Month: August 2020

Les Misérables

Posted on by victorfraga

France has roundly thrashed Croatia in the 2018 World Cup final and the streets are thronging with celebration. Young Issa (Issa Perica) and his mates have bussed into the centre in order to share in the glory of their countrymen and inspiring hero Mbappé, dark faces shining brightly in a sea of Caucasians. Flash forward and it is difficult to reconcile this innocent joy with the damaged being at the end, wounded by police heavy-handedness in an apathetic, uncaring state.

Morning dawns on the heavily immigrant Les Bosquets housing estate of the Montfermeil district and residual passions linger from the victory, compounded by 30-plus degree heat. Into this pressurised environment, Brigadier Stéphane Ruiz (Damien Bonnard) has his first day on the job after transferring from a presumably cushy countryside posting. He is placed with the affable, local-born Gwada (Djebril Zonga) and obnoxious dickhead Chris (Alexis Manenti), tasked with keeping the neighbourhood in line. They navigate a demimonde of interfactional influences – social and criminal groups that fill the authority void left by an absence of any positive government. The local ‘Mayor’ (Steve Tientcheu) holds sway over the streets, presumably with charge over the prostitution and drugs that are presented as major issues in the area but never depicted on screen. The Muslim Brotherhood is also in force, attending to the physical appetites of the local kids as a means to try and feed their spiritual. The kids themselves are a force to be reckoned with by numbers alone, Issa and his brethren eking their fun out of the tenements’ rubble. Chris’ unit patrols, poking fun with residents one moment, cajoling and threatening the next. They demand fear disguised as respect.

Beyond a shared setting, the association of the film to the eponymous novel is not immediately apparent. There is no trite, synthetic naming of characters to match. Instead, the dispossessed youths are cast as the current generation of revolutionaries, taking inspiration from the Parisian riots of 2005 in which Montfermeil, Clichy-sous-Bois and other nearby suburbs took to the streets with violence. Makeshift barricades and all. A nod to the infamous musical adaptation also feels present, with a theatrical element delivered by the introduction of a travelling circus. Transgression against these hardened roadmen serve as a match with which to ignite the current Parisian powder keg.

Morality in les Bosquets is a spectrum of grey and the messages from above are mixed. Ruiz is warned by his new commissioner that anti-social behaviour will not be tolerated, seconds after some light sexual harassment in the precinct on her part. Chris himself is not averse to leaning on the shadier individuals to help him in matters and his volatile disposition is a major source of escalation within the film. As the plot wears on, his short-term cowboyism proves increasingly insufficient to enact long-term solutions and their control of the situation is worn and eroded. There are timely parallels to the situation of police brutality in the US and the new prevalence of body camera footage. Numerous locals are introduced as having reformed in prison and Ly himself served time at the turn of 2010 for violence against his sibling and her partner. Accordingly, strong metaphors of caged animals pushed to the brink are present. On principle, unsubtle metaphors are not bad things. However, some literal expressions of this metaphor are tonally a bit out of place.

An engaging plot carries the film along and tensions are constantly elevated by the high-intensity interactions between the police and their charges – interactions that are caught up close on camera for a claustrophobic feel. Contrasting aerial shots show the full nature of the district; crowded housing blocks and markets in opposition to the picturebook central Paris of popular culture. The film could be considered an antidote to ‘Paris syndrome’, the visceral culture shock experienced by tourists, particularly the Japanese, upon arriving for their holidays and finding a city greatly at odds to their expectations. Hallucination, anxiety and vomiting can follow. Screening of Les Misérables alongside Amélie (Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2001) and Before Sunset (Richard Linklater, 2004) could help eradicate this phenomenon and actor performances here are as good as any other film set in the city. Nuanced, believable and human, with hard-faced posturing giving way to vulnerability throughout. A short montage that passes over quiet moments for all of the film’s principals also furthers the sense of humanity surviving in the face of hardship, bent but not broken.

This is one of the true takeaway messages here, alongside the warning that cities discount these communities at their peril. Newer immigrant communities are ostensibly accepted but still kept at bay with fewer opportunities and cultural distrust. Time has worn the path to acceptance for, say, immigrants to Britain from China and the Indian subcontinent. However, in this accelerated world of partisan news, climate change and drone strikes, mass immigration is one of few constants and time alone may no longer suffice to bring new waves of huddle masses into the fold. Films like Les Misérables can help bridge empathy to these worlds – here, without sacrificing entertainment value. Look forward to Ladj Ly telling more tales of life in the margins of Paris.

