Rasoulof’s Manuscripts Don’t Burn

It was a dirty war Iran launched against itself. From 1988 through 1998, over eighty writers and reformist intellectuals are now thought to have been assassinated at the behest of high-ranking clerics and intelligence officials. Eventually, the nebulous outlines of the conspiracy were exposed by journalists subsequently railroaded on dubious criminal charges. Tackling the so-called Chain Murders (or events very much like them) would be a perilous course of action for any Iranian filmmaker hoping for official sanction, but as it happens, Mohammad Rasoulof has already been sentenced to a twenty year filmmaking ban. Produced entirely underground, Rasoulof’s Manuscripts Don’t Burn (trailer here) is a jaw-dropping feat of artistic integrity, which opens a week long engagement at MoMA this Friday.

Khosrow and Morteza are blue collar workers. They abduct, torture, and assassinate intellectuals thought to hold counter-revolutionary ideas by their Islamist masters, especially those looking to publish their work. The memoir of dissident writer Kasra would be particularly incendiary because it addresses the role played by the current intelligence minister in the attempted assassination of twenty-one public intellectuals on their way to a writers’ conference in Armenia.

In an effort to protect his manuscript, Kasra has sent copies to two of his lucky intelligentsia friends. Unfortunately, the secret police already have this intel, so Khosrow and Morteza are soon dispatched to torture the poet Kian and eventually fake his suicide. It is an assignment that comes at a bad time for Khosrow. Unlike the more mercenary Morteza, he fervently believes in the righteousness of the state ideology. However, his wife is convinced their son’s severe health issues are a form of divine retribution for the crimes he has committed. To make matters worse, the apparatus of terror has been slow to make the payments he so desperately needs for his son’s surgery.

The word bold just does not do Burn justice. Rasoulof shines a spotlight on censorship, torture, state-sponsored murder, and religious hypocrisy, all of which look even worse than one would imagine. If he missed a third rail, it would have to be the condition of women under the misogynist regime, but Burn offers more than enough to process as it is. Employing a cast and crew of expatriate Iranians, all of whom remain uncredited for their protection, Rasoulof’s film feels relentlessly authentic. Yet, despite the power of its indictment, Burn still functions as a taut political thriller.

Hopefully, one day soon we will safely know the identity of Rasoulof’s artistic collaborators. For now, we can only give them a collective ovation, but the fearless actor playing Kian deserves special mention. The Academy and its brethren should review their bylaws regarding anonymous work, because his performance as the suave, world weary poet truly merits award consideration. Likewise, the screen thesp cast as Khosrow creates a deeply riveting portrait of guilt and fanaticism, making it impossible to dismiss the film as mere polemics.

Like the work Jafar Panahi produced in defiance of his own filmmaking ban, Burn is about as independent as a film can get. It is also a masterwork from an accomplished artist. The allusion to Mikhail Bulgakov makes it even timelier, given Russia’s recent military adventurism with respects to its former Soviet era captive nations. Tragically though, the title is rather ironic—manuscripts really do burn—and so do writers. Very highly recommended, Manuscripts Don’t Burn opens this Friday (6/13) at MoMA, as part of their ongoing ContemporAsian film series.

ContemporAsian ’14: Bends

Anna Li is a lady who lunches. She is not Marie Antoinette. She simply is unprepared for the speed at which fortunes can reverse in Hong Kong. Her Mainland chauffeur is not a revolutionary. He simply wants a safe delivery for his pregnant wife, but they cannot afford the punitive second child fee. Each will face an economic crisis, but Fai’s will be exacerbated by geography in Flora Lau’s Bends (more sensibly known as “Crossing the Border” in Chinese language territories, trailer here), which launches the new season of ContemporAsian at MoMA.

Li organizes charity events and looks good on her husband’s arm at business functions. She seems quite satisfied with how things have turned out, even if her spouse is a bit of a shark and a player. The fact that he has not been home for several days does not seem to raise any red flags for her, but she definitely takes notice when her credit cards are declined. Finding their accounts drained or frozen, Li starts hocking the family art collection to keep up appearances in her social circle.

Meanwhile, Fai has his own problems. Although he has been granted HK citizenship, his wife Ting is still Mainland PRC. To hide her advanced pregnancy, she becomes a veritable prisoner in their Shenzhen flat. It is all very confusing for their little girl Haihai. Fai needs money to smuggle her across the border and a hospital admission letter to secure her a bed for delivery, but both are hard to come by for a man of his position.

