It is 1997 and New York City is in a state of intense flux when documentary filmmaker Erik Rothman (Thure Lindhardt) first meets Paul Lucy (Zachary Booth), a handsome but closeted lawyer in the publishing field. What begins as a highly charged first encounter soon becomes something much more, and a relationship quickly develops. As the two men start building a home and life together, each continues to privately battle their own compulsions and addictions. A film about sex, friendship, intimacy and most of all, love, Keep the Lights On takes an honest look at the nature of relationships in our times.

Writer-director Ira Sachs’ Keep the Lights On won the Teddy for Best Feature Film at the 2012 Berlin International Film Festival. Our European contributor Anna Bielak chatted with Sachs at Berlinale.

Anna Bielak: During the Q&A after the Keep The Lights On screening at the Berlinale you said that there are about three thousand people you would like to thank. What kind of problems did you face during shooting the film?

Ira Sachs: To be honest I need to admit that shooting Keep The Lights On didn’t take lots of time. I finished the script in January 2011 and had lots of freedom on the set. I was using money as it came in slowly, but from many different sources. I got enormous support from various homosexual societies in New York, which were interested in my project because of its subject.

AB: Eric and Paul’s relationship lasts ten years. Viewers meet them in the late 1990s. Did you stick to that time period because it was a specific one for homosexual culture in New York?

IS: I wouldn’t like to think about the film as an image representative for a specific culture and time. I would prefer if you watch Keep The Lights On as a simple love story. Time is interesting only if it shows the emotional evolution of the relationship — breaking ups, comebacks, changes. Moreover, the action starts in 1998 and finishes ten years later. Thanks to that, it is a much more contemporary story than one may think. I didn’t want to focus on the time period by marking the details which could help viewers situate episodes at a specific time. We only changed the cellphone models for older ones, and we used older versions of computers… The plot is focused on emotions, sexuality, looking for identity and acceptance of changes. What interested me most were secrets hidden by Eric and Paul. I was trying to figure out how those mysteries buried deep down in their souls could influence their visible gestures and reactions. This is a story about secrets. Its title alludes that we should keep the lights on — never hide anything in the shadows…

AB: The plot is based on your own love story. What happens with your memories during the years? Do you look at them with a more optimistic attitude now? Edie Brickell sings that “it’s hard to see when the lights go down”. Is it easier to see when the lights are kept on?

IS: Yes… In this regard Keep the Lights On is very different from Forty Shades of Blue (2005). There is a kind of transgressive dimension in it. Along with the time, emotions have been going through changes as have my memories about them. It is a natural ability of human psyche. In a way, the cinematic images became transparent too. It is easier to work with them, editing them. The Eric and Paul identities are based on materials I was collecting during those years in my mind. Experiences are like documents we keep in files. Yet, both — the files and archives are nothing more than my psyche. I didn’t focus on the reality. My inner side was the most important issue for me. It shapes the world around the heroes.

AB: You’ve changed the nationality of Eric. He was a New Yorker, now he is Dannish and Thure Lindhardt plays his part. Why?

IS: I did it for Thure! He is perspicacious, curious, and terribly talented. As soon as I saw him at the audition, I already knew that it was a part written for him. His appearance combined with his specific sensibility and sexuality gave me all what I wanted from the actor. Moreover, when I turn my memories into stories in the script they change into kind of prop that needs to be outplayed. It is like a spectacle and Thure finds himself in the leading part of the show directed by me.

AB: It is your second film that the main protagonist is not an American, however the action is set in the U.S. There is a Russian actress in Forty Shades of Blue – Dina Korzun. Metaphorically speaking — it is all about emphasizing the feeling of strangeness?

IS: Yes, I like stressing the presence of outsider, which is very important for me on many different levels of its meaning. Yet, there is one more reason I cast the European actors — I love their ways of expressing! The style of European acting is very different from the American one. Europeans lets themselves improvise. Emotion is the basis for everything they are doing on the set. It fascinates me. Thanks to Thure, I brought onto the set Paprika Steen one more time [she plays a peripheral role in Forty Shades of Blue]. I think she is the one of most talented actresses in the world, so having opportunity to work with her — I couldn’t say no!

AB: You work with Arthur Russell Jr.’s music. His pieces fit perfectly into the plot and atmosphere of the film. As far as I know, the musician’s story isn’t far off from the topics you take on?

