Crazy Brazilians: The Last Madness

Though we are never explicitly told what went wrong in Danilo Porto’s last production, we know it happened during a simulated hanging. Obviously, that would not be an opportune time for technical difficulties. It took a toll on Porto as well. After a breakdown, he finds himself checked into a friend’s sanatorium for a little “rest” in Cris D’Amato’s The Last Madness, now available on DVD.

Though not exactly mad, Porto has several unhealthy obsessions, most notably with Goethe’s Werther and Motta Coqeiro, the subject of his ill-fated production. Though little about Coquiero is available in English (at least online), he is evidently quite well known in Brazil as a historic symbol of injustice. A wealthy landowner, he is thought to have been wrongly executed as a result of his wife’s duplicitous scheming.

Though the emperor could have commuted his sentence, he refused to avoid charges of class favoritism. Indeed, Coqueiro very definitely seems to be a victim of class warfare. He was also most likely innocent. His case is thought to have ended capital punishment in Brazil, though some historians apparently dispute such claims. There are also hints Coquiero’s tragic life holds additional significance for Porto, even before his stage meltdown.

Thanks to the support of his friend and former lover, Dr. Márcia, Porto rebounds. He puts the moves on the “just-friends” girlfriend of an out-patient and even starts teaching a drama class at the sanatorium. Then he has the bright idea to stage a revised version of his Motta Coquiero play with his students. Right, put a bunch of mental patients in a play that ends with a hanging, what could go wrong with that?

Actually, the big shocking conclusion is not the obvious twist one might expect. Madness does not play games with objective reality either, though at times one might wonder. Unquestionably though, it presents a darkly fatalistic vision of humanity. While D’Amato’s direction is about on-par with above average TV-movies, he makes shrewd use of the Motta Coquiero story to evoke a sense of ancient deceit that continues to haunt the present.

As Porto, Eduardo Moscovis is pretty intense and rather convincing acting crazy and acting with crazies. Of course, the supporting cast of mental patients are a colorfully diverse lot. While you might not hire the actors for your production of the Motta Coqueiro story, they are more or less adequate to the job in Madness. Milena Toscano in particularly, has some uncomfortably creepy moments as the nuthouse femme fatale.

Madness is a small film, yet it is surprisingly ambitious. A decent rental if not an instant classic, it is more memorable than at least half the films that wash in and out of art house theaters each week. It is now available on DVD from Pathfinder Entertainment.

Miyazaki’s Tales from Earthsea

Forget the Syfy (Sci-Fi) Channel’s Earthsea miniseries. Ursula K. Le Guin, the author of the Earthsea novels and stories, would certainly prefer you did. Her reaction to Gorō Miyazaki’s anime adaptation of her fantasy world has also been decidedly mixed, but not necessarily as vehement. In fact, Miyazaki’s film is not without merit, especially for those not intimately grounded in the Earthsea mythology. Three years after its Japanese premiere, Miyazaki’s Tales from Earthsea (trailer here), finally has its American theatrical release, courtesy of Walt Disney, opening today in New York.

While the legendary Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki long sought to adapt Le Guin’s Earthsea stories, it was his son Gorō, a relative new comer to animated filmmaking, who was assigned the project by Studio Ghibli, the anime house co-founded by Miyazaki the elder. The result is a visually striking, if thematically familiar, fantasy.

Like the epics of Tolkien and Robert Jordan, Tales follows a young protagonist of destiny, Arren, a confused prince who has apparently just murdered his father, the king. Fleeing in shame, he encounters the wizard Sparrowhawk on the road. Like his late father, Sparrowhawk is concerned about the chaos sweeping over Earthsea. The weather is unseasonable, crops are failing, livestock are dying, and two dragons were recently spotted off the coast fighting to the death, an unprecedented event in the Earthsea fantasy world.

Naturally, there is a Sauron-like evil overlord to contend with. In this case, it is the androgynous sorcerer Cob, whose slave-trading minions appear to be out to get Arren. Indeed, Tales follows the standard epic fantasy template, but does so reasonably well.

Miyazaki the younger is most successful creating an epic look in the film, employing watercolor backgrounds and hand-drawn animation. Indeed, his fantasy landscapes and cityscapes have an exotic beauty that elevates Tales well above standard issue anime.

Redubbed for an American audience (not an uncommon practice with anime distribution), the English language cast mostly ranges from adequate to fairly good. Timothy Dalton (the under-appreciated James Bond) is the class of the field, leading his commanding voice to Sparrowhawk. In contrast, Willem Dafoe’s work as Cob often sounds campy, in the wrong way.

The first Disney animated release to carry a PG-13 rating, Tales is similar in intensity (and subject matter) to Ralph Bakshi’s 1978 animated Lord of the Rings. Richly crafted but predictable (as is the case with most contemporary epic fantasy fiction), Tales is better than genre diehards might have heard at their conventions. It opens today (8/13) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

Grievance Cinema: Salt of this Sea

In a rare feat of self-governance, the “Palestinian Authority” has consistently submitted films for the Best Foreign Language Award, even snagging a nomination in 2005. Their 2008 submission was a bit of a surprise, since it somewhat forthrightly depicts the corrupt and arbitrary nature of life under the PA. After kicking around the festival circuit, including Tribeca last year, Annemarie Jacir’s Salt of this Sea (trailer here), finally launches its theatrical run today in New York.

Soraya is an American citizen, but her family roots are in the British Mandate. Deeply steeped in grievance politics, she travels to Ramallah, by way of Israel, hoping to connect with her heritage. Soraya also wants to recover the long frozen bank account her grandfather had originally opened during the era of the Mandate. However, the corrupt bank managers refuse to recognize her claim, naturally invoking Israel as a scapegoat. Actually, Israel has the most accessible court system in the world, but since this is the lawless PA, she is pretty much SOL. Rather than even bothering with legal options, Soraya opts to rob the bank with her new boyfriend Emad and his aspiring filmmaker buddy, Marwan.

Somehow they pull off the job with unloaded guns and high-tail it to safer territory. That of course would be Israel. With Soraya and friends on the lamb, living solely in the moment, SOTS veers into Breathless territory. Jacir nicely captures the unreal qualities of these moments of deceptive peace that clearly cannot last. Unfortunately, the film’s attempts to be politically provocative always fall flat. For instance, the security wall is often used as a backdrop, obviously intended as an ominous symbol. Yet, in actuality it has the innocuous look of a non-descript industrial park (again it is worth noting reports terrorism-related deaths fell by fifty percent since the wall’s construction).

