Blancanieves: Snow White in the Bull Ring

If often seems like the Academy’s rules for the best foreign language category are obscure and arbitrarily applied.  Frankly, the only language spoken in Spain’s official submission is body language.  Yet, Pablo Berger’s silent film qualified.  In fairness, it is about as Spanish as it gets, earning eighteen Goya nominations for combining the Snow White fairy tale with the rich tradition of bullfighting.  Unfortunately, Blancanieves (trailer here) will not repeat The Artist’s Oscar success, failing to even reach the foreign language shortlist.  However, it should still find considerable arthouse love when it opens this Friday in New York.

Antonio Villalta was a great matador, but one day he faced one bull too many.  As the paralyzed Villalta lies upon the operating table, his beloved sadly dies in child birth.  Recognizing a ticket to the easy life, the cold, calculating nurse Encarna sets her sites on the weakened widower.  Yes, you could say she is an evil stepmother to young Carmen.  Initially raised by her grandmother, Carmen is forced to become a servant on the Villalta estate after the kindly old woman’s death.  Though forbidden to see her father, she starts paying furtive visits to the equally miserable Villalta.  Even confined to his wheelchair, Villalta teaches her everything about the family business.  It will be a useful skill when things come to a head with Encarna.

Suffering from amnesia, Carmen falls in with an itinerant company of diminutive novelty bullfighters.  When her innate talent and extensive training are revealed, the troupe is quickly redubbed “Blancanieves and the Seven Dwarfs.”  They seem to be one dwarf short, but they are never sticklers for details in Spain.  Obviously, the act is a hit, which perturbs Encarna and you know what that means.

Blancanieves is the third Snow White adaptation in about a year’s time and by far the best.  Yet, it will draw far more comparisons to Michel Hazanavicius’s Artist than Kristen Stewart’s home-wrecking Huntsman.  Without question, Berger is a much richer visual stylist than the Oscar winning director.  On the other hand Hazanavicius’s elegantly light touch, flair for physical comedy, and old fashioned romanticism are ultimately a tad more satisfying.  Nonetheless, Berger frames some stunningly expressionistic tableaux and his transitions are a show unto themselves.  However, he embraces all of the tragic heaviness of the Brothers Grimm and almost none of their macabre fantasy.

The cast is also quite strong (but again The Artist’s ensemble would narrowly take the honors in a face-off).  Daniel Giménez Cacho’s work as Villalta is particularly poignant and the dwarfs stand head-and-shoulders above their more famous counterparts in Huntsman.  Sofía Oria is also quite touching as young Carmen (while Macarena García’s older incarnation is somewhat less so).

Watching Blancanieves one is struck by the painstaking composition of each shot and the care taken to perfectly match every note of Alfonso de Vilallonga’s score (featuring both sweeping orchestral pieces and some infectious flamenco-inspired songs).  Furthermore, the lack of award season recognition for Kiko de la Rica’s gorgeous black-and-white cinematography is nothing less than a crime.  A work of true cinematic artistry, Blancanieves is recommended for all real movie lovers when it opens this Friday (1/25) in New York.

Memo to the Academy: Nina Hoss in Barbara

Intimacy is based on trust, so is it ever really possible in police state like the Soviet-era East Germany?  Obviously, that is not the Stasi’s problem.  They are out to do everything possible to isolate and demoralize a dissident doctor.  Yet, in spite of her better judgment, she will develop ambiguously complicated feelings for her minder in Christian Petzold’s Barbara (trailer here), Germany’s official best foreign language Academy Award submission, which opens this Friday in New York.

As soon as Dr. Barbara Wolff applied for an exit visa, her brilliant career was effectively over.  Transferred from a prestigious East Berlin hospital to a provincial backwater, Dr. Wolff is all too aware of the eyes on her.  The most obvious set belongs to Andre, Barbara’s ostensive supervisor, whose role as the designated Stasi snitch is an open secret.  He has a surprisingly convincing good guy act though and he genuinely seems to care about their patients, particularly Mario, a young man suffering from a mysterious head trauma that defies diagnosis.  Yet, the case that resonates deepest with Dr. Wolff is that of Stella, a recaptured prison camp escapee suffering from meningitis.

Wolff is not inclined to meekly submit to the Stasi’s mounting harassment.  Having hatched an escape plan with her West German lover, she believes her time in East Germany is limited, which is why she is so surprised by her growing attraction to Andre and her emotional investment in their patients.

Barbara has been described as Petzold’s response to Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s brilliant The Lives of Others.  That is true to an extent, but not in a polemical sense.  There is no nostalgia here for the Honecker regime, let alone a defense.  Petzold’s parents made the flight to freedom Dr. Wolff is anticipating, so he is understandably sensitive to the everyday tribulations endured by East Germans.  Indeed, the film is best at conveying the guarded nature required for even the most prosaic of conversations and the jarring sound of that dreaded knock in the night.

