Month: May 2019

John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum

Posted on by victorfraga

What will it take to kill John Wick? In the first instalment of the franchise, the eponymous assassin survived stabbings and shootings aplenty to avenge his puppy’s murder, and in the second he displayed an immunity to both vehicular homicide and home-flattening explosions. In John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum, John withstands all of that and then some, including one moment that may well have some viewers, like a bewildered Austin Powers, asking of Mr Wick “Why won’t you die?”

The answer to John Wick’s indestructability lies in two words, fearfully whispered by those aware of his impossible exploits: Baba Yaga. John Wick isn’t a mortal man. He is a myth, a spectre, a supernatural being – the Boogeyman. Of course he can’t die. The John Wick films aren’t depictions of reality, nor are they overly concerned with stakes or tension. They’re folktales, legends, awe-inspiring accounts of impossible odds overcome. And just as legends are told and retold and retold again, each retelling more embellished than the last, Parabellum is a more elaborate and excessive retelling of its predecessors.

It picks up where Chapter 2 left off, John (Keanu Reeves) having been declared excommunicated by the clandestine High Table for killing a crime lord in cold blood on inviolable grounds. John’s new status means every assassin under the sun (which appears to be everyone and their dog) is gunning for him, forcing John to seek the help of former friends and mentors as he evades his would-be killers. Essentially, Parabellum takes the extended montage from Chapter 2, in which John fights off numerous assassins one after another, including a sharp-suited sumo and a deadly violinist, and extends it into a full narrative.

There’s nothing quite as fun in Parabellum as John Wick and Common’s steely Cassian sneakily shooting at each other in a crowded subway station, but Kevlar-vested Belgian Malinois and runaway horseplay come a close second, even if the latter ends before reaching full gallop. An early knife-fight stands out as the most enjoyably visceral (and violent) sequence, while the Skyfall-inspired third act climax appropriately retreads Chapter 2’s hall of mirrors sequence with added embellishments, including a cameo by Yayan Ruhian and self-aware asides.

As with Jonathan Sela’s work on Chapter 1 and his own work on Chapter 2, cinematographer Dan Laustsen shoots much of the action from in front of Keanu Reeves, particularly in Parabellum’s extended shootouts. It’s the same technique Gilbert Hubbs applied when shooting Enter the Dragon (Robert Clouse, 1973)’s cave sequence, disposable baddies jumping into frame before being dispatched immediately by a bare-chested Bruce Lee. The decision serves to keep focus on Wick and, as the audience observes his already inconceivable kill-count increase, enhances his mythical status.

For all his indestructability, there is perhaps one thing that could kill John Wick: with a fourth film already in development, the myth of John Wick could well turn into an eye-rolling tall tale if overtold. Some folktales never lose their mystique, even after countless retellings, but many do; the more a child hears stories of the Boogeyman, the more they learn about him, the more the Boogeyman’s power fades. That’s what it will take to kill John Wick – an audience who has heard the same story too many times.

John Wick 3 is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, May 24th.

The Traitor (Il Traditore)

Posted on by victorfraga

This is the real – if highly romanticised – story of the very first man to grass on the almighty Sicilian mafia, the infamous Cosa Nostra. The story starts in 1980. Fifty-one-year-old Tommaso Buscetta (Pierfrancesco Favino) is a member of the organisation to which swore allegiance as a teenager. However, violence has now spiralled out of control and Don Masino (his nickname in the criminal world) now fears for his life. He departs, leaving behind a wife and several children. He flees to Rio de Janeiro under a different name, where he starts a new life with a Brazilian woman, fathering yet more children. Very much a la Ronnie Biggs.

He’s eventually arrested. The Brazilian authorities carry out the most persuasive torture session I have ever witnessed (involving his Brazilian wife and a helicopter). Don Masimo is extradited to Italy. Back in home nation, Judge Falcone (Fasuto Russo Alesi) questions him. At first, Don Masino refuses to cooperate, but the two men gradually develop a trust relationship. Falcone convinces Masino that the “honour” preached by Cosa Nostra is anything but honourable. Murder is widespread, and the mafia no longer smuggle cigarettes but the highly addictive heroin instead. At one point, Buscetta begins to opens up, revealing the inner workings of the criminal organisation and the names of its member. These conversations serve as the moral compass of both the film and Italy as a whole. Top-ranking criminals are sentenced to life in prison, while Buscetta is handed a sentence of just three years in exchange for his plea bargain.