There is no doubt the camera loves radical spoken word performer Suheir Hammad as Soraya. At times, she is an exciting screen presence, but has a tendency to over-act, eventually giving free reign to a petulant anger that seems misplaced even in the highly politicized context of the film. Saleh Bakri by contrast, is more credible and consistent as the easy-going but disillusioned Emad.

Frankly, this is a pretty silly film with no sense of perspective. That Soraya’s hair is mussed by airport security is treated like an epochal human rights violation, yet it has nothing whatsoever to say about the bloodthirsty terrorism of Hamas and their ilk. At times, SOTS is so overwrought, blaming Israel for suffering apparently caused by the PA within the very narrative of the film, one would almost suspect it is a Jerry Zucker spoof. Still, Jacir is an impressive visual stylist, nicely mixing gritty realism with some memorable imagery. However, SOTS is ultimately undermined by the same biases and resentments which plague its unbalanced protagonist. An attractive looking misfire, SOTS opens today (8/13) at the Quad.

Feeding Frenzy: Peepli Live

Technically, the Indian media appears to be slightly better than their American brethren. Though surely bottom-feeders, everything they report is at least technically the truth in a new Hindi satire. They simply have a reckless disregard for the consequences of their reporting in Anusha Rizvi’s Peepli Live (trailer here), the first Hindi film in competition at the Sundance Film Festival, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Natha is not much of a farmer, but his land is his family’s only means of support. Unfortunately, the state will soon assume his farm unless he can repay his debts. Though it sounds like an urban legend, like those straight A’s you reportedly get if your college roommate commits suicide, it turns out the Indian government will pay 100,000 rupees as compensation to the families of farmers who kill themselves. Not a princely sum, but it would still be sufficient to save the farm.

Out of options, Natha reluctantly agrees (with the strong encouragement of his supposedly loving brother Budhia). Peepli is a small village, so word quickly spreads of his desperate decision. Sensing a good sob story, an ambitious local reporter feeds it to a national network, and before you know it, the Indian media is camped out in front of Natha’s farm, like it’s the Neverland Ranch.

One would think all the attention would be good for Natha’s cause, but not so. True, the politicians get wind of it, but his case gets caught up in a conflict between the local minister and the national agricultural secretary, who are clearly aligned with opposing political parties. Frankly, none of this rings remotely true. Certainly, partisanship is intractable, but with so many television cameras pointed at them, one would expect the rivals to be outbidding each other in their attempts to save the stolid Natha.

Still, veteran Hindi actor Naseeruddin Shah is perfectly cast as Secretary Salim Kidwai, the old smoothie (check out Shah in the thoughtful terrorist drama A Wednesday, if you can find it). Malaika Shenov also projects the right levels of ruthlessness and self-absorption to be credible as journalist Nadita Mallik. However, Natha’s personal dramas are rather boring and uninvolving. Yes, the miserable farmer is supposed to be weak, an innocent babe unprepared for the media’s shameless manipulations. Yet, he still ought to occasional say or something interesting. Instead, he is just an unsubtle symbol of exploitation.

Peepli is essentially a one note film: the media and the government do not care about the common man. Once you get that, you’ve got the film. While there are a few nice supporting turns, the angry film is not particularly engaging. It does have a catchy Bollywood soundtrack though, with a number of pleasing songs from the jazz and folk influenced band Indian Ocean. It opens tomorrow (8/13) in New York at the AMC Empire and the Big Cinemas Manhattan (formerly the ImaginAsian).

La Soga: The Butcher’s Son

Everyone should have a skill, like butchery. “La Soga” kills people. Good enough. Don’t worry, he operates under strict government supervision—unofficially, of course. That is how things work in the D.R. in Josh Crook’s revenge drama, La Soga (a.k.a. The Butcher’s Son, trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Death as a profession runs in Luisito’s family. At a tender age, he learns how to butcher hogs from his father. However, when he witnesses the impulsive murder of his father by an ambitious street thug, it makes him a bit angry. Fortunately (or not), a shadowy general takes the orphan under his wing, grooming him to become a ruthless killing machine for his special projects.

It is supposed to work something like this. The American government deports hardcase felons back to the Dominican, at the behest of the good General Colon. Then La Soga and his team track them down, rousting them on a pretext. One way or another, they “resist arrest” offering La Soga the opportunity to terminate them permanently. While problematic from an ethical point of view, there is a pragmatic elegance to scheme, as long as it is guided by pure vigilantism.

However, when La Soga learns not only is the general is taking bribes to shield predators from their retribution, but is also in business with the man who killed his father, all bets are off. Too bad that puts a damper on his budding romance with Jenny, his recently returned childhood sweetheart, who seems a bit turned off by the sight of her prospective lover gunning people down on national television. Talk about fickle.

Aside from a spot of romance between Luisito and Jenny, La Soga is about as gritty as gritty gets. Though Crook and his producing partner brother Jeff are Brooklynites, the film has a vibe and texture not unlike many of the darkly naturalistic crime films that have recently come from Mexico (La Zona, Black Sheep, etc.) Of course, that is hardly surprising given the Dominican and Washington Heights roots of its star and screenwriter, Manny Perez, and its authentic locations on the D.R.

Though not a superman, Perez is all kinds of bad as La Soga. Frankly, he is convincing enough when seething for vengeance or laying-down a beating to earn a spot in the next Expendables movie. Though sometimes a bit awkward in her film debut, Denise Quiñones also exhibits a fresh, likable screen presence as Jenny. Unfortunately, General Colon is basically a cartoon villain, without any juicy scenery-chewing. Indeed, the political subplots border on the ludicrous, as Colon conspires with some nebbish American bureaucrat, who might as well be called the Assistant Secretary of State for Graft and Vigilante Killing.

Viewers should be warned, La Soga will give them a decent introductory course in butchery by the time it is over. While the lack of a strong villain is a drawback, Perez shows great promise as an action anti-hero. It also has a dynamic soundtrack from Aventura, a group known for fusing bachata (the so-called “Dominican blues”) with contemporary styles. Not revelatory but consistently interesting, La Soga opens this Friday (8/13) at the Village East.