Barbara Wolff easily represents Nina Hoss’s best performance to reach our shores.  Outwardly diffident but profoundly uneasy beneath her facade, the good doctor might be the best woman’s lead role of the year (and most years prior).  It is a tricky proposition to convey her character’s roiling inner turmoil as well as her concerted efforts masking it from the world, but Hoss pulls it off remarkably.  It demands a full scale Oscar campaign.  Former East German Ronald Zehrfield also helps complicate audiences’ emotional responses as the flawed but perhaps still idealistic Andre, who might also be a victim himself, in that manner unique to captive citizens of police states.

Exercising a masterful control of mood and ambient sound, Petzold vividly recreates a sense of life in the GDR, in all its oppressive austerity.  It is a lean, tense narrative, yet Petzold derives much of the suspense from within his characters rather than through external cloak-and-daggering.  A very accomplished film featuring Oscar-worthy work from Hoss, Barbara is very highly recommended when it opens this Friday (12/21) in New York downtown at the Angelika Film Center and uptown at the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas.

Haneke’s Amour

Death is the ultimate leveler.  It comes for all and unless the pharaohs were right, you cannot take it with you.  For years, one French couple lived a life of privilege and refinement.  However, the diseases of old age will rob them of their dignity and comfort in Michael Haneke’s Amour (trailer here), which opens this Wednesday in New York at Film Forum.

Selected by Austria as their official foreign language Academy Award submission, the Palme d’Or winning Amour is a French language film, set almost entirely in a Parisian flat, featuring two of the most acclaimed French actors of their generation: Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva.  At least, Haneke is Austrian.  Nevertheless, it qualifies under the Academy’s stringent rules for best foreign language features.  In fact, it is an acknowledged frontrunner.

Indeed, Amour’s themes and big name cast are distinctly Oscar-friendly, but this is a Haneke film, not On Golden Pond.  The emotions are darker and the sentiment will be hard earned.  Viewers initially meet Anne and Georges during a moment of triumph.  They have returned from a high profile concert given by Anne’s last and greatest music student, Alexandre, which they attended as his guests.  Unfortunately, soon after they return, Anne’s health begins to fail in a dramatic but protracted manner.

The slightly forgetful Georges is rather stunned to find himself in the caregiver role, but he does his best.  It is difficult though, both for him and Anne, as Haneke illustrates in a series of small but punishing scenes.  Of course, the framing device forewarns the audience Amour will end in tragedy, but how the couple reaches that point is the whole point of the film.

They say a good film can never be a downer and that is true, but as accomplished as Amour’s performances are, it probably should be avoided by those prone to depression.  The human frailty displayed by Trintignant and Riva is rather shocking, especially given their indelible cinematic images from classics like A Man and a Woman and Hiroshima mon amour.  Riva’s work is particularly brave, revealing her character’s pain and degradation, both physically and emotionally. 

While it is a less showy a performance, the bitter honesty of Trintignant’s Georges arguably represents the film’s true essence.  Though it is a thankless supporting role, Isabelle Huppert is still perfectly cast as their icily detached grown child Eva.  Classical pianist Alexandre Tharaud also has some touching moments as his namesake, who might be a better son-like figure than Eva ever was as their legitimate daughter.

Compared to some of Haneke’s previous work, Amour is distinctly sympathetic to his characters, but considering the unflinching focus he trains on them, “sensitive” might not be the most apt descriptive term for the film.  Aesthetically, it is also quite distinctive.  Production designer Jean-Vincent Puzos’s flat is elegantly photogenic and cinematographer Darius Khondji gives it all a gauzy, sophisticated look.  Yet, forcing us to bear witness to Georges and Anne’s intimate misery seems to be the extent of Haneke’s agenda.  Recommended with respect (rather than affection) for emotionally robust Francophiles and those who appreciate dramatic showcases, Amour opens this Wednesday (12/19) at Film Forum.

Submitted By Japan: Our Homeland

In the 1960’s and 1970’s, many Korean-Japanese immigrated back to their homeland.  Unfortunately, they chose the wrong one.  With family at risk in the DPRK, active members of Japanese-North Korean friendship associations had no choice but to tow the party line.  Yet, the implications of the basic foodstuff care packages they sent to loved ones spoke volumes.  Granted a special three month visit for medical reasons, one such “repatriated” North Korean reconnects with his guilt-ridden family in Yang Yonghi’s devastating Our Homeland (trailer here), which has been selected by Japan as their official foreign language Academy Award submission.

Yun Sung-ho most likely has a brain tumor.  Given the woeful inadequacies of the North Korean medical system, he is allowed to briefly return to Japan—after a five year waiting period.  He is fortunate his father is the president of the North Korean society, but he will still be monitored the entire time by his minder, Mr. Yang.  Regardless, his family is grateful to see him again, especially his poor mother.  Likewise, Rie is delighted to see her beloved brother again, but she cannot ignore certain ironies, like her brother developing malnutrition in the “Workers’ Paradise.”  Yes, she is our kind of free-thinker and the unambiguous conscience of Our Homeland.

