AAIFF ’10: Taipei 24H

Founded in the early 1700’s, much of Taipei’s civic character comes from its ultra-modern architecture. An international hub of economic activity, Taipei bustles with energy. Eight Taiwanese filmmakers capture the diversity of life in the city over the course of a single day in Taipei 24H, an anthology film commissioned by Taiwanese Public Television, which screens at this year’s Asian American International Film Festival.

24H starts cute with Feng-feng Cheng’s Share the Morning. When walking to school, a group of school children spies a cat stuck up a tree. Unfortunately, the adults of the neighborhood are rather disorganized in their rescue attempts. Filmed from the perspective of the cat, it is a light and amusing kick-off to the film. It is followed by Chang-zer Niu’s Just a Little Run, a story of two school children running away from home. Though it initially brings to mind kids-on-the-street films like Children of Invention, Niu keeps it lighter. As it turns out, this episode is more about puppy love than survival.

Perhaps the most mature installment is Debbie Hsu’s Summer Heat, a film about foiled illicit love. While the would-be lovers do not acknowledge it, evidently this fateful day is St. Valentines, which plays an important role in Hsian-tse Cheng’s Save the Lover, arguably the most fully developed story of the film. A suspicious mob boss orders his young flunky to spy on his beautiful young lover, but she turns the tables on him quite emphatically. Edgy yet oddly sweet, it is one of the highlights of 24H. With the Taipei 101 Tower figuring prominently in it, Save also makes the best use of Taipei as a distinctive setting.

Of course, anthology films are uneven by their nature. Some vignettes feel a bit slight, like Chi-yuam Lee’s Smoke, but at least it serves as an effective transition from day into night. Clearly, the most experimental contribution is Ying-jung Chen’s Dream Walker. While it ultimately redeems itself, Dream’s self-consciously surreal imagery and techno soundtrack give it the vibe of a dated music video. Though somewhat sentimental, Je-yi An’s family drama Owl Service nicely conveys Taipei’s late night ambiance and showcases a very strong performance from its young lead.

Appropriately, 24H saves its deepest and most accomplished film for last—4:00 AM to be exact. Featuring renowned Taiwanese auteur Tsai Ming-liang directed, in a reversal of roles, by his cinematic alter-ego, actor Kang-sheng Lee, Remembrance is deceptively simple. Having sold her business, the proprietress of a late night coffee shop is joined by a regular customer for a final cup of java and to watch a documentary on Luo Man-fei, a Taiwanese ballerina who died of lung cancer, but whose celebrated performance of choreography shaped by the experiences of Tiananmen Square survivors still has the power to move the night owls decades later. Brief but elegant, Remembrance celebrates quiet moments of beauty and those who inspire them. It is a perfect ending to the collaborative film.

Concluding with its finest hour, 24H is well worth seeing for Remembrance alone. While there are ups and downs throughout the day, there more than enough entertaining moments throughout 24H to recommend it as a whole. It screens as part of the 2010 AAIFF this coming Sunday (7/18) at the Chelsea Clearview.

Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Inferno

It would have been a case of an old master dramatically one-upping the young turks, but it was not to be. Instead, Henri-Georges Clouzot’s radical foray into psychological expressive filmmaking cratered during its chaotic production. However, 185 cans of film survived of Clouzot’s obsessive tests and aborted three-week shoot, giving viewers a tantalizing sense of what his creative vision might have looked like had he successfully realized it in Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea Annonier’s documentary Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Inferno (trailer here), which opens this Friday at the IFC Center.

Often labeled the French Hitchcock, Clouzot was one of the most successful French director’s of his time. Yet, the Nouvelle Vague was often rather dismissive of the man who helmed classics like Diabolique and The Wages of Fear. In 1964, he easily secured the cast he wanted for his prospective new film. Romy Schneider was to portray Odette, the young vivacious wife of middle-aged inn-keeper Marcel, played by Serge Reggiani. Initially tranquil in their wedded bliss, Marcel’s obsessive jealousy would lead to his emotional implosion. If this premise sounds vaguely familiar, it is because Claude Chabrol’s L’Enfer, starring Emmanuelle Béart, was based on Clouzot’s original screenplay. Ultimately though, Chabrol made a Chabrol film rather than the deliberately experimental work Clouzot envisioned.

Clouzot filmed the couple’s daily lives in black-and-white, but Marcel’s jealous rages were rendered in psychedelic color. With morphing faces, surrealist dreamscapes, color inversions, and other bizarre optical innovations, Inferno would have been one strange head-trip. It was also somewhat racy, featuring Schneider, already an international superstar, and French starlet Dany Carrel bare-breasted. This was completely unlike any previous Clouzot film, yet Columbia Pictures gave him carte blanche to do as he pleased.

Many of the surviving crew members speculate the blank check from Hollywood might have been a mixed blessing, removing the imposed discipline of financial constraints from a production that spun out of control. Relations deteriorated on the set, until eventually the whole enterprise collapsed. Yet, the swirling images that survive sans soundtrack still have a disconcerting effect.

Bromberg and Medrea Annonier interview a number of Clouzot’s surviving collaborators on the ill-fated project, including his assistant director Costa-Gavras. They also stage readings of Clouzot’s script with Bérénice Bejo and Jacques Gamlin as the troubled couple, but this seems somewhat unnecessary given the existence of the Chabrol film (which the documentary never references). Still, the combined effect their original footage and Clouzot’s extant film and story-boards give an intriguing impression of what might have been.

Documenting some compelling cinema history, Bromberg and Medrea Annonier’s film will drastically alter cineastes’ perceptions of Clouzot as an auteur. Indeed, forty-some years later, his innovative visual effects still retain a disorienting effect, and even in such unusual archival footage, Romy Schneider is always worth watching on screen. A great cinematic “what-if’ story, Clouzot’s Inferno opens this Friday (7/16) in New York at the IFC Center.

AAIFF ’10: Turn of the Harvest & Daughters

There was a time when rural peasants represented an ideologically privileged class in China. Today, they mostly lead hardscrabble lives of strife and want, particularly when compared to the urban professional classes. It is an iniquity frequently captured by the digital-generation of independent Chinese directors, as well as two American-based filmmakers whose stylistically compatible shorts set in China will screen during this year’s Asian American International Film Festival.