Melbourne Goodfellas: Animal Kingdom

Yes, Joshua “J” Cody’s mom was a junkie, but her drug overdose death actually signals the end of his stable years. It is time for the teenager to meet his loving grandmother and stick-up men uncles. Indeed, there is a reason he has been kept away from the rest of the Cody clan in David Michôd’s Australian crime drama, Animal Kingdom (trailer here), the winner of the World Cinema Jury Prize at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival, which opens in New York this Friday.

As the film opens, J seems to be taking his mother’s death quite well. After coolly calling paramedics, he continues watching his cheesy game show. Not really knowing what else to do, he then calls his estranged grandmother, Janine “Smurf” Cody, who bundles her bland grandson up to live with her and her grown (sort of) sons.

Little older than J, Uncle Darren is something like a brother to the confused teen. The somewhat fatherly Barry (a.k.a. “Baz”) Brown is the smartest and steadiest of the pack. He is also growing uncomfortable with their chosen lined of work: armed robbery, with a growing interest in drugs. That is hardly the case for Uncle Craig, the drug-addled lunatic, or the most dangerous Cody brother, Uncle Pope, who has been forced into hiding by the Melbourne Police’s round-the-clock surveillance.

Far from glamorizing their lives of crime, Michôd creates a tackily garish world, where the family unit offers no meaningful protection. Eventually, the Codys explicitly turn on each other, with their Machiavellian matriarch setting the standard for cold-blooded ruthlessness.

Given its Joe Lunchbox portrayal of suburban crime, punctuated by moments of startling violence, Kingdom begs comparisons to Goodfellas. In truth, Jacki Weaver’s Mother Cody might be scarier than Joe Pesci (sorry Spider). However, the sullen J is no Henry Hill. Frankly, the dullness of its protagonist is Kingdom’s only substantial flaw.

Still, having two great movie villains in the same film is a rather notable accomplishment. It is debatable which is creepier, Weaver’s cold-blooded portrayal of Ma Smurf or Ben Mendelsohn’s chilling work as the flat-out psychopathic Pope. Joel Edgerton is also perfectly on-pitch as the hardnosed Baz. Oddly, the most recognizable cast member, Guy Pearce, is under-utilized as copper Nathan Leckie. It is not that he is bad in the film, he simply is not given much to do. However, James Frecheville is pretty much “eh” as J.

Overall though, Michôd has crafted an effectively grungy working class gangster epic. A better Aussie crime drama than the Edgerton’s The Square, Kingdom is all about its truly memorable villains. It opens this Friday (8/13) in New York at the Landmark Sunshine and Lincoln Plaza Cinemas.

On-Stage: Princes of Darkness

It makes sense Lucifer would have a spot in his heart for those famously dressed in black. He can also appreciate the wreckage Hamlet and Dracula left in their wakes. As for Oedipus, even if his wardrobe was not black, he certainly took a long, deep look into the heart of darkness. Your master of ceremonies, the Trickster himself channels all three literary denizens of the dark side in Princes of Darkness, the latest genre stage production directed by Rachel Klein, now running at the Theater for the New City as part of the Dream Up Festival.

It is an age old complaint: the world is in abject chaos and God let it all fall to seed. Ever the Devil, Lucifer suggests those mortals in the audience could do a better job running the universe. Vanity has always been one of the more effective deadly sins. To make his point, he introduces three men born to rule, but whose lives produced suffering rather than nobility. Frankly, he is mostly contemptuous of Hamlet and Oedipus. Indeed, it is hard to argue with the way things worked out for them. Still, Dracula seems to get a pass. After all, vampires are all the rage these days.

Clearly comfortable with evil personas, Bill Connington has already made a name for himself in the New York theater world with Zombie, a one person show based on Joyce Carol Oates Jeffrey Dahmer-inspired novella. As Lucifer and his three witnesses, Connington is a disturbing presence, weirdly ingratiating but viscerally menacing. Indeed, Klein’s “choreography” has an appropriately serpentine quality as he creeps, slithers, and shambles across the stage.

Connington’s text posits some intriguing connections between the four brooding figures from literature (of course counting Lucifer from his appearance in Milton). Yet somehow though, the parallels break down with Stoker’s Dracula. Perhaps, that is because he never had a comparable epic fall from grace.

Frankly, the creepiest aspect of Darkness might be Sean Gill’s unsettling audio effects and Connington's reverberating voice-over narration. Even though the audience safely in the New City, the Don-Pardo-from-Hell effect could be mistaken for some weird Brooklyn warehouse happening. The production’s big sound might even have become taxing, if it were not a manageable estimated fifty-five minutes.

Darkness is the sort of intimate but ironic genre theater Klein has a real touch for. Though it is a work heavy on text and narration, she keeps it chugging along briskly. In fact, it is a surprisingly intense theatrical experience, despite its brevity. Now open, it runs at the New City through Saturday (8/14).

(Photo: Beau Allulli)

The Baby Daddy Quest: The People I’ve Slept With

Instead of notches on a belt, Angela marks her conquests with home-made baseball cards. Yep, they come with statistics on the back. If you think her lifestyle is unsustainable, you would be correct. Indeed, when pregnancy catches her by surprise, she is consumed by the quest for her baby daddy in Quentin Lee’s The People I’ve Slept With (trailer here), the closing night selection of this year’s Asian American International Film Festival, which opens this Friday in New York.

Angela is attractive, but anybody seems to have a shock with her. Her carefree father and flamboyantly gay BFF, Gabriel Lugo, encourage her carpe diem behavior, as long as she uses protection. Unfortunately, there were these four times when one thing led to another, and now she’s preggers. Fortunately, she has her souvenir cards, a paper trail to follow.

Of course, each of the four candidates was an excruciatingly bad hook-up in his particular way. The one exception is Jefferson Lee, her semi-regular fling, a Republican city council candidate (good luck with that in LA) who can also cook. Naturally, her only issue with him is his politics. However, several issues complicate their budding relationship, not the least being the whole paternity thing.

Given the subject matter, Slept’s risqué scenes should not come as a huge shock. Whatever you’re thinking, the film probably goes there at least once. The sample collection scenes are a bit much though. Still, the film is due a measure of credit for having the courage of its convictions. Despite the attitudes of its characters, Slept also notably resists indulging in gratuitous Republican bashing. In fact, Lee emerges as just as human and flawed a character as everyone else in the film. Still, the family values of Slept are much more of the alternative than traditional variety. Yet, the entire film is about the consequences of Angela’s sleeping around, so maybe a smidgen of traditionalism would not kill her.