Based on writer-director Yang Yonghi’s own family experiences recorded in Dear Pyongyang and a subsequent documentary, Homeland is even more direct in addressing conditions in North Korea.  Perhaps liberated by the fictional context, the film explicitly blames the DPRK for the misery of its citizens.  There is no inclination towards moral equivalency.  In fact, there is a clear affection for the Ozu-like quiet serenity of Japan.

While Yang’s script is unusually honest and challenging, her leads really make it hit home.  Dynamic and vivacious but deep as a river, Sakura Andô is simply remarkable as Rie.  It is an award caliber performance.  Conversely, it takes a while for Iura Arata’s pitch-perfect portrayal to sink in, striking uncomfortable chords between bitterness and resignation.  Boasting a top flight ensemble from top to bottom, Homeland is also distinguished and humanized by memorable supporting turns from Kotomi Kyôno as Yun’s ex Suni and Tarô Suwa as his loving blacksheep capitalist uncle Tejo.

An assured narrative debut, Yang masterfully controls the mood and tone, despite the almost complete lack of soundtrack music.  Her approach is intimate and not surprisingly documentary-like, but Homeland never feels overly talky or draggy.  Indeed, the emotional drama never slacks.

Our Homeland is a deeply compassionate film, but it is also somewhat angry, plainly calling an older generation to account for sacrificing their children on ideological grounds.  Its unmistakable critique of North Korean Communism might not sound like Academy fodder, but the foreign language division can be surprising in a good way.  After all, The Lives of Others won the Oscar and Andrzej Wajda’s Katyn was nominated before it even had American distribution.  Regardless, Our Homeland would be a worthy nominee that deserves an international audience.

Submitted By Bulgaria: Sneakers

When the youth of Bulgaria feel alienated, evidently they head to the beach.  It makes more sense than moping about a housing project.  Six disaffected slackers enjoy an idyllic retreat, but it can only last so long in Ivan Vladimirov & Valeri Yordanov’s Sneakers (trailer here), which has been selected by Bulgaria as their official foreign language Academy Award submission.

No girly-girl, Emi beats the snot out of her mother’s abusive boyfriend.  Turkish immigrant Gray has no shot with her, but he loyally follows her anyway. Eventually, they hook-up with Blackbird, a too cool to care coffeehouse performer, and his dedicated ex-boxer pal, Wee.  Having pummeled some lowlifes in a bar brawl, they are also looking for a change of scenery.  With no general plans, the four crash at the beach, where half-aspiring filmmakers Ivo and Fatso soon turn up.

The combination of a lot of booze, angst, the cute but sexually ambiguous Emi, and five guys, two of whom are very definitely attracted to her, ought to spell trouble.  Yet, whenever the film perches on the brink of conflict, the six dropouts resolve it rather simply (up until co-director-co-star Yordanov’s screenplay takes a weird climatic turn into left field).  While that might be rather appealing in the abstract, it is dramatically self-defeating.  There are also several conversations you might have to be Bulgarian—and possibly drunk—to get.

While Sneakers’ narrative is not really anything to write home about, it offers some appealing scenes of fun in the Black Sea sun.  Cinematographer Rali Raltschev deserves a citation of honor from the Bulgarian tourism bureau.  Yordanov, who made a real meathead impression in Kristina Nikolova’s Faith Love + Whiskey, acquits himself quite well, at least in front of the camera.  In fact, the ensemble performances are easily the strongest aspect of the film, with Philip Avramov and Ina Nikolova doing particularly sensitive, well-calibrated work as Blackbird and Emi, respectively.

A bit awkward at times, Sneakers is still perfectly presentable on the festival circuit, but it is most likely not bound for Oscar glory.  For professionals, it is definitely worth checking out for a look at its talented young cast.  Sneakers has screened in New York at a Bulgarian festival, but it ought to have a bit more fest action ahead of it, thanks to its Oscar contention status.

Submitted by Finland: Purge

Finland and the Soviet Union shared some complicated history over the last hundred years or so.  They fought at least two wars against each other, give or take, and then brought the world the term “Findlandization.”  In contrast, Estonia and the U.S.S.R.’s relations were more straight-forward.  The latter forcibly dominated the former and the Baltic Republic did not like it one little bit.  Although it tells an Estonian story, Sofi Oksanen’s novel has had great resonance for Finnish readers.  In fact, former East Carolina University basketball recruit Antti J. Jokinen’s adaptation of Oksanen’s international bestseller Purge has been selected by Finland as their official foreign language Academy Award submission (trailer here).

One fateful night, Zara, a sex slave fleeing her Russian mobster captors, seeks refuge at Aliide’s remote farm house.  The old woman is instantly suspicious, but she takes in the exploited woman nonetheless.  As it happens, Zara did not make her way there by accident.  Their tragic histories are intertwined, as the audience learns in a series of flashbacks.

Aliide was always a little strange.  While she fell head over heels for the dashing Hans Pekk, it is her sister Ingel who turns his head.  Yet, Aliide is more than willing to help Ingel shelter her former freedom fighter brother-in-law from the Soviet authorities.  Frankly, she kind of likes knowing exactly where he is at all times.  Decades later, that secret hiding space under the floor boards will come in handy again.

