Madonna is often described as the “queen of controversy”, and indeed there have been few people in history as voluntarily controversial as Madonna. One of the such controversies is the register of the Blond Ambition tour in 1990 in the documentary Truth or Dare (also known as In Bed with Madonna, by Alek Keshisian, 1991). From the threats of arrest for “public indecency” in Canada to the commitment to gay liberation, the documentary is an intimate look at the singer and exposed to the media her relation with her dancers. Twenty-five years later, two documentary-makers from Belgium and the Netherlands meets again the performers who knew how to vogue and investigates how they are living now.

In 1990 the pop superstar was looking for dancers who would become role models for the gay community and inspire a new dance craze, which basically consisted posing as a drama queen and pouting on the dancefloor. At first, she found the choreographers Jose Gutierez and Luis Camacho. Then they picked up the gay dancers Salim Gauwollos, Kevin Alex, Carlton Wilbourne and Gabriel Trupin as well as the hiphopper Oliver Crumes Jr, the only straight guy in the troupe. For a short period of time, they became Madonna’s family, and the pop start herself cast herself in the role of mother figure.

Soon after the tour, there was an idyll for the boys. They would express themselves as flamboyant personalities but for most of them reality was hard to deal with. With fame and success they got into a bubble and they didn’t care about anyone else. Ironically, whist spreading the message of freedom and safe sex, they weren’t doing what they preached. Gabriel died at age 26 of Aids-related illness.

Strike a Pose redeems the underground scene in New York City in the 1990s and sets the superstar as a pivotal figure.

The saga also has its negative side. Gabriel sued Madonna pleading for a kissing scene, alleging that it would ‘out’ him to his family and friends. In a way, the movie perpetuates the rooted idea that the gay community has solely two goals: to be accepted and to dodge HIV and the stigma attached to it. There is nothing more prejudiced than such reductionism.

On the other hand, the documentary wipes out the pejorative connotation of “being different” by humanising the dancers with all of their strengths and weaknesses. They all dealt with the consequences of being catapulted to famed at a very young age and being rushed into adult life. One of them says he learnt not to judge; that’s only only for saints and sages.

The film was screened as part of the Panorama series in the 66th Berlin Film Festival this week, where DMovies is live with two journalists following the event.

How to instill innovation and subversion into a film with several mainstream actors and a traditional British director? Bring back forgotten American writers from the 1920s, and top it up with a twist of friendship. If you are going to tell the same old story and fill it with some clichés, at least find a novel approach. Genius does indeed rely on the performances of Jude Law, Nicole Kidman and Colin Firth, but at least the director pushes them to new extremes.

Genius opens with a typical scene of America living the Depression: a broke writer under the rain. The film, however, quickly challenges the clichéd association between rain and misery and turns precipitation into hope. Thomas Wolf (Jude Law) is about to be discovered by his editor Max Perkins (Colin Firth).

Max Perkins, editor at Scribner’s Sons, is the first one to publish Ernest Hemingway (Dominic West) and F. Scott Fitzgerald (Guy Pearce). When a sprawling, chaotic 1,000-page manuscript by an unknown writer named Thomas Wolfe falls into his hands, Perkins is convinced he has discovered a literary genius. As an editor, he has to cut words and transform a huge number of pages into manageable reading. How to respect individuality and genius and still imprint quality in a book? Colin Firth explains: “His intention was to remain invisible”. Genius succeeds at uncovering the work of an invisible man to a very broad audience, possibly inspiring new generations to reclaim the valued of unsung geniuses.

It is not the first time Jude Law has to speak in a different accent. He did it in his previous feature, Black Sea (Kevin MacDonald, 2014) in which he plays a Scottish Captain. He listened to recordings of people from the same area and particularly studied how to pronounce the vowels in order to recreate the character. Guy Pearce says that in order to impersonate someone famous you must conduct extensive research, and to understand the characters personality and psychology, but it eventually gets to a point where “you have to follow your guts”.

Wolf became a resounding success and grew increasingly paranoid. He experienced what he wrote about at the coalface instead of observing it from a distance, and the often paid high price for that. Jude Law delivers a performance so explosive that it is almost un-British. The chemistry between two very different personalities is possibly also their leitmotif.

