SXSW ’19: One Man Dies a Million Times

Ironically, celebrated dissident poet Anna Akhmatova came through the Battle of Leningrad relatively intact. It was the Stalinist Purges that killed her husband Nikolay Gumilev. Nevertheless, she captured the suffering of the blockade in her masterwork, Poem without a Hero, which she dedicated to the victims. Her verse is among the primary sources that director-screenwriter-producer-editor Jessica Oreck has adapted into a strange oral history-dystopian narrative hybrid. The writings document the dark days of 1941-1944, whereas the setting is sometime in the doomed near future, but don’t call Oreck’s One Man Dies a Million Times science fiction when it screens again during the 2019 SXSW Film Festival.

It sounds awkward, but it is eerie how easily the ghostly words from the Stalinist era fit a vaguely dystopian future time frame. It is also quite amazing how compatible vintage Soviet architecture is with a cautionary Orwellian setting. Much of Million Times was shot in and around the N.I. Vavilov Institute for Plant Genetic Resources, where botanists struggled to preserve the Institute’s large repository of seeds during the Siege, for the sake of humanity’s future—an apparently will do so again.

Alyssa and Maksim were friends and are now lovers, as well as colleagues in botany, but the stress and suffering of the Siege will take a toll on their relationship. Nevertheless, they remain steadfastly committed to protecting the seed bank and the wealth of bio-diversity it represents, especially Alyssa.

Visually, OMDAMT is often absolutely stunning. There is no question it represents some of the best work from indie cinematographer extraordinaire Sean Price Williams. The use of black-and-white with occasional flashes of color is as starkly dramatic as anything realized on-screen, maybe since Schindler’s List. In fact, there really is merit and substance to Oreck’s concept. She gets at something very specific of the time and era, yet it is also a distinctively individual vision. The drawback is diminishing marginal returns set-in pretty early during the third act for Oreck’s hybrid-hybrid.

As their namesakes, Alyssa Lozovskaya and Maksim Blinov look like they stepped out of a Pawel Pawlikowski film, which is not a bad thing. The latter broods like crazy, but it is the sensitivity of the former that will really haunt viewers. It is pretty compelling to watch them endure dire privations, as when they boil up soup with pieces of a leather belt.

Right, so it turns out Russia was (and will be) decidedly grim. OMDAMT transports viewers to another time and place, much in the manner of Aleksey German’s immersive masterworks, but Oreck’s exclusive reliance on primary civilian texts necessarily leads to a rather soft finish. Regardless, it is a rather fascinating and undeniably ambitious work of cinema, from a filmmaker previously known mostly for documentaries (including the absolutely charming Beetle Queen Conquers Tokyo). Recommended for adventurous audiences, One Man Dies a Million Times screens again this Friday (3/15), during SXSW ’19.

Unknown Soldier: The Finnish Red Badge of Courage

If Russian wants to claim the Crimea than it should relinquish its hold on the Republic of Karelia to be consistent—like that would ever happen. It inspired Sibelius’s Karelia Suite, so you can’t get much more Finnish than that. Finland had reclaimed the Finnish speaking area during the Continuation War, but alas, it ended in a less satisfying manner than the previous Winter War. The fog of that ill-fated follow-up war is vividly captured in Aku Louhimies’s Unknown Soldier, reportedly the most expensive Finnish film ever produced, which releases today on DVD.

Most of the soldiers we meet in the early days of the Continuation War are kids, but not Rokka, a crusty old veteran of the Winter War. The middle-aged farmer was less than thrilled to be drafted, but he will do his duty—just do not expect him to act like he is happy about it. Immediately, Rokka clashes with his officers, even the grounded Second Lieutenant Koskela. Nevertheless, he has a knack for killing Russians and keeping his comrades alive, particularly his crony, Susi.

Initially, the Finnish forces score several victories, but the tide will turn against them. Louihimies & Jari Olavi Rantala’s adaptation of Väinö Linna’s classic autobiographical novel unambiguously blames the Finnish officer class, with the sole exception of Koskela. Unfortunately, that necessarily includes the dashing young platoon commander Kariluoto. He does not have the gumption to challenge his superior officers, but he has the integrity to face every danger shoulder-to-shoulder with his men.

Louhimies’s Unknown Soldier is a three-hour epic (there were three prior adaptations), but the scenes of muddy, mucky warfighting definitely start to blend together. There are dozens of name characters jostling for the viewer’s attention, but only four really stand out: Rokka, Koskela, Kariluoto, and the doughy joker, Vanhala.

Nevertheless, nobody can deny Louhimies has staged some dashed dramatic battle sequences. He definitely conveys a visceral sense of the violent, confused, and random nature of war. Eero Aho and Jussi Vatanen effectively anchor the film, at opposite poles, as Rokka and Koskela, respectively.

Mika Orasmaa’s cinematography encompasses both the macro sweep and micro grit of war, while Lasse Enersen’s score has a vintage Maurice Jarre vibe. It is an impressive technical package, especially when it comes to the blood and guts and bullets whizzing and bombs exploding.

Apparently, Louhimies’s Unknown Soldier is considered somewhat revisionist in Finland, because it openly addresses the country’s alliance with National Socialist Germany. However, nobody in the film seems too happy about it. It is easy to criticize in retrospect, but when a small country like Finland is invaded by a large, rapacious nation like the Soviet Union, it is hard to blame the scrappy defenders for accepting whatever help they could get. In all honesty, the Continuation War was a war against fascist imperialism and the fascists won. As revisionist as the film may or may not be, it is always clear the Soviets were marauders, bent on conquest, who do indeed commit war crimes at one point—so the film is accurate in that respect.

Problematically impersonal at times, Unknown Soldier is still an impressively immersive work of war cinema. Recommended for the spectacle and scale of the action, Unknown Soldier releases today (3/12) on DVD and BluRay.

