Panah Panahi’s Hit the Road

Families are pretty much the same everywhere and they face very similar challenges, mostly. This Iranian family has trouble relatively specific to (but widespread within) the Islamic Republic. Their adult son faces vaguely defined political charges, so they intend to smuggle him over the Turkish border. It could be their final family road trip in Panah Panahi’s Hit the Road, opening today in New York.

Apparently, this is not an uncommon family experience in Iran. It is almost like the Western ritual of driving kids off to their first day of college, except it might be forever. Of course, the Mother and Father cannot let on to their seven or eight-year-old Helion that his big brother might be leaving for good. They have to keep up appearances and he just wouldn’t understand. In fact, there is a very real possibility the morals police could be following them, which would hold disastrous consequences.

Compounding the family’s stressful deceptions, their ailing family dog Jessy is failing fast, but they have concealed his fatal condition from the younger brother. Mother and Father constantly bicker over Jessy, in coded language, but it is really a proxy to express their fear and frustration over the Older Brother’s impending exile.

Panahi is indeed the son of Jafar Panahi and a former protégé of Abbas Kiarostami. Not surprisingly, you can see echoes of his father’s later work, especially in the claustrophobic setting of the car, which contrasts with the grand mountainous exteriors and the theme of movement and escape. Despite Older Brother’s circumstances, Panahi tries to avoid making political and ideological statements. However, his inclusion of forbidden, pre-Revolutionary popular songs issues a quiet rebuke of the state’s pervasive censorship. Nevertheless, Hit the Road was shot and produced legally, above-board and in the open, unlike his father’s most recent films (such as This is Not a Film, Closed Curtain, and Taxi).

Slamdance ’22: We are Living Things

If there are aliens out there, they shrewdly select people for their close encounters. They only show themselves to the credibility challenged, like hermits, eccentrics, weirdos, Jimmy Carter, etc. Two conventional undocumented aliens—one from China, the other from Mexico—certainly qualify as marginalized and they have personal history that makes them believers in Antonio Tibaldi’s We are Living Things, which screens (online) as part of the 2022 Slamdance Film Festival.

Chuyao was smuggled to New York by a trafficking gang that still controls her, in typical trafficker ways. While servicing her tenement apartment, Solomon the handyman spots tell-tale signs of their mutual alien obsession. Considering her a kindred spirit, he starts watching over her. Soon, he suspects Tiger, her handler, has nefarious plans for her. However, Chuyao is instinctively distrustful of Solomon, as she is of nearly everyone in America.

Eventually, Tibaldi’s film turns into a road movie, with the two UFO-trackers searching for an abduction site with special personal meaning to Solomon. In many ways, Living Things could serve as an apt companion film to Encounter, but while one steadily debunks its paranormal aspects, the other keeps the door open to the possibility.

The Trip to Greece: One Last Jaunt

Greece is the birthplace of the marathon and EU austerity budgets, but neither represents the style of Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon’s culinary tours across Europe. It is only five-star restaurants and hotels for them, but if the formula works, why fiddle with it? The British comedic actors return for one more jaunt playing hyper-meta versions of themselves in Michael Winterbottom’s The Trip to Greece, which actually opens today in a handful of cities and also releases on-demand.

Coogan has won seven BAFTA Awards—and don’t you forget it. However, the caricature he has created of himself is somewhat lonely and regretful, especially compared to the uber-meta Brydon, who is a happily contented husband and father. Throughout the series, he has been totally fine to receive second-billing to Coogan, especially since it gives him the liberty to deflate his friend’s self-important pretensions.

This time around, they will be reviewing the finest restaurants in Greece, but they are well aware they have done this several times before (in Spain, Italy, and the North of England), as their jokes will attest. Turkish viewers might possibly object to the title, since they retrace Odysseus’s trek, starting at the site of ancient Troy in Turkey. Mortality will also cast a shadow over this Trip, because Coogan will constantly call his fictional son for news on his ailing fictional father.

Of course, the heart and soul of the latest Trip remains their improvised banter and one-upping celebrity impersonations. They revisit greatest hits, like Michael Caine and Roger Moore, but they probably get their biggest laughs doing Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

The Strange Ones: Hitting the Road with a Brooding, Fractured Psyche

Usually when people are on the run from the law, they are in more of a hurry. As road movies go, this one makes The Straight Story feel like a breakneck thrill ride. Yet, there is no point in rushing for Sam (or maybe Jeremiah) and his [not]-brother Nick to rush about willy-nilly. They are really fleeing reality and it is bound to catch up with them eventually in Lauren Wolkstein & Christopher Radcliff’s The Strange Ones (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Something very bad happened to Sam’s father and both he and Nick were there when it happened. Is Nick really his brother? Clearly, we are being led to doubt it, so who is he anyway? Essentially, Wolkstein & Radcliff will tease out the answers to our what-the-heck questions over eighty-some minutes, even though they were able to wrap up the previous short film incarnation of Strange Ones in an economical fourteen minutes.

Eventually, Sam/Jeremiah winds up alone, or perhaps he always was anyway. Regardless, he seeks shelter in what initially looks like some sort of back-to-nature, outward-bound cult preying on children. Yet, the culty camp director seems to be the most accepting and responsible figure in the entire film. That is especially unsettling because he is played by Gene Jones, who totally rocked Ti West’s Jim Jones Peoples Temple-inspired The Sacrament.

