NYAFF ’19: Winter After Winter

China suffered terribly during the Japanese occupation. They go out of their way to remind the world of that fact with every other film they officially release. Apparently, the nation prefers to identify itself as a group of pitiful victims rather than as a global superpower. A dysfunctional family serves as the latest example. They will be duly miserable during the waning days of the war in Xing Jian’s Winter After Winter, which screens as a selection of the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

Elderly Lao Si will soon turn his grown sons over to the local Japanese commander to [involuntarily] labor in their lumber camp, but he is only incidentally concerned with their fate. Instead, he has arranged a hasty divorce for his eldest impotent son, so one of his two younger brothers can impregnate his now ex-wife, Kun, thereby continuing Lao’s bloodline. Unfortunately, the middle sibling is too disgusted by it all, so he runs off to join the resistance, whereas the dim-witted youngest, simply isn’t up to the task.

Kun rather stoically accepts this unseemly circus, not that anyone is asking her opinion. Her silence speaks volumes. Likewise, Lao Si’s motor-mouth can be cringey to listen to. Frankly, his obsession with blood (well beyond that of the problematic but infinitely more sympathetic characters in Steinbeck’s Burning Bright) approaches outright creepiness. Yet, Xing, previously an accomplished painter, maintains a stately slow pace.

Winter eventually reaches a profoundly ironic payoff, but many viewers will be hard-pressed to see it that way. In fact, Xing maintains such a harshly realistic, matter-of-fact tone, you could almost miss the significant revelations he drops late in the game. This is definitely austere cinema, but the visual artistry of Guo Daming’s striking (mostly) black-and-white cinematography is just as apparent, frame after frame.

As Kun, Yan Bingyan is a haunting presence, thanks to her demoralized and downtrodden body language. However, it is Gao Qiang who really dominates the film as the desperately deceitful Lao Si, debasing himself over small stakes, much like a William H. Macey character in a Coen Brothers film.

Xing’s film has too many bitterly dark plot-points to truly be classified as “slow cinema,” but it is still “slow-ish.” His long takes are impressively composed, but they demand the viewer’s close attention. Interestingly, he also somewhat humanizes the Japanese commander, which definitely distinguishes Winter from the field. Only recommended for hardcore cineastes who will respect its integrity, Winter After Winter screens tomorrow (7/5), during the 2019 NYAFF.

Cold Blood: Jean Reno Plays Lone Wolf

Movies make terrible doctors. If you ever find yourself pierced by a foreign object, dislodging it could be fatal, but that is usually the first thing film characters do when they find themselves in that predicament. Frankly, our mystery snow-mobiler would probably be dead after the first five minutes, after she pulls loose an impaling tree branch. Fortunately, a grizzled cat like Jean Reno knows better. The reclusive hitman will nurse her back to health in director-screenwriter Frederic Petitjean’s Cold Blood, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Henry is a stealthy professional, who often uses untraceable ice bullets, including the job that kicks off the film. He then calmly returns to his remote Pacific Northwest retreat. It is a good thing he did, because it is his cabin Melody crawls to after her sudden snow mobile accident. She wanted to get away from everything—and she did.

His bedside manner is not so great, but Melody is not an especially gracious patient either. Nevertheless, Henry manages to nurse her back to health, even though neither of them trusts the other. Of course, their suspicions will be justified over time. Meanwhile, Deputy Kappa, a former NYPD cop, who relocated to Spokane for reasons even he doesn’t understand, diligently works the case of the industrialist Henry whacked during the film’s most interesting sequence.

Spokane has a population over 200,000 as well as its own airport, but everyone in the film acts like it is the equivalent of Twin Peaks. At least they pronounce it correctly. Honestly, viewers will wish they could see more of the city, because cabin fever sets in pretty quickly during this film. Jean Reno is one of the most reliable and under-appreciated hard-nosed actors in the business today, but watching him tend to Melody’s wounds and giving her stern advice gets old after a while. Honestly, not enough happens in Cold Blood and most of the events that transpire are ridiculously contrived.

In addition to Reno, Joe Anderson is also highly watchable as Kappa, perhaps because he truly looks like he resents every moment he is in the picture. That leaves Sarah Lind in an awkward spot, playing it straight opposite the steely Reno an in contrast to the snarky Anderson.

Nobody will have strong feelings for Cold Blood or vivid memories of the movie. It is easy to pinpoint the principal reason why: a script that clearly should have gone through further drafts. Petitjean even commits the sin of “Chekhov’s Wolf,” referencing a lobo “with the taste for human blood” in the first act, but never circling back to that plot point. Not recommended, Cold Blood opens tomorrow (7/5) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

NYAFF ’19: The Fatal Raid

Doesn’t it warm your heart to see cooperation between the different Chinas? In this case, police officers from Hong Kong, Macau, and possibly Taiwan (at least she is teased for being a Taiwanese spy) team up to stop a senior HK cop gone rogue. Madam Fong and her team happen to be women, but they are as lethal as vintage Michelle Yeoh. They will clean up their male colleagues’ mess in Jacky Lee’s The Fatal Raid (a.k.a. Special Female Force 2: The Fatal Raid), which screens during the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

Technically, this is a sequel, but don’t worry about coming in cold. Lee quickly catches the audience up on all the back-story they need to know. Frankly, the subtitles for the screener viewed for this review were not great either, but that hardly matters. Fatal Raid is all about action first and attractive women holding guns second. As such, its language is universal.

Twenty-some years ago, before the handover of Macao and Hong Kong, (which the subtitles refer to as the “regression,” perhaps more accurately than was intended), Tam led a secret HK police operation in Macao that turned into a bloodbath. To avoid embarrassment, the top brass covered up the incident and disavowed all claims for compensation from the deceased officers’ next of kin. The titular raid still haunts Tam, so he decides to take advantage of the new deputy commissioner’s first public appearance in Macao to strike. The ultimate objective is a little murky, but there is no missing the slam-bang chaos that ensues.