Darkness Visible: Bad Karma in Kolkata

You have to be intrigued by a horror movie set in India that references John Milton. It might technically be a British production, but it is definitely still in tune with the setting and culture of Kolkata. Ronnie the lifelong Londoner never really knew the city of his birth, but he is about to get immersed in some local color, whether he likes it or not, in Neil Biswas’s Darkness Visible, which releases today on DVD, from Blue Fox Entertainment.

Frankly, Ronnie did not even know he was born in Kolkata. His mum always told him he was born in London, shortly after she arrived, on her own. Supposedly, his father abandoned them, but he will soon have reason to doubt that too. Until now, he never had much interest in his Bengali heritage, because his mother completely turned her back on it, for as long as he can remember. That is why he is so stunned when she turns up in a coma in a Kolkata hospital bed, after mysteriously disappearing on his twentieth-eighth birthday. Of course, viewers can see she was obviously spooked by his latest graffiti painting of an ominous painting of a notorious Kolkata neighborhood.

Soon, Ronnie is meeting Kolkata relatives for the first time and falling under suspicion for a series of ritualistic murders. He is an easy scapegoat, but Asha, a police photographer, knows better. She identifies the commonalities with another series of occult murders that coincidentally happened twenty-eight years ago. Presumably Ronnie could not have committed those, but Rakhee, a notorious practitioner of black magic is clearly involved.

Darkness looks great and it definitely has its creepy moments, but Biswas’s pacing is a bit slack. Frankly, most viewers will realize around the forty-minute mark that this narrative really should be much further along by then. Darkness clocks in at one-hundred one minutes, but it honestly should have come in around the eighty-to-eighty-five range. Oh well, such is life.

Regardless, nobody can fault the film when it comes to atmosphere. Biswas and cinematographer fully capitalize on the noir ambiance of their Kolkata locations. The professional ensemble also keeps up their end, particularly Jaz Deol, who credibly portrays all sorts of physical and emotional extremes as Ronnie. Sayani Gupta and Neil Bhoopalam both counterbalance him quite effectively, as the smart, proactive Asha and Ronnie’s judgmental cousin AJ, respectively.

Given the volume of low-to-no budget horror movies released each week, Darkness certainly stands out as something rather distinctive, but it is still essentially a B-movie. It just does not have the depth or the archetypal heft of Tumbbad or Sunrise, yet it is still sufficiently different to pleasantly distract die-hard genre consumers. Recommended for fans of non-western horror movies, Darkness Visible releases today (3/12) on DVD.

Rezo: An Animated Portrait of the Georgian Artist

Rezo Gabriadze was an accomplished screenwriter, whose films included the international cult hit, Kin-Dza-Dza!, but he refocused his creative energies into marionette theater, because he experienced far less state interference there. The puppeteer-illustrator-filmmaker explains how the lean, difficult years of his youth shaped him as an artist and a human being, through his own words and images, in his son Leo Gabriadze’s animated documentary, Rezo, which opens this Wednesday in New York, at Film Forum.

As a young boy in Kutaisi, Gabriadze was so weak and scrawny, everyone picked on him. His only friend in town was Ippolit, a rat living in the library, with whom he shared the books. He read the pages and Ippolit chewed the covers—or so Gabriadze remembers. He is indeed just as apt to pass off his flights of fantasy as gospel events, but that is all part of the charm of the film and its subject.

Although Gabriadze was a city kid, his most formative memories are of his visit to his grandparents’ hardscrabble farms, during summers and whenever war started advancing too close to home. They were not talkative (especially not his gruff grandfather), but the animals and natural environment fired the lad’s imagination. He was also deeply affected by the friendship he found with a German POW who had been assigned to his grandparents as a free laborer. In fact, the nameless German (who clearly looks like one of the elite Junkers) emerges as one of the richest and most intriguing figures in Gabriadze’s tale (or in just about any recent animated film, for that matter).

Although Marc Chagall was fiftysome years older than Gabriadze (and Belarusian Jewish), Rezo is probably the closest thing to what Chagall might have done as an animator filmmaker, had he had the opportunity and inclination. We can definitely see Russian-Soviet militarism encroaching on the old traditional world—and yes, there are cows in Rezo. In what is probably the film’s trippiest sequence, Gabriadze conveys what it was like to grow up in the midst of the omnipresent Soviet propaganda.

This is also an absolutely charming film. The senior Gabriadze, who appears in live on-camera interludes, still has a twinkle in his eye. He is a marvelously engaging storyteller, even via subtitles. His sketches and paintings perfectly evoke a sense of how harsh those times could be, as well as nostalgia for their simplicity. Those who admire Gabriadze’s work might be surprised how little time is devoted to his professional career, but it might perfect sense from a psycho-analyst’s perspective.

Regardless, Rezo is a wonderfully sly and bittersweet oral history from a great Georgian artist. It also proves how animation can be the perfect vehicle for serious filmmaking. Frankly, this is probably the only way to do Gabriadze’s story justice, because he clearly remembers in very animated terms. Produced by epic filmmaker Timur Bekmambetov (Ben-Hur, Day Watch), Rezo happens to run a fleeting sixty-five-minutes, so Film Forum has paired it up with Yuri Norstein’s classic 1979 animated short Tale of Tales. Highly recommended, both for animation fans (of all but the youngest ages) and patrons of Russian and Caucasian culture, Rezo opens this Wednesday (3/13), at Film Forum.

SXSW ’19: Tales from the Lodge

This weekend will sort of be like a British Big Chill, but with portents of more death to come. A group of old friends have assembled to mourn a friend who committed suicide, but instead of listening to moldy 1960s pop, they pass the time telling macabre stories. Actually, it is nothing like a British Big Chill, because it is really quite clever. Abigail Blackmore and her collaborating cast-members give the horror anthology a fresh spin in Tales from the Lodge, which premiered at the 2019 SXSW Film Festival.