In a case of ironic symmetry, both women will suffer tremendously at the hands of Russians.  Even though Aliide eventually marries a true believer, she still cannot avoid seeing the inside of a Communist torture chamber.  Despite all the humiliations Zara endures as an unwilling prostitute, Aliide’s torments are probably even worse.  As a result, Purge is often a difficult film to watch, but it is never exploitative or moral ambiguous in the ways its presents such horrors.  Whether motivated by ideology or sadism, the reality of rape and assault remain the same.

Laura Birn gives an incredible performance as the mid Twentieth Century Aliide.  A twitchy young woman in an apparent state of arrested development, she is not the sort of victim figure viewers can easily embrace.  In truth, she has a bit of a Machiavellian streak, yet she still experiences more pain and degradation than anyone could possibly deserve.

Jokinen is not afraid to confront his audience with all manner atrocities.  Nonetheless, he also shows a deft touch with the quiet moments occasionally stolen by the Estonian lovers.  He clearly differentiates each time period without resorting to distracting visual gimmicks, balancing each narrative relatively evenhandedly.

Purge might be a dark horse contender, but Jokinen has Hollywood ties, having directed Hillary Swank-Kadyrov and Jeffrey Dean Morgan in The Resident, so who knows?  It is certainly a quality period production, which often counts for something with Academy voters.  It might be a bit too honest for their tastes though.  Regardless, Purge would be an enormously worthy nominee, definitely recommended for patrons who have a chance to catch it on the festival circuit.

Submitted by Poland: 80 Million

They called it a heist, but it was really withdrawal.  They were union dues in an account the Solidarity representatives were the rightful signatories for.  Yet not surprisingly, the Communist regime preferred to keep all funds under their control, so they could be immediately frozen should the need arise.  On the eve of martial law, a handful of workers-turned-activists anticipate a looming need for that money in Waldemar Krzystek’s factually based drama 80 Million (trailer here), chosen by Poland as their official submission for this year’s foreign language Academy Award, which screens as the closing night selection of the Skalny Center’s 2012 Polish Film Festival at Rochester University.

Winter 1981 will be a cold one.  Despite promises made, the Communists are not about to let Solidarity operate freely.  So far, they have waged a war of small ball provocation, desecrating Soviet war graves and the like in the guise of Solidarity activists.  However, when four real Solidarity supporters bust them in the act, in front of cameras, the stakes precipitously rise.

Perhaps too conveniently, there is a source offering government information to the Lower Silesia branch, but the dissident workers are not convinced they can trust him.  Still, his information always pans out.  Essentially warning them to expect a long siege, the quartet convinces each other high liquidity is in order.  Of course, it is never a good time to plan a major operation in a police state.  Staszek’s very pregnant wife is an obvious vulnerability.  Her high-ranking father can only protect her within limits.  While Maks does not have the same concerns when he takes up with Natalia, a French journalist of Polish heritage, she is something of a distraction.

How refreshing is it to see a film that uses the word “Commie” as a term of denigration.  It is equally appealing to see members of the Catholic Church playing a heroic role in the struggle to attain freedom and dignity for the people.  In many sad ways, 80 Million is actually a timely film, reminding viewers of the consequences of a media too closely aligned with the state.  Still, it is largely optimistic in tone, more intent on celebrating Solidarity’s triumphs than mourning those lost during the dark days of Communistic oppression.

Indeed, there is no nostalgia for the old regime.  At various times viewers see inside Communist torture chambers and eavesdrop on their ruthless scheming.  Piotr Głowacki is particularly detestable as the serpentine SB Captain Sobczak. Not to be spoilery, but the manner in which he gets his is quite satisfying.

Frankly, Krzystek’s severe docudrama style limits the time for character develop, but he sure can stage a massive protest.  The tenor of the times certainly comes through loud and clear.  Still, there are some memorable performances, most notably from Głowacki and Mariusz Benoit as “Kmicic,” the Deep Throat figure.  Emilia Komarnicka also turns up the heat in a variety of notable ways as Natalia.  Of our main co-conspirators, Wojciech Salarz’s worried father-to-be makes the strongest impression.  Unfortunately, Olga Frycz, whose earnest presence and youthful good looks helped make Jacek Borcuch’s All that I Love so special is almost criminally under-employed as Marta, an ex-girlfriend sheltering one of the fugitives.

Although Krzystek’s approach can be distancing now and then, he gives audiences more than enough to keep them emotionally invested in the not-really caper.  Marek Warszewski’s design team convincingly recreates Jaruzelski era Poland.  Again, that is nothing to be nostalgic for.  New Yorkers take note—this includes gas rationing lines.  A well crafted recreation of a fascinating historical episode, 80 Million would be a worthy Oscar nominee.  Recommended with a good deal of enthusiasm, it screens this coming Monday (11/19) as the closing night film of the Polish Film Festival at Rochester, which will also show Wojtek Smarzowski’s excellent Rose on Saturday (11/17).