Bends sounds about as hot-button as it gets, indicting HK’s laissez-faire economy on the right and the Communist Party’s unforgiving family planning on the left. Yet, the execution is decidedly quiet and intimate. Happily, Lau offers viewers character studies rather than white papers, but the first time director’s sense of pacing is still a bit flat. However, she gets a key assist from superstar cinematographer Christopher Doyle, who makes it all look coolly elegant.

Yet, it is unquestionably Carina Lau who makes the film. Approaching legendary status, Lau still makes a convincing trophy wife, but it is her chops that truly impress in Bends. Despite Li’s outward reserve, Lau clearly expresses her mounting confusion and anxiety. At the risk of belaboring the point, Lau brilliantly pulls viewers into Li’s inner turmoil rather than resorting to the sort of bug-eyed arm-flailing Meryl Streep over-indulged in throughout Osage. What can we say? Lau is simply much better at their craft.

Understatement is all very well and good, but Chen Kun nearly wilts into the background as Fai. Nevertheless, a strong supporting cast keeps him propped up in key scenes. Even with limited screen time, Stephanie Che makes a lasting impression as Lulu, Fai’s old HK flame, who now works as a maternity nurse. As Ting and Haihai, Tian Yuan and young Tu Jiamen also humanize the story rather compellingly.

There is no denying the wider issues raised by Bends, but it is only zeitgeisty after the fact. In the moment, it is unflinchingly intimate in its focus. Recommended for fans of Lau and those who appreciate films helmed by women, with great roles for women, Bends screens Monday through Sunday (4/21-4/27) as part of MoMA’s regular ContemporAsian film series.

ContemporAsian: The Woman in the Septic Tank

Desperately poor, Mila is about to sell one of her seven children to a sexual predator.  Relax, it is only a movie.  It isn’t real.  It isn’t even really happening in the film either, just the film-within-the-film, if it ever gets made.  The poverty fetishism of international festival films gets a healthy skewering in Marlon Rivera’s The Woman in the Septic Tank (trailer here), which is currently screening at MoMA as part of their continuing ContemporAsian film series.

Mila is in for a host of degradations, but we will only see a few scenes of her painful life over and over, as first-time director Rainer, his producer Bingbong, and their PA Jocelyn try to best calibrate the privation porn for politically correct film festival audiences.  Whenever possible, they crank up the transgressiveness and even contemplate turning it into a musical (bringing to mind a certain Lebanese Oscar wannabe). 

Of course, the key will be casting a big star as Mila to secure the financing.  As luck would have it, real life comic superstar Eugene Domingo is looking for a prestige project.  There will have to be a meeting of the minds on certain creative decisions first though, including which of Domingo’s three forms of [over]-acting Rainer would prefer she employ for the film.

Displaying an unusually sporting sense of humor, Domingo plays herself and really lets herself have it.  It is definitely a larger than life diva turn, but it aptly serves the film’s sharp satire.  The indie filmmakers are certainly on the receiving end of plenty of jokes as well, particularly as they wax ghoulishly rhapsodic about the cinematic potential of the teeming slum locations, until reality rudely intrudes.

Kean Cipriano and JM de Guzman are a bit colorless as Rainer and Bingbong, respectively, largely functioning as straightmen to Domingo and the overriding concept.  However, Cai Cortez adds a bit of spark to the film as their not yet completely disillusioned assistant.

If there is one thing indie films do well it would be taking themselves too seriously.  That is why Septic is such a welcome corrective.  Screenwriter Chris Martinez (who previously directed Domingo in the popular tearjerker 100) dishes out some rather bold comedy.  Ironically, audiences at MoMA might actually pick up on a few more jokes than Filipino viewers, because the films Septic sends up are produced almost entirely for foreign venues (like MoMA).

Although diminishing returns start to set in, the film sure signs off with a happy ending.  It might be somewhat small in scope, but it is wickedly pointed.  Heartily recommended for cineastes who will both get and appreciate the humor, The Woman in the Septic Tank runs through Monday (5/28) at MoMA.

ContemporAsian: Tatsumi

Yoshihiro Tatsumi could be called the Japanese Will Eisner. Tatsumi was the leading exponent of Gekiga, or serious manga that tackled adult story lines. Americans that are very hip or awfully geeky will already know Tatsumi’s work, particularly his Eisner winning graphic novel-autobiography, A Drifting Life. For the rest of us, Singaporean Eric Khoo’s Tatsumi (trailer here) serves as a compelling introduction to his career and stories, when the starkly beautiful animated tribute-biography opens this Wednesday at MoMA as part of their ongoing ContemporAsian film series.

