From the Front Row

Teasing "Les Misérables"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 30 May 2012 15:08:00 +0000

Chills.

Video: 'Les Miserables' movie trailer

Les Misérables opens December 14.

On "The Dictator"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 24 May 2012 02:49:00 +0000

The problem with Cohen's characters is that they are more suited to a shorter, sketch format and feel strained when stretched over feature length. "Borat" was something akin to lightning in a bottle, and somehow sustained its comedic brilliance for its entire length, employing a brand of social satire that has been mostly missing from his subsequent features. "The Dictator" comments somewhat on current events, but in a much more heavy-handed way. That is not to say that it doesn't feature moments of comic inspiration, but it also drags due to its loose inclusion of a more typical plot structure. The pranks Cohen would pull on unsuspecting citizens were always a highlight of his films, and they seem sorely missing here.

Click here to read my full review.

Trailer: "The Great Gatsby"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 23 May 2012 02:11:00 +0000

I was hoping Baz Luhrmann would tone down his usual style somewhat for his big screen adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic novel, but it seems like he's done just the opposite.

I'm a bit skeptical of this project, but perhaps Luhrmann will be well suited for visualizing the garish, empty excesses of Gatsby's insular life. You can check out the trailer on Apple or watch it below.

The Great Gatsby will be released on December 25, 2012.

Soundtrack Spotlight: "Harry Potter" vs. "Twilight"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 23 May 2012 01:58:00 +0000

As a general rule, I'm not usually a big fan of re-recordings of scores I love. The original recordings are almost always superior, and the rerecordings often feel redundant and superfluous. Sometimes, however, a reinterpretation of a score can open it up, enhancing the experience that, while not necessarily better than the original, allows us to look at a beloved piece of music from a new angle.

The City of Prague Philharmonic excels at such recordings, and has recently released two excellent albums featuring music from two of the biggest franchises out there - Harry Potter and Twilight.

While I doubt many people would argue that the Harry Potter series has been stronger musically (and artistically), the music from the Twilight Saga has perhaps been its strongest asset.

The two disc Harry Potter collection features music from all 8 of the films, but skews most heavily to the franchise's first four entries, Sorcerer's Stone, Chamber of Secrets, Prisoner of Azkaban, and Goblet of Fire. The album begins with John Williams' iconic "Hedwig's Theme," which really doesn't sound all that different from its original film version. Ditto "Harry's Wondrous World," the joyful theme for Harry's newfound magical home. It isn't until the third track, "Nimbus 2000," that the music begins to diverge from its original counterpart. In "Nimbus 2000," the orchestra plays with Williams' Quidditch theme, interpreting it in a fresh, fun and playful new way. The rest of the score, and indeed the entirety of "Chamber of Secrets" (which suffered from Williams' lack of involvement), sticks disappointingly close to the original recordings. They sound great, but if you already have the original soundtrack albums, then there is little need to add this CD to your collection.

Prisoner of Azkaban on the other hand, which is arguably the finest score of the franchise, is also the highlight of the album. The Prague Philharmonic's epic interpretation of the song "Double Trouble" (featuring lyrics from Shakespeare's Macbeth) is easily the album's highlight, soaring to heights that the original recorded never did (but had no reason to). Freed of the constraints of fitting onscreen action, the music has a chance to breathe, and it's a bit disappointing that the Philharmonic didn't take the opportunity to interpret the rest of the music in a similar way. The melancholy family theme, "A Window to the Past," sounds similarly gorgeous, featuring grand flourishes that punctuate it nicely.

Patrick Doyle's Goblet of Fire, perhaps the grandest score of the series, kicks off the second CD in style, combining the tracks "Quidditch World Cup" and "Foreign Visitors Arrive" into an epic introduction to the score. The rest of the score sticks disappointingly close to the original recording, slowing the action down in places but otherwise not leaving as unique an impression as Doyle's initial compositions. Surprisingly, the album then devotes five whole tracks to perhaps the franchise's weakest score, Nicholas Hooper's Order of the Phoenix, which remain as inconsequential here as they were in their original form (although they're actually a bit beefier here). It's a bit of a shock (and a bit disappointing) that there is only one cue from Hooper's far superior Half-Blood Prince included here, and it's not even the film's chilling central theme, "In Noctem." Instead, it's the mournful "Dumbledore's Farewell" cue, which doesn't really leave a lasting impression of what that score really was.

Likewise, there is only one piece from each half of the two part Deathly Hallows, closing the album out on Alexandre Desplat's "Lily's Theme." It would have been nice if they had used some of Desplat's excellent action material that he composed for the film, perhaps in lieu of some of the gratuitous cues from Order of the Phoenix.

Because of that lack of equal representation, their "Music from the Twilight Saga" album actually fares better on the whole.Carter Burwell's work for the original Twilight actually sounds better here when separated from its more rock/electronic elements, but remains the weakest score of the bunch. The lovely "Edward at Her Bed/Bella's Lullaby" starts the album off nicely, but things don't really kick into high gear until track 8, which kicks off Alexandre Desplat's heartbreaking score for "New Moon." Far and away the best score of the series (and one of the strongest of Desplat's illustrious career), the music from "New Moon" is sweeping and romantic, and almost too good for the dismal film it accompanies. Unfortunately, the Prague Philharmonic doesn't really do much with it to stand apart from the original soundtrack album. I actually think the chamber music arrangements of the score from earlier this year were a much stronger re-interpretation than this overly faithful recreation. The inclusion of "The Meadow," a solo piano rendition of the main theme, is a welcome addition though, since it was not available on the soundtrack album (only as a part of the song-only album that accompanied the film's theatrical release).

Howard Shore's Eclipse attempted to marry the contemporary sounds of Burwell's work with Desplat's more classical sound. The result was a mixed bag with one stand out theme for Jacob that is given a full piano performance in "Jacob Black," while "Wedding Plans" sends the rather dreary affair out on a surprisingly high note.

Burwell returns for Breaking Dawn: Part 1, of which "Love Death Birth," and its grand statement of "Bella's Lullaby" is the definite highlight. The bouncy "A Nova Vida" breaks up the action with a bit of island flavor, before delving into the action-centric later tracks. There is not a strong ending, however, and it's a bit of a surprise that they didn't wait until the release of Breaking Dawn: Part 2 before releasing this collection. While there is a decided lack of new vision for these scores, this collection makes for a nice compilation of the best moments of these scores, faithfully recreated from their original versions. Those that already have the first four soundtrack albums may not find anything of interest here, but casual fans could certainly do worse. For a one CD "best of" collection of four different scores, "Music From the Twilight Saga" hits the mark.

THE COMPLETE HARRY POTTER SOUNDTRACK COLLECTION - ★★½ (out of four)
MUSIC FROM THE TWILIGHT SAGA - ★★★ (out of four)

Trailer: "Hyde Park on Hudson"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sat, 19 May 2012 01:40:00 +0000

Go ahead and reserve a spot on your Oscar predictions for Bill Murray for Best Actor. This year's race could possibly come down to two of our greatest presidents - FDR (Bill Murray) vs. Abraham Lincoln (Daniel Day Lewis).

Hyde Park on Hudson opens December 7. Seriously.

Review | "Elena"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 18 May 2012 05:17:00 +0000

There is something deadly serious about Andrei Zvyagintsev's Elena that is evident right from the start.

It all begins as a somewhat straightforward domestic drama. Zvyagintsev introduces us to Elena (Nadezhda Markina), an aging housewife and former nurse, who is married to a wealthy, emotionally distant doctor named Vladimir (Andrey Smirnov). Both have children from previous marriages, and Elena's son is an unemployed ne'er-do-well who cannot support his own family. Vladimir has no such patience with such irresponsibility, much less when her son relies on his mother for support, and his financial dependence on Elena is a constant point of contention with Vladimir. However, Vladimir's sudden illness puts those concerns on the back burner, and the reappearance of his estranged daughter adds a whole new set of complications. Thrilled to be reunited with her after so many years, yet suddenly faced with his own mortality, Vladimir decides to rewrite his will - so that his daughter is the sole recipient of his wealth.

Nadezhda Markina as the title character in ELENA, a film by Andrei Zvyagintsev.
A Zeitgeist Films release.

Now facing a lifetime of insecurity with a dependent son and his needy family, Elena is presented a nearly impossible situation - a situation that will lead her to an unthinkable decision that will test just how far she is willing to go to save herself, and her children.