D-Generation documentaries represent the living conditions of the unfortunates who exist on the margins of Chinese society with scrupulous accuracy. However, their length and studiously languid aesthetics can try the patience of some audiences. In contrast, Tani Ikeda’s documentary short Turn of the Harvest never overstays it’s welcome, but still gives viewers an honest, tactile sense of its subjects’ lives.

A late middle-aged couple works their wheat field, quietly joking between themselves. The man has a broken finger he has not treated for three weeks. Yet, outwardly they seem happy. However, as Ikeda interviews his wife, it becomes clear their relationship is not all it might appear. Especially painful for her was a decision to relinquish one of the twins she gave birth to, out of economic necessity. Surprisingly, they choose to give up their son, because boys cost more to raise.

Of course, boys tend to be preferred over girls, which accounts for the looming shortage of marriageable women under China’s restrictive family planning. Take for instance the family of fourteen year year-old Maple in Chloé Zhao’s narrative short Daughters. With a coveted baby boy on the way, her parents suddenly have one daughter too many. Coldly pragmatic, they see only two options. Either they foist off her sweet tempered young sister on a distant family member or they arrange her marriage to a disturbingly old man. Not surprisingly, such news causes confusion and resentment for the preteen.

Daughters is nine minutes of focused heartbreak, featuring a devastating performance from young Luo Qian as Maple. Though brief, it is undeniably assured filmmaking, all the more impressive considering it was the NYU alumnus’s second year film.

While Harvest is a documentary and Daughters is a narrative, both convey rural China with unvarnished naturalism. They are quite well produced short works from young filmmakers with tremendous promise. Daughters screens this coming Saturday (7/16) at the Chelsea Clearview as part of AAIFF’s Oh Family, Where Art Thou? block of shorts, while Harvest screens the next day at the Quad as part of the Untold Stories shorts program.

AAIFF ’10: Manila Skies

Poverty is a killer, which makes Manila one deadly city. Caught in desperate economic circumstances, one man resorts to an incredibly ill-conceived hijacking. A film “based on a true story,” with an emphasis on the quotation marks, Palme d’Or winning filmmaker Raymond Red shows the audience what led the hijacker to such an extreme act in Manila Skies (trailer here), the opening night selection of the 2010 Asian American International Film Festival.

Raul had a job, but he evidently loses it when requesting time off from his boss. In truth, he probably could have been smarter in how he asks. In need of money to visit his ailing father, Raul wants to apply for better paying work overseas. Of course, in the Philippines, this process involves copious layers of bureaucratic paperwork, which he does not have an aptitude for. Empty-handed and unemployed by the end of the day, Raul is finally vulnerable to his drinking buddies’ dodgy scheme to plunder the office of a shady businessman.

Not criminally minded, Raul finally relents only out of frustration and the cumulative impact of their ringleader Crispin’s unceasing class warfare rhetoric. Needless to say, things do not go according to plan.

Though ostensibly a crime story, Manila clearly follows more in the tradition of socially conscious art films like The Bicycle Thief than action driven fare like Passenger 57. Relentlessly naturalistic, Red revels in the mean conditions Raul endures. However, he is also a bit of a trickster, pulling off some surprisingly effective narrative misdirection.

As Raul, Raul Arellano keeps the audience off-balance with his intense but ambiguous performance. Indeed, he makes it difficult to form a hard and fast judgment on the everyman antihero until nearly the film’s final moments. While only seen briefly during the film’s early scenes in the provincial village of Romblon, veteran Filipino actor Ronnie Lazaro also brings a tragic dignity to the film that effectively sets up the story that follows.

As a country with several active Islamic and Maoist terrorist cells, it seems highly ironic that Manila focuses on such an impotent act of economically motivated terror. Still, it is a well-crafted film that fits together quite cleverly in retrospect. An intriguing and pointed work, Manila should generate a lot of discussion when it opens AAIFF. Recommended for discerning viewers, it screens at the Chelsea Clearview this Thursday (7/15).

AAIFF ’10: The Hirosaki Players (short)

It would have been incredible to see Toshiro Mifune on-stage, regardless of the production. In that spirit, a capacity house has turned out to see Kentaro, the famous but cantankerous samurai actor, rather than his son’s pretentious play in Jeff Sousa’s New York-set Japanese language short The Hirosaki Players (trailer here), which screens at the 2010 Asian American International Film Festival.

Though the curtain should be rising any minute, Kentaro and the playwright Tsubasa are still having “creative differences” likely exacerbated by their strained father-son relationship. Kentaro thinks the play is overwritten, whereas Tsubasa attributes the over-the-hill actor’s difficulties to age and attitude. Yet they each have reasons for wanting the New York premiere to be a success.

Last year, AAIFF featured an unusually strong slate of short films and this year’s festival looks like it upholds that tradition. A case in point, Hirosaki is a well-produced, entertaining back-stage drama that might be described as a My Favorite Year inspired by the films of Kurosawa rather than Errol Flynn. It also boasts a convincing cast, particularly leads Ikkô Furuya and Eijiro Ozaki, who play off each other nicely as Kentaro and Tsubasa, respectively. Relatively longish for a short at about twenty minutes, it makes its point without overstaying its welcome.

Smart and classy, Hirosaki is one of the better short films currently on the festival circuit. It screens as part of AAIFF’s Oh Family Where Art Thou? program of shorts this coming Friday (7/16) at the Chelsea Clearview.

Japan Cuts ’10: Memories of Matsuko

Even though Matsuko Kawajiri always has a song in her heart, one would never expect to find her in a movie musical. Her world might have been candy-colored, but it was also cruel, constantly denying her the love she yearned for in Tetsuya Nakashima emotionally draining movie musical Memories of Matsuko (trailer here), a “Best of the Unreleased Naughties” selection screening of the 2010 Japan Cuts: Festival of Contemporary Japanese Film.

Shô Kawajiri never knew he had an Aunt Matsuko until his father off-handedly tells him of her murder. Going through something of an aimless period in his own life, he agrees to clean out his Aunt’s apartment for his somewhat estranged old man. As he rummages through the remnants of her fractured life, he comes to know his Aunt better in death than anyone knew her in life.