While the frequent “you go girl” kvetching between Angela and Lugo gets a bit old, her scenes with Lee are reasonably mature and convincing. Karin Anna Cheung is a fresh and energetic presence as Angela and Archie Kao (recognizable from the original CSI) brings an easy charm to Lee. However, the over-the-top supporting characters (Carlton Kim, the nice but boring stalker) weigh down the film.

Though the comedy of Slept is largely broad, it still offers a few laughs here and there. Essentially, it is a naughty trifle, but less explicit than one might suppose. Lightweight but harmless, it opens this Friday (8/13) at the Clearview Chelsea.

Pianos: The Four Hands of Yves Leveille and Eri Yamamoto

It is a small world, but evidently Arthur’s Tavern is at the center of it. Japanese pianist-composer Eri Yamamoto has a regular Thursday-Friday-Saturday night feature spot there, where the Quebecois Yves Léveillé once subbed for her during one of her many tours. When Léveillé invited Yamamoto back up to Montreal to play with his working group, the two pianists found they clicked together, even in unorthodox combos, including a two-piano trio with multi-reed virtuoso Paul McCandless. Yet their first recording together is an intimate piano duet, simply titled Pianos, now available from finer Canadian music retailers.

Although two piano sessions are not unprecedented, they offer a distinct challenge to both players. However, Léveillé and Yamamoto prove to be quite stylistically compatible and amenable to the give-and-take of four-handed playing. Rather than showy one-upmanship, they segue into each other quite pleasingly, as with the cascading runs of Léveillé’s darkly lyrical “Pour Ainsi Dire” that opens the set.

Inspired by nature, Yamamoto’s “Redwoods,” has a transcendent elegance that perfectly suits the cooperative spirit of the project. As it is technically Léveillé’s session, he supplies the majority (five out of eight) of the compositions. Yet, the intriguing melody and evolving dynamics of his “Zone Indigéne,” the longest track on Pianos, are not unlike those of Yamamoto’s compositions.

The two shortest selections of the session are solo improvisations from each pianist. Yamamoto’s swinging “Montreal Dance” delivers the most muscular bluesy playing to be heard on Pianos, whereas Léveillé’s “Recontre” might be its most delicate, deepest dip into the Bill Evans bag.

While there is indeed a moody pensive quality to much of the music they create, there is still a strong rhythmic component, driving it all along quite effectively, as Léveillé’s “Pantomime” nicely illustrates. It dramatically concludes with the striking beauty of Yamamoto’s composition “Color,” which was first recorded on her album of nearly the same name, Colors.

There is quite an eloquent conversation going on in Pianos, filled with warm and witty phrases. I’ve come to know Eri Yamamoto, writing profiles of her and her richly rewarding music and hearing her live at Arthur’s. While I have not met Léveillé yet, I suppose that’s why you have to keep coming to that West Village landmark—you never know who might turn up. While Pianos might take some searching for here in the lower forty-eight, it is definitely worth importing. It is a great example of the creative rapport between two passionate yet disciplined artists.

The Original Debt

Rachel Berner knows the ugly side of human nature. She has just finished a book tour, but it is the events covered in her memoir that brought her face to face with evil. Berner was part of a three agent Mossad team charged with capturing “The Surgeon of Birkenau,” a National Socialist war criminal clearly modeled on Mengele. Though they were supposedly forced to kill the doctor when he attempted to escape, they became national heroes for ultimately bringing the Surgeon to justice. However, we quickly discover there is something wrong with that official story in Assaf Bernstein’s The Debt (trailer here), which is now available on IFC’s Festival Direct and is being remade by John “Shakespeare in Love” Madden.

Berner has become a national icon in Israel, a veritable living Hannah Senesh. Yet, when mysterious reports surface of a senile patient in a Ukrainian nursing home claiming to be the notorious Surgeon, Max Rainer, she and her two colleagues take it deadly seriously. The straight-laced Zvi, for whom Berner once carried a torch, is now a wheelchair-bound senior intelligence official, so he will remain in Israel. She will rendezvous in Ukraine with the rakish Ehud, her consolation prize on that fateful mission, to secretly finish the job. As they case the sanatorium, a high security facility catering to old soviet military and intelligence officers (a place where Rainer evidently feels quite at ease), Bernstein flashes back to 1964, showing how it all went down.

The film certainly faults Berner and company for the problematic execution of their mission, but it never suggests they had the wrong man. Indeed, Rainer, played by Edgar Selge with icy menace, is stone-cold evil incarnate. As a result, Berner has a real karmic obligation to find the Surgeon and fulfill his premature obituaries.

The Debt is a well constructed thriller-morality play, but its scenes in 1964 pack the most punch. Though shot entirely in contemporary color, Giora Bejach’s gauzy cinematography gives it a fittingly period noir feel. Bernstein’s dynamic temporal transitions are also appealingly reminiscent of old fashioned movie suspensers. While the verbal sparring between the captors and the creepy prisoner is hardly new cinematic ground, Bernstein adds some intriguing wrinkles. As children of the Holocaust, it seems the Mossad trio might be more susceptible to Rainer’s prodding than the Nazis hunters of their parents’ generation, who had survived the horrors and therefore might be more immune to the taunts of their quarry.

In a shrewd bit of recasting, Helen Mirren is slated to play the older, memory-haunted Berner, taking over for Gila Almagor, a grand dame of Israeli Cinema. Sam “hit-me-with-a-stick-to-see-if-my-facial-expression-changes” Worthington is also attached, presumably for the role of young Zvi. Oddly though, both Ehuds (Oded Teomi the elder and Yehezkel Lazarov the younger) tend to steal their scenes in either timeframe, so good luck recasting them. In fact, one wonders how effective the new version will be without the sensibilities brought to the original film by its Israeli cast and crew.

Debt is a small but intense tragic-thriller that should find increased demand as the Madden version gears up for release. It is worth checking out. For now, IFC has strangely forgone theatrical distribution in favor of their on-demand program, despite its success on the festival circuit. Here in the City, it is also available for viewing at the Israel Film Center at the Manhattan JCC, but advance reservations are required.