Elena is a slow burner. Zvyagintsev allows the tension to simmer over the course of the two hour running time, running on undercurrents of familial strain and fabulous selections from Phillip Glass' "Symphony No. 3." It's almost so understated as to be nonexistent, which is part of what makes it so effective. Zvyagintsev expertly evokes the naturalistic drudgery of life in the Russian bourgeoisie. Elena herself is caught between two world, the lower class world of her roots and the upper class world she married into, bridging the gap over a nonexistent middle class. In a post-Communist Russia, Elena represents a kind of social Darwinism of a country in transition. In that regard it's a deeply cynical film, an austere commentary on what happens when upper class coldness meets lower class desperation. Zvyagintsev's grim vision of human nature is certainly tough, and requires some patience to dig into, but it's a compelling journey. Markina's performance as the titular character is a remarkable study in understatement and unspoken pain, much like the film as a whole. Just when it feels like the film is going nowhere, Zvyagintsev hits us with a punch to the gut that is hard to shake.

The questions Elena raises linger long after the final shot, a haunting mirror of its opening that paints a bleak picture of the future. While its outlook may be pessimistic, there's something strangely alluring about its chilly, graceful darkness. Its meticulous construction accompanied by Markina's performance make Elena a riveting domestic thriller, an elegantly crafted glimpse into modern Russian life that speaks volumes while barely saying a word.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

ELENA | Directed by Andrei Zvyagintsev | Stars Nadezhda Markina, Andrey Smirnov, Yelena Lyadova, Alexey Rozin | Not rated | In Russian with English subtitles | Now playing at the Film Forum in NYC. Opens in LA May 25.

On "Dark Shadows"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 16 May 2012 21:05:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

The film as a whole is a hit or miss affair, with occasional flashes of inspiration. Mostly, however, it’s a bland, mostly unmemorable affair that never commits to being a comedy or a horror film, and is instead an odd mix of both that doesn’t quite work

Click here to read my full review.

Review | "Patience (After Sebald)"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 15 May 2012 02:13:00 +0000

Grant Gee's documentary, Patience (After Sebald), may be the most aptly named film of the year. It is a film that requires a great deal of patience in order to enjoy, but it is not without its rewards.

Although one's enjoyment of Patience may stem from one's appreciation of writer W.G. Max Sebald, whose book, "The Rings of Saturn," provides the inspiration for the film. A meandering collection of observations about the landscape and people of Europe, "The Rings of Saturn" is a lyrical and rambling account of Sebald's journeys through the countryside. In Patience, Gee attempts to recreate that journey through observations by authors and scholars, as well as excerpts from Sebald's work hauntingly read by Jonathan Pryce. The result is a film as frustrating as it is beautiful, as aimless as it is searing.

A still from Grant Gee’s PATIENCE (AFTER SEBALD).
Courtesy of The Cinema Guild.

It's intentionally aimless, of course. That is, after all, part of the appeal of Sebald's stream of consciousness writing, which has been compared to that of Virginia Woolf, whose writing often evoked the seemingly random, breathless ramblings of a mind in motion.

Not so much a typical documentary, Patience (After Sebald) is an impressionistic tour through a work of great literature, retracing Sebald's steps to recapture the textures and feelings of "The Rings of Saturn." Filmed in striking black and white that recaptures the grainy photographs that Sebald was so fond of, the film acts like a kind of tour through Sebald's mind. It is at once an appreciation of his work and an exploration of its meanings, digging deep into its origins and the history that informed it. For those who knew little of Sebald before coming to this film (a group of which I am admittedly a member), Patience will perhaps be something of an enigma. But it is an enchanting enigma nonetheless. The uninitiated are likely to come out knowing just as little about Sebald as they did when they went in, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. This isn't a biographical or historical documentary, it's a poetic one - a free form think piece that is often just as impenetrable as it is enrapturing.

By pairing Sebald's words with such gorgeous imagery, Gee creates something deeply sublime. It is a beautiful puzzle, this poem on film, and while its aimless structure may not be fully avant garde enough to justify its own lack of direction, it consistently engages the audience to explore its hidden treasures. For those with the patience to seek its treasures, Patience will be something special indeed. It pushes the documentary structure into a whole new form, something thought provoking and cerebral, baffling and transcendent, and ultimately an artistic journey worth taking.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

PATIENCE (AFTER SEBALD) | Directed by Grant Gee | Not rated | Now showing in NYC.

Review | "Whores' Glory"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Mon, 14 May 2012 17:49:00 +0000

The term "whore" is perhaps one of the most confrontational and even derogatory descriptions of practitioners of the world's oldest profession. Pairing the term with the word "glory" is an even more jarring combination, suggesting something seedy, even perverse. The title, Whores' Glory, is a seemingly incongruous one, and indeed it is not without its ironies.

You'll be hard pressed to find any glory in Michael Glawogger's eye opening documentary, but you won't find any judgement or false sentiment either. Whores' Glory is as clear-eyed and objective a film as we are likely to get. Unlike many contemporary documentaries, Glawogger doesn't approach his subject with a goal of social change - his purpose is to observe and document, allowing the stories of prostitutes from across the globe speak for themselves. The rest is up the audience, as it should be. The result is something at once disturbing, mesmerizing, and strangely moving, a mosaic of the modern state of the sex industry that makes impersonal, anonymous sex feel personal and even intimate.

Told in triptych style, and set to a fantastic soundtrack featuring artists such as PJ Harvey, Whores' Glory examines organized prostitution in Thailand, Bangladesh, and Mexico, taking us on a behind the scenes tour of an underground industry that outsiders are rarely privy to. In Thailand, girls line up behind a two-way mirror, and men choose them from the other side like pieces of meat. In Bangladesh, women refuse to perform oral sex because their mouths are used to recite the Qu'ran. And in Mexico, men cruise the streets of the red light district known as the Zone, where each prostitute has her own room in which to host clients. The contrast between the three locations is striking, but even more remarkable are their similarities. Glawogger digs deep into their hopes and dreams, creating a fascinating portrait of women who sell themselves, often because they have no other choice. One madame offers a bleak picture of life for her young daughter, who will likely be forced into prostitution because her family has no money and no one will want to marry her.

It's the moments like that that make Whores' Glory so compelling. It shows us a world where prostitution is not taboo, and is even treated as perfectly normal. We meet clients who candidly describe what they look for in a prostitute, and even observe a few of their trysts. From the high class brothels of Thailand to the slums of Mexico, Whore's Glory treats is subjects with a quiet dignity, never judging them for their actions while honoring the person beneath the surface. Some of its most intriguing moments come from interviews with the prostitutes who candidly reveal their hopes and dreams of escape, many of which we know will never be fulfilled. That is both the tragedy and the draw of Whores' Glory, a refreshingly frank and powerfully rendered documentary that probes the depths of a subject often swept under the rug. We are a fly on the wall to a world often discussed but rarely explored, as Glowagger shines a light in the darkness on the seedy,gritty, shocking world where sex is little more than a business.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

WHORES' GLORY | Directed by Michael Glawogger | Not rated | Now playing in select cities.

Blu-ray Review | "David Lean Directs Noël Coward"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sun, 13 May 2012 03:58:00 +0000

There are few partnerships in the history of cinema quite like the brief but important collaboration between director David Lean and playwright Noël Coward. While legendary filmmakers Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger were already established as a winning team, and were embarking on what would be the richest period of their career (yielding a string of masterpieces such as The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus, and The Red Shoes), another filmmaking pair entered the scene that would ultimately produce an arguably more famous pair.

The difference between the two teams is that Lean and Coward were perhaps more famous separately than together. Coward was already an established and successful playwright, and Lean would go on to be more well known for his legendary epics such as The Bridge on the River Kwai and Lawrence of Arabia. Lean's name has come to be synonymous with a certain kind of epic filmmaking, while Coward represents a very British brand of upper class wit. Their initial pairing was as unlikely as it was seminal, and their collaboration yielded four excellent films before they parted ways in 1945.

A scene from IN WHICH WE SERVE (1942). Courtesy of The Criterion Collection.