Reality might very well be flimsy and ever-shifting in Strange Ones, but it isn’t even going for genre head-tripping thrills. Instead, it is deathly serious about Sam’s traumas. There is definitely a vibey, otherworldly kind of thing going on, greatly aided and abetted by cinematographer Todd Banhazi’s gossamer diffracted light, but it always keeps us on the outside, looking into Sam’s hermetically sealed world. It is a shame the film gets so wearying, because it squanders a dynamite, uncomfortably honest performance from Olivia Wang as Sam’s ambiguous school friend Sarah.

The festival circuit fell in love with James Freedson-Jackson’s lead performance, but we just don’t get it. The young Cop Car thesp certainly does what is asked of him, but mainly that entails moping and brooding. In contrast, Alex Pettyfer’s Nick is fascinating to watch, because he is so unpredictable. He nearly earns a pass for the entire picture with an incredible diner scene (you’ll know it when it happens).

Radcliff & Wolkstein are talented emerging filmmakers. Frankly, Wolkstein’s short film Social Butterfly was the head-and-shoulders best constituent selection in the Eye-Slicer anthology pilot that premiered at this past year’s Tribeca. Unfortunately, the Strange Ones feature fix-up is too stretched out and diffuse to properly come together as a unified cinematic statement. Not recommended (but not resented either), The Strange Ones opens tomorrow (1/5) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

DFF ’17: Godspeed

Cabbies and drug mules have one thing in common: the mileage. That is particularly true of Old Xu, an expat cab driver originally hailing from Hong Kong. In contrast, Taiwanese Na Dow is new to the drug delivery business and he might not last very long. Their comical road trip periodically takes dark detours in director-screenwriter Chung Mong-hong’s NYAFF-selected Godspeed (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Denver Film Festival.

It figures Na Dow might be in for some trouble, because his boss Da Bao barely survives the extended prologue. Someone is clearly looking to move in on his business, so Da Bao and his lieutenant Wu will discretely follow Na Dow on his latest run. It turns out to be quite ride when the mule reluctantly agrees to the persistent Xu’s terms. Their misadventures will really just confuse their secret shadows, rather than vindicating or condemning Na Dow.

Godspeed veers all over the road, but it still works nearly every step of the way. HK comedy veteran Michael Hui still goes for plenty of laughs, but Old Xu is definitely a sad clown. It is a complex, deeply humane performance that directly compares with Eric Tsang’s even more serious turn in Mad World. Na Dow (as his namesake) is an adequate straight man and he has some nicely turned moments down the stretch, but he is definitely the junior partner of their tandem.

Starting right from the start, Leon Dai nearly steals the picture several times over as the deceptively quiet and amusingly sly Da Bao. Ironically, a lot of viewers will be disappointed when they discover he really isn’t the focus of the film. As an extra added bonus, professional steely Thai authority figure Vithaya Pansringarm does his thing as the drug lord who nearly kills Da Bao, mostly just because he is psychotic.

Chung seems to be a bit like Tarantino in that he has a knack for casting nostalgically beloved actors in roles that help redefine them for younger generations. He did it with Jimmy Wang Yu in the wonderfully subtle and evocative supernatural film Soul and obviously, he did it again here with Hui. While Godspeed is bit plottier and talkier than his previous film, it still very much a work of mature restraint.

The guys who have been around the block a couple times really come through in Godspeed. It is a flattering showcase for Hui’s talents, but Dai, Pansringarm, and even Tou Chung-hua (as Da Bao’s dealer crony) score plenty of points. Despite some sudden tonal shifts, it still keeps purring along, because Chung trusts his characters and never overplays his hand. Recommended for fans of wry caper and road movies, Godspeed screens this Saturday (11/4) and Sunday (11/5) during the 2017 Denver Film Festival.

Big Significant Things: Road Angst

Craig Harrison is looking for enlightenment on the Stuckey’s circuit, hoping to hash out his man-child hang-ups one pecan roll at a time. No, it is not likely to work. His retreat from reality might even make matters worse. Harrison finds himself a long way down Holiday Road in Bryan Reisberg’s Big Significant Things (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

In about a week, give or take, Harrison will marry his longstanding girlfriend. She is currently house-hunting on their behalf in San Francisco, whereas he is taking a driving tour of the eccentric roadside attractions of the Gulf Coast, taking in wonders like the world’s biggest cedar bucket. What does she think of this division of labor? Actually, she believes Harrison is still on a fact-finding trip with his business colleagues, but she is still not thrilled with the arrangement.

So what’s wrong with Craig Harrison (not the British sniper or the New Zealander speculative novelist)? Aside from his galloping immaturity, it is hard to say. It is probably safe to assume he is feeling pressure from all the wedding business and the cold hard financial realities of house hunting, but the film never really gets at what his deal is.

Frankly, a little bit of him moping in motel rooms goes a long way. However, BST gets a much needed energy boost from Finnish actress Krista Kosonen, playing Ella, an unlikely Finnish expat. She exudes an unconventional sultriness and sings a distinctive, haltingly hushed singer-songwriter tune at an open mic night. The way she captures Ella’s insecurities in this scene is quite sensitively rendered and surprisingly compelling.

Indeed, there are several exquisitely crafted moments, but most of the film feels like slow, dry connective tissue. As Harrison, Harry Lloyd does his best to charm his way past the character’s inherent self-indulgent jerkiness, but it is a laborious task. However, Kosonen exhibits tons of breakout potential with her quiet but intense work as Ella. Sylvia Grace Crim also helps liven up the overly dour proceedings as Ella’s hard-partying crony.