Tatsumi was ten when World War II ended. Logically, the American occupation and economic revival of Japan would factor prominently in his life and that of his characters. Khoo intersperses five notable Tatsumi stories, mostly in black-and-white, amid his vivid color adaption of the Gekiga pioneer’s memoir. Psychologically complex and deeply flawed, it is clear how Tatsumi’s characters were shaped by their creator’s experiences. In fact, it is easy to conflate them with Tatsumi, particularly the unfortunate artist in Occupied.

Each of the five constituent stories would stand alone as satisfying self-contained short films. However, the most powerful of the collected adaptations comes first, by virtue of chronology. Hell forthrightly addresses the horrors of Hiroshima and its aftermath, but it takes viewers to some unexpectedly dark places, undercutting simplistic moral judgments. Throughout all five stories, there is a profound sense of alienation, often prodding the protagonists to commit shockingly anti-social acts out of existential compulsion, but their actions are always understandable, in a sadly human way.

Though his life was never as lurid as that of his marginalized characters, Tatsumi’s early years were marked by considerable pain and want. Khoo structures the film in a way that really emphasizes how these struggles instilled a humanistic empathy in Tatsumi, embracing those who were downtrodden and even grotesque. Ultimately, it is rather inspiring to see the artist rise from such mean circumstances to become an acknowledged leader of his field.

Rendered by Singapore-based creative animation director Phil Mitchell in a style akin to Tatsumi’s, the film’s animation is deceptively simple, but eerily expressive. Tatsumi’s warm voice also narrates the biographical portions of the film bearing his name, forging a further connection between subject and viewers.

It really says something when Singapore’s film establishment selects a film about a Japanese artist to represent the country with Academy Award voters. Yet, the film’s undeniable artistry and Khoo’s international reputation had to be a compelling combination leading to its submission for best foreign language film consideration at this year’s Oscars. Indeed, this is a richly rewarding film that deserves considerable international attention. Not just for manga readers, Tatsumi is enthusiastically recommended for broad-based general audiences when it screens at MoMa starting this Wednesday (4/4), through the following Monday (4/9).

ContemporAsian: The High Life

It might be unorthodox, subversive even, but the underground “trash” poetry one Chinese prison has his inmates read aloud surely beats the little red books of old. They agree quite enthusiastically, mostly. It is still hard living, both inside and out, for regular citizens excluded from China’s economic boom times in Zhao Dayong’s High Life, which screens this weekend as part of MoMA’s ContemporAsian film series.

Perhaps new arrivals to Guangzhou ought to know better than to give money to a job placement consultant whose office is a card table on the street. Sadly, desperation delivers a fairly regular stream of suckers willing to pay for Jian Ming’s supposed services. Departing from procedure, he actually finds a job for Xiao Ya at a dodgy beauty parlor. Yes, she is young and cute, but his assistance comes at a steep price. Xiao Ya’s misfortune will temporarily jar Jian Ming out of his moral lethargy, indirectly leading him to prison, where High spins off in a completely different direction.

Dian Qiu is a prison turnkey, a cog in the state machinery of oppression. Unlikely enough, he is also a trash poet, who composes sexually and politically charged verse suitable for a hardcore hipster slam. The prisoners seem to enjoy reciting his naughty lines aloud (including a thinly veiled reference to the Tiananmen Square massacre) while they work. Of course, it is not like they have much of a choice. Still, he seems to have a genuine rapport with the women inmates, which might even extend to romance with number 58. Unfortunately, tenderness never lasts long in such a brutal environment.

The protest poet-prison guard might sound like it could only happen in New York, but Dian Qiu is actually played by Shen Shaoqiu, a real life copper who moonlights as an underground poet. He is also a remarkably assured and natural actor. His scenes with the wonderfully expressive Diao Lei as 58 are touching in a realistically mature and restrained way. Indeed, their presence and chemistry makes High’s second half far stronger than Jian Ming’s now familiar story of street hustler naturalism. Qui Hong is not particularly engaging as the con man either, but Wang Teng is rather effective and affecting as Xiao Ya.

Stylistically, High follows right in line with the work of China’s so-called “Digital Generation” of independent filmmakers, but cinematographer Xue Gang has a good eye for the teeming Guangzhou backdrop, rendering it like a blighted Brazilian favela. While the tenuously connected narrative halves might sound gimmicky, the film frankly gets a shot in the arm from the shift. A challenging film well worth sticking out the slow start, High screens again today (6/25) and tomorrow (6/26) at MoMA.

ContemporAsian: Make Yourself at Home

Since the 1950’s, Christianity has grown rapidly throughout South Korea. Of course, there are still those who hold to traditional Confucian, Buddhist, and Shamanistic practices. This clash of cultures transports itself to suburban America in Soopum Sohn’s psychological thriller-drama Make Yourself at Home (trailer here), now screening at MoMA as part of their continuing ContemporAsian film series.

