%25284%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>Rolling Home with a Bull (Sowa hamkke yeonaenghaneun beop)</b>. 2010. Directed by <b>Yim Soon-rye</b>. Written by <b>Park Kyoung-hee</b>, based on the novel "How to Travel with a Cow"<i> </i>by <b>Kim Do-yeon</b>. Produced by <b>Yang Dong-myung</b>. Cinematography by <b>Park Yeong-jun</b>. Edited by <b>Park Kyoung-sook</b>. Music by <b>Roh Young-sim</b>. Production design by <b>Kim Jong-woo</b>. Art direction by <b>Kim Min-jeong</b>. Sound by <b>Seo Young-june</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Kim Yeong-pil </b>(Choi Sun-ho), <b>Kong Hyo-jin </b>(Lee Hyun-soo), <b>Mek Bo </b>(Han-soo/Peter),<b> Jeon Guk-hwan </b>(Sun-ho's father), <b>Lee Yeong-yi </b>(Sun-ho's mother), <b>Mun Chang-gil </b>(old Buddhist man), <b>Jo Seung-yeon </b>(boy monk's father), <b>Weon Poong-yeon </b>(cow auctioneer), <b>Ahn Do-gyu </b>(boy monk), <b>Jo Moon-eui </b>(policeman), <b>Jeong Weon-jo </b>(Min-gyu), <b>Park Hye-jin </b>(Sun-ho's aunt).<br />
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://newkoreancinema.com/review-rolling-home-with-a-bull-yim-soon-rye-2010-2917">New Korean Cinema</a>.)<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">A humorous, lyrical, and philosophical wonder, <a href="http://chrisbourne.blogspot.com/2009/05/yim-soon-rye-keeping-vision-alive-q-at.html">Yim Soon-rye</a>’s <i>Rolling Home with a Bull</i> is her best film to date, a superior addition to her already impressive body of work. Essentially a Buddhist parable, its free-flowing peripatetic nature, following the path of a lovelorn, failed poet who seeks to escape his home and his own past, is filled with warmth and humanity, its import growing deeper with multiple viewings. The film at first unfolds in a deceptively realistic mode, but then dreams and allegorical visions gradually take over the narrative, pulling the viewer ever so subtly into the rich fabric of its atmosphere, and making the audience a shotgun rider on the spiritual journey taken by its protagonist.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sun-ho (Kim Yeong-pil), in the opening scenes, has had just about all he can take with the backbreaking work on his family farm, deep in the countryside of Kangwon Province. His ears ring with the harsh tones of his bickering parents – his irascible, cantankerous father (Jeon Guk-hwan), and long-suffering mother (Lee Yeong-yi) – all day long as they plow the fields with their trusty work bull. Sun-ho’s father harshly criticizes his son’s impractical and fruitless pursuit of poetry and his habit of coming home late drunk every night. His mother hectors him to get married, and to follow the example of other village men who have taken Southeast Asian women as wives; in her mind, the clock is rapidly ticking, as Sun-ho is now nearly forty. (Much of the film’s humor derives from the verbal dueling of Sun-ho’s parents, the father frequently calling his wife a “hag”; this brings to mind the real-life elderly couple of the Korean documentary <i><a href="http://chrisbourne.blogspot.com/2009/05/old-man-and-ox.html">Old Partner</a> </i>(Lee Chung-ryoul, 2008), which functioned as a paean to bucolic life.) Finally, Sun-ho’s frustration with his parents and his own feelings of personal failure drive him to taking a pickup truck and the family’s bull out on the road, with the aim to sell the bull and use the money to go traveling. The remainder of the film takes the form of a road movie, a familiar staple of Korean cinema, as Sun-ho is forced on a long trip because he can find no buyers for the bull.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Buddhist content becomes ever more apparent as the story progresses; besides the bull itself, which we are told has great symbolic value in Buddhism, other recurring figures appear: a kindly old monk (Moon Chang-gil) and his “Ohmygod Temple”; a father (Jo Seung-yeon) and young son (Ahn Do-gyu) who beg to ride Sun-ho’s bull in order to gain enlightenment; and, in a late scene, the miraculous blooming of a lotus flower. But the most important recurring figure in Sun-ho’s life is the sudden reappearance of his estranged former lover Hyun-soo (Kong Hyo-jin), who informs him of the death of her husband, who also was Sun-ho’s best friend. Hyun-soo’s choice to marry this friend over Sun-ho, we soon learn, is the cause of his retreat from his former city life in <st1:city><st1:place>Seoul</st1:place></st1:city> and a deep resentment that has rendered him unable to pursue any other relationships with women. These characters, and others, serve to guide and instruct Sun-ho on the path he must take to heal his pain and reveal a purpose to his restless wandering.