Coney Island Story: Lucky Days

Virginia’s family is Russian, but she aspires to be Italian. Hers is a very Brooklyn story, but unfortunately her boyfriend is no fairy tale prince. At least she could still enjoy the roller coaster. Reportedly the last film shot at the old Astroland amusement park, Angelica and Tony Torn’s Lucky Days (trailer here) makes the most of its Coney Island location. Appropriately, it opens a one week run tonight at IndieScreen, Brooklyn’s newest venue for independent film.

Virginia is convinced her longtime boyfriend Vincent will soon pop the question. It is hard to understand why she has waited this long. Their relationship has been strictly no sex, just the occasional beating. Indeed, Virginia has taken a lot of abuse from both her family and Vincent’s. Yet she seems to be the only one responsible enough to hold down a steady job or do the household chores. She never really questions her life choices until a mysterious stranger from her past reappears.

Virginia has not seen Zeth (yes, even his name is quirky) in years, but there is no ignoring the electricity between them. While he is more free-spirited, he has serious issues of his own, like his brother J.C. (how about those initials) who is being fried to a crisp in the mental hospital where Virginia works. Will Virginia find happiness with Zeth or will she choose to remain a martyr? Whatever she decides, we can be sure it will be poignantly bittersweet.

Without a doubt, Angelica Torn is the major revelation of Lucky. Her powerhouse performance is both complex and dynamic. Yet, it comes in a film that is just all over the map. It is hard to tell if it is intended as an oddball indie comedy or a gritty domestic violence drama. It also seems to conflate ethnicity with eccentricity. Indeed, the constant screeching of Virginia’s family is embarrassing, for the wrong reasons. Still, the Torns (son and daughter of Rip Torn, who also appears in a small supporting role) undeniably ground the film in the Coney Island locale, fitting the Ferris wheel into nearly every other shot.

It is hard not to respect the honesty of Lucky, particularly the fearless work of Angelica Torn. While it is painfully well-intentioned, its uneven tone and some awkward supporting turns prevent it from landing the emotional knock-out punch. However, it is about as Brooklyn as a film can get, so if you’re going to see it, IndieScreen should be the place. Though tonight’s opening screening is sold out, it plays at the Williamsburg art-house through August 12.

Bollywood Courts Controversy: Tere Bin Laden

“Banned in Pakistan” sounds like a heck of recommendation for a film. Yet, in the case of Abhishek Sharma’s Tere Bin Laden (a bit of wordplay roughly translating to “Without Bin Laden”) it is hard to understand why they bothered. A mildly amusing satire, Tere tweaks the American response to the September 11th terrorist attacks far more than its Al-Qaeda mastermind, but evidently the Pakistani authorities feared any comedic representation of Bin Laden would be provocative. New Yorkers can judge for themselves tomorrow when Tere (trailer here) opens at the Manhattan Big Cinema.

In a bit of a departure for Bollywood, Tere is set in Pakistan and stars the Pakistani popstar Ali Zafar as Ali Hassan, an aspiring journalist who dreams of making it big in America. Unfortunately, his departure is delayed by the 9-11 terrorist attack. When his flight finally leaves, his odd behavior (possible only in a slapstick comedy, given the obviously tense circumstances) is misinterpreted as a hijacking attempt. As a result, Hassan is barred from America for life.

Our young protagonist perseveres though, toiling away at a low rent news station, trying to raise cash for a new set of identity papers. Covering a rooster crowing contest, Hassan spies a poultry breeder who is the spitting image of Bin Laden—okay, maybe that is a bit daring.

However, when the reporter bamboozles the eccentric Noora into making a counterfeit Bin Laden video, made up like his notorious double, the jokes really are not directed at Bin Laden, but primarily at his target, Hassan’s promised land of America. When the bogus tape hits the airwaves shortly thereafter the American military naturally starts carpet-bombing Afghanistan out of sheer panic. Frankly, this is the sort of satire you can find in any number of American films. Of course, the Bollywood musical numbers are a different story, the best being Zafar’s mellow groover, “Bus Ek Soch.”

Ironically, the most endearing character of Tere is the likably goofy faux Bin Laden, played by Pradhuman Singh, who shows a flare for physical comedy and chicken wrangling. Zafar, who reportedly was once held for ransom by self-described Bin Laden supporters, is also reasonably engaging as Hassan. One can also understand why he might be gun-shy with satirical material that cuts too close to the bone.

The outrageous positions Bin Laden’s double finds himself in (chasing chickens with a grenade super-glued to his hand, for instance) may well help bring the mass murder’s public image down to earth. If so, Tere could be a force for good. Still the Kumbaya ending, suggesting everyone can come together and works things out if America only reaches out to her enemies, is hardly an accurate reflection of the world as it is.

Ultimately, Tere plays it safe in choosing its targets. That it still found itself deemed “anti-Islam and anti-Pakistan,” with many censors apparently unable to distinguish between Bin Laden and a character clearly impersonating him within the context of the film, is probably more telling than anything in the film itself. For those intrigued by its backstory, Tere opens tomorrow (8/6) at the Big Manhattan (formerly ImaginAsian) Cinema.

Danish Neo-Nazis in Love: Brotherhood

For two Danish Neo-Nazis, the example of Ernst Röhm is only too telling. The leader of the SA, Röhm vocally championed National Socialism’s socialist roots. He was also homosexual, which supplied a handy pretext to purge him when Hitler decided his former friend and comrade was getting too popular. The point is not lost on Lars and Jimmy, two furtive lovers, whose relationship would not be well received by their hate group in Nicolo Donato’s Brotherhood (trailer here), which opens in New York this Friday.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell” might not be Danish military policy, but hitting on men under your command is definitely not acceptable. When his superiors learn Lars has done exactly that, instead of a promotion to staff sergeant, he is cashiered out of service. As result, he re-enters civilian life as a tall Aryan tower of resentment, ripe for recruitment by the local white power cell.

As a former military man, Lars has action cred with “Fatso,” the local recruiter and liaison to the upper party leadership. He greases the wheels for Lars’ meteoric rise within the local cell structure. Initially, this rankles Jimmy, a veteran skin-head activist. However, when Fatso manipulates them into rooming together, one thing leads to another and before you know it, Jimmy is one confused hate-monger.

