Martyrs Gets a Blumhouse Remake

You know young Lucie has had a hard time of it when a Catholic orphanage feels like a sanctuary. You can also guess her original film is some tough stuff when fans wonder if a company like Blumhouse can handle remaking it. Pascal Laugier’s 2008 cult favorite isn’t considered a leading example of the New French Extremity movement for nothing. Some of the roughest, most jagged edges have been sanded down a tad, but the faint of heart, stomach, or aesthetic sensibilities should be duly warned when the Goetz Brothers’ Martyrs (trailer here) opens tomorrow in select theaters.

Somehow twelve year-old Lucie escaped from the warehouse horror chamber where an evil cabal kept her prisoner. However, the memories of the brutal captivity continue to torment her. They seem to manifest themselves in hallucinations of demonic monster. Nevertheless, the good-hearted Anna befriends the terrified girl. They remain friends into adulthood, even though Lucie never really “gets over it.”

Believing she has tracked down one of the men responsible for her ordeal, Lucie arranges to meet Anna at his secluded home for a confrontation. However, Lucie executes Dr. Patterson and his family before she arrives. Finding her friend in a state of psychotic delirium, Anna assumes the worst. Yet, just as she is about to call the law, she stumbles across profoundly disturbing proof that more than vindicates Lucie. From there, things get extremely dark very quickly.

Laugier’s Martyrs is not quite as soul-deadening Srdjan Spasojevic’s beyond-the-pale debut, but it is definitely on the extreme side of the spectrum. They might be controversial with fans, but screenwriter Mark L. Smith’s moderating alterations will make it go down easier for ninety-nine percent of horror fans. As the title indicates, both films use Christian concepts in rather problematic, fast-and-loose ways, but for faith-based audiences that should be the least of their worries.

Still, for seasoned horror fans who do not carry baggage from Laugier’s original, it is a pretty slick, undeniably dark package. Troian Bellisario and Bailey Noble are quite convincing as Lucie and Anna in their various states of insanity and duress. The same is true of Ever Prishkulnik and Elyse Cole as their younger selves. However, Kate Burton (Richard Burton’s daughter) really throws down the gauntlet, so to speak, as the sinister leader of the shadowy cult.

Frankly, sensitive readers should have checked out long ago. By genre standards, it is quite well designed and assembled, particularly the Patterson home and everything attached to it. The Goetz Brothers’ version is probably doomed to failure, since the core audience will have such strong opinions on Laugier’s film, but it is better than you are likely to hear. It is hard to precisely identify the audience to recommend it for, but presumably you know who you are, so be advised it opens tomorrow (1/22) in targeted theaters and on iTunes.

NYJFF ’16: Carvalho’s Journey

The Wasatch Mountains punished the Donner Party (before the Sierra Nevadas finished the job) and they nearly did in John C. Frémont’s fourth westward expedition. However, Solomon Nunes Carvalho would survive to tell the tale. He also brought back the closest thing to photographic evidence—nearly three hundred daguerreotype plates that are now sadly lost. Their grueling trek is chronicled in Steve Rivo’s Carvalho’s Journey (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Carvalho hailed from Charleston, the largest Jewish American population center in Nineteenth Century America. He was from a prominent family, but he chose to pursue an artistic career and the scuffling that went with it. Trained as a painter and portraitist, he moved in daguerreotype-making in hopes of better supporting his family. Carvalho was an unlikely explorer, but his daguerreotypes would provide Frémont the visuals he desired to support his westward evangelism.

Through an unfortunate twist of fate, all but one of those daguerreotypes were lost, but contemporary daguerreotypist Robert Shlaer has adopted the recreation of Carvalho’s plates as his calling. Viewers will indeed learn a heck of a luck about the daguerreotype process from Journey, but it is bizarrely fascinating. It is truly a lost art in itself.

Yet, there is considerably more to Journey. Frankly, Carvalho might just be the quintessential American self-re-inventor, in his own way. There is no question he was a rather nebbish easterner, yet he apparently won over all the manly adventurers of Frémont’s party. Essentially, he bought into Frémont’s Manifest Destiny vision, but he also developed bonds of friendship with the marginalized Native Americans and the oppressed and vilified Mormons whom he met during his epic travels.

We conveniently forget the relentless demonization of Mormons in Missouri and Illinois that culminated in their forced expulsion. Of course, the media today bends over backward to treat the LDS evenhandedly and respectfully. Yep, you betcha. Nevertheless, Journey is a refreshing antidote to many less edifying clichés you will still find in the legacy press.

Carvalho is a remarkable historical figure and Rivo really does him justice by fully capturing the complexity of his era and the drama of his life. Hopefully, Rivo’s film (eventually destined for PBS) will lead to renewed popular interest in Carvalho as an artist and memoirist. It will also greatly expand receptive audiences’ conception of mid-Nineteenth Century American history, especially from Jewish and Mormon perspectives. Highly recommended, Carvalho’s Journey screens twice this coming Monday (1/25) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

Ip Man 3: Donnie Yen Returns

Ip Man is like James Bond. Viewers could debate for hours which actor best brought them to life. Wong Kar Wai’s The Grandmaster represents the character’s artistic high-water mark, sort of making it the Ip Man Skyfall, aptly featuring “Little” Tony Leung’s romantic brooding in the Daniel Craig tradition. Anthony Wong was the oldest Master IP, so he must be Roger Moore. Yet, for real fans, nobody fit more comfortably in the role than Donnie Yen, the Connery-like original article. Reportedly, Yen was done with the franchise after his second outing, but never say never. In one of the most eagerly awaited films of the year (even though its only January) Yen once again serves as the Wing Chun standard-bearer in Wilson Yip’s Ip Man 3 (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Much like the old days in Fushan, Master Ip is the universally respected dean of Hong Kong martial arts instructors. He is a bit older now, but his skills remain undiminished. Yet, his traditional garb and self-effacing modesty are at odds with the increasingly jaded tenor of the times. Gangsters even want to grab the land currently occupied by the school Master Ip’s youngest son attends.