Submitted By Russia: White Tiger

Ivan Naidyonov could be called the tank whisperer.  He seems to have the mystical power to commune with armored vehicles, but his environment is pure blood and guts.  War is still war, except more so on the Eastern Front in Karen Shakhnazarov’s White Tiger (trailer here), which Russia has chosen as their official submission for this year’s foreign language Academy Award.

Hoping to put the debacle of last year’s submission (Friend of Putin Nikita Mikhalkov’s universally panned Burnt By the Sun 2: Citadel) behind them, Russia has opted for another well-connected standard bearer in Mosfilm head Shakhnazarov.  However, in this case the quality of the film and the director’s critical reputation represent a considerable step up.

Picking through the remains of a routed Russian tank division, soldiers find a charred driver who is somehow still breathing.  Despite suffering severe burns to ninety percent of his body, the tank mechanic makes a full recovery, except for his acute amnesia.  Rechristened Ivan Naidoyonov (“found Ivan,” roughly), he is sent back to the tank corps.  He is a whiz at fixing and operating tanks, but he is a little spooky.  Naidyonov claims tanks speak to him and even starts preying to the “God of tanks” enthroned in the big garage in the sky.  Yet, he is just the man to track down and destroy the white German super tank that seemingly materializes out of nowhere to wreak destruction on blindsided armored columns.

For Naidyonov it is personal.  The spirits of the destroyed tanks have spoken to him about the White Tiger.  So perfect are its maneuvers, he is convinced its crew is “dead.”  He can sense it before it appears and it seems to be hunting specifically for him.

White Tiger might sound like Life of Pi in a tank, but at every battlefield juncture, Shakhnazarov chooses grit over woo-woo.  Everyone thinks Naidyonov is nuts, but they secretly suspect there might be something to him, particularly Major Fedotov, the counter-intelligence officer in charge of the hunt for the White Tiger. The resulting vibe is like The Big Red One as re-written by Melville.

With his studio’s resources at his disposal, Shakhnazarov stages some fantastic tank battles, vividly conveying their force and limitations.  During the first two acts, White Tiger is a completely original, totally engrossing war film.  Strangely though, the final third is largely dominated by completely unrelated scenes of the German surrender and Hitler’s ruminations in the face of defeat.  It is like White Tiger won the war, but lost the peace.  Still, since it is a war movie, the former is more important.

When Naidyonov and his obsession are center stage, White Tiger is genuinely riveting, with a good measure of credit due to its primary leads.  Aleksey Vertkov is perfect as Naidyonov.  Refraining from distractingly ticky or showy behavior, he is compellingly “off” in a way that could believably be recycled back into the Soviet war machine.  Even though in reality his character would have probably been purged halfway through the film, Vitaliy Kishchenko’s work as the square-jawed Fedotov is similarly smart, understated, and intense.

It is hard to understand why Shakhnazarov would establish such a powerfully focused mood, only to break it up down the stretch.  Still, White Tiger boasts two excellent performances and some impressive warfighting sequences, which is more than many of its fellow contenders can offer.  Academy voters certainly love them some WWII, so it is probably worth keeping an eye on.  Shakhnazarov has also had American distribution for past films like Vanished Empire, so White Tiger should have international legs.  Regardless of its flaws, White Tiger is a film of considerable merit that ought to find an audience.

A Royal Affair: Denmark’s Oscar Contender

King Christian VII of Denmark was reportedly Voltaire’s favorite monarch.  However, his revolutionary reforms were actually the brainchild of Dr. Johann Friedrich Struensee.  His mysterious advisor also assumed Christian’s kingly duties with the Queen, leaving all three vulnerable to the nobility whose interests they threatened.  Based on historical fact, Nikolaj Arcel dramatizes Denmark’s most famous and influential case of adultery in A Royal Affair (trailer here), his country’s official best foreign language Academy Award submission, which opens this Friday in New York.

The mentally unsound King Christian VII was a terrible husband.  Sleeping with everyone but his wife, Queen Caroline Mathilda (the sister of the other mad king, England’s George III), Christian’s dissipated lifestyle took a toll on his health.  To the alarm of many, Dr. Struensee earned the King’s confidence by somewhat restoring his vitality.  A not so secret enlightenment pamphleteer, Struensee shrewdly parlays his influence with the king into de facto governing authority.  For years, the Enlightenment had been slow in reaching Denmark, but suddenly it had leapfrogged the rest of Europe.

Of course, not everyone is happy with Denmark’s nouveau intellectual cool.  The King’s mother and the rest of the nobility are distinctly unamused.  Unfortunately, they will have a major weakness to exploit when the Queen and Struensee embark on a reckless affair.  Initially, she is rather put off by the doctor, but his passion and forceful personality soon look quite attractive compared to the genetic mistake she married.

Poor Christian.  He is a rather sad figure, but Arcel is clearly most intrigued by the infamous Oldenburg’s role in history.  Indeed, he has his moments in Affair.  Nonetheless, Mikkel Boe Følsgaard’s ticky man-child performance makes it easy to understand how the Queen could take up with Struensee, despite the obvious risks.