IS: A few years ago, I saw a great documentary about Arthur Russell Jr. called Wild Combination. I was stunned by his compositions! Most of them hadn’t been released before his death. I have been listening to them over and over again and I found beauty devoid of sentimentality and depth without pretentiousness. I wanted to have that type of music in my film. I am currently working on biographical story about Arthur Russell Jr. and his relationship with Tom Lee — his last, long-term life partner. Arthur was dealing with an incurable disease, but he never stopped composing. His enthusiasm and pertinacity are very inspiring. His photo was hanging on a wall in the editing room while we were working on Keep The Lights On. Russell was lying on the beach, listening to the radio, singing… The atmosphere of this photography accompanied me while working on this film.

AB: Thimios Bakatakis’ cinematography is very picturesque; the images are like the painted sketches we see in the background of the opening credits…

IS: The images from the prologue were painted by my husband — we got married a month ago. Every single picture is a portrait. Keep the Lights On is also a portrait of two men. Yet, there is a specific humor in those sketches that appears thanks to conscious cropping. At the very beginning Thimos Bakatakis was afraid that the shots we were planning to do could be too heavy, too pathetic. He got rid of every doubt the moment he saw the opening sequence of images prepared by my husband. The light was essential for both — sketches and shots. Yet, I already knew that the cinematographer I chose knew perfectly well how to make a useful tool of light. He was the cinematographer of Dogtooth (2009) and Attenberg (2010). I was sure that he knew how to work on 16mm and felt comfortable with human body.

AB: What does human body mean to you?

IS: While I was working with Thimos Bakatakis I noticed that he looks at the human body as he looks at a lamp on the table. The body in film is nothing more than a form, a figure, a model that appears on the screen as it could appear on the painter’s canvas. What is also important? Not dividing sexuality from the everyday life of a person. It is a part of it, a crucial part. Sex and carnality are parts of every story.

Go to Interia.pl for the original Polish-language version of Anna’s interview.

Norwegian writer-director Joachim Trier’s second feature — Oslo, August 31st — follows Anders (Anders Danielsen Lie) as he nears successfully completing treatment at a drug rehab in the Norwegian countryside. Anders is permitted to travel to Oslo for a job interview, but he uses the opportunity to attempt to reconnect with friends and family. Anders is as smart and handsome as ever, but he is deeply haunted by all of the past opportunities he has wasted and all of the people he has disappointed. He may feel like his life is already over but he tries to maintain a fleeting glimmer of hope.

An official selection at Cannes Film Festival 2011 (Un Certain Regard), AFI Fest 2011, Toronto International Film Festival 2011, Sundance Film Festival 2012 and New Directors/New Films Festival 2012, Oslo, August 31st is a harrowing character study that is certain to leave no viewer unscathed. We chatted with Trier on the eve of Strand Releasing’s theatrical release of Oslo, August 31st in the United States.

Don Simpson: What is the significance of the date August 31st?

Joachim Trier: We have very clearly defined seasons in Norway. There is something about the last day of summer in Norway — there is a sense of melancholy that I think suits the story perfectly, as the beauty of summer begins to wither. Being a film buff, to name a film after a specific time and place, using the fundamental elements of cinema — space and time. The film is also a farewell letter, and you sign a letter with a place and date. All of that made us arrive at that title.

DS: Can you talk about your approach to the narrative structure of Oslo, August 31st – specifically the balancing of dialogue with silence?

JT: There is something interesting about working with a narrative structure of 24 hours, it actually liberates you to have an incredible amount of variation in terms of the mood. During the course of a day you will have long periods of talk and long periods of silence. We wanted the film to have that clear dynamic. We really wanted to focus in on that type of conversation that occurs between two really good friends, where one is trying to help the other figure out some really complicated issues in life. How that challenges of the ideals of the past that they have shared, and all of their intellectual notions. There is this sense of reality and real problems — how do they deal with that? I also wanted the ending to be very quiet, very musical and sensuous; more image driven.

DS: How did you approach incorporating reality into your work of fiction? I have read that Robert Bresson has been influential for you.