 So, action. Lots of it. Honestly, Fatal Raid has the energy and tragic sensibility of John Woo films, circa Hard Boiled, with some “chicks-with-guns” fan service thrown in for extra added meathead appeal. Arguably, Jade Leung and company manage to be both feminist role models and guy-friendly eye-candy, but there are so many bullets whizzing through the air, nobody will have a chance to analyze the film’s gender politics.

Leung is pretty darned steely as Madam Fong. Malaysian pop-star Lin Min-chen is also quite engaging as the strait-laced, fast-tracked Yan Han. Likewise, Hidy Yu, Jeana Ho, and Jadie Lin show off some impressive action chops as their colleagues. The brooding is mostly left to the guys, particularly Patrick Tam, who seethes and agonizes as his guilt-ridden namesake.

This is a massively violent film, but it is also a lot of fun. If you imagine the shootout at the end of Michael Mann’s Heat raised to the power of ten and expanded to fill three twenty-minute windows and you might have a notion of what the film is like. Very highly recommended for action fans, The Fatal Raid screens this Friday (7/5), as part of NYAFF ’19.

Ari Aster’s Midsommar

Blame Bernie Sanders for giving Millennials a false impression of Sweden. Granted, taxes are high, but it is a capitalistic economy that was arguably less regulated than our own, until we got some relief over the last two years (perhaps you have heard of Swedish companies, like Volvo, H&M, Ikea, and Ericsson). It is also overwhelmingly Lutheran, in an upstanding Calvinist kind of way, but for a group of hard-partying grad students, it is more fun to romanticize pagan solstice rituals. However, the midnight sun phenomenon is legit and it will contribute to the mounting disorientation the abrasively obnoxious tourists experience in Ari Aster’s Midsommar, which opens today in New York.

Dani is the likable one, relatively speaking, but an almost unbearable family tragedy has rendered her an emotional basket case. Her passive-aggressive boyfriend Christian is incapable of giving her the support she needs, because he has been too busy looking for an easy, no-stress exit from their relationship. Yet, he reluctantly invites her along on a trip to the Midsommar festival in northern Sweden, held every nine years at the commune where their fellow anthropology student Pelle lives. He seems a little less randy and crass than the other grad lads, but his interest in Dani may not necessarily be a good thing.

At first, everything is cool when the Americans (and two Brits brought along by Pelle’s cousin) drop acid and gambol in the fields. However, the first ritual is absolutely shocking, even to Josh, who is doing his thesis on midsummer folk traditions. Nevertheless, they stay, to keep the movie going.

There is no getting around the fact Midsommar is nowhere near as scary as Aster’s breakout debut, Hereditary. In fact, it is not really frightening, per se. Instead, more of a string of jaw-dropping, over-the-top set pieces, featuring a fair degree of gore. It is not unlike Guadagnino’s Suspiria remake-re-conception, because the primary response sought by both films is “Dude, WTF,” rather than fear or suspense. It is still definitely a horror movie, but it is all about spectacle rather than existential dread.

Yet, there are still elements of what could be considered hallmarks of a consistent Aster style. Once again, he plumbs the depths of human anguish, putting his lead through a torturous emotional ringer, within the first ten minutes. Arguably, he could be one of the few filmmakers working today who can address themes of grief and guilt in such a brutally honest, unsentimentalized fashion. In addition, we can see the way he employs art and décor to build tension. This time around, it is weird murals and folk paintings that set the tone, much like the eerie miniatures in Hereditary.

Midsommar could even have an outside shot at a best costume Oscar, if A24 campaigns hard for it. A lot of craftsmanship went into the film, but the narrative is rather standard stuff. There are no great surprises here, not even the kicker ending, which would not be out of place in a vintage issue of EC Comics.

Regardless, Florence Pugh and Jack Reynor hold up their ends with uncompromising, all-in performances, even when their characters’ excesses confound the audience’s desire to identify with them, or at least with Dani. Although Christian is a raging jerkheel, we can’t help tiring of her manic swings. Honestly, they are both so unpleasant to spend time with (and wait till you get an earful of Will Poulter as Christian’s horndog pal, Mark), you might just find yourself rooting for the pagan cult to Wicker Man everyone’s butt back to the pre-Christianity era.

That is really how you have to buy into Midsommar­—as a wild dive into a maelstrom of lunacy (again, very much like Suspiria). At times, Midsommar will make you laugh out loud. Other times, you will stomp and shout. It is mostly a good thing when films inspire strong reactions, even if a lot of fans were going in expecting to respond differently.

Of course, horror fans will need to see Midsommar just so they can form their own opinions. It is probably the most eagerly anticipated horror movie and sophomore film since Jordan Peele’s Us (which was better than Midsommar, but Hereditary was vastly superior to the over-hyped Get Out, so let’s call it a draw, so far). Recommended as nutty slice of Scandinavian midnight madness (but not a major new statement in the genre), Midsommar opens today (7/3) in theaters throughout New York, including the AMC Empire.

NYAFF ’19: Walk with Me

They are not likely to throw zombies out of work anytime soon, but evil dolls are still definitely having their evil moment. Even Malaysia is riding the wave. Sam believes the restless spirit of her brother who died in utero has inhabited her childhood doll, to wreak havoc and seek vengeance. The truth might be even worse than she imagines, but the body-count will be just as real in Ryon Lee’s Walk with Me, which screens during the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

Frankly, Sam’s life is terrifying enough without a haunting. She is bullied incessantly at her sweatshop place of employment, where she also must contend with a pervy boss. Things are not much better in the flat she shares with her scoldy mother and drunken wastrel father. Despite a first act exorcism, Sam is convinced the angry ghost of her little brother has possessed her insanely creepy doll. He died before he could be born, due to an accident she caused—at least that is how she remembers it, thanks to her mother’s constant reminders. Things will continue to get worse for Sam, in every way, except for the return of her suddenly fit high school pal, York.