Mads Mikkelsen duly brings the haughty intensity his fans will expect.  As Struensee, he is clearly cruising for a Shakespearean fall, and even seems to recognize it deep down.  The weak link of the love triangle is definitely Alicia Vikander, whose Queen Caroline is a bit vanilla, even by Scandinavian standards.

The historical facts of the Struensee Affair are rather incredible, but the on-screen drama feels rather safe in a prestige picture sort of way.  The Enlightenment vs. Old Europe angle helps distinguish it somewhat, but even those not well schooled in Danish history will have a good idea where it is headed.  Still, it is quite a richly crafted period piece, capturing all the pomp of the royal court and the grime and depredation endured by everyone else.  Beyond the best foreign language Oscar stakes, costume designer Manon Rasmussen and production designer Niels Sejer’s team deserve some consideration during awards season. 

Ultimately, A Royal Affair is a perfectly respectable historical, but a bit of a cold fish emotionally.  Recommended for those who enjoy costume dramas, it opens this Friday (11/9) in New York at the Paris Theatre uptown and the reopened Landmark Sunshine downtown.

Subjectivity III: Death for Sale

Malik and his shiftless friends cannot blame anyone but themselves for the hash they make of their lives, but that won’t stop them from trying.  Still, official corruption, rampant crime, and Islamist extremism will not help their prospects any in Faouzi Bensaïdi’s Death for Sale (trailer here), Morocco’s official submission for best foreign language Oscar consideration, which screens during the third installment of MoMA’s Mapping Subjectivity: Experimentation in Arab Cinema from the 1960s toNow.

Malik is on the dole and almost proud of it.  He and pickpocket Soufiane have just welcomed home their drug-dealing best friend Allal from a short prison stint. Together again, they have no real plan except more of the same.  However, things change when Malik falls for Dounia, a high class call girl working for a swanky night club.

When the crooked Inspector Debbouz (is there any other kind in the port city of Tetouan?) raids Dounia’s club, Malik cuts a deal, becoming an informer to secure her freedom.  He might be a snitch, but he is still lazy.  Fortunately, right about the time Debbouz starts strong-arming him information, his friends start plotting a doomed-to-fail heist.

Actually, the plan to rob a Christian jeweler would not be so bad, except the newly radicalized Soufiane is determined to murder their victim as revenge for Israel and the loss of Andalusia.  That makes no sense to his friends either, leaving Malik rather spooked.  In fact, Bensaïdi’s depiction of the Islamists is pretty gutsy.  Deliberately targeting vulnerable recruits (they rescued Soufiane from a possible lynching), they clearly operate in much the same manner as a cult.  Sale even features some nudity, of the attractive variety, which might even be more daring.

Unfortunately, Bensaïdi’s characters do not have a lot of zip to them.  Malik and his running mates are all rather generic losers: the brooding loverboy, the hulking thug, and the bullied juvenile delinquent.  Mouhcine Malzi probably fares the best as the savage but calculating Allal.  Frankly, Sale’s supporting cast is more intriguing.  Imane Elmechrafi’s Dounia is quite the alluring femme fatale, while Bensaïdi himself makes a drily understated villain as Debbouz.

The coolest thing about Sale is Bensaïdi’s sense of the local architecture, used to inventively frame shot after shot.  He and cinematographer Marc-Andre Batigne create some memorable images, but the criminal melodrama is pretty standard stuff.  Nonetheless, Bensaïdi’s disinclination to pander to regional paranoia and victimization tropes is rather refreshing.  At least an interesting site to behold, Death for Sale is one of two highlights for Subjectivity III, along with Raja Amari’s Buried Secrets.  It screens at MoMA this coming Sunday (11/4) and Thursday the 15^th.

Submitted by Hong Kong: Life Without Principle

The Academy’s rules for best foreign language film submissions can be real head-scratchers.  Just by giving the decision-making power to the countries of original they virtual guaranteed no dissident cinema will ever be nominated.  This year, Hong Kong’s official submission was actually in local theaters before last year’s submission, but the both met the official requirements.  Regardless, Hong Kong has put forward a number of excellent films in recent years, without getting any love from Oscar.  Following Johnnie To’s super-cool Exiled, Alex Law’s exceptional Echoes of the Rainbow, and Ann Hui’s understated but powerful A Simple Life, Hong Kong has officially submitted To’s ripped-from-the-headlines Life Without Principle (trailer here), which is already available on DVD.

Greece is about to cause a lot of trouble for hard working Hong Kong residents on both sides of the law.  As the socialist basket case threatens to drag down the world economy, it will leave a number of people in precarious positions.  Inspector Cheung Jin-fong would not know anything about that.  Like usual, he is working a case, but his wife is about to enter into a dubious mortgage so they can purchase the apartment of her dreams.

That transaction will bring her to the office of Teresa, who is currently ranking dead last amongst her fellow boiler room colleagues.  Aware her job is on the line, she sells a dodgy BRIC fund to an elderly client, who really should have known better.  Teresa would really prefer to get her hands on some of the money loan shark Yuen has in his account, but he is strictly a cash man. 