No matter how you parse it, spending a lot of time with Craig Harrison in a car is not a joyous proposition. Still, the Route 66-ish nostalgia of his road trip is sort of appealing. It is neither big nor significant, but at least BST is a thing. It features some promising performances, but the film itself is hardly essential. It opens today (7/24) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

Submitted by China: The Nightingale

Like an MTV awards show, you can count on China’s official foreign language Oscar submission to generate unnecessary controversy. Usually, it comes from regime-friendly films submitted at the expense of internationally acclaimed festival favorites that do not slavishly toe the Party’s line. In 2008, nobody saw the Olympic doc Dream Weavers: Beijing 2008 outside of the Mainland, but it got the nod over Jia Zhangke’s 24 City. Again in 2013, the Chiang Kai-shek demonizing Back to 1942 was selected over Jia’s A Touch of Sin. See a pattern here? Ironically, the Chinese authorities went in the other direction this year, snubbing Diao Yinan’s Golden Lion winning Black Coal, Thin Ice in favor of an intergenerational road movie directed by a Frenchman. Playing it safe, China might actually win a bit of favor with older Academy members with this year’s official submission, Philippe Muyl’s The Nightingale (trailer here).

For the second official French-Chinese co-production, Muyl “revisited” the themes from his 2002 film, The Butterfly. Instead of a butterfly collecting grand-père, Zhu Zhigen is spry old-timer, who longs to return his beloved late wife’s nightingale to their former village. Estranged from his son for dubious reasons, Zhu has never really known his privileged but lonely granddaughter Renxing. However, when her mother Qianying must leave on another business trip before her architect father Chongyi returns from his own, she is reluctantly left in Zhu’s care. Rather than just sit around the flat, he resolves to take her and the nightingale on a trip to his ancestral home, while he and the bird still have the time.

Of course, Renxing is initially quite a pill to travel with, but just as certainly, a bond will soon form between them. She will also start forging real friendships with children her own age when a series of detours forces them to make a long stop-over in an insanely picturesque village quite a bit out of their way. Eventually, Renxing’s parents will follow after them, having first resolved to divorce. Can the newly sensitive Renxing find some magic in Guangxi to keep them together?

Probably, but it all looks lovely on-screen regardless. While mostly rather apolitical, Nightingale’s journey can be interpreted as a celebration of traditional village life and a critique go-go urban values (like capitalism and democracy) by implication, making it quite compatible with current regime messaging.

In all honesty, there are worse strategic choices than Nightingale when it comes to Oscar love. As Renxing, young Yang Xinyi is just relentlessly cute. Likewise, the veteran Li Baotian nicely balances stately dignity with a bit of scrappy attitude. Eric Qin and Li Xiaoran are also rather photogenic and reasonably engaging as the parents learning their predictable lessons. Yet, Renxing and Zhu’s most important co-star is the lush natural vistas cinematographer Sun Ming artfully frames.

On a technical level, Nightingale is quite accomplished, featuring one of Armand Amar’s best film scores to date (no, he’s not Chinese either). Still, it is undeniably conventional and sometimes shamelessly manipulative—neither of which are necessarily bad things for Oscar campaigning, but will leave more adventurous viewers wishing it had been slightly more ambitious. A major case of niceness, The Nightingale is now in contention for foreign language Oscar consideration, pretty much guaranteeing it a return engagement at next year’s Palm Spring International Film Festival and probably considerably more attention on the wider fest circuit.

Land Ho!: Iceland Beckons

Colin and Mitch are ex-brothers-in-law. Hallmark probably does not have a card for that, but Mitch is not a Hallmark kind of guy. Colin sort of is, but it hasn’t worked out for him. To ease the sting of his recent divorce and financial hardships, he reluctantly agrees to accompany Mitch on a first class tour of Iceland in Martha Stephens & Aaron Katz’s Land Ho! (trailer here), opening this Friday in New York.

After Colin sunk his savings into his second wife’s dubious business scheme, she rather brusquely left him holding a bag of debt. The well-heeled Mitch feels rather bad about that. The shamelessly outgoing surgeon still fancies himself a player, but his ego is still bruised from his involuntary retirement. Hoping to revive their spirits, Mitch books passage to Iceland, cracking wise every step of the trip. As anyone who has seen Robert Altman’s The Player should know, Iceland is very green, whereas Greenland is very icy. Nonetheless, they find plenty of snow during their genial series of misadventures.

Frankly, that is sort of the long and short of it. Sure, they argue and meet up with some attractive female companions (distant relatives mind you, so nothing brewing there), but Land is not exactly a plotty film. Instead, Stephens and Katz basically rely on immense screen charisma of their two principals, which largely bails them out.

As Mitch, the devilishly lewd hedonist, Earl Lynn Nelson scores consistent medium-sized laughs. There probably isn’t an earthy punchline he can’t land. Paul Eenhoorn nicely counter-balances him, as Colin, the reserved everyman. They develop a terrific bickering, bantering rhythm that is highly watchable. Eventually, they do address their fundamental issues of mortality and human frailty, but the proceedings never get excessively deep.

Land is almost fatally nice and pleasant. It is an impossible film to dislike, but after a screening, not much of it sticks to the ribs or the subconscious. Viewers struck by the co-leads’ timing and presence should subsequently check out Chad Hartigan’s This is Martin Bonner, in which Eenhoorn plays a darker, richer version of a similar late-middle aged character. It is an exceptional performance. Nonetheless, Land will more likely be the film he and Nelson will be recognized for—and that is fine. Recommended for those looking for a breezy, bittersweet comedy that is light in calories, Land Ho! opens this Friday (7/11) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

On My Way: Catherine Deneuve Takes a Road Trip

A former Miss Brittany, Bettie has always been able to turn men’s heads, but that does not necessarily mean she has an aptitude for business. No seriously, it doesn’t. With her bills and the disappointments of life compounding, she sets out on an impulsive road trip in Emmanuelle Bercot’s On My Way (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

For years Bettie has settled for being the mistress of the man she thinks she loves. However, when he leaves both her and his wife for a much younger woman, Bettie loses her only reason for staying in her ever so provincial town. While serving lunch at her soon to be insolvent restaurant, she suddenly ups and leaves in search of cigarettes. She will range pretty far in search of smokes, but why not?