Brotherhood is most insightful when depicting the ways extremist organizations recruit members, playing on their alienation and vulnerabilities. Indeed, on an intellectual level, Lars knows what a pack of losers his new friends are. He even says so directly, several times. Yet he still signs on, out of a sense of aggrieved disaffection.

The steep rise of anti-Semitism in Europe is a legitimate cause for alarm, but disturbingly, it gets scant mention in Brotherhood. Instead, the targets of Fatso’s cell are either closeted homosexuals or Muslim immigrants, who granted are not exactly skinhead favorites. Still, if gay Danish Neo-Nazi movies are reluctant to mention anti-Semitism, you can safely conclude Europe simply is not serious about addressing the problem.

Frankly, the story arc of Brotherhood is a bit problematic as well. Once Lars and Jimmy become a secret item, they start acting very stupidly. They should know better. After all, they know what happened to Röhm. Lars mentions it himself in an early scene, simply to make Fatso squirm. Rasmus Birch’s screenplay also ends on a weak note, not really concluding, but just petering out of steam.

To be fair, Thure Lindhardt certainly looks Aryan as Lars. His courtship scenes with the Swedish born David Dencik as Jimmy are also nicely turned. There is a visible tension there as they simultaneously embrace and push each other away. Of course, it is all headed pretty much where you think it is.

Those who expect boldness from gay Danish Neo-Nazi movies will probably be a little disappointed in Brotherhood, and not for its lack of explicitness (or maybe for that reason as well). It has some pointed moments, but overall the film is relatively simplistic. It opens this Friday (8/6) in New York at the Cinema Village.

Men at War: Lebanon

In 1982, the PLO massed their forces in southern Lebanon along Israel’s border, using it as staging ground for mortar barrages and terrorist operations. Much to the world’s feigned surprise, Israel eventually tired of the constant attacks, launching an incursion into her occupied Northern neighbor. The resulting conflict got messy quickly, as is graphically illustrated in Samuel Maoz’s Lebanon (trailer here), the winner of the 2009 Venice Film Festival’s Golden Lion, which opens this Friday in New York.

Depicting the hurry-up-and-wait realities of war for a four man tank crew, nearly every review compares the claustrophobic Lebanon to Das Boat, so let us dispense with that right from the top, as apt as it might be. Indeed, their iron shell is damp creaky beast, not nearly as reliable as a soldier driving into a combat zone would hope for. The crew, including their commander Assi, is also young and inexperienced. This mission will be their first taste of action, so it is probably inevitable they will make some mistakes.

Eventually, the tank crew rendezvouses with an infantry squad led by Jamil, a grizzled veteran. Though he dresses them down for their lack of professionalism, he still has a mission for them, involving shadowy falangists, Israel’s ostensive Lebanese Christian allies, and a captured Syrian. Of course, the Syrian is in for some rough treatment at the hands of the falangists, but the film ignores the rather obvious question of just why he was in Lebanon in the first place.

In truth, the Israeli film industry is much like Hollywood, always prepared to blame its own country first, while justifying the crimes of those bent on their own destruction. Fortunately, Lebanon is not nearly as ideological and revisionist as Waltz with Bashir. It is really a film about the fog of war, in which deadly errors are made not of malice, but uncertainty, fear, and inexperience. As a result, it is relatively easy to accept it as a war film, despite its clear editorial bias against the falangists in particular and the Israeli incursion in general.

The dank tank interior, designed by Ariel Roshko, is indeed an effective setting, using the confined space to ratchet up the tension. We hardly see any action outside its mechanized armor, except that spied through the sites of its guns. However, the four green crew members are largely indistinguishable from each other. The only actor really making any lasting impression is Zohar Strauss as the no-nonsense field commander Jamil. It is a gritty, wholly credible performance that also expresses the genuine concern officers have for the men under their command, even when they cannot let it show.

Lebanon evokes the chaos of battle quite well, but it ends a bit abruptly, not even concluding the skirmish in question, let alone the battle or the war. As a result, most viewers will be a bit confused leaving the film, wondering why Maoz went to all that effort just to get to that point. Purely as a war film though, it is very well produced, featuring a distinctive supporting turn from Strauss. Better than expected, Lebanon opens this Friday (8/6) in New York at the Landmark Sunshine.

On Tour with Leon Grieco: Mundo Alas

Latin American folk-rocker León Gieco might not be a household name in this country, but he has the clout to get personal projects close to his heart produced in his native Argentina. Take for instance his latest touring ensemble, consisting of largely heretofore unknown artists. In an ambitious paying-it-forward endeavor, Gieco recruited a band of physically and developmentally challenged musicians and dancers for a tour across Argentina recorded by Gieco and his co-directors Fernando Molnar and Sebastián Schindel in the documentary Mundo Alas (trailer here), which opens in New York this Friday.

Gieco seems like an approachable guy, and evidently a number of aspiring musicians with compelling circumstances have done so over the years. More than a good sport, Gieco brought a quite a few up on-stage with him over the years. What started as a series of one-offs became a formal concert and then a full-fledged tour, with documentary cameras duly in tow.

As Gieco assembles the tour and shepherds the musicians on the road, not a lot of drama unfolds on-screen. That was probably a very good thing for everyone’s sake at the time, but it does not add much spice to the film. Indeed, everyone seems to get along swimmingly together, concurrently developing as artists thanks to Gieco’s sensitive tutelage. It even ends with wedding bells for one couple, so it hardly appears to be a case of selective editing.

Fortunately, a number of the Mundo artists are quite promising musicians. Perhaps the most notable are Alejandro Davio, a blues influenced guitarist living with congenital hydrocephalus, and Carina Spina, a blind folksinger whose style is particularly compatible with that of Gieco. Indeed, their duets are quite memorable. Probably the most experienced Mundo musician is Francisco “Pancho” Chévez, a mouth harpist and vocalist born without extremities who has been laying it down in some rough looking road houses for years.

All of Mundo is achingly well intentioned, and to give credit where it is deserved, Gieco seems to have a natural understanding of how to encourage his protégés without sounding condescending. Still, there is something about the tour’s apparent lack of precedence in Argentina and its novelty attraction that gives one pause. After all, the fact that these musicians have talent should not be such a revelation (hello, remember Ray Charles and “Blind Willie” McTell, among others?).

