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American, The | Review
Tuesday, August 31st, 2010Director: Anton Corbijn
Writer: Rowan Joffe (screenplay), Martin Booth (novel)
Starring: George Clooney, Violante Placido, Thekla Reuten, Paolo Bonacelli
Jack (George Clooney) is, by all accounts and purposes, an American. His career as an assassin is high risk but offers significant financial return. In other words: Jack, like all good ‘mericans, likes guns and money. (There must be a Gang of Four reference somewhere around here…) Jack tries to forget history, living life only in the present; Jack also seems to expect that others will forget his past as well. (Note: The American utilizes Jack to symbolize the United States just as The Quiet American utilizes Pyle.)
The American begins in a tranquil and secluded snowbound cabin in Sweden where it seems Jack believes (or at least hopes) he has left his career behind. Unfortunately for Jack, his past catches up with him and he soon finds himself on the run again. Jack makes his way to Castel del Monte, an Italian community in the Province of L’Aquila in Abruzzo where very little has changed since the Middle Ages and Renaissance periods, to hide out. (Castel del Monte lies within the Parco Nazionale del Gran Sasso e Monti della Laga which assures that the land surrounding the town will remain forever wild and preserves Castel del Monte in a near pristine state.) In other words, history has engulfed Jack in terms of both his career and his choice of hideout. Jack does not hide very well: not a religious man, Jack nonetheless accepts the friendship of the nosy town priest, Father Benedetto (Paolo Bonacelli); unable to decline a well-paying gig from his boss (Johan Leysen), Jack accepts an assignment to build a custom semi-automatic rifle for Mathilde (Thekla Reuten); and incapable of avoiding beautiful women, Jack commences a relationship with an impossibly perfect prostitute, Clara (Violante Placido). His past rears its ugly shadow for one final showdown. Jack will either be absolved from his past and permitted to live the rest of his life as a free man or he will be sentenced to eternal damnation.
Based on Martin Booth’s 1990 novel A Very Private Gentleman, Anton Corbijn’s The American visually channels two Italian masters of the cinema: Michelangelo Antonioni and Sergio Leone. From the pacing to the cinematography to the acting performances to the mise-en-scene, The American is by no means a product of this cinematic era. The plot may sound like a spy thriller (ala Bourne Identity) but Corbijn shows very little interest in suspense or drama (The American may in fact be the anti-Bourne or anti-Salt); Corbijn only cares about Jack’s current psychology and the environment in which he presently exists (even Jack’s history and motivations are kept a mystery). There is very little plot and there is very little action; The American is all about mood and metaphor. The American is as anti-Hollywood as films get nowadays, it is first and foremost a European art film.
By the way, I do realize that comparing Corbijn to one of the greatest filmmakers of all time (Antonioni) is a bit of a stretch. Corbijn comes nowhere near the psychological depth or cinematic immaculateness of L’Avventura, Red Desert or The Passenger (three cinematic masterpieces); but he comes much closer than any other filmmaker has come in the last couple decades.
Rating: 8/10
Daniel & Ana | Review
Friday, August 27th, 2010Director: Michel Franco
Writer: Michel Franco
Starring: Dario Yazbek Bernal, Marimar Vega, Chema Torre
Allow me to begin by stating that one of the greatest traits of Daniel & Ana is its ability to shock an unsuspecting viewer. I will attempt to keep the following review as ambiguous as I can, but Michel Franco’s debut feature functions most effectively if the viewer does not know anything about the plot. But, before you stop reading, please be forewarned that Daniel & Ana is an emotionally tragic tale, one that cinema-goers might not care to willingly digest. It’s not quite as violent as Irreversible, but promises to be equally psychologically challenging for the audience. But like Irreversible, the strength of Daniel & Ana is the before and after specifically the cinematic tone and the actors’ performances. OK, now that you have been forewarned you can either scurry off to the nearest art house cinema or you can continue reading at your own risk…
When we are first introduced to Ana (Marimar Vega) and Daniel Torres (Dario Yazbek Bernal) they are two loving siblings from an affluent Mexico City family still living under their parents’ roof. The elder of the two siblings, Ana is three months away from marrying Rafael (Jose Maria Torre) when her fianc? is offered a job in Spain. Family comes first and foremost for Ana, so she has absolutely no intentions of leaving Mexico City; Rafael loves Ana, so he opts to forgo the fantastic career opportunity in order to stay in Mexico City with her. Nonetheless, Ana feels tremendous pressure from the wedding planning and her fiancs recent career sacrifice. Daniel is under a different kind of pressure…that being hormonal. Sixteen-years old, Daniel and his Bob Dylan quaff has sexual urges that have yet to be fulfilled by his girlfriend; he also wants his own car. Ana and Daniel’s troubles are not extraordinary and one would expect that their family’s wealth alone will probably soften most of their stresses and heartaches.