In 1942, Britain was in the heat of World War II, and the Blitz was crumbling morale on the home front. Coward, who had long harbored a certain disdain for the cinema, decided to make a propaganda film to honor the soldiers and boost morale. Film, of course, could reach a much wider audience than could the theatre, but Coward had no cinematic experience, and therefore turned to Lean, then a young editor who was quietly making a name for himself as a go-to guy on the quota quickie circuit to fix problem films. Neither had never directed a film before, and planned to split directorial duties, with Lean in charge of composing the shots and directing Coward (who starred as Captain Kinross), while Coward would direct the rest of the cast. As it turned out, Coward was more than happy to step back and let Lean work his magic, and while the two share directing credit the resulting film was mostly the work of Lean.

In Which We Serve became the film that launched the career of one of the cinema's most legendary auteurs, and what an auspicious beginning it was. A stirring portrait of the crew of the Torrin, a British warship that is sunk in the Mediterranean whose survivors reflect upon their lives while floating in the ocean waiting to be rescued. The film actually spends much more time on the home front than in the war itself, and in so doing creates a portrait of British resilience as a reminder of what these men are fighting for. Unlike many of the propaganda films of the era, In Which We Serve displays remarkable restraint and subtlety, focusing on characters rather than broad archetypes and cheap sentiments. You'll find no anti-German sentiments or cloying nationalism here, just a quiet dignity in the face of overwhelming danger. That's what makes it so moving - it never feels as if it's trying too hard to push its audience too hard. It established Lean as the a director to watch, and foreshadowed his later prowess at focusing on intimate themes against a grand backdrop.

A scene from BLITHE SPIRIT. Courtesy of The Criterion Collection.

1944's This Happy Breed served a very similar purpose as In Which We Serve, although without the overt wartime plot. A kind of suburban variation on Coward's upper class family drama, Cavalcade (which had been adapted into an Academy Award winning film 11 years prior), This Happy Breed follows a middle class family from the end of WWI to the beginning of WWII, beginning with the triumph of victory and ending on a note of uncertainty as the clouds of war once again cast their shadow over Europe. Opening with a sweeping shot of endless rows of identical houses, the film quickly establishes its protagonists as a kind of archetypal British family. They could be anyone, and were specifically crafted to be readily identifiable to the majority of contemporary British citizens. They grow up before our eyes, have personal triumps and suffer painful setbacks. But despite their problems they represented exactly what was being fought for overseas - the very existence of the British way of life. It's a powerful piece that hammers its message home without any kind of overt propagandizing. It may not be set during the war, but it is unmistakably a work of wartime angst.

By contrast, 1945's Blithe Spirit is a work of pure escapism. For a Blitz-weary nation, a surprisingly dark comedy that makes light of death may seem like a hard sell, but the film was a hit and went on to win an Academy Award for its ghostly special effects. Coward believed Blithe Spirit to be the best thing he had ever written, and it certainly is a sprightly, witty thing. Rex Harrison stars a Charles Condomine, a wealthy author who arranges for a medium to entertain his guests at a dinner party in order to conduct research for his latest novel. But when the bumbling medium accidentally conjures up the ghost of his dead first wife, Elvira (Kay Hammond), Charles finds his life, and his relationship with his second wife, Ruth (Constance Cummings) thrown into disarray. Blithe Spirit may be a trifle, but it's a glorious trifle, and features one of the great comedic roles in English theatre - the medium Madame Arcati, here memorably embodied by a deliciously batty Margaret Rutherford. It may be a minor entry in Lean's canon (comedy was not his strongest suit), but it remains a strong adaptation of Coward's most enduring work.

A scene from BRIEF ENCOUNTER. Courtesy of The Criterion Collection.

The real jewel of this collection, however, is 1945's Brief Encounter. Based on Coward's one act play, "Still Life," Brief Encounter is the heartrending story of two married people whose chance meeting on a train platform turns into a fleeting and ultimately doomed love affair. Celia Johnson (who would later be so memorable opposite Maggie Smith as the dour headmistress in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, directed by Lean's frequent cinematographer, Ronald Neame) gives a remarkable performance as Laura Jesson, the lovelorn protagonist who meets Dr. Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard) while waiting for a train, and is never the same. The first time we see them is actually the last time they meet, and the rest of the film shows us how they came to that moment. By the time we finally realize what the first scene actually was, Lean has drawn us in and shattered our hearts. Yes it is ultimately a film about two adulterers, but Lean treats it with such sensitivity and the performances are so earnest and authentic that its nearly impossible not to become wrapped up in their plight. Johnson is quoted as saying that acting in Brief Encounter was almost like being in a silent film, as much of the dialogue is in her head. But what she does is far more subtle that silent film acting. She says so much with her eyes, and Lean takes us to a place of deep introspection, saying a great deal with very little. Here, Lean solidified his mastery of emotional intimacy even without the epic scope, and crafted what many consider to be one of his finest achievements.

Brief Encounter would be his last collaboration with Coward, before he moved on to his own solo career, and Coward went back to the theatre. But they left behind four indelible films that launched the career of one of cinema's great masters and offer a window into the artistic evolution of two legends. Criterion's box set is a sumptuous presentation of these films in their finest quality. The gorgeous Technicolor photography of This Happy Breed and Blithe Spirit really pops on blu-ray, but it is the smoky black and white of Brief Encounter that leaves the strongest impression. Its aching beauty is something to be cherished, and Criterion has gone out of its way to honor all four of these classic films as they have never been seen before.

Special features include:

New high-definition digital transfers of the BFI National Archive’s 2008 restorations, with uncompressed monaural soundtracks on the Blu-ray editions
Audio commentary on Brief Encounter by film historian Bruce Eder
New interviews with Noël Coward scholar Barry Day on all of the films
Interview with cinematographer-screenwriter-producer Ronald Neame from 2010
Short documentaries from 2000 on the making of In Which We Serve and Brief Encounter
David Lean: A Self Portrait, a 1971 television documentary on Lean’s career Episode of the British television series The Southbank Show from 1992 on the life and career of Coward
Audio recording of a 1969 conversation between Richard Attenborough and Coward at London’s National Film Theatre Trailers
PLUS: A booklet featuring essays by Ian Christie, Terrence Rafferty, Farran Smith Nehme, Geoffrey O’Brien, and Kevin Brownlow

IN WHICH WE SERVE - ★★★★ (out of four)
THIS HAPPY BREED - ★★★½
BLITHE SPIRIT - ★★★
BRIEF ENCOUNTER - ★★★★

Now available on blu-ray and DVD from The Criterion Collection.

Warner's Blu-ray Elite

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 11 May 2012 23:05:00 +0000

A few months ago I was contacted by a Warner representative about a new home video program called Blu-ray Elite. I indicated my interest, but when I didn't hear back for a while, I assumed that the program had either fallen through or been shelved.

So I was delighted to learn a few weeks ago that the program was indeed close to realization. The concept is simple - Warner chose a select group of bloggers and fans to send periodic blu-ray discs to as a kind of home video social network marketing program - get the discs out there and get the conversation started.

Yes, I am a critic, and I value critical integrity above all. If I don't like a film or something about the presentation I will say so. I've bee receiving screeners and promo discs long enough that I won't gush over a movie just because I got a free copy of it. But I certainly appreciate being included in this new program, and am excited about its future. Anything I post about the films on Twitter will be accompanied by #blurayelite and #sp (sponsored post) to keep everything transparent and separate from my critical work.

The first round of discs came today, and included The Matrix, Contagion, and Inception. An eclectic mix, but all worthy of revisiting (coincidentally, I didn't already own any of them). I'll be reporting from time to time on the progress of the program and the movies that I watch, so stay tuned. You'll be hearing about this a lot around the blogosphere for the next few months.

Review | "The Deep Blue Sea"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 11 May 2012 05:34:00 +0000

It is clear right from the start of Terrence Davies' The Deep Blue Sea that something remarkable is in store. With a swell of Samuel Barber's "Concerto for Violin and Orchestra," Hester Collyer (Rachel Weisz) takes a handful of pills, opens up the gas in the fireplace, and lays down on the floor to die.

Opening with a sweeping tracking shot of a quiet, ramshackle British street, The Deep Blue Sea seems to be channeling the great Douglas Sirk, and the similarities don't stop there. The film is drenched in Sirkian flair from the first moment to the last, awash in a kind of exquisite sadness embodied by the inner pain of its lovelorn protagonist.