Lee and co-screenwriter Ying-ying Chang drop a huge up-ending twist on viewers at the eleventh hour, so a little tap-dancing is required to avoid spoilers. Frankly, it is questionable whether the film makes complete sense in retrospect and it would be dashed difficult to assemble a scrupulously logical timeline for everything that transpires. However, it is all pretty scary, so you might as well buy in and roll with it.

Michelle Wai’s portrayal of Sam will just break your heart, even when things get a bit extreme. It might be hard to initially accept someone with her actress-model looks could be bullied so roughly, but her acting and the sad frequency that human nature often manifests in jealousy and resentment make it believable. Veteran HK thesps Anna Ng and Richard Ng are also terrific, in a fearlessly naturalistic and unsympathetic kind of way, as Sam’s parents.

Some really effective art direction and location scouting went into Walk, particularly the textile factory, which just looks oppressively evil. Seriously, this film should be quite a persuasive PSA for staying in school and resisting the urge to bully others. Recommended for fans of gritty supernatural horror, Walk with Me screens Thursday (7/4) night, as part of this year’s NYAFF.

NYAFF ’19: The Fable

Akira Sato was supposed to just mark time in what could be considered the Yakuza equivalent of Witness Protection. An Osaka clan allied with his boss will put him up in an unassuming suburban home. All he has to do is act normal. However, that will be the only part of being a Yakuza hitman that has ever been a struggle for him—especially the inconvenient moratorium on killing people. Trouble will inevitably find its way to his incognito doorstep in Kan Eguchi’s The Fable, which screens as the centerpiece selection of the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

The hitman known to many simply as “The Fable” is the best in the business, because he was trained by the best—his father—as we will see in flashbacks. He will take out a room full of rival Yakuza in the opening action scene like it was nothing, but his boss deems it time for him to lay low for a while afterward. Unfortunately, a couple of young, nihilistic rivals want to make their name by killing The Fable, so they will follow his trail to Osaka.

Frankly, Yoko, Sato’s femme fatale assistant might have a harder time enduring Osaka’s quiet respectability. As a natural stoic, Sato can work menial delivery job without complaints. He just might even develop a human relationship with his Misaki, a cute and naïve co-worker. However, he just can’t help acting weird, due to his lack of socialization. Regardless, his foray into normalcy will be short-lived when his host requests his help to quell a territorial power struggle.

Based on Katsuhisa Minami’s manga, The Fable combines goofball humor with wild over-the-top action set pieces (performed by the Jackie Chan Stunt Team). In terms of tone, it hits roughly the same notes as Takashi Miike’s Mole Song movies, but Eguchi and screenwriter Yusuke Watanabe often use crass cheeseball humor to satirize the crassness and cheesiness of Japanese mass media.

Jun’ichi Okada is quite the game stone-faced straight man as The Fable. Yuya Yagira is flamboyantly villainous as Kojima, a recent parolee making all kinds of trouble as the wild card in the brewing Yakuza civil war. Mizuki Yamamoto is certainly endearing as the innocent Misaki, but Fumino Kimura steals scene after scene as the elegant but dangerous Yoko (remember Marian Crane’s drinking contest at the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark? That’s her idea of a good way to kill time).

The Fable is not exactly high art, even among big screen manga adaptations, but it certainly zips along. It is sort of like My Blue Heaven with a higher body count and arguably a bigger heart. Despite his social awkwardness, Sato is one of the more appealing movie assassins of recent vintage. Recommended for fans of wild Yakuza films, The Fable screens tomorrow (7/2), as part of NYAFF ’19.

NYAFF ’19: Dare to Stop Us

Generally speaking, if you want to understand a nation’s collective angst, you check out its monster movies. In Japan, that arguably extended to their naughty Pinku Eiga films. Several prominent directors initially cut their teeth in Japan’s blue movie trade, but none was as notorious as Koji Wakamatsu. The auteur and his circle of collaborators and barely paid employees get a relatively evenhanded treatment in Kazuya Shiraishi’s Dare to Stop Us, which screens during the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

Wakamatsu was a former real deal yakuza, who became a close ally of the United Red Amy terrorist group, whose exploits he later chronicled in the surprisingly unflattering United Red Army. He was also an arrogant blowhard and a terrible boss. Yet, he could inspire loyalty in his crew and admirers, especially long-suffering assistant director, Megumi Yoshizumi.

Yoshizumi will become the tragic heroine of Wakamatsu’s world and Shiraishi’s film, learning to tune out the sex scenes and sexism with the help of booze. Rather than Wakamatsu, the most sympathetic male figure is Masao Adachi, his frequent screenwriter collaborator and an auteurist filmmaker in his own right. Adachi is the only character in Wakamatsu’s orbit who can stand up to him. Yoshizumi also carries a torch for him, despite his being at least a generation older.

One thing is pretty clear throughout Dare. Militant leftists are absolutely miserable people. Seriously folks, start buying into bourgeoisie consumerist values. You’ll be so much happier for it. The film certainly is not a puff piece for Wakamatsu either. Frankly, many viewers coming in without baggage will start to suspect his dirty movies are really just dirty movies. However, Shiraishi and screenwriter Jun’ichi Inoue ultimately humanize him and argue for forgiveness of his excesses.

Regardless, Mugi Kadowaki is rigorously reserved yet strikingly vulnerable as Yoshizumi. It might just be one of the great feminist performances of our postmodern era, but it is unlikely to be recognized as such, since the chauvinism she endures comes from the left (hmm, would the Wakamatsu studio be considered a hostile work environment by today’s standards?). In contrast, as Wakamatsu, Arata Iura is tempestuous and larger than life in big-screen-friendly ways, while Hiroshi Yamamoto anchors the film as the self-effacing Adachi.

Dare is a colorful period production, to put it mildly. However, the Pinku Eiga production scenes are played more for their value as eccentric spectacle rather than for prurient interest. Plus, the soundtrack is pretty groovy. Recommended for both Wakamatsu’s fans and detractors, Dare to Stop Us screens this Thursday (the Fourth of July, an irony that would amuse Wakamatsu) as part of this year’s NYAFF.

