American Hero: With Great Power Comes No Responsibility

You’ll notice nobody is calling Melvin “the greatest,” or even relatively good. Frankly, on a lot of days the “hero” part is a bit of a stretch. Unlike Ralph Hinckley, he lacks a steady job, but he had plenty of vices. However, he has largely mastered his powers, but how he uses them is a constant source of frustration for his friends and family in screenwriter-director Nick Love’s American Hero (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Melvin drinks, inhales drugs, sleeps around, and moves large objects with the power of his mind, such as it is. He is currently barred from seeing his son, pending a psych evaluation. This bothers Melvin, but not enough to make him clean up his act. That in turn bothers his wheelchair bound best friend Lucille—he’s a he, who suffered a spinal injury during the first Gulf War. A documentary crew is following Melvin, but it isn’t pretty. Since he is being filmed and all, maybe he will finally get his wake up call and resolve to put his telekinetic powers to use on behalf of Katrina-distressed New Orleans neighborhood. Or not.

Considering how much juvenile behavior it depicts, Hero is a remarkably sober and mature film. Acting like an Animal House reject just isn’t cute anymore for the people surrounding Melvin. Love is astute enough to understand that it is not funny. It’s sad. For a scruffy independent production, the special effects are also uncommonly polished and professional grade. The film also has a strong sense of place, capturing the look and rhythm of NOLA life in the outer wards.

Looking like a lifelong stranger to Schick and Gillette, Stephen Dorff is so charismatically disreputable, he maintains audience sympathy even at his most hedonistic nadir. He looks comfortable with the action sequences, but fully taps into Melvin’s pathos. Eddie Griffin is also dramatically less annoying as Melvin than his typical screen appearances. That is not to say he does not induce plenty of cringing, just not to his usual extent. Regardless, they forge some not bad buddy chemistry together.

Love happens to be British, but he has a fine eye and ear for local color. Years ago, the only way superhero movies could be credible was as small scale character studies, like Greatest American Hero or Hero at Large. American Hero feels like a refreshing return to that tradition. It is a nice little film that is affectionately recommended for superhero fans when it opens this Friday (12/11) at the Village East in New York and the Zeitgeist Arts Center in New Orleans.

Indigenous: Beware the Chupacadra

There is a good reason why the Pan-American Highway has yet to penetrate the Darien Gap. For years, it has been a base of operations for the brutal Marxist FARC guerillas, who have kidnapped and murdered many hikers that unwisely ventured inside. Frankly, a group of hard partying American tourists is probably lucky to encounter the mythical Chupacadra instead in Alastair Orr’s Indigenous (trailer here), which releases today on VOD.

Scott Williams and his hot new girlfriend Steph Logan are meeting up with his three hedonistic friends for some fun in the Panamanian sun. Trevor, the really annoying one, starts putting the moves on local bombshell Carmen, who thinks it would be great fun to check out the waterfall she used to enjoy swimming under, until the government declared the Darien Gap off limits. Her ambiguously platonic friend Julio makes her promise not to take the gringos there, but she does anyway. Chupacabra attacks ensue.

There is no point in beating around the bush. Indigenous is basically a cornball monster movie, but it is exactly the sort of half disreputable creature feature seriously cult film connoisseurs periodically crave. It starts out promising, with a lot of cutting dialogue and plenty of eye candy (from both the bikini babes and surfer dudes). According to the press notes, Laura Penuela, who plays Carmen, was anointed “Best Body” in the 2009 Miss Colombia pageant, so obviously she was cast for her guitar-playing talent.

The problem is when the Chupacadra attacks, the film is so dark in a visual sense, it is almost impossible to follow the on-screen action. Granted, horror movies are usually scarier when you can’t see the evil antagonist, but in this case we are supposed to, but we still can’t. The character of Julio also becomes laughable ineffectual, as he spends most of the second half driving around aimlessly, while leaving pointless voice messages for assorted characters.

However, the creature make-up is pretty good, at least when we get to see it. As for the ensemble led by the bland Zachary Soetenga and recognizable TV regular Lindsey McKeon (One Tree Hill, Supernatural), they are certainly all quite fit. Several also have a knack for snarky attitude, which is more than you might expect.

Indigenous is a mediocre film at best, but if that is perversely attractive to you, then definitely have at it, as long as we all understand where we are coming from. This is just the sort of teasingly chaste, occasionally gory exploitation film that never goes out of fashion. For those of you who know who you are, Indigenous releases today on VOD.

AFI’s EU Showcase ’15: The Fencer

Upper body strength means little in fencing. It is all about the legs. Lunging and retreating are key to the sport, or as Endel Nelis puts it: “controlling the distance between you and your opponent.” Those instincts have also served him well as a fugitive from Stalin’s secret police. He has come to Haapsalu, Estonia, because the provincial town is the perfect place to lay low. However, his fencing classes attract dangerous attention in Klaus Härö’s biographical drama, The Fencer (trailer here), Finland’s official foreign language Oscar submission, which screens as part of the AFI’s 2015 EU Film Showcase.

The school principal is the sort of petty apparatchik who resents any form of talent or accomplishment. Naturally, he takes an instinctive dislike to Nelis, the new physical education teacher from sophisticated St. Petersburg (or Leningrad as a Party hack might call it). Nelis has no intention of rocking the boat or standing out in any way. He is working under an assumed name, hoping to avoid capture and exile to Siberia. Against his will, Nelis was pressed into service by the German Army. He managed to avoid combat by deserting into the forest, but he has still been declared an enemy of the people.

Naturally, Nelis is required to voluntarily manage an athletic club, but the principal refuses to allot him any resources. However, when he starts giving fencing lessons with mere switches cut from trees, many students are intrigued. Of course, the principal thinks little of this “feudal” sport, but parental support temporarily ties his hands. While Principal Skinneruu plots against him, Nelis prepares to take a small team to compete in an all-Soviet open invitational.