Matsuko endured more suffering than seems humanly possible. Once a conscientious teacher popular for her singing voice, she was unfairly dismissed for a crime she did not commit. Disowned by her family, she tolerated one abusive relationship after another, desperately seeking the love her father withheld. Spiraling ever downward, she is lured into a career of vice, even doing a stint in prison. At least there she meets of her few true friends, the future porn-star tycoon Megumi Sawamura. Unfortunately, the ever-suffering Kawajiri is not even close to bottoming out, yet she perseveres, like an indomitable Candide in a blizzard of humiliation.

Though at times it presents itself as an over-the-top parody, Memories is an absolutely exhausting film. It never, ever lets up on its poor kind-hearted protagonist. Indeed, Miki Nakatani’s earnest performance is so endearingly goofy and vulnerable, it makes Memories that much more difficult to watch. Beyond compelling, she is frankly devastating. She is the film, but Asuka Kurosawa is also quite touching as the alluring Sawamura.

Strangely, Memories works surprisingly well on a musical level, particularly Matsuko’s poignant yet devilishly catchy theme song by Gabriele Roberto and Takeshi Shibuya. Also represented at this year’s Japan Cuts with Confessions, the brilliant opening selection, Nakashima is obviously not drawn to cheerful trifles. Ironically, while Memories is a far more depressing cinematic experience (despite its bright colors and upbeat songs), it ultimately expresses a deeply humanist sentiment not found in Confessions. In fact, Memories explicitly states: “no life is meaningless.”

Fearless in the title role, Nakatani justly swept the Japanese film awards for Memories. Technically and dramatically accomplished, it is a film sure to inspire passionate reactions. Love it or hate, when Memories is over, you will know you saw a film. It screens at the Japan Society this coming Thursday (7/15).

Not-So Mixed Blessings: Good Fortune

According to filmmaker Landon Van Soest, $2.3 trillion (with a “t”) worth of western foreign aid has flowed into Africa over the last fifty years. What has been the result of these enormous outlays? Mostly ill-will and corruption according to the average Kenyans whose daily struggles Van Soest documents in Good Fortune (trailer here), which airs this coming Tuesday on PBS’s POV.

UN program manager Sara Candiracci does not exactly have the common touch. The poverty of Nairobi’s Kibera slum personally offends her, which is laudable. Partnering with the Kenyan government, the UN is launching an ambitious redevelopment project for Kibera. However, she admits up front: “the strategy to move people and to bring them back is still not clear,” yet the residents should welcome the project anyway.

Kibera might be an eyesore to Candiracci, but it represents a better way of life for midwife Silva Adhiambo. Finding ample work there, she happily calls it home. In one telling scene, she perfectly illustrates why Kibera is so skeptical of the UN’s plans. The so-called slum is actually surrounded by three modern housing developments. One high-rise estate was billed as low income housing during construction, only to become home to well-connected government officials when completed. Another neighboring housing project remains unfinished due to litigation stemming from government embezzlement. A third development was allegedly built by Kenya’s First Lady with western aid money earmarked for AIDS programs and then sold for a tidy profit. Indeed, having gone down this road before, the Kibera neighborhood is dead set against the UN project, but Candiracci and the Kenyan government are not listening.

It is refreshingly shocking to watch a documentary so openly skeptical of the UN (on PBS no less). However, over in the rural Yala region, Fortune finds itself in more familiar documentary territory, as it openly questions the policies of Dominion Farms, an Oklahoma-based agri-business led by Calvin Burgess, its evangelical (but extremely un-media savvy) CEO. Burgess is determined to make the Yala Swamp Africa’s breadbasket, so he has flooded the area to create a state of the art rice paddy. Unfortunately, that has wrecked the livelihood of local herder Jackson Omondi. He also accuses Dominion of using harmful chemicals, a charge which the company is not allowed air time to rebut (at least in the broadcast cut).

Overall though, Fortune is quite even-handed, casting western agribusiness, the UN, and the national Kenyan government in the same unflattering light. However, at least Dominion is really doing what they say they are (whether the community wants it is another question). As for that temporary housing Candiracci promises, none is ever seen in the film. Yet, plenty of squats are demolished for the sake of the UN project.

Van Soest strictly adheres to a fly-on-the-wall perspective, simply filming his POV figures as they struggle with the consequences of this unwanted help. As a result, there are not a lot of opportunities to add extraneous editorial commentary. Still, there are plenty of field interviews with Burgess and Candiracci, but neither proves to be a persuasive spokesman.

Whether it is a fair to call Candiracci a hypocrite is debatable, but it is clear she has contempt for small projects, favoring big, conspicuous undertakings. Yet it is the microcredit concept championed by Nobel Peace Prize winning economist Muhammad Yunus that seems to have the greatest multiplier effect for developing economies. Of course, a two hundred dollar loan to a budding Kibera entrepreneur probably would not sound as impressive on the NGO cocktail circuit.

To its credit, Fortune stimulates discussion of these sorts of issues. Van Soest also avoids portraying Adhiambo and Omondi as helpless victims, emphasizing their resiliency instead. Yet, it is hard not to get angry watching all the arrogance and corruption captured in the film. Well worth viewing, Fortune airs this coming Tuesday (7/13) on most PBS stations as part of the current season of POV. It will also be available for online streaming through the POV website beginning Wednesday (7/14) through October 12th.

Japan Cuts ’10: Nightmare Detective 2

Kyoichi Kagenuma might not be much, but if you are terrorized by your dreams, he is the one person you can turn to. Of course, he would much prefer to be left alone, but one high school student is desperate for his help in Shinya Tsukamoto’s Nightmare Detective 2 (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2010 Japan Cuts Festival’s “Best of the Unreleased Naughties” focus on films from the last ten years that have yet to be picked up for American theatrical distribution.

Cursed with tremendous psychic sensitivity, Kagenuma can enter other people’s dreams to seek out and alleviate subconscious disturbances. Unfortunately, the Nightmare Detective cannot heal himself. Experiencing nightmares of increasing severity, Kagenuma simply wants to be left alone. However, Yukie Mashiro is persistent. Ever since a taunting incident went too far, she has been plagued by dreams that seem to have a frighteningly real effect on her waking life. When Kagenuma finally relents, it is for his own reasons, rooted in his traumatic childhood.