NYAFF ’19: The Gun

The more you work with firearms, the more you come to regard them as a simple tool. Alas, Toru Nishikawa’s society does not afford him that opportunity, so when he chances across a Magnum at a riverside crime scene, he is compelled to pocket it—and quickly becomes obsessed with its dangerous power. Plenty of blame will be placed on the inanimate object in Masaharu Take’s The Gun, which screens during the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

There was a dead body and a gun lying next to it, but Nishikawa is compelled to swipe the latter before the cops arrive. As soon as he gets home, he starts fantasizing about how he might use it. The abusive mother living in the next-door apartment immediately presents herself as an appropriate prospective victim. However, Nishikawa intends to take his time, so he can savor the idea and the anticipation. He will even start a semi-serious relationship with an attractive fellow undergrad, Yuki Yoshikawa, who has recently resumed her studies.

The Gun somewhat follows in the vein of the “Blue Scorpion” episode of the new Twilight Zone reboot series, in that both literally demonize hand guns. At least Take and co-screenwriter Hideki Shishido are more subtle in how they go about it. They also take things in a very existential, Dostoevskian direction. You would almost expect to find Nishikawa huddled in a Moscow garret.

Unfortunately, the film basically runs out of steam during the third act, allowing a lot of good film noir business to go to waste. It is especially frustrating to see the great Lily Frankly only really have one extended scene as the cop giving Nishikawa the Columbo treatment. More of their cat-and-mouse and less of Nishikawa’s self-destructive angst would have made Gun a stronger film.

Nevertheless, Nijiro Murakami is viscerally intense and unsettlingly sociopathic as Nishikawa. He is all kinds of creepy and clammy. Franky is perfectly cast as the world-weary, smarter-than-he-looks flatfoot, while Alice Hirose is terrific as the warm but insecure Yoshikawa.

As in previous films, such as 100 Yen Love, Take dives into the grubby, marginalized milieu. Hiromitsu Nishimura’s stark black-and-white cinematography quite effectively reflects Nishikawa’s darkly agitated state of mind, in a way reminiscent of Aronofsky’s Pi. Yet, somehow, he dispenses with too many subplots in a perfunctory, on-the-nose manner, like the scene involving the biological father Nishikawa has not met up until the second act.

Altogether, The Gun is a hugely frustrating film for hardboiled thriller fans, but it is safe to say Franky will leave them wanting more. Recommended for those who value noir visual stylings over substance, The Gun screens this Sunday (6/30) as part of this year’s NYAFF.

Three Peaks: Frosty Family Time

There are long-held historical antagonisms between the French and Germans, but Lea and Aaron believe they are past all that. They are new Europeans. The only thing standing in the way of their prospective union is her son, Tristan. He speaks English, the language of his father and Euro-skepticism. The vacation intended to forge a new family unit will take a tense turn in Jan Zabeil’s Three Peaks, which opens today in New York.

Aaron is a lumberjack-looking architect, who would ordinarily be considered prime husband and fatherhood material. That is how Lea sees him, but Tristan will need more convincing. That was the whole purpose of this trip, but Tristan is proving difficult. Lea tries to walk on tight-rope, respecting the place of her son’s very-present (but not in this movie) biological father, while still promoting Aaron’s merits. Yet, that often leads to frustration for both of her male companions.

In fact, Tristan’s needy, attention-seeking behavior and sometimes alarmingly dangerous practical jokes start to put a strain on their romantic relationship. Frankly, little “Tris” seems to be making progress in his cold war to undermine Aaron. The question is whether he is a bad seed acting intentionally or just a naïve innocent with a talent for stirring up trouble. Naturally, things will come to a head on the titular Dolomite Mountains.

Three Peaks is a carefully calibrated work, featuring three very impressive performances, but sometimes it is too airless and posed, like we are looking at a series of Ingmar Bergmanesque dioramas. Zabeil’s disciplined approach shuns melodrama and histrionics, but its austerity will make some viewers want to scream.

Still, Alexander Fehling gives probably the best performance of his career as Aaron. It is slow burning work that builds and compounds. Young Arian Montgomery constantly causes viewers to rethink and reconsider just how evil Tristan, the little monster, really is. Arguably, Berenice Bejo has the least developed role, but she easily convinces us in the power of a mother’s love to ignore or excuse some unsettling actions.

It is a bit of a stretch to call Three Peaks a thriller, but it is far darker and murkier than any healthy conventional family drama. Cinematographer Axel Schneppat feasts on the harsh but striking landscape, doubling down on the film’s chilly vibe. This is a film you will respect, but it is hard to love, just like sulky Tristan. Recommended for moody Euro cineastes, Three Peaks opens today (6/28) in New York, at the IFC Center.

NYAFF ’19: Hard-Core

Somehow, Ukon Gondo managed to fall in with a small group of Japanese leftist nationalists. They combine the fervor of Imperialist WWII denial with leftwing contempt for commerce and capitalism. Wisely, society shuns them, especially women. However, Gondo will find camaraderie with the unlikeliest brothers in Nobuhiro Yamashita’s Hard-Core, which screens during the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

Gondo has anger management issues that often require his contemptuous junior executive brother Sakon to bail him out of scrapes. His only work is a weekly gig digging for the presumably mythical lost gold of an ancient shogun in an abandoned mine, under the supervision of Kaneshiro, the doddering nutter “Chairman” of his small but extreme political party. Gondo’s closest companion is the hulking but slow-witted Ushiyama, whom he takes a protective interest in.

Then one day they stumble across an Iron Giant-like robot that they dub “Robo-o.” He looks retro on the outside, but he has a blazing fast processor on the inside. They essentially treat him like a friend and fellow party-member, until Sakon activates his communication interfaces. He also has the notion to exploit Robo-o’s gold detection capabilities. There might actually be gold in that darn hill, but Gondo is more interested in Taeko Mizunuma, the nympho-divorcee daughter of Kaneshiro’s lieutenant and dig foreman.

