BFF ’12: [s]comparse

This is not a “making of” behind-the-scenes documentary.  It is an examination of several culture clashes.  When Emanuele Crialese’s crew went to the Mediterranean island of Linosa to shoot the immigration drama Terraferma, they hired many real life refugees from North African to relive their experiences as extras on the production.  Rather than produce a publicity film, Antonio Tibaldi scrupulously captured their ironic experiences in [s]comparse (trailer here), the recent winner of the Spirit Award in the documentary category at the 2012 Brooklyn Film Festival.

Selected by Italy as its most recent foreign language Oscar submission, Terraferma is not a bad film that has had a fair amount of festival play (including this year’s San Francisco International Film Festival).  Though it bemoans the laws forbidding citizens from sailing to the rescue of drowning would-be illegal immigrants, its primary characters are all native Italians.  This fact is not lost on Terraferma’s North African cast-members.

While the treatment of refugees is the driving issue of [s]comparse, the film crew’s hypocrisy is never papered over.  Not so shockingly, wages are a contentious issue and the concept of withholding tax comes as a rather unpleasant surprise to the somewhat disgruntled extras.  Though not always enlightened in their attitudes, local islanders also start to feel the demanding film crew is abusing their hospitality.

Aside from some interviews with the migrant actors, [s]comparse is a quiet, fly-on-the-beach observational-style documentary.  Linosa still looks like a beautiful place to visit, but the graveyard of stripped-down boats, abandoned on the shore by those fortunate enough not to be swallowed-up by the sea, clearly testifies to the magnitude of the situation.

To an extent, [s]comparse cuts both ways, openly siding with the global downtrodden and distressed, but also highlighting the self-serving pretenses of a film ostensibly advocating on their behalf.  Of course, it is easier to pick up on the latter if you have actually seen Terraferma.  It would be fascinating to watch them programmed together at a festival, but that is probably not likely to happen. 

To his credit, Tibaldi never belabors his points, wrapping it all up in just over an hour.  Sure to find its niche on the festival circuit as Terraferma develops its own, [s]comparse is easily recommended for followers of Italian cinema and international refugee issues.

BFF ’12: Old Dog

In news of yet more outrageous but hardly surprising interference in Tibetan affairs, China has just announced an open-ended ban on foreign tourism to the occupied country.  However, friends and admirers of the Himalayan nation can still get a glimpse into the on-the-ground realities there through Pema Tseden’s narrative feature Old Dog (trailer here), which screens tonight at the Brooklyn Heights Cinema, as part of the 2012 BrooklynFilm Festival.

Not content with Tibet’s sovereignty, China also covets its dogs.  For the Chinese nouveau riche, nomad mastiffs are the newest status symbol.  It is a seller’s market, assuming unscrupulous dog merchants do not steal the traditional family canines first.  Dog-nappings are so pervasive, Gonpo figures he might as well sell his father-in-law Akku’s beloved pet and at least get some money for him.  Akku does not see it that way, enlisting the help of his a local copper kinsman to retrieve the shaggy pooch.  Unfortunately, the dog brokers are not about to forget about so prized a pooch.

If Jia Zhangke remade Old Yeller, it might look something like Old Dog.  Helmed by Tibetan auteur Pema Tseden (a.k.a. Wanma Caidan when he is in China), it is a slight departure for distributor dGenerate Films, the independent Chinese cinema specialists.  However, Tseden’s naturalistic documentary-like approach is quite in line with the Digital Generation style for which they are named.  He and cinematographer Sonthar Gyal capture the sweeping grandeur of the landscape, as well as the hardscrabble nature of life for Tibetans, both in cities and in the countryside.  It is also clear the last fifty-three years have been devastating for contemporary Tibetan architecture.

Amongst a cast clearly at home on the Tibetan Steppe, Lochey gives a remarkably assured performance as Akku.  Deeply human and humane, his character bears witness to the steady corrosion of traditional Tibetan values, but he does not necessarily do so silently.  Drolma Kyab’s performance as the hash-up son-in-law Gonpo is also quite honest and engaging.  Indeed, the small ensemble is so completely unaffected and natural on-screen, Old Dog could easily pass for a documentary.  Yet, it has a very real dramatic arc.

Already the focus of a career retrospective at the Asia Society (amounting to two films at the time), Tseden is a filmmaker of international stature.  Taking some subtly implied but recognizable jabs at Chinese hegemony over Tibet, Old Dog is his boldest film yet.  Cineastes will earnestly hope there will be more to follow.  Quietly powerful, Old Dog is highly recommended during this year’s BFF.  It screens tonight (6/8) at the Brooklyn Heights Cinema, with Tseden appearing for Q&A afterward, as well as this Saturday (6/9) at IndieScreen in Williamsburg.