Genius premiered at 66th Berlin Film Festival this week, and DMovies live at the event right now.

The most famous and controversial documentary-maker in the world is back on full throttle. He is still his usual highly manipulative, inaccurate, idealistic and romantic self, but has he has also grown and matured in many ways.

This time American director Michael Moore “invades” nine foreign countries and claims the best aspects of their living so that they can be incorporated into the United States. He goes to eight European countries and Tunisia.

In Italy, he investigates how lax working hours and long holidays increase productivity; in France, he embraces a healthy diet at school; in Portugal, he finds out that the decriminalisation of drugs has reduced drug usage; in Slovenia, he praises the education system that’s free for all, even American students; in Germany, he investigates how workers are involved in the company’s decision-making; in Norway, he envies a criminal system focused on rehabilitation instead of punishment; in Finland, he compliments an education regime with short hours, no homework and outstanding results; in Iceland, he examines how women’s rights have helped to catapult development in the country; and in Tunisia he explores the positive impact of abortion, first implemented in 1973, in the modernisation of the nation.

Moore utilises the same devices as in his earlier film: a collage of cartoons, film extracts and interviews conducted by the director himself. His primary school didactics still are pervasive, and his empiricism is highly questionable. At one point, when illustrating the amount of tax that Europeans and Americans pay, he shows a chart with no numbers attached. Such manipulative antics, in a way, legitimise the flawed and misleading campaign conducted by Moore’s biggest enemies, the American Republican party. You cannot expose lies with twisted and iffy facts and figures.

Still, Where to Invade Next is a highly effective, extremely funny and entertaining movie. Most importantly, it serves a dual purpose. Firstly, it educates uneducated Americans about the enormous shortcomings of their country. Secondly, it allows foreign audiences to reconcile with the United States by telling them that Americans too can recognise their failings.

A particularly useful fact revealed in the film: drug laws in the United States where passed at times of civil rights. According to Moore, this was a stealthy way of denying Black Americans the vote, because drug users with a criminal record permanently lose their right to vote in many American States of the Deep South, and it is mostly young Black Americans who commit these offences. With less Blacks vote, these states normally vote white and conservative, keeping the Republicans in power. He also shows that prison labour is a modern type of slavery, as prisoners earn close to nothing. Michael Moore is far more effective at exposing racism than Spike Lee.

Michael Moore’s film is also a true celebration of female achievements. He exposes how an unprecedented women’s strike in 1975 ground Iceland to a halt and changed the history of the world forever. The movie successfully delves with women power, unlike the pseudo-feminist Chi-Raq (by Spike Lee, also presented at the Berlin Film Festival this week).

Above all, Where to Invade Next is a celebration of the achievements of the European welfare state, and a denunciation of the failure of the American establishment to look after its own citizens.

Moore is more mature in his latest film. He shields himself from criticism by saying “every country has its problems, but I am here to pick the flowers, not the weeds”. He also gave up the highly vexing and melodramatic antics of confronting the enemy himself, such as when he knocks at the door of the president of the National Rifle Association in Fahrenheit 911 (2004) and leaves the picture of a girl who was murdered with such weapon.

There is nothing wrong with “picking the flowers” instead of “the weeds”. The problem with Where to Invade Next is that Moore dyes and rearranges some flowers so much that they are hardly recognisable in their local environment. For example, he fails to discuss that drug trafficking is still a crime in Portugal, and there is a huge challenge in distinguishing traffickers from users. And he portrays Tunisia as a very liberal nation and a champion of women’s rights. The Tunisian film Fatma (Khaled Ghorbal, 2001) reveals that, in reality, the country is very oppressive towards its females. In the film, a well-off woman loses her husband and sees her life collapse because simply because her spouse found out that she was violated as a child. Society shuns the rape victim instead of supporting her, the film reveals.

Michael Moore does, at least, try to address some of the problems in foreign countries. For example, he reminds the viewer of Germany’s dark past, and of Iceland’s financial meltdown and their consequences. He then reveals how these countries learnt from their mistakes, and how the United States could do the same.