After a night drinking at a road house and an incredibly awkward tryst, Bettie finally gets a justification for her walkabout. Her estranged, nearly unemployable daughter needs her to drive Charly, the grandson she barely knows, to his paternal grandfather’s house, so she can leave for a dubious job abroad. 

Of course, it will not be a smooth ride, but at least OMW picks up speed as it goes along. As viewers learn Bettie’s backstory, they will become more apt to forgive her dubious decisions, but she remains a hard figure to fully embrace. That makes her psychologically realistic, but also a bit of a pill to spend screen-time with. Likewise, Bercot’s real life son Nemo Schiffman is certainly convincingly churlish as the androgynous Charly. However, in his screen debut, painter Gerard Garouste supplies exactly the sort of worldly gravitas the film needs as Alain, Charly’s curmudgeonly grandpa.

Like a cross-country drive, OMW has its highs and lows.  While Bettie is essentially the sort of sexually confident senior Shirley MacLaine used to specialize in, her chemistry with Garouste, the non-professional thesp, is fresh and appealing. Pleasant enough, but overly susceptible to unnecessary detours, On My Way is mostly recommended for Deneuve’s older Francophile fans when it opens this Friday (3/14) in New York at the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas.

Sake-Bomb: Have a Drink Cousin

As a sake-brewing apprentice about to succeed his master, Naoto relates to the potent potable on a deep level.  It is almost sacrilegious to ask him to drink a sake-bomb (the old sake shot submerged in a beer).  Nonetheless, he acquits himself fairly well when he hits the California party scene with his snarky cousin (better than the churlish vlogger, in fact).  Eventually, everyone will learn a thing or two in Junya Sakino’s extended family road comedy, Sake-Bomb (trailer here), which opens today in Los Angeles.

Naoto could not possibly be more earnest.  When agrees to take over his master’s brewery, he also follows the old man’s advice, taking a week’s vacation to finish working through any lingering regrets he might have in his personal life. His pursuit of Olivia, his long lost summer lover, brings him to the Moritas’ apartment in Los Angeles. 

Sebastian is crashing there with his father, because he is unemployed and has just been dumped by his girlfriend. He is not exactly keen to shuttle Naoto up to Petaluma in hopes of finding the elusive Olivia, but his father insists. Naturally, they first take a detour to a party in Irvine, so Sebastian can make a complete clown of himself in front of his ex.  At least, they meet a few interesting types there, including Joslyn, the naughty graphic novelist who catches Sebastian’s eye.

Pound for pound, there might be more identity jokes in S-B than any other film this year, largely taking the form of Sebastian’s video posts.  He is angry with Asian women who date white guys.  He is angry with white women who do not date Asian men.  He is angry with white people who cannot distinguish between Asian nationalities.  He is not too thrilled with the Chinese either, so buckle up.  On one hand, some of this material pushes the envelope of politeness.  On the other hand, it is pretty funny sometimes.

As Sebastian, Eugene Kim never holds back on the attitude.  He is almost too abrasive, considering the audience obviously is supposed to embrace him during the third act.  However, likability is not a problem for Gaku Hamada, the popular Japanese star of Potechi (Chips), who subtly but surely conveys the strength of character beneath Naoto’s naivety. Together, their over-the-top and understated personas play off each other quite nicely.  Future star-in-the-making Jessika Van also scores in her scene as a friend of Sebastian’s girlfriend, giving him what-for.  Yet, for a certain demographic, former porn star and California gubernatorial candidate Mary Carey upstages everyone as, you know, a porn star.

Sake-Bomb never reinvents the buddy movie-wheel, but it has an edge and a good deal of heart. Better than the typical Phillips and Apatow grind ‘em outs, Sake-Bomb is recommended for fans of slightly raucous but well-intentioned rom-coms when it opens today (11/8) in Los Angeles at the Downtown Independent.

HERE: Mapping Armenia

An American satellite cartographer has come to revise the official maps of Armenia, including Nagorno-Karabakh, which is a geopolitically significant twist. Though no expert on the local culture, Will Shepard still recognizes his assignment will be complicated. Yet, he has other reasons for taking on an Armenian photographer as his translator in Braden King’s HERE (trailer here), opening this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

Shepard is a bit socially awkward, but he has the sort of job only people in the movies have. As a mapping technician, he verifies satellite imaging with field measurements. He can also drink, which stands him in good stead with the locals. Gadarine Najarian left Armenia to pursue her photography. Recently returned, she knows the language and the country, but is somewhat estranged from her family. Somehow their chance meeting leads to a shared journey through Armenia’s harsh mountains and across the demilitarized zone into Nagorno-Karabakh. Slowly, their ambiguous attraction evolves into a full scale romance. Yet, both remain uncertain about the implications of their rocky relationship.

For better or worse, the tone for HERE is set by periodic woo-woo interludes narrated by Peter Coyote that pay poetic homage to the mapmakers and explorers of yore. They are definitely pretentious, but weirdly effective nonetheless. The same might be said for the film overall. It is generously stocked with striking vistas and impressionistic scenes of in-the-moment intimacy, but it is rather stingy with plot and dialogue. Frankly, it has a hypnotic lulling effect that is quite distinctive, but is absolutely unsuited to mass market tastes. Indeed, King’s non-narrative filmmaking background is clearly reflected in HERE. Stylistically, it might also remind some viewers of some of the recent Iranian and Romanian art films, which is certainly appropriate, given its proximity.