Based on a real historical figure, The Fencer ought to be catnip for Oscar voters. Like Mr. Holland’s Opus with fencing foils, crossed with The Lives of Others, Härö and screenwriter Anna Heinämaa tell the true story of an initially cold and standoffish teacher, who comes to care about his students as they deal with some pretty extreme challenges, like the arrest and exile of family members. It is not a dramatic conversion, but a subtle evolution of character that Märt Avandi plays with great strength and nuance. He also develops terrific chemistry with Joonas Koff and Liisa Koppel as his two star pupils, both of whom have “missing” fathers.

There are a number of scenes that could have been embarrassingly cheesy and saccharine, but at each potential pitfall, Härö reins in the film, going for a quietly stoic Baltic moment instead. As a result, he truly earns the comparatively sentimental closing. It is also impressive how much attention was given to proper fencing technique. They really are doing it right.

Throughout the film, Härö vividly captures a sense of the late Stalinist era paranoia, as well as the drabness of Soviet life in general. It is also engaging on a human level. These are reserved people, but when they make a connection, it is meaningful. Very highly recommended, especially for Academy members, The Fencer screens this Thursday (12/10) as part of the AFI’s EU Film Showcase.

ADIFF ’15: Let the Music Talk

Alex Pascall was sort of the Gil Noble of London. He is widely credited with establishing a voice for Britain’s West Indian community on mainstream radio and television. As one of the founders of the Notting Hill Carnival, he had a clear affinity for music. Pascall surveys the diverse black British musical scene in one of his best known broadcasts when he served as the host of Yvonne Deutschmann’s Let the Music Talk, which screens during the 2015 African Diaspora International Film Festival in NewYork.

Appropriately, Let starts with what could be considered day one of British calypso history when Lord Kitchener arrived on the HMT Empire Windrush (a British war trophy confiscated from Germany), improvising a performance of “London is the Place for Me” for Pathé News. American audiences might be surprised by the considerable time then afforded to British gospel music, but it clearly provided similar inspiration and fortification for many devout British immigrants. Deutschmann and Pascall also a good deal of spend time with the traditional Masqueraders, the Grenada Shortknee Band, who actually sound better in their rehearsal segment than during their full dress performance.

There are additional performances by the funky soul band The Real Thing, the other chart-topping quartet from Liverpool, representing the Mersey Sound and Eddy Grant, a year before he released his biggest hit, “Electric Avenue.” However, the coolest part of the film is the in-studio interview and performance with Coleridge Goode, the revered free form jazz bassist who played on seminal Joe Harriott and Michael Garrick sessions.

While it clocks in just under an hour (as you would expect of a 1981 BBC one-shot TV doc), it features some wildly groovy, catchy up-tempo performances. It is also impressive how “undated” Let feels, aside from its 1981 production values. It is a significant television music broadcast most Americans have never seen, so any fan of two or three of the assembled genres (reggae, calypso, funk, gospel) should definitely check out Let the Music Talk when it screens this Thursday (12/10) at the Bow Tie Chelsea as part of the special Black British theme program (which also includes the highly entertaining fest favorite The Story of Lover’s Rock) at this year’s ADIFF.

ADIFF ’15: Hear Me Move

It is like a South African Step Up film, but its moves combine hip hop dancing and sbujwa. That would be the latest form of South African street dancing, as of about a year ago. It evolved out of pantsula, the relatively old school style that Muzi’s late, disgraced father made his international reputation dancing. Spikiri toured America, but his involvement with drugs killed the legendary dancer shortly after his return. As a result, the high school student promised his domineering mother he would never dance like his father. However, Muzi has his father’s feet and they will not be denied indefinitely in Scottnes L. Smith’s Hear Me Move (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 African Diaspora International Film Festival in New York.

Muzi knows he is a dancer but he has never joined a crew, out of deference to his mother. As a solo performer, opportunities are limited, but he still has to deal with the challenges that come from being Spikiri’s son. However, his father’s old promoter “Shoes” recognizes his potential, inviting his to join the crew he manages, Sbujwa Nation. This does not sit well with some members, particularly their featured dancer Prince. In fact, Prince will soon leave to form his own upstart crew, Ambition.

As Muzi struggles to adapt to the demands of ensemble dancing, Shoes starts to level with him. There is indeed a reason why Prince so resents him. He is the illegitimate son Spikiri never acknowledged. Revelations like that mess with Muzi’s head, but Khanyi helps keep him sort of grounded. She might even be a potential romantic interest if Muzi can get his act together, but that is going to take a bit of time.

As dance movies go, Fidel Namisi’s screenplay makes Make Your Move and Born to Dance look like they were written by Paddy Chayefsky. Seriously, the business with old man Spikiri is just eye-rollingly melodramatic. However, the dancing is suitably dynamic and often very well framed by Smith, who almost always shows us the entire crew in full frame rather than self-defeating close-ups.

The cast is also appealingly young and energetic, particularly Bontle Modiselle, who makes a credible bid for movie stardom as the down-to-earth Khanyi. Mbuso Kgarebe also has the right sort of dangerous charisma for Prince, but the Nyaniso Dzedze just sort of survives as the excessively angst-ridden Muzi.

There is no denying the attractiveness of Hear Me Move’s cast and routines, but the Sbujwa-hip hop synthesis are not as distinctive as the wildly cool taiko drumming fusions choreographed by the awesome Yako Miyamoto for Make Your Move. Still, it has enough of a local spin to appeal to those who appreciate South African street dancing. Honestly, it is rather fun in a slightly cheesy way. Recommended accordingly for dance movie fans, Hear Me Move screens this Wednesday (12/9) at the Bow Tie Chelsea and Friday (12/11) at the MIST Harlem, as part of the special focus on South African cinema at this year’s ADIFF.