Jonesy offed himself by drowning, which was dashed awkward of him. Martha is also rather put out that Paul has brought his latest girlfriend to the ash-scattering weekend. Her name is Miki, but everyone keeps calling her Nikki, annoying her no end. Frankly, Emma and Russell are happy to have any excuse to be away from their kids, while Martha’s sickly husband Joe would be miserable wherever he was.

As the resentments start to build, the university friends distract themselves with stories that mix humor with horror. However, the format eventually starts to breakdown. Poor Joe doesn’t get to properly finish his tale, whereas Emma has more of a performance piece (as you might call it). Paul’s story of a sinister auto misadventure is probably the most akin to the sort of British tales of terror you used to see in Amicus anthology films or the Hammer House of Horror TV show, making it a fitting opener. Perhaps the best tale is Martha’s deliciously ironic spirit possession yarn, while Russell’s zombie fantasy is probably the most cinematic, starting out as a jokey lark, but taking a dark turn.

Yet, Lodge is that rare animal among horror anthologies, in that its connecting material is better (and ultimately creepier) than the constituent tales. These sequences are also considerably longer than typical anthology framing devices. In fact, the ill-fated reunion is clearly the whole point of the film instead of a mere afterthought.

The six principals are all cuttingly funny and they play of each other quite adroitly. Laura Fraser is probably the stand-out as the abrasively passive-aggressive Martha. Kelly Wenham also clearly enjoys getting to chew some serious scenery as Miki, but Mackenzie Crook, Dustin Demri-Burns, Sophie Thompson, and Johnny Vegas all take full advantage of their spots, as Joe, Paul, Emma, and Russell, respectively.

Fans of the British horror tradition will get a big kick out of Lodge. Blackmore’s screenplay is incisively droll, but also nostalgic in the right way. Apparently, it was an unusually successful group effort, with the six main thesps getting directing credits for their characters’ stories in the closing titles. Highly recommended for old school genre anthology movie fans, Tales from the Lodge screens again Monday (3/11) and Wednesday (3/13), as part of this year’s SXSW.

Starfish: The Apocalyptic Mixtapes

Soundwaves are a strange phenomenon. Even when they are pitched beyond our auditory range as humans, we are still affected by them. That is why the fuller spectrum of sound from vinyl records sounds so much better than CDs. It is also how we subliminally picked up on the news Paul McCartney died in 1966. More ominously, something embedded in a series of mixtapes might have triggered something apocalyptic in A.T. White’s moody and mysterious Starfish, which screens in Brooklyn next week, as part of its roadshow.

Aubrey Parker has come home for the funeral of her best friend, Grace, whose death is a source of tremendous guilt for her. Frankly, she harbors many, many regrets. To wallow in her misery, Parker breaks into Grace’s apartment, but her descent into depression is interrupted by something absolutely monstrous, in a genre kind of way.

It would be spoilery to get too specific about what happens in Starfish, even if we could explain it with confidence. The truth is, White deliberately maintains a great deal of uncertainty, which can be annoying, but works surprisingly well in this case. Regardless, it seems there is some kind of signal occurring, most likely originating from a source beyond our comprehension. However, that signal has been recorded and played back in a corrupted form, which has caused the current hideous state of things. Or so Grace hypothesized.

She was well versed in whatever theories regarding the signal. Apparently, she stashed recordings of it in seven locations that held tremendous personal significance for her and Parker. Collecting and compiling those mixtapes could be the key to everything, but the process will repeatedly send Parker down rabbit-holes of her memory and subconscious.

There have been a number of previous films that used uncanny signals as their Macguffins (several of them have been called The Signal, or a close derivation thereof), but White’s use of mixtapes gives Starfish (a rather misleading title) a distinctively low-fi analog vibe. He also adheres to the mixtape aesthetic stylistically, incorporating a wildly cool animated sequence and a sure-to-be-divisive self-referential scene that either makes or breaks the film for viewers who can make up their mind on it.

Yet, somehow, White keeps us disoriented, but completely locked in every step of the way. His command of mood and texture, as well as Alberto Bañares’ hazy, otherworldly cinematography are the real stars of the film, but Virginia Gardner deserves credit for hanging tough with them. As Parker, she convincingly alternates between states of general freaked-out-ness and grim resolution. Although Christina Masterson only appears briefly as Grace, her presence is also felt acutely throughout the film.

So much of Starfish involves intangibles, so it easily could have fallen flat, but White and his cast and crew pull it off. It is unusually melancholy for a film that straddles the science fiction and horror categories, but that is why it stands out, even for those of us who consume genre films and programming in bulk. Highly recommended for cult film fans, Starfish screens Wednesday (3/13), Friday (3/15) and Saturday (3/16) at the Nitehawk in Brooklyn and Friday (3/15) at the Yonkers Drafthouse.

Jackie Chan in Police Story 2

This is a true sequel, with the same cast returning to play the same characters from the original film, but things would get much looser in future installments of the Police Story franchise. In New Police Story (#5), Jackie Chan plays Chan Kwok-ming and in Police Story: Lockdown he portrays Zhong Wen, who is a Mainland copper rather than a member of Hong Kong’s finest. Here he is still Chan Ka-kui of the most dedicated, but not necessarily smartest officers on the Royal HK force. A lot has changed since 1988, but the fight scenes will still fire up fans in Chan’s Police Story 2, which opens today in a spiffy 4K restoration at the NuArt in LA.