BFF ’12: Labyrinth

Turkey is still the modern, secular republic founded by Ataturk, but there are those who would like to turn back the clock.  Nobody understands that better than the agents of Turkey’s counter-terrorist agency.  They will risk their lives to thwart a violent group of Islamist fanatics in Tolga Örnek’s Labyrinth (trailer here), which screens during the 2012 Brooklyn Film Festival.

A horrific homicidal suicide bombing has murdered 95 innocent souls, including thirty Americans and five Brits.  Unfortunately, the shadowy mastermind (who never delivers the bombs himself, mind you) is working on a more ambitious attack.  For Fikret, the moody Turkish Jack Bauer, it is not just an assignment, it is personal.  He is out to avenge the partner kidnapped and presumably murdered by the newly resurfaced terrorist ringleader.

Fikret has one ace card in his hand.  He has been running a confidential informative more-or-less off the books, whose brother has fallen in with the elusive terror cell.  He only trusts Rasim’s identity with his loyal colleague (and prospective romantic interest), Reyhan.  A valuable source, Rasim is coveted by British intelligence, who offer information on Fikret’s missing partner in return for the mystery source.  The proposition is not appreciated.

Frankly, the tension between the Turkish and British security services never escalates beyond trash talking.  In point of fact, Labyrinth is a refreshing corrective to the notoriously anti-American and anti-Semitic Valley of the Wolves: Iraq, the Turkish Islamist agit-prop film co-starring Gary Busey and Billy Zane.  Here, it is the Islamists who are explicitly identified as the terrorists, freely murdering their own more moderate co-religionists for the sake of their extreme agenda.  Of course, their preferred target is Turkey’s Jewish community.  They even use inconvenient terms such as “the caliphate” in the pre-bombing videotapes.  The American military only appears in passing, productively collaborating with their Turkish counterparts on a mission in Northern Iraq.

While there are some moments of inspired movie violence, Labyrinth is more cerebral than action-oriented.  As Fikret, Timuçin Esen power broods like nobody’s business, while also developing some nice chemistry Meltem Cumbul’s smart and mature Reyhan.  They make it clear they care about each other in ambiguous ways, without ripping their clothes off.  As for their quarry, the effective supporting ensemble is flat-out chilling when portraying the face of Islamist terror.

We could be proud of Hollywood if it finally tackled terrorism with a film like Labyrinth.  That it was produced in Turkey is downright shocking, in a good way. Engrossing and tragically realistic, Labyrinth is a standout selection of this year’s BFF.  Highly recommended, it screens again this Sunday (6/10) at IndieScreen in Williamsburg.

BFF ’12: Pyrammmid

Only Russia could celebrate a Ponzi scheme con artist as a national hero.  It’s a complicated place.  Transparently based on Sergei Mavrodi, the Russian Madoff, a bizarre episode of post-Soviet economic history is only slightly exaggerated in Eldar Salavatov’s Pyrammmid (trailer here), which screens during the 2012 Brooklyn Film Festival.

Mavrodi’s dodgy financial empire was also known as MMM and its commercials promising forty percent returns on investment were a constant presence on Russian television during its heyday.  Many Russians blamed its inevitable collapse on the government thanks to conspiracy theories no doubt nurtured by Mavrodi.  However, the fictional Sergey Mamontov’s MMM really is the target of the corrupt national government and their oligarchic allies.  Understand Mamontov is no mere charlatan.  He is scamming all that money in order to preserve Russian ownership of the old state-owned enterprises being sold to the well-connected at fire-sale prices through the dubious privatization process.  Well, that’s Pyrammmid’s story and its sticking to it.

It gets quite complicated though.  Raking in cash, Mamontov plans a fatal run on his major banking rival, while getting involved in weird sidelines, like buying the major Russian beauty pageant.  Most of those distractions are the brainchild of maverick mathematician Anton who loses sight of the big picture.  Frankly, the film is a bit overstuffed with plot, sacrificing the dead weight of transitions to fit it all in.  As a result, audiences watching it in subtitles really have to keep on their toes.