"Beware of passion, Hester." Her mother in law admonishes her. "It always leads to something ugly." Those words, spoken to her at an awkward weekend getaway (in which she and her husband must sleep in separate beds and his mother's prudish request), seemingly hammer the last nail in the coffin to her loveless marriage to the respectable but bland Sir William Collyer (Simon Russell Beale). Little more than an arranged marriage, Hester has instead found passion in the arms of former WWII pilot, Freddie Paige (Tom Hiddleston), something she craves above the "guarded enthusiasm" prescribed by her mother in law and embodied by her husband.

Hester Collyer (Rachel Weisz) in Terrence Davies' THE DEEP BLUE SEA.
Photo by Liam Daniel. Courtesy of Music Box Films.

The passion she shares with Freddie, however, is extremely volatile, ranging from heated romance to drunken fights. Caught between a dull, predictable existence with her husband, or a life of fiery unpredictability with Freddie, Hester attempts to take her own life. When Freddie learns of her failed suicide, he is enraged and breaks off the relationship. It is then when her husband walks back into her life, a bland but steady rock of strength in a time of great difficulty. Hester is once again faced with an impossible choice, choose the unexciting reliability of the man she married, or continue to pursue an uncertain future with a man whose lust for life makes him as unreliable as he is exciting. She is caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, and no matter what she chooses, happiness may remain forever out of her reach.

Based on the play of the same name by Terrence Rattigan, The Deep Blue Sea is a deeply perceptive exploration of grief and sadness as seen through prismatic reflections of memory. Shot through a kind of smoky haze, the film itself seems to be filtered through Hester's own recollections of a lifetime of regret. Not only is Davies channeling Sirk in his beautifully melancholy depiction of romantic angst, but there are elements of David Lean's masterpiece, Brief Encounter, here as well. Davies says so much by saying so little, and like Lean's towering work, The Deep Blue Sea explores romantic angst of the married middle class in deeply introspective ways.

Freddie Page (Tom Hiddleston) and Hester Collyer (Rachel Weisz) in Terrence Davies' THE DEEP BLUE SEA.
Photo credit: Liam Daniel. Courtesy of Music Box Films.

But perhaps even more so than Sirk and Lean, Davies owes a great debt to Rachel Weisz, whose extraordinary performance is truly something to be celebrated. Weisz embodies such a painful sense of internalized anguish that it's almost palpable, her eyes conveying such uncertainty and sorrow with heartbreaking subtlety. While Weisz may be the glue that holds Davies' tale together, his powerful screenplay and assured direction smartly stay out of the way, never calling unnecessary attention to themselves while enhancing the film at every turn. Davies has crafted something truly outstanding, an evocative and perceptive exploration of the conflicting desires of the human heart and the consequences of the choices we make.

That dichotomy between the heart and the head is an eternal human affliction, a constant battle between our own desires and our better judgement. The Deep Blue Sea manages to be both swooningly romantic and achingly sad, painful and cathartic, beautiful and devastating. Davies never exploits the tragic nature of the story, instead opting for something more soul stirring and even strangely uplifting. In the end he leaves us with a lingering sense of wistful regret, but also a glimmer of hope. It's an awful lot like life itself; hope tinged with regret,the constant cycle of ups and downs, joys and sorrows, triumphs and tragedies, that make up the seemingly endless game of human existence. The Deep Blue Sea is a rare breed, a haunting and intelligently drawn love story that lingers in the memory like a wisp of smoke caught in a sunbeam, powerfully embodying the labyrinthine complexities of the heart in something as deceptively simple as a glance.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

THE DEEP BLUE SEA | Directed by Terrence Davies | Stars Rachel Weisz, Tom Hiddleston, Simon Russell Beale, Ann Mitchell, Karl Johnson | Rated R for a scene of sexuality and nudity | Now playing in select cities. Opens today, May 11, in Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill, and Winston-Salem, NC.

On "The Avengers"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Wed, 09 May 2012 21:06:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

"The Avengers" is pure summer popcorn entertainment from start to finish. It is, in many ways, the perfect summer movie — a big, loud spectacle that is also sharply written and filled with lovable characters worth rooting for.

Click here to read my full review.

Blu-ray Review | "The Girl on a Motorcycle"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 04 May 2012 05:09:00 +0000

When one thinks of Jack Cardiff, one immediately thinks of his great works of cinematography on films such as The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus. Few ever think of him as a director, although he had several directorial credits to his name.

For its inaugural release from its new Jezebel label (which specializes in erotic titles), Kino Lorber has chosen Cardiff's 1968 cult classic, The Girl on a Motorcycle to kick things off. Its an appropriate title to get things started (the film was known as Naked Under Leather for its American release), because unlike the films of Kino's Redemption label (the flagship of which is the erotic horror films of Jean Rollin), The Girl on a Motorcycle is mostly straight erotica, although it's pretty tame by today's standards.

Blu-ray capture courtesy of DVD Beaver.

Based on the novel, "La Motocyclette" by André Pieyre de Mandiargues, The Girl on a Motorcycle is a road movie of a different kind. In fact that's really all it is. Rebecca (Marianne Faithfull) is a nymphomaniac who sets out on a transcontinental journey across Europe to reunite with her lover, who provides her with far more excitement than her stuffy husband, a Swiss schoolteacher who is a constant object of ridicule for his young students. On her journey she looks back over the events that lead her to that moment, and the steamy affair that led to her love of motorcycles. The result is a wildly erotic and psychadelic head trip that ultimately leads nowhere, but fits right in with other such exploitation films of the era.

Cardiff photographed as well as shot the film, so it's filled with striking imagery and flashy colors (especially in its out of left field moments of acid-trip like insanity). Sadly the film itself leaves much to be desired. It is filled with long sequences of motorcycle driving where very little actually happens. Rebecca rambles on at length in her own mind, musing over events and narrating her actions with a kind of dreamy detachment. But for an exploitation film there is precious little sex. The exploitation elements seem to stem form the motorcycle itself, which represents the very image of 60s era rebellion. It's almost a purely visual film without any real substance, even of the trashy kind one has come to expect of films of this kind. What makes it worth it is Cardiff's unmistakable visual sense (and a commentary track by Cardiff himself, which is a gem indeed). Fans of Cardiff's work may find The Girl on a Motorcycle to be an interesting, if hardly essential, facet of his career, but fans of exploitation cinema may find the film uneventful and ultimately rather bland.

GRADE - ★★ (out of four)

THE GIRL WITH A MOTORCYCLE | Directed by Jack Cardiff | Stars Alain Delon, Marianne Faithfull, Roger Mutton, Marius Goring, Jean Leduc | Rated R | Now available on blu-ray and DVD from Kino Lorber.

On "The Five-Year Engagement"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 03 May 2012 02:36:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

First and foremost, "The Five-Year Engagement" is funny — very funny. But more than that, it's an unusually perceptive examination of modern relationships. Amid all the laughs, Segel and Stoller find something deeply human and surprisingly moving. This is a film populated by real characters, not just broad caricatures.

Click here to read my full review.

Review | "Turn Me On, Dammit!"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 04:22:00 +0000

If the recent controversial comments by Rush Limbaugh about Sandra Fluke have taught us anything, it is that all a young woman has to do is publicly state her need for birth control in order to be labeled a slut.

We've seen countless films about horny teenage boys trying to get laid. It seems like a new one opens at the multiplex every weekend. And every time it is treated as something to be celebrated. However, any girl who acted the way those boys do would most likely be labeled a "loose woman."

That double standard has long existed inside Hollywood and out. In fact it wasn't that long ago that the female orgasm itself was thought to be a myth. Women's sexual enjoyment has always been more of a taboo than their male counterparts, and the fact that women like sex just as much as men, and are just as prone to sexual fantasies, is often ignored in movies. Now, Jannicke Systad Jacobsen Norwegian coming of age comedy, Turn Me On, Dammit! seeks to change all that.

Sara (Malin Bjørhovde), Alma (Helene Bergsholm) and Ingrid (Beate Støfring) in a scene from “Turn Me On, Dammit!,” a film by Jannicke Systad Jacobsen. Photo courtesy of New Yorker Films.

Set in the tiny Norwegian town of Skoddeheimen, Turn Me On, Dammit! is the story of Alma (Helene Bergsholm), a 15 year old girl who just wants to have sex. When she's not fantasizing about just about everyone she comes in contact with, she's either having phone sex or masturbating in her room. The usual object of her fantasies is Artur (Matias Myren) a local boy she often spends the afternoons with. One day a local party, Artur approaches Alma, pulls his penis out of his pants, and presses it against her thigh. Thrilled and intrigued, Alma immediately confides in her best friend, Ingrid (Beate Støfring). Unbeknownst to Alma, Ingrid also has a crush on Artur, and is incredulous about Alma's claims. When Artur denies it, Ingrid turns against Alma and proceeds to tell the entire school that Alma is some kind of pervert.