Making Waves ’15: Trading Germans

Romanian Germans have a long and complex history with their homeland that continues to evolve even to this day. Indeed, the fact that Romanian President Klaus Iohannis is a Transylvanian Saxon is quite significant. There used to be many more Saxon, Swabian, Zipser, and Bukovina Germans in Romanian but the 1945 Soviet expulsion of all able bodied ethnic German men took a brutal toll. Those who were left faced a difficult time of during the Communist era, but the Federal Republic of Germany did not abandon them. Răzvan Georgescu reveals the extent and legacy of the secret deal struck by the FRG and Ceauşescu in Trading Germans (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 edition of Making Waves: New Romanian Cinema.

During the hottest years of the Cold War, West Germany traded hard currency in exchange for the immigration of almost a quarter of a million Romanian Germans. It was a long term operation, spanning the years of 1968-1989. During throughout that period, Heinz-Günther Hüsch served as the primary German negotiator, even before his election to the Bundestag (as a member of the CDU). He ran an incredibly efficient operation, at least until Helmut Schmidt got involved and re-negotiated less favorable terms for West Germany.

Thanks to Hüsch and Romania’s unquenchable demand for hard currency (fueled by Ceauşescu’s corruption), a steady stream of Romanian Germans were allowed to leave the Socialist paradise. Apparently, they assimilated quite well in West Germany, in part because they spoke perfect German. Unlike the rest of the Soviet Bloc, Romania never curtailed their German language fluency and usage. However, they still feel profound sense of separation from their homeland. The Saxons particularly seem to have a deep agrarian connection to their ancestral land—most of which now lies fallow.

Hüsch and his chief Romanian counterpart Stelian Octavian Andronic offer some vivid memories and sly commentary on their extended pow-wows. Yet, some of the best insights regarding the nature of freedom come from Romanian German Karl Hann and Hansi Schmidt (formerly a star player for the Romanian national handball team).

There are some rather misleading descriptions of this film online that make it sound like a human trafficking documentary. As far we can tell from the HBO Europe produced doc, everyone whose passage the FRG purchased wanted to leave, albeit reluctantly. In fact, the Communist authorities often double-collected, charging the immigrants exorbitant passport fees, unbeknownst to Hüsch. Yes, they are sad to be estranged from their homeland, but the regime had already stripped them of their beloved land and their way of life. Frankly, it is a relatively feel-good Cold War story, told with sensitivity and telling details. Highly recommended, Trading Germans screens tomorrow night (12/7) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s Making Waves: New Romanian Cinema.

Making Waves ’15: Why Me?

According to the postscript, during the years of 2006-2012, “23 members of parliament, 15 government ministers, and over 100 mayors and 50 magistrates” were sent up the river in Romania, which constitutes remarkably clean governance here in New York and New Jersey. However, the underlying system of corruption deeply troubled former prosecutor Cristian Panait. That would be the late Cristian Panait. The controversies surrounding Panait’s untimely demise are transparently fictionalized in Tudor Giurgiu’s Why Me? (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 edition of Making Waves: New Romanian Cinema.

Initially, Cristian Panduru is the fast-tracked golden boy in the state prosecutors’ office, specializing in government corruption cases. He already has plenty to keep him busy, but the prosecution of Bogdan Leca, a notoriously crooked prosecutor from a neighboring jurisdiction could decisively make Panduru’s reputation. Unfortunately, when Panduru tries to execute a search warrant, the crafty Leca runs circles around him. Nevertheless, Panduru’s superiors still file charges against Leca, despite his inability to turn up anything incriminating. Panduru quickly realizes the fix is in and he will be the designated fall guy, if needed.

Under pressure to convict Leca, Panait secretly shifts the focus of his investigation. Before long, he suspects the shadowy involvement of Romania’s SRI, the post-Revolutionary incarnation of the dreaded Securitate, one of seven government intelligence service then active in the country. The more he sleuths out, the greater the pressure Panduru’s superiors exert trying to bring him back in line. It will get ugly.

By the standards of the Romanian New Wave aesthetic movement, Why Me is a barn burner of a thriller. However, viewers who do not have a few recent Romanian films under their belt will need time to acclimate to its severely icy vibe. Still, there is no missing its rampant (but apparently justified) paranoia. Rather pleasantly surprisingly, Why Me is way more closely akin to cynical 1970s conspiracy thrillers like The Conversation than anyone who has soldiered through films like Aurora and The Death of Mr. Lazarescu will ever dare to hope.

In all honesty, Emilian Oprea’s Panduru is so tightly wound and uptight, it practically hurts to watch him walk. It is a quiet, but bitterly compelling performance that takes on legitimately tragic dimensions. As his direct superior, Prosecutor Codrea, Mihai Constantin truly personifies bureaucratic villainy. Alin Florea adds plenty of acerbic élan as the more-formidable-than-he-looks Leca. On the other hand, Panduru’s girlfriend and dodgy colleagues are mostly unremarkable stock characters.

Why Me gives viewers a comprehensive sense of how tricky post-Communist politics, economics, and jurisprudence have been in Romania, in large measure thanks to the Securitate veterans who just carried on as usual in the SRI. Giurgiu never dumbs it down, as he methodically peels back layer after layer of the corrupt onion. It is a challenging film that might be a tad longer than necessary (131 minutes, really?), but maintains a moody, trust-no-one vibe throughout. Recommended for those who appreciate rigorous fact-based political thrillers, Why Me? screens tonight (12/5) and Monday afternoon (12/7) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s Making Waves: New Romanian Cinema.

Chaplains: Men and Women of the Cloth and the Uniform

They are part of the corps, but they answer to a higher power. Chaplains necessarily navigate tricky positions in the institutional sphere, but their efforts inspire trust. As a result, their inspirational work is often inspiring—even to non-believers. Martin Doblmeier surveys the breadth of contemporary chaplaincy in the two-part, two-hour documentary Chaplains (trailer here), which premieres this Monday on PBS WORLD.