Despite its shortcomings, Michael Moore’s film is a very urgent one. The screening at the Berlin Film Festival opened with a video of Michael Moore in his New York flat apologising that he was not able to travel to the event because he is still recovering from pneumonia, and his doctor forbid him to fly. There is little doubt that Moore wanted to be in Berlin for the occasion. He reveals that he was in the German capital in 1989 during the day the wall came down, and he witnessed the watershed event firsthand. He claims that he had a big epiphany then, realising that sudden change is possible, and labeling himself as “an optimist”.

In the video, Moore expresses profound respect and admiration for the Germans for welcoming the Syrian refugees into their country. This may sound naive, as the racist Pegida are out on streets and the right-wing German media are constant slamming “sex abusers” of Cologne, but – again – Michael Moore is an optimistic.

The film closes with a very powerful reflection on the American dream. Moore ponders: “it looks like the whole world is living the American dream, except us [Americans]”. He goes on to say that many of the ideals being implemented and lived across Europe where originally American values, which Americans themselves have now poisoned and corrupted.

It is impossible to dismiss the importance of the United States in the world, and many positive values imbued in the American constitution and the American dream. Likewise with Michael Moore, it is impossible to deny his importance to world cinema, despite his foolish and misleading shenanigans.

Where To Invade Next premiered in Europe at the 66th Berlin Film Festival this week. It is running out-of-competition because Festival does not allow films that have been shown elsewhere to take the much coveted Berlin Golden Bear home, and the film has already been screened around North America. Otherwise, it would have large chances of winning the competition. Michael Moore won Cannes in 2004 for Fahrenheit 911, dealing with the Iraq Invasion. It would make sense for the Berlin Film Festival to make a statement about refugees and the threat of Donald Trump by awarding Michael Moore latest film, if it was eligible to the prize.

DMovies was in loco at the Berlinale.

Watch the film trailer below:

Most psychotic people probably think that sanity is relative – and they must be right. The life of Philippe Mars (François Damiens) is tranquil and uneventful. He is a divorced and hard-working father of two always meaning good, avoiding confrontation, trying to understand and support others. Until he realises that, in all of his kindness and tolerance, he is far more insane than those he is trying to help.

News from Planet Mars is a very compelling comedy about the boundaries of goodwill, and the latent lunacy within each one of us, and how to balance kindness with idealism.

One Day his former colleague Jerôme (Vincent Macaigne) asks for shelter at his small flat after escaping a mental institution. Ironically, Jerôme had been sectioned due to a violent outburst at work when he accidentally chopped Philippe’s ear. Philippe’s daughter questions the danger and absurdity of her father’s deed: harbouring the man that he nearly killed.

Soon after, former mental patient and ardent vegetarian and animal-rights activist Chloé joins them in the household. She was invited by Jerôme, whom she met while in they were living in a mental institution. Philippe is unable to evict either one of them, and instead begins to go a little crazy himself.

Chloé pairs up with Philippe’s vegetarian son Grégoire and they decide to make a difference in the world by blowing up a newly-constructed chicken factory nearby, thereby saving the lives of thousands of chicks. They have the enthusiastic support from Jerôme and from a delirious elderly neighbour. Philippe and his daughter, the only “sane ones” come to their rescue upon finding out about their plans. On their journey, they discover that no one is entirely lucid or deranged.

German-born French filmmaker Dominik Moll concocted a fun and captivating fable of modern life. Audiences will laugh, cry and embrace their inner nutter while watching the film. They might even turn vegetarian!

News from Planet Mars premiered on February 17th as part of the 66th Berlin Film festival. It was part of the official competition, the winner will be announced on Saturday. DMovies was live at the event and believed that the film stands little chances for the main prize. Our dirty favourites were Chinese Crosscurrent (Yang Chao) and the Bosnian Death in Sarajevo (Danis Tanović).

The film is also showing at the closing gala of the Raindance Film Festival in London – click here for more information.