Upon completing his sentence, Buscetta moves to the US with his Brazilian wife and children under police protection, but eventually returns to Italy in order to take care of some unfinished business. Two of Masino’s Italian children are murdered, and so is Judge Falcone. Buscetta seeks revenge for these deaths, but not with a gun. He opts to use the legal route instead. He wished to confront his previous associates at court.

The courtroom scenes are magnificently chaotic, in good Italian style. Defendants scream from behind bars, one of them undresses, another one sews his lips in protest. The layout looks like a Roman arena. Everyone interrupts everyone. A defendant on the dock threatens both Masino and the judge. The judge frantically gesticulates with his hands. Such display of emotions would be unthinkable in a British courtroom. This is the trial from hell.

In the film’s most important sequence, Masino confronts his nemesis Toto Riina (Cali Nicola). Masino describes his numerous and gruesome crimes. Toto refuses to answer because Masino “lacks morals”, having been married three times and with eight children. Masino and Riina represent two very different pillars of toxic masculinity. Masino is the unabashed womaniser who doesn’t kill. Riina is the serial murderer who’s faithful to his wife. Our allegiance remains with Masino, who’s portrayed as a very likeable man.

The photography of The Traitor is extremely gloomy, emphasising the murky nature of organised crime. A large number of sequences are filmed at dusk, and there is very little artificial lights. Often only the profiles and the shadows of the characters are discernible. The violent is never too graphic, and the blood red colour is nowhere to be seen.

Yet The Traitor is way too long and convoluted at 146 minutes. Those familiar with the history of Tommaso Buscetta/ Don Mascino might fight the story very engaging enough, but I found the avalanche of characters and subplots a little tedious and exasperating. Bellocchio tried to pack too much material in. Perhaps the film would have been far more effective had the director focused on a specific chapter of the supergrass’s life, such as his interactions with Judge Falcone.

Another problem is that women are entirely secondary in this blatantly male world. They serve to satisfy the sexual urges of Buscetta and other men. And to reproduce. The director does not seem too interested in other functions. The female characters are left in the background, like an object, like an integral part of the mise-en-scene. I wish that Bellocchio had investigated their emotional and moral complexity in more detail.

The Traitor showed in competition at the 72nd Cannes International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. On Sky Cinema and NOW on Wednesday, April 14th (2021). On Mubi and also on Amazon Prime in April 2023.

It Must be Heaven

Posted on by victorfraga

Take political satire and blend it with a twist of deadpan, a dash of comedy of errors, a little bit of Rowan Atkinson’s Mr Bean and Buster Keaton. Now stir in some drops of French pomp and American culture. And set it on fire with a statement about Palestinian independence. Like a an exotic absinthe drink. Sounds strange? Well, that’s because it is. It Must Be Heaven is an intoxicating cinematic cocktail. Exquisite and dirtylicious.

This is also a highly personal endeavour. The helmer Elia Suleiman plays himself. He’s almost completely silent (bar a few sentences in the final third of the movie), with a hat permanently glued to his head. He’s mostly smiley and avuncular. His exaggerated facial expressions change abruptly, a lot like Rowan Atkinson’s iconic character. Minus the canned laughter and the slapstick. Unlike the heavy-handed British personage, Elia is a very skilled man who knows exactly what he’s doing.

It all starts in Palestine. Elia’s uneventful life consists mostly with awkward interactions with his neighbours, including a trespasser who constantly sneaks into his garden in order to steal oranges from Elia’s tree. One day, Elia embarks on an aeroplane to Paris. The Louvre and Notre-Dame (before the fire, with its spire and roof still intact) have been deserted. Silence reigns. The French capital is virtually a ghost town. Perhaps this is a statement about feelings of solitude and anonymity in the City of Light. Elia visits a film producer, but his film script is promptly dismissed. “This is no good because it’s not Palestinian enough, it could be anywhere in the world”, he tells Elia.

Elia flies to New York in the final third of the movie. The city is far more vibrant. The director-writer-star drives across Manhattan Bridge on a cab. He talks to the driver. This is where he opens his mouth for the very first time. The cabbie is elated upon finding out that Elia is a Palestinian, and that he comes from Nazareth, “just like Jesus Christ”. Elia bumps into a grudging Gael Garcia Bernal (playing himself), who complains about being asked to make a film about the Spanish conquistador Hernan Cortes in English. Bernal notes that Elia “makes funny films”, and that he’s “the perfect stranger”. This is very clever self-deprecation. This wonderfully wacky comedy is very strange. And a foreigner is a stranger. Elia is a zany outsider. A strange stranger.