Of course, Ip Man is not going to idly watch as the principle and teachers are bullied by thugs. Initially, Master Ip forges an alliance with Cheung Tin-chi, who is also a highly skilled Wing Chun practitioner. However, the covetous Cheung will become a rival for the title of “Grandmaster.” It is all very inconvenient for Master Ip, especially when his beloved wife Cheung Wing-sing’s health starts to fail.

Donnie Yen is one of the most charismatic movie stars in the world today, but from time to time, he will bail on everything but the action scenes when a film doesn’t come together as he might have hoped. However, Ip Man has always brought out the very best in him and the third time is no exception. In fact, it really is something of a charm.

In some ways, Ip Man 3 is closer to the gritty street level action of the early HK films starring the Master’s most famous disciple, Bruce Lee. Over the course of the film, Master Ip will face off against hundreds of tire iron and lug-wrench wielding ruffians. As fans would hope and expect, Yun Woo-ping’s action choreography is wildly cinematic. Donnie Yen is also still the man when it comes to martial arts beatdowns. Yet, rather strangely, the big showdown everyone is looking forward to comes relatively early, around the end of the second act.

Ultimately, it does not matter, because Yen and Lynn Xiong (Hung) are so darned good together as Master and the ever patient Cheung. Xiong easily gets her most dramatic scenes of the Yip-directed trilogy and she makes the most of it with her scrupulously restrained but achingly dignified performance. Iron Mike Tyson also shows some respectable villain chops as Frank, a mobbed-up land developer with a ridiculous facial tattoo. Right, as if anyone could walk around with something like that on their mug.

Like all franchises that really click, we feel like we have been through a lot with Yen’s Master Ip and his family. As a result, Ip Man 3 might just choke fans up, but in a deeply satisfying way. The action duly delivers, but is its grace that really surprises. Very highly recommended, Ip Man 3 opens this Friday (1/21) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Rabid Dogs: The French Canadian Bava Remake

For years, Mario Bava’s roughie kidnapping thriller was bottled-up unseen in court due to insolvency and estate issues. Some staid bankruptcy judge must have really gotten an eyeful if he ever had to watch it. The sexual violence is toned down, but human nature is just as sinister in Éric Hannezo’s French Canadian remake of Rabid Dogs (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Although he was indelibly associated with the genre, Bava’s Rabid Dogs was not a Giallo, per se. However, Hannezo certainly gets his Giallo money’s worth during the throwback opening credit sequence. Four armed robbers have executed a daring daylight bank heist, but there will soon be only three of them. With their getaway plans in disarray, the bandits take two hostages, but they will quickly be left with only one. However, the elegant married woman is certainly an effective bargaining chip. The cops back off after the accidental death of the first hostage, allowing the criminals to slip out of the commercial district. Unfortunately, their escape involves further hostage taking.

The poor carjacked father was taking his daughter to the hospital for a long-awaited transplant. Still, he is pretty cool under pressure, all things considered, but he is played by Lambert Wilson, so it rather follows. Blessedly, her medication should keep her zonked out throughout the ordeal. In the short term, the creepy Vincent’s rapey fascination with the woman hostage will cause most of the problems. Sabri, their new de facto leader will try to restrain him, but the woman is clearly looking to bolt at the first opportunity.

For those familiar with the original, Hannezo and co-screenwriters Benjamin Rataud and Yannick Dahan dispense with the hitchhiker sequence, which sure lightens it the heck up. However, they add a really weird “Burning Man”-style gathering, as Ben Wheatley might re-conceive it.

In addition to their famous names and class value, Wilson and Virginie Ledoyen add plenty of brooding tension to the film. Ledoyen elevates the woman beyond typical victims, emphasizing her proactive assertiveness. (The film is still a far cry from a feminist manifesto, but what can we expect, given its exploitation lineage.) Guillaume Gouix, Franck Gastambide, and François Arnaud all lose their cool quite spectacularly as the robbers. However, cult film fans might not realize that is Alleluia’s Laurent Lucas as the ringleader, since he dons the gang’s intimidating, vaguely S&M looking motorcycle helmet for most of his scenes.

Rabid Dogs is not for those like their mysteries cozy and their endings neat and pat. This is a messy film in just about every respect and it packs a mean punch. For those who feels like stepping over to the dark side, it is a lot of twisted, anti-social fun. Recommended with enthusiasm for connoisseurs of gritty, nervy genre fare, Rabid Dogs opens this Friday (1/21) in New York, at the IFC Center.

NYJFF ’16: The Rifleman’s Violin (short)

Even by the standards of a professional musician, Stuart Canin’s timing has been impeccable. As a young G.I., he arrived in Europe just as the Germans began to recognize their inevitable defeat. He also had the presence of mind or naïve optimism to bring his violin with him. Transferred into a morale-boosting entertainment unit, Canin found himself playing for the big three at the Potsdam Conference. Canin looks back at the historic command performance in Sam Ball’s fascinating short documentary, The Rifleman’s Violin (trailer here), which proceeds a special performance of the Potsdam concert at the 2016 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Produced in conjunction with the prestigious Hoover Institution’s Potsdam Revisited educational and multimedia project, Rifleman documents one of the more edifying footnotes to a pivotal juncture in Twentieth Century history. Canin expected to fight, but instead he staged performances in military hospitals and as part of outreach campaigns to the local population. He quickly forged a rapport with concert pianist Eugene List. One of their specialties was Manuel de Falla’s “La Vie Breve” or as Canin redubbed it: “The Infantryman’s Theme Song.” When the contemporary Canin plays it in Rifleman, it is clear the violinist still owns the three minute piece, so patrons who attend the concert are in for a real treat.