When you hear “chaplains,” most people think military, prisons, and hospitals. Doblmeier has them covered, but he also includes a wider range of chaplains, including the relatively new but growing corporate chaplaincy. However, he starts with the classic military chaplain service, focusing on Rev. Paul Hurley, the senior chaplain serving in the Afghanistan theater of operations. A Catholic priest and U.S. Army colonel, Hurley oversees the rest of the chaplains attached to the U.S. military. It dangerous duty, because they face the possibility of suicide bombers and other hazards, just like the soldiers they minister to. Of course, military chaplains have their own unique moral challenges, but Rev. Hurley has no trouble explaining how the Afghanistan conflict conforms to the Catholic Just War theory. However, he hastens to add it is not for him to decide whether it is worth fighting from a political-strategic perspective.

Frankly, the military segment is probably the high point of Chaplains, but there is still plenty of informative material to come, such as the extent of Tyson’s Foods’ commitment to corporate chaplaincy. At the time of filming, they had one hundred and twenty full and part-time chaplains on staff. You can save the jokes about giving all those chickens their last rites, because the Tyson chaplains address that issue head-on. They admit the realities of the poultry business can be difficult, which is something they try to help employees deal with.

The hospital segment captures the nobility of faith in action, but it largely fits our positive preconceptions of what chaplaincy is all about. Likewise, the prison segment is certainly well intentioned, but the sight of a prison Wiccan service could bring out a fit of rightwing snark from Michael Moore.

On the other hand, the sequences following Billy Mauldin and the Motor Racing Outreach as the minister to the drivers, pit crews, and fans following the NASCAR circuit are a fascinating and respectful exploration of the large and growing subculture. Yet, probably the most charismatic chaplain is Rabbi Arthur Rosenberg of the Motion Picture and Television Fund’s retirement home and health services, but he ought to be, considering he was once an actor himself. (He was Kevin Bacon’s uncle in Footloose, so he is only six degrees removed from everyone else in Hollywood).

There is lot more to chaplaincy than most viewers probably realized, but there is also the selfless commitment you would hope for, as well as considerable professional training in many cases. Although Doblmeier starts to repeat himself late in the second half, most mainstream audiences will find it highly rewarding. It is also represents unusually faith-friendly programming from PBS, which should be encouraged. Insightful and sometimes quite moving, Chaplains airs this Monday (12/7) on PBS WORLD.

Obayashi at the Japan Society: Reason

It was a multiple murder New Yorkers can well understand. It directly involved the struggle to buy and keep possession of an under-valued luxury condo. However, darker, more passionate motives also contributed to the deaths of four unrelated people in unit 2025. Eventually, an intrepid writer will mostly reveal the truth in Nobuhiko Obayashi richly complex mystery Reason (a.k.a. The Motive), which screens during the Japan Society’s Obayashi retrospective.

As the super explains during his many interviews, the unit in question always had high turnover. On the night in question, they assumed the rather unsociable Koito family were the victims, but they had secretly moved out. Suspicion therefore focused on Naozumi Ishida, who had purchased the condo through a repossession auction. We know from the in media res opening, the weary Ishida will eventually turn himself into the authorities. At his request, Nobuko Katakura, the daughter of the innkeepers reluctantly hosting the fugitive will bring the disbelieving local copper.

Throughout her investigation, the journalist will piece together a deliciously complicated story, enveloping the Koitos, the Ishidas, several sets of neighbors, and even the Katakuras. Of course, there are four dead bodies to explain: one who fell from the balcony of number 2025 and three others found brutally murdered within. Yet, aside from the crime scene, there is no obvious link between the apparent strangers. This is all quite disturbing to the residents of the two-tower complex, but despite his own family’s growing notoriety, young Shinji Koito is inexplicably drawn back to his former home.

Reason is a wonderful rich and methodical film that takes its time to build a remarkably full picture of residents and the people in their orbits. Although rarely seen, Yuri Nakae selflessly holds the film together as the journalist, much like William Alland in Citizen Kane, except she actually gets the answers she is looking for. Reason probably has thirty or forty meaty roles, each of which is memorably executed. Terashima Saki is terrific as the empathic Nobuko Katakura and Ayumi Ito is desperately haunting as Ayako Takarai, a mysterious teenaged mother who eventually crosses paths with Ishida and company. However, Ittoku Kishibe really provides the film its reflective soul as the building super, who is constantly re-interviewed to give us more context.

Obayashi and Shirȏ Ishimori’s adaptation of Miyuki Miyabe’s novel gives us enough answers to satisfy according to mystery genre standards, but leaves enough messy loose ends to remind us truth is problematic in an era of uncertainty. The story also takes a cautiously metaphysical twist in its closing sequences, wholly in keeping with Obayashi’s oeuvre. In many ways Reason is a dark film, but it is just a joy to watch him construct layer on top of layer. It is also a good value for you ticket dollar, considers it runs a full one hundred and sixty minutes. Cineastes and mystery fans of all stripes who will be in New York this weekend should make every effort necessary to see Reason when it screens this Sunday (12/6) as part of the Obayashi retrospective at the Japan Society.

Dementia: The Aging Psycho Vietnam Vet

The Vietnam War ended forty years ago, but politically correct filmmakers still can’t let it go. At this point, Vietnam veterans are looking to retire and enjoy their golden years. Yet, even as senior citizens, they still have exploitation films coming out of the woodwork to suggest they were really just baby killers all along. Following in the unfortunate tradition of shlock like Motorpsychos and The Ravager, Mike Testin’s offensive Dementia piles it on when it opens tonight at the IFC Center.

George Lockhart was a decorated POW during Vietnam, so obviously he must be kind of nuts. For years he has lived alone in the home that he built, sort of like Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino, but with a blacker soul. However, when he suffers a stroke, Lockhart’s estranged son and the granddaughter he hardly knows arrive to do their duty. For her part, Shelby would sort of like to get to know the old cuss, but Jerry Lockhart can hardly wait to leave. However, when Michelle the friendly RN comes to check on the recuperating Lockhart (seriously, a house call in this day and age?), son and granddaughter hire her pretty much on the spot to be his home care nurse. References, who needs them? Except maybe it would have been a good idea to do a little checking up on her.