The narrative devices of It Must Be Heaven are very unconventional. There is no explanation as to why the events take place. Bizarre characters suddenly pop into the screen, such as thugs running up the street, uniformed cops moving in synchronised fashion. A little birdie walks onto Elia’s keyboard as he attempts to work. He tries it again and again as Elia repeatedly shoves it away. A little trinket of a sequence. Urgent in its simplicity.

The soundtrack is sparse and intense. Nina Simone’s I Put a Spell on You is heard in Paris, as a group of impressively dressed females walks past in slow motion. Leonard Cohen’s Darkness is played in New York as a succession of unconnected events takes place. There are also a couple of songs in Arabic, including one in the final credits (which gave me the goosebumps; I’m desperately seeking the name of the artist and the tune).

The film is dedicated to Palestine, in memory of the director’s parents and of late British art critic John Berger. Elia also clarifies: “All nations drink in order to forget, except us Palestinians who drink in order to remember”. You will understand what he means in the very end of the movie, in a dazzling beautiful and energetic sequence.

It Must Be Heaven is showed in competition at the 72nd Cannes International Film Festival (in 2019), when this piece was originally written. This French Palestinian production would make the perfect companion to Nadav Lapid’s French Israeli Synonyms, which won the Berlinale earlier in the same year. Both films use an absurdist tone in order to comment on the Israeli occupation of Palestine and mock notions of national identity. It would be very interesting if It Must Be Heaven won the Palme d’Or. It would outrage the Israeli government and send a very strong, unequivocal political message across the globe.

It is out in cinemas on Friday, June 18th. On BFI Player in May, 2023.

Once in Trubchevsk (Odnazhdy v Trubchevske)

Posted on by victorfraga

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM CANNES

The town of Trubchevsk is located in the Bryansk Oblast of Russia, not far from the Ukrainian border. Life is quite uneventful for a lorry driver (Egor Barinov), his wife Tamara (Maria Semyonova) and their teenage son Vytia. Tamara does the housework, Vytia plays videogames and the lorry driver (his name is never revealed) provides for the family with his vehicle. Until he starts seeing a woman called Anna (Kristina Shnaider), whom he picks up daily somewhere along the motorway.

Their affair isn’t exceptionally torrid, at least not if you are familiar with Almodovar’s or Francois Ozon’s filmography. Yet the mere existence of an extramarital relation is enough to rock the quiet little town. Anna too has a family, including a child daughter. Her husband Yura (Yury Kisylyov) is devastated upon finding out about her dalliance. He thought that she was in Moscow selling the scarves and dresses that she knits. He begs her to stay, but she eventually moves in with the lorry. Anna’s mother-in-law disseminates the news, which spread like wildfire and quickly reach Tamara. The lorry driver begs his wife not to leave him, and begins to lead a double life with both women. But that isn’t sustainable, and sooner or later he will have to make a decision.

Anna and Tamara are far more liberated than the lorry driver and Yura. The women are prepared to start a new life, while the men are profoundly scared of change, and of making difficult decisions. Perhaps this a subtle feminist statement, in a country where feminist memes can land you in jail, but not domestic violence. Or perhaps not. Maybe the females too could should abide to the long-established social norms. The writing is on the wall: don’t go chasing waterfalls, stick to the river and the lakes you’re used to.

The film takes place during the celebrations of the 75th anniversary of the liberation of the Bryansk Oblast from the Nazis at the end of WW2. The town is vibrant with festivities. Ultimately, this is a film about the refusal to move on. Russia is a very conservative society, not very good at embracing change. And very nostalgic about the past. The country repudiates sudden and abrupt change, both within the heart of the family and the political establishment.

There are a couple of interesting moments in the movie. They include Anna doing a sexy dance for the lorry driver to the sound of Flamenco-sounding Russian pop music, and an adorable old lady reminiscing about WW2, when she sheltered and saved a partisan from an almost certain death in the hands of the Germans. Overall, however, Once in Trubchevsky is mostly languid and plain.

Once in Trubchevsk is showing in the 72nd Cannes International Film Festival as part of the Un Certain Regard section. The director introduced the film describing the selection of her movie as “a miracle”. Which is probably true for a Russian female director, in a country where the film industry is largely dominated by male directors. I don’t recall seeing a Russian film made by a female director in a large European film festival. The film in itself, however, isn’t particularly miraculous. Unlikely to make it beyond the festival circuit.