The second installment of what is considered the most conventionally commercial work of genre rebel Tsukamoto, ND2 is not nearly as graphic as one might expect. Given the subject matter, most viewers will be on-guard for plentiful scenes inviting the question: is this reality or is it still a dream? Yet, the themes of forgiveness and mercy lend the film unexpected depth.

Yui Miura and Hanae Kan are almost shockingly good as the sleep deprived Mashiro and her former victim turned tormentor. Miura covers a particularly wide emotional range as the not-so-innocent victim. Though not an electrifying screen presence, Ryuhei Matsuda also delivers quite effectively in the film’s quiet dramatic moments.

Rest assured, Tsukamoto certainly creates a moody atmosphere and supplies a number of creepy moments. Yet, there is a sense of restraint evident in ND2 deliberately shunned in his bizarre cult Tetsuo series. Frankly, the film is the better for it. While representing the high end of Japanese horror, ND2 should still satisfy fans of the first film and the genre in general. It screens at the Japan Society this coming Wednesday (7/14) as part of the 2010 Japan Cuts: Festival of Contemporary Japanese Cinema.

Japan Cuts ’10: King of Thorn

Evidently in the future, technology will make fairy tales come true—at least the scary parts. For 160 patients who have contracted a lethal new disease, a mysterious cryogenic facility represents hope for a future. However, the story of Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty) takes on unforeseen significance for them in Kazuyoshi Katayama’s apocalyptic science fiction anime feature King of Thorn (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2010 Japan Cuts: Festival of New Japanese Cinema.

The Medusa virus is a death sentence. It lays dormant for sixty days and then turns its victims into calcified statues. Venus Gate, a big pharma conglomerate, offers to the chance to arrest the disease’s progression in their Cold Sleep Capsule Center (CSCC), while their scientists presumably work to develop a cure. However, the government is suspicious of their true intentions and for good reason. Their CEO is Ivan Vega, a former Soviet chemical weapons officer, and their majority stockholder is a doomsday cult. Sleep tight.

Needless to say, things do not proceed as advertised. Rudely awakened, they find their sleep chamber overgrown with thorny vines. Then the monsters attack, quickly thinning their ranks to an archetypal seven, including Kasumi Ishiki, a young school girl desperate to learn what has become of her identical twin. Unfortunately, the survivors have no idea how long they have slept, or if the world outside the ruined CSCC even still exists.

While Thorn’s characterization is roughly on par with the anime industry standard, its fusion of futuristic speculative fiction and old fashioned fairy tales is eerily effective. Indeed, Katayama’s briar imagery is quite memorable. Based on a manga series by Yuji Iwahara that has been licensed in America, it certainly shares common elements with a host of science fiction films, but it synthesizes them in intriguing ways. Yet, it is the tragic vibe that really distinguishes the film. Still, the final twenty minutes or so can be hair-pullingly frustrating, as Thorn burrows ever deeper into Matrix-like territory.

Thorn is a pretty cool manga to anime transfer. Granted, the core audience will be the otaku-fanboys, but those who come to Japan Cuts for more art-house oriented fare might find it a diverting surprise. It screens at the Japan Society (in Manhattan’s fashionable Turtle Bay neighborhood) this Sunday (7/11).

Japan Cuts ’10: Zero Focus

Japan’s defeat in WWII was a bitter pill to swallow, but the fall of old order represented opportunity to many, including Japanese women. Of course, they have to be the right sort of socially-advantaged women. One young newlywed gets a lesson in post-war sociology as she searches for her missing husband in Isshin Inudou’s remake of Yoshitaro Nomura’s 1961 classic Zero Focus (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Japan Cuts: Festival of Japanese Film at the Japan Society.

While the war left many Japanese citizens deeply disillusioned, Teiko emerged with her innocence intact, with little experience in the world at large. Kenichi Uhara by contrast, literally carries the scars of war. Though he never discusses his past, their shy courtship eventually ends in an arranged marriage. Shortly after their wedding, Uhara travels to his company’s regional office in provincial Kanazawa to facilitate his successor’s transition. However, when the date of his return duly circled on Teiko’s calendar comes and goes without his arrival, she starts to worry.

Eventually, Teiko travels north in hopes of finding her husband. As soon as she steps off the train, she is whisked to the prefecture’s notorious suicide cliffs to identify a body matching her husband’s description. While his fate remains in doubt, Teiko starts her own reluctant investigation, quickly determining it may well involve two local women. One is Sachiko Murota, the powerful wife of her husband’s biggest client, who has been bankrolling the candidacy of Kanazawa’s (and Japan’s) potential first woman mayor. The other is Hisako Tanuma, an uneducated fallen woman working in the Murata factory through the personal intervention of Mr. Murota himself.

Focus captures a transitional point in Japanese history, when the Imperial autocracy had just been abolished and few were sad to see it go. The prospects for women are also improving, to the point where victory for Sachiko Murota’s candidate is not outside the realm of possibility. Yet, certain social strictures remain as cruelly inflexible as ever.

Originally based on a novel by Seicho Matsumoto, Focus is distinctly Cornell Woolrich-like in its approach to domestic drama. Indeed, Inudo consciously follows the Hitchcockian template, playing up the psychological aspects of Matsumoto’s story. The mountainous Kanazawa region is also a locale the master of suspense would love. One almost expects to see Kim Novak peering over the precipice. Unlike Hitch’s classics though, this is not a story of a wrongly accused man. Rather it is a film of women, varying from the innocent to the implicated. Yet the notion of guilty as such proves a bit slippery within the psychological context of the film.

Serving as a showcase for three of Japan’s top actresses, Focus features a trio of very strong performances. Probably most recognizable to American audiences as the wife in the Academy Award winning Departures, Ryoko Hirosue gives a knockout performance as the concerned young wife. Yes, she is sweet and vulnerable, but there is some nicely understated self-asserting character development going on as well. In contrast, Miki Nakatani seems to be channeling Bette Davis (in a good way) as Murota, while Tae Kimura is absolutely heartrending as Tanuma.

Lushly produced, Focus is an emotionally complex thriller that holds together quite well. Deliberately Hitchcockian yet distinctly Japanese, it is an intriguing selection for Japan Cuts. It screens this Friday (7/9) and next Thursday (7/15) at the Japan Society as part of the ongoing Japan Cuts festival.