Hard-Core is an awkward shaggy dog of a film, but it is compellingly earnest and refreshingly averse to cliché and sentimentality. Like Gondo, Yamashita clearly scorns cutesiness, but he connects with his characters on a very humanistic level. The science fiction elements are definitely on the light side, but they are still there, albeit rendered with defiantly low-fi grubbiness. Regardless, the film is probably best classified as an urban fable.

Takayuki Yamada does not say much, but he expresses quite a bit through glares and the black smoke that nearly wafts out of his ears. Takeru Satoh hits the right ambiguous notes as the hard-to-pin-down, but undeniably disdainful Sakon, while Yoshiyoshi Arakwa projects Ushiyama’s sensitive soul, without resorting to distasteful shtick or caricatures.

Based on Carib Marley well-regarded manga series, Hard-Core is sort of like Joel Shumacher’s Falling Down, crossed with The Iron Giant. There is plenty of commentary regarding the economic and social squeeze faced by working-class men without advanced degrees. Yet, what really makes the film work is the friendships that develop between the three outcasts. Recommended surprisingly highly, Hard-Core screens this Saturday (6/29), as part of NYAFF ’19.

NYAFF ’19: Samurai Marathon

Annaka is the Japanese analog for Marathon, Greece. It was there that modern Japanese marathon running originated. It was also the end of an era. Commodore Perry and his “Black Ships” ushered out the Edo Period and helped launch the Meiji Restoration, but the samurai and retainers of the Annaka Clan give the Bushido code a last hurrah in Bernard Rose’s Samurai Marathon, which screens as the opening night film of the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.

Of course, Perry is a bit flamboyant and cocksure—he is played by Rose’s frequent collaborator, Danny Huston. Frankly, he probably could have been worse, considering the ace in the hole he carried with him: firearms. The Shogun’s representative certainly sat up and took notice. Suddenly, Edo is more receptive to Western ways, but not a traditionalist like Katsuakira Itakura, the Annaka clan leader. To re-instill discipline within the ranks, he decrees all clan samurai and foot soldiers must participate in a cross-country foot-race throughout the surrounding lands.

As a samurai in the accounting division, Jinnai Karasawa must also participate, but he is in better shape than his Clark Kent persona suggests. He is actually a ninja secretly spying on the Annaka Clan for the shogunate, just as his forerunners had done before him. Unfortunately, he misinterprets the marathon as a cover for rebellion, but he is unable to retract his coded message to Edo once he realizes his error. When the Shogun’s forces arrive to wipe out the exhausted Annaka samurai at the finish line, Karasawa will have to make some hard choices.

So, basically, a Jidaigeki hack-and-slash battle (it’s a good one) breaks out during a track meet. Arguably, Marathon is maybe only 10% a sports film, if that. Instead, it specializes in intrigue and warfare. There is also a Shakespearean subplot involving Itakura’s independent minded daughter, Princess Yuki, who disguises herself as a man to sneak past the check point, so she can study Western art in Edo. However, her masquerade is easily seen through by characters who are evidently much more observant than anyone in Twelfth Night.

As a filmmaker, Rose has been all over the map from prestige projects like Immortal Beloved and Anna Karenina (1997) to trashy genre films like sxtape and the immortally beloved Candyman. You never really know what you might get from him, but happily, this is a return to form that definitely ranks with his prestige picture peaks. The is a big canvas historical, with a large cast of characters and a sweeping Philip Glass score, for extra high-brow status. More importantly, it is also a lot of fun, thanks to the brisk action and sly skullduggery.

Takeru Satoh (Kenshin Himura in the Rurouni Kenshin franchise) is perfectly cast as the aloof and conflicted Karasawa. Nana Komatsu finds a credible middle ground as the Princess, portraying her as neither a push-over distressed damsel or an invincible Michelle Yeoh-style swordswoman, but a gutsy forward-thinker. At times, Naoto Takenaka plays not-so retired retainer Mataemon Kurita a bit overly broad, but several supporting players really throw down with authority as various surprise turncoats within the Annaka ranks.

If you can’t a enjoy a film like Samurai Marathon, you’re probably a real killjoy. Yet, it is also classy, respectable cinema. You can tell, because it was produced by Jeremy Thomas (whose producer credits include The Last Emperor, Little Buddha, and Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence). Enthusiastically recommended, Samurai Marathon screens Friday (6/28), as the opening night film of this year’s NYAFF.

NYAFF ’19: Jinpa

Many contemporary mysteries cover forensic matters in graphic detail, but hardly any address the spiritual repercussions of murder. However, in Tibetan, karma trumps more mundane worldly concerns. One murder definitely begets bad karma and perhaps another murder to come in Pema Tseden’s Jinpa, which screens during the 219 New York Asian Film Festival.

Meet Jinpa the Tibetan truck driver, who is played by Jinpa, the uni-named Tibetan actor and poet, who gives a lift to a hitchhiker also named Jinpa. Before stopping to pick up the standoffish younger man, Jinpa somehow ran over a sheep, which was odd, considering the desolate openness of that stretch of highway. As a devout Buddhist, the incident clearly shakes Jinpa (the driver). Ye, he initially takes it in stride when the younger Jinpa matter-of-factly tells him he has tracked down his father’s killer to a village on the hardscrabble Kekexili Plateau, so he now intends to murder him in turn.

After seeking prayers and religious guidance for the sheep at the nearest monastery, the older Jinpa retraces his steps, hoping to find the younger Jinpa, but his purposes are not clear. Does he want to prevent the other Jinpa from irreparably damaging his karma, or does he have darker motives? All will not be illuminated through a series of visually striking flashbacks (Tseden’s technique of sharply focusing on the Jinpa in the foreground, while blurring the characters in the background could become widely imitated). Who knows, maybe the Jinpas are the same person?