Matthias and Maxime (Matthias et Maxime)

Posted on by victorfraga

The young Matthias (Gabriel D’Almeida Freitas) and Maxime (Xavier Dolan) are childhood friends living in a small Quebecois town. One day they are asked to share a kiss for a friend’s college project. It’s an “impressionist-expressionistic” short movie with a duration of just one minute. Yet this kiss – which us in the audience never see – has a major impact on their lives.

Both Matthias and Maxime are “perfectly” heterosexual on the surface. Matthias has a beautiful girlfriend. He frequents a strip joint. Both meet girls in the local bar and mingle in a testosterone-fuelled environment. Their friends are the boisterous straight men in their early twenties. They drink beer, listen to loud music and the car, play French scrabble and enjoy prancing around. The director is in reality 30 years of age, but his baby face enables him to play a much younger character.

Matthias has a corporate job. He befriends a foreign worker called McAfee (Harris Dickinson). McAfee is the impersonation of macho cliches, such as overconfidence, a vaguely disrespectful attitude towards women and a unease at females who are vaguely vocal and independent. It’s amusing to see the British actor in a role so different to the two characters that catapulted him to fame: the gay protagonist of both Beach Rats (Eliza Hittman, 2017) and Postcards from London (Steve McLean, 2018).

Gradually, questions are raised about Matthias’s and Maxime’s sexuality. There is no raging homophobia, but instead a certain inquisitiveness that Matt finds particularly disturbing. He thinks that his girlfriend suspects something. Are people subtly reprehending him for the little video, or is Matt himself suppressing his very own sexuality? His behaviour suggests that his does not know the answer.

Maxime has a dysfunctional relationship with his chain-smoking, manipulative and abusive mother, whom he supports financially. He has a huge birth mark on his face, which he’s very uncomfortable with (a mirror sequence reveals that he dreams of a spotless face). And he’s about to move to Australia in just a few days. The question as to whether the two childhood friends share a romantic connection will have to be addressed before Maxime leaves. The answer comes in the final third of the movie, and it’s worthwhile waiting for it.

The movie’s soundtrack is likely to please gay and straight men and women of all ages. Pop hits like the Pet Shop Boys’ You Were Always on My Mind and Britney Spears’s Work Bitch are played in crucial moments. Cinematographer Andre Turpin also delivers a decent job. A dance sequence blending time lapse with slow motion is particularly beautiful. An embrace filmed through the hole of a curtain while the rain falls outside is both engrossing and intriguing.

Xavier Dolan is already on his eighth feature as a director as 14th as an actor (that’s excluding short films and television work. Quite impressive for someone with just 30 years of age. Dolan is openly gay, and I would hazard a guess that the film contains many autobiographical elements. The director, however, refuses the LGBT label, stating during the press conference that “this film is not gay, it’s life”.

Dolan’s latest film, however, isn’t his best. It’s a little too long at two hours, and little happens in the first half. Plus many of the subplots (such as Maxime’s dysfunctional relationship with his mother, and a fight that Matt picks up during a party) neither come full circle nor seem entirely relevant to the story. Matthias and Maxime has colour and flare, and a few good moments, but overall it isn’t a profoundly moving film that will stay with you for a long time.

Matthias and Maxime showed in competition at the 72nd Cannes International Film, when this piece was originally written. It premiered in the UK in October, as part of the BFI London Film Festival. On Mubi is August/September.

Ice on Fire

Posted on by victorfraga

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM CANNES

Our planet is getting warmer. The amount of carbon dioxide (CO2) in our atmosphere grew from 80 ppm (parts per million) in pre-industrial times (about 200 years ago) to more than 400 ppm at present. In a few decades, it could reach 700 ppm, causing sea levels to rise more than 80 metres. And it isn’t just carbon dioxide that’s threatening us. The methane levels are also alarmingly high. Ice on Fire investigates the impact of such changes on our planet and reveals some very peculiar initiatives created in order to mitigate and even to fix the dangerous phenomena.

The biggest issue that we’re facing right now is that we are releasing far more CO2 into the atmosphere than “sequestering” it into solid materials (a scientific term meaning “removing from the atmosphere”). The fossil fuels are largely to blame, as is deforestation. The Arctic suffers the most as temperatures rise three time faster than elsewhere, killing off the jet streams (air currents) that keep the rest of the planet nice and cool.