Canin’s brush with titans is rather mind-blowing, but there is more to Rifleman than that. Throughout the film, Canin modestly drops nuggets of wisdom that will have great resonance for aspiring musicians and music lovers alike. Canin was concertmaster for elite ensembles like the San Francisco Symphony, but he learned how to put together an accessible concert set for general audiences while playing for Uncle Sam. Yet, much of his advice boils down to “if it means something to you, keep your violin with you.”

Rifleman is a terrific short (fourteen minute) documentary and the concert of the Potsdam program, featuring Thomas Sauer on piano, is sure to be incredible. The intriguing details Ball captures should also whet viewers’ appetites for more films from the Potsdam Revisited project. Highly recommended, The Rifleman’s Violin screens this Sunday afternoon (1/24) at the Walter Reade, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

JeruZalem: Found Footage in the Old City

There is an evil horde of mindless killers bearing down on the Old City of Jerusalem, hell-bent on destruction. That could be any old Tuesday, except in this case, the rage-fueled monsters are supernatural. It turns out everyone who succumbed to Jerusalem Syndrome was right all along. The city has a connection to an ancient malevolent force that will manifest itself in apocalyptic fashion during the course of the Paz Brothers’ JeruZalem (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Sarah and her rather less reserved bestie Rachel have come to Tel Aviv for some clubbing and a bit of fun in the sun. Sarah could use the break. She and her sad-eyed father are still mourning the death of her older brother. Before leaving, he gives her a set of internet connected eyeglasses that we should not automatically assume to be google glass. Inconveniently, her purse with her regular specs is swiped shortly after their arrival, thereby forcing her to wear her geek lens (credibly explaining why so much of the film will be duly recorded).

Instead of immediately hitting the beach, Kevin, the young hipster archaeologist on their flight convinces the women to take a detour to Jerusalem with him. At first, everything seems cool at their impossibly Bohemian hostile. Most conveniently, the Arab Israeli owner’s hard partying son knows where to score the best dope and hear the best music. Yet, there are signs here and there of something sinister stirring.

Suddenly, Kevin seems to contract a particular potent case of Jerusalem Syndrome. However, shortly after he is trundled off to the nearby asylum, throngs of winged demons attack the Old City. They are the spitting image of the creature seen in the exorcism prologue (a tape supposedly recovered from the Vatican archive). To make matters worse, their bite is apparently contagious, just like that of zombies.

There have been a lot of found footage horror films, but what really distinguishes JeruZalem is its heavy backstory and the eerily evocative use of Old City backdrops (shot guerilla-style by the Pazes). We are told in the opening preamble there are three doors to Hell, one in the ocean, one in the desert, and one in Jerusalem, which sounds unsettlingly plausible. The ostensive Vatican footage is also wickedly creepy.

Frankly, the first ten minutes are so scary, the Pazes really slow down for the rest of the first act to fully establish their three main characters. It is a strategy that ultimately pays off. Despite their conspicuous flaws, the audience actually emotionally invests in Kevin, Rachel, Sarah, and her skyping father far more than usual when it comes to the found footage sub-genre.

While the rarely seen Danielle Jadelyn and the American accent-challenged Yon Tumarkin are hit-and-miss as Sarah and Kevin, Yael Grobglas (also memorable in Rabies) absolutely shines as Rachel. Flirty and funny without descending into shtick, she demonstrates real megawatt star power.

The Brothers Paz prove the mere sight of some Old City back alleyways at night is plenty creepy, even without monsters. Together with cinematographer Rotem Yaron, they really capture the city’s ominous nocturnal atmosphere. Highly recommended for fans of found footage and demonic horror, JeruZalem opens this Friday (1/22) in LA at Laemmle's Ahrya Fine Arts and next Friday (1/29) in New York at Cinema Village.

Monster Hunt: China’s Top Grossing Film of All-Time

As the age of legends comes to a close, veterans of the Monster Hunt Bureau are facing some pretty severe structural unemployment. They have just been too good at their job, but when a civil war in the monster realms spills over into the human world, their skills will be needed again. However, choosing sides will be trickier than they imagine in Raman Hui’s CGI-live action Chinese blockbuster, Monster Hunt (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York with both subtitled and dubbed screenings.

Song Tianyin is not much, but his absentee palace swordsman father still set him up as the mayor of their provincial village. He is about to be swept up into the monster’s civil strife when junior monster hunter Huo Xiaolan tracks two monsters in disguise to Song’s inn. Zhugao and Fat Ying are desperately protecting the pregnant queen, whose unborn baby is some sort of prophesized Jedi-Matrix Chosen One. The evil monster rebels have followed her into the human lands to end their royal line—and they are really big.

Although Huo initially captures Zhugao and Fat Ying, they manage to wriggle away, but she knows they will not get far. Since the Monster Queen was able to transfer her unborn baby to Song, Huo knows they will always be close by. Huo convinces Song to carry the baby, despite his understandable gender-role confusion, so they can sell him to a dealer. Evidently, monster babies are quite a delicacy. Yet, when the little “radish” springs into the world, they inevitably cannot stop themselves from getting emotionally attached.