And watch the film trailer below:

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A person is shot every two hours and 45 minutes in Chicago. The rate is higher than the American soldiers death toll in Afghanistan and Iraq altogether. The title of Spike Lee’s new feature, Chi-raq, is a portmanteau of Chicago and Iraq, and a rapper’s nickname for the windy city. It is an artistic attempt to raise awareness of the tragedy in parts of the city, particularly the South Side.

The inspiration, though, is far older: the satirical version of Greek poet Aristophanes’ classical comedy ‘Lysistrata’. In the ancient play, Lysistrata arranges a meeting with all the local women in order to devise a plan to end the Peloponnesian War. She instructs the females to refuse sex with their husbands until a peace treaty has been signed. In Chi-raq, street wars between the rival gangs of the Trojans and the Spartans lead to the deaths of children and adolescents. Just like in the Greek classic, a group of local women led by the beautiful Lysistrata (Teyonah Parris) decides to combat the spiraling violence with feminine guile and charms. A sex strike is intended to force all the young black men, including Lysistrata’s rapper boyfriend Demetrius Dupree (Nick Cannon), to renounce their impulsive hatred.

John Cusack, about the only white character in the movie, plays a preacher who presides over the funeral of a young murder victim. He is a strange fusion of the film noir On the Waterfront (Elia Kazan, 1954) and a real preacher. Samuel L. Jackson’s character is some sort of external narrator, a hybrid of a microphone controller and Charles Dickens’ creature, says Spike Lee.

Chicago has been a gangster’s town for a long time. America’s best known gangster Capone had a leading role in the illegal activities that earned Chicago a reputation as a lawless city. During the shooting, Spike Lee met the mayor. He allowed the director to film there, despite disliking the film title. The politician stated it would hurt economic development. Lee spoke quickly pointed out that there is no such development in the South Side.

Though Spike Lee is still a necessary voice to be heard, his concerns and cries to wake up are often too factional. He claims that his film is about diversity, but there is no diversity in his crew or themes. He does not even touch on other urgent equal rights themes such as prejudice against homosexuals and other minority groups in American society.

Chi-Raq is also a pseudo-feminist movie. Lysistrata is adored for her sexual appeal, but there seems to be little more to her. Her motto “No Peace/ No Pussy” reduces the female strength to her genitalia. Ironically, the motto aligns with recent elected President Donald Trump’s declaration “Grab her by the pussy”. It exposed a social flaw based in some assumptions that are nothing but pure mysogyny.

Spike Lee is a champion in the fight against racism towards black people. His films helped to catapult black rights in the United States decades ahead of other many other countries in the world. For example, Brazil has the largest black population in the world outside Africa and yet black people have virtually no representation in cinema. Lee explains his first impression of Brazil 25 years ago: “The first time I was here in 1987, I was shocked to see that on television and magazines, there were no blacks. It’s improved somewhat. But there is a lot to do. Whoever never comes to Brazil and sees the Brazilian TV via satellite will think that all Brazilians are blond with blue eyes” (interview with the online news portal Black Women of Brazil).

Many prominent Afro-American personalities – including Lee – are now saying precisely the same about the Oscars, pointing out that in the last two years not a single person of colour has been nominated. Lee declares at last: “Academy Awards is not really the problem. The problem are the gatekeepers.” Despite their shortcomings, films like Chi-Raq are instrumental in the fight to change these injustices.

Chi-Raq is out in the UK on Friday, December 2nd. Watch the film trailer below:

Note: This article was originally published in February 2016 during La Berlinale and has now been updated for the UK release.

Boredom will inevitably creep into your marriage if you live in a three-story house alone with your spouse and your teenage daughter. The solution is to invite a number of friends, acquaintances and even strangers to move in. They come complete with a cardiac child bragging that he will die before nine, a constantly weeping immigrant who speaks broken Danish and, why not, your partner’s younger lover? Tediousness is guaranteed to be replaced by infighting and despair.

Erik (Ulrich Thomsen) lives with his wife of 25 years Ana (Trine Dyrholm) in Copenhagen. He is a architecture professor and she is a news anchor in Cophenhagen in the 1970s. It was a romantic time when commune living became commonplace across Scandinavian countries, partly as a social statement against capitalism, partly as a political statement against war and dictatorships abroad. Swedish film Together (Lukas Moodysson, 2000) portrayed a similar arrangement, and Vinterberg himself lived in a commune as a child.