Reportedly, Pyrammmid is based on an unpublished manuscript by Mavrodi, which must be considered either a novel or a memoir, depending on whether or not you happen to be Sergei Mavrodi.  Ideologically, it is a bit of a head-scratcher, unambiguously lionizing exactly the sort of financial plunderer the current regime made its name inveighing against.  Still, the symbolic significance of Mamontov’s choice of car is hard to miss: a vintage Soviet Chaika sedan.  In fact, the film has nothing to say regarding the lack of consequences faced by the oppressive former Communist hardliners.  Indeed, that refusal to account for the past has led the country precisely where it is now.  The presence of Putin favorite Nikita Mikhalkov’s son Artyom and daughter Anna Mikhalkova in the ensemble cast further muddies the waters.

Having played more traditionally action-oriented protagonists in previous films (such as the Da Vinci Code-ish Golden Mean), Alexey Serebryakov is surprisingly convincing as the owlish Mamontov (those specs are another Mavrodi trademark).  Unfortunately, he is largely surrounded by stock characters existing simply to serve the plot, like Gutov the shifty lawyer and Vera the ambitious muckraking photojournalist.

Frankly, the fact that this movie exists is downright mind-blowing.  Imagine a slick, big budget American film positioning Bernie Madoff as a misunderstood hero, whom we should give good money to, for the sake of the country.  That is about how Pyrammmid shakes out.  It is a fast-moving big-canvas conspiracy thriller that does not always make a whole lot of sense.  Yet, it is more stylistically grounded than the thematically related Generation P.  Flawed but fascinating for Russia watchers, it screens again this Wednesday (5/6) at IndieScreen as part of this year’s Brooklyn Film Festival.

BFF ’12: Rose

The war is over, but for many Polish women, it is hard to call the aftermath “peace.”  This is especially true for the ethnic German Masurians, formerly of eastern Prussia, like Rose Kwiatkowska.  Though Poland has been “liberated,” they are constantly reminded “their side” lost, and are treated as treasonous pariahs, accordingly.  Yet, Kwiatkowska’s situation is especially dire, as a mysterious Polish veteran slowly discovers in Wojtek Smarzowski’s uncompromising Rose (trailer here), which opened the 2012 Brooklyn Film Festival last night at the Brooklyn Heights Cinema.

Tadeusz Mazur is a world-weary Home Army veteran, who witnessed things during the Warsaw Uprising no man could forget.  He watched as his wife was raped and murdered by the rampaging National Socialists and was also present during the death of Kwiatkowska’s husband.  She is not exactly welcoming when he turns up to deliver some of her husband’s effects, yet a bond slowly forms between them.  Kwiatkowska needs protection from the Soviet-aligned bandits, literally raping and pillaging the Masurian countryside.  She could also use his help clearing the landmines from her fields, so they can harvest the potatoes.  As for Mazur, he has his reasons to lay low, hoping not to attract the attention of the NKVD.  However, Masuria is not the best place to be to avoid trouble.

Michał Szczerbic’s screenplay is brutally direct and honest about the treatment of women during wartime, by the Germans, the Soviets, and their minions (indeed, they all seem to blend together throughout the film).  The sheer volume of sexual assaults in Smarzowski’s historical drama is overwhelming, but they are never treated in a lurid or sensationalized fashion.  Rather, it is a harrowing depiction of an ugly period of institutionalized score-settling.

Yet, incredibly, Rose is a fundamentally a love story, sensitively bringing to life the brief but intense relationship that develops between Kwiatkowska and Mazur.  There are no cute courtship rituals or romantic contrivances.  They simply fall in love (or something near enough to it), while banding together to survive.  It is definitely not pretty, but in a way, it is kind of beautiful.

Marcin Dorociński is riveting as Mazur, portraying him as both a flinty man of action and a tragic romantic hero.  It is a bit surprising how thoroughly he dominates the film (since it is called Rose), but he does.  Agata Kulesza is also quite haunting as Kiatkowska, creating a profile of herculean endurance.  Their scenes together are quite special.

Despite somewhat rushing the third act (which features a few “wait, he did what?” moments), Smarzowski (previously represented at BFF with the gritty Martial Law-era noir TheDark House) deftly helms Rose, capturing the sweep of terrible historical forces, but maintaining an intimate focus.  He forces viewers to confront the nature of the crimes committed against Kiatkowska and other Masurian women, up close and personal.  Polish free jazz bass clarinetist Mikołaj Trzaska’s eerie minimalist score also heightens the unsettling mood.  Rose can be tough to watch, but it is an excellent film.  Highly recommended, it screens again this coming Thursday (6/7) at IndieScreen, as part of this year’s Brooklyn Film Festival.