JT: On a philosophical level, I was inspired by the Bressonian idea that reality is something that transcends the every day surroundings that we inhabit. Realism is something that is poetic and hidden. You can strive to create an image — rather than use kitchen sink reductive realism, which says that if something feels real then that’s the truth. Truth is something that is slippery; it is in between images, in absences. I am not very dogmatic when it comes to my mise-en-scène, the way I frame or shoot things. I try to be very intuitive, but I also know that those are the most important choices you make. The themes and the musicality and the motion are ultimately carried by the shot structure of the film. When you close your eyes and think about a film, certain images will arise, and that has to do with those choices. One shouldn’t try to copy Bresson’s style specifically, but there is something very spiritual — though I am not a religious person — in the fact that an image can carry multiple meanings. There is something inspiring about his approach to cinema.

DS: The urban landscape of Oslo plays a significant role in the film. You seem to stage scenes in very specific locations to comment upon the city.

JT: We tried to make an emotionally structured journey through the city. I know the city so well — I grew up in it — so I could very quickly map out places that I thought had the right sense about them, the right emotion or feeling. I believe that certain spaces combined with certain life situations will elicit very particular emotions. Bicycling at night down a street, just as the sun is coming up, with a fire extinguisher that blows out smoke — to capture a scene in that exact place and time, that is very fulfilling and fun as a filmmaker. To set out to capture a sense of place and time like that, then to show those images to an audience halfway across the world and have them comment on that particular moment. It is thrilling! It is a childish notion of representing something that you know and trying to capture it to show to someone else. Does it work? Do they like it? Is it intriguing?

DS: What is your experience with addiction?

JT: I have never had those particular troubles in my own life, but I have seen it with people very close to me. I grew up skateboarding and I have watched those friends go in very different directions. After we stopped skateboarding, some became rock stars or lawyers while others became drug addicts. It is a mystery to me. I will never understand how these people’s journeys have left them in such terrible positions. I wanted to break away from the victim cliche of representing someone with a drug addiction that we often see in cinema; when they are just a victim of society or come from a bad family background. I have seen a lot of wonderful and resourceful, strong and smart people, become addicts — I wanted to talk about that.

DS: Anders has a push-pull relationship with modern society as well as his family. He constantly questions whether he is being accepted and trusted.

JT: I think he suffers from self-destructive integrity. Nothing is good enough. He has high ideals, high expectations, great ambitions. He is above everything. At the same time he is below everything. He feels very inferior, below things and shameful. He can’t tune into the middle frequency that the rest of us have to try to work on. He’s above and below rather than in the right balance — that is very much what Anders is about. There is a lot of lack of acceptance in himself that I want to explore — I think that is a very human thing. He has also ended up hurting a lot of people in his life. I am trying to portray a long process of a life in just one day. In the film, we talk a lot about how codependency or co-addiction works. His sister and his parents have a very hard time relating to him. He knows that it is very much his own fault and that’s the tragedy of it.

DS: Can you talk about the role that Existentialism plays in Oslo, August 31st?

JT: I grew up in a family and society in which religion did not play a big part in my approach to life, and that takes a toll on you. I don’t think I read philosophy and try to apply it directly to the films that I make, but it is all part of my upbringing or my curiosity. There is something wonderful in film where you can make good portraits of the experience of loneliness and ask existential questions without being literal about it.

DS: Which country’s cinematic history to you feel the closest kinship with?

JT: A lot actually. As far as doing good character studies, I am very inspired by American cinema. I was looking at Hud, The Hustler, and Sidney Lumet’s films — these wonderful performances in American cinema where actors have gone really far and in deep into a character’s study. Anders Danielsen Lie went all the way and spent six months engulfing himself with this terribly complicated character and changed his physique, his appearance, his mental state. But I also look to films from a lot of other places across the world. European films of the 1960s that took the camera into the streets. I think that’s something that is very inspiring. You have that in America as well. Something like that 25th Hour (2002) by Spike Lee — the sense in American cinema of doing something about contemporary life. There is a tendency in Europe — and I am generalizing here, so I apologize for that — to always look towards the past and not be able to make things that are dramatically relevant to the present. This is something I am dealing with on two levels with Oslo, August 31st. I am trying to capture the here and now in Norway and document that for the future; but I am also making a story about the dangers of nostalgia, where Anders is looking for the gold path that he’s lost, the opportunities of the past that he can never regain, and that is making it difficult for him to move forward in life.