The commune is soon vivid and livid, with heated arguments, crying and sadness invading the lives of the people in the house. Constant “house meetings” culminate in detailed sex revelations and mutual accusations, in scenes very similar to Vinterberg’s The Celebration (1998).

While the film is a powerful reminder of the obscene and comfort in which our society lives, and how we never bother to engage with those surrounding us, it fails in many other aspects. It is not as politically-charged and gripping as Together and it does not have the aesthetic and innovative cinema appeal of The Celebration (the first film of the groundbreaking and influential Dogme 95 Movement) .

The Commune also lacks universal appeal and currentness. The commune feels like a romantic and foolish endeavour confined to a somewhat distant past and to a remote country. While emotionally effective, the film fails to link in any way with the present situation of Syrian refugees in Europe. Last year, when the film was being made, many Europeans were opening their own large houses to those fleeing war in the Middle East. Even the Finnish Prime Minister opened his large house to Syrians. Perhaps unwillingly, Vinterberg leaves the impression that this solution is too idealistic and therefore unfeasible.

The film premiered 66th Berlinale in 2016, when this review was originally written. On Mubi in August/September 2020.

Portugal has a large imperial heritage and colonial past, and the country take enormous pride in being the first one to sail around the globe and to impose their language and religion to millions of natives. Hugo Vieira da Silva’s adaptation of the titular Joseph Conrad story is a multi-layered exercise of mimicry where ghosts of the past take over new bodies and garments. Set in the ivory-trading post on the Congo, two Portuguese colonial officials play the role of empowered men who are unable to make their land prosper. “Progress” may refer to the words in the Brazilian flag “Order and Progress”, Portugal’s largest former colony.

The shiny white Portuguese uniforms distinguish them as foreign bodies in the jungle, nicknamed mundele (ghosts) by the locals. They are supposed to get trade flowing again following the death of the former station chief. Yet the hired workers make little effort to find new reserves. While the carefree Sant’Anna seeks amusement in alcohol, music and the natives, his superior João de Mattos is struck down by malaria. The isolation in the jungle gradually fan the flames of mistrust and delusion. The film takes place in an unspecified time somewhere in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Understanding the film narrative requires some knowledge of Portuguese history. The Black characters speak Portuguese as well as their native language. D. Sebastião, for instance, the acclaimed king immortalised by the country’s greatest poet Luís de Camões in his book ‘Os Lusíadas’, appears as a Black leader who betrays his people by trading slaves for ivory.

There are also similarities with Miguel de Cervantes’s classic ‘Don Quixote’. Sant’anna stands for Sancho Panza, while João de Mattos is a Portuguese Quixote. In conclusion, the Imperialistic drive to conquer and enrich was reduced to a utopia, based on decisions made by drunkards and lascivious white men.

Black African religious rituals of Yoruba origins impose a new order and lifestyle on the Portuguese. Shamans cure jungle diseases, and mainstream science and medicine are mostly powerless in this magic environment.

An Outpost of Progress has similarities with Fitzcarraldo (Werner Herzog, 1982). Fitzcarraldo is obsessed with building an opera house in his town, and he needs to kill someone in the rubber business in order to achieve this. He then hatches an elaborate plan that calls for a particularly impressive feat: bringing a massive boat over a mountain with the help of a band of natives. In Werner’s feature men lose their fight against nature. The jungle swallows them and the boat is taken by monkeys. In Vieira’s movie, the two Portuguese officials cannot even decide on a plan. João de Mattos kills his partner in order to save on his sugar and coffee reserves. Ironically, these were Brazil’s largest exports for centuries.

Sophisticated visual effects and fascinating images mesmerised the audience in Berlin. Suddenly, An Outpost of Progress becomes a silent movie and João de Mattos and Sant’Anna turn into Laurel and Hardy. They are genius and pathetic at the same time, just like the Portuguese conquistadores.