Arguably, the most important contribution to HERE came from the location scouts, who helped take viewers to some of Armenia’s amazingly picturesque hidden corners. Cinematographer Lol Crowley makes it all look quite National Geographic worthy, while still capturing the delicacy of the pseudo-courtship underway.

Ben Foster and Lubna Azabal (recognizable to hardcore cineastes from the Oscar nominated Incendies) have real ships-passing-in-the-night chemistry as the travelers, keeping the audience largely invested in their metaphorical slow dance. They look interesting together, which is rather fortunate, because viewers watch a lot of them taking it all in.

Though it scrupulously avoids hot button controversies, like the Ottomans’ Armenian genocide and the legacy of Soviet oppression, HERE is likely to be a highly divisive film with audiences. Some will get caught up in the enormously seductive vibe, while others will be frustrated waiting for something to happen. In all truth, a bit more narrative muscle would not have undermined the rich atmosphere, but at least it has that going for it. Respectfully recommended for contemplative, self-selecting audiences, HERE opens this Friday (4/13) at the IFC Center.

Loznitsa’s My Joy

Like anyplace, Russia has its share of urban legends, but theirs seem to carry the oppressive weight of the country’s tragic history. At least, such seems to be the case with the stories that inspired documentarian Sergei Loznitsa’s narrative feature debut, My Joy (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Having spent considerable time on the road, truck driver Georgy is no babe in the woods. He is hardly shocked by the venal cops who hassle him or the teenaged (if that) prostitute hustling business when a major accident closes the highway. Still, he tries to help her, but like contemporary Russia, she will have none of it. However, his trip goes seriously awry when he tries to take a detour around the backed-up traffic.

Though not overtly supernatural, the fateful back road takes the driver into a very malevolent place, somewhat in the spirit of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. Like a horror film written by Beckett, Georgy is sucked into an absurdist village, where predatory behavior is the norm. Time becomes indeterminate in this twilight world, with the tragic past echoing strongly in the corrupt present day.

This is particularly true of an old hitchhiker’s story, easily the film’s strongest mini-arc. According to the mysterious stranger, he had been a heroic Lieutenant during WWII, but when a crooked local Commander robbed and humiliated him, his response permanently relegated the man to the nameless margins of Russian society. One of many discursive interludes, the Lieutenant’s flashback is rather bold because it directly challenges the great patriotic mythos built around the Soviet war years, as do the mutterings of a quite possibly mad veteran, apparently boasting of a Katyn Forest style massacre, heard later in the film.

Loznitsa presents a vision of a country sick in psyche, where those who have served it best are victimized the worst. He does not exactly tell this story in a straight line, bouncing off characters and subplots like a pinball. Frankly, Joy can be a little tricky to follow, but the heavy parts are hard to miss.

Though a Russian narrative, Joy was filmed in Ukraine working with a Romanian cinematographer, Oleg Mutu, who lensed acclaimed films like Tales From the Golden Age and 4 Months 3 Weeks and 2 Days. He vividly conveys a sense of the harshness of a Russian winter and the dreariness of Georgy’s village with no exit.

As befits the material, Loznitsa’s cast is appropriately dour and weathered looking. If not exactly charismatic, Viktor Nemets is rather scarily effective as the protagonist, losing all sense of persona in the madness enveloping him. Again, perhaps the strongest turn comes from Alexey Vertkov, who is viscerally intense as the Lieutenant whose story might be “fake but true” as the old media likes to say.

With its sometimes murky connections and several subplots that sputter out as soon as they are introduced, Joy is undeniably messy. Yet, things tie together in intriguing ways, perhaps requiring repeated viewing to fully pick up on. It also holds an unflattering mirror up to Mother Russia, both present and past. Indeed, when it works, it is viscerally powerful stuff. Recommended for those well versed in the thematically and stylistically similar films of the Romanian New Wave, Joy opens today (9/30) in New York at the Cinema Village.

Coogan vs. Brydon: The Trip

One is Welsh (and don’t you forget it). The other is from The North, but much of the time they sound like their roots are strictly working class cockney. Prepare for a pitched battle of Michael Caine impressions. There will also be gourmet food. British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon play British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon, respectively, in Michael Winterbottom’s pseudo-fictional road-movie buddy-comedy The Trip (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

Coogan is one of the biggest stars in the UK. Just ask him, he’ll tell you. Divorced with a son he should see more of, Coogan’s personal life is pretty much a mess. His girlfriend has called a timeout and returned to America right before he is scheduled to take a culinary tour of the North of England on behalf of a major magazine. Stuck with a gig he only accepted because he thought she would enjoy it, Coogan invites along his old kind of chum Brydon in her place.

Hardly a big star, Brydon gets paid to make silly voices on the radio. However, the working class comic knows perfectly well there are worse ways to make a living. Happily married with a little girl, one hopes Brydon’s life is only thinly fictionalized. In contrast, we soon wish the moody Coogan portrayed in The Trip is largely an invented persona. They have one thing in common though. Both have very definite ideas on how Michael Caine should sound, which they demonstrate, repeatedly. Recognizing good material, Coogan and Brydon frequently return to the well and it is still funny each and every time.