Director: Braden King

Writers: Braden King, Dani Valent

Starring: Ben Foster, Lubna Azabal, Peter Coyote, Narek Nersisyan, Aren Vatyan, Christina Hovaguimyan, Datekiv Kharibyan

Will (Ben Foster) is a California-based cartographer on contract in Armenia to confirm the satellite mapping of the country. He travels around Armenia, making frequent stops along the way; he whips out his laptop and antennas, connects to the satellite, then moves on to his next location. It is a lonely existence. Will does not know Armenian, and most of the Armenians he encounters do not know English. The only way Will seems to be able to connect with Armenians is via his penchant for alcohol — Will has a knack for becoming fast friends with Armenians after a few shots of vodka.

On one fateful morning, Will is hungover. He just wants to order an omelette at the hotel cafe, but he frustratingly fumbles in his attempts to communicate with the waitress. He can repeat the word “egg” all he wants, but she is never going to understand him.

Luckily, Gadarine (Lubna Azabal) comes to his rescue. A world traveler, Gadarine is able to translate for Will. Gadarine is Armenian; she has just returned to her ancestral homeland after winning a photography grant in Paris. Gadarine comes from a working class family in Armenia, and they do not understand Gadarine’s bohemian lifestyle. They cannot comprehend why Gadarine would want to party with the Armenian elite, or vice versa. Why can’t Gadarine just stay at home with her parents — maybe even settle down with a good Armenian man?

Will and Gadarine become traveling companions who develop a romance of convenience. Neither of them seem all that invested in their relationship; they are much too invested in their own existential crises. Since we learn more about Gadarine and her situation, her motives seem much less selfish than Will; unfortunately, Will comes off as a grumpy and closed-off asshole who only loosens up whenever he is drunk. Will is so secretive and reserved that he refuses to even divulge any information about his job. (Maybe he is a spy?) Maybe Gadarine and Will are attracted to each other because they are both so lost and confused? They are both attempting to navigate the world and find the right place for to exist. They are looking for the perfect “here” to call home. The problem is that both characters have a history of running rather than staying and dealing with things. With this approach to life, they might never discover their “here.”

There is a reason that Will is a cartographer and Gadarine is a photographer — their careers explain to us the different ways they perceive the world. Will is a scientist; he is as detached and calculated as a satellite, observing the world from afar. His detachment from the world is further exemplified by his presence in a country where he is unable to communicate with others. Gadarine is a dreamer; she has made a career of capturing the vibrant minutia of every day life. She transforms her surroundings into art. Most likely a polyglot, Gadarine is able to interact with the world, no matter where she is — this will probably come in handy since her lifestyle has practically exiled her from her homeland.

Writer-director Braden King’s oblique and allusive visual approach to the narrative is what really draws me in — especially the Stan Brakhage-esque montages (though Peter Coyote’s voiceover narration is maybe a bit too heavy-handed for me). King relies quite heavily upon Lol Crawley’s cinematography to convey any sense of emotion or significance. Here basically places its two protagonists in a location that they are both at odds with; so it is the country of Armenia (primarily its culture, politics, economics and geography) that causes the tensions of the film, not the characters themselves. The characters barely speak (this is partially because Will is rendered mute by his inability to communicate with anyone but Gadarine), they mostly observe the landscape around them.

Here seems to be more about Gadarine (she is certainly the only empathetic character), though Will’s perspective seems more prevalent in the context of the narrative. By spending so much time with Will, King builds an impenetrable wall around the film that is very similar to the one Will has built around himself. It is as if King — like Will — does not want to tell us anything about anything. Here could have been a very intriguing story about a woman’s sense of disconnect with her family and homeland; instead, it is essentially about a secretive and mopey American.

Rating: 6/10

Director: Xavier Dolan

Writer: Xavier Dolan

Starring: Nathalie Baye, Melvil Poupaud, Monia Chokri, Suzanne Clément, Yves Jacques, Guylaine Tremblay, Catherine Bégin, Sophie Faucher

I would like to dance to Xavier Dolan movies — especially Laurence Anyways, which screened in Cannes’ Un Certain Regard section — I love the rhythm, I like the aesthetics, I appreciate the good companionship; yet, Laurence causes me some troubles. I gave Dolan a lot of credit after watching his truly amazing Les amours imaginaires (2010). Today, I am fond of his latest movie but I am considering the French-Canadian director as an author. Watching Laurence as an individual piece of art might develop into annoyance or into deep fascination. That opinion is good enough to make one go to the cinema, spend nearly three hours of their life there and decide on which side it is better to be –- among those who think that the story is hot or those who judge Laurence as a cold, hard-headed and never-ending story. There is nothing in between but me…

I am in the middle of the road between hatred and love. If I choose the latter, I should view Laurence with all of the benefits of the inventory; yet, I cannot do this. I start with recalling my memories of Les amours imaginaires.