An Outpost of Progress is part of the Forum selection in the 66th Berlinale. DMovies is live right now at the event with two journalists.

Sarajevo is at the heart of Europe, and not just geographically. The city epitomises the continent in all of its diversity and conflicts. Late American writer and filmmaker Susan Sontag claimed that the 20th century began in Sarajevo, with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferninand of Austria, and that it also ended there, with the siege of the city in the 1990s.

Oscar-winning Bosnian filmmaker Danis Tanović’s latest film Death in Sarajevo is about the fictitious build-up towards the arrival of an EU commission with several heads of state in Hotel Europa, in the Bosnian capital. Led by Hatidza (Faketa Salihbegović-Avdagić; pictured above), the employees are threatening to go on strike during the event because they have not been paid in two months. The hotel manager Omer (Izudin Bajrovic) soons finds stealthy and nefarious ways to prevent the workers’ action from taking place. Meanwhile, the journalist Vedrana (Vedrana Seksan) conducts heated political interviews at the hotel rooftop, and a VIP guest speaker (Jacques Weber) rehearses a speech about the centenary of the murder.

Death in Sarajevo is a fast-paced and catchy comedy about the absurdity of conflict – be it at war, at work or at home. It places the futility of fighting in opposition to the urgency of having dissident voices. One of Vedrana’s interviewees urges armed conflict as the solution to the country’s problem, while another one believes that it is precisely the country’s split identity that defines it. He cries out: “please protect us from uniform thinking!”

The film discusses the roots of Bosnia’s conflicts in detail. It reveals that the country has always been a showdown arena for the armed fighting between Croats and Serbs. Bosnia Herzegovina is divided into two autonomous entities: Bosnia Herzegovina and Republika Srpska, with the Serbians claiming the latter as part of their own country. It was in Srpskan city of Sebrenica that the Serbs killed more than 8,000 Bosnians, the biggest massacre in Europe since the Second World War.

Most importantly, Death in Sarajevo is a film about much-needed reconciliation. Vedrana has a very impassioned and tense interview with a Serbian nationalist, which triggers the subject of the interview to point a gun to the journalist. He is called Gavrilo Princip (Muhamed Hadžović), named after the murderer of Franz Ferdinand in 1914. For ethnic Serbians, the historical Gavrilo Princip is a national hero, while for Bosniaks (ethnic Bosnians) he is a terrorist.

Reconciliation occurs when Gavrilo and Vedrana find a middle ground and agree on a description for the controversial figure : “he was a kid, a dreamer and a romantic”, states the journalist. She also reminds the ferocious nationalist that his hero was just 19 when he carried out the assassination. If Gavrilo and Vedrana can get on, then Bosnia must be a feasible nation after all.

Death in Sarajevo was presented on February 15th at the 66th Berlinale, and it is an entry for the official competition. It is a strong contender for the much coveted Golden Bear, as the event often gives its most important award to highly politically-charged films. In 2006 the also Bosnian Grbavica (Jasmila Žbanić), which delved into the consequences of war and rape, took the accolade home. Two journalists from DMovies are now at the Berlinale bringing the event’s best and the dirtiest films firsthand to you.

Once again Gianfranco Rosi (The Boatman, 1993; Sacro GRA, 2013) investigates the reality of inhabitants of specific conflict zones. He has already gone to Varanasi, in India, Ciudad de Juarez, in Mexico, and to the outskirts of Rome. His camera searches for tales of extraordinary lives, from whores to botanics or sicarios (hitmen), as in the title of El Sicario, Room 164 (2010). This time he travelled to the island of Lampedusa, which has become a metaphor for freedom among African refugees.

In Italian, the title Fuocoammare plays with the words “ al mare” (at sea) and “amare” (to love) that unfortunately was lost in translation. It also refers to a South Italian song. It is clear, though, that the film is a love composition for the refugees. In fact, one of the doctors in charge of examining the corpses says he would never get used to seeing dead pregnant women or dead little children, despite the large number of bodies he scrutinises daily.