So why can’t humans and monsters live together Alan Yuen asks us with his heavy-handed script. Maybe because those big marauding beasts really seem pretty darned dangerous. Nevertheless, the little radish is rather cute. Hui, who co-directed Shrek the Third, gives the monsters a good deal of personality, specifically tailoring them for the Chinese-centric market. It is easy to see why little boys would flock to Monster Hunt, even though it is somewhat more bittersweet than most mainstream American animated films. Of course, some of that is necessitated by the set-up for the sequel already in production.

Bai Baihe’s freshly minted superstar status is largely due to her breakout work in Hunt. She is indeed slyly engaging as Huo, especially in her scenes with older rival Luo Gang, nicely played Jiang Wu, who manages to maintain his hardboiled gravitas amid all the chaos and cuteness. On the other hand, Jing Boran is an awkward combination of klutzy shtick and faceless blandness, but to be fair, he probably did not expect to be stepping into Song’s shoes. Well after production began, he replaced Kai Ko, when the Tiny Times actor was swept up in the Jaycee Chan business.

Monster Hunt also features Tang Wei and Yao Chen in goofy, slightly macabre Tim Burton-esque cameos that bizarrely play down their glamour. Sandra Ng and Eric Tsang add further star power, fitting comfortably into the roles of bickering monsters Zhugao and Fat Ying, when they are wearing their human skins.

The monsters are quite impressive, which would be the most important part of a film called Monster Hunt. Nevertheless, the narrative is disappointingly familiar and much of the broad humor will fall flat with American audiences. Still, the film is a genuine phenomenon (controversies of box-office inflation notwithstanding). Hui does what he does best quite well, but he should apply more of his Hollywood experience during the script-development period. Interesting but not essential for animation fans, Monster Hunt opens in both formats this Friday (1/22) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

2 Rabbits: Getting Capery in Sao Paulo

You’d think a schemer like Edgar would be more into RPGs than video games. Maybe he just got hooked on Grand Theft Auto during his two year cooling off period in Miami. He has returned to Sao Paulo with a plan to clean up the city’s worst element and redeem his past mistakes in Afonso Poyart’s 2 Rabbits (trailer here), which releases today on VOD.

Edgar is a slacker, but his knows his micro-electronics. They will factor in his plan to bring down Sao Paulo’s worst drug lord, Maicon. For years, he has beaten every rap thanks to information supplied by the Assistant District Attorney, who happens to be married to his sliny defense attorney. However, someone has provided the DA a batch of mega-incriminating evidence.

This time, Maicon will need the personal intervention of crooked politician Jader Kerteis, but it will not come cheap, as Edgar knows. After all, it was Kerteis who pulled the strings to allow the slacker to wriggle out of jail time after he accidentally ran down a young mother and her daughter. Legally, he got off scot-free, but his conscience is a different matter, especially when he sees Walter, the still grieving husband and father, who now works for his restauranteur father.

2 Rabbits is one of those films that constantly rewinds, giving viewers flashbacks that suddenly illuminate whatever baffling bit of business it just began. These interludes are slyly executed with plenty of energy and black humor, but we keep waiting for the ones that will explain why Edgar has it in for Maicon and why a particular figure from his past has agreed to help him, but they never come. That leaves a couple Amazon-sized motivational holes right it the center of the film.

If we do not get hung up on why anything happens, it is rather enjoyable to watch the pinballs bounce around. 2 Rabbits is all about style over substance—and Poyart’s approach is most decidedly kinetic. He also has a flair for dropping plot twists, even if, strictly speaking, they do not make a whole lot of sense.

Poyart creates enough good will through his choreographed madness to overcome any lingering pedantry. Basically, all his ensemble can do is hold on for dear life, with the exception of Caco Ciocler, who shows a bit of range as the anguished Walter. 2 Rabbits really is a film produced for gamers and it succeeds on that level. Recommended for its attitude and visual panache, 2 Rabbits releases today (1/19) on VOD platforms, including iTunes.

NYJFF ’16: Song of Songs

You might think Shimek’s parents would be proud to say “my son, the doctor,” but not in this resolutely traditional Orthodox shtetl. To study medicine, he essentially rejected their tight-knit community. Unfortunately, that also meant turning his back on Buzya, the love of his life. He will return hoping to rectify that mistake, but time marches on in Eva Neymann’s Song of Songs (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Based a several Sholem Aleichem short stories, Song of Songs paints an almost naively nostalgic portrait of Russian shtetl life, at a time pogrom concerns were never idle or baseless. Life went on regardless. For young Shimek, this involved elaborately constructed fantasies informed by Kabbalah, wherein Buzya was the princess and he was her knight-protector.

Although Shimek studies with the local rabbi, he only distinguishes himself with discipline problems. It is almost inevitable that Shimek would leave for more cosmopolitan pastures. Ironically, in his absence, Shimek’s parents adopt Buzya, in spirit if not in law, arranging a much more suitable match for her than their rebellious son.

In terms of mise-en-scene, Song is exceptionally accomplished. Production designers Gennadiy Popov and Ilya Iovu make the wooden shtetl house look properly hardscrabble and strangely charming in an old world kind of way. Cinematographer Rimmvydas Leipus duly lenses everything with the glow of romanticized memory. To set the indefinable mood, Neymann uses vintage popping and hissing records of Jewish recording artists, including Jolson and Haifitz, who are not necessarily era-appropriate, but still fit the tenor of the time.

The problem is Neymann’s cast is practically just another set of props for her to manipulate. Subtle and reserved performances can be a revelation, but here they are often just quietly unobtrusive. We can one hundred percent believe these are the weathered, reticent shtetl denizens, but they all leave us on the outside looking in.