Les Misérables is in cinemas everywhere from Friday, September 4th. On VoD on Monday, December 7th.

The Bay of Silence

Posted on by victorfraga

Based on the eponymous book by English novelist Lisa St Aubin de Terán and directed by Dutch filmmaker Paula van der Oest, The Bay of Silence tells the story of a mother suspected of killing her own son, in a complex and multilayered narrative.

Olga Kurylenko exposes a woman caught in the stultifying effects of a postnatal malaise. Whole scenes, set pieces and silhouettes are dedicated to depicting Rosalind’s descent to certain madness, capturing her own literal description of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Pillared between the advice of her father (a garrulous Brian Cox), and her husband (an excellent Claes Bang), she escapes with what she believes is one from a set of twins. She flees from England to France, where the nightmares continue. The blame of a near fatal fall – a fall she’s convinced killed her unborn child – drives her from the precipice of certain madness, into the arms of complete insanity.

As haunting as the genre it echoes, The Bay of Silence prescribes to the crime thriller genre, capturing the spectral beauties that wanders every frame. More than that, it’s the tale of a fractured mother, embracing the demons that have put her on this metaphorical and literal cliff. Locating his sickly wife in the Normandy locales, Will (Bang) turns to his stepdaughters for guidance, assurance and information. They speak only in riddles, rhymes and silly noises, calling on their ‘daddy’ to solve this insoluble puzzle.

Kurylenko, riding on an artistic high, is superb, characterising a woman captured by the whims, wills and wants of the many men in her life. Boarding on transport back to England, Rosalind falls into the arms of a handsome Frenchman, thanking him for the foresight he’s offered her. The less guarded Will shoos her away, whisking her back to the safeties England offers her citizens. And yet away from the banks that won Britain the WW2, Rosalind and Will find themselves trenched in their own pit of despondency.

The female gaze is conspicuous. Opening on Rosalind (wading inside the water that carries her louche, light body), the film shows a woman raging against the varying rushing tides. Dying to understand where her husband has hidden himself, the panic settles around her unsettled body. The despair emanates from the inside out. Her smile, chirpily poised at the man who delivers her son, disappears from the onset, seldom to return. And it brings viewers into a character study, painting a woman denied the happiness she so ecstatically hoped pregnancy would offer. Crime thrillers do not come finer than The Bay of Silence, yet this is a more romantic vignette, placing greater import on the horrors within us than the dangers outside.

The Bay of Silence is out on DVD and Digital on Monday, September 28th.

Tenet

Posted on by victorfraga

He’s done it again. Yes, he’s playing with time and audience expectations. Yes, the action is kinetic and absorbing. Yes, Michael Caine is in it and women barely are. Despite conforming to his well-trodden formula in parts, a bonkers science fiction conceit and engaging performances lead to a convincing result.

Foremost, the action set pieces are something to behold. These are your big ticket items to get the punters through the door and they are visually stunning from the get-go, tending increasingly ostentatious as the runtime wears on. Indeed, some of the more sprawling sequences can be a little hard to follow but there is nothing to criticise about the individual components in these magnetic dioramas. The sci-fi element is key to the fun and without giving any of the mechanics away, Nolan really shows off how the laws of physics themselves are an undeniable element of his director’s toolkit. Here we see the culmination of cinema magic first seeded in the wonky worlds of his earlier movies Inception (2010) and Interstellar (2014). The feats committed to screen are at turns beguiling, jaw-dropping and sometimes a little frustrating to wrap your head around.

The same is true of the overarching plot. The whole film is strung along by a capably deafening soundtrack but unfortunately the bombastic sound design means that essential explanatory dialogue is occasionally lost and the film doesn’t take a single breath for viewers to catch up. Even with the addition of subtitles, I lost some nuances of just why particular events were happening. Despite the lack of clarity, it’s a lot more interesting than the pseudocomplexity of Interception. Just don’t think about it too hard, as the characters themselves take pains to point out. Sure, some overwrought nerds will doubtless emerge with an axe to grind but treat it as knowingly dumb and walk away all the more satisfied.