In the opening sequence of Laurence, a woman walks down the street, people look at her, viewers follow her behind her back. Fever Ray’s “If I Had a Heart” reverberates in the air. Shall she turn away in slow motion? Would we see the confused face of Monia Chokri? No, that would be too much pleasure. Dolan gives the viewers a taste of what he does best -– his style, point of view, and the feeling of eroticism. Yet, after that very promising prologue, Dolan crosses the border of taste too many times and in too many directions.

Let’s stay with Laurence (Melvil Poupad) for a little while. He is a teacher in high school; he lives with his girlfriend Fred (Suzanne Clément), a television producer. We are in the 1990s. They have a colorful, extravagant life, which Dolan exhibits within the frames by adding red, blue and yellow filters to the images. Dolan edits his scenes in the style of music videos. He juxtaposes my world to Laurence’s disco-punk lifestyle. Things are simple until Laurence starts to feel that everything up until now was nothing more than a lie. Now in his 30s, the day has come when Laurence discovers that he has always been a woman. What about Fred? She loves Laurence — the man; it is not easy for her, yet she accepts his inner needs and new, transsexual appearance. If I continue looking at them after Laurence’s coming-out, I discover that this colorful, original girl starts to systematically vanish while Laurence’s new identity is fostered. Under the control of the vintage-loving director, Fred resigns from her unique clothes and style, and begins to wear neuter jumpers and ties up her red hair.

Fred would have been instantly wiped out of the film if she left Laurence for someone else, especially if the narrative chose not to follow her. This is when Dolan’s film begins to get worse. Something more than just their relationship has ended (and we are only in the middle of the story!); the protagonists must choose if they want simplicity in their lives or if they prefer beat-style artistic chaos. These two options are given to the audience as well. I wanted to stay with Laurence but I understood Fred’s doubts. I needed help from Dolan. I wanted him to help me through all of this madness. Instead, I notice his smiling face among the guests of a party that Fred attends. He looks briefly into my eyes and turns away, leaving me with myself in the middle of the road between hatred and love. He kept the streets empty for me — should I be thankful?

Rating: 7/10

Director: Benh Zeitlin

Writers: Benh Zeitlin, Lucy Alibar

Starring: Quvenzhané Wallis, Dwight Henry, Jonshel Alexander, Marilyn Barbarin, Kaliana Brower, Henry D. Coleman, Joseph Brown, Nicholas Clark

The light in Benh Zeitlin’s Beast of the Southern Wild is similar to the light that Terrence Malick captures in his films. In Zeitlin’s film, the light is imprisoned within the frames of a portrait that depicts a world suffering from a peculiar catastrophe. It haunts my mind and disturbs my soul, but I like it. From the very first scene in which she appears, I am a bit fascinated with Zeitlin’s lead protagonist and her ill father who appears a few minutes later. They inhabit two old and devastated, wooden cottages in the forest near the river. Hushpuppy (Quvenzhané Wallis) is named after an animal. She is like a little beast of this southern wild. She is sweet and dreadfully intelligent. She knows how to survive. She squeals as if she is the real bird of prey and she sees how the wind blows. With these gifts, Hushpuppy’s senses have become really strong that her(!) world is drawing near its end.

Apart from the girl’s hypnotic visions, I find it very interesting how independent filmmakers portray the apocalyptic world. They usually resign to portraying dirt cities (as mainstream directors do) to catch a glimpse of a dying environment (such as Harmony Korine’s Gummo or Jan Kwiecinski’s episode in The Forth Dimension); they focus on a wild, sort of bizarre, beauty. Hushpuppy sees it all, appreciates it all, and drags me into the process of decay. She hardly knows the adult world; yet, as an actress, Quvenzhané Wallis knows perfectly well what to do to magnetize the viewer. Her presence is vital; the demons chasing her in her dreams are essential. She needs to wait for them to come into her reality; she has to face them in a world that is falling apart right in front of her eyes.

“Just don’t cry!” says Wink (Dwight Henry), her father. He says that twice. Even if it helps Hushpuppy remain brave, it has no proper influence on me. It is more or less like telling someone “just don’t fall in love with me”; because we all know (as protagonists of romantic comedies have taught us), that it is the fastest and easiest way to make someone love you. So, I cried. I am not ashamed of it because it happens about twice a year in cinema (even if I watch about 300 movies a year) and I am glad to set my emotions free; it assures me that I have experienced something real, extraordinary and unforgettable.