Song of Songs is the sort of film you respect rather than feel affection for. Nevertheless, its humanistic portrayal of shtetl life arguably comes at an opportune moment. This is after all, a Ukrainian film, arriving at a time when Russian propaganda would have the world erroneously believe the nation is dominated by goose-stepping National Socialists. Song of Songs is a scrupulously classy, admirably literate production, but mere mortals may have trouble fully embracing it when it screens twice this Thursday (11/21) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

Synchronicity: Time Travel for Love or Profit

Klaus Meisner has an unusual business plan. His company supplies delicate designer flowers, the rare radioactive energy source MRD, and possibly time travel. Presumably, the mark-up on the first two is extremely profitable. The latter is under-development. Unfortunately, the socially awkward scientist who devised the wormhole opening technology is getting a little erratic. That sort of happens when your future self comes back in time. Complications arise in Jacob Gentry’s Synchronicity (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Meisner has a stranglehold on the world’s MRD supply, but it is the only thing powerful enough to drive Jim Beale’s Frankenstein-looking apparatus—thus, his overtures to the stone cold venture capitalist. Initially, his command test drive looks like a disaster, but when the smoke clears, Beale discovers the duly transmitted sample dahlia—or something. Don’t get hung up on any technical details. Gentry knows they make no sense so he blasts them by the audience at warp speed. Just accept some serious time traveling is about to happen—unless its actually a wormhole to a parallel dimension.

Just don’t get hung up period. The important thing is Beale figures out Meisner and his femme fatale kept woman Abby have been playing him—unless Meisner has been playing them both. Maybe she seduced him or maybe they just fell for each other. Beale will try to determine which is true and also save his breakthrough technology from Meisner’s grubby clutches by jumping through the wormhole. Of course, he can’t meet himself in the same time period, so his Mutt & Jeff assistants, Chuck and Matt, will contrive ways to keep them apart. That will get increasingly difficult.

The world of Synchronicity is rather pleasantly neo-retro-futuristic, looking like half Bladerunner and half New York Marriott Marquis, which is pretty cool. There are a lot of concrete stairs for Beale and Beale Prime to scamper up and down. This is a wonderfully choreographed time travel film, much like Timecrimes and The Infinite Man, but it lacks a similarly airtight internal system of logic. Rational causality goes out the window pretty early, but Gentry replaces that pedantic hobgoblin with a healthy dose of hardboiled noir. He even throw in a dash of the unreliable narrator down the stretch.

Chad McKnight is solid enough as the theory-smart, life-dumb Beale and Briane Davis generates plenty of sparks as Abby. However, the real genre glee comes from Michael Ironside doing his villainous thing as Meisner and A.J. Bowen’s Chuck, serving as the slightly smart-alecky audience surrogate and increasingly exasperated voice of reason. Good things happen when those two are on the screen.

There are some nicely rendered effects in Synchronicity, but it is the look, vibe, and locations that you will remember. Gentry keeps the chaos churning and the pace at a breakneck gallop. Frankly, the way he throws caution to the wind and keeps going all-in will wear down the objections of any regular genre film patron. Recommended for time travel and noir fans, Synchronicity opens this Friday (1/22) in LA at the Sundance Sunset Cinemas, and also releases on VOD platforms.

Ripstein’s Bleak Street

Skid Row looks mostly the same everywhere, but in Mexico City, you can also find down-on-their-luck luchador wrestlers. In the case of “Little Death” and “Little AK,” they are actually Mini-Estrella wrestlers, but do not call them midgets. They identify as Lilliputians. Unfortunately, they are based on real life Mini-Estrella murder victims Alejandro and Alberto Jiminez, so they are in for an abrupt end. At least they go out with their masks on in Arturo Ripstein’s Bleak Street (trailer here), which opens this Wednesday at Film Forum.

Little Death and Little AK do not even take their masks off when they are home with their long suffering, conventionally-sized wives. They act as the “shadows” of full sized luchadors, “Death” and “AK-47.” The AK’s have a good professional the relationship, but not the Deaths.

Life is tough on the Mini-Estrella circuit, but it is even harder for aging prostitutes like Adela and Dora. The former has largely given up on the sex trade, relying instead on her addled mother’s begging bowl. Dora still turns what tricks are available, but finds no love at home from her ingrate daughter or her closeted, transvestite husband. Hoping to get slightly ahead of the game, the sick and tired prostitutes plan to drug and rob the twin Minis when they are hired for their post-bout celebration. They used to roll clients all the time back in the day. Regrettably, they do not realize they need to make certain adjustments to their M.O.

Buñuel’s influence on Ripstein is immediately apparent in the first seconds of Bleak Street. It is also easy to deduce Ripstein’s influence on succeeding generations of Mexican filmmakers, like del Toro, Reygadas, and Plá. This is some dark stuff. Although never scary per se, there is a pronounced element of grotesquery that runs straight through the center of the film. Heck, it might just make Rachel Maddow’s amen corner vote for Donald Trump.

Yet, Ripstein and his screenwriter wife Paz Alicia Garcíadiego are not merely sympathetic towards the wife-beating Mini-Estrellas and the predatory prostitutes. They are overflowing with darkly humanistic love for them. After all, they are all products of their environment—and their cul-de-sac of dashed hopes makes the Dead End Bowery look like Rodeo Drive.

Even though we never see them unmasked, Juan Francisco Longoria and Guillermo López give remarkably physical performances as the Mini-Estrellas. Likewise, Patricia Reyes Spíndola and Nora Velázquez are painfully exposed as the aging street walkers. It is like Ripstein peels back layers of their dignity like an onion, only to find more perseverance beneath.