[REC]2: The Long Night Continues

When a reality TV crew accompanied a team of firemen on a call to a zombie-infested apartment building, the footage they [REC]orded could have been the scoop of the year. That fateful night did not work out so well for them, but directors Jaime Balagueró and Paco Plaza contrived ways for more video cameras to enter the damned building in [REC]2 (trailer here), the sequel to their breakout cult Spanish horror hit, which opens in New York this Friday.

Picking up right where the first [REC] left off, the Spanish authorities are tired of playing around, establishing an airtight quarantine around the building. An elite SWAT unit is sent into the hot zone under the command of the mysterious Doctor Owen, who does not suffer fools gladly. At first, they assume they are there to reconnoiter and find their fallen colleagues. However, Owen has a more dangerous assignment for them: track down patient zero and extract a blood sample.

It turns out Owen does not work for the Spanish health ministry. He takes his orders straight from the Vatican, and the events transpiring in the building fall within their purview. While the details are sketchy, it becomes evident the outbreak resulted from a top secret scientific research project involving demonic possession. Needless to say, things went wrong, resulting in all Hell breaking loose.

Clearly, Balagueró and Plaza understand it is not what we see, but what we do not see that scares us in horror movies. That is why their use of hand-held shaky cams and night vision are so effective in the [REC] films. When the SWAT team starts poking around pitch dark attics, it is frankly pretty intense stuff. However, their decision to split the narrative of R2 actually breaks the tension that had been so effectively mounting in the first half hour.

Given the constraints of its POV format and the nature of the attacking hordes storyline, it is difficult for a film like R2 to develop character with any particular depth. There is no time to establish much back-story and the cameras do not have enough battery power to waste recording it anyway. Yet, Jonathan Mellor definitely stands out, investing the driven Dr. Owen with an arrogant charisma not unlike that of Peter Cushing’s classic Dr. Frankenstein. The balance of the cast is not a memorable lot though, essentially serving as grist for the Hell-spawned zombie mill.

The building itself is quite a creepy backdrop for the madness exploding therein and the film nicely blends its Exorcist-style religious horror themes with the trappings of science run amok monster movies. As is usually the case with the horror genre, its climax is something of a letdown, breaking Balagueró and Plaza’s carefully crafted spell by showing way to much of the unfathomable evil entity. Still, there are more than enough genuinely scary moments in this film to satisfy anyone who enjoys a really good horror movie. Cleverer and scarier than its predecessor, [REC]2 opens Friday in New York at the Village East.

Potter at MoMA: Thriller (short)

Eighteen years after its initial release, Sally Potter’s Orlando still seems as fresh and oddly engaging as ever. Newly re-mastered in high-definition, a full review will appear here shortly in conjunction with Sony Classics’ upcoming rerelease. In contrast, Potter’s 1979 short film Thriller has arguably depreciated within her cinematic portfolio. Still, it generated a great deal of critical attention for her at the time, so it can hardly be overlooked during MoMA’s Potter retrospective, where it screens tomorrow as part of a program of short films.

Casual film patrons may take issue with the self-consciously experimental Thriller’s title. Largely consisting of frozen tableaux and still photos, it tells the radically subverted story of La Bohème from the perspective of the recently deceased Mimì. Her affair with Rodolfo did indeed go tragically awry, but maybe her death was more nefarious. Not necessarily criminal (though perhaps so), it may in fact be the result of social iniquity, specifically the negligence of Rodolfo and his bohemian cronies. Lest we miss the point, Mimì’s rival and pseudo-doppelganger Musetta reads quotations from Mallarmé, Freud, and Marx. Indeed, Thriller may be the first recorded instance of bohemian artists taking the brunt of a Marxian social critique.

Like many of Potter’s later works, music plays an important role in Thriller. Logically, we hear excerpts of Puccini’s opera performed by Royal Opera House’s company. However, the frequent use of Bernard Hermann’s Psycho theme feels clichéd, even for the late 1970’s.

Potter’s stark DIY cinematography is certainly evocative in an unsettling way, as is the minimalist attic set (the traditional repository for mad women and inconvenient literary females in general). Ultimately though, Thriller is so tied-up in its post-modern theoretical underpinnings, it never rises above a dry intellectual viewing experience. Highly recommended, the high-def Orlando screens at MoMA tonight (7/7) in advance of its 7/23 rerelease. Of purely historical interest, Thriller screens tomorrow (7/9) and next Wednesday (7/14) as the Potter retro continues at MoMA.

Japan Cuts ’10: Parade

Five young people sharing living quarters might sound like a familiar comedic set-up, but at least the apartment is realistically small. While these roommates might have their requisite eccentricities, there is sense menace lurking on the margins of their lives in Isao Yukisada’s Parade (trailer here), a selection of this year’s Pusan and Berlin Film Festivals, which screens during the 2010 Japan Cuts: Festival of Contemporary Japanese Film now underway at the Japan Society.

Technically, it is the perennially stressed-out Naoki’s apartment, but he took on three roommates after his girlfriend left. Frankly, it is meant for two people, but somehow they manage reasonably well. Ryosuke is an underachieving college student, Mirai is an “f-hag” graphic artist, and the unemployed Kotomi simply whiles away the time waiting for her television actor boyfriend to call. Into the mix comes Satoru, a blond street hustler invited in one by a roommate too dead drunk at the time to remember after the fact. It hardly matters though. Once he is in, he is essentially accepted, and besides Naoki (who constantly labors for a film distributor), he is the only one who works steadily.

Amazingly, when not living atop each other, the five roomies go out together quite regularly. Life seems to be a drunken blur for the fab five, but there is a disturbing vibe lingering below the surface. Yukisada introduces three possible plot points that might upset their mostly responsibility-free lives. There are news reports of a serial killer targeting women in the neighborhood. Closer to home, Kotomi and Ryosuke suspect the next door apartment is a den of prostitution. As the film opens, Ryosuke also receives the tragic news that a freshman year classmate recently died in an accident. One of these developments provides Parade’s ultimate kicker.

Deftly helmed, Parade is deceptively understated. It often feels like a sitcom threatening to break into a horror film. Yet, while somewhat telegraphed, it painstakingly establishes the foundation for the quiet horror of its conclusion.