Rating: 10/10

Director: Peter Berg

Writers: Erich Hoeber, Jon Hoeber

Starring: Taylor Kitsch, Liam Neeson, Brooklyn Decker, Alexander Skarsgard, Rihanna, Tadanobu Asano, Hamish Linklater, Peter MacNicol, John Tui, Jesse Plemons, Gregory D. Gadson, Jerry Ferrara

When one considers what a film adaptation of the classic guessing game Battleship might look like, images of green radar screens, monstrous steel ships, and World War II military uniforms come to mind. Director Peter Berg’s iteration pairs these expectations with some more random elements to create the desultory alien invasion action flick Battleship.

Battleship takes place in an alterna-contemporary universe where a new planet with similar atmospheric conditions to earth has been discovered. Earth’s attempts at communications elicit a less than desirable reaction: an attack by four Transformers-esque ships filled with ambiguously motivated humanoid aliens.

At the earth’s defense is a small fleet of Destroyers manned by a handful of U.S. and Japanese naval officers, including Alex Popper (Taylor Kitsch). Popper is one of those standard action film protagonists who is underestimated by his peers but manages to outperform all expectations under true duress. Kitsch is joined at sea by Rihanna, Alexander Skarsgård, Tadanobu Asano, and the ever esteemed Liam Neeson.

Together, the crews of the various ships attempt to battle the destructive alien force in a series of uninspired action scenes. In one particularly clunky sequence, writers Erich and Jon Hoeber struggle to draw a comparison to the original game by having the military aim their guns according to a booey grid. As tense as Rihanna may appear while aiming a gun to D37 or J17, a pop singer holding a toy isn’t enough to support an action movie, or even hold our interest.

In the lead role, Kitsch is all vacant expressions, delivering every line hollow and forced. His best scenes are those in the first ten minutes of the film, when he is established as a dim-witted, good looking ne’er-do-well. Kitsch’s face and physicality lend him to ignorant comedy; as soon as he assumes military stance, cuts his hair, and lowers his voice a few octaves, he becomes a much less funny kind of joke.

In addition to the wooden performances and lackluster action, there are a few bothersome political choices that further highlight the lack of thought behind the film. Namely, Battleship is set near Pearl Harbor, apparently in hopes of drawing on history to give artificial weight to the conflict. However, the filmmakers clearly didn’t want to deal with the political aspects of using such a tragic and controversial event for their purposes, and thus toss in a few token Japanese characters. What may have seemed like a clever cover up in the writer’s room here feels phony, manipulative, and racist.

There are numerous faults that could be added to the laundry list of problems with the film, but they all fall under a general umbrella: Berg has supplied the ship and forgotten to load the guns. The film is all aim, no kill shot, and with its over two hour runtime, a dragging and unsatisfying mess. If Berg accomplishes anything with this shipwreck, it’s a reminder of the unique experience while playing the game: that moment of sinking disappointment when you admit, “You sunk my Battleship.”

Rating: 4/10

Director: Tanya Wexler

Writers: Stephen Dyer, Jonah Lisa Dyer

Starring: Hugh Dancy, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Felicity Jones, Rupert Everett, Jonathan Pryce

One of history’s greatest anti-feminist myths has to do with hysteria, the catch all medical term once used to describe “erratic” female behavior such as anxiety, depression, anger, frustration, enthusiasm, and sexual dissatisfaction. Tanya Wexler’s film Hysteria tackles the subject with a study of the invention that allegedly helped treat the disorder: the vibrator. Set in the Victorian era, Hysteria follows the journey of Mortimer Granville (Hugh Dancy), an aspiring young doctor who finds himself employed in a lucrative hysteria treatment office run by Dr. Robert Dalrymple (Jonathan Pryce). Granville discovers that the popular office supplies a unique service: treatment of the disorder through sexual stimulation. As he struggles to succeed in his new position, he juggles interactions with Dr. Dalrymple’s two daughters: the proper Emily (Felicity Jones) and the inflammatory Charlotte (Maggie Gyllenhaal). Charlotte appeals to his desire to actually help people rather than supporting the fabricated concept of hysteria, while Emily represents a lucrative future supporting existing gender roles and societal norms.