Edited to feature length from the original six-part British mini-series, Trip is consistently droll, even when not plundering the Sir Michael comedy store. Stylistically very different, Coogan and Brydon play off each other quite well. Their mostly improvised bickering banter is always razor sharp, but never overly caustic. Coogan even offers a spot of credibly understated drama as his own rather miserable self. Yet, the film will not afford him the opportunity of blaming his parents, presenting them as warmly supportive and not at all embarrassing (at least by parental standards) when Coogan and Brydon pop in for a quick visit.

Throughout Trip, viewers also get a driving tour of the North, which looks quite picturesque through cinematographer Ben Smithard’s lens. Still, one suspects 111 minutes of the Lakeland district might be just about right, unless you have reservations at some of the elite restaurants Coogan and Brydon visit. Witty without getting too cute or annoyingly self-referential, The Trip is surprisingly entertaining, definitely recommended when it opens tomorrow (6/10) on two screens at the IFC Center.

Tribeca ’11: The Trip

Prepare for a pitched battle of Michael Caine impressions. There will also be gourmet food. British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon play British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon, respectively, in Michael Winterbottom’s pseudo-fictional road-movie buddy-comedy The Trip, which screens at the 2011 Tribeca Film Festival (currently underway in Chelsea and the East Village).

Coogan is one of the biggest stars in the UK. Just ask him, he’ll tell you. Divorced with a son he should see more of, Coogan’s personal life is pretty much a mess. His girlfriend has called a timeout and returned to America right before he is scheduled to take a culinary tour of the North of England on behalf of a major magazine. Stuck with a gig he only accepted because he thought she would enjoy it, Coogan invites along his old chum Brydon in her place.

Hardly a big star, Brydon gets paid to make silly voices on the radio. However, the working class Welsh comic knows there are worse ways to make a living. Happily married with a little girl, one hopes Brydon’s life is only thinly fictionalized. In contrast, we soon wish the moody Coogan portrayed in The Trip is largely an invented persona. They have one thing in common though. They both have very definite ideas on how Michael Caine should sound, which they demonstrate, repeatedly. Recognizing good material, Coogan and Brydon frequently return to the well and it is still funny each and every time.

Edited to feature length from the original six-part British mini-series, Trip is consistently droll, even when not plundering the Sir Michael comedy store. Stylistically very different, Coogan and Brydon play off each other quite well. Their mostly improvised bickering banter is always razor sharp, but never overly caustic. Coogan even offers a spot of credibly understated drama as his own rather miserable self. Yet, the film will not afford him the opportunity of blaming his parents, presenting them as warmly supportive and not at all embarrassing (at least by parental standards) when Coogan and Brydon pop in for a quick visit.

Throughout The Trip, viewers also get a driving tour of the North, which looks quite picturesque through cinematographer Ben Smithard’s lens. Still, one suspects 111 minutes of the Lakeland district might be just about right, unless you have reservations at some of the elite restaurants Coogan and Brydon visit. Witty without getting too cute or annoyingly self-referential, The Trip is surprisingly entertaining, definitely recommended when it screens again Tuesday (4/26) and Saturday (4/30) during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Israel’s Human Resources Manager

In addition to mundane benefits administration and payroll management, HR managers do a bit of PR flackery in Israel. They also have to worry about terrorism. When an immigrant worker at a struggling bread factory is murdered during a Palestinian attack, but goes unmissed for days, it creates a media scandal that must be dealt with by the title character of Eran Riklis’s The Human Resources Manager (trailer here), the winner of Israeli Academy Award for best picture, which opens this Friday in New York.

She is the only character in the film with a proper name. Yulia worked the graveyard shift on the lowly cleaning crew. She had a son back in Romania, but seemed to like living in Israel, at least according to secondhand reports. The HR Manager would not know. He does not even remember her. In all fairness, he has had plenty to distract him. In fact, the HR Manager clearly hates working in HR. However, he accepted the Jerusalem-based position in hopes of mending fences with his estranged wife and their sensitive daughter.

During his investigation, the protagonist learns the messy but oh-so human reason why Yulia’s absence went unnoticed for so long. Naturally, he is reluctant to air their laundry in public. Unfortunately, the journalist pursuing the story has no interest in truth. He simply sees an opportunity to embarrass a supposedly exploitative corporation. (Yes, some things are universal, regardless of national boundaries.) In order to put the controversy to rest, the HR Manager must escort Yulia’s body back to her family in Romania. Yet, even that task turns out to be more complicated than he anticipates.

Though HR eventually settles into the road movie format, it is far deeper and sadder than typical on-the-road fare. More than anything, it is the quietly compelling work of Mark Ivanir as the HR Manager that distinguishes the film from the pack. He conveys a complex lifetime of experience just in the way his character carries himself. Clearly missing the action of an earlier life, but profoundly world-weary and haunted, he is an extraordinary everyman.

Unlike Riklis’ previous film The Lemon Tree, HR is not an explicitly political movie. Yet, for American audiences, the everyday reality of terrorism will loom over the film. The value Israelis place on human life, even anonymous immigrants like Yulia is equally evident. Truly, a film HR could never be produced within any of Israel’s neighbors.

As Israel’s official submission for best foreign language Academy Award consideration, HR is a considerably worthier candidate than the recent Oscar winner, In a Better World, but it was not even shortlisted. Academy voters in this category were simply out to lunch this year. HR is a film of subtle emotional payoffs, honestly earned, primarily through Ivanir’s remarkably strong and dignified lead performance. A very good film, HR opens this Friday (3/4) in New York at the Landmark Sunshine.