Though certainly an ensemble piece, Tatsuya Fujiwara and Kento Hayashi, as Naoki and Satoru respectively, eventually take over the film. It is hard to describe their dynamic between them, but they handle the balancing act quite well. The uni-named Karina is also a consistently intriguing presence, making quite an impression as the sometimes unsettling Mirai. Conversely, Shihori Kanjiya and Kensuke Koide learn more towards the comedic as Kotomi and Ryosuke.

Parade is a very smart movie that offers a cogent criticism of our aimless, desensitized times. Effectively constructed and executed, it is a very accomplished work. Highly recommended, it screens at the Japan Society on Friday (7/9) and Saturday (7/10), with Yukisada in attendance for Q&A at both showings.

Lisbeth Salander Returns: The Girl Who Played with Fire

America loves androgynous goth Swedish computer hackers. After topping bestseller lists as the protagonist Steig Larsson’s Millennium trilogy, Lisbeth Salander became a breakout art-house hit with the release of Niels Arden Oplev’s adaptation of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Following close on the heels of the U.S. publication of the third Millennium novel, Salander returns to theaters in Daniel Alfredson’s The Girl Who Played with Fire (trailer here), which opens in New York this Friday.

After the dramatic events of Tattoo, Salander has essentially dropped out of normal society. Grateful to Salander for clearing his name, Millennium publisher (and former friend with benefits) Mikael Blomkvist periodically makes an effort to find her, but to no avail. However, their fates again become intertwined when Salander is implicated in the murder of Dag Svensson, a young Millennium freelancer working on a blockbuster expose of human trafficking.

It seems Svensson’s story involved several people from Salander’s past, including her former court-appointed guardian, with whom she had a disturbingly graphic altercation in the previous film. Not exactly a warm fuzzy personality, everyone seems all too willing to accept Salander’s guilt, except Blomkvist, the perennial windmill tilter.

While Fire clearly establishes characters and issues for the forthcoming third installment, it is more or less self-contained, so viewers should be able to jump into it just fine without having first seen Tattoo. In fact, as a tighter, less explicit film, it might be more accessible for many viewers. It is also less overtly political, despite Larsson’s notorious leftist politics. However, Tattoo’s serial killer storyline rooted in Sweden’s sinister history of widespread Nazi sympathizing, was arguably a wider canvas with greater stakes at play than the more narrowly focused Fire.

Although Hollywood is gearing up to remake the Millennium trilogy, it is hard to imagine any other actors in the lead roles. Noomi Rapace perfectly captures Salander’s strange allure while also conveying the emotional maelstrom contained beneath her icy exterior. While much of the press for the Millennium films understandably centers on her, Michael Nyqvist is nearly as indispensible to the series. Like a Nordic Harrison Ford, he brings a salt of the earth screen presence to Blomkvist that keeps the film grounded for the audience, effectively counterbalancing Salander’s occasional creepiness. Good luck Daniel Craig and Kristin Stewart, or whoever.

Slickly produced, Fire might not match either the intensity or the unsettling explicitness of the first Millennium movie, but Alfredson still keeps it all chugging along quite briskly. Indeed, Fire is a solid, respectable sophomore outing for Salander, probably the most intriguing screen protagonist to ever wield a laptop and a stun-gun. It opens fairly widely this Friday (2/9), screening in New York at the Angelika Film Center, Empire 25, and Lincoln Plaza Cinemas.

Nolan’s Following

In just ten years time, Christopher Nolan went from indie to I-max. Even though his upcoming Inception looks like a Matrix make-alike, industry watchers are eager to herald its coming. Regardless of its merits, it will not be hard to find in theaters, which probably explains why IFC’s on-demand service will be offering Nolan’s grubby DIY-debut Following (trailer here) starting tomorrow (while Netflix subscribers can stream it for free tonight).

Bill calls himself a writer, but he is just an unemployed loser. Ostensibly for inspiration, he starts following strangers on the street that pique his curiosity. He sets some hard-and-fast rules, like never follow the same person twice, which he promptly breaks. Bill makes the mistake of following Cobb, who busts him right away. However, the shadowy man senses a kindred spirit in Bill, initiating him into his peculiar practice of burglary as voyeuristic sport.

As in all noirs, there is a woman too. Bill knows a fair amount about her, since he and Cobb hit her flit. However, he cannot resist trying to insinuate himself into her life, despite her dangerous gangster ex looming in the background.

Frankly, Nolan’s set-up is fairly intriguing, and with a brief running time of seventy minutes, he hardly belabors the point. His grainy, hand-held cinematography also nicely suits the noir story. Still, the supposedly surprising twists are pretty obvious coming round the bend.

Essentially a three-hander, Alex Haw’s easily takes the honors, chewing the scenery quite entertainingly as the arrogant villain. Co-producer Jeremy Theobald is deliberately a bit wishy-washy as the hapless Bill, but unfortunately Lucy Russell makes a weak femme fatale as the Blonde.

Needless to say, Nolan went on to bigger and better projects, like The Dark Knight, which will probably come to be regarded as the masterwork of the superhero genre. An okay noir, Following is the sort of film where most characters are playing each other and everyone deserves to be played. Stylistically diverting and historically interesting as Nolan’s first film, Following is worth streaming for free, but paying customers might not find it fully satisfying. It debuts on IFC’s Festival Direct tomorrow (7/7).

Japan Cuts ’10: Bare Essence of Life Ultra Miracle Love Story

Yojin Mizuki might be a young man, but he acts like a kid who could use a dose of Ritalin. Oddly enough, pesticide seems to have the same effect on him. Not exactly Prince Charming, the new kindergarten teacher will have to deal with his not particularly welcome, chemically stabilized attentions in Satoko Yokohama’s Bare Essence of Life Ultra Miracle Love Story (trailer here), which screens during the Japan Society’s 2010 Japan Cuts: Festival of Contemporary Japanese Film.

Twenty-something Mizuki is still a handful to deal with. Fortunately, his grandmother has a lot of patience. However, she has real concerns about his ability to live independently once she has gone. As a test, she has granted him his own vegetable patch on the family organic farm. So far, the bug-infested results are not encouraging, which is why Mizuki sought out some chemical help. Through a strange set of circumstances that could only happen to the overgrown adolescent, he gets a pesticide shower, but he feels just fine. In fact, he can converse relatively rationally with Machiko Shinsen, his new crush.