Perhaps they are getting there. The musicians definitely express hopes that their Mundo experience will lead to more opportunities for them on the back end, and as the closing titles inform viewers, most have since recorded their own solo CDs. Good for them, because Gieco and company definitely showcase some genuine talent in their documentary.

There is indeed some very nice music in Mundo, if not a lot of surprises. While it might be about as manipulative as film can get, it certainly means well. It opens this Friday in New York at the AMC Empire 42nd Street, with Gieco performing live before the 8:15 screenings over the weekend (8/6-8/8). He also performs a full concert this Thursday (8/5) at the Queens Theatre in the Park.

Brief Encounters: Cairo Time

A mysterious city of great beauty and terrible ugliness, Cairo also has a rigid social system delineated by both gender and class. It is the sort of place where it helps to know someone with local knowledge. That is why a United Nations official asks his former colleague to look after his wife while he tends to a crisis. Both get more than they expected from their time together in Ruba Nadda’s Cairo Time (trailer here), the winner of the best Canadian feature award at the 2009 Toronto International Film Festival, which opens this Friday in New York.

Juliette often intended to meet her husband Mark in Cairo, but life always intervened. Now that she finally made it, he is held up at his riot-plagued refugee camp. Fortunately, his friend Tareq is willing to show her the sites, but not the pyramids. As a symbol of marital fidelity, Juliette scrupulously saves those for Mark. Not surprisingly, when the two mature but attractive adults meet, they quickly develop a flirtatious rapport. However, as Mark’s delays continue, their relationship deepens into something perilously close to romance.

Nadda’s story follows in the elegant tradition of David Lean’s Brief Encounter and other chaste cinematic affairs. These characters take commitment seriously, so they do not fall into other people’s arms lightly. Indeed, for Juliette, a trip to the pyramids with another man would constitute nearly as great a betrayal as an amorous assignation. It is that mature sensibility that makes Cairo such an engaging film.

Truly, the Egyptian city sparkles through Luc Montpellier’s lens, but Nadda has not penned a starry-eyed love letter. As Juliette learns first-hand, it can be a frightening place for women to walk the streets alone, even in broad daylight. There are also numerous places explicitly off limits to women, including Tareq’s coffee bar, but of course she knows the owner, so she has an ‘in.”

Patricia Clarkson and Alexander Siddig (best known as Dr. Bashir on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine) hit all the right notes as Juliette and Tareq. Their graceful chemistry make viewers want them to be together, though we know they ultimately never can. In a way, Cairo bears certain similarities to Lost in Translation, bestowing unexpected depth on a chance meeting, while maintaining a wistful vibe throughout. Yet unlike the annoyingly self-indulgent characters of Sophia Coppola’s film, Juliette and Tareq are self-aware, self-denying grown-ups. As a result, spending time with them is a quiet pleasure.

Nadda’s gentle rhythms and striking visuals make for a seductive cinematic blend. Never loud or crass, Cairo is an adult film, in the classiest sense. Warmly recommended, it opens this Friday (8/6) at the IFC Center.

Axis Face Defeat: Last Letters from Monte Rosa

It is 1945 and the war is obviously going badly for the Germans. It would be difficult to argue the contrary to a German platoon stationed on the frontline that now runs straight through Italy. Though the Italians are still ostensibly their allies, partisan forces have made the Italian countryside quite inhospitable for them in Ari Taub’s Last Letters from Monte Rosa (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Brooklyn.

Lieutenant Breukner’s troops are very near their breaking point. Food and supplies are running low, while the partisans’ deadly guerilla attacks continue unabated. He holds out hope that the promised Italian reinforcements will turn the tide against the partisans, allowing his men to concentrate their attention on the Americans. However, when Lieutenant Gianni’s Alpine platoon finally arrives, they are in little better condition than the German troops.

Reluctant to engage his countrymen, Gianni repeatedly clashes with Breukner, despite the clear respect they hold for each other. Frankly, both officers can see the writing on the wall, but Gianni is more inclined to accept it, while Breukner will fight the war through to the bitter end, as his sense of honor dictates.

Inspired by the discovery of undelivered final messages to loved ones penned by German and Italian troops serving in Northern Italy, Letters is a deliberate attempt to humanize the pawns of war. In a decision that might be controversial with some audiences, it only features Axis characters, aside from one American serviceman selling contraband wine to Rossini, the local gangster. Frankly, the early interludes involving Rossini do not seem to belong in Letters. However, when the boss and his henchmen are caught plundering the bodies of German war casualties, it crystallizes the soldiers’ struggle to maintain honor and dignity in the face of likely death. Indeed, their crime is an affront neither the German or Italian soldiers are willing to forgive.

Letters has a DIY vibe that is hard to describe but works better than one might expect. Shot mostly in the northeastern United States with a German and Italian cast speaking their native languages, it shares characters and entire scenes with Taub’s earlier film, The Fallen. He captures the chaos and confusion of war quite well, showing empathy for common grunts, impressed into a war not of their making. Obviously, portraying Nazi officers, even those of relatively low rank, is a delicate business. Taub steers well clear of any mention of the Holocaust or other National Socialist atrocities, which might indeed be necessary to tell his story as he intended, but leaves such issues conspicuous by their absence.

Still, Letters’ depiction of the national rivalries and class distinctions that still divide the Axis soldiers is rather effective. Amongst the European cast, Fabio Sartor and Thomas Pohn are both particularly good as the aristocratic officers, playing off each other nicely during their confrontations.

Ultimately, Letters is a modest but memorable war film with a genuinely humanist sensibility. It is definitely worth checking out for those hardy enough to venture out to Williamsburg, the home of IndieScreen, the newest venue for independent cinema in the County of Kings, where Letters opens this Friday (8/6).

Brit Thriller: The Disappearance of Alice Creed

Two average blokes at a big box hardware store might not appear sinister, but their shopping list is a bit suspicious. How much soundproofing material do regular folks really need? So begins J Blakeson’s dark little kidnapping thriller, The Disappearance of Alice Creed (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Alice Creed is estranged from her wealthy father, but since she is his only child, Vic and Danny are sure he will pay up. Vic is definitely the senior partner, calling the shots and dominating the younger man. It was Danny though, who suggested Creed as their potential victim. Despite their meticulous plans, the uncooperative Creed is a destabilizing presence in their midst. Naturally, in this taut three-hander, everyone has their secrets. Just who exactly is playing who, will be revealed in a series of revelations and betrayals that are surprisingly engaging.