Chan is a dedicated cop, but his enthusiasm sometimes gets the best of him. That resulted in some spectacular property damage in the first film that temporarily has him busted down to traffic cop, even though he collared (and beat the heck out of) the bad guy, crime lord Chu Tao. Rather gallingly, Chu is granted early release on supposedly compassionate grounds. Not surprisingly, he frequently has his goons stalk our man Chan. He can generally handle them, but it will complicate his investigation into a gang of explosive extortionists. Their thuggish harassment of his girlfriend May will also tax their relationship beyond the breaking point.

Like Police Story Uno, the first sequel features some amazing fights. The playground jungle gym fight scene is absolutely vintage Jackie Chan, but the climatic beatdown (with fire-bombs) at the gang’s post-industrial hideout is a truly a dazzler. However, the second film also has much better straight police procedural material, including a nifty sequence in which Chan and the HKPD’s surveillance team shadow a suspect.

Chan is definitely Chan in PS2, as well as his character, Chan ka-kui. Arguably, the first three films in the Police Story franchise are probably most responsible for his international persona (along with Armour of God). He gives up his body for our entertainment, but he also gives as good as he takes in the classic action sequences. Yet, he also develops greater rapport with Maggie Cheung, who is so sweet and innocent as poor May. This time around, their chemistry together is genuinely endearing.

Of course, it still the spectacularly moves and unbelievable stunts that make Story 2 such an enduring fan favorite. At this point in his career, Chan would do anything to please—and the proof is in this film. Required viewing for any martial arts and HK action fan, Police Story 1 and 2 both open today (3/8) in LA, at the Landmark NuArt.

Jackie Chan in Police Story

Back in 1985, Jackie Chan was a proud Hong Konger, rather than a Mainland suck-up. That year saw the release of his first outing as Chan Ka-kui, a model officer of the Royal Hong Kong Police Force. In fact, his boss will make him the poster-cop for the department’s recruitment campaign, but his subsequent witness protection assignment brings no end of trouble in Chan’s Police Story, which opens today in a shiny new 4K restoration at the NuArt in LA.

Viewers should have an idea of what to expect from PS1 from the opening action scene. Basically, an entire hillside squatters’ camp is leveled to the ground when Chan chases the slimy crime boss Chu Tao through it. However, Chan is just getting started (as director, character, and action star).

Chu manages to elude Chan’s grasp, but his new assistant Selina Fong is not so fortunate. She has no intention of testifying against her boss, but when the HK brass announces her cooperation, they basically force her hand. Naturally, they assign Chan the supercop to lead her security detail. Unfortunately, Fong will not believe the truth about Chu until it is almost too late, but she will create tons of problems for Chan during the second act, when his naïve girlfriend May mistakenly assumes something intimate is brewing between the cop and the reluctant witness.

If you enjoy fight scenes than Police Story 1 is truly your catnip. Although the film has plenty of Chan’s signature brand of goofy humor, the melee gets pretty brutal, with combatants landing hard on pelvises and tailbones. Much glass is broken during the course of the film, but it all culminates spectacularly in a barnburner of beatdown in a shopping mall, which is just so eighties.

Throughout Police Story, Chan is determined to please and entertain, regardless of the wear and tear on his body. He definitely takes a beating and keeps on ticking. This is classic Chan and Chor Yuen is a classic movie villain as Chu. Frankly, Maggie Cheung is a bit under-employed as May, but Brigitte Lin vamps it up old school as Fong, the pseudo-femme fatale.

Even Jackie Chan’s biggest fans will admit the narrative is just whatever and some of the gags are shamelessly shticky. However, the big action centerpieces are still impressive. It is also quite a vivid reminder of how analog the world was during the mid-1980s. In the case of Hong Kong, it was also freer back then. Indeed, Police Story helps us remember how great the eighties were, back before Jackie Chan sold his soul to the Mainland regime. Highly recommended for all action fans, Police Story 1 and 2 both open today (3/8) in LA, at the Landmark NuArt.

Ferrante Fever: Those Infectious Neapolitan Novels

Elena Ferrante is like a Thomas Pynchon for East Coast book clubs. Her readers are deeply fascinated by her novels, even though they have no idea who she really is or what she looks like. That mystery is the sizzle used to sell the literary steak in Giacomo Durzi’s documentary Ferrante Fever, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Ferrante is having a bit of a moment these days. HBO has renewed their adaption of her so-called Neapolitan Novels for a second season and Film Movement has released a two-DVD set of Italian films based on her work. In 2016, Time magazine listed her as one of the “100 Most Influential” people of the year, but that seems like a questionable call, considering Ferrante has deliberately opted out of playing the role of public intellectual. Yet, in some ways, her anonymity has propelled her into the public consciousness.

Of course, for serious literary figures like Elizabeth Strout and Jonathan Franzen, Ferrante is all about the words on the printed page and any intrigue involving her secret identity is beside the point. They genuinely mean it, but that makes Durzi’s film a bit of a bait-and-switch, potentially luring viewers in with the Ferrante mystery, but spending most of its time on her language and themes.

As a result, Fever is very definitely a film for Ferrante fans. Indeed, there is a good deal of analysis of her use of Naples as a backdrop, but it rather dances around the city’s reputation as a Camorra stronghold, even though Gomorrah author Roberto Saviano is one of Durzi’s expert commentators. On the other hand, Franzen is almost too spot-on to discuss Ferrante’s aversion to publicity, given his well-documented kerfuffle with the Oprah Book Club.

That is all well and good, but neither Franzen or his colleagues really convey a sense to non-fans why they are so enthralled by Ferrante’s books. Yes, we understand they have a strong sense of place and ring with a voice of honesty, but there are a lot of books with literary merit out there. Most viewers will also be disappointed the film makes no attempt whatsoever to create some kind of possible profile for Ferrante. After all, part of the fascination is the unlikely possibility Ferrante is a schlubby dude that works as a janitor in Palermo, who is cat-fishing the Italian literary establishment.