For obvious reasons, Shinsen is not thrilled by Mizuki’s advances. She is also trying to resolve her feelings for an ex-lover who was decapitated in an auto accident. Still, though Mizuki does not exactly wear down her objections, strange things seem to happen when he is around.

Essence starts off like a quirky indie dramedy, complete with two legitimately funny kindergartners, who up-stage their adult co-stars in all their scenes. Yet, it matter-of-factly veers into magical realism territory as the unforeseen consequence of Mizuki’s self-medicating, accepted at face-value by the hard-working citizens of provincial Aomori Prefecture.

Indeed, Yokohama maintains a weird tone during Essence, keeping viewers off-balance throughout. It is hard to get a bead on Mizuki—“his wiring is just different,” we are told. Ken’ichi Matsuyama (recognizable to some as the mysterious L in the Death Note series) approaches Kojin as a showcase role, with plenty of all too convincing hyper acting-out and tic-y foibles. Though generally sympathetic, his portrayal is hardly saintly. Mercifully, this is not a Japanese Phenomenon. Likewise, the not always likable Shinsen, brought to life with tremendous credibility by Kumiko Aso, certainly warms to her trying suitor, but she does not exactly throw caution to the wind.

Up until the conclusion, Yokohama largely reigns in Essence’s potentially quirky excesses. Indeed, thanks to a disciplined cast (including the surprisingly charming youngsters) and its realistic grounding in a scrupulously un-romanticized Aomori, the film mostly hits its marks, largely overcoming potential viewer resistance to its heroic eccentricity. It screens at the Japan Society this Wednesday (7/7) as Japan Cuts continues through July 16th.

Rivette’s Around a Small Mountain

At least he is not following a Dead cover band. Still, the decision of a middle aged Italian man of apparent means to travel with a small family owned circus through the French countryside might seem a bit precipitous. Of course, there happens to be an attractive middle-aged woman working with said big top who most definitely captures his attention in Jacques Rivette’s Around a Small Mountain (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

Supposedly on his way from Milan to meet up with friends in Barcelona, Vittorio is clearly in no particular hurry. After fixing Kate’s stalled vehicle on the side of the road, he accepts her invitation for the evening’s performance of the family circus she has only recently returned to and then comes back night after night.

It turns out the circus performers are happy to have him in the audience. They can tell he is laughing, since he is nearly the only one there. Indeed, he seems to have a special appreciation for one of their comedic routines, offering advice to Alexandre (definitely a crying on the inside kind of clown) that would be annoying if it were not so right-on-the-money. Frankly, the Italian wanderer’s presence among them seems quite welcomed and natural. Yet, he is only able to glean Kate’s back-story in bits and pieces.

It is not an accident that Rivette’s film is set in the circus. Though nothing fantastical happens in the film, per se, the big top appears to hold a sort of magical power. Periodically, Rivette gives the audience private viewings of their acts that initially feel surreal, but ultimately convey a sense of the circus’s weird power. When Vittorio inevitably finds himself inside the ring, his disastrous improv serves as an explicit tribute to that mystical sense of wondrous possibilities.

Mountain is a small film in the best sense. Never blowing things out of proportion, it tells a simple story of love, loss, and potential redemption, with a sly whiff of absurdity. Considered the playful improviser of the French New Wave, Rivette is known for his long films (maxing out at nearly thirteen hours in the case of Out 1). Mountain by contrast, is elegant in its brevity, not even crossing the ninety minute threshold. Yet, it has power in its simplicity, nicely underscored by Pierre Allio’s slightly jazzy opening and closing themes.

Sergio Castellito (the villain in Prince Caspian) has the right world-weary charm as well as effective comedic timing as the footloose Vittorio. Always an intriguing presence, Jane Birkin supplies the dramatic highlight of the film with a riveting grave-side monologue, answering many of our questions about her tragic history. Their screen-chemistry is perfectly on pitch, sparring together convincingly, while hinting at deeper things below the surface.

With its wistful in-the-moment vibe, Mountain would be a perfect film to watch at the end of summer. Instead, it releases in New York in early July, but really, there is never a bad time to see a good film and Mountain is very good indeed. Warmly recommended, it opens this Friday (7/9) at the IFC Center.

NYAFF ‘10: Red Cliff (Uncut)

It was like the Siege of Troy without the big wooden horse. Well-known to Chinese audiences from the Fourteenth Century novel, The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the Battle of Red Cliff offered John Woo a huge, sprawling canvas for his first Asian produced film since answering Hollywood’s call in the early 1990’s. Featuring sweeping battle scenes, courtly intrigue, and yes, plenty of doves, Woo applied his signature action style to the 208 AD campaign in Red Cliff (trailer here), but unfortunately the version released in American was oddly abridged, losing some of its better scenes. However, the full international cut screens today as part of the New York Asian Film Festival.

In the waning days of the Han Dynasty, Prime Minister Cao Cao bullies the weak young Emperor into declaring war against Liu Bei’s peaceful Xu kingdom in the west and Sun Quan’s prosperous Wu kingdom to the South. Following a costly defeat, Liu’s strategist Zhuge Liang forges an uneasy alliance with Sun Quan by appealing to his wise Viceroy Zhou Yu, who has his own reasons for battling Cao Cao. His wife Xiao Qiao is Red Cliff’s Helen of Troy, whose beauty has haunted Cao Cao for years.

While the CGI can be a bit conspicuous at times, Woo invests the action with grit and vigor, out Bravehearting Braveheart. He stages several enormously ambitious full-scale battles worthy of Cecil B. DeMille, complete with naval skirmishes, charging cavalry, generous use of firebombs, and blizzards of arrows. Yet it is the gravity defying martial arts fight choreography that really delivers the goods.

As Zhou Yu, Tony Leung, the star of Woo’s original breakout hit Hard Boiled, brings the right heroic gravitas to credibly serve as the mature action lead, without being overshadowed by the considerable spectacle constantly enveloping him. Leung is nicely counterbalanced by Takeshi Kaneshiro as the mystical Zhuge (who turns out to be a walking second century Farmer’s Almanac). Chiling Lin also is quite effective as the beautiful Xiao Qiao, projecting a sense of strength and compassion that humanizes a story largely dominated by warfare.