Things change quite drastically and dramatically for Ana and Daniel when they are kidnapped at gunpoint by thugs who know their names and where they live. These kidnappers do not want a ransom, they have significantly more morally shattering plans for the siblings. In order to save themselves, Ana and Daniel must first put the boundaries of their sibling love to the test and be videotaped doing the unthinkable and unspeakable. Of course they do it, it seems they have no other options, and the event is equally traumatic and life-changing for each of them. There is no turning back. Ana and Daniel will never be able to return to their past lives especially relationships and their sibling closeness will never be the same.
If you have been able to guess what the unthinkable and unspeakable event is admittedly I did not hide it very well you’ll understand just how difficult this film will be for some viewers. Dario Yazbek Bernal (younger brother of Gael Garcia Bernal) brilliantly holds his cards close to his chest, never allowing the viewer to know what to expect next from him; and in terms of realism, it definitely helps that a 16-year old actor was cast to play a 16-year old character. We never know what he is thinking, though we can see his inner-sadness gushing from his eyes. Balancing sexiness and emotional ambiguity, Marimar Vega’s Ana is an incredibly strong and intelligent woman; and though at times she plays Ana like a character from a soap opera, the character remains relatively believable.
My biggest beef with Daniel & Ana concerns the editing and structure. Many of the scenes are cut too short and I found the plethora of fade-to-blacks between scenes to be very distracting. Because of these structural choices, the narrative lacks continuity; it plays as a fractured collection of all-too-brief scenes. The effect is practically Brechtian, a constant reminder that we are watching an edited film thus creating a separation between the viewer and the narrative. This is most confusing to me because the structural choices play in opposition to Franco’s obvious attempts at cinematic realism notably the hand-held cinematography and natural lighting.
According to Franco, Ana and Daniel’s tale is based on a true story (the opening titles of Daniel & Ana make the impossibly grandiose proclamation: ?he movie tells the story exactly as it happened, only the names were changed, one told to him by the psychologist who treated the real-life siblings. In fact, kidnappings like this one purportedly occur quite often in Mexico though the Mexican authorities have not done anything to stop this activity. It is the ?erfectcrime because the victims rarely come away with any tangible evidence (only severe lifelong psychological trauma) and they often prefer not to press charges.
Rating: 7/10
Last Exorcism, The | Review
Thursday, August 26th, 2010Director: Daniel Stamm
Writer: Huck Botko, Andrew Gurland
Starring: Patrick Fabian, Iris Bahr, Louis Herthum
Directed by Daniel Stamm, The Last Exorcism is another notch in the “faux documentary”-cum-”found footage” horror film bedpost. The film is set-up on the premise that a guerrilla documentary crew is following a disillusioned preacher named Cotton Marcus (Patrick Fabian) who hopes to reveal the ignorance and superstition that is fueling a recent resurgence in exorcisms, as well as the dangers that exorcisms pose to the “possessed” individuals (especially children). Delving briefly into Cotton’s past, we learn that he grew up as the son of a preacher man and prominent exorcist; Cotton then took up his father’s profession at a young age beginning as a “child preacher.” Presently, Cotton admits that his belief in God is wavering; but he understands how others can find solace in what he can provide by way of his charismatic performances as a preacher.
Cotton’s plan is for the filmmakers to document his last exorcism — one of a possessed teenage girl named Nell (Ashley Bell) — before he retires. Nell is suspected by her father (Louis Herthum) to be slaughtering their family livestock, apparently while in a trance state. Nell’s father became a devout fundamental Christian and alcoholic after the death of his wife; afraid that his children would be corrupted by the evils of modern society he keeps them on a tight leash and even home-schools them. Cotton, knowing in his heart that demons do not exist, ascertains that the stress of Nell’s mother’s death and her father’s extreme and restricting behavior is the root cause of Nell’s “possession.” Cotton can only hope that his performance as exorcist will be convincing enough to cure Nell’s purely psychosomatic manifestations; but this exorcism occurs so early in the narrative, that it is quite obvious that it will not be successful. This is where the true horror story begins, as Nell’s condition is not as one-dimensional as everyone had anticipated.