Lead roles are a little light on substance, but who really needs things like ‘motivation’ and ‘character development’ when there is such a bounty of rich action to be had. John David Washington is clearly having a lot of fun but never strays too far from badass mode. Helped along by the globe-spanning storyline, Bond is the obvious comparison and a property that has been flirtatiously associated with Nolan for years. Fortunately, Tenet plays more to Craig than Connery but whilst the weight of the lead is admirably shouldered by Washington, it is Robert Pattinson who steals scenes effortlessly. All suave competence with a touch of enigma, Pattinson has recently excelled at genre performances with Good Time (Safdie Brothers, 2017), High Life (Claire Denis, 2019) and The Lighthouse (Robert Eggers, 2019), positioning himself as an actor who can do anything. Tenet provides the most directly big-budget action role for him yet, a dry run ahead of his upcoming turn as Bruce Wayne. Nolan here ensures a successful passing of the Batman custodianship. No-one talks about Affleck.

Elsewise, the actor behind the central antagonist is near unrecognisable, name withheld so that readers can also experience moments of “Is that…? Surely not. But it must be…”. Whilst this turn is pleasantly surprising, the brief appearance of Sir Michael Caine comes across as needlessly gratuitous this time around. Whilst some Nolan darlings are bearing ever-fresher fruit, it’s past time to kill others and women are again underserved here. Elizabeth Debicki merits her share of the screen time but is given very little to work with aside from keywords like “doting mother”, “unhappy marriage” and “tenacious”. She is introduced with a background in art appraisal and certification but this quickly falls by the wayside in service to the bigger picture. Other female characters are functional, delivering exposition in their brief windows on-screen before it’s back to the boys. Maybe next time, eh. A slew of minor mercenary figures also rise and fall as the characters traverse country to country, their availability explained away by the intelligence service background of the main characters. Again, don’t think about it too much.

All that to say Tenet is well worth your time and money in a summer light on new releases. However, the film is firmly located at the opposite end of the spectrum to offerings from Statham, Cruise and The Rock, demanding a little savvy from the audience. A few threads are even left open to chew over at home and, from another studio, one could expect further installments. In this era of constant franchising, it is gratifying to instead be allowed the space to reflect.

Tenet is in cinemas everywhere on Wednesday, August 26th. On VoD on Friday, January 4th

Message Man

Posted on by victorfraga

There are films that are noteworthy of a certain genre. With horror, you look at Hitchcock’s 1960 Psycho; with Westerns, there’s Sam Peckinpah’s 1969 The Wild Bunch) and then there are films that are the antithesis of a genre. In the case of Scott Pearson’s 2019 film, Message Man, a film about a monosyllabic Australian hitman stopping a human trafficking ring in Indonesia, it belongs in the garbage bin of hitman movies.

The press release describes the movie as “a slick slice of action entertainment that blends old school action flair, with today’s epic set pieces.” In reality, the film is nothing short of a hatchet job with predictable tropes from the countless hitman movies of the past.

Paul O’Brien plays Ryan Teller, an emotionally devoid man with a violent past who is stranded on an Indonesian island until his boat is repaired. Ryan is welcomed onto the island by an impoverished family whose children are kidnapped by a gang of sex traffickers. Ryan’s past catches up to him, or as much as one is led to believe since the exposition is not as fluid and slick as the press release makes Message Man out to be. With a plot shamelessly lifted from Taken (Pierre Morel 2008), including a pathetic mobile phone call between Ryan and a criminal kingpin, this is a low-grade flick of the ear rather than an action-packed punch to the gut.

Additionally, Pearson’s representation of the Indonesians as either impoverished victims or money-grubbing killers is irritating as much as it is insensitive. I was reminded of the critical backlash Alan Parker received with the release of Midnight Express (1978), in which the Turkish people (played by Maltese and Italian actors) were represented as violently corrupt stereotypes in the eyes of an American locked up abroad. Unlike Alan Parker who managed to make an engaging genre film despite the racial controversy, Pearson’s Message Man is shoddy even when it tries to become action-slacked thriller. The images of heads and limbs blown apart with digital blood cascading the screen adds another layer of feckless stupidity to an otherwise dimwitted plot of an armed white man single-handedly taking out a foreign crime syndicate.

Even the cast could not keep this sinking ship of a film afloat. O’Brien epitomises wooden acting with his lacklustre line delivery that would make Steven Seagal look like Daniel Day Lewis. My only sympathy goes towards the Indonesian cast who had to see their culture diluted by Pearson’s pathetic wet dream of a macho-man movie. In short, Message Man would have been somewhat redeemable if it were called Return to Sender instead!