Soon, Alma finds herself an outcast in her own town. And in a town as small as Skoddenheimen, everyone soon finds out about Alma's "abnormality." The kids at school start calling her "Dick Alma," Artur begins ignoring her existence, even her own mother thinks there's something wrong with her. All the while her sexual curiosity only grows, so does her frustration, with no one to tell her that what she is feeling is perfectly normal.

Alma (Helene Bergsholm) prepares for a party in “Turn Me On, Dammit!,” a film by Jannicke Systad Jacobsen. Photo courtesy of New Yorker Films.

Jacobson clearly has a very keen understanding of teenage sexuality. While Turn Me On, Dammit! is clearly a comedy, its characters remain disarmingly, even painfully honest. There's Alma, the sexually curious one, Ingrid, the young queen bee, and Sara, the wannabe political activist who believes she can right all the world's wrongs by raising awareness and writing letters. Jacobson draws them all with both sensitivity and intelligence, getting down to the very essence of a young girl whose raging hormones are pushing her into territory she is not fully ready to explore. The entire film, however, seems to exude the same kind of reaction the public at large seems to have to a sexually liberated woman. Even Alma sees her sexual exploration as "misbehaving," when most of what she does is merely healthy exploration. Jacobson wants to hammer home the point that Alma has nothing to be ashamed of, even as the world around her seems unready and unwilling to embrace a girl exploring her sexuality, while the male instigator faces little to no ridicule.

The young cast of mostly non-professional actors are refreshingly real, untouched by the typical looks and attitudes of the stereotypical Hollywood teenager. They fully commit themselves to tricky and potentially awkward territory with great aplomb, and the result is something wholly unique. Turn Me On, Dammit! is a comedy about real teenagers, not manufactured Calvin Klein models with fairy tale endings. It's a brash, insightful, and poignant film with a daring new perspective. As this strange national debate about birth control as a sign of promiscuity rages on in America, Turn Me On, Dammit! has the chutzpah to present a young girl with an unabashed desire for sexual gratification without judging her, even treating her as perfectly normal - because that is exactly what she is. No matter what America's strange tradition of prudishness would have us believe, sex is nothing to be ashamed of, and Jacobson's altogether wonderful new film is a warm, witty, and hilarious celebration of healthy sexual desire in all its forms. It's one of the best coming of age comedies in years.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

TURN ME ON, DAMMIT! | Directed by Jannike Systad Jacobsen | Stars Helene Bergholm, Malin Bjørhovde, Beate Støfring, Henriette Steenstrup, Matias Myren | Not rated | In Norwegian w/English subtitles | Now playing in select cities.

Review | "Warriors of the Rainbow: Seediq Bale"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 04:20:00 +0000

"Some eighty years ago, in the mountains of Taiwan, two races clashed in defense of their faiths. One race believed in rainbows, the other believed in the sun. Neither side realized that they both believed in the same sky."

Despite its lovely lyricism, the above quote doesn't appear anywhere in the film Warriors of the Rainbow: Seediq Bale. It is, in fact, the short synopsis from the film's press notes. Whoever wrote those press notes should be commended, because they wrote a three sentence synopsis that's better than the 2.5 hour film it describes. If only the film itself had contained even half of that same poetic depth then it would have truly been something to treasure. There are glimmers of that potential here and there, but that's mostly all Warriors of the Rainbow is - potential. It has all the makings of a thundering epic, a kind of Braveheart meets The Mission, but the end result feels like director Wei Te-sheng threw all the right ingredients into a bowl, but forgot to mix them together. The final product is a disjointed collection of cliches and ideas that never jell together into a cohesive whole.

Lin Yuan-Joe and Lin Ching-Tai in Wei Te-Sheng’s WARRIORS OF THE RAINBOW: SEEDIQ BALE
Courtesy of Well GO USA.

Based on a rather obscure piece of Taiwan's history (little known even in Taiwan), Warriors of the Rainbow: Seediq Bale is the tale of the aboriginal Seediq tribe, which came under the rule of the Japanese when Taiwan was ceded by China in 1895. For over 30 years the island of Taiwan was under brutal Japanese rule, until Mouna Rudo, a chief of the Seediqs, united the tribes and led his people in a revolt against the far superior and more advanced forces of the Japanese. Rudo, a warrior who strictly adhered to the ancient teachings and beliefs of his people, has long accepted the rule of the Japanese with a brooding resign, resentment boiling beneath the surface but wisdom staying his hand.

But when the oppression becomes too much to bear, he begins to reflect on the potential lost souls of the young members of his tribe whose hands have never known battle and whose faces remain unadorned with the traditional tattoos signifying manhood. It soon becomes clear that the only way to save their souls is to give up their lives. Hopelessly outmatched and out gunned, Rudo leads his people into battle, fighting not for freedom, but for eternity.

Da Ching in Wei Te-Sheng’s WARRIORS OF THE RAINBOW: SEEDIQ BALE.
Courtesy of Well GO USA.

It's all very familiar, as we've seen endless variations on this story before. But its truth lends a certain amount of interest that sets it apart somewhat. The biggest problem with Warriors of the Rainbow is that it feels just like all the other advanced empire versus scrappy natives films. At 2.5 hours long it's a bit of a slog, but it's beautifully filmed, and features some undeniably stirring moments. I only wish they weren't so few and far between. It also raises some inevitable questions about the allegiances it expects us to feel, when the Seediqs are actually just as brutal if not more so than the Japanese. Heads roll in this film frequently, flying through the air, rolling on the ground, always accompanied by spurting arterial sprays. We are automatically supposed to root for the Seediqs because they are the underdogs and pull against the Japanese because they are the occupiers. But when we play witness to the heroes chopping off head after head in the most brutal fashion, it becomes hard to accept them as the group to feel sympathy for.

Wei just doesn't spend enough time developing the history between these two peoples. Without the back story to provide some answers, it's almost easy to see why the Japanese were so disgusted by the Seediqs - they were every bit as brutal as the propaganda claimed (if the film is to be believed). Despite the film's ideological slippery slope, for his part, Lin Ching-Tai is excellent as Mouna Rudo. The non-professional actor simply exudes wisdom and courage, and he beings an anchoring quality to a film that often gets lost ferreting off on its own tangents. Beautiful cinematography can't mask a weak script, and despite some thrilling action sequences and moments of searing emotion, the script just doesn't do the story any justice. While Warriors of the Rainbow may have been a passion project for Wei that was years in the making, it never becomes the film one knows it can be.

GRADE - ★★ (out of four)

WARRIORS OF THE RAINBOW: SEEDIQ BALE | Directed by Wei Te-Sheng | Stars Ling Ching-Tai, Umin Boya, Ando Masanobu | Not rated | In Seediq w/English subtitles | Now playing in select cities.

Review | "Keyhole"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 05:53:00 +0000

There are few other directors out there doing what Guy Maddin does. Long before The Artist swept the Oscars amid breathless praise for its supposedly unique embrace of silent-era styles, Maddin was making far better and more experimental silent films to critical acclaim and audience indifference.

While The Artist is clearly a more commercially viable work, as it was based on the most innocuous silent film tendencies, Maddin's films reflect the more avant-garde aspects of the medium. They are an extension of the work of filmmakers like Luis Bunuel (Un chien andalou), Germaine Dulac (The Seashell and the Clergyman), Man Ray (Emak-Bakia), and other early surrealist and dadaist filmmakers who challenged the medium of film, pushing it to its boundaries and beyond. Like the surrealists, Maddin's films follow a kind of dream logic, as if the audience is somehow trapped inside the characters' subconscious, their darkest secrets and sexual fantasies tumbling to the forefront.

Isabella Rossellini in Guy Maddin's "Keyhole."