Sookhy comes from a long line of mystical shaman, which she has broken by accepting an arranged marriage to Peter Kim, a nearly fully assimilated Korean living in America with his domineering mother. Yes, they are most definitely Christians. Still, he might not be so bad when he is away from Deaconess Kim’s watchful eye. Yet, it is Julie Waits, the privileged wife of Kim’s next door neighbor, who seems to make the greatest impression on Sookhy. In fact, she even adopts Julie as her Americanized name. As tragedy, perhaps of a vaguely supernatural nature, strikes the Kim family, Julie 2 draws closer to Julie 1. Then things get strange.

Home (previously known as Fetish) somewhat follows in the tradition of Kim Ki-young’s classic 1960 film The Housemaid, suggesting one should be careful who you let into your home, because you might not be able to get them out. Yet, Sohn pulls an interesting jujitsu move with audience sympathies, clearly leading viewers to identify with the innocent newlywed bride, before throwing them a battery of curve balls. Though his pacing can be rather deliberate, his psychosexual gamesmanship holds more than a few jolts, while never feeling lurid.

Arguably Home’s greatest credibility issue of Julie Kim’s strange preoccupation with Julie Waits’ ivory blonde looks. Not too disparage actress Athena Curry, but it is Korean superstar Song Hye-kyo (notable as the lead in the North-South costume drama co-production Hwang Jin-yi) who really lights up the screen. She deftly handles Sookhy/Julie’s strange evolution, without ever completely losing the audience’s sympathies. While she is tremendous, Curry and Austrian actor Arno Frisch (with constantly modulating accent) frequently look more than a bit awkward as the Waitses. However, June Kyoko Lu’s nuanced performance delivers unexpectedly human dimensions to the problematic Mother Kim.

Though the endgame plays out a bit longer than it perhaps should, Sohn and co-writer Maragaret Monaghan devise enough attention-grabbers along the way to keep audiences fully engaged. Recommended for its strangely compelling story and Song’s mesmeric presence, Home screens at MoMA through Monday (10/11).

ContemporAsian: My Dear Enemy

Japan’s decade-long economic downturn has one advantage. Every contemporary film and novel created during that period now feels timely to the rest of the world. Such is the case with Lee Yoon-ki’s Korean adaptation of Japanese author Taira Azuko’s novelette, My Dear Enemy (trailer here), which starts a week-long run today at the MoMA.

Set in Lee’s Seoul rather than Azuko’s Tokyo, the Korean economy has done no favors for single thirty-something Hee-su. As Enemy opens, she needs money rather badly, so when she gets a line on the slacker ex-boyfriend she once loaned the equivalent of $3,500, she moves in to collect the old debt. Of course, the preternaturally irresponsible Byung-woon does not have two cents to his name, but he promises to raise the money from his lucky friends. However, he insists Hee-su come along for the ride.

For the rest of the day, Hee-su has the awkward experience of meeting a parade of Byung-woon’s ex-girlfriends, many of whom seem rather out of his league, like the well-heeled hostess played by Oh Ji-eun. However, they all seem willing to float Byung-woon yet another loan to retire his debt with Hee-su, while he seems to take perverse enjoyment in the asking. Naturally, their mission encounters inevitable detours along the way, as well as a host of quirky personality types. There are also hints of the old magic between the former lovers, as well as plenty of fresh reminders of their incompatibility.

Hee-su and Byung-woon spend nearly the entire film forced together in confined spaces, like her car, the subway, or strange apartments. There is big-time history between them, but the audience only learns the broad strokes of their failed relationship. Jeon Do-yeon and Ha Jung-woo are absolutely convincing as the mismatched exes (Hee-su and Byung-woon, respectively), subtly conveying the chemistry which initially brought them together, as well as the frictions and annoyances that ultimately drove them apart. A rising star who won best actress honors at the 2007 Cannes Festival (for Secret Sunshine), Jeon’s finely nuanced performance is particularly memorable, expressing the mounting desperation as well as the considerable regrets of the normally reserved Hee-su.

Lee Yoon-ki is a sensitive director, who lovingly frames his shots. He lets each scene play out at a natural, unhurried pace, but the results never feel sluggish or self-indulgent. He also gets a big assist from Kim Jeong-beom’s sprightly swing-oriented jazz soundtrack, which prevents the film’s momentum from ever dragging.

While Enemy might be small in scope, its “deal with the ex” storyline has a universal appeal. It is a handsomely produced film, featuring an especially honest and emotionally direct performance by Jeon Do-yeon. It opens today (11/20) as part of MoMA’s ongoing ContemporAsian film series.