Message Man is available on VoD from Monday, August 17th.

Real

Posted on by victorfraga

This is a film of vast ambition and bold humanity, focusing on the collective failings that exist within working class England. It flits from the artful to the authentic, with palatable, passionate strokes. At one corner are the fruitful outings of a mother eager to maintain the love of her only child; at the other sits a sartorial suitor who has barely progressed from the confines of childhood. There is more. Director Aki Omoshaybi creates a new spin on the romantic genre, showing the agonies of love from both a male and female perspective.

We first see a man, dressed so lucidly and elegantly in a dinner jacket, offering to spot a lady’s groceries. Their eyes meet, and so the duo exchange names. Kyle (the natty Omoshaybi) finds Jamie (Pippa Bennett-Warner) enigmatic, accepting her sense of dress as a sense of her place in the world. Except it isn’t. She is a struggling, single parent, barely able to feed her boy the Coco ops she so steadfastly promised him. She sees in Kyle the security robbed from her life, and aches to take him to the fractures derived from one too many a jilted lover.

Failure hangs in many frames, as each character dwells on their foibles in their deepest, darkest moments. Kyle, eager to whisk his betrothed to be, invites Jamie out for a romantic rendezvous. “I know it’s stupid,” Jamie tells him, sipping the remnants of a wine she knows she can’t afford: “I don’t want to be judged for what I do.”

Neither, it seems, does he, but he’s unwilling to admit to that. Indeed, the only way we sense his inner frustrations are through his mother, the one woman who holds greater power over Kyle. Finding his impish, prevaricatory approach to life problematic, she inevitably throws Kyle out of his childhood home when she discovers that he’s borrowed her car imprudently. Daring as ever, Kyle takes this rejection as he does the many others that come his way; stylishly. He flaunts around in immaculate wear and tear, those tidy jackets sitting so comfortably on his shoulders, not one button under pressure. What follows is some of Omoshaybi’s finest, rawest work to date, as he awaits the laceration that he has waited too long to receive.

The beauty of Real is how it shows the female protagonist’s courage without dwelling on it, fashioning a performance that could only come from a place of honesty. Everywhere we go, there are telltale signs pointing to our lives within the lives of those who inhabit this version of Portsmouth. And as it is with every aspect of life, the characters carry on with brill, British resolve, eager to make it to their proverbial finish line, without embarrassing themselves too much along the way. That both do it so stylishly, and with such excellent taste in clothes, only helps to sell the emotion.

Real is in cinemas on Friday, September 11th.

Neither good nor evil!

Posted on by victorfraga

Irish cinema is seeing burgeoning activity. There are enough stories out there to satisfy the most diverse tastes. Take Animals, an insightful look at revelry from a feverish, female voice; or The Last Right (Aoife Crehan, 2019), a liturgical comedy about life’s union in death; or even Calm With Horses (2020), Nick Rowland’s astonishing portrait of rural, rustic violence. Lenny Abrahamson recently sought to adapt Sally Rooney’s probing novel Normal People for the BBC, while Ciarán Cassidy made Jihad Jane (2019), a tale of two women eager to bring down a seminal Swedish painter, from the corners of County Waterford.

Between these entries also sits Be Good or Be Gone, “Ireland’s answer to Heat (Michael Mann, 1995)”. It follows two petty criminals as they receive a temporary release from prison. At its most basic and essential, the film captures a crooked heartbeat that happens right in the centre of the Irish capital. One of the most exhilarating films of its ilk, it both acknowledges and transcends the blueprint set to them by John Boorman’s The General (1998). Martin Cahill, the most notorious celebrity criminal from the Irish waters, popped up in our interview with director Cathal Nally, 25 years after his mysterious death. Our writer Eoghan Lyng and the helmer also talked about Dublin as a film character, Catholicism, the renaissance of Irish cinema, working with Les Martin and more!

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Eoghan Lyng – I think that Be Good or Be Gone is comparable to Michael Mann’s pious masterpiece Heat. Were you influenced by Mann as a director or storyteller?