Tseden is a major world-caliber auteur, well-and-beyond his importance as an independent Tibetan voice and chronicler of everyday Tibetan life. Jinpa the film is a heavy statement, but at times, it is either too obvious or too murky. There is no question Ritu Sarin & Tenzing Sonam’s The Sweet Requiem functions more successfully as a Tibetan revenge thriller, but the visuals crafted by Tseden and cinematographer Lu Songye still demand your attention.

Jinpa (the thesp) is terrific as Jinpa (the elder), creating a persona that is both compellingly devout and world-weary. As Jinpa the Younger, Genden Phuntsok has a screen presence worthy of spaghetti westerns. Yet, Sonam Wangmo steals all her scenes, like you’ve never seen before, as the snarky, but weirdly hospitable innkeeper. Honestly, she could be a star in any country.

Jinpa is an intriguing film, but its meditative merits could also be uncharitably described as “slow cinema.” Frankly, this is the sort of film NYAFF programmers used to mock back in the day, but it is an important work of cinema, so the festival deserves credit for being the first to bring it to New York. Recommended for those who want to be temporarily immersed in the Tibetan landscape and head-space, Jinpa screens this Saturday (6/29), as part of NYFF ’19.

Tiananmen: The People Versus the Party

Ironically, the 1980s are largely remembered as a progressive era of openness in China, but it came to a sudden, violent end in 1989, on the bloody grounds of Tiananmen Square. The death toll remains unknown, but no serious historian doubts it numbers in the thousands. The Chinese Communist Party has scrubbed it from the public consciousness as best they can, but the images of the peaceful protests and violent crack down remain indelibly etched in the memories of everyone who watched the live Western television broadcasts. Yet, there is considerably more to the story. A comprehensive picture of the epochal events emerges through eye-witness testimony and leaked documents now known as the “Tiananmen Papers” in Tiananmen: The People Versus The Party¸ directed by Ian MacMillan and co-written by MacMillan and Audrey Maurion, which premieres this Tuesday on most PBS outlets.

In early 1989, people could reasonably assume democracy would eventually come to Mainland China. It was starting to break out nearly everywhere else. After all, Deng Xiaping was a survivor of the Cultural Revolution, whose son was paralyzed as a result of Mao’s madness. Yet, several of the on-screen commentators explain how Deng’s experience led him to be wary of mass movements, such as the students’ Tiananmen demonstrations. Buzz words like “turmoil” held great significance for him.

Hopefully, most viewers already understand how the demonstrations were ignited by the death and subsequent state funeral for Hu Yaobang, a reformer unceremoniously purged by the Party. However, the extent to which every day Beijingers adopted the students will be a revelation to some Westerners. Essentially, the assault was not just an action on the Square, but an invasion of the entire city, conducted by troops dispatched from the provinces, who had to first fight their way through the barricades erected by the common citizenry to protect the beloved students. It truly was the People versus the Party.

There is also a popular conception that the protestors over-played their hand, which is true to an extent, which became tragically obvious. However, many of the original protest organizers had a better read on the local situation and advocated greater caution and eventually evacuation. In fact, those massacred on the Square disproportionately hailed from the provinces (just like the troops firing on them).

What happened was truly a “war crime” as one of the editors of The Tiananmen Papers points out (with great emotion), but it was even costlier over the long term. The students who were murdered or imprisoned were the best and brightest of their generation. Those who took their places are the ones who toady to power. Deng wanted to crush every last remnant of democratic reformist dissent and he effectively succeeded. Younger generations have no idea what happened in Tiananmen Square and their parents are too frightened or too ashamed to tell them. Yet, the truth is out there.

MacMillan and Maurion give a gripping, step-by-step account of what happened, conveying a dramatic sense of the pre-Tiananmen optimism, the euphoric promise of the protests’ early days, and the shock and terror of the PLA’s assault on the Square. People Versus Party is an important historical document in its own right, because it incorporates a great deal of on-camera testimony from surviving student leaders, including Wuer Kaixi, Shen Tong, Wang Dan, Rose Tang (who is especially moving and damning in her commentary).

People Versus Party would be a significant television event at any time, but it is eerily timely in light of the recent democracy protests in Hong Kong. Thirty years later, the Party is arguably even more oppressive and corrupt. Nobody participating in the Tiananmen Square protests or the Umbrella Protests wanted a revolution, but that might be the only way to bring democratic reform and transparent governance to the Chinas.

Regardless, People Versus Party is an authoritative and sobering work of television history and journalism. It will bring clarity to most viewers’ understanding of events thirty years ago, chilling their souls in the process. Very highly recommended, Tiananmen: The People Versus the Party airs this Tuesday (6/25) on most PBS stations nationwide.

The Command: The Kursk Russian Submarine Disaster

Although it only had a fracture of the death toll, Russia’s Kursk submarine disaster was sort of a mini-Chernobyl. It exposed the incompetence of the Russian Navy and the utter indifference of its leadership for all the world to see. NATO could have helped, but Putin waited five days to ask for help, while still enjoying his seaside vacation. It is a cold, claustrophobic tragedy that unfolds in Thomas Vinterberg’s The Command (a.k.a. Kursk), which opens today in New York.

Hopefully, we all know this will end badly, but if you didn’t, Putin likes the way you consume news and media. The Kursk, an Oscar class Soviet-designed submarine loaded with nuclear cruise missiles was participating in a large-scale naval operation intended to intimidate the West. Well, so much for that. The sub captain was warned their Big Bertha missile was running a little too hot, but he chose to continue anyway—and then boom.

Mikhail Averin will try to keep the rag tag remnant of survivors alive in the aft chambers, in the vain hope a rescue party will reach them in time. Admiral Vyacheslav Grudzinsky is willing to do whatever it takes to save the Kursk crewmembers, including accepting the help of British and Norwegian recovery specialists. Unfortunately, the top brass above him drags their feet, hoping a barely sea-worthy Russian submersible can get the job done instead, for reasons of propaganda ad paranoia. Of course, Grudzinsky understands better than anyone how badly the Russian rescue teams have been equipped and maintained in recent years.

