Marina Abramovic takes a trip through the melting pot of Brazilian religions, faiths, cults and mysticism. She travels to remote corners of the country and deeply engages with very obscure and unusual rituals. Despite speaking very little Portuguese, Marina looks very much at home and blends in extremely well. She opens the film saying: “Shaman Denise told me that I don’t come from anywhere”, which might explain why she’s so easily adaptable. “We are all galactic”, she completes. The timing of the film premiere in London is very ironic: her ideas wouldn’t fit in very well with Theresa May’s toxic “citizen of nowhere” remarks last week.

The artist is keen to push both mental and physical limits. She visits an evangelical group that promotes healing through medical practices of highly questinable medical efficacy. The preachers perform cure through pain and faith, and methods include scratching the blade of a knife on a man’s eye, or making an incision in the belly of a standing woman, sticking two fingers inside, twisting them and then stitching the wound – all clearly documented with the camera. Marina does not slam the procedures, instead focusing on the their meditative powers, often dismissed by science and intellectuals as charlatanism.

Marina’s supple spirituality respectfully morphs and adapts into the various environments she visits. She is more than an enthusiastic observer, and instead she deep dives into some of the most powerful rituals, including a mud and herbal cleansing in the nude in a forest near Curitiba, in the South of Brazil. She also tries the hallucinogenic drug Ayahuasca twice, and takes a dangerous and scary trip into the unknown. She vomits, urinates, defecates, writhes and rolls on the floor, as do most people who experiment with the drug. The Peruvian film Icaros: A Vision (Leonor Caraballo/ Matteo Norzi, 2016) also provides some very useful insight into the use of ayahuasca in other parts of South America – click here in order to read or review.

The city of Salvador is perhaps Marina’s most important destination. There she meets a 110-year-old mãe-de-santo (a priestess of Candomblé), who explains to her the secret of longevity. She tries the local food and learns about the connection between what you ingest, your energy and your “horniness”. She also visits the Catholic Bonfim Church. She likes to pick up elements of spirituality in religion, but tends to dismiss the religious establishment as a whole.

Marina is so energetic and dynamic that at times it feels like she is both behind and in front of the camera, while in reality the film was directed by Brazilian filmmaker Marco Del Fiol. The relatively unknown helmer captures some impressive images where Marina interacts with nature in a meditative state, in a waterfall, in the top of a mountain, in the tropical savannah (cerrado) and in leafy forests in Southern Brazil.

The film ends with an altruistic gesture. Marina returns what Brazil gave to her by offering a performance in the city of São Paulo. Cities and noisy and polluted, and therefore people need art in order to get by, she expĺains the rationale behind her gift. For her, nature is complete, and so art is redundant in environment such as the forest and savannah.

Space in Between – Marina Abramovic in Brazil showed as part of the BFI London Film Festival in October. You can purchase it for VoD by clicking here.

Below is the film trailer:

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Last May a big brown hairy monster invaded the red carpet in Cannes – that was a marketing campaign for the German comedy Toni Erdmann, a critic’s favourite at the Festival. Since then the film has sparked audience’s curiosity all over the world. It is not often that a film lifts the mood at such a large event. The same is likely to happen at the BFI London Film Festival this week.

Austrian actor Peter Simonichek plays Winfried, a lonely and pathetic old man who is visited only by his cleaner and the postman. It seems the film will take the same road as Helmut Berger, Actor (Andreas Horvath, 2016), revealing a person with very conflictory relations, except that this time it is a fictionalised character. The name Toni Erdmann is a fabrication of Winfried that comes to life whenever he wants to infiltrate the routine of his only daughter Ines (Sandra Hüller). He wears a funny wig and keeps removing his dentures from his mouth. He is unable to reveal his real identity to her daughter’s friends and colleagues at work. She is a corporate German strategist living in Bucharest.

Although Winfried is perfectly conscious that his daughter avoids him, he decides to pack his things and show up out without warning at her work abroad. His dog has passed away and he has no other plans for the month other than follow his daughter into every single activity she is involved. This includes receptions at five-star hotels, corporate meetings and night clubs.