It is nice to see a documentary that takes literature and book publishing so seriously, but the tone and depth of Fever is better suited for Europa Editions’ sales conference than a film to see in theaters. Since it never really lives up to its mysterious promise, Ferrante Fever is likely to disappoint when it opens tomorrow (3/8) in New York, at the Quad Cinema.

Panahi’s 3 Faces

It rather makes sense banned Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi would be drawn to films shot in cars, because he might need to make a speedy escape during production. This is his fourth film he has completed and released internationally since the Iranian film authorities formally prohibited him from pursuing his chosen art and professional vocation, following up the similarly auto-centric Tehran Taxi. This time, Panahi, appearing as a meta-version of himself, takes a road trip to Iran’s mountainous Turkish-speaking Azeri region in 3 Faces, which opens this Friday in New York.

Apparently, social media is just as problematic in Iran, as it is in the West, judging from the suicide video sent to famous screen thesp Behnaz Jafari, played by herself. According to the video, Marziyeh Rezaei killed herself, because her family forced her to give up her acting ambitions and Jafari had refused to respond to any of her pleas for help. Jafari insists she never received any messages from the young girl, which seems plausible, considering the video was sent to Panahi, on her behalf.

Reluctantly, Panahi is driving Jafari to Rezaei’s Azeri village to either verify or debunk the videotape. He would prefer to stay clear of the mess, but his moderating influence will probably be helpful. Much to his dismay, Jafari has been reacting more out of anger for the embarrassment and inconvenience of the kerfuffle than compassion for Rezaei’s plight.

The title is a not-so obvious reference to three actresses, at very different stages of their careers. Jafari is famous, so she is welcomed by the village with open arms. On the other hand, Rezaei’s ambitions are treated as a source of family shame by her father and boorish brother. However, she probably has it easy compared to the unseen Shahrzad, a once-popular star of pre-Revolutionary Iranian cinema, who has been scorned and harassed by the villagers since her arrival. There are also three kindred spirits in the film, who have been prohibited from pursuing their cinematic callings, with Panahi replacing Jafari.

The mere fact that 3 Faces exists at all is cause for celebration. It has also already played a small part in cinema history, because Asghar Farhadi spoke out unequivocally against Panahi’s travel ban, when he appeared at Cannes, which was screening his latest film, as well as 3 Faces. Ironically, of Panahi’s post-ban films, 3F is probably the slightest thematically and the least concerned with social commentary, even though it is the most traditionally movie-like. Nevertheless, there is still something acutely compelling about Panahi’s humanistic response to the troubles of Rezaei and the one-named Shahrzad. As in This is Not a Film and Taxi, Panahi is a mature, reassuring, and affectionately awkward presence, like a dissident dad-figure.

Panahi’s shaggy charisma continues to wear well over time, but it is Jafari who really takes possession of the film. She is sly and caustic at first, but she also makes the most of her rewarding meta-character development arc. In many ways, Jafari is a diva, but she still develops some surprisingly arch comedic rapport with Panahi.

Even a relatively minor Panahi film is cause for celebration. 3 Faces is also a graceful tribute women thesps and filmmakers, who risk much to express themselves creatively in Islamist Iran, as well as a subtle homage to Panahi’s former mentor and collaborator, Abbas Kiarostami (the echoes of Kiarostami’s Close-Up are especially pronounced). Highly recommended, 3 Faces opens this Friday (3/8) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Tangent Room: Decode Reality to Save the Universe

They are the Fab Four of crazy-large number mathematics and theoretical physics. If anyone has the collective brain power to save the world, it would be these four. The problem is, they do not know what the question is, or even have any inkling of the nature of the wider crisis. All they know is that they are locked up together and they are not getting out until they figure out what is going on in screenwriter-director-producer-cinematographer-co-editor-visual-effects-guy Björn Engström’s Tangent Room, which releases today on VOD.

As preeminent scientists, all four eggheads have corresponded with Dr. Wahlstein, but only Sandra Brandt knew him personally. Alas, the other three missed their chance, because the eccentric scientist is now dead, as he himself explains in his introductory video. For some reason, he has brought them together in this grubby conference room, locking them in and cutting them off from the outside world. They will have to figure out the why on their own, but it somehow involves the string of large numbers he rattles off.

To explain the problem they are supposed to solve would be telling, but we will give one hint. Tangent cover similar thematic ground as James Ward Byrkit’s Coherence (still one of the best science fiction films of the last ten years), but it comes at it from a radically different direction. Of course, Tangent was not wholly improvised, as was the case with Coherence, but it is a Swedish production, filmed entirely in English. Lisa Bearpark is actually Swedish-American and Vee Vimolmal is Thai-Swedish, based in London, but it is still impressively smooth, for a multi-lingual, multi-national effort.

All four do a nice job with their respective characters’ tics and foibles, but Vimolmal probably makes the strongest impression, because Wantana initially appears to be the most socially awkward of the quartet, which is quite a feat in itself. Yet, she arguably emerges as the most human.

Although Engström is credited for the film’s digital effects, there is very little visual wizardry in Tangent, to speak of. Yet, that is our favorite brand of science fiction—the kind that relies on ideas rather spectacle and bombast. Frankly, you could probably stage Engström’s screenplay as a theater play, if you added the judicious use of strobe lights, or some such disruptor.

It runs a mere sixty-five minutes, but Tangent is at least as smart as Coherence, Frequencies, Le Cyclotron, and other standout indie science fiction films of the current decade, if not brainier. It also functions quite effectively as a confined space thriller, albeit one that is unusually conversant in cerebral topics, like the Conformal Cyclic Cosmology (CCC). Highly recommended, Tangent Room releases today on VOD platforms.