History is cyclic. What Fire at Sea exposes is a new type of slave ship. Those refugees come from Nigeria, Libya, Eritrea and Chad, some of them have crossed the Sahara and were antagonised by ISIS. They escape to the sea in a desperate cry for help, paying up to $1,000 for a very risky trip. It is not only the illegal aspect of the immigration that is risky, but the journey itself. Those who are at the bottom of the boat suffer dehydration and are often burnt by diesel.

Rosi has inherited the most famous trace of Italian culture, which is comedy, so the movie is not as dark as it could sound. He picks up Samuele, a twelve year-old boy, son of a fisherman, who plays the role of the documentarist, as he raises many urgent questions. The narrative flows in waves, always with humour and depth.

The director excels in cinematography, revealing the colours of night and submarine life almost like a Discovery Channel show. Both sea and night hide their beauty and creatures. One has to find a way to portray it accurately, revealing the deep truth. The darting editing by Jacopo Quadri, a regular collaborator, alternates between emotionally-laden and light-hearted takes.

A permanent state of emergency makes those framed individuals a subject too large to disregard. Samuele has a “lazy eye” and is obliged to use a blindfold. But Europe cannot turn a blind eye to African refugees anymore. Historical mistakes can be very expensive.

Watch Fire at Sea below:

Blue is the colour of peace and also the colour of sadness. Chinese film Crosscurrent, which premiered on February 15th at the Berlin Film Festival is overwhelmingly blue, in both the connotative and the denotative sense of the word. Everything in the movie is warmly wrapped in this strangely crisp colour. Various shades of the colour from the persistent twilight, a boat’s spotlight or the vivid waters of the river Yangtze illuminate the way. The film is strangely slow, somber and melancholic, just like the colour blue.

Crosscurrent tells the story of young captain Gao Chun (Qin Hao), who steers his boat overloaded with fish up the Yangtze river. He is been in charge of delivering the commercial cargo in exchange for for a reasonable sum of money. Along his journey, he meets the magic figure of a woman over and over, and she seems to become younger the closer he gets to the source of the river. He also encounters an eerie landscape almost invariably misty, abandoned and derelict. It is not clear whether the fog is natural or a byproduct of pollution. He visits abandoned houses, temples and even a city that was swallowed by the waters of the Yangtze, only to be returned to its population barren and covered in mud.

Chun’s overloaded boat travelling contraflow is an allegory of capitalistic development in China. The country is growing quicker than it can take, and it is moving in a direction away from its history, towards rushed, ugly and dirty industrialisation. As Chun passes the Three Gorges Dam, we are gently reminded that man-made wonders can often overtake nature in a bizarre and irreversible way.

The search for the woman is equivalent to the search for Chinese history and identity, which becomes increasingly diluted and less recognisable as the waters of the Yangtze inundate the country, stripping it from its beautiful past and poetry.

The cinematography of Crosscurrent is breathtaking, just like the pollution that is taking over China. It is also one of the most beautiful and spectacular films in the history of cinema, a true masterpiece. Each take in the film is carefully balanced and crafted, like a Michelangelo painting. The blue fog gives it an ethereal quality, almost detached from reality, not dissimilar to Stalker (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1979). The Russian masterpiece was filmed in just a few days in two deserted hydro power plants on the Jägala river in the countryside of the former Soviet Republic of Estonia.

Crosscurrent is not the first film to present rushed development in the Yangtze River and the The Gorges Dam in a lyrical and visually stunning way. Jia Zhangke made a comparable achievement in 2006 with Still Life, albeit not as impressive.

Despite its nostalgic and stoic tone, Crosscurrent is a film about reconciliation with irreversible changes. Upon reaching the source of the Yangtze, Chun realises that time cannot be turned around. There is no doubt that the new Yangtze is oddly fascinating – perhaps because it is so dirty, precarious and nostalgic.

Chao’s film is a very strong contender for the Golden Bear, which would make it the third Chinese film to do so in less than 10 years. The others were Tuya’s Marriage (Wang Quan’an, 2007) and Black Coal, Thin Ice (Diao Yinan, 2014). DMovies is present and the 66th Berlinale right now bringing the dirtiest movies from the Festival. The winners will be announced on Saturday, February 20th,