His attempt to reconnect with his daughter culminates in ludicruous and amusing situations. In addition to the comic tone, the film also has at least other two underlying messages. One is the globalisation management and its consequences to countries such as Germany and Romania. Then there is contrast between Ines’s working environment and the surrounding poverty. This is evident when Ines exits the skyscraper where she works and drives to a far location where the Romanian labour force is concentrated.

The film also highlights the contrast between two completely opposite life choices. Winfried hasn’t grown up. At the beginning of the movie kids surrounds him. They are all dressed up like mummies or ghosts and have a heavy black and white make up. There is no distinction between the kids and the main character. He is a man with no ambitions, according to Ines, a go-with-the-flow type. At the other end, stands his daughter. She does everything in order to please her clients, sacrificing her private life to a point that even sex is mechanic.

The film doesn’t propose a middle path, but it is clear that there is something wrong with both lifestyles. Not everything is black and white.

In the marketing clip with the big brown hairy monster, there is a woman who says “he is beautiful”. But beauty, of course, is in the eye of the beholder. just click here in order to watch the clip.

This film played at the BFI London Film Festival in 2016, when this piece was originally written. It also played in cinemas. It i out on Mubi on Sunday, June 18th (2022). Also available on other VoD platforms,

The cult movie Blue Velvet (David Lynch) celebrates its 30th anniversary this year. In 1985, Lynch invited Peter Braatz, a young German filmmaker, to come to the set and produce a documentary about it. Braatz registered on his Super 8 various interviews with the cast – Laura Dern, Dennis Hopper, Isabella Rossellini, Kyle MacLashlan, Dean Stockwell – as well as recorded hours of footage and shot many pictures. Blue Velvet Revisited was kept hidden for all those years. Now it mysteriously comes to life just like a long-forgotten dream.

Blue Velvet Revisited is a movie for Lynch’s fans. It is hard to appreciate it if you have not seen the original, otherwise it remains intangible. But for those who connect with Lynchian enigmatic narrative, the documentary ritualises the filmmaker’s working style. Dennis Hopper says that the film reflects “living on the edge of subconscious. People have those subconscious feelings […]. In our own dream those things exist. In reality too, but hopefully we don’t see them. Lynch is wonderfully naive”. In fact, Hopper had a profound understanding of his character Frank. He felt empathy for him immediately after reading the script, and insisted in having the part. Eventually, Lynch said yes to Hopper, though he wasn’t his first choice.

The documentary attempts to recreate Lynch’s non-linear narrative. It shows Lynch’s drawings and mixes it with images of the crew building the set. The idea of the film came from a song and so the sound engineer worked very close to Lynch. They twisted and twerked the film in the editing room.

The interviews with Lynch reveal all sorts of ideas that became his obsession in his further movies and artwork. Primarily, Lynch wanted to be a painter. This is what distinguishes him from other North-American filmmakers of the ’80s, such as Scorsese, Coppola and De Palma, who tend to be less attached to other media. In reality, Blue Velvet is a kinaesthetic experience. The symbol of the ear crawling with ants is a door to another world. Lynch explains that “beneath the appearance many strange things can happen”.

Lynch sneaks into a dark world with no fear and Blue Velvet Revisited is a window crack into Lynch’s creativity. His comfort with the hidden symbols comes from his habit of meditating. In 1986 David already interrupted the shootings for his meditation exercises. In 2006 he wrote the book Catching The Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness and Creativity. No wonder Blue Velvet was so effective.

Braatz portrays bit by bit how Lynch made the movie he dreamed of. It was the first time Lynch had total control of the final cut, and some money to do it (Dino De Laurentiis signed the executive production). He shared his freedom with his actors and crew, so also enjoyed a lot of liberty.

The doc also unearths a visionary aspect of Lynch’s work: his desire to work with computers in cinema. He said he admired technology because it made films faster and more effective. Braatz was surprised by this revelation, since almost no filmmaker at that time shared Lynch’s ideas. His plan came to reality with Inland Empire (2006), Lynch’s first film to have been shot entirely in standard definition digital video.