What happened to the men of the Kursk (and the 71 children they left behind) was a disgrace, but it inspires some of the films most intense scenes, like when Averin’s wife Tanya publicly shames Grudzinsky’s commanding officer at a media op. Frankly, it is hard to believe Putin was subsequently re-elected, but then again, its always been hard to believe, hasn’t it?

The Flemish Matthias Schoenaerts makes a credible Russian, but he is way too big to believe as a submariner. Regardless, his character is definitely a strong, silent stereotype. In fact, none of the Kursk crewmembers really stand out. In contrast. Peter Simonischek (Mr. Toni Erdmann) is terrific as Grudzinsky, conveying all his prickly contradictions as an old school loyalist, who also always happened to be a reformer by inclination. Likewise, Colin Firth adds some heft and authority as Commodore David Russell, Grudzinsky’s old friendly rival. Of course, Max Von Sydow effortlessly projects sophisticated menace as the sinister, obfuscating Russian Navy chief.

The scenes aboard the Kursk look appropriately dark, dank, and confined, but the film is still a long way removed from the dogme95 movement of which Vinterberg was once considered a leader. Some of his old admirers might find it satisfying to see him doing some interesting things here with aspect ratio shifts. Yet, this is one of the rare submarine films that has its best moments above water (sort of making it the polar opposite of Das Boot, the series). Recommended for fans of military drama, The Command opens today (6/21) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

DWF ’19: The Great Record Hunt (Pilot)

LP collectors know way more about music than downloaders. That is because in most record stores, “new arrivals” is its own section, but it usually isn’t broken down by category. When you flip through, you inevitably pick up on things outside your original field of interest. Record stores are still around and many of them are busier than ever. Host and co-director Ethan H. Minsker takes viewers to many of them in his musical-collectible travel show, The Great Record Hunt, which screens as part of the pilot section during this year’s Dances With Films.

Rather conveniently, the pilot starts in New York City, where Minsker gives viewers the impression LP sales and merchandising is almost entirely about rock and its cousins. Granted, Footlights, the venerable sound track and cast album specialist, closed years ago, but New York is still blessed with many specialty records stores that would add very different flavors to the show’s mix.

Fred Cohen’s Jazz Record Center is a glaring omission, especially considering its idiosyncratic location in a Flower District office building that looks like it could also host Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe as tenants. For jazz collectors, the full-service Academy LPs is also a prime go-to, but they are only mentioned in passing by an indie label-owner, who used to work out of their basement.

Of course, nobody begrudges the time devoted to Generations and the Brooklyn Flea, but there is considerably more to New York record-collecting eco-system. As a host, Minsker is enthusiastic, but his fannishness starts to wear a little thin. The pilot also features a performance by Baby Shakes, who are telegenic, but it would be nice if artists from other genres get features spots in subsequent episodes.

To some extent, the pilot serves as a primer on record-collecting for the poor turntable-less out there. If you need to be convinced this is thing than you’re not as hip as you think. However, New Yorkers will get a much-needed lesson in supply-and-demand that could help their economic literacy. When supply is high, it drives down the price. That is why you won’t get much trade-in for your grandparents’ Sinatra records, which still have tons of copies floating around out there. The concept for Great Record Hunt is terrific, but it needs more character and rootsier, bluesier seasoning. Maybe they should have started in New Orleans instead. There is still potential, but real record collectors will be a little bored by The Great Record Hunt pilot, when it screens tomorrow (6/22) as part of TV Block 3, at Dances With Films.

DWF ’19: Celebrity Crush

Jonathan Blakely is no Linda Blair. After appearing as a child actor in the cult 1980’s slasher Chain Face Clown, he managed to land a few acting jobs, but his adulthood career never amounted to much. Nevertheless, his biggest fan, Emily Lynessa still developed a creepy fixation on him. She will act on her psychotic obsession when Blakely makes a convention appearance in Oliver Robins’ Celebrity Crush, which screens during this year’s Dances With Films, in Hollywood, USA.

By casting himself as Blakely, Robins automatically adds a layer of meta-notoriety to the film, since he appeared as young Robbie Freeling in Poltergeist I and II (but he didn’t get to make the trip to Chicago in Poltergeist III). Frankly, most fans probably better remember the late Heather O’Rourke as Carol Anne, but Robins was there too. In Crush, Blakely’s feelings about Chain Face are rather complex. There is bad blood between him and the producers (or maybe they are the rights holders, since they all look like they are about the same age), but he has just started cashing in on the lucrative convention circuit.

Blakely’s old co-star Peter Norvis was supposed to guide him through the gig, but he will become Lynessa’s first victim instead. Technically, she has no desire to hurt Blakely (whereas Norvis, not so much). The deranged fan just wants to live happily ever after with Blakely, so she is willing to drug him and hold him in captivity. Wisely, she does this in Florida, the home state of Scientology, where such things happen all the time.

It is impossible to escape the long shadow Misery casts over Crush, especially since the Stephen King adaptation is a superior film in every possible way. Frankly, Crush just looks cheap and many of its performances are rather awkward, to put it diplomatically. Admittedly, Robins and company are intentionally going for a grubby, lo-fi look and texture, but this film hardly passes for professional grade.

Arguably, the best part about Crush is the way Robins intercuts footage of Chain Face Clown throughout the film, at particularly fateful or intense moments. Ironically, these scenes are visually more intriguing and scarier than the actual narrative involving Blakely and Lynessa.

Robins is not bad as his analog and Melissa McNerney is pretty good as Blakely’s long-suffering fiancée. Admittedly, Jake T. Getman is also well-cast as the young Blakely in the film-within-the-film, but that is about as far as it goes. Yet, perhaps the greatest problem with the film is its tonal indecisiveness, frozen in a no man’s land between nostalgic shtick and Annie Bates’ hobbling scene. Not recommended, Celebrity Crush screens tomorrow (6/21), as part of Dances With Films.

Nightmare Cinema, from Mick Garris & Co.