Cathal Nally – Wow! I would never in a million years put Be Good Or Be Gone in the same sentence as Heat. But, to answer your question, yes, I absolutely loved Heat when it came out and I’ve always admired and enjoyed Mann’s work. In particular both The Last of the Mohicans (1992) and The Insider (1999) but I don’t think there was any conscious thought going on when I was putting Be Good Or Be Gone together in relation to Heat. If I had the same budget I probably would of thrown some Heat in there…

EL – Other have compared your film to Lenny Abrahamson’s excellent Adam & Paul (2005). Would you agree with that particular comparison?

CN – Not really. Don’t get me wrong, I really liked Adam & Paul but our film is very different. I get the comparisons but there’s so much more going on with our film and it is a cross genre film unlike Adam & Paul which is a simple straightforward dark urban drama following two junkies. Be Good Or Be Gone follows two characters too but Ste and Weed are much different. Ste is trying to make good and re-establish his relationship with his partner and child while Weed (although suffering from drug-abuse) genuinely thinks he’s going to become the next Galliano in the fashion world. Perhaps it’s pure fantasy for Weed but in his own way he’s pursuing it.

EL – Dublin strikes me as an integral third character. Did you always envision to film it in the Irish capital?

CN – Oh definitely! I always wanted to make good “durty” Dublin tale. I lived there for 14 years and I made several short films (most of which were not set in Dublin) and I just wanted to do one real Dublin street tale. When I first read the script, I thought the characters were so well defined through the dialogue I couldn’t leave it down. Paul Murphy and Les Martin’s dialogue really catches your attention. The dialogue is the best I’ve ever read in any Irish script. Dialogue-wise I honestly don’t think anyone bar Roddy Doyle has written anything close. It’s just spot-on and I wanted my first feature film to have that authenticity. I was very lucky to work with this material. Location-wise the film is mostly exterior and set around flats. We got permission to shoot in O’Devaney’s Gardens by DCC. Those flats are all gone now. They were levelled not long after we shot there. Our film is practically a historical document at this point. So yeah, we really wanted a particular type of Dublin to stand out as a character.

EL – The film opens on the leads seated in their incarcerated habitat. Did you get to shoot this scene in Mount Joy?

CN – No, we didn’t. We built a set in a holding cell at a different location. We also got permission to use the exterior gate of Arbour Hill Prison. That was a funny day of shooting. It’s a working prison and as a result it was very difficult to get clear shots because people were coming and going all the time. I’d say about 50 prison guards came in and out of the gate over the space of two hours. It was just awkward conditions to work in but look, we got it purely for free from the Warden and we were really lucky to get even that. This film was largely assembled through a lot of good will at the end of the day.

EL – Ireland’s most notorious felon, Martin Cahill, holds a shadow over the city from which he made his fortunes. Did his imprints influence the film in any way?

CN – Not directly. Like, his son [Martin Cahill Jr] is an excellent well-known and respected set builder and puppeteer. He was our production designer and props guy. He did some location scouting with Les Martin early on too and gave us some great pointers on where to shoot certain scenes. Also, his daughter played Ellie Mae in the film too. So yes, Martin Cahill did indirectly leave an imprint on our film though his son and granddaughter.

EL – Aching for a more pious path, the two characters embroil themselves further down the route of crime. And yet, the film never loses sight of the spiritual destination. Were you impressed by the liturgical element to the story?

CN – Well I suppose it’s hard to make an Irish film without a reference to Catholicism or the divine in some way. But I liked the way that aspect of Irish culture was represented in the script. Like the character of John ‘The Baptist’ is off the wall but it’s handled in a strangely comedic yet positive way and I liked having that in the film. It was different and in a good way.

EL – It’s refreshing to find an Irish Crime film that doesn’t involve Anglo-Irish Relations as some sort of plot device. Are audiences opening up to different kinds of Irish tales?

CN – Oh yeah, there’s a lot of different stories being made now. Personally, my next film would and will be very different to Be Good Or Be Gone. Thematically and subjectwise it’ll be very different. I think Irish cinema is finally going through a much needed renaissance through many of its genres, from horror to drama. It’s exciting and I’m looking forward to seeing more independent films from new voices.

EL – Les Martin both wrote and starred in this project. Was it challenging working with an actor who held such an invested interest in the story?

CN – You know, I can honestly say that Les Martin is really easy to work with. Not only is he funny, charming and decent but he just wants to make the best picture. He’s very open to ideas and re-writes and anything that improves the film. He’s also very patient and professional. Like, we didn’t know each other prior to making this film yet we’ve been on a journey five years making it and in all that time we’ve both learned an awful lot. But we also just worked together really well and it all boils down to trust and not letting ego get in the way. I’d love to work with him again.