As it turns out, others have had this idea too.  When underworld investment banker Lung loses the wrong people’s money during the ensuing financial panic, he and his low level Triad crony Panther plot to rob Yuen after he makes a withdrawal.  Again, they are not the only ones with that idea.

Principle skips about quite a bit, flashing forward and backward in time, while crisscrossing between its various characters.  Yet, To and his regular editor David Richardson maintain narrative clarity throughout.  Still, it is a bit of a slow starter, with much of the first act devoted to making the financial sector look like venal sharks.  Frankly, if Teresa’s dear old sucker is not suspicious after they make her watch several cautionary videos and sign off on waiver after waiver, than you wonder how she navigates a big bad city like HK.

Nonetheless, when the gangsterism intersects with the financial shenanigans, the picture really begins to click.  Here To is back on familiar turf.  Lau Ching-wan, Philip Keung, and Lo Hoi-pang ham it up with gusto as the in-over-his-head Panther, the sleazy Lung, and the even sleazier Yuen, respectively.  J.J. Jia also has some memorable moments as Lung’s femme fatale colleague, Ms. Ho.  Yet, though perfectly cast as the taciturn copper, Richie Jen (another To/Milky Way team regular) is oddly short-changed on screen time throughout Principle.

Principle is an entertaining film, but it does not pack the same punch as Simple Life or Echoes.  On the other hand, its financial tsk-tsking might appeal more to Academy voters.  At least To’s international reputation ought to earn it an attentive audience when it screens for the Academy’s foreign language committee.  Currently streaming on Netflix, Life Without Principle is a strong closer, definitely recommended for fans of HK film, but just not as satisfying as To’s Exiled and Vengeance.

NYFF ’12: Our Children

An unlikely character to build a film around, she is based on Belgium’s Susan Smith.  Following the story of a woman who killed her children in the press, director-co-writer Joachim Lafosse was disturbed by the way she was inevitably demonized.  In response, the filmmaker finds sympathy for the desperate housewife in his fictionalized Our Children (trailer here), Belgium’s official submission for best foreign language Oscar consideration, which screens during the 50^th New York Film Festival.

Mounir’s relationship with Dr. André Pinget is hard to define.  His boss and surrogate father technically really is his father, by marriage.  Years ago, Pinget married Mounir’s mother for immigration purposes, but she subsequently moved back to Morocco.  Pinget kept Mounir, as a son/sidekick.  When Mounir marries the Belgian Murielle against his advice, he welcomes her into the “family” and his home, but maintains his influence over Mounir.

For a while everything is great, especially with the doctor paying all the bills.  However, the combination of several young children in short succession and Mounir’s traditional notions of gender roles around the house (not exactly discouraged by Pinget) take a frightful toll on the woman.  Reduced to a pill-popping wreck, suddenly everything is her fault.

Lafosse succeeds in humanizing Murielle despite tip-toeing around the elephant in the room, Mounir’s Muslim perspective on home and hearth.  Strangely, she rather idealizes life in Morocco, prompting rebukes from both her husband and Pinget.  That would be no life for your daughters they warn her.  In effect, Lafosse presents her completely stressed-out without the benefit of adequate emotional support, rather than suggest she were the victim of a clash of cultures in her own family.

That gives Émilie Dequenne a steeper hill to climb, yet she still portrays Murielle’s slide into madness with remarkable power. The degree to which she physically manifests her mental disintegration is downright harrowing.  Even though the audience knows full well what unspeakable acts she will commit (eventually handled quite chillingly by Lafosse), one cannot help feel some measure of sympathy for her.

The film would not click together nearly so well without Niels Arestrup’s work as Pinget either.  Warm and jowly on the outside, he clearly projects something rather more unsettling underneath.  Many have likening his paternalism to colonialism and perhaps there is a kernel of truth to that, but he is also very much the controlling social worker or manipulative mother, who is always quick to bemoan “this is how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you” at the first sign of independent decision-making.  Yet, it is often hard to fathom the mindset of Tahar Rahim’s Mounir during all this, beyond his conspicuous self-centeredness.

Our Children is obviously a tough film to watch, but Lafosse keeps viewers locked in, masterfully using classical music and pop tunes to heighten the emotional angst.   While declining to address certain issues head-on, it is quite a showcase for Dequenne and Arestrup’s chops.  Recommended for those who appreciate challenging drama, Our Children screens this Friday (10/12) and Saturday (10/13) as a main slate selection of the 2012 NYFF.

NYFF ’12: Beyond the Hills

Alina is either tragically codependent or possessed by the Devil.  Radically different measures would be required depending on the diagnosis, but either way, she will visit a host of trials upon her girlfriend Voichita and her fellow Orthodox convent residents in Cristian Mungiu’s Beyond the Hills (trailer here), Romania’s latest official best foreign language Oscar submission, which screens as part of the main slate of the 50^th New York Film Festival.