While his latest film, Keyhole, may not be silent, it certainly adheres to his trademark silent era style. In fact, its lack of silence is perhaps its greatest drawback. It's not that Maddin is on completely unfamiliar territory, but sound seems almost out of place here, not to mention the often grating narration by the naked ghost of an old man chained to a bed, who serves as our guide. That ghost is the lingering spirit of the father of Hyacinth Pick (Isabella Rossellini) who has locked herself in a room in the center of her house surrounded by memories and spirits. Her husband, Ulysses (Jason Patric), is a gangster who has stormed the house in order to reach his cloistered wife.

He is accompanied by his right hand man, the boy who killed his son before being adopted by Ulysses to take his place, a girl who seems trapped between the real world and the spirit world (Brooke Palsson), and a hostage, his youngest son, Manners (David Wontner), whom he no longer remembers. As he attempts to reach his wife, he encounters the spirits of the past trapped within the walls of his home, some vengeful, others benign. Along the way, all of them will make discoveries about themselves as they become increasingly lost in their own phantasmagorical world of shadows and desires.

Brooke Palsson and David Wontner in Guy Maddin's "Keyhole."

Creating a plot summary of a Guy Maddin film is basically an exercise in futility, and one that is ultimately beside the point. I use the term "plot" loosely because Maddin isn't interested in telling a story so much as he is exploring the subconscious. His characters' psychosexual issues and repressed desires make up most of the action rather than any kind of superfluous story. What he has done instead is peer through the keyhole of their minds, past the barriers we create around ourselves, into the darkest recesses of our subconscious mind. Hyacinth is a character consumed by grief and has walled herself off from the world. Her husband is trying to reach her by any means necessary, but first he must tackle his own demons in order to get through to her.

The original surrealists purposely resisted any kind of interpretation, so referring to Maddin simply as a surrealist isn't completely accurate. While he does create the feeling of being inside a dream, which is one of the key tenets of surrealism, Maddin does not adhere to any kind of aesthetic dogma. He is in a class by himself. Keyhole may not represent his very best work, but it is certainly fascinating to explore and contemplate. It is a richly layered ghostly funhouse that, while not as profound or as powerfully rendered as his masterpieces The Heart of the World and Cowards Bend the Knee, is a singularly bizarre experience all its own. Maddin continually pushes the boundaries of cinema in consistently striking directions, and in the case of Keyhole, he has created something as disturbing as it is hilarious, as serious as it is absurd, showing us what so few filmmakers ever really do - something we have truly never seen before.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

KEYHOLE | Directed by Guy Maddin | Stars Jason Patric, Isabella Rossellini, Udo Kier, Brooke Palsson, David Wontner | Rated R for graphic nudity, sexuality, violent content and some language | Now playing in select cities.

Review | "We Have a Pope"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 02:20:00 +0000

Conclave, the process by which the Cardinals of the Catholic Church select a new Pope, is a tradition that is as steeped in history as it is shrouded in secrecy. Outsiders know very little about the specifics of the process, and the Cardinals' notes are always burned once a Pope is selected. What actually goes on behind closed doors is left up to inference and conjecture. It is only when the smoke rising from the chimney above the Sistine Chapel changes from black to white that the outside world learns that a new Pope has indeed been chosen.

But what if the Cardinal chosen to be Pope doesn't want the job? It is that unthinkable situation that serves as the hook for Nanni Moretti's comedic drama, We Have a Pope.

As the film opens, the former Pope has just died, and the College of Cardinals has cloistered itself to elect the new Pontiff. Three names have come forward as possible frontrunners for the leader of the Catholic Church, and media speculation has reached a fever pitch (an all too familiar lunacy that Moretti mocks with special glee), and indeed those three Cardinals dominate the early rounds of voting.

Michel Piccoli in WE HAVE A POPE, directed by Nanni Moretti.
A Sundance Selects Release. Photo by Philippe Antonello.

However, as the voting progresses and no consensus is met, a new name emerges as the overwhelming favorite - Cardinal Melville (Michel Piccoli). Stunned, Melville accepts his new title. But just as he is to address the faithful from the balcony of the Sistine Chapel, he suffers a breakdown and retreats back into the conclave room. Thinking quickly, the Cardinals inform the world that the new Pope has secluded himself in prayer, but the truth is that he is simply overwhelmed by the magnitude of his newfound responsibilities. As his advisors seek psychological help for the increasingly withdrawn Pontiff, he escapes from the Vatican and sets out on his own.

While the faithful wait with bated breath, his psychoanalyst informs him that he has "parental deficit," and he becomes determined to get to the root of his fear and reluctance to fulfill the role he believes God has asked him to fill. In his absence, the Cardinals remain in conclave with an unwitting participant, a non-believing psychoanalyst (played by Moretti himself) who isn't allowed to leave the chapel until the new Pope is announced. While they are cut off from the outside world, they find new ways to amuse themselves, as the Pope continues his soul searching, trying to find the strength to bear the burden of being God's infallible representative on Earth.

Nanni Moretti in WE HAVE A POPE, directed by Nanni Moretti.
A Sundance Selects Release. Photo by Philippe Antonello.

There is an undeniable charm about the film that is hard to resist. Moretti directs with a kind of understated whimsy, both bemused and in awe of such an ancient and magisterial process. He pokes gentle fun at the process and its inherent absurdities, but it is neither pointed enough nor consistent enough to make much of an impact. Once the Pope is out on his own, Moretti completely misses an opportunity for greater thematic exploration. The people he meets during his time of introspection have seemingly little impact, although his rekindling of his old passion for acting and theatre offer a glimmer of what the film could have been.

The real highlight of the film, however, is Michel Piccoli's performance as the reluctant Pontiff. He embodies the inner conflict of being shouldered with expectations and responsibilities no mortal could ever hope to live up to in a way that the film itself never really does. It's never anything more than just a "nice little movie," which is a shame considering the abundant opportunities for thematic richness inherent to the story. We Have a Pope is a completely agreeable but exceedingly slight film that never seems to have progressed past the conceptual stage. Moretti states in the film's press notes that they started with the image of a new Pope being unable to address the faithful after his election and running away from the balcony. It's a powerful image that, sadly, never really blossoms into anything deeper. A film must be more than a concept alone, and even though it offers glimpses of something more, the final product seems only halfway there.

GRADE - ★★½ (out of four)

WE HAVE A POPE | Directed by Nanni Moretti | Stars Michel Piccoli, Nanni Moretti, Jurzy Stuhr, Renato Scarpa | Not rated | In Italian w/English subtitles | Now playing in select cities.

2012 RiverRun Award Winners

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 01:44:00 +0000

And so the 14th Annual RiverRun International Film Festival has come to a close. After nine days and hundreds of films, here are the 2012 winners:

JURY AWARDS (NARRATIVE FEATURE COMPETITION)
Best Narrative Feature — Found Memories (Argentina/Brazil), directed by Júlia Murat
Peter Brunette Award for Best Director — Júlia Murat, Found Memories (Argentina/Brazil)
Best Actor — Mohamed Fellag in Monsieur Lazhar (Canada)
Honorable Mention, Best Actor — Anders Danielsen Lie in Oslo, August 31st (Norway)
Best Actress — Nadezhda Markina, Elena (Russia)
Honorable Mention, Best Actress — Sonia Guedes, Found Memories (Argentina/Brazil)
Best Cinematography — Lucio Bonelli, Found Memories (Argentina/Brazil)
Best Screenplay — Philippe Falardeau, Monsieur Lazhar (Canada)

JURY AWARDS (DOCUMENTARY COMPETITION)
Best Documentary Feature — The Boy Who Was a King (Bulgaria/Germany), directed by Andrey Paounov
Best Director — Lauren Greenfield, Queen of Versailles (USA)
Human Rights Award — Love Free or Die (USA), directed by Macky Alston

AUDIENCE AWARDS
Kilpatrick, Townsend & Stockton, LLP Audience Award for Best Narrative Feature — Monsieur Lazhar (Canada), directed by Philippe Falardeau
Kilpatrick, Townsend & Stockton, LLP Audience Award for Best Documentary Feature — Chasing Ice (USA), directed by Jeff Orlowski
Altered States Audience Award for Best American Independent Film — Small, Beautifully Moving Parts (USA), directed by Annie Howell and Lisa Robinson

This was, in my opinion, perhaps the strongest lineup RiverRun has had yet. I'm a big fan of Found Memories so I was glad to see it do so well with the narrative jury. The film will be released on June 1 in NYC from Film Movement. The audience winner, Monsieur Lazhar, is currently playing in select cities.

For a complete list of winners, click here. To read my reviews of the films that played in competition, click here.