Methane is being leaked largely due to coalbed gas extraction, the Four Corners region of the US being a notorious hot spot. In the second half of the movie, two scientists drill a hole in the Alaskan permafrost allowing methane (which is a flammable gas) to flow into the air. They then proceed to light it, creating the titular fire of ice. This lethal combination of CO2 and methane in our atmosphere could lead to a temperature rise of up to 2C as early as 2050, with catastrophic consequences for the Earth and its living creatures.

Fortunately for us, a lot of clever scientists and entrepreneurs are already taking action in order to avoid the imminent tragedy. In the US, giant wind turbines are sequestering CO2 from the atmosphere and turning it into rocks, and the project in now being rolled out in Iceland. A major carbon immobilisation spot has been set up in the Orkney Islands of Scotland, where underwater propellers do the dirty work. We also learn that redwood trees and a large seaweed known as kelp are also very good for sequestration, and there are a few initiatives aiming to disseminate these terrestrial and aquatic plants.

Some impressive drone and time lapse images of the Arctic, Iceland, the Orkney Islands and various parts of the US combined and a subtle humming score in order to provide a impressive texture to the movie. Talking heads interviews explain the nuts and bolts of the various phenomena and the technologies. A narrator in voice-over makes the profound reflections about our future

Ice on Fire, however, fails to address the impact of climate change on the most vulnerable communities of our planet. While everyone around the world feels the effects of climate change, people living in the world’s poorest countries – such as Bangladesh, Haiti and Timor-Leste – are the most vulnerable. Shifting seasons and natural disasters (such as severe draughts in Timor Leste and flooding in rural Bangladesh) disproportionately threaten these peoples, increasing their dependency on humanitarian aid. The doc instead focuses almost entirely on the US and Europe.

It’s also very peculiar that Ice on Fire avoids talking politics. It never addresses which countries and governments are doing their best in order to tackle climate change. The film alludes to the Paris Agreement several times, yet it fails to mention that Donald Trump withdrew the US from international treat exactly two years ago. A very strange omission.

But the biggest problem with Leila Conners’s doc is that the call-to-action is just too broad. It hardly tell us anything we do not already know. It’s common knowledge (except amongst climate change deniers, but these people are not going to watch the film anyway) that our planet is dangerously close to the tipping point, and that we need to take serious action now. But what is it that each one of us can do individually in order to prevent global warming? We’re not going to jump into the cold and ferocious waters of the Orkney Islands in order to operate a device that looks like a floating UFO. We need practical solutions that each and everyone of us can implement in our daily routines.

Ice on Fire was produced and narrated by Leonardo DiCaprio, who also makes a very brief appearance in the end of the movie. It just premiered at the 72nd Cannes International Film Festival. The screening was attended by the film director and the film producer, who gave a passionate speech about climate change.

Parasite (Gi-sa-end-chung)

Posted on by victorfraga

A small family of four lives in a shoddy basement flat in an impoverished district of South Korea. They face unemployment, and the future does not looks bright. They steal wi-fi from their neighbours. They panic when the password is changed, leaving them disconnected from the rest of the world. But that isn’t their one “parasitic” action. All four are con artists. One by one, they take up highly qualified jobs with a super-rich family, which also consists of four members. They are very well-spoken and manipulative. Their bosses never suspect that there’s something wrong with their highly “diligent” workers. These impostors are also extremely charming. Your allegiance is guaranteed to lie with them.

Firstly, the son Ki-woo (Wook Shik-choi) forges an Oxford diploma and takes up a job as an English teacher for the family’s teenage daughter Da-hye (Jung Ziso). Eventually, he also seduces her. Then the cynical daughter Ki-jung (Park So-dam) becomes an art teacher and therapist for the family’s young son Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun). She demands that her bosses never interrupt her “lessons”. The father Ki-taek (Song Hang-ho) becomes a family driver after Ki-jung plants some knickers in the family car, getting the previous driver sacked. Last but not least, the mother Ghung-sook (Hyae Jin-chang) becomes the housemaid after after their loyal employee Moon-gwang (Jeong-eun Lee) is fired, following an cunning plan to make her look infected with TB.

The wealthy boss Mr Park (Sun Kyun-Lee) is kind and polite, while his wife Yeon-kyo (Cho Yeo-jeong) is as gullible as one can be. Like a gaslighting victim in the Hollywood films from yore. Their mansion is beyond extravagant, with lavish furniture and enormous glass walls facing an ostentatious garden. It reminded me of the house in A Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick, 1971), plus a few Korean items. Their money is so abundant that they splash it on a luxury tent for youngest son, who has suddenly become obsessed with American Indians. They epitomise a lifestyle that’s empty and futile in its essence, and yet envied by most South Koreans.