Do It Yourself: Going Viral in Greece

There are people out there whose driving ambition is to go viral. Not Alkis Vidalis. He is no genius, but he understands people usually go viral for bad things—painful things. That is especially true of the “if-you’re-watching-this-I-must-be-dead” video he just recorded to clear the name of a very crooked dirty movie mogul. He was supposed to be relocated under a new identity, but Vidalis can tell they intend to fake-it-so-real. Vidalis is no fighter, but he will run, hide, and sneak as best he can in Dimitris Tsilifonis’s Do It Yourself, which releases today on DVD and VOD, from Artsploitation.

Vidalis was a small-time crook nominally associated with Joseph Forkou’s syndicate, which is why a final testament video from him implicating Forkou and clearing Daniel Bezerianos would be convincing. Unfortunately, it would be far more compelling if he were dead. Not being as dumb as he looks, Vidalis continues to play nice with Bezerianos’s production team but he slinks away at the first opportunity. Bezerianos’s dirty video studio is a huge building, so Vidalis hopes to just find a dark corner to hide in, but that will not be realistic. As the cat-and-mouse game escalates, Vidalis invites Forkou’s gang to the party. That might be a bit of an out-of-the-frying-pan kind of strategy, but at least it will shake things up.

Characterization in Do It Yourself is not even an inch deep (and the title doesn’t make much sense), but none of that interests Tsilifonis. Instead, DIY is a super slick exercise in rats-in-a-maze action, fully loaded with narrow escapes, near misses, and darkly comic bloody mayhem, Think of it as vintage Tarantino with tzatziki sauce.

As Vidalis, Konstadinos Aspiotis is hardly an electric presence, but he is credible enough skulking around and getting the snot kicked out of him. Frankly, the real star is cinematographer Angelos Papadopoulos, who gives it all an uber-stylish, Michael Mann-esque high-gloss shine. Editor Lambis Haralambidis also deserves credit for smoothly cutting together all the twists and doubling-back.

Yes, Do It Yourself is a case of style over substance, very much in the way as Tom Twyker’s Run Lola Run, but with more lurid trappings. Tsilifonis keeps the tension cranked up and maintains a bracing pace. It is all just good, cynical fun. Recommended for fans of Die Hard-esque, dude-loose-in-a-building thrillers, Do It Yourself releases today (3/5) on DVD and VOD.

SIFF’s SFF SFF ’19: Hyperlight (short)

Emiliana Newton is in a Gravity-like position, mysteriously drifting in space, but her partner is even worse off. Somehow, it all involves the new faster-than-light space-faring technology they have been tasked with test-driving. Their voyage takes on aspects of Interstellar and The Twilight Zone, yet it all fits within the seventeen minutes of Nguyen-Ahn Nguyen’s Hyperlight, which screens as part of the second session of the Seattle International Film Festival’s Science Fiction& Fantasy Short Film Festival.

Somehow, through some tricky navigation, Newton is able to pilot her lifepod and that of her unconscious crewmate, Philip Maeda back to their ship, the USEF Solis. Of course, Newton has a lot of questions to answer, like just why were they floating in space, but her first priority is to revive the comatose Maeda. Rather complicating matters, the ship’s computer does not acknowledge he is alive, even though Maeda is visibly breathing. Soon (because this is a short), Newton will start to get some answers that hold some decidedly Einstein-worthy implications.

Hyperlight is a wickedly smart sf film that is probably an even richer viewing experience if you read the extensive backstory on the film’s website. Regardless, the big revelation makes perfect sense within the context of the film. It ingeniously exploits big picture concepts, but the cast is also quite strong. It is hard to really describe the chemistry between Newton and Maeda, for spoilery reasons, but Jeananne Goossen and Peter Shinkoda are both terrific portraying them during their cosmically existential crisis. Shinkoda also ought to lend the film extra fan cred, since he has recurred on series like Man in the High Castle, Daredevil, and Falling Skies.

It is pretty amazing to see the level of visual effects a short film like Hyperlight can realize, when the filmmakers sufficiently care. In this case, Nguyen had quite an extensive effects team (the closing credits are pretty long for a short), who produced some absolutely stunning sequences involving the lifepods maneuvering around each other and through space.

Considering how much background worldbuilding Nguyen did for Hyperlight, it would only be fitting if he could expand it into a full-length feature. If this was produced a proof-of-concept film, he has definitely proven he can execute the kind of effects that will do his vision justice, while finding clever science-based twists and turns, to keep things interesting. Highly recommended as a cool science fiction film in its own right. Hyperlight screens this Saturday (3/9) during SIFF’s SFF SFF ‘19.

NYICFF ’19: Double Trouble

Pablo Picasso was so taken with Warsaw in 1948, he painted a very Picasso-like version the city’s mermaid symbol on a wall in a freshly constructed housing complex. Alas, the flat residents convinced the Communist Party philistines to let them paint over it in 1953. Poof, an original Picasso destroyed, except maybe not. The missing Picasso mural serves as the Macguffin in Marta Karwowska’s Double Trouble, which screens as part of the 2019 New York International Children’s Film Festival.

Old people are mean. That seems to be the takeaway from this film, but Julka really isn’t in a position to judge. She has never been particularly social herself. She was supposed to visit her mother and father in Canada during her boarding school’s summer vacation, but she is stuck cooling her heels at her not-so warm and welcoming Aunt’s Warsaw flat, until her parents can be bothered to arrange her tickets.

Initially, she doesn’t think much of Olek (and neither do we), but when thieves steal a set of rare architectural plans from her Aunt’s flat (it was sort of her fault), he is the only person available and willing to help her recover them. As they start nosing around, the kids discover the plans in question were for a now abandoned building that a gang of thieves has been tearing apart looking for a rather unusual treasure: the missing Picasso mermaid. Although presumed destroyed, Julka deduces her Aunt’s parents managed to save it, hiding it someplace in the building now scheduled for demolition.