Somehow, Alejandro Cantú’s black-and-white cinematography makes the ugliness of human nature look absolutely gorgeous. It might sound like a Mexican John Waters film, but it has a closer kinship with the work of Fellini and even Bergman. It is not for all tastes, but it is a major late career auteurist statement from Ripstein, which in its way, is quite invigorating. Recommended for those who appreciate the bizarre and the naturalistic, Bleak Street opens this Wednesday (1/20) in New York at Film Forum.

NYJFF ’16: I Don’t Belong Anywhere—the Cinema of Chantal Akerman

It is hard for cineastes to grasp how a filmmaker whose work has been given the prestigious Criterion treatment could reportedly commit suicide while still producing provocative work. Such appears to be the case with Chantal Akerman, the celebrated director of Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles. Yet, Akerman’s former production manager turned documentarian Marianne Lambert captured revealing glimpses of the filmmaker that ring with significance after the fact. Although it predates Akerman’s premature finality, those sad circumstances inevitably inform Lambert’s I Don’t Belong Anywhere—the Cinema of Chantal Akerman, which screens during the 2016 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Akerman is best known as a trailblazing experimental feminist filmmaker, but her later films also explored the part-time Israeli resident’s Jewish Identity. However, her final film, No Home Movie intimately documented her failing mother’s last days. In Lambert’s relaxed interview sequences, it is clear Akerman was still emotionally reeling from the loss of her mother. Based on news accounts, we can surmise this depression took a fatal toll.

Ironically, Akerman is mostly a rather lively and charming presence in IDBA. Yet, the flashes of darkness are inescapable. Regardless, she gives Lambert considerable insights into her diverse filmography, including her mainstream rom-com A Couch in New York, co-starring Juliette Binoche and William Hurt. She also revisits her intense early work, like Je Tu Il Elle, which in retrospect now looks like an early forerunner of Blue is the Warmest Color. There is also something appealing about Akerman’s aversion to labels, which often manifested in a reluctance to allow its screening at thematically LGBT festivals.

There are notable exceptions, but IDBA is generally more accessible than the films it analyzes. As a filmmaker, Lambert is unflaggingly sensitive and respectful, but through no fault of her own, the cinematic portrait still feels uncomfortably revealing in light of subsequent events. Illuminating but deeply depressing, I Don’t Belong Anywhere—the Cinema of Chantal Akerman screens Wednesday evening (1/20) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

NYJFF ’16: How to Win Enemies

Lucas Abadi might not look like much, but he has an encyclopedic knowledge of Argentine law and an intimate familiarity with Patricia Highsmith’s Ripley novels. When a femme fatale slips him a mickey to plunder his life savings, Abadi will use his hardboiled insights to track down the mystery culprit who put her up to the job in Gabriel Lichtmann’s How to Win Enemies (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Lucas Abadi has the brains, but he lacks his older brother Max’s charm and ambition. The caper in question will unfold as Max the beaming groom reads the wedding speech his visibly uncomfortable brother ghost-wrote for him. In retrospect, the woman calling herself “Barbara” was probably too good to be true: a sultry legal secretary who shared his passion for Highsmith and Agatha Christie. Their first date goes swimmingly until Abadi wakes up with a headache and his recent cash withdrawal missing.

His colleagues urge him to dismiss the incident as a random crime, but his instincts beg to differ. She knew exactly what she was looking for—and there are only four suspects who knew he was taking out money for a down-payment on a flat. Frankly, Barbara’s copy of American Friend is just too suspicious not to be an inside job.

Somehow Lichtmann strikes a rare tone with Enemies. He keeps things light, but still serious. Abadi is dealing with some profound issues of betrayal, but he is never in mortal peril, per se. It is therefore rather easy to watch him peel back layers of the onion, but there are always real stakes involved.

It sort of takes a little time to warm to Martin Slipak’s nebbish portrayal of Abadi, but this is definitely a case where slow and steady wins the race. Ines Palombo’s “Barbara” certainly seems like all kinds of dangerous. Sagrado Sebakis notably brings some refreshingly off-kilter comic relief as “the Pelican,” the firm’s off-the-books “consultant” and Abadi’s prime suspect. As the librarian, Carla Quevedo also makes a strong impression with limited screen time, following in the tradition of Dorothy Malone as the bookseller in The Big Sleep.

Enemies is quite a smart and wry little film. It is doomed to be compared to Daniel Burman’s chronicles of upper middle class Jewish Argentines, but Lichtmann’s caper is less fussbudget-ish and has considerably more narrative drive. Its narrow scope and low key eccentricities could be lost on those who expect liberal helping of either bombast and/or shtick, but it is really quite a lot of fun. Affectionately recommended, How to Win Enemies screens twice this Thursday (1/21) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

NYJFF ’16: Tito’s Glasses

He was a dictator, but Marshal Tito maintained a degree of Yugoslavian independence from the Soviet Bloc. Besides the wise counsel of future dissident Milovan Djilas, many credit his Titoist policies to his history as a real deal partisan. Yet, Adriana Altaras’s former partisan father barely escaped the business end of a Soviet-style purge. Despite his good luck, Jakob Altaras recognized the writing on the wall and subsequently smuggled his family into Western Europe. Now a mother herself, Altaras takes a road trip into the past to explore her complicated relationship with her parents and their native Croatia in Regina Schilling’s Tito’s Glasses (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Altaras was somewhat in awe of her father, but she spent many of her formative years living with her staunchly anti-Communist aunt in Italy. Like Altaras herself, her parents’ attitudes towards Tito and their Yugoslavian homeland remained complicated and contradictory, even though they got out while the getting was good. Nevertheless, Dr. Altaras achieved a good deal of professional success in Germany. His daughter even visits the university where he taught, which has erected a stone memorial in his honor, shaped like the radiological probe he invented. It is a small monument, but it sure looks uncomfortable, if you follow me.