Blue Velvet Revisited is showing at BFI London Film Festival on October 7th and 8th. Watch the film trailer below and brab your ticket here:

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It’s not often a movie opens with a self-defense statement: “the pixelization you will experience during this film is totally normal. It’s not a commentary on censorship. We repeat: it’s not a commentary on censorship”. It’s not often you will watch a film from Saubi Arabia, either, where notions of “normality” are wildly different from the rest of the world. Also, it’s not clear who the “we” in the strange claim is: the filmmakers or the government censors. The fact that there is no clear pixelisation throughout in the film just adds to the ambiguity of the statement. Perhaps they meant airbrushing. Or maybe it’s coded message for locals? This is not the only ambiguous aspect of the movie.

Barakah meets Barakah is a romantic comedy dealing with a number of taboos in Saudi Arabia, such as empowered women, the influence of Western culture (some Islamic scholars describe it as “Westoxification”) and even cross-dressing. Despite the potential inflammatory topics, the pace is very Bollywodian, the acting is flat and puerile, and the plot is mostly predictable. And of course there is no hot and sweaty action. This will come as a disappointment to Western audiences used to more audacious content and format, but could be highly refreashing to Saudis more used to very strict censors.

The cinema of Saudi Arabia is a very small industry that only produces a handful of feature films and documentaries each year. On the other hand, the population is constantly bombarded with Bollywood. According to a newspaper from the Emirates, 35 channels broadcast Indian content in the region, and it is a safe assumption that most of them reach Saudi Arabia. This explains the innocuous language of the movie, which will probably appeal to locals. Cinema in the style John Waters or Ulrich Seidl wouldn’t go down very well.

The film tells the story of municipal agent Barakah (Hisham Fageeh), whose job is to ensure that local businesses adhere to the strict Saudi law. He develops a friendship and an attraction for Bibi (Fatima Albanawi), a fashionable and rebellious Instagram celebrity. This could be easily interpreted as a propaganda piece: Barakah represents the stern government with a beautiful heart inside. But the film also has its merits.

There are positive messages throughout, as when in Barakah questions Bibi’s adoptive mother about her husband’s abusive behaviour. Cross-dressing for both men and women – while not for sexual fulfillment – is a recurring theme throughout the movie. The great Egyptian singer Umm Kulthum is also mentioned in the film, and her images even appear on television. Perhaps not coincidentally, Kulthum was also a cross-dresser in her young years. Of course she is far from the only diva that cross-dressed in the Arab world – you might remember the Jacko Wacko episode in 2006.

The most provocative moment in the film happens when Bibi dons a huge moustache and performs the ultimate subversive act for a female in Saudi Arabia. Except that this wouldn’t be subversive in any other nation in the world. You can probably work out what we mean.

There are other subtle yet revealing aspects to the film. Photographs from the country more progressive past are to be seen occasionally in the movie, and Barakah’s father even expresses nostalgia and longing for such distant and liberal past. Barakah and Bibi talk about art being used to fight consumerism and materialism. There is laso Shakespeare, Tchaikovski and even electronic beats. It would be unfair to describe the film as a circumscribed propaganda piece. There are certainly some unusual flavours in there.

On the other hand, Barakah meets Barakah has no concern with realism, which would almost certainly equate with censorship. Yet it provides foreign audiences with an unusual – if highly romanticised – glimpse into one of the most hermetically closed societies in the world. Tourist visas are still still rarely issued to foreigners, and Saudi Arabia remains enygmatic and elusive to the rest of the world. Barakah meets Barakah provides some insight into the arid and barren urban landscapes, and the few entertainment options for the locals.

Barakah Meets Barakah is showing as part of the BFI London Film Festival, which is taking place right now – just click here for more information about the event.

You can also watch the film trailer below:

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This sounds like a very promising horror movie loaded with social commentary. Mattie Do is the first female director of a Lao feature film. Her debut Chanthaly is also the first horror film written and directed entirely in Laos. In her second feature Dearest Sister, Do employs horror to comment on gender roles, the allure of material wealth, family allegiances and colonial relations with Europe, in a very ambitious project for her country’s cinema.