There is also an enormous dungeon complete with corridors and bedrooms. A little bit like Josef Fritzl’s basement. Its entrance is concealed behind an enormous larder, and the house owners seem completely unaware of its existence. One day the old housemaid Moon-gwang returns claiming that she has “forgotten” something. She reveals to the four scammers (who are throwing a little party in the house because the house owners went camping) that her husband has been living there for more than four years, hiding from shark loans.

Failed capitalistic dreams, invidiousness and consumerism are at the heart of his creepy little tale. This 132-minute movie is an extended riff on the pitfalls of a fast-growing economy with little regard for the least advantaged. South Koreans are becoming increasingly materialistic, competitive and aggressive. They are are prepared to cheat, to swindle and to wheedle their way up the socioeconomic ladder, where their can enjoy and boast their social status.

Overall, Parasite is a fast-paced comedy of the absurd with a few ingredients of a thriller thrown in. It has some very peculiar moments, including an awkward sex scene between Mr Park and his wife (with our adorable scammers hiding underneath the sofa), and a very major flood in the district inhabited by Ki-taek’s family (with dirty water gushing from the toilets). Poverty is nasty and murky. So stay away from it. The final part of the film, however, is a little redundant, with the plot suddenly descending into grisly violence. It feels a little directionless and gratuitous. Still, there are plenty of dirtylicious moments to enjoy.

Parasite premiered at the 72nd Cannes International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. It won the Palme d’Or, in an unanimous decision by the jury. It then became the first foreign-language movie ever to win the Oscar for Best Picture. The film was also a bit hit with film critics and industry delegates alike. Very few people had reservations.

It’s out in cinemas across the country on Friday, February 7th. On VoD on Monday, June 1st.

Parasite is in our list of Top 10 dirtiest films of 2019.

Default (Gukgabudo-ui Nal)

Posted on by Jeremy Clarke

The year is 1996. The news media are championing South Korea’s economy as it seemingly goes from strength to strength, never questioning whether financial institutions might in fact be pursuing practices which are sooner or later going to have disastrous economic results. Ms. Han Si-hyun (Kim Hye-su) who runs a fiscal policy unit at the Bank of Korea submits a devastating report to the Bank’s governor, explaining that she and her small department have procedures set in place to save the economy and protect ordinary Koreans from disaster.

The politicians have a very different agenda, however, specifically the smarmy Vice-Minister of Finance (Jo Woo-jin) who views financial collapse as a way to weaken the rights of the working class and restructure the economy in favour of large business interests. Although it’s not name checked, there are echoes here of Naomi Klein’s book The Shock Doctrine and the film based upon it. Against Han’s advice, the government secretly holds talks with the IMF in the form of Michel Camdessus (a suitably creepy Vincent Cassel).

While most of the government officials and the bank’s governor are male, Ms.Han’s small team comprises both genders in equal measure. At one point, she’s subjected to verbal abuse as to how women are emotional and shouldn’t be allowed to work in banks. At another, she bravely holds an unauthorised press conference to reveal to the press what’s going on, only for none of the papers to cover the story.

In a second plot strand, young, smart and hungry stockbroker Yoon Jung-hak (Yoo Ah-in) quits his established financial firm who are convinced the country is on a sure financial footing because, like Han, he can see the impending crash ahead. Unlike Han, however, he wants to play the market and help investors profit from it. The film doesn’t quite know how to handle Yoon. He’s shown as both the visionary who accurately predicts what’s coming and the ruthless predator who helps his clients profit from it – yet on one occasion he rails against his investor clients, suggesting that making money isn’t everything.

A third plot strand takes the proceedings closer to ordinary people as small business owner Gap-su (Heo Jun-ho) is paid for a lucrative deal with a promissory note rather than cash which later turns into a worthless piece of paper when he has creditors to pay. He reassures his workers that they will get the wages they were due two days ago while his wife who works elsewhere loses her job. He contemplates jumping off the balcony of the high rise apartment in which his family live as his two children sleep soundly in their room.

The relentless pace never allows itself to get bogged down in the radical ideas at the film’s heart, preferring instead to keep things moving. An audience-pleasing melodrama as exciting as any Western blockbuster, it successfully conveys a pivotal moment in recent Asian economic history.