The charming, philandering Dr. Altaras and his standoffish wife Thea are intriguing figures, who helped revitalize the Jewish community in their provincial German district (hence, Glasses selection for this year’s NYJFF). They could easily support a feature length documentary. Therefore, it is rather frustrating how much time Schilling spends on Adriana Altaras’s road movie business. Granted, the film is based on her family memoir, but viewers will be coming to hear about her father’s service with Tito in the forests and trenches rather than her struggles to discipline her entitled teenaged son.

The Tito-Djilas era remains endlessly fascinating. However, Schilling and Altaras spend so much time trying to convince the audience she is just a slightly scatterbrained everyday wife and mother, they unfortunately succeed. We all hope she can come to terms with her personal ghosts, but we want to hear more about Jakob Altaras’s defection and wartime experiences, like the apocryphal family legend that gives the film it title. It is not a bad film per se, but anyone who has read the classic Conversations with Stalin will find Tito’s Glasses disappointingly light weight when it screens twice this Tuesday (1/19) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

Remember You: Jung Woo-Sung’s Repressed Memories

Amnesiac attorney Yeon Suk-won has lost the last ten years of his memory. Actually, it is more like thirty years according to the record of his billable hours. Pain and suffering have been his stock and trade, but his own trauma caused a deep psychological fissure. Yeon will try to fit together stray puzzle pieces of his memory in Lee Yoon-jung’s Remember You (trailer here), which opens today in Los Angeles.

The immediate cause of Yeon’s memory loss was an auto accident, but something else happened in his past that nobody around him wants to talk about. Frankly, there are not a lot of potential volunteers. Nobody comes looking for Yeon as he re-enters society after extensive in-patient therapy, except his law partner Oh Kwon-ho. He is eager for him to resume work on Kim Yeong-hee’s murder trial, but Yeon is no longer the legal shark she retained. There is something a little fishy about her—and she thinks Yeon ought to know why, but he is clueless.

In addition to the generally disorienting effects of his localized amnesia, Yeon is also distracted by the mysterious Kim Jin-yeong, whom he constantly crosses paths with. Obviously, she also has her issues and the resulting meds, but Kim seems to know more about him than she lets on. Regardless, they quickly commence a passionate, slightly dysfunctional affair. Yet, just when things start getting good, flashes from Yeon’s past threaten to destabilize their relationship.

Lee plays intriguingly odd tonal games throughout Remember You in a mostly distinctive kind of way. Several times it flirts with Hitchcockian suspense, only to revert back to melodrama in each case. Still, it is very much a mystery and often rather atmospheric. Lee’s screenplay (a fix-up of her 2010 short film) also manages to end on a note that should satisfy romance fans, but is not the least bit sentimental or overly pat, which is a neat trick to pull off.

Korean superstars Jung Woo-sung and Kim Ha-nel develop some wonderfully potent yet thorny chemistry as the romantic leads. Kim is particularly poignant as Kim Jin-yeong. Rather than let loose with cheap theatrics, we very directly see and feel how desperately she is trying to contain herself. As Oh, Bae Sung-woo (so effective in Hong Won-chan’s Office) memorably takes the clichéd best friend role and takes it in sleazier direction. However, Jang Young-nam basically upstages everyone as the potential black widow femme fatale.

Even though it is not a thriller per se, Lee Yoon-jung keeps the audience guessing right up to the third act revelation (perhaps a little too much, since the many flashback sequences are not always clearly delineated). The attractive co-leads and the small but accomplished cast of supporting players are also key to maintaining our intrigued focus. Frankly, it is one of the better psychological dramas you will see that opts more for tragedy than suspense. Recommended pretty enthusiastically, Remember Me opens today (1/15) in Los Angeles at the CGV Cinemas and next Friday (1/22) in Dallas at the Cine Oasis.

Philip K. Dick ’16: Counter Clockwise

There is a long and reasonably successful tradition of self-experimentation in medical research, but not so much when it comes to the development of teleportation. Have you seen Jeff Goldblum in The Fly? Apparently, Ethan Walker has not. Despite knowing his prospective system is still a little buggie, Walker jumps on a node anyway and beams himself into a future where he is wanted for the murder of his wife and sister. Things will get even more complicated when Walker returns to the past he skipped over in George Moïse’s Counter Clockwise (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 Philip K. Dick Film Festival in New York.

Schlubby Walker and his decidedly not schlubby partner Ceil left Rakubian Industries to invent their teleportation device. Unfortunately, their guinea pig, a rather trusting one-eyed dog does not re-materialize as they hoped. This is obviously very depressing, especially for Charlie the pooch. However, when Fido finally reappears, the relieved Walker decides to take it for test drive himself. Right, that is just a really tough decision to buy.

After jumping into the future, Walker figures out a few fused circuits turned the teleporter into a time machine. Recovering from the initial shock of seeing him again, Ceil explains to Walker how badly he has been framed. Being a fugitive in the present that used to be the future, Walker goes back to when everything went south. Of course, he will have to avoid himself and all his subsequent selves that might be sharing the time-frame.

Counter has a grungy, seriously DIY vibe that actually serves it quite well. Moïse also choreographs the resulting near-misses and crossed paths rather nicely. However, the stakes have been raised dramatically for time travel films. Compared to the complex traffic direction of Hugh Sullivan’s The Infinite Man and Jacob Gentry’s forthcoming Synchronicity, Counter is clearly much smaller in scope and considerably less ambitious conceptually. There is also some really disgusting business in the climax nobody will want to see.