Soon Michelle is drugging the already disoriented Lockhart and blaming him for the murder of small animals. Why would she be so vicious? Maybe it has something to do with the clumsy flashbacks that periodically beat viewers over the head. You think maybe old George has it coming?

There is no getting around the fact this film denigrates the service of American veterans. After watching the unpleasant inevitability come to pass, most viewers from the heartland and pro-military communities will be disinclined to try anything further from Testin and screenwriter Meredith Berg, with good reason. Frankly, they are so intent on scoring their points, they completely telegraph each twist, so the film consequently lacks any sense of suspense or intensity. Instead, we are just marking time until the big comeuppance.

This is crying shame for many reasons, including a decent lead performance from Gene Jones that is totally wasted. Jones was absolutely electric in Ti West’s Jim Jones-inspired The Sacrament, which in many ways is the complete inverse opposite of Dementia, so cult film fans should catch up with it instead. This film simply does not deserve your support when opens tonight (12/4) in New York at the IFC Center.

ADIFF ’15: Impunity

This fugitive couple is sort of like a South African version of Breathless’s Belmondo and Seberg, but the country’s thorny race relations and persistent corruption will further complicate their crime spree. Once they start, they might as well go all in. At least that is how the very white Echo and Derren see it in Jyoti Mistry’s Impunity (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 African Diaspora International Film Festival in New York.

Echo is not a nymph, but Derren is maybe slightly narcissistic. Nevertheless, they might have made a nice couple together. Unfortunately, before the waitress has a chance to accompany the waiting customer home after last call, she is sexually attacked by the bar’s sleazy owner. Derren helps Echo kill him before he can finish, at which point the die is cast. Despite the justification of their actions, neither Echo nor Derren considers the possibility of justice. Instead, they light off together, living in the moment as outlaw lovers.

Although their first killing was a case of self-defense, their subsequent crimes become increasingly problematic. Echo’s immediate codependency will lead to destabilizing fits of jealousy, not wholly unlike the kind that fueled Fabrice du Welz’s Alleluia. Both are also apparently irresistible to South Africa’s multitude of races. A case in point being the government minister’s daughter, who died a grisly death after propositioning Derren. Her murder will put Pretoria police fixer Dingande Fakude on their trail. Reluctantly, local Indian copper Naveed Khan will assist his investigation, even though he openly questions Fakude’s motives and intentions.

There is a reason why “slow down and start from the beginning” is such good advice for over-heated storytellers. Striving for artistic pretension, Mistry fractures her narrative timeline, but the cinematic results fall maddeningly flat. With little reason for each flashforward and backwards, exasperated viewers will wonder why on earth they are being shown these scenes, in this order. The periodic cutaways to surveillance footage of brutal unrelated crimes also feel like old hat and are not particularly germane to the film from a thematic standpoint. Such self-conscious busyness is a shame, because there is a kernel of something buried within the film.

In its depiction of systemic government corruption and still corrosive racial attitudes, Impunity might have been a more inclusive companion film to the J.M. Coetzee adaptation Disgrace. The evolving dynamic between Fakude and Khan is particularly engaging and ultimately rewarding. It provides a Dos Passos like survey of South African society, from privileged white gated communities to still marginalized townships. However, Mistry’s structural and stylistic gimmicks repeatedly take the audience out of the picture.

Nevertheless, Alex McGregor and Bjorn Steinbach deserve all kinds of credit for their fierce commitment as Echo and Derren, respectively. Their intensity helps sell their reckless slide into outright sociopathic behavior. Desmond Dube and Vaneshran Arumugam also develop terrific chemistry together, without overplaying the odd couple buddy cop refrain. There are some impressive performances buttressing Impunity, but editors Melissa Parry and Khalid Shamis apparently were not allowed to give it a more logical shape.

To its credit, Impunity does not let anyone off the hook. Some might therefore find it significant solely for its social criticism. As cinema, it is rather frustrating. Still, it is an interesting film to dissect and analyze. For patrons looking for a potentially divisive film to debate, Impunity screens this Sunday (12/6) at MIST Harlem and Monday (12/7) at the Bow Tie Chelsea, as part of the special focus on South African cinema at this year’s ADIFF.

Obayashi at the Japan Society: The Discarnates

Hidemi Harada’s childhood years in Tokyo’s Asakusa neighborhood were pleasant while they lasted. The shops close early, but there are still enough fine sushi restaurants that a chef like his father can easily find a job, even though he has been dead since Harada was twelve. The middle-aged scriptwriter will enjoy a haunted summer, but the nature of the supernatural powers afoot is the big question in Nobuhiko Obayashi’s The Discarnates, which screens during the Japan Society’s Obayashi retrospective.

Harada is feeling a little alienated from people. He lives in one of two residential apartments in what is otherwise a commercial office building. He has just divorced his wife, only to learn his longtime producer and friend Ichiro Mamiya intends to go beyond torch-bearing and ask his ex out. Rather confused by the supposed betrayal, Harada subsequently rejects the champagne-fueled late night advances of his sole neighbor Kei Fujino.

Frankly, Harada is at risk of becoming of full blown misanthrope, albeit one who can write treacly sentimental television melodramas, until he impulsively returns to his old Asakusa neighbor. There he mysteriously encounters his father, looking just as he did when Harada last saw him. Naturally, the good natured Hidekichi invites Harada home, where his mother Fusako starts fixing him food. Harada cannot explain it, but he is not inclined to question the opportunity to feel like he is part of a family again. He also commences a relationship with Fujino, despite her hang-ups. Most notably, she refuses to let Harada see her naked chest, due to extensive scars. Frankly, Harada is emotionally happier and healthier than he can remember, but something seems to be depleting him physically.

Discarnates is the sort of film that makes you wonder why it is not more widely renowned. It is usually categorized as a horror film, but it really has a vibe similar to the more poignant Twilight Zone episodes, like A Stop at Willoughby and Kick the Can, which is high praise indeed. However, Obayashi still creates an ominous vibe of foreboding. Harada’s hugely atmospheric office/apartment building is particularly effective at setting the unsettling mood.