The Last Exorcism is a very strange horror film, one that takes a long time to get to the fright fest. Stamm’s film sets off on very patient path during the first act in order to establish sufficient back-story and character development to make the second act more worthwhile — at least for those of us who are more interested in plot than thrills and chills. Basically, The Last Exorcism is not a film to see for its ability to shock ‘n awe y’all; instead, it is a character study — which, yes, eventually moseys its way into a no holds barred horror film — that is carried on the shoulders of Fabian and Bell’s noteworthy performances.
Additionally, Stamm’s film is significantly more thought-provoking and philosophical than the average horror film. Though The Last Exorcism never blatantly mocks the God-fearing Christians of the Bible Belt, it does question some of the fundamental beliefs and practices of Christianity. Cotton’s opinion of preachers is not too far off from my own — they are merely entertainers whose purpose is two-fold: make the congregation feel good and earn money. Many (if not most) Christian sects utilize fear as a means of control and manipulation, and this is where the devil and demons come in. But not only do the devil and demons provide Christians something to fear, they also provide excuses for whenever Christians veer off of their perfect Christian path. And some people veer farther from the path than others — that is where exorcisms come in. Rather than admitting that people do bad things on their own, we are supposed to believe that the devil made them do it or that they were possessed by demons. We are also to believe that a preacher, minister or priest (depending on the Christian sect) have the power — by channelling God, of course — to expel demons from people. (I’m only using Christianity as an example here — there are plenty of other religions that use similar tactics to achieve similar goals.) The Last Exorcism thoughtfully and cleverly takes Christianity to task, but that is not to say that Stamm is denouncing God. In fact the ending takes such an extreme right turn, that it becomes difficult to really know what Stamm and the film’s writers (Huck Botko and Andrew Gurland) really believe. Essentially, everyone associated with The Last Exorcism — from the fictional characters to the filmmakers to the audience — is in search of the absolute Truth and said Truth might be beyond all of us.
Unfortunately, The Last Exorcism really does not succeed as the ”found footage” film that it purports to be, mainly because there are too many sequences that feel contrived as if they were manipulated and edited in post-production. The ”found footage” genre only succeeds whenever the director decides to go “all in” and establish strict guidelines in order to retain full authenticity (and that authenticity was well within the reach of Stamm, Botko and Gurland) — this is where few “found footage” films succeed (Trash Humpers and Jimmy Tupper vs. the Goatman of Bowie) and many fail (Cloverfield, Blair Witch Project and Paranormal Activity). And, without divulging spoilers, I just will say that the ending does not offer any logical explanation that the film will ever be found and shown.
With a little more attention to “found footage” details and a much different ending (if not an entirely different third act), The Last Exorcism could have been a much better film. I went into The Last Exorcism with absolutely no expectations, but I was so impressed by the first two acts that the third act really frustrated me. As for Stamm’s decision to utilize the hyper-real “found footage” film-making perspective to tell this story, well I don’t think it was all that necessary. I don’t think the perspective really added anything to the narrative, if anything it just makes the story seem much more contrived.
Rating: 5/10
Milk of Sorrow, The (La Teta Asustada) | Review
Thursday, August 26th, 2010Director: Claudia Llosa
Writer: Claudia Llosa
Starring: Magaly Solier, Susy Sánchez, Efrain Solís
While on her deathbed, an elderly Peruvian woman (Barbara Lazon) sings a tale of woe about being raped and forced-fed her dead husband’s gunpowder-seasoned penis during the Sendero Luminoso’s Shining Path campaigns of the 1980s. The woman’s daughter, Fausta (Magaly Solier), purportedly consumed her mother’s fear from these events when, as a child, she suckled the milk [of sorrow] from her mother’s “frightened teats.”
Fausta’s vacant and timorous soul has been overburdened, if not totally overrun, by fear. She walks the streets with blank black eyes revealing only one emotion — sheer terror — as she cowers closely to the walls purportedly to avoid evil spirits, but more likely to avoid people. Lacking in social skills and petrified of the outside world, Fausta is forced to find employment upon her mother’s death in order to afford the proper burial that her mother deserves. Armed with a strategically placed potato which protects her against potential sexual violators and songs which pour out from her subconscious in order to sooth her nerves, the beautiful yet silent Fausta hesitantly begins working as a servant for a rich doña in Lima.