While the concept of the film seems to indicate a smart, political, and charming narrative with a fantastic cast, the film fails to pull all of its elements together to deliver. Too much seems to rely on the very simple gimmick of it being a film about–gasp–inventing a vibrator! In fact, the vibrator element of the film occupies only a small portion, and those scenes are primarily supported by Granville’s dear friend, Lord Edmund St. John-Smythe. The Lord is played by Ruper Everett, whose face is so distractingly changed that the filmmaker often makes him perform from offscreen or shoots him behind other objects. As a result, scenes including Everett and the haphazard invention of the vibrator feel almost tacked on, failing to take the spotlight in a film that hinges upon their inclusion.

This clumsy concept is then paired with a forced romance that is not supported by the actors’ chemistry or clever writing. While Gyllenhaal is certainly the film’s main draw, acting her passionate scenes with a desperate and believable vigor, even she fails to successfully engage the viewers in the superficial romance.

In addition to these core failures, the film attempts to push a feminist agenda through examination of the ridiculous way that the term hysteria was used to control women in the Victorian era. However, a simple study of a historical period, layered with phoney attempts at not-so-biting humor, is not enough to deliver a convincing thesis or insight. Instead, the political nature of the film feels badly researched and shallow.

As a romantic comedy, the film may garner a passable grade due to Gyllenhaal’s performance and the freshness of Dancy’s eager doctor, but any viewer with standards will find that Hysteria, a film about excitement and satisfaction, is surprisingly disappointing and boring.

Rating: 4/10

Director: Jacques Audiard

Writers: Jacques Audiard (screenplay), Thomas Bidegain (screenplay), Craig Davidson (story)

Starring: Marion Cotillard, Matthias Schoenaerts, Armand Verdure, Celine Salette, Corinne Masiero, Bouli Lanners, Jean-Michel Correia

There is something about Jacques Audiard’s latest film, Rust & Bone (which screened in competition at Cannes 2012), that calls upon my bad memories of Oskar Röhler’s adaptation of Michel Houellebecq’s novel Elementary Particles. Though Craig Davidson’s short stories belong to the prehistory of Audiard’s project, too many of the source elements were lost in translation. Like Röhler, Audiard focuses on the main, most dramatic events of his two characters; the narration expands upon two accidents, and the story in between is filled with naturalistic episodes that seem deprived of authentic psychology. Having in mind (the great!) A Prophet, I was expecting more than an assemblage of tragic attractions that should have been shocking enough to keep the ball rolling.

Early on, I was a bit enchanted with the beautiful sadness that emanates from the two parallel stories of Ali (Matthias Schoenaerts) and Stephanie (Marion Cotillard). I wanted to keep an eye on the homeless father and his five-year-old son who try to find shelter under the roof of a man’s poor sister; while I found the portrait of a woman who trains killer whales during the day and looks for dangerous fun at night interesting. Those two characters might develop an interesting relationship, which I would like to follow. Yet, my interest in their story broke down; nothing arose between me and them, apart from fatigue. Audiard uses too many clichés to develop his film. He tries to tell a story about people who find themselves in conditions of which they do not approve; instead of interesting me in their stories, he makes me feel uncomfortably bored with their attempts to make changes.

Ali needs to take care of his son; he has never really done that before. Stephanie is forced to change her perspective on life after an accident at the swimming pool where she loses her legs. Audiard wants to portray the process of changes, but he seems to forget how long it might last. Everything in his movie is as simple as sex between his two protagonists. It just happens one afternoon. It happens like an accident — suddenly and without reasonable intentions. Watching Rust & Bone, we are forced to jump from one feeling to another, in exactly the same way as Röhler’s Elementary Particles.

Rust & Bone lacks essence. The main role in the story belongs to bodies, not people. The corpse is only a figure — and I need something more to delve into. Audiard’s film does not influence me; but it finally did move my body [from my seat] when the end credits appeared on screen, and I felt like I could eventually leave the screening hall.

Rating: 4/10

Smells Like Screen Spirit & Arc Entertainment invite you

to RSVP for passes to our special advance screenings of

FOR GREATER GLORY

May 22, 2012 at 7:30 PM in

Austin, Dallas, Houston & San Antonio, TX.

Synopsis: What price would you pay for freedom?  In the exhilarating action epic FOR GREATER GLORY, an impassioned group of men and women each make the decision to risk it all for family, faith and the very future of their country, as the film’s adventure unfolds against the long-hidden, true story of the 1920s Cristero War ­the daring people’s revolt that rocked 20th Century North America.