Tsurutarō Kataoka and Kumiko Akiyoshi are wonderfully warm and engaging as Harada’s parents, while Yûko Natori is powerfully seductive as Fujino. Harada is an awkward, mopey cold fish, but Morio Kazama somehow manages to convey a sense that he has more going on inside than meets the eye. His stiff persona also plays with and against the more outgoing Kataoka and Akiyoshi quite well.

There are serious stakes involved in Discarnates, but it leaves viewers feeling satisfied in a bittersweet kind of way, instead of wrung out by its thrills and chills. At times, Obayashi intentionally echoes the devices of Harada’s potboilers (Puccini soundtracks being his favorite cliché), but once again the auteur shows a knack for making potentially bizarre and artificial stylistic choices work rather well in practice. It is a rare paranormal drama that is distinguished by its heart and maturity, somewhat akin to Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Journey to the Shore. Very highly recommended, The Discarnates screens this Saturday (12/5) at the Japan Society in New York.

The Girl King: The Queen Who Read Descartes

While Garbo’s Queen Christina only dropped the merest hints of lesbianism, Mika Kaurismaki embraces all the speculation regarding her sexuality. However, he also devotes plenty of time to her growing attraction and ultimate conversion to Catholicism. It might sound highly contradictory in our day and age, but it was made possible by the unyieldingly strict Lutheranism the Swedish court adhered to. The Swedish Queen Kristina will love and lose in Finnish director Kaurismaki’s English language The Girl King (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Despite her early years spent with an unstable mother, Queen Kristina was raised to rule Sweden by Count Axel Oxenstierna, the High Chancellor. He mostly encourages her passion for books and philosophy, but insists she observe Sweden’s official Lutheran religion. However, the Queen’s enthusiasm for Descartes provides an opening for her Catholic suitors. France’s Ambassador Pierre Hector Chanut is the perfect man for the job. Despite his faith, he is welcomed at court, because of Sweden’s alliance with France against Germany. He also happens to be a close personal friend of Descartes.

For Oxenstiernia, Queen Kristina’s intellectual curiosity is not exactly ideal, but her refusal to marry is a more vexing problem. The throne needs its heir. Her reckless affection for Countess Ebba Sparre, her favorite lady-in-waiting, is also potentially destabilizing. When the nobles conspire to bring Sparre in line, it makes Rome look pretty inviting.

As costume dramas go, Girl King isn’t bad, especially if you enjoy watching Catholic troublemakers conspiring against dour Lutherans. It is the sort of film that boasts its best work in supporting roles, particularly Michael Nyqvist (from John Wick and the original Lisbeth Salander films) as profoundly dutiful Oxenstiernia. Hippolyte Girardot is also wonderful cunning and charming as the French ambassador. Unfortunately, Sarah Gadon’s Sparre comes across like an empty-headed Lolita mired in a state of arrested development. Malin Buska is considerably more forceful as Queen Kristina, but she’s still no Garbo—or Liv Ullman (the stakes are high when you play this Queen).

Queen Kristina’s story is certainly intriguing, especially when we layer on our own contemporary ironies. However, the neither-fish-nor-fowl execution lands it in a no man’s land between heady theological-geopolitical intrigue and sexually driven melodrama. For cineastes, its impressively severe mise-en-scene is worth seeing just to compare and contrast with Queen Christina and The Abdication (starring Ullman). It is okay, but viewers should easily be able to wait the mere handful of days until Wolfe releases it on video. Regardless, The Girl King opens this Friday (12/4) at the Laemmle Royal in LA.

AFI’s EU Showcase ’15: 1944

Estonian fought Estonian, but it was not a civil war. Fifty-five thousand men from the small Baltic nation were shanghaied into service with the Red Army during the first Soviet occupation. When fortunes on the Eastern Front temporarily tilted Germany’s way, another 72,000 Estonians were drafted, primarily by the Waffen-SS, because the Wehrmacht maintained a strict German national identity. The Estonian wartime experience becomes the stuff of high dramatic tragedy in Elmo Nüganen’s 1944 (trailer here), Estonia’s official foreign language Oscar submission, which screens as part of the AFI’s 2015 EU Film Showcase.

Like most of his Estonian comrades, Karl Tammik has little hope of living through the war. Although he has no love for the National Socialists, he is resigned to his service in their army, in part because he holds such a grudge against the Soviets. Tammik also bitterly blames himself for not moving quicker to prevent his family’s exile to Siberia. He is particularly haunted by the memory of his baby sister. Under his leadership, the ragtag Estonian unit will temporarily help hold the Tannenberg Line.

When momentum swings back to the Soviets, Nüganen and screenwriter Leo Kunnas shift their focus to an Estonian Red Army platoon. In a twist of fate worthy of Sophocles, Tammik will face Jüri Jõgi in the heat of battle. It was Jõgi’s collaborator father who denounced Tammik’s family to the Communists. However, the son has none of his father’s ideological zeal, at least not anymore. Yet, since he has the right sort of family background, the ruthless political officer is determined to recruit him as an informer against his unusually competent commander.

Nüganen stages some of the best trench warfare scenes ever filmed. He also convincingly portrays the confusion and arbitrariness of warfighting without letting the film descend into random bedlam. Basically, viewers can tell exactly how doomed the characters are, in ferociously realistic terms. Yet, there is also a sweeping irony that somehow seems to flow naturally out of the fundamental absurdity of the Estonians’ situation. Kunnas structures the film with almost perfect symmetry, escalating the grief and sorrow with each reprise.

As Tammik, Kaspar Velberg broods like a man possessed, despite his natural Baltic reserve. Likewise, Kristjan Üksküla’s Jõgi quietly wears his angst and guilt on his sleeve like badge of dishonor, until he finally explodes (by Baltic standards). Peeter Tammearu is also profoundly loathsome as Kreml the political officer. Not surprisingly, there are not many roles for women in 1944, but Maken Schmidt makes the most of her screen time as Tammik’s sister Aino. It is a heartbreaking but complex performance that will knock the wind out of you.