Not surprisingly, Red Cliff is best appreciated in its intended, unexpurgated form. Inexplicably, the character of Sun Shangxiang suffered the most from the American abridgment. An early feminist warrior, she is a strong secondary protagonist, played with verve and charisma by Zhao Wei. Indeed, it is a shame to have lost her scenes infiltrating Cao Cao’s encampment, where she befriends the guileless soldier Pit, thereby discovering the human face of the opposing troops they will soon face.

Even in the American cut, Red Cliff is a meticulously produced historical action epic that compares highly favorably with most any recent martial arts opus. Still basically all about fighting, the uncut Cliff is more judicious in its vision of war, but remains a sheer blast to watch. Unquestionably though, the uncut version is preferred and NYAFF offers an opportunity to see it on the big screen of the Walter Reade Theater tonight (7/4), as a kind of fireworks for the Fourth of July.

Tigers at the Seaport

There are only an estimated 3,000 surviving wild tigers in the world today. That is a sharp reduction from a population of 5,000 mere months ago. Dramatically illustrating this alarming rate of decline, organizers of a new interactive exhibition on tigers have had to update their signage by hand. Developed by nature photographer Carole J. Amore to raise awareness of this issue, Tigers: Tracking a Legend recently opened at the South Street Seaport’s Pier 17. Still, despite the inescapable urgency this figure represents, rest assured, the Tigers experience is mostly about creatively produced family fun, rather than depressing guilt trips.

To really appreciate the Tigers installation, you ought to go through it with some wide-eyed youngsters. My research assistants for the day were a very intelligent, animal-loving six-year old girl, her four year old brother (who is a tough crowd to please), and their incredibly patient aunt. Thanks to the spirited presentation of our knowledgeable guide, we were all very engaged by the exhibit, and our six year old team leader was absolutely engrossed.

There are no live tigers at the Seaport. There is no taxidermy either. There are some life-like representations of the stars of the show, the Bengal tigress Bachhi and her cubs Badi and Choti, but there are strictly inorganic recreations. However, we do see plenty of the real tigers in films shot by creator Amore that gives visitors a sense of their personalities.

Most of the exhibition though is hands-on and participatory. Through models, kids learn the basics of tracking animals, and get a tactile appreciation of the tiger’s hunting prowess and the mighty force of its jaws at clever activity stations. They had a chance to match the tiger’s roar and even learn something about the science of sound and hearing in one activity that probably skews a bit older than our team. However, the various smell stations with all the stinky scents associated with the tiger’s environment should be a big hit for a group of our age range (indeed, everyone under thirty loved being disgusted by them).

For young visitors, the highlight of Tigers will most likely be the digi-track climbing wall (so be sure they wear clean tennis shoes). Called the “nap-maker,” the guides have a number of tiger-themed games to play on the wall using the various flashing lights that are sure to burn off a lot of excess energy. Frankly, we all probably slept well that night.

There is also a serious station devoted to conservation, which is handled quite appropriately. It is a shame to see the dwindling population of tiger species, especially after spending time with Bachhi, Badi, and Choti. Unfortunately, many tiger populations have been centered in countries where environmental concerns hold little sway. As a result the Amur Siberian tiger in Russia number a scant 400-500 and only 70 South China Amoy tigers survive in captivity.

Again, the enthusiasm and professionalism of our guide was quite impression. Thanks to him, all four of us got something out of the Tigers exhibit. In fact, the verdict of our six year-old researcher was about as conclusive as it gets at that age—she immediately wanted to go through it all again. Seeing is believing. For smart, curious kids aged six and up, Tigers is a fascinating experience and good exercise as well. So if you have any kids lying around the house this Fourth of July weekend bring them to Tigers: Tracking a Legend on the third floor of Pier 17 and learn something about these powerful but endangered animals.

NYAFF ’10: Castaway on the Moon

These kids are made for each other. Let’s just say neither is particularly outgoing. One is a shut-in and the other is a homeless hermit. Getting them together will be quite a trick though in Lee Hey-jun’s Castaway on the Moon (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2010 New York Asian Film Festival.

Heartbroken and bankrupt, a man named Kim decides to end it all by jumping into the Han River. Unfortunately, he cannot even commit suicide right, washing up on tiny Bamseom island, a tiny spit of land designated as a nature preserve. Though it is within throwing distance of the Seogang Bridge, the currents prove too strong for Kim to swim back to civilization. However, he quickly resigns himself to life as castaway, preferring it to the rat race that drove him to despair. Then one fine day, he has his first human contact in months—the proverbial message in a bottle.

A young woman also named Kim has been watching the castaway from her high-rise apartment. Like the hikikomori in Bong Joon-ho’s Shaking Tokyo, she has completely withdrawn from the outside world, living a strange obsessive-compulsive existence, with the support of her indulgent parents. Yet, something about Mr. Kim’s eccentric behavior touches the recluse, motivating her to sneak out of her building late at night to chuck bottles over the bridge. It might be a healthy first step, but it will take a lot more to get the two Kims together.

Obviously, Moon will suggest comparisons to Robert Zemeckis’s Castaway, but the dramatic dynamics are totally different. Mr. Kim is not really alone, which is why he is able to “live in hope.” It might even sound a little creepy in a voyeuristic kind of way, but Lee steers well clear of anything remotely edgy. Instead, Moon is really a highly chaste love story between two lonely, fragile people.

Indeed, Lee keeps the proceedings sweetly earnest, even flirting with outright corniness, like the DIY black bean noodles that represent spiritual rebirth for Mr. Kim. Still, there is something refreshing about its unabashed sentimentality, unburdened by any hipster irony. Essentially two solo performances intertwined into a two-hander, Moon obviously relies heavily on its two leads. While Jung Jae-yeong gets act crazy and go Lord of the Flies as the castaway (which he is relatively convincing at) it is Jung Rye-won who touchingly expresses both the film’s sweetness and its quiet desperation as Ms. Kim.

In a way, Moon is a lot like the dopey old Huey Lewis “Stuck with You” video, mixing unlikely love with an urban castaway tale. It works though, by playing it straight, wanting the audience to root for its awkward protagonists. An endearing film, it screens as part of the 2010 NYAFF on Sunday (the Fourth) and Wednesday (7/7) at the Walter Reade Theater.