Based on Kimberly Theidon’s book Entre Prójimos, Peruvian director Claudia Llosa’s allegorical film details the long-lasting effects from the Sendero Luminoso’s shameless raping of Peruvian women. Llosa’s magic realism sensibilities allow her to walk the fine line between the grim nature of the content and visually lyrical yet absurdly comedic moments. The film never opts to show flashback footage of the violence, rape and torture but the tragedies haunt ever single frame of the narrative. The unspeakable history is kept off-screen because in reality these crimes are seldom discussed by Peruvians — though the psychological aftermath lingers long after the victims have passed away. Also, by not revealing the atrocious acts on-screen it makes the content of The Milk of Sorrow somewhat less painful for the audience to swallow as the heinousness exists quite subtly in tone alone.
The Milk of Sorrow is essentially about a repressed population that can only express their innermost feelings via myths, such as la teta asustada, and folk songs. They pass this information from one generation to the next as to never forget what horrors exist in this world. It is a warning to never let your guard down, to be prepared. This history of oral culture functions as a collective memory; yet this leaves future generations, like Fausta, fearful of life and devastatingly suspicious of people she does not know. Thus, probably the most societally crippling consequence of the horrors of the Sendero Luminoso is the creation of the fear of the unknown and of the other. How can a nation survive as a cohesive whole when a segment of its population lives in such a constant state of distrust of their neighbors? (Suckle on that for a while, Tea Partiers!)
The Milk of Sorrow won the Golden Bear for best film at the 2009 Berlin International Film Festival and was nominated for the Best Foreign Language Picture at the 82nd Academy Awards.
Rating: 8.5/10
Takers | Review
Thursday, August 26th, 2010irector: John Luessenhop
Writer(s): Peter Allen, Gabriel Casseus, John Luessenhop, Avery Duff
Starring: Chris Brown, Hayden Christensen, Matt Dillon, Michael Ealy, Idris Elba, T.I., Jay Hernandez, Paul Walker
They take; in other words, they are thieves. That’s the premise of this breakneck tale of cops and robbers by fledging director John Luessenhop. Takers is the latest summer blockbuster extravaganza to glorify violence and promote it as a viable lifestyle. It’s a film that looks like a beer commercial, only with cracking gunfire, jerky foot chases, and criminals made out to be the good guys. It’s a not-so-neatly packaged whirlwind fiasco that rips off Heat, Ocean’s Eleven, and yes, even Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
We’ve got our thieves: a band of slick-dressed, smooth-talking badasses that are looking for the next big heist. Luessenhop starts us off with these fellows robbing a bank, then escaping from the bank via the most completely ridiculous route available. There’s a lot of ridiculous in Takers, but let’s move on. Next we meet the cold, street-ravaged cops of Los Angeles, with Jack Welles (Matt Dillon) being the most street-ravaged of them all. He smells no good and he won’t rest until that no good is…good. Cut to Ghost (T.I.) the hip-talkin’ gangsta guy who fills the screen with enough urban cool to last me a lifetime. He’s our antagonist of sorts (aw, did I give something away? It doesn’t matter; you’ll figure it out in the first thirty minutes), and he’s got a plan that will make these boys rich. Indeed, more Armani suits and cognac for everyone!
I could give you more plot summary, but as I’ve mentioned, it’s in about a dozen or so other films, so just go watch those movies instead. Essentially, Luessenhop went heavy on the action to offset a story that plods along aimlessly like some starving animal lost in the desert. Between the bouts of über-violence, we have what was most likely meant to be a story, but it’s so dull and cliché that the intelligent moviegoer will be left slack jawed until the next dose of insanely gut-wrenching action bursts onto the screen. To be fair, I will give Luessenhop credit for the action sequences; he certainly has a future in the action genre.
As for our cast, it’s a mish-mash of the good and the bad. Chris Brown and Michael Ealy are brothers in this film, and for the most part, their performances are on par with the quality of the script. Hayden Christensen makes an appearance, and while he has come a long way since Star Wars, there is definitely work to be done. I have never seen T.I. in anything, so it’s hard to gauge, but overall, a little less of the street thing would make for a more convincing ride. Paul Walker plays the levelheaded thief, and for some reason his performance improved as the film progressed. Matt Dillon was absolutely horrible in this film; what was he thinking? Who did I like? Idris Elba was the only member of our merry band of thieves who deserves any credit in this film; it’s a good thing I like The Wire so much.