Default played as a teaser for LKFF, The London Korean Film Festival. Watch the film trailer below:

Frankie

Posted on by victorfraga

Big director: tick. French diva: tick. Top-drawer cast including British, American and Irish actors: tick. A superb location with historical buildings and a breathtaking coast: tick. A huge budget: tick. Frankie has all the ingredients of a large international co-production. However, this is not a surefire recipe for an effective drama. Frankie doesn’t gel together. The outcome is a tedious, partly formulaic and mostly unremarkable movie.

Frankie (Huppert) is a successful film star living in London with her British husband Jimmy (Brendan Gleeson). They have a child each. Frankie’s son Paul (Jeremie Renier) is bitter and greedy, resentful that his mother is going to donate her €3 million flat in Paris to a charitable foundation, leaving him with nothing after she dies. Jimmy’s daughter Sylvia (Vinette Robinson) is becoming increasingly estranged from her husband Ian (Aryion Bakare). They have a teenage daughter called Maya (Sennia Nanua). Frankie and Paul bump into an old friend and colleague from New York called Ilene (Marisa Tomei), who’s travelling with her boyfriend Gary (Greg Kinnear). Gary wants Frankie to star in his next film, unaware that she has but months to live. Frankie has hired a luxurious villa in Sintra, where she hopes that the entire family will meet. All of the action takes place within the course of a single day.

Gradually, dark secrets from the past begin to emerge, such as the reason why Paul begrudges his mother, and why the family split decades earlier. Sylvia reveals that she has been mulling a divorce for a long time. Ian displays his knowledge of UK law, diligently listing the five legal grounds for divorce, and the ways to obtain a decree absolute. Ilene isn’t having the time of her life either, after her boyfriend does something quite unexpected and with dire consequences.

Quaint and historical Sintra and the neighbouring coastal town of Praia das Macas provide the idyllic backdrop to the far less rosy occasion. The characters visit the historical sites, take long strolls along the pebbled streets and misty countryside roads. Maya takes a charming tram to the beach, where she befriends a local. While the shooting locations are indeed stunningly beautiful, the sequences often feel contrived. Like a Visit Portugal publicity stunt. It’s obvious that the regional government poured tons of money into the project. Which is fine. It’s just that Sachs could have been a little more subtle about it.

But the biggest problem with Frankie is that the story lacks vigour and flare. The dialogues feel forced and laborious. Even the film climax – when Frankie opens up about her terminal condition – left me feeling cold. I doubt anyone in the audience shed any tears. Sachs makes quiet and observational films, always keeping a safe distance from his characters. He has often been compared to Eric Rohmer. This time he got the distance wrong, instead alienating viewers. He was probably so preoccupied with boasting his A-list cast and pleasing his Portuguese sponsors that he allowed his firm directorial grip to slip away. Ultimately, I don’t know what Frankie is all about. It’s one of these films that wants to communicate a lot and ends up with very little to say.

Frankie showed in competition at the 72nd Cannes International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. A very poor choice for the Festival’s main selection. It’s out in cinemas on Friday, May 28th. On VoD on Monday, September 20th (2021).

The Young Ahmed (Le Jeune Ahmed)

Posted on by victorfraga

The young Ahmed is only 13 years of age. He lives in a small town somewhere in French-speaking Belgium with his family. His local imam has lured him into radicalisation. He diligently prays five times a day. He calls his sister a “slut” and his mother an “alky”. He reprehends them for not wearing a jihab. At school, he refuses to shake his teacher’s hand. That’s because the Qoran teaches that a man should not touch a woman outside his family. Ahmed thinks that he’s no longer a child.

Ahmed is laconic and robotic, his body erect, arms straight and head gently leaning down virtually all the time. His gaze is blank and soulless. He’s been brainwashed. Doctrine defines his every move. His actions are devoid of emotion. Not a scintilla of humanity. His mother, on the other hand, is a moderate Muslim. She feels helpless and despondent, unable to recognise her very own son. She cannot challenge his views because the Qoran forbids him from discussing religious matters with a woman.

One day, Ahmed attempts to kill a hapless middle-aged woman with a knife because she’s an “apostate” (a defector). The 13-year-old thinks that all infidels should be murdered. His imam rebukes him, clarifying that the jihad hasn’t started yet. He persuades Ahmed to tell authorities that his actions were spurred by internet videos, sparing his local mosque from prosecution. He goes into a semi-open juvenile detention centre, and part of his reintegration consists of doing errands at a local farm. This is where a pretty girl kisses him, but Ahmed violently rejects her advances. He tries to convince her to convert to Islam so that they can get married and therefore mitigate their “sin”.