Meek and pious, Voichita appears perfectly suited to a cloistered life.  Alina is a different story.  However, since her former friend has no real family, Voichita arranges for her to stay temporarily in her quarters.  Yet, as soon as she arrives, Alina starts badgering her former friend to leave with her.  Gently rebuffing her, Voichita watches in alarm as her visitor’s behavior becomes increasingly erratic and disruptive, evetually manifesting in several public meltdowns.  The priest and the nuns do not want to abandon a soul in need, but after the medical establishment washes their hands of Aline, there seems to be only one remaining course of action: exorcism.

Mungiu implies a great deal in Hills, very definitely including the nature of Aline and Voichita’s relationship, while leaving just as much open to interpretation.  It would also have been very easy to portray the priest and good sisters as stereotypical zealots dangerously convinced of their own infallibility.  However, Hills constantly reasserts the messy humanity of each character.  In fact, the ambiguity of the “possession” gives the film quite a distinctive flavor.  Frankly, after about two hours of Aline acting out, most viewers will be ready to throw their lot in with the nuns, holding down the devil-woman as the priest reads the purification scriptures over her.

With a running time of 150 minutes, Hills often feels like what it is, a product of the Romanian New Wave of independent filmmaking.  It probably would not have killed anyone had Mungiu shaved off twenty minutes or so.  Nonetheless, he elicits several riveting performances, the most notable being Cosmina Stratan as Voichita, the confused innocent.  As Alina, Cristina Flutur is also scarily convincing engaging in all manner of aggressive, self-destructive behavior.  Yet, it is Valeriu Andriută’s work as the priest, simultaneously severe and sympathetic, that really forestalls snap audience judgments.

Based on a novelized account of a real life incident in Moldova, Hills is not a kneejerk attack on Eastern Orthodoxy.  Nonetheless, as the Russian Orthodox Church hemorrhages international credibility due to its perceived alliance with the Putin regime, it is hard not to invest Hills with an additional layer of meaning, whether or not Mungiu intended it.  Given its ambiguous but evocative treatment monastic life and supernatural possession, Beyond the Hills would be a fascinating film to see in conjunction with Jerzy Kawalerowicz’s Mother Joan of the Angels.  Challenging in multiple ways, Beyond the Hills is recommended for hardy cineastes with at least a couple of Romanian New Wave films already under their belts when it screens tomorrow (10/1), next Sunday (10/7), and the following Thursday 10/11), as part of the 2012 NYFF.

NYFF ’12: Barbara

Intimacy is based on trust, so is it ever really possible in police state like Soviet-era East Germany?  Obviously, that is not the Stasi’s problem.  They are out to do everything possible to isolate and demoralize a dissident doctor.  Yet, in spite of her better judgment, she will develop ambiguously complicated feelings for her minder in Christian Petzold’s Barbara (trailer here), Germany’s official best foreign language Academy Award submission, which screens during the 50^th New York Film Festival.

As soon as Dr. Barbara Wolff applied for an exit visa, her brilliant career was effectively over.  Transferred from a prestigious East Berlin hospital to a provincial backwater, Dr. Wolff is all too aware of the eyes on her.  The most obvious set belongs to Andre, Barbara’s ostensive supervisor, whose role as the designated Stasi snitch is an open secret.  He has a surprisingly convincing good guy act though and he definitely seems to care about their patients, particularly Mario, a young man suffering from a mysterious head trauma that defies diagnosis.  Yet, the case that resonates deepest with Dr. Wolff is that of Stella, a recaptured prison camp escapee suffering from meningitis.

Wolff is not inclined to meekly submit to the Stasi’s mounting harassment.  Having hatched an escape plan with her West German lover, she believes her time in East Germany is limited, which is why she is so surprised by her growing attraction to Andre and her emotional investment in their patients.

Barbara has been described as Petzold’s response to Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s brilliant The Lives of Others.  That is true to an extent, but not in a polemical sense.  There is no nostalgia here for the Honecker regime, let alone a defense.  Petzold’s parents made the flight to freedom Dr. Wolff is anticipating, so he is understandably sensitive to the everyday tribulations endured by East Germans.  Indeed, the film is best at conveying the guarded nature required for even the most prosaic of conversations and the jarring sound of that dreaded knock in the night.

Barbara Wolff easily represents Nina Hoss’s best performance to reach our shores.  Outwardly diffident but profoundly uneasy beneath her facade, the good doctor might be the best woman’s lead role of the year (and most years prior).  It is a tricky proposition to convey her character’s roiling inner turmoil as well as her concerted efforts masking it from the world, but Hoss pulls it off remarkably.  Former East German Ronald Zehrfield also helps complicate audiences’ emotional responses as the flawed but perhaps still idealistic Andre, who might also be a victim himself, in that manner unique to captive citizens of police states.

Exercising a masterful control of mood and ambient sound, Petzold vividly recreates a sense of life in the GDR, in all its oppressive austerity.  It is a lean, tense narrative, yet Petzold derives much of the suspense from within his characters rather than through external cloak-and-daggering.  A very accomplished film featuring Oscar-worthy work from Hoss, Barbara is very highly recommended when it screens this coming Monday (10/1), next Saturday (10/6), and the following Tuesday (10/9) as a main slate selection of the 2012 New York Film Festival.