Nüganen’s battle scenes can hang with anything Hollywood has produced in recent years, but it is the massive micro and macro ironies that make 1944 such a powerhouse. Based on its graphic depictions of the Red Army’s brutal tactics, the Russians are sure to have Nüganen and Kunnas’s names on a list if they ever invade Estonia again—and if you find that scenario highly unlikely then you really need to see 1944. Very highly recommended, 1944 screens this Saturday (12/5) as part of the AFI’s EU Film Showcase.

Making Waves ’15: Microphone Test

Several times Nelu Stroe’s mandatory military service has been postponed, but make no mistake, as a cameraman for the state media service, he is still very definitely at the government’s beck and call. He thinks his has charted an easier course for himself, but he starts to question his choices when he meets a relatively free-spirited woman. Subtly but subversively, Mircea Daneliuc holds a sly mirror up to 1980s Communist society in Microphone Test, which screens as part of a retrospective tribute to the filmmaker at this year’s Making Waves: New Romanian Cinema (at the Jacob Burns Film Center).

That is Daneliuc himself behind Stroe’s era appropriate mustache, as well as his constantly rolling camera. The year might be 1980, but Stroe works on a very contemporary sounding show. In their early forerunner of reality TV, Stroe films his on-again-off-again lover as she ambushes petty criminals. Her preferred prey are train passengers caught riding without tickets, such as the unrepentant Ani Covete. Much to his surprise, Covete reaches out to Stroe, but not in hopes of spiking her story. Instead, she rather smoothly charms him into loaning her money.

Thus begins a stormy, complicated romance. Although, on some level Stroe realizes he is being played, he cannot help falling for her. He also starts to sympathize with her frustrations with the labor and residency regulations that prevent her from taking a sustainable job. Seeing bureaucracy from her perspective is an eye-opener. However, the health of their relationship becomes rather precarious due to her continued contact with her ex and his yet to be fixed draft notice.

Test might seem like decidedly cautious satire by our standards, but it was pretty rigorous stuff for its time. The groovy atmosphere also helps sweeten its caustic attitude. In terms of tone, think of it as a cross between Andrzej Wajda’s Without Anesthesia and a frank 1970s relationship dramedy—sort of. In fact, it takes several very strange detours that are still quite in keeping with its spirit.

Daneliuc is really terrific as Stroe, helping his cause no end. One could argue he gives two distinct performances, with and without mustache, but they are both great. As Covete, Tora Vasilescu resembles a Romanian Debra Winger and she has a similar unpredictability. That might make Gina Patrichi a Gena Rowlands or Anne Bancroft figure as the older, more cynical reporter. There are serious sparks flying whenever the three play off each other.

Microphone Test is not an outraged protest film, but it offers viewers surreptitious peaks inside the Romania of its time. It is a messy world, filled with absurdist regulations, bitter power games, and good old fashioned lust. Intellectually fascinating and almost perversely engrossing, Microphone Test screens this Thursday (12/3) as part of Making Waves at the Jacob Burns Film Center in Pleasantville.

Macbeth: Fassbender Takes on the Sound and Fury

Academics have long debated just how many children Lady Macbeth had and lost, because they don’t hand out tenure for nothing. Justin Kurzel’s new cinematic take on the Scottish Play is willing to go on record positing one child, whose tragic death will psychologically torment her and her noble husband unremittingly. Kurzel also more fully embraces the blood and carnage of battle than politely prestigious productions past in his vivid adaptation of Macbeth (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

You might not recognize the scene of Macbeth, Thane of Glamis and Lady Macbeth burning their young child on a funeral pyre, but from there on, it is business as usual. However, Kurzel does not skimp on hack-and-slash action when Macbeth and his faithful comrade Banquo vanquish the forces of the treasonous Macdonwald. Just as the three witches promise, Macbeth is promoted to Thane Cawdor following the traitor’s execution. That gives Lady Macbeth ideas about the rest of the witches’ prophesy, particularly the part about Macbeth becoming King of Scotland. However, they had an addendum hailing Banquo as the forefather of future kings that somewhat vexes the childless Macbeth.

Although Lady Macbeth does indeed prompt her husband to commit murder, Kurzel’s conception of the Scottish Play is remarkably forgiving of this often vilified noble woman. Again, the explicit grief for her child humanizes her subsequent sins to a considerable extent. On the other hand, Malcolm the heir apparent is portrayed in unusually shallow and cowardly terms.

Casting Michael Fassbender as Macbeth is so logically self-evident, it seems strange nobody tried to do it sooner. He does not disappoint, completely committing to Kurzel highly physical conception of the Thane. One look from him can make the heather on the hills wilt. In contrast, Marion Cotillard’s Lady Macbeth is unusually sensitive and guilt-ridden. Unlike memorably ferocious Lady Macbeths (Rosanne Ma in the Pan Asian Rep’s Shogun Macbeth is still a favorite), she is almost delicate, which makes the contrast between her and Macbeth all the more dramatic. Paddy Considine and Sean Harris also add considerable grit and heft as Banquo and Macduff, respectively.

Visually, cinematographer Adam Arkapaw work is just as bold, deliberately evoking blood and fire with his vivid color palette, while (brother) Jed Kurzel’s minimalist score gives the film a contemporary vibe. Kurzel somewhat overindulges in symbolic imagery with his over the top closing sequence, but that is a minor misstep. In general, his fearlessness pays dividends.

Frankly, the all the best Shakespearean films take some liberties with their source material. Arguably, Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood remains the greatest cinematic Macbeth, with its completely original but utterly iconic death scene. Kurzel’s Macbeth is a worthy follower in its tradition. Like Ralph Fiennes’ Coriolanus, Kurzel is very much in touch with the manly, action-driven side of Shakespeare, while also ruthlessly plumbing the dark psychological depths of his flawed characters. Highly recommended, Macbeth opens this Friday (12/4) in New York, at the Landmark Sunshine.