Unfortunately, they are now in danger from the desperate gang of matronly biddies that have been ransacking the joint. To find the treasure, Julka and Olek (with his fuzzball doggie Meatball) will have to work together, but they are much more inclined to bicker, like a junior version of Tracy and Hepburn.

Double Trouble is a generally okay film, but it definitely skews towards a decidedly younger demographic. This is particularly true of the broad humor and the impossible-to-miss lessons to learn. Frankly, more mature viewers will be disappointed there is not considerably more exploration of the Picasso Mermaid’s backstory, because it is a clever use of some fascinating true-life cultural history.

Hanna Hryniewicka and Jakub Janota-Bzowski are perfectly fine as the two young busybodies, but they were clearly guided towards rather broad, unsubtle performances. That more or less goes for the adults as well. Double Trouble is the sort of film people think of when they hear a term like “children’s movie,” which is fine. However, NYICFF has a history of programming more sophisticated selections, such as Room 213, a ghost story produced for and starring kids that happens to be genuinely scary. Double Trouble cannot compare with it, but neither can 90% of the gory slashers released via VOD with little or no fanfare.

Technically, Double Trouble is quite an over-achiever. Cinematographer Kacper Fertacz and production designer Julia Junosza-Szaniawska make it much more atmospheric than it needs or arguably deserves to be. The older elementary school set should find it diverting, but Double Trouble will not make much impression on parents when it screens again tonight (3/3) and Saturday the 16^th, as part of this year’s NYICFF.

NYICFF ’19: Dilili in Paris

This would be the last period of extended international peace the world has known. In America, it was the “Gilded Age,” in England, the “Pax Britannica,” and in Paris, it was “La Belle Époque.” It was the height of France’s cultural and scientific prestige, so it is a heady time for a young Kanak girl to visit, but not everything is as rosy as the colorful art and fashions suggest. Fortunately, she turns into quite an adept amateur sleuth in Michel Ocelot’s Cesar-Award-winning animated feature Dilili in Paris, which screens during the 2019 New York International Children’s Film Festival.

The Parisian exhibition of Kanak customs might not look so progressive to us, but Dilili was determined to join it, so she could see Paris, even if she had to stowaway on the trans-ocean-liner, which she did. She dutifully does her time in what look like a zoo for people before sauntering off into the city. Frequently, her guide is Orel, a teenaged delivery-boy, who knows everywhere and everyone through his work.

Much to their concern, the cheerful duo gets wind of an ongoing criminal conspiracy perpetrated by the so-called “Master-Men.” They are committing all sorts of felonies, but most alarming has been the rising number of abductions—mostly young girls, but also some women. Naturally, they decide to crack the case, relying on Orel’s insider knowledge and Dilili’s earnest persuasiveness. Their investigation will bring them face to face with many of the era’s giants, including Toulouse-Lautrec, Renoir, Monet, Pasteur, Eifel, Satie, Madame Curie, and Sarah Bernhardt. Celebrated soprano Emma Calvé and anarchist activist Louise Michel will even sign on as their full-fledged partners-in-crime-[fighting].

Ocelot’s story is charming and empowering, making its points subtly rather than through didactic ranting. However, the real reason to see it is Ocelot’s stunning animation. He is a genuine virtuoso, but his recent Tales of the Night films, conceived and executed an homages to Lotte Reiniger’s cut-out style animation, feel like they were a little too easy for the maestro. With Dilili, he dives deep into his bag of tricks, combining the richly ornate detail of Azur & Asmar with photorealistic backdrops. In one remarkable scene, Ocelot perfectly renders Dilili’s reflection in a polished marble ornament—not because the narrative required it, but just for fun.

In fact, the intricate design elements of art nouveau are perfectly suited to Ocelot’s strengths as an animated filmmaker. He was clearly inspired by the art, fashion, and architecture of the period. Nearly every scene is a dazzler, often filled with sly visual references to famous works of art from the era. Plus, Gabriel Yared’s classy score further solidifies the elegant ambiance. Still, there is one thing. Nothing untoward ever happens, not even remotely, but Dilili is probably around six or seven years-old, whereas Orel is probably eighteen or so, which leads to some awkward visuals.

So, okay, whatever. The important point is how striking and sophisticated the animation is. Sequence after sequence proves Ocelot is master filmmaker, working at the peak of his abilities. It is a lovely piece of work, with a light and frothy spirit that goes down smoothly, like whatever they are drinking in Montmartre. Highly recommended for fans of highbrow animation, Dilili in Paris screens again this morning (3/2), next Saturday (3/9), and Sunday the 17^th, as part of this year’s NYICFF.

Smaller and Smaller Circles: Jesuits Investigate

Father Augusto Saenz has the crime fighting talent of Father Brown and the social conscience of Father Greeley, but alas, neither is particularly good for his career as a Jesuit. Fortunately, he works for a higher power. Saenz and his colleague, Father Jerome Lucero, are more than willing to consult with the police, but they are not so good at navigating the politics that go with civil service in Raya Martin’s Smaller and Smaller Circles, which opens today in Los Angeles.

Father Saenz is one of the few priests who has his own crime lab, but his righteous compulsion to speak out against predatory priests will jeopardize its continued funding. Frankly, it was Saenz who deduced there was a serial killer loose in the first place, so it makes sense for him to join the investigation. However, the corrupt prosecutor is not thrilled having him on board.

It is clear an unknown perp has been murdering young boys from Payatas, one of Metro Manila’s most distressed neighborhoods, at odd intervals. The strange timing of the killings might hold an important clue. Unfortunately, Father Saenz is the only one smart enough to figure it out, but he will be pulled of the case due to politics.