I had no idea what sort of movie I was walking into when I went to see Takers, but I left wishing I had gone into a different theater. This film was a blatant attempt at cashing in on everything that’s been done in cinema in the last forty years. Couple that with preposterous situations poured onto overloaded action scenes and you’ve got yourself a really bad action movie…which, I’m certain, was not what the director intended. Takers so lacked originality that it became comical after a while, and even the attempt to make this film “cool” by appealing to a particular demographic failed miserably. If John Luessenhop was indeed attempting a film with some substance interspersed with some explosions and robberies, he should go back and watch Heat again—better yet, don’t; just move on.
Rating: 3/10
Animal Kingdom | Review
Thursday, August 26th, 2010Director: David Michôd
Writer: David Michôd
Starring: Ben Mendelsohn, Joel Edgerton, Guy Pearce, Luke Ford, Jacki Weaver, Sullivan Stapleton, James Frecheville
We meet the 17-year-old Josh “J” Cody (James Frecheville) as he sits beside his recently deceased (by way of heroin overdose) mother watching Deal or No Deal in their depressingly concrete flat. With no one else to turn to, J phones his estranged grandmother “Smurf” Cody (Jacki Weaver) for assistance with the funeral arrangements (though the funeral never seems to take place). Grandma Cody takes J under her wing — scratch that — paw, allowing him to live with mama lion and her three thuggish cubs (Ben Mendelsohn, Luke Ford, Sullivan Stapleton) in their den of crime. The lioness relentlessly dotes on her cubs, bestowing uncomfortably passionate kisses upon them that linger to the brink of being incestuous.
Abiding solely by the Darwinesque rules of the concrete jungle, the brotherhood (along with their cohort, Baz [Joel Edgerton]) of armed robbers and drug dealers have become public enemy numero uno to Melbourne’s blood thirsty armed-robbery squad. Whether he likes it or not — something we will never know, thanks to his numbed and blank facade — J is unavoidably and instantly thrust into the family biz (the precise reason J’s mother kept her son so far away from her mother and brothers).
For reasons unknown, Melbourne’s finest cannot nail the Cody clan. In an act of apparent desperation the police gun down Baz in broad daylight, successfully eliciting a sloppily violent response from the three brothers; from this point onward, every act of violence is tit-for-tat. (Animal Kingdom is all about predation and surviving purely on instinct.)
The only upstanding (read: not trigger happy) policeman is Nathan Leckie (Guy Pearce), a cold and methodical police sergeant who tries to gain J’s trust in the hopes that his testimony alone would send the surviving members of the Cody clan to prison. Surprisingly, the trial is not shown onscreen and we learn the judgement in a very awkward and stunted manner.
Though haphazardly and inexplicably narrated by J several years after the onscreen events, writer-director David Michôd’s film does successfully deglamorize criminal life all the while visualizing the class struggle that got the Cody clan into this mess. Exemplified by the game shows (such as Deal or No Deal) on the television, the Cody clan are only looking for quick and easy cash (acquiring legitimate employment seems to be out of the question). The only options that are available to them — excluding winning a game show and succeeding in the stock market — are armed robbery and drug dealing. The Cody brothers never seem to contemplate risk, they (like animals) only function on initial instinct.
Where Animal Kingdom might fail, at least in terms of box office appeal, is due to its clumsy and sluggish narrative…oh, yeah, and Michôd’s crippling over-reliance on slow motion tracking shots (which slows the onscreen events down to a snail’s pace). But, in some ways, the dilatory pacing of Animal Kingdom makes the film all that more appealing to me. (Let’s just say that compared to Guy Ritchie’s A.D.D. style of over-the-top quick-paced action, the pacing of Michôd’s narrative resembles a Yasujirô Ozu film.) Michôd allows the audience plenty of time to contemplate the onscreen events and their empathy — or lack there of — for the characters; though being that the camera spends so much time meditating on J, his emotionless and brooding attitude makes it extremely difficult to feel anything for him. Sure, many critics are rejoicing in Michôd’s nontraditional crime film; but, really, when it comes down to it I just wonder how many film-goers will want to sit through a crime film with no action.
Rating: 6/10
WINNEBAGO MAN | Austin Homecoming EXCLUSIVE!