Making Waves ’15: Aliyah DaDa

After the Six-Day War, Romania was the only Warsaw Pact country to maintain diplomatic relations with the State of Israel. That’s not much say for the Ceauşescu regime, but its something. In truth, Israel and Romania had a long and complex history that predated 1967, going back to the very first organized Aliyah that originated in part from Romania. Oania Giurgiu talks to descendants of those very first pioneers in her sweeping yet highly personal documentary, Aliyah DaDa (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 edition of Making Waves: New Romanian Cinema.

In the late Nineteenth Century, a hearty band of Romanian Jews returned to their ancient homeland. It was a hard life, but the local Arab population was rather glad to have them there as potential allies and buffers in their quarrels with the Bedouins. They would not be the last Romanian Jews to take the Aliyah journey to what would be known as Israel again in 1948. However, the fascist Antonescu regime imposed anti-Jewish laws, much like their Axis allies, which abruptly halted all Jewish immigration.

Jewish Romanian transit re-commenced in the immediate power-war years, but at that time leaving Romania was the safest part of the journey. Following the purge of prominent Jewish CP member Ana Pauker, Ceauşescu generally followed the Soviets’ anti-Semitic party line. Yet, he still periodically allowed spurts of immigration to Israel, in return for hard currency.

That is the broad strokes of it, but it is the personal details that interest Giurgiu. Though not Jewish herself, she had always been fascinated by the fate of immigrating Jewish Hungarians after her parents bought their house from one such family. She also finds a visually distinctive way to tell their stories, constructing on-screen photo-collages inspired by the work of Tristan Tzara and Marcel Janco, two Jewish Romanians who were at the forefront of the DaDa art movement.

We should all know the fundamentals of Romania’s tragic Communist and fascist past, but seeing it as part of a continuum of over a century of history rather puts things in perspective. All things considered, it is miraculous the nation is not even more dysfunctional. To her credit, Giurgiu keeps the film grounded in the human realities of the grand macro forces through her interviews with the frank and welcoming Romanian-Israelis.

Strangely enough, Giurgiu’s cinematic collages also serve the material quite well, dramatically illustrating the passage of time through her layering-on and stripping off. She also assembles some striking archival photos, which are often haunting, nostalgic, or a little of both. Her interview style is decidedly informal, but it clearly works with both the learned scholars and weathered farmers descended from members of that 1882 Aliyah.

ADD is briskly paced but also provides a surprisingly comprehensive yet digestible overview of Jewish Romanian history up until the Revolution. It offers insights into both totalitarian systems that misruled the nation during the last century, while also earning way more style points than your garden variety documentary. Highly recommended, Aliyah DaDa screens this Thursday (12/3) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s Making Waves: New Romanian Cinema.

Fear the Walking Dead: the Zombie Prequel

Unlike Deputy Sheriff Rick Grimes, Travis Manawa and his family did not sleep through the zombie uprising, but they still never saw it coming. Like the Spanish Inquisition, nobody expects the zombie apocalypse. LA traffic and attitudes only makes the problem of undead hordes worse in Fear the Walking Dead—the Complete First Season (trailer here), the AMC Walking Dead prequel series now available on DVD and BluRay.

As far as viewers know, Nick Clark is the first person to see zombies and live to tell the tale. Unfortunately, as a heroin junkie who ran into traffic, nobody will give his warnings much credence, not even Clark himself. Frankly, his widowed mother Madison Clark and sister Alicia are rather glad to have him in the hospital, where he can presumably be watched for his own good. However, this is an unusually busy day for emergency services, allowing him to slip out.

Clark and her high school teacher boyfriend Travis Manawa will try to track him down, but the city seems to be crazier than usually. There have been a rash of police shootings in which the bodies are absolutely riddled with bullets. Like a budding Tarantino, Manawa’s son Chris is eager to protest the cops’ presumed excessive force. Naturally he takes to the streets to protest at a rather inopportune time. Manawa and Clark will try to round up their respective kids and ex-wives, in hopes they can ride out the unrest somewhere in the desert, until in a case of classic good news-bad news, the military imposes martial law.

Although the initial episodes are also rather sparing in their depictions of zombies, the first season of Fear is considerably grabbier than year one of the mother franchise. Of course, having Cliff Curtis (of Whale Rider and Once Were Warriors) to anchor the series helps tremendously. While Manawa starts out likeably square and straight-arrow, Curtis believably takes him to some dark places as the first season progresses. He also develops some believable chemistry with Kim Dickens’ Clark. Ruben Blades adds further heft as Daniel Salazar, an El Salvadoran barber who reluctantly offers the Manawas shelter during a riot.

So far, the younger generation is not keeping up its end as well, but poor Frank Dillane is sort of stuck playing annoying junkie behavior as the needs-to-be-killed-off Nick Mason. Alycia Debnam-Carey also shows some promise and poise as Alicia Mason, but Lorenzo James Henrie’s personality-free Chris Manawa could get eaten by zombies and viewers would barely notice. Unfortunately, the always reliable Sandrine Holt’s talents are largely wasted on Dr. Exner, who hardly gets any character development until it is too late, but Colman Domingo (who helped rock Passing Strange) pretty much steals the show when he appears in the late episodes as Nick Clark’s mysterious protector, Victor Strand. He is reason enough to comeback for a second season.

Season one of Fear also ends more decisively than the first season of the original Walking Dead. It reaches an emotional crescendo for the main characters totally in keeping with what fans expect. Needless to say, not everyone will return for season two. Leaving viewers primed for more, Fear the Walking Dead—the Complete First Season is good zombie television (but it still cannot compare to the George Romero movies that so clearly inspired its world). Recommended for zombie fans, it releases today on DVD and BluRay, from Anchor Bay Entertainment.