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZrF20lgW3g0/TnwZI8NaJ4I/AAAAAAAABWU/JgI71r7vqSo/s1600/Rolling+Home+with+a+Bull+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZrF20lgW3g0/TnwZI8NaJ4I/AAAAAAAABWU/JgI71r7vqSo/s400/Rolling+Home+with+a+Bull+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is all guided by the unerringly masterful hand of Yim Soon-rye, aided by Park Kyoung-hee’s beautifully written screenplay, based on Kim Do-yeon’s novel <i>How to Travel with a Cow </i>(the film’s Korean title is <i>How to Travel with a Bull</i>), Park Yeong-jun's richly textured cinematography (the Red One digital images nicely capture the beauty of Korea’s countryside), and a well-placed Peter, Paul and Mary <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stwt_ew6Bac">folk tune</a>. As usual, Yim elicits great performances, which in this case go well beyond their allegorical function; Kim Yeong-pil and Kong Hyo-jin are especially great in the drinking scenes that most immediately recall Hong Sang-soo in the way their personal histories spill out as easily as the many bottles of soju they consume. And last but not least, the titular bull is a compelling, sympathetic character in its own right; while not achieving the sublime depths of Bresson’s <a href="http://www.criterion.com/current/posts/370-au-hasard-balthazar">Balthazar</a>, it’s at least in the ballpark.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Rolling Home with a Bull </i>screens at the <st1:place><st1:placetype>Museum</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Modern Art</st1:placename></st1:place> on September 23 at <st1:time hour="16" minute="30">4:30</st1:time> as part of the film series “<a href="http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/films/1205">Yeonghwa: Korean FilmToday</a>,” screening September 22 through October 2. For more information, and to purchase tickets, visit MoMA’s <a href="http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/films/1205">website</a>. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><iframe frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.dailymotion.com/embed/video/xf2dyo?hideInfos=1" width="440"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2100515514999421802.post-87226693157924606052011-09-21T21:48:00.002-05:002011-09-21T22:19:31.822-05:00"Yeonghwa: Korean Film Today" Review: Shin Su-won's "Passerby #3 (Rainbow)"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hIK0qYqgKig/TnqfRKBTI_I/AAAAAAAABWE/5-wuv9-Dccw/s1600/passerby3_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hIK0qYqgKig/TnqfRKBTI_I/AAAAAAAABWE/5-wuv9-Dccw/s400/passerby3_02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b>Passerby #3 (Rainbow)</b>. 2009. Written and directed by <b>Shin Su-won</b>. Produced by <b>Shin Su-won </b>and <b>Kim Mi-jung</b>. Cinematography by <b>Han Tai-yong</b>. Edited by <b>Lee Hyun-mee</b>. Music by <b>Moon Sung-nam</b>. Art direction by <b>Kang Ji-hyun</b>. Sound by <b>Lee Taek-hee</b>.<br />
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Cast: <b>Park Hyun-young </b>(Kim Ji-wan), <b>Beack So-myung </b>(Si-young), <b>Yi Me-youn </b>(Producer Choi), <b>Kim Jae-rok </b>(Sang-woo), <b>Cho Hyun-sook </b>(Hyun-joo), <b>Yang Jong-hyeon </b>(Ahn Chang-nam), <b>Park Ji-weon</b>, <b>Song Nam-hyeon</b>, <b>Noh Yu-nan </b>(Rainbow band members).<br />
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(Note: this review has been cross-posted on <a href="http://newkoreancinema.com/review-passerby-3-rainbow-shin-su-won-2009-2892">New Korean Cinema</a>.)<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal">The trials and tribulations of being a film director, an oft-told tale in movies, gets a unique and lightly surreal spin in Shin Su-won’s <i>Passerby #3 (Rainbow)</i>, which can be best described as the slightly milder cousin of <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barton_Fink">Barton Fink</a></i>. <i>Passerby #3 </i>features an increasingly unhinged protagonist whose attempts at individual creativity are continually ground under the merciless gearwheels of the conventional wisdom of producers and investors, whose ideas of what sells seemingly shift without rhyme or reason. Ji-wan (Park Hyun-young), after catching the filmmaking bug with her first touch of a camera, impulsively quits her day job, going all in to pursue her dream. Cut to: five years later, with a bratty, demanding teenage son (Si-young, played by Beack So-myung), an increasingly impatient husband (Sung-woo, played by Kim Jae-rok), 15 drafts of her script “House of the Sun,” visions of imaginary ants everywhere, and constant producer rejections, Ji-wan has yet to make her debut. Producer Choi (Yi Me-youn), an old friend of Ji-wan’s, provides her with a last lease on professional life by hiring Ji-wan at her company; but alas, the vicious cycle of script changes, rejections and enforced commercial mainstreaming begins anew. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Inspired by the sight of a rainbow in a puddle that may or may not be a mirage, Ji-wan pursues a new idea, a music-themed film called “Rainbow,” which greatly excites her, but unfortunately meets resistance yet again from Choi and the investors. Choi, taking her cue from her bosses, harshly criticizes Ji-wan’s “psychotic” fantasy-laden script and her “shitty imagination,” giving her the rather insulting gift of the book “How to Write a Script,” so that Ji-wan can come up with an alternate idea. Choi soon relents, forced to try to work with Ji-wan’s original “Rainbow” script when a rival production company launches a project similar to the one Ji-wan is currently writing. Unfortunately, Ji-wan’s travails with Choi eventually lead to the bitter conclusion that there are really no friends in the movie business.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Wa_WZBpUYs/TnqfyZB2IkI/AAAAAAAABWI/wtdmNC9mtWg/s1600/passerby3_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Wa_WZBpUYs/TnqfyZB2IkI/AAAAAAAABWI/wtdmNC9mtWg/s400/passerby3_01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Just as Ji-wan is bullied in the pursuit of her art, her son Si-young is bullied in the pursuit of his, by an upperclassman at school who taunts and intimidates him as they practice together in the school rock band, and swipes the new guitar Si-young’s mother bought him. This paralleling of two creative people whose attempts to fully express their talents are thwarted by intimidating forces is but one example of the depth and sensitivity of characterization that vividly breathes life into what could have been an irredeemably clichéd scenario.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Passerby #3 (Rainbow</i>), Shin’s debut feature, which won best Korean film at the Jeonju International Film Festival and best Asian-Middle Eastern film at the Tokyo International Film Festival (both in 2010), is at least partly autobiographical. Similarly to her film’s protagonist, Shin quit her teaching job in 2002 to enter film school and pursue filmmaking while raising two children. Again, like her main character, Shin had also been preparing a music-themed film before making this one, and indeed, many musical elements remain in her story. However, Shin insists that the events occurring in her film are heavily fictionalized. Nevertheless, based on the portrait Shin paints of the Korean film industry here, one could be forgiven for concluding that it must be a miracle that any personal, non-derivative films manage to be made in <st1:country-region><st1:place>Korea</st1:place></st1:country-region> at all. <i>Passerby #3</i>, of course, is itself proof positive that such films are indeed being made, and are by no means rare. The performances in the film are, for the most part, just as multifaceted as its narrative. Park Hyun-young is especially memorable as the spineless sad sack who eventually finds the courage to be more than a bit player in her own drama, while Yi Me-youn, as the producer, reveals deeper layers that complicate her role as the villainous killer of creativity she initially seems to be. The only character here that feels miscalculated is that of Ji-wan’s son Si-young. As played by Beack So-myung, Si-young comes off as such an obnoxious jerk, and is so merciless in his verbal take-downs of his mother, that it’s difficult to feel sympathy for his artistic struggles. Still, this only slightly mars what is otherwise an affecting, impressive introduction to an interesting new director well-worth watching.<br />
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<i>Passerby #3 (Rainbow) </i>screens at the Museum of Modern Art on September 22 at 4:30 and September 25 at 4:30 as part of "<a href="http://www.koreasociety.org/arts/film/yeonghwa_korean_film_todaymoma.html">Yeonghwa: Korean Film Today</a>," a small but impressive snapshot of recent Korean cinema. A joint presentation of MoMA and the <a href="http://www.koreasociety.org/">Korea Society</a>, the series runs from September 22 through October 2. For more information on this and other films in the series, and to purchase tickets, visit MOMA's <a href="http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/films/1205">website</a>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZE_K39a05I8" width="440"></iframe></div>Author: Christopher Bournehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16561567474860056684noreply@blogger.com0