This faded movie palace looks ominous, yet it will still bring on waves of nostalgia for many viewers. It is a place of nightmares, but at least it is aesthetically appealing. On the other hand, hospitals and medical offices turn out to be nearly as deadly, but they are totally lacking in style points when they factor in three of the five macabre tales that make up Nightmare Cinema, a new horror anthology film overseen by Mick Garris, who helmed the wrap around segments and the final constituent story.

When people wander into the Rialto, the creepy projectionist shows them a film of their ultimate personal nightmare—and then kills them, or maybe leaves them in some sort of nether-limbo. The first tale, “The Thing in the Woods,” is a wild ride involving a slasher dubbed “The Welder,” due to his mask and torch, who soon gives way to a swarm of rampaging alien spiders. Director Alejandro Brugues plays it all for bloody, gory, over-the-top laughs and succeeds on his own meathead terms.

Surprisingly, Joe Dante’s “Mirari” is the weakest of the bunch, even though it stars Richard Chamberlain as the titular plastic surgeon. Dante’s foray feels like a derivative riff on the original Twilight Zone episode “Eye of the Beholder,” especially since it was written by Richard Christian Matheson (even though the classic teleplay was penned by Serling rather than his father). Still, Chamberlain chews the scenery with admirable glee.

Ryuhei Kitamura’s “Mashit” is similar in spirit to “The Thing in the Woods,” with restraint and good taste getting thrown to the wind in favor of nutty visuals and escalating chaos. It starts as a rather dark and moody yarn regarding demonic possession in a Catholic school but it builds to the spectacle of the morally compromised headmaster priest hacking and slashing throngs of possessed kids. That really is the whole point of it all, so there is no point in protesting its typical anti-Catholic biases.

David Slade’s “This Way to Egress” is easily the best, most stylish, original, and unsettling entry of the bunch, by far. A disturbed mother is stuck in a Kafkaesque doctor’s waiting room, growing increasingly concerned by her young sons’ erratic behavior, the rather inhuman look of the receptionist, and the apparent dirtiness of the environment. Something is definitely off, so she has started to fear for her sanity. She probably is going crazy, but the truth of her situation is considerably more desperate.

Slade engages in some remarkably economical world-building during the course of “Egress,” taking the audience someplace very strange and basically twisting our minds. It would make sense to end with it as the grand crescendo, but there are reasons why Garris’s “Dead” still fits best at the end. Riley is a piano prodigy who sees his parents murdered before him—and then he starts seeing dead people, like the kid in The Sixth Sense. Naturally, there are plenty of dead people to see in the hospital, where he is recuperating, but the dangers he faces are very human. Faly Rakotohanana is believable and engaging as Riley, but Lexy Panterra really steals all her scenes as Casey, a slightly older girl in his ward, who also has the “shine.”

Arguably, Garris gets the film’s best performances in “Dead,” whereas “Egress” features the best writing, cinematography, and direction. Frankly, Nightmare Cinema is definitely one the stronger horror anthologies in recent years and most likely one of the more consistent. Mickey Rourke (Oscar-nominated for The Wrestler a mere ten years ago) just shambles disinterestedly through the connective scenes as the Projectionist, but Garris and Slade deliver first-class work—and Brugues and Kitamura are never boring. Recommended for horror fans with a good deal of enthusiasm, Nightmare Cinema opens this Friday (6/21) in LA, at the Arena Cinelounge.

Ghost Light: Good Luck Staging Macbeth

Shakespeare never gets the credit he deserves for being a writer of the macabre. Hamlet has ghosts and graveyards, while Richard III is all about a psychotic hunchback. The best example is probably Macbeth, with its witches and curses. Of course, we are supposed to call it “The Scottish Play” because of actors’ superstitions. Remember how they refuse to say the “M word” the next time an actor lectures you on “science.” Nevertheless, when somebody tempts fate by uttering the unutterable, it leads to a lot of supernatural trouble. On the plus side, the amateurish summer stock troupe’s performances improve tremendously in John Stimpson’s Ghost Light, which releases today on DVD.

Henry Asquith’s company has come to mount the Big Mac play in a picturesque country playhouse. During the intense week of rehearsals, they will stay in the comfy farm house adjoining the converted-barn theater. Hammy Alex Pankhurst will be playing Macbeth thanks to his deep pockets. Brooding Thomas Ingram will be playing Banquo, even though he believes he should have the title role, by virtue of his superior talent. Liz Beth Stevens does not disagree with Ingram, whom she is seeing on the sly, behind the pompous Pankhurst’s oblivious back.

Disgusted by it all, Ingram and Stevens invoke the dreaded name and the cursed play responds. Soon, they find themselves in positions very much like those in the play. However, their rapport is threatened by the arrival of a mysterious backpacking yoga tourist, who agrees to take on the part of “Second Witch.” Then accidents start happening.

Ghost Light is a low-key supernatural comedy that is small in scope, but still rather pleasant to watch. It features a game cast, all of whom seem to enjoy the larkiness of it all, especially Cary Elwes, who absolutely gorges on the scenery as Pankhurst. Arguably, Elwes doesn’t get the horror cred he deserves either, even though he was in several dozen Saw movies and had recurring roles on Stranger Things and The X-Files.

Be that as it may, Roger Bart scores most of the film’s laughs as Asquith, who manages to be both indulgent of his actors, but still bitingly sarcastic. Tom Riley (Leonardo in Da Vinci’s Demons) and Shannyn Sossamon go all in as the Macbeth-tormented lover-thesps, while Carol Kane acts like Carol Kane, as Madeline Styne, as “The First Witch.”

There are some clever bits in Ghost Light, but Stimpson and co-screenwriter Geoffrey Taylor are more interested in Noises Off-style back-stage gags than really delving into the Bard’s creepy side. One wonders what Liam Gavin and the team behind A Dark Song might have done with this premise. Still, Stimpson & Taylor deserve credit for originality. Recommended as an appealing palate-cleanser for horror fans, Ghost Light releases today on DVD and VOD.