Monday, August 23rd, 2010Last night Smells Like Screen Spirit Executive Writer Don Simpson (Winnebago Man | Review) and I had the pleasure to attend the Winnebago Man homecoming screening at The Alamo Drafthouse S. Lamar in Austin, TX. Not only did we get to sit and enjoy the film with an Alamo Drafthouse crowd, but the filmmakers (Director: Ben Steinbauer, Producer: Joel Heller) were also in attendance to bring the documentary full-circle by introducing and holding a special Q&A after the screening. What made this Q&A so special you ask? Well, just as the Q&A was getting fired up, director Ben Steinbauer pulls out his mobile phone and calls up the legendary Winnebago Man himself, Jack Rebney.
For those of you that are unaware of the man who is also known as ‘The Angriest Man in the World”…
WINNEBAGO MAN tells the story of an unlikely folk hero named Jack Rebney, an 80-year-old curmudgeon, who The New Yorker describes as a cross between John Wayne, Robin Williams and a Royal Tenenbaum. Rebney was a former CBS news producer who ended up filming RV commercials in the 80s, and had his outrageously hilarious outbursts captured on camera. These outtakes became one of the first Internet videos to go “viral” – and they have now been seen by more than 20 million people.
Filmmaker Ben Steinbauer sets out to find Rebney, who it turns out has been living a hermit-like existence on a mountain top since he disappeared nearly 20 years ago. WINNEBAGO MAN is a smart, funny and an unexpectedly redemptive tale of one man’s response to unintended celebrity, and proof that sometimes the truth is both stranger and funnier than fiction.
Jack Rebney is brilliantly long winded enough, so without further ado I have done everyone a kindness and provided my full recording of Ben’s phone call to Jack below. Enjoy!
Nobody’s Perfect | Review
Monday, August 23rd, 2010Nobody’s Perfect follows Niko von Glasow as he attempts to bring to light the plight of the victims of the drug Thalidomide, a sedative introduced in the 50s, which caused birth defects when given to pregnant women. The documentary focuses on von Glosow’s project, a nude calendar featuring “Thalidomides,” the drug’s victims who have unusually short arms and/or legs. Thalidomide was removed from the market soon after (though it would be revived for other medicinal purposes), but not before affecting ten to twenty thousand lives.
Army of Crime, The (L’armée du crime) | Review
Friday, August 20th, 2010Director: Robert Guédiguian
Writer: Robert Guédiguian, Serge Le Péron, Gilles Taurand
Starring: Virginie Ledoyen, Simon Abkarian
“They were twenty-three when the rifles blossomed
Twenty-three who gave their hearts before their time
Twenty-three foreigners but still our brothers
Twenty-three who loved life to death
Twenty-three who cried out “France!” as they fell.”
(Louis Aragon, Strophes pour se souvenir)
The phrase “army of crime” is a reference to a caption on the Affiche Rouge (“red poster”), a propaganda poster campaign with which the Nazis sought to present French resistance fighters as criminals: “Liberators? Liberation by the army of crime.”
Based on the true stories of the Francs-tireurs et partisans – Main-d’œuvre immigrée (FTP-MOI), Army of Crime begins with an Altman-esque intertwining of the very individual narratives concerning a multifarious hodgepodge of anti-fascists operating clandestinely and individually in occupied Paris (a city that seems to have accepted German occupation and the mass deportations of its Jewish residents with timid acquiescence). Eventually the characters realize that their strength would be in numbers and they trade their solitary acts of resistance to join together as an organized underground operation — “a family of fighters to confront the occupiers.” Led by Missak Manouchian (Simon Abkarian), a real-life Armenian poet and card-carrying communist, the ragtag team also includes the hotheaded Polish Jew Marcel Rayman (Robinson Stévenin), Hungarian member of the communist youth Thomas Elek (Grégoire Leprince-Ringuet) and Polish Jewish communist Joseph Epstein (Lucas Belvaux).
By introducing the characters individually first, director Robert Guédiguian establishes their individual motives for their acts of resistance. Manouchian, for one, is reluctant to kill let alone handle a handgun; but after becoming the leader of the FTP-MOI and making his first kill — a grenade attack on a small marching brigade of SS men — Manouchian never expresses any future misgivings about violence. He explains to his wife (Virginie Ledoyen), “I always felt revenge was an awful idea…I’ve become a real fighter. It’s my first act and it won’t be my last. Once you’ve started, you can’t back down.”