Co-writer-co-producer Michael Kopelow is pretty solid as the Job-like Walker, but many of the supporting players simply are not professional grade. Unlike Nacho Vigalondo’s Timecrimes or Bradley King’s Time Lapse, the Moïses and Kopelow never seem particularly keen to explore the paradoxes of time travel. Instead, they are more interested in the conventional subplots involving Rakubian Industries.

Counter Clockwise is not a bad film (aside from that really problematic bit), but it just can’t compete with its recent time-traveling cousins. For dedicated subgenre fans, it screens this Sunday (1/17) at the Cinema Village, during this year’s Philip K. Dick Film Festival.

Band of Robbers: Huck & Tom, Together Again

Tom Sawyer is no more likely to paint fences in 2015 than he was in 1876. He is both cop and robber, but he really sees himself as a hero and a treasure hunter. Unfortunately, his wild schemes inevitably cause trouble for his ex-con best friend, Huckleberry Finn in Band of Robbers (trailer here), Aaron & Adam Nee’s modern day re-conception of Twain’s beloved stories, which opens today in New York.

Finn never squealed on Sawyer when he went up the river, even though it was his friend’s fault. That allowed the gung-ho Sawyer to get a job as a patrolman, sort of like his detective half-brother, Sid. When Finn is paroled, he quickly learns Sawyer is still obsessed with the legendary Murrell’s gold. For some reason, Sawyer thinks Injun Joe has stashed the pirate treasure in a pawnshop, so he hatches a hair-brained armed robbery scheme to take it. Yes, he is still called Injun Joe, but the Anglo villain has a politically correct defense of his nickname at the ready.

Inconveniently, Sawyer is assigned a new partner on the very day of the hold-up. Of course, that would be Judge Thatcher’s daughter, Becky. Sawyer takes an immediate shine to her, but she will complicate his plan to run interference for Finn and their accomplices. Finn was supposed to pick up a day laborer to be their getaway driver, but since their knucklehead friends over slept, he is forced to recruit the Widow Douglas’s illegal gardener, Jorge JIMinez.

Band is just the sort of movie that wears down your resistance over time. In many ways, the Nee Brothers have quite cleverly modernized the grown-up (if not necessarily mature) Twain characters and the source material that made them famous. However, Tom Sawyer and Adam Nee (who plays him) try way, way, way too hard. Granted, Sawyer is supposed to be recklessly enthusiastic, but he often brings to mind “Kung Fu” Eliott “White Lightning” Scott, which is a profoundly unfortunate place to be.

On the flipside, the reserved and somewhat embarrassed looking Kyle Gallner’s Finn serves as an accessible and identifiable audience surrogate. He and Nee are like oil and water, but they develop some pleasant bantering buddy chemistry. Hannibal Buress also gets off some of the films better lines as Sawyer and Huck’s dim-witted crony, Adam Rogers, while Stephen Lang adds some dependable villainous seasoning as Injun Joe.

When Band of Robbers takes its Ritalin and gets serious about finding Murrell’s treasure, it actually starts to hit it is stride. There is just something nostalgically charming about treasure maps and mysterious keys. However, the film suffers from a surplus of quirkiness in the first two acts. It is almost too clever and too eager to please for its own good. Okay for Twain diehards who prefer their films loud and desperately earnest, Band of Robbers opens today (1/15) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

NYJFF ’15: Cinema: a Public Affair

The Moscow State Central Cinema Museum was not just a vitally important Russian cultural institution. It was also the canary in the coal mine. During late Perestroika and the early Yeltsin years, the Museum’s cinematheque became a catalyst for open debate and the free exchange of ideas. Those days ended with Putin’s rise to power. Evicted from their stately building, the Museum’s legendary director Naum Kleiman valiantly held the Museum’s staff and programming together until he was pushed out by the cultural ministry. Kleiman takes stock of his losing battles and the grim outlook for Russian civil society in Tatiana Brandrup’s Cinema: a Public Affair (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Kleiman really gets to the nub of the issue in the film’s opening seconds, arguing Russia has always lacked social institutions strong enough to counterbalance the perennially domineering state. In its own small way, the Moscow Film Museum was instituted to address this imbalance. Initially, Kleiman only reluctantly accepted the directorship, hoping to return soon to his position with the Sergei Eisenstein archive.

You can’t get much more Soviet than “Eysen,” as they call him, but for Kleiman and several museum staffers, the notoriously banned Ivan the Terrible Part 2 is his true touchstone film. Frankly, it is a minor miracle Putin’s flunkies have not renewed Stalin’s prohibition. After all, they have forbidden the public exhibition of films with cursing.

Clearly, nobody understands the erosion of Russian freedoms of thought and expression as keenly as Kleiman, yet he remains a reasonably happy warrior. His enthusiasm for cinema remains infectious and undiminished. For obvious reasons, he is the focal point of Brandrup’s documentary, but he never gets dull. He often relates to films under discussion on multiple levels, simultaneously. The precise details of how the Museum was dispossessed remain murky, apparently as the parties involved intended. However, Brandrup and the Museum partisans openly identify one particularly duplicitous figure, besides Putin. That would be Nikita Mikhalkov, the chairman of the directors’ union.

Somehow Public Affair manages to be rapturously heady when addressing the transformational virtues of cinema and bracingly candid (if not downright depressing) when illuminating the state of Russian personal liberties (or the lack thereof). Arguably, Kleiman is lucky to be alive. If you doubt it, just ask Boris Nemtsov or Anna Politkovskaya. By turns charming, compelling, and deeply galling, Cinema: a Public Affair is the can’t-miss high point of this year’s NYJFF. Very highly recommended, it screens this coming Tuesday night (1/19) and Wednesday afternoon (1/20), at the Walter Reade Theater.