Indeed, the twists and turns of the set-up are quite well executed and while the final act proceeds as it logically must, Blakeson effectively maintains the intensity as the film plays out the string. Fortunately, he is aided tremendously by the small but talented cast. Though she has been relatively good in awful movies (St. Trinian’s for example and the disappointing Clash of the Titans reboot), former Bond girl Gemma Arterton is surprisingly compelling as Creed. Her reactions are always utterly convincing and logical, regardless of the film’s convoluted circumstances, which is why it works so well as a thriller.

Perhaps even more unexpectedly, Eddie Marsan (recognizable from Sherlock Holmes, Red Riding, and a host of other films) turns out to be a great big-screen heavy as Vic. Indeed, he has that menacing charisma all memorable movie villains must have. The weak link would therefore be Martin Compston as Danny, but that is largely a function of his character’s submissive nature.

Though it only features three characters largely confined to a handful of claustrophobic sets, Disappearance never feels stagey. Rather, its economy concentrates the dramatic tension. Cinematographer Philipp Blaumbach gives it all a slick, cinematic look that also really distinguishes the film from workaday indie thrillers.

Nicely twisted, Blakeson’s story definitely gets nasty, but never to an extent that would ruin the fun. Nodding to other classic thrillers in ways that would be spoilers to reveal, Disappearance is a solidly entertaining British noir. It opens this Friday (8/6) at the Village East.

The Girl vs. the Mafia: Amenta’s Sicilian Girl

Teen-aged girls are supposed to be moody and argue with their families, but seventeen year-old Rita Atria never had a chance for domestic happiness. After her uncle murdered her father to assume sole control of their mafia clan, a desire for revenge consumed her. Yet, in pursuit of vengeance, Atria became a unifying symbol of courage and justice for Sicilians, who now reverently honor her memory. While altering her name to Mancuso and simplifying the historical record somewhat, for dramatic and legal reasons, it is indeed Atria’s story Marco Amenta tells in the new mafia drama The Sicilian Girl (trailer here), which opens this Wednesday at Film Forum.

Rita Mancuso is the apple of her father Don Michele’s eye, but even as a little girl, she bitterly clashed with her mother. As a result, when Don Michele is assassinated by her uncle Don Salvo Rimi, her family life becomes distinctly unpleasant. However, she has an ally in her brother Carmelo, an up-and-coming mafia soldier, who shares her desire for retribution, but counsels patience. Unfortunately, when Rimi also eliminates Carmelo, Mancuso loses all that remains of her family support system. With nothing left to lose, she does the unthinkable, approaching an anti-mafia magistrate based on the late Paolo Borsellino who is hailed as a hero across Italy for his organized crime prosecutions.

Girl is grand tragedy, but it is also a very direct and personal story of a young woman forced by circumstances to mature awfully quickly. Its themes of family, betrayal, sacrifice, and justice are quite universal and accessible. In fact, it sharply dispels any lingering notions of the mafia’s alleged family values. Indeed, the only figure in the film that seems to be honoring their familial commitments is the magistrate.

A tricky film to cast in Italy, Girl features a relative newcomer as Mancuso and a veteran French actor as the magistrate. In a star-making turn, Veronica D’Agostino is riveting as Mancuso, perfectly balancing her gritty toughness and the tender vulnerability of her age and circumstances. Yet, it is Gérard Jugnot who really provides the film’s heart and conscience. His understated performance presents the magistrate not as a crusader or a prospective hero, but an honest workaday public servant, trying to do his job.

In a way, Girl is a refreshingly old-fashioned film, presenting fact-based drama without intellectual gamesmanship or irony. Still, Amenta realistically grounds the film in its Sicilian setting, shooting on location in Palermo and Palazzo Adriano (though he found it advisable to avoid Atria’s village of Partanna, for obvious reasons). He even drew a number of supporting cast members from the Sicilian shadow world, including at least one member reportedly considering a career with the mafia.

Atria/Mancuso’s story is sad and infuriating, yet ultimately heroic. Far more emotionally engaging than Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah, the sensitive Girl is one of the most satisfying organized crime films to be released in years. It opens this Wednesday (8/4) in New York at Film Forum.

Erik Friedlander’s Birthday Single: Aching Sarah

It’s been real compact discs, but it’s pretty much over. Jazz and experimental cellist Erik Friedlander has already moved on. His last project debuted on vinyl in Europe, with an American digital release to come in the future. Now he has released a digital download only single Aching Sarah, which is for sale at on-line retailers and is currently available for free on his website in celebration of the musician’s fiftieth birthday.

Virtuously versatile, Friedlander largely made his name in “downtown” sessions with the likes of John Zorn and Dave Douglas. Yet his Broken Arm Trio is a swinging combo inspired by Oscar Pettiford, the bassist who became jazz’s preeminent cellist after suffering that fateful broken limb. Friedlander has also lent his cello to recordings by popular artists like Idol alumni Kelly Clarkson and Clay Aiken, as well as the difficult to classify Yoko Ono. It was while playing on her latest album that the cellist met trumpeter Michael Leonhart, whom Friedlander prominently features on Aching.

According to Friedlander, Aching is part of his “Cutting-Room Floor” series of compositions written for characters cut from films, existing only in the cellist’s music. As one would expect, it has a distinctly cinematic character, evoking the dreamlike atmosphere of the ethereal Sarah. Perfectly suited Leonhart’s warm tone, the vibe of Aching is not unlike that of Tomasz Stanko’s sessions with and inspired by his mentor Krzysztof Komeda, the great Polish film composer.

Even though it is Friedlander’s session, Leonhart’s trumpet is far more prominent than the leader’s cello. Yet, Friedlander’s sensitive accompaniment and eerie electronic programming give the track a strange but effective texture. It is in fact a rather notable example of how electronics can enhance a session, without overwhelming the musicians.

Aching is a sophisticated, insinuating musical statement that should appeal to a surprisingly broad spectrum of jazz listeners. The prize is right too, while Friedlander celebrates the big five-o. An intriguing piece to review, Aching probably portends more single reviews to come as the music business slowly and reluctantly adapts to new market realities. Regardless, it is a distinctive track, well worth downloading.

(Photo: Roland Rossbacher)