Functioning as a cinematic antidote — or palate cleanser — to Quentin Tarantino’s glorifyingly ultra-violent Inglorious Basterds, this French resistance drama makes a concerted effort to focus on the moral and ethical compromises required when one acts in vengeful opposition to their oppressors. When is it appropriate to kill? Who deserves to be killed? What gives one person the right to take another life? (Epstein legitimizes the group’s violence by stating, “We kill people, but we’re on the side of life.”) And what about collateral damage and innocent bystanders? Do the family members (women and children) of Nazis deserve to be killed?
Guédiguian also calls into question the moral and ethical dilemmas related to the seemingly necessary acts of compromise between the free French and their oppressors. The majority of the FTP-MOI opt for total non-compromise (pointedly refusing to give up their comrades during interrogations), but there are some all-out squealers and others — including Manouchian himself — who are willing to denounce their heartfelt beliefs in order to survive. Probably the most questionable compromise is made by Raymon’s Jewish girlfriend, Monique (Lola Naymark), who engages in sex acts with a French police investigator in order to shed her Jewish star, communicate with her captured parents and protect Raymon.
But despite its existential ruminations, Army of Crime plays like an episodic television mini-series that only seems interested in trumping up the sentimentality of the martyrdom of its characters, as is exemplified in the opening and closing sequences in which the captured resistance members names are recited by an off-screen voice as they near their impending executions.
Rating: 5/10
Brotherhood (Broderskab) | Review
Friday, August 20th, 2010Director: Nicolo Donato
Writer(s): Rasmus Birch, Nicolo Donato
Starring: Nicolas Bro, David Dencik, Claus Flygare, Michael Gronnemose, Hanne Hedelund
Recently dismissed from the Danish army as a direct result of rumors of his homosexual behavior, Lars (Thure Lindhardt) – the dashing 22-year-old quintessential Aryan – falls in with a gang of neo-Nazi hoodlums whose leader Michael “Fatty” (Nicolas Bro) sees potential in his intelligent, eloquent and confrontational nature. The primary targets of the members of this local branch of the National Socialists are the “Pakis” who are purportedly settling in Denmark for the sole purpose of acquiring social services and financial assistance (similar to the Tea Party’s perception of “foreigners” in the United States.)
After being booted from his parents’ home, Lars is sent to shack up with one of the group’s A-members, Jimmy (David Dencik), in a cozy seaside house being remodeled for Ebbe (Claus Flygare), the supreme leader of the organization. Jimmy is assigned the task of prepping Lars on the rules of a lifetime A-membership, which Lars has promptly been offered. (Fatty also advices Jimmy to “just make sure [Lars] doesn’t get too cocky.”) The A-membership requires that one pledge to fight for white supremacy, promise to live in harmony with nature’s laws (Jimmy drinks organic beer because it’s important not to “fuck up nature”) and become familiar with the vision of the Third Reich. Though the shaved-skulled Hitler youth enjoy such homoerotic activities as wrestling shirtless, skinny dipping and slamming each other’s sweaty bodies together (a.k.a. slam-dancing), they have an unspoken hatred for “faggots.” (As Lars points out — Hitler had Ernst Rohm, one of his closest allies, executed because he was queer.) Unfortunately for Jimmy and Lars, they fall in love with each other putting their memberships and lives in peril.
Yes, our anti-heroes Lars and Jimmy are extremely bigoted and violent and they certainly don’t deserve our sympathy in any way; but Nicolo Donato’s nuanced direction makes certain that we grant it to them anyway. Donato ensures that we experience the human side of Lars and Jimmy as well as grow to detest the predicament of forbidden love that they find themselves entwined within. This places the audience in a very awkward position: Are we being sympathetic toward two gay men or two extreme racists…or both? Considering that neither Lars nor Jimmy show any signs of wavering on their stance regarding the “Pakis,” it looks like we are stuck sympathizing with racists…but we can only hope that they will change their minds.
The National Socialists may not currently have a stronghold in United States’ politics (as they do in many Scandinavian nations), but it’s difficult not to see similarities between their propaganda and that of the Tea Party (who have yet to release a defining platform, but whose figureheads have expressed anti-immigrant and homophobic sentiments on countless occasions). We may have thought we defeated Hitler and his crazy ideologies in 1945, but Brotherhood is a bitter reminder that judgments based purely on race, religion and sexual orientation still exist (as if we still need a reminder after the passage of bills such as California’s Proposition 8 and Arizona’s SB 1070).
Rating: 7.5/10
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