Review | "The Day He Arrives"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 02:49:00 +0000

Whenever a film comes along whose main protagonist is a filmmaker, it's a safe bet to say that we're on pretty personal ground for the real filmmaker behind the camera.

However, when that filmmaker is Hong Sangsoo, any assumption is made at one's own peril, because Hong is a filmmaker extraordinarily adept at manipulating the ideas of time and perception. In Hong's universe, nothing is ever what it seems on first glance.

In his perhaps his finest film, 2000's Virgin Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, Hong tells essentially the same story from varying points of view, deftly articulating the notion of different perspectives on one single relationship. "What is truth?" He rhetorically asks, refusing to give an answer. It is that sly sense of subversion that Hong brings to each film, and he has brought it once again to his latest work, The Day He Arrives.

Song Sunmi (Boram), Kim Sangjoong (Youngho) and Yu Junsang (Seongjun) in "The Day He Arrives."
Courtesy of Cinema Guild.

This time, rather than taking on the ideas of truth and perspective Hong tackles the perception of time, yet The Day He Arrives feels, both aesthetically and thematically, like an extension of Virgin Stripped Bare. It's not just that they are both shot in black and white, or that they both feature filmmakers as characters, it's the way in which Hong constantly challenges the audience the question and examine what they are watching. The Day He Arrives takes place over the course of one day (or does it?), in which a filmmaker named Seongjun (Yu Junsang) travels to Seoul, South Korea to meet up with an old friend. When his friend doesn't show up on time, he begins to wander the streets, where he has a series of random encounters.

There is the plucky young actress who seems desperate to work with him. There is the group of young film students with whom he shares a drink. By the time finally meets up with his friend, Youngho (Kim Sangjoong), it might be the same day, it may be the next day. It doesn't matter. They meet up with a film teacher, Boram (Song Sunmi), and share drinks at a bar where the proprietor seems to be perpetually absent. Seongjun plays the piano and asks the bar proprietor out for a drink. As these seemingly mundane events take place, time seems to dissolve away and events begin to repeat themselves and blend together. Whether it is a day or the impression of a day no longer matter, as Seongjun begins to take stock of a life that isn't going quite the way he planned.

Yu Junsang (Seongjun) and Kim Bokyung (Yejeon) in "The Day He Arrives."
Courtesy of Cinema Guild.

Having not made a film in several years, Seongjun is at a crossroads in his life, and the day he arrives in Seoul will make him take stock of where he has been and where he is going, of coincidences and fate, of the difference in stagnancy and motion. Hong skillfully weaves these themes together in a surprisingly light and humorous manner, punctuated by an inescapable feeling of melancholy and loss. Seongjun's piano interludes, in which he hammers out Chopin's "Nocturne in C-sharp Minor" on an out of tune piano, become a kind of stirring glimpse into his mind and his own sense of ennui. The film somehow seems to exist out of time, as if Seongjun has somehow stepped into a vortex where time no longer has any meaning. Time stands still just as much for the audience as it does for Seongjun. Has he only been in Seoul for a day? Or was he there for several days? Does it really matter? When his life has no direction, the days run together in a blur that seems to be caught in a neverending cycle.

It is part of Hong's genius that The Day He Arrives doesn't really reveal itself in the moment. It is a film that reveals itself upon reflection, in hindsight. The cyclical events of the film play out life day-to-day trivialities, small talk and fleeting encounters. But when the sum of the film is totaled it becomes something far greater than its parts. Hong is beguiling us, lulling us into a kind of complacency akin to the character's own, before revealing its treasures in a revelation that its protagonist may or may not ever have. It handles a surprising amount of thematic richness in its bare bones structure, and Hong conveys it with both elegance and grace. On the surface it may seem like a trifle of a film, a throwaway exercise in naturalism that ultimately leads nowhere. But in true Hong fashion, its simplicity is the ultimate deception, and for those willing to take the challenge, exploring its riches yields great rewards.

GRADE - ★★★½ (out of four)

THE DAY HE ARRIVES | Directed by Hong Sangsoo | Stars Yu Jungsang, Kim Sangjoon, Song Sunmi, Kim Bokyung | Not rated | In Korean w/English subtitles | Opens Friday, April 20, in New York City.

On "The Cabin in the Woods"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 00:08:00 +0000

From The Dispatch:

Drew Goddard and Joss Whedon's "The Cabin in the Woods" may quite possibly be the most innovative and ingenious horror film since Wes Craven's original "Scream."

Click here to read my full review.

On Spoilers

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 16:22:00 +0000

By now you've probably heard about the controversy surrounding spoilers in reviews of Cabin in the Woods. It is, of course, like most controversies on the internet, much ado about nothing.

"OMG you guys! The twist is that there IS no twist!"

There are few groups more prone to getting their panties in a twist than movie geeks and bloggers (two groups which are often one and the same). The controversy first started with reviews by Esquire's Nick Pinkerton and the New York Observer's Rex Reed that seemingly lay bare the entire plot. You would think the fact that Pinkerton prefaces this discussion with "This is where, according to the degraded discourse of the twenty-first century, I'd normally be obliged to mar this paragraph with the all-caps SPOILER ALERT — but, well, forget it" would have been a clue to those wishing to go into the film blind, but this is a controversy characterized by righteous indignation. Not, you know, logic.

If people wanted to get outraged over something, why not the fact that Reed's review clearly reveals that either he didn't even see the film, walked out of it, or just didn't pay attention. His accusation that the trap the characters find themselves in is some kind of video game is so far off the mark it's laughable. But the fact remains that what these people are complaining about being revealed is, well, the plot itself.

It's pretty much impossible to discuss The Cabin in the Woods in a critical manner without discussing the plot in detail to explore its allegorical meaning. Any critic that doesn't at least touch on that is pretty much derelict in their duty as a critic. What's more is that there really is no big twist. I knew just from watching the trailer that the entire thing was a setup, and all of that is revealed in the opening scene of the movie. The pleasure is in the journey. It's the little things along the way that make Cabin in the Woods so much fun. The problem is with people being way too uptight about spoilers, when if they wanted to go into the film completely blind they shouldn't have been reading reviews or online discussions about it in the first place.

Therein lies the rub. If I don't want to know who went home on RuPaul's Drag Race last night, I avoid Twitter and Facebook until I have a chance to watch it. Simple. If I accidentally see something, it's my own fault. The same applies for movies. If you don't want to know anything about it, don't read the reviews or visit online forums that may be discussing it until after you've seen it.

Of course, there is such a thing as common courtesy. I'm not going to post something like HEY GUYS MALCOLM WAS THE DEAD PEOPLE HALEY JOEL OSMENT SAW because that pretty much negates the entire viewing experience, and is kind of a dick move. Knowing that the cabin in The Cabin in the Woods is run by a corporation setting the five kids up for sacrifice to ancient gods does not negate the viewing experience. It's what the movie is about. In fact it's pretty up front about its intentions from the get-go. Which is why I say is that the twist is that there is no twist. The people whining about spoilers are the kind of people who want to go into movies knowing nothing about them, which in today's culture of complete media saturation is all but impossible.

Yesterday, I posted this brief review of the film on MUBI:

Exceedingly clever meta-horror film lovingly sends up the genre while simultaneously indicting the audience as 5 stereotypical college kids head out into the woods, only to end up in a cabin controlled by an organization dedicated to making bloody sacrifices to ancient gods. Brilliantly conceived, THE CABIN IN THE WOODS is the most wildly inventive and entertaining horror film since the original "Scream."

Naturally, the very first comment was "ummm... SPOILERS!!" No, those aren't spoilers. That's a plot summary. Knowing that before going into the theater doesn't change the viewing experience at all. I'm just sick of people like that whining about spoilers. I'm sick of the very term. If you don't want to know anything about the movie before seeing it, just stay off the internet and let me discuss the film in appropriate channels on my own terms. I shouldn't have to tiptoe around those who haven't seen it in a place where the film is being discussed by those who have. Stop whining, buy a ticket, and come back when you've seen the film. The world will be a happier place.

DVD Review | "A Night To Remember"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 05:07:00 +0000

100 years ago today, the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg and sank into the icy depths of the North Atlantic two and a half hours later at 2:20 AM on April 15.

At that moment, a legend was born, and the Titanic sailed into history as one of the most enduring and endlessly fascinating disasters of all time.