Wende Flicks: Burning Life

Thanks to the reunification process, the former DDR was spared most of the “Wild East” lawlessness that some former Soviet satellites had to work through (and has since been institutionalized in Russia). Despite the orderliness of Germany’s transition, two East German women bandits could still be embraced as cult heroes in Peter Welz’s Burning Life, which screens next Wednesday during the final night of the Wende Flicks retrospective of post-Fall of the Wall films from the East German DEFA studio at New York’s Anthology Film Archives.

Anna Broder is the outgoing one. A could’ve been jazz singer, she is seriously scuffling, with only a vintage Soviet Chaika sedan to her name. Always the quiet type, Lisa Herzog hardly reacts to her father’s suicide. Instead, she decides to take her pains and frustrations out on a bank. When Broder just happened to be there to provide a timely assist, it starts something bigger. Suddenly, they are on the lam with Herzog’s pet rat (named Nikita in honor of old Khrushchev), playing Robin Hood after each bank job. Of course, it is all rather embarrassing for the reconstituted post-Wende local authorities striving to re-assert their legitimacy.

Considering Burning’s unambiguous riffs on Ridley Scott’s Thelma and Louise, it is difficult not to draw parallels between the two films. However, Welz keeps the tone lighter, down-playing the feminist victimization themes that defined its American predecessor. By Hollywood standards, it is a decidedly apolitical film, aside from its cynical regard for authority.

Rather than document the still lingering decay of the East, Welz does his best to mask it, primarily going for humor instead, using Nikita in several gags and staging some musical numbers that stretch the boundaries of credible verisimilitude. If seen in conjunction with some of the other Wende Flicks that combine gritty naturalism with surreal absurdity, Burning will feel like an easygoing respite.

In fact, it is pleasantly amusing, in large measure due to the chemistry between leads Anna Thalbach (not playing her namesake) and Maria Schrader (who is an appropriately okay but not great vocalist). Though deliberately intended as a commercial road movie, Welz twists the genre enough to be interesting to American audiences. While it might be one of the slighter films of the Wende Flicks series, it was one of the more popular of its day. A likable diversion, Burning screens this Wednesday (11/3) at Anthology Film Archives.

Brazil at its Seediest: Carmo Hit the Road

Even in romantic Brazil, border towns are pretty skuzzy. There are not a lot of career opportunities either, unless you happen to be a self-starting smuggler. Determined to get out of town, the floozyish Carmo invites herself along with a particularly surly contraband runner, but there will be no clean getaways in Murila Pasta’s gritty, grimy road movie, Carmo, Hit the Road (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Carmo has been trading on her looks and rather flexible morals, but it has not gotten her far enough from her past. Carrying merchandise hot two-times over, the wheel chair bound Marco is not looking for a partner, but circumstances force him together with Carmo. Naturally, they bicker, sulk, and part ways several times, while the goods in the back of Marco’s track (whatever they might be) often change hands between him and a rival pair of low life thugs out to hijack his big score.

Though these might be relatively standard issue road movie capers, the earthy characters have a refreshing lack of quirkiness. Do not look to Marco for cheap life-affirming inspiration. Instead, Fele Martínez’s admirably unsentimental performance brims with anger, resentment, and considerable menace. Likewise, writer-director Pasta never sugarcoats Carmo’s less than ladylike life strategies. Indeed, Road is largely distinguished by the honesty of its characterizations (aside from the cartoony portrayal of Carmo’s sexually voracious, super Catholic mother). Yet, Pasta dissonantly wraps it up with a gauzy, compulsively happy ending completely at odds with the grungy naturalism that led up to it.

Intense and frankly a bit scary, Martínez is just really darn good as Marco. Credibly attractive but not ridiculously so, Mariana Loureiro also holds her own quite nicely, projecting a strength of character to match Marco’s bitterness. Together they exhibit decent screen chemistry, allowing the audience to buy into their inevitable mutual attraction.

It is hard not to smile at the Latinized version of Ray Charles’ “Hit the Road Jack” heard all too briefly in Pasta’s feature debut. Still, make no mistake, Road is no Two for the Road or It Happened One Night. At times, there are moments of jarring violence totally consistent with its seamy border-town setting. Indeed, that effectively seedy atmosphere and the strong performances of its two principal leads nicely differentiate Road from other recent road movie offerings. Bold in its grubbiness, Road opens this Friday (10/15) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

Road Comedy: White Wedding

When Elvis and Ayanda tie the knot, it will not just be a wedding. It will be a microcosm of contemporary South Africa. The groom is Zulu, the bride is Xhosa, and the best man Tswana. There might even be some Afrikaner guests, who will be surprised as anyone to be there. However, Elvis has to get there in time for it to happen. Naturally, events conspire against him in Jann Turner’s road comedy White Wedding (trailer here), South Africa’s official 2009 submission for best foreign language Oscar consideration, which opens this Friday in New York.

Elvis is earnestly devoted to Ayanda, but for some reason he entrusts his safe arrival to Tumi, his aging playboy best man. Unfortunately, a run-in with a jealous ex sets in motion a string of complications that have them hopelessly lost and perilously late. It hardly helps Elvis’s stress level when Tumi insists on picking up Rose, a very white British hitchhiker. When they breakdown in a less than inviting Afrikaner community things look bad, but remember, this is a melting pot comedy.

Indeed, Wedding is a refreshing departure from many recent South African film exports, which tend to be either highly politicized or grittily violent. Instead, it offers a vision of middle class diversity and harmony. Frankly, it is kind of sad Wedding’s style of inclusive light comedy has been so scarce in South African cinema, but its domestic box office success should spawn a welcome new trend. Of course, the “get-me-to-the-church-on-time” storyline is about as predictable as one would expect, but Turner’s execution is rather crisp, never letting the film wallow in sentimentality.