We had a genuinely hostile reaction to Martin's disturbingly cruel How to Disappear Completely, but fortunately he redeems himself with the much more accessible and humanistic Circles. Its general plotline is not wildly original, but it still functions quite effectively as a procedural. However, the real strength of the film is its characterization. Father Saenz in particular is quite a compelling figure, especially with respects to his mentoring relationships with Father Lucero and a foreign journalist. The two priests also relate to their Catholic faith and the Church's policies in ways that are critical and complicated, without indulging in cheap shots or sock-puppetry.

Veteran actor Nonie Buencamino is terrific as Saenz. He is intensely driven and a bit like Cumberbatch’s Sherlock in terms of his awkward social graces, but Buencamino also fully conveys his forgiveness and charity. Sid Lucero nicely plays against type as the studious (and celibate) Father Lucero, while Raffy Tejada is flamboyantly slimy as Atty. Arcinas.

Martin maintains a tight, tense noir vibe, heightened by J.A. Tadena’s eerie cinematography. His pacing is deliberate, but never slack or sluggish. All in all, it is a distinctively brooding thriller. Recommended for fans of dark and morally complex serial killer films, Smaller and Smaller Circles (admittedly not a great title) opens today (3/1) in Los Angeles, at the Laemmle Glendale.

Into the Dark: Treehouse

Peter Rake acts like Gordon Ramsay when he films his cooking show and he behaves like Harvey Weinstein when [mis]conducting the rest of his business. He is definitely a jerkheel, who is cruising for an EC Comics-style bruising in James Roday’s Treehouse, the Ides of March installment of Blumhouse’s monthly anthology series, Into the Dark, which premieres today on Hulu.

It has been a longtime since Rake has visited his family home (where there is indeed a tree house on the sprawling grounds), but he has returned, so he can lay low, while his lawyer settles his most recent harassment suit. He is not so psyched to be back, until he meets the bachelorette party staying nearby. He intends to woo them with a fancy dinner, but his excessive drinking and natural obnoxiousness nearly sabotage his plans. Yet, the women stick around anyway. In fact, they seem to know him better than he realizes and they have plans of their own: the payback kind. They might even have supernatural means to accomplish them.

Presumably, Treehouse was conceived as the #metoo edition of Into the Dark, but the execution is decidedly questionable. On one hand, most viewers will find themselves identifying with Rake, regardless of their biases, because the film shows events unfolding from his perspective, including some harrowing acts of torture perpetrated by the mystery women. However, if Rake did half the things he is accused of—and he never persuasively denies anything—than he gets off appallingly easy, all things considered.

Despite the tonal misfires, Jimmi Simpson shows great range and commitment as the sleazy Rake. Julianna Guill, Sophia Del Pizzo, and Stephanie Beatriz have their moments as the avenging women, but Nancy Linehan Charles upstages everyone as Agnes, the tart-tongued, judgmental family servant. She chews the scenery and her wonderfully caustic lines with relish.

Roday does a decent job building suspense and paranoia, but he lets it all deflate with a mediocre ending. It bears direct comparison to Sophia Takal’s New Year, New You in several ways, but the New Year’s edition was far better. Anyone interested in a genre take on the issues #metoo phenomenon will also find Natalia Leite’s MFA much more compelling. Only for series completists, Into the Dark: Treehouse starts streaming today (3/1) on Hulu.

Gaspar Noe’s Climax

These kids are not alright. You’re not too old. Their music is too loud and their drugs are too potent. To be fair, most of the contraband consumed this night was done so involuntarily. Someone spiked the sangria with some unusually strong LSD, turning their rehearsal party into an urban Francophone Lord of the Flies. Brace yourself, because Gaspar Noé has returned to assault viewers’ senses yet again with Climax, which opens today in New York.

It was sort of a rehearsal for these dancers chosen to represent France in an American competition, but anytime they get together there will be sexual tension. The opening number is actually pretty impressive (it was actually choreographed), but from there on out, everyone free dances. All vestiges of social order also start to breakdown when they realize how badly they have been dosed. Initially, they suspect Emmanuelle, because she brought the sangria, but the unruly troupe backs down when they realize she drank too and is now in the same boat. Rather disturbingly, so has her young son Tito. They will turn their rage on two more troupe members, including Lou, who claims she did not imbibe, because she is pregnant. At this point, things really get ugly.

Climax is a total Gaspar Noé film. If that doesn’t mean anything to you, then you should probably avoid it at all costs. Noé has always put the extreme in the New French Extremity, so expect some lurid, shocking stuff. Not to be spoilery, but bad things befall children and pregnant women in Climax. He also revisits one of his favorite themes—incest—albeit almost as an afterthought.

Ironically, Climax could inadvertently serve as an explosive critique of multiculturalism. The dancers are mostly the children of immigrants, of a variety of ethnicities, spanning the entire spectrum of sexual identities. Alas, when their ids are unleashed, they become violent and hateful. It is almost like the ghost of old man Le Pen hovers over the film, whispering “I told you so.”

On a technical level, Climax is quite impressive. Noé’s long takes and restless camera work are quite effective, bordering on the hypnotic. This really isn’t an actor’s showcase. Sofia Boutella is the only established thesp. The rest of the ensemble are professional dancers. However, they are all quite convincing going stark raving mad.

During Enter the Void, Noé essentially approximated the visual and emotional sensations of a bad trip. In Climax, he forces us to witness the maelstrom of bedlam from the claustrophobic perspective of an undrugged bystander, presumably like Lou. It certainly is a memorable experience—memorably unpleasant, but undoubtedly Noé would consider any such visceral response to be a success.

Honestly, your intrepid online film critic just wanted to take a shower after it was over—and not from working up a sweat getting down to the vintage house and electronica music. By this point, you should know full well whether Climax is a film for you or not, so inhale or shun accordingly when it opens today (3/1) in New York, at the Angelika Film Center.