A countryside girl moves to the city in order to live as her rich cousin’s companion. Her cousin is quickly losing her sight and occasionally seeing very apparitions. She has a doting Estonian husband who will do everything in his power to save her vision, but his attitude towards the local culture is often arrogant and ambivalent. In fact, most characters in the movie seem to be morally-corrupted and easily engage in revengeful acts and petty money feuds. It remains to be seen whether the protagonist can remain integral and resist the broken system, particularly once very unusual spirits step into the picture.

Dearest Sister has most of the ingredients of an effective horror movie: creepy ghosts, violence, sex and punishment for betrayal or corrupt behaviour. The problem is that it doesn’t gel together. The script is too complex and disjointed, and it’s very difficult to follow the various layers of the plot. Sometimes it borders the ludicruous, with ghosts of yet-to-die people whispering winning lottery numbers. Also, the lukewarm acting makes the 100-minute experience a little laborious.

The somber, languid and taut pace films is enjoyable, even if it’s easy to get lost sometimes. There is little gore and climaxing in movie, which may come as a disappointment to more hardcore horror fans. Dearest Sister will not make you jump from your seat like the Hong Kong horror The Eye (Pang Brothers, 2002) – also about a blind girl who sees ghosts.

Dearest Sister is showing as part of the BFI London Film festival starting this week – click here for more information about the event. If you are looking for a more effective and nail-biting horror we recommend the Japanese Creepy (Kiyoshi Kurosawa), or for an emotional trip through the world spirits and occultism you should watch the Irish A Dark Song (Liam Gavin). Both films are part of the Festival, just click on the titles in order to accede to our exclusive reviews.

You can watch the trailer of Dearest Sister here:

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The social outcast usually attracts scriptwriters. It is difficult, though, to find a movie in which they receive a non-judgemental treatment. The Bacchus Lady is an unusual story about sex and death in South Korea – a deeply patriarchal society. The main character is an older sex worker who meets a missing boy at her doctor’s office. She came to check if she has contracted gonorrhea; and the boy came with his mother from Philippines. The mother claims the father is the doctor, but he denies. During commotion created by the mother and the father, the boy is left alone. The Bacchus Lady (whose real name is So-young, and is played by Youn Yuh-jung) then takes the foreign kid to her house.

The problem is that she doesn’t have time to look after the child. She is still an active woman even at her age. So she is forced to leave the kid with her neighbours – a transsexual prostitute and a young man with a prosthetic leg. Korean director and scriptwriter E J-yong created an unusual nest in a very twisted environment.

The Bacchus Lady has some similarities with the Brazilian movie Central Station (Walter Salles, 1998). In both movies, a kid and an older woman are united in the search for the boy’s father. In Central Station, the bitter schoolteacher Dora (Fernanda Montenegro) writes letters to illiterate people and pockets their money without posting the envelopes. In The Bacchus Lady, So-young pockets the money from the clients she meets in a public park. She offers them bottles of Bacchus energy drink, which is a coded invitation for a trip to a cheap hotel.

There is a significant difference between the two movies though. In the Brazilian one, woman and kid share the same culture and language, so the story is much more centred in the boy and in his quest for the father. In the Korean picture, the boy doesn’t speak Korean, so we know very little about him. He enters the lady’s life and audience peeks through this door into her current and past life.

South Korea is said to be a sexually-conservative society, though some aspects are changing. Most South Koreans have sex before marriage; South Korea has one of the largest prostitution industries in the world, and females are increasingly objectified. Even sexually-active women need to appear inexperienced and virginal to their partners. In fact, the sluts here doesn’t dress-up like hookers. The film portrays some funny scenes to exemplify this contrast.

The narrative has two strands: one is the boy’s desire to reunite mother and father and the other is So-young relations. She keeps meeting old lovers, some of them very sick. Often they are unable to make love, so their requests are very unorthodox. The film proposes a new understanding of the dynamics and values of a deviant subculture. They are not seen as victims. Instead they build an engaging picture of the lonely lives in a big city.

The Bacchus Lady showed in the 60th BFI London Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. It shows again at the London Korean Film Festival in November 2018.