A veteran of South African television, Turner is the daughter of the late anti-apartheid activist Rick Turner and the step-daughter of executive producer and best-selling novelist Ken Follett, who has unusually prominent billing for an EP. (Oddly, both Follett and Rick Turner’s most famous books happened to be titled The Eye of the Needle.) Still, Wedding was definitely a multiracial effort, co-written with Turner’s two principal actors Kenneth Nkosi and Rapulana Seiphemo, with whom she worked on a South African soap opera in the late 1990’s.

There is indeed a nice sense of rapport between Nkosi and Seiphemo. The former is appropriately earnest as the harried groom, while the latter is credibly rakish as the best man. In fact, Nkosi has some effective scenes chewing him out for his responsibility and commitment issues. Turner also handles the budding attraction between Tumi and Rose (played by an engaging Jodie Whittaker) quite deftly, acknowledging its significance but not belaboring the racial issues.

Despite some game performances, it is hard to be shocked by Wedding’s compulsively feel-good conclusion. Of course, most people do not really go to the movies to be surprised. They want that happy ending. Endearing in its way, Wedding opens this Friday (9/3) in New York at the AMC Village 7 and Empire 25.

Indie Road Trip: The Yellow Handkerchief

Brett Hanson weathered the storm of Katrina from the relative safety of his prison cell. Released after six years, he tentatively faces his new life, unsure if his wife will take him back, or whether she even should. Hoping to stay out of trouble on the trip home, he logically hitches a ride with two troubled teenagers in Udayan Prasad’s The Yellow Handkerchief (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Hanson is not really a violent man. He just seems to be his own worst natural disaster. Unfortunately, he is a repeat offender, who was probably fortunate to have made parole. He was definitely lucky to have won over his wife May, considering how rocky their courtship was, as the audience sees in multiple flashbacks. Though not entirely comfortable in the role, he acts as an unlikely de facto chaperon for his traveling companions, while ruminating on all his past mistakes.

Gordy is a squirrely kid, who is on the road because his family does not want to deal with him (and it’s hard to blame them). Martine is a popular high school student, who heads south in the hopes that her absentee parents will eventually notice she is missing. While Hanson closely guards his own secrets, she feels an instinctive connection with the world weary ex-con.

What could have easily degenerated into a parade of indie road movie clichés is truly elevated by William Hurt’s powerful but admirably understated performance. True to his character’s strong, silent reserve, he still clearly conveys the lifetime’s worth of pain and regret Hanson carries around with him. Likewise, Maria Bello projects the right vulnerability and hardscrabble dignity as May. Kristen Stewart, a tweener superstar from the Twilight films, is actually a pleasant surprise, giving a mature and complex performance as the needy Martine. However, Eddie Redmayne’s Gordy is annoying beyond any reasonable credibility. Whenever he is on screen, you would think Yellow is an extended commercial for Ritalin.

Adapting Pete Hamill’s early 1970’s short story to post-Katrina Louisiana, Prasad capitalizes on the Pelican State’s atmospheric environment, but never really embraces the distinctive local music (Cajun, Zydeco, jazz, blues, swampy R&B), opting instead for a conventionally cinematic soundtrack. Sensitively lensed by cinematographer Chris Menges, it all looks right, but sounds kind of dull.

As the odd trio speeds down towards the Gulf Coast, Yellow hurtles towards an unapologetically emotional payoff. Yes, it is absolutely manipulative, but it works thanks to the grit and honesty of Hurt’s performance, which could even be considered Oscar worthy, if it were not in an indie movie released in the month of February. He makes the film what it is—ultimately a modest, nice little film about human frailty. It opens tomorrow in New York at the City Cinemas 1-2-3 and the Regal Union Square.

(Photo Credit: Eric Lee / Samuel Goldwyn Films)

Belgian Road Movie: Eldorado

Belgium might be a small country, but it is big enough for a road trip. Evidently, it can also get a little weird out there on those Belgian highways. Such is the experience of Yvan and Elie when they set off in Bouli Lanners’s Eldorado (trailer here), Belgium’s official submission for the 2008 Best Foreign Language Academy Award, which opens tomorrow in New York.

The two road buddies do not exactly meet cute. When Yvan, a John Goodman-looking vintage car dealer returns home one night, he finds Elie the junkie in the middle of an incompetent burglary attempt. For personal reasons, he takes mercy on the gaunt and greasy Elie, even taking it upon himself to drive him to his estranged parents’ home.

Of course, out on the open road, anything can happen, as Eldorado’s two mismatched sad sacks encounter all kinds of inclimate weather and eccentric characters. The film effectively evokes many uncomfortable memories of cross-country road trips. It seems like poor Yvan and Elie are always lost and shivering in the cold, dark rain.

Director Lanners also costars as Yvan, and he fills out the role quite effectively. He is definitely a crying-on-the-inside kind of clown, who has some particularly touching moments with Elie’s mother, played with heartbreaking honesty by Françoise Chichéry. Unfortunately, as Elie, the rather wooden Fabrice Adde makes a particularly weak foil for Lanners, the far more interesting screen presence of the duo.

Though Eldorado follows most of the quirky, bittersweet conventions of the road movie, when it ultimately arrives at its destination, it turns out to be a very dark place indeed. In fact, some viewers might be disturbed by a plot point involving a dying dog, mortality injured in an apparently senseless act of cruelty.

While Eldorado offers some lovely scenery, it is hardly a commercial for Belgian tourism. It is a naturalistic portrayal of increasingly rootless and disconnected people. Its humor is fleeting, but its pessimism lingers. At least it makes an impression, though. It opens tomorrow in New York at the Angelika.