Despite the directors’ efforts to portray not to portray all Muslims as Islamic fundamentalists, this is a film likely to fuel Islamophobia. In fact, this is the second francophone movie this year about the radicalisation of young Muslim people in competition at a leading European film festival (the other one being Andre Techine’s Farewell to the Night, at the Berlinale). The two films are strangely similar. It’s as if Techine and the Dardenne brothers were saying: “Islam is evil and it’s corrupting our youth”. A manna from heaven for the likes of Nigel Farage and Marine Le Pen.

Plus, the handshake sequence comes at a very toxic moment: Denmark is attempting to make such gesture compulsory in public ceremonies, in a sheer attempt to marginalise Muslims. Even the left-leaning Social Democrats support the move. I’m seriously concerned that some European progressives are slowly embracing the racist rhetoric of the far-right.

I am not suggesting that the Dardenne brothers are raging racists. They have previously made films about all sorts of broken families and stolen youth, such as the Palme d’Or winning drama Rosetta (1999). But I think that they need to be more careful about the timing of the topics which they pick. The neo-fascist bigots spreading like wildfire across the continent – and not Islam – are our real enemy.

To boot, this isn’t a particularly impressive film. There’s nothing inventive about it. The camerawork is lacklustre, the script is bland and contrived, the climax is lame, and the acting is just about ok. At just 82 minutes, The Young Ahmed would have benefited from a further quarter of an hour of character development, particularly in the family environment. Plus, the ending is dull and unsatisfying.

The Young Ahmed showed in competition at the 72nd Cannes International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. It did not deserve to be a part of such prestigious selection. It is out on Curzon Home Cinema on Friday, August 7th.

Nina Wu

Posted on by victorfraga

Nina is young and pretty. she has left rural Taiwan and moved to glitzy Taipei in search of a promising opportunity as a film star. She’s advised, however, that the role includes full frontal nudity in bed with two men. She’s told: “if that makes you uncomfortable don’t even audition for the it”. She auditions and wins. But that’s just the start of her problems. The menacing filmmaker manipulates her constantly. He emotionally harasses her in order to elicit the strongest emotions. At times, it’s unclear whether Nina’s acting or genuinely frightened.

What starts out as a didactic #MeToo statement about abuse in the film industry gradually develops into something far more complex and sinister. Some of the sequences within the film being made border absurdity. Nina is on a dinghy full of boxes. The police arrives and orders the shooting to stop. The boxes explode and a bloodied Nina jumps into the water. She nearly dies. The credits roll. Maybe this is a film within a film within a film. There’s a also dream within a dream within a dream. The layers of reality, allegory and imagination blend seamlessly.

Ke-xi is spectacular. She has the power to convey the most varies emotions with her facial expressions. She will make you laugh and cry. And she can navigate comfortably through the film’s various narratives layers, confounding viewers about her real emotions.

The story zigzags back and forth in time, and in the second half of the movie we learn the details of the extremely bizarre audition. The producer pits women against each other, turning the aspiring film stars into vile bitches (literally). The invidious female who ended second seeks to exact revenge on Nina. We also learn that Nina is a Lesbian in a relationship with a woman in her hometown back in the countryside. This is a very significant point, as Taiwan became the first country in Asia to legalise gay marriage just a few days ago. Nina, however, prioritises her career ahead of the romance. Perhaps because she thinks that the country isn’t prepared to accept a Lesbian actress just yet.

The film is dotted with strange imagery, bordering the surreal. A gecko moves inside a lamp. Nina is tortured on a stretcher inside a beauty clinic. She runs outside covered in plastic wrap and strangers snap her with their phone. Plus the audition and filming are extremely bizarre. And funny. Nina Wu balances out tension and humour extremely well.

Stick around until the very end of this 103-minute film. A lot comes full circle in the last sequence. This isn’t just a psychological thriller dotted with the bizarre gimmicks and narrative tricks. It has something very serious to say.

Nina Wu showed in the 72th Cannes International Film Festival, as part of the Un Certain Regard section (2019), when this piece was originally written. This isn’t the only film in the event dealing with a male director humiliating and manipulating the film actresses. Gaspar Noe does it too, if from a very different and far more disturbing perspective.

The film premieres in the UK in October in the London East Asia Film Festival (LEAFF). On Mubi on Tuesday, July 13th (2021)