Academy Award® nominee Andy Garcia headlines an acclaimed cast as General Gorostieta, the retired military man who at first thinks he has nothing personal at stake as he and his wife (Golden Globe winner Eva Longoria) watch Mexico fall into a violent civil war.  Yet the man who hesitates in joining the cause will soon become the resistance’s most inspiring and self-sacrificing leader, as he begins to see the cost of religious persecution on his countrymen…and transforms a rag-tag band of rebels into a heroic force to be reckoned with.  The General faces impossible odds against a powerful and ruthless government.  Yet it is those he meets on the journey – youthful idealists, feisty renegades and, most of all, one remarkable teenager named Jose ­ who reveal to him how courage and belief are forged even when justice seems lost.

Director Dean Wright brings a visual power honed from years as a leading Hollywood effects guru­ on such blockbusters as TITANIC, THE LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy and CHRONICLES OF NARNIA ­ to this real-life tale that has never been told on screen before.  The film is written by Michael Love.  The producer is Pablo Jose Barroso.  Garcia and Longoria lead a stellar multinational cast that includes the legendary Oscar®-nominated and Oscar® Lifetime Achievement recipient Peter O’Toole, rapidly rising star Oscar Isaac (DRIVE), recording star and actor Ruben Blades (SAFE HOUSE), Bruce Greenwood (STAR TREK, SUPER 8), Nestor Carbonell (THE DARK KNIGHT RISES), Bruce McGill (LINCOLN), Santiago Cabrera (“Heroes,” CHE), Oscar®-nominated Catalina Sandino Moreno (MARIA FULL OF GRACE) and Eduardo Verástegui (BELLA).

Shooting on historic locations throughout Mexico, the equally accomplished behind the scenes team includes director of photography Eduardo Martinez Solares (BAD HABITS), Oscar®-nominated editor Richard Francis-Bruce (THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION, SEVEN, HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER’S STONE), production designer Salvador Parra (VOLVER) and Oscar®-winning composer James Horner (AVATAR, TITANIC, BRAVEHEART).

Director: Dean Wright

Starring: Andy Garcia, Eva Longoria, Peter O’Toole, Oscar Isaac, Santiago Cabrera, Catalina Sandino Morena, Bruce Greenwood

Studio: Arc Entertainment

MPAA Ratinng: R

Release Date: June 1, 2012

Screening Info: Tuesday, May 22nd at 7:30PM

NO PURCHASE NECESSARY.

Austin click here to RSVP

Dallas click here to RSVP

Houston click here to RSVP

San Antonio click here to RSVP

Arrive early. Screenings are over-booked to ensure a full house and to compensate for “no shows.” Tickets are not a guarantee of admission.

Strand Releasing released writer-director Markus Schleinzer’s Michael on DVD in the United States today. To celebrate, we figured that we would post a clip from Michael. And let’s just say that after watching this clip, “Sunny” will have an entirely new meaning…

Writer/Director: Markus Schleinzer
Starring: Michael Fuith, David Rauchenberger, Christine Kain, Ursula Strauss, Victor Tremmel, Xaver Winkler, Thomas Pfalzmann

Not to be confused with the Nora Ephron film starring John Travolta, Austrian writer-director Markus Schleinzer’s Michael is an everyday portrait of a pedophile. (Yes, you read that correctly.) A very average-looking thirtysomething, Michael (Michael Fuith) spends his mundane days working in an insurance office. Then, when he arrives home after work, Michael closes the shutters of his windows nice and tight and heads down to the basement to visit Wolfgang (David Rauchenberger), the 10-year-old boy whom he keeps locked up down there. Michael and Wolfgang have dinner, wash dishes, watch movies and play games; then Michael ushers Wolfgang back to the basement and locks him up again… Schleinzer makes Michael’s disturbing sexual deviancy seem surprisingly normal. Except for one scene, Michael never becomes the stereotypical, creepy and deranged pedophile that Hollywood has consistently revealed to us. (Mind the pun.) Instead, Michael is all about keeping up the appearances of a banal, middle-class, suburban existence. He is a model employee at work, keeps his home impeccably tidy and clean, maintains regular contact with his sister and mother, goes on a ski trip with some buddies… (Check out our 8 out of 10 review of Micheal.)