Perhaps it is the personal stories - the band playing until the very end, Ida Strauss refusing to leave her husband, Isidore, the ship's builder, Thomas Andrews, frantically throwing deck chairs into the sea to serve as flotation devices. Perhaps it is the neverending series of "if onlys" that surround its sinking - if only there had been enough lifeboats, if only the crew had heeded repeated ice warnings, if only the Californian hadn't shut off its wireless, if only the ship had rammed the iceberg head-on rather than grazing it, the list goes on and on. But whatever it is, the Titanic has carved out a permanent place in the popular consciousness, and nowhere is that popularity more apparent than in the multiple cinematic retellings of the story that have been appearing almost as soon as the great ship went down.

Blu-ray capture courtesy of DVD Beaver.

The most famous of these is, of course, James Cameron's Titanic, a sweeping epic that focused on a fictional love story set against the backdrop of the disaster. Cameron's film was meticulously researched, and features quite a few real characters, but of all the Titanic films, perhaps none is so painstakingly accurate as Roy Ward Baker's 1958 docudrama A Night to Remember. Coming out several years after Fox's soapy Titanic, starring Clifton Webb and Barbra Stanwyk, A Night to Remember sought to offer a more realistic depiction of the event. Based on the book of the same name by Walter Lord, the film follows the Titanic's true stories, giving a blow by blow account of the sinking from the point of view of different passengers and crew members who are all based on real people.

There is no main character, per se, but the action does tend to center on 2nd Officer Charles Lightoller (Kenneth Moore), who was the highest ranking officer to survive the sinking, and it is his testimony that serves as the basis for much of what we know about the disaster. Baker deftly weaves these real life tales to provide as wide-ranging and complete a picture of the sinking as possible. Unlike most Titanic dramas, Baker wastes no time on the events leading up to the fateful collision with the iceberg. That event occurs 30 minutes into the film, and the rest of the running time is devoted almost entirely to the sinking.

Blu-ray capture courtesy of DVD Beaver.

While Cameron may have had access to more facts and information regarding the sinking than Baker (the wreckage had not yet been discovered in 1958), Baker's adherence to fact is both a positive and a negative. It tends to lead to a more clinical, by the book, unmistakably British vision, but it also a more immersive experience. By dispensing with a fictional story to distract from the real life drama, A Night to Remember stands apart from its Titanic brethren by sticking solely to the facts. By the time the Titanic is in its death throes, the lack of a central character no longer matters, and the real human stories of the ship come to the fore. While the special effects may not hold a candle to the Academy Award winning work in Cameron's film, they're still quite impressive given the period, and Baker manages to infuse the film with an unflagging sense of authenticity.

Comparisons to Cameron's Titanic are naturally inevitable, but it all honestly it's a bit unfair. Both are very different films with very different goals, and both succeed on their own terms. For fans of Cameron's film, A Night to Remember may come as a bit of a jolt, considering just how much of the same ground is covered. It's clear Cameron drew some inspiration from Baker in regards to the look of his film, as well as the paintings of Ken Marschall. But Baker's fact based approach feels like as close as it is possible to get to the real thing. His sense of verisimilitude and the striking black and white cinematography (as well as the earnest performances) make for a memorable and moving experience. 100 years later, the Titanic disaster still continues to haunt a fascinate us, and for as long as it does, A Night to Remember will endure as one of the quintessential Titanic films.

Special features include:

New digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray edition
Audio commentary by Don Lynch and Ken Marschall, author and illustrator of “Titanic”: An Illustrated History
The Making of “A Night to Remember” (1993), a sixty-minute documentary featuring producer William MacQuitty’s rare behind-the-scenes footage
Archival interview with Titanic survivor Eva Hart
En natt att minnas (1962), a half-hour Swedish documentary featuring interviews with Titanic survivors
The Iceberg That Sank the “Titanic” (2006), a sixty-minute BBC documentary Trailer
PLUS: A booklet featuring an essay by film critic Michael Sragow and archival photographs

GRADE - ★★★½

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER | Directed by Roy Ward Baker | Stars Kenneth More, Honor Blackman, Michael Goodliffe, Kenneth Griffith, David McCallum, Tucker McGuire | Not rated | Now available on blu-ray and DVD from The Criterion Collection.

Review | "Monsieur Lazhar"

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Lucas) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 04:33:00 +0000

The "inspirational teacher" film has become one of those tired cliches that I suspect most of us are tired of seeing. From Dead Poets Society, to Mona Lisa Smile, to The Great Debaters, to The Emperor's Club, the idea has been done so much and the territory covered so often, that there seems to be very little left to bring to the table.

The genre has yielded some strong films of course. Goodbye, Mr. Chips is a classic. Dead Poets Society isn't bad, Mr. Holland's Opus is near great, and The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie is arguably the greatest (and darkest) of them all. But the very mention of another "inspirational teacher" drama is enough to illicit rolled eyes and groans of "here we go again."

That is perhaps why some predicted that Philippe Falardeau's Monsieur Lazhar would triumph over frontrunner (and eventual winner) A Separation for this past year's Best Foreign Language Film Oscar sight unseen. After all, any film dealing with teachers must be the kind of easily digestible schmaltz that the Oscar foreign language committee usually falls all over themselves for, right?

Abdelmalek (Seddik Benslimane) and Bachir Lazhar (Fellag) in MONSIEUR LAZHAR
Courtesy of Music Box Films.

Not necessarily. While Monsieur Lazhar may teeter dangerously close to sentimentality at times, Falardeau handily pulls it back, steadying the emotional ballast of this tricky and at times difficult film. It's certainly a much darker and serious minded take on a well worn forumla, dealing with much deeper and more painful issues than films of its type usually do. The teacher in question is Bashir Lazhar (Fellag), an Algerian refugee who has fled to Canada to escape his troubled past. He seeks a job at an elementary school, and is taken on as an emergency replacement for a teacher who committed suicide by hanging herself in the classroom. This shocking and ultimately selfish act immediately sets Monsieur Lazhar apart from its thematic brethren - this is serious stuff, and it addresses its issues with a quiet sense of wisdom and maturity.

The suicide rocks the school, of course, but it affects her students most severely, and Lazhar finds his work cut out for him. In his attempts to reach the students, he begins to understand the true depths of their pain and the roots of his predecessor's depression. As he peels back the layers of their emotions, he exposes a raw nerve at the heart of the problem that has yet to heal, and even as his own past begins to catch up with him, he becomes the strong role model these students need to begin the slow but ultimately cathartic path to healing.

Alice (Sophie Nélisse) in MONSIEUR LAZHAR
Courtesy of Music Box Films.

Falardeu wisely chooses not to oversimplify the wounds of these children, and that's part of what makes Monsieur Lazhar so special. Falardeau isn't interested in playing psychiatrist or applying simplistic answers to complex problems. By the time the credits roll there are still questions left unanswered, still problems left unsolved. But these kids have found an advocate for life who will leave a lasting impact perhaps even greater than the trauma inflicted upon them by their previous teacher. It is somewhat refreshing that Lazhar himself is no saint. He has an old school style (which leads him at one point to smack an petulant student across the head), and a haunted past, but he cares about these kids even as they are in danger of becoming lost in an uncaring system that doesn't know how to address their inner turmoil.

The film hinges on the performances of the children, which can often spell trouble for films of this type. But they are universally remarkable, especially Émilien Néron as the troubled Simon, whose connection to his previous teacher ran deeper than anyone imagined, and Sophie Nélisse as the precocious Alice, who has a fine career ahead of her. Much like their performances, Falardeu handles their plight with maturity and sensitivity, walking a fine line between schmaltz and restraint. More often than not, he hits just the right note, gracefully balancing some very complicated emotional waters without overstatement or easy placation. Monsieur Lazhar cuts right to the heart of what a great teacher really is, not just preparing children to take tests but truly educating, helping them to grow both emotionally and academically. In that regard, it is a timely film indeed, a quietly moving paean to education that pulls no punches in its portrayal of childhood trauma and resilience in the face of darkness.

GRADE - ★★★ (out of four)

MONSIEUR LAZHAR | Directed by Philippe Falardeau | Stars Fellag, Sophie Nélisse, Émilien Néron, Danielle Proulx, Brigitte Poupart | Rated PG-13 for mature thematic material, a disturbing image and brief language | In French w/English subtitles | Opens Friday, April 13, in select theaters.