EL – Driving one of the many exciting projects that has been filmed by Irish cameras, you should be in prime position to speculate on where the future of the Irish medium is heading. Could you hazard a guess?

Well, what I’d like to see is more Irish films covering different facets of our society and psyche. There’s a lot there not being covered and a lot of stuff being covered too much. A lot of it boils down to lack of funding or funding the wrong project or whatever. But I feel things are changing and more interesting pictures will be made. Like, nothing is going to stop me. I’ll keep going regardless. Perhaps at a slower pace than I’d want. But, I got a few more in me over the next decade.

● Are there any future projects you’d like to tell us about?

I have something I’m working on but I’m keeping it to myself. It’s neither a crime nor a thriller piece. That’s all I’m gonna say!

The stills on the interview are both from ‘Be Good or Be Gone’; the image of the top is of Cathal Nally

Away

Posted on by victorfraga

In 1940, Walt Disney released Fantasia, a dense collage of childhood memory and cosmic awe, considered by many to be the most astonishing feat of animated ingenuity. Fast forward 80 years, and we have Away, a soaring collection of kaleidoscopic vignettes. Very few animated films have so succinctly married visual and strings since Disney collated a whole tapestry of idiosyncratic images to the beat of the Philadelphia Orchestra. But there are also remarkable differences: the Disney classic was directed by 12 filmmakers and used state-of-the-art technology, while Away is the byproduct of the imagination of one single director, and deploys minimalist animation.

Gints Zilbalodis’s animated feature starts as a slow-burn, psychedelic masterwork, before unravelling into something much more affecting and human. We follow the ventures of an unnamed protagonist forward on a motorbike, with nought for company but the calming presence of a chirping bird. Behind the ephemeral monster that awaits this duo, is the outstretch of road that presents the passageways they must follow. They are trying to escape a dark spirit and return home. And, as far as plot goes, that’s about it.

The story works as a love letter to an almost forgotten era of storytelling, plunging viewers headfirst into the spiralling events on display. Zilbadolis is fearless in pushing viewers into a story that requires little understanding of the character’s purpose. In an industry hellbent on answering audience concerns, this entry’s exploratory nature is as beautiful in its anarchy as in its artistry.

The jolt of chemistry between visual and soundtrack is instant, creating a cohesive, hybrid world for the viewer to slip into. As it happens the film is almost entirely dialogue free, and centres entirely on the language of visuals. Nature surrounds the protagonist. Plastered with graceful, radiant brush strokes, the landscape swallows us with passion.

This is visual poetry at its best. It echoes a tenable emotion that lies deep inside of each one of us.

Away is in cinemas on Friday, August 28th.

You’ve Been Trumped Too

Posted on by victorfraga

Anthony Baxter’s first film, You’ve Been Trumped (2011), was so potent that it should have been an unofficial public service announcement during the 2016 presidential election. Its depiction of the Aberdeenshire golf club fiasco, which saw several residents – including 92-year-old Molly Forbes – have their water supply cut off, revealed Trump for what he is: a bully, a narcissist and a quasi-gangster.

Naturally, the most damning stuff occurred when the cameras merely rolled; no argument was needed, just let the man speak. One moment sees Trump off-handedly demand the destruction of a house overlooking the course, and when his colleague suggests this will be met with opposition he retorts, with that signature bitchy arrogance, “Who cares? You know what, who cares?’” Alas, much has happened in Donald Trump’s life since then, and this new film, You’ve Been Trumped Too, picks up where it left off.

An early interview segment between Baxter and Trump shows that he manages to be disagreeable before he’s even asked a question. Trump objects to his microphone clip, the ‘worst clip he’s ever seen’, and demands that Don Jr. to show Baxter what a real clip looks like, beckoning his son with a pointed finger.

Don’t feel sorry for Don Jr., though, because he’s truly a chip off the old block. In another early segment, Trump’s firstborn insists with total sincerity that the ‘little people’ were heard and at ‘great expense’, displaying an almost risible lack of self-awareness.

Again, Baxter does not have to probe far to capture Trump and his offspring’s dearth of personal qualities. Yet he does orchestrate several set ups to cast the thickest possible shadow over the creepy dynasty. For example, one scene that focuses on Molly Forbes’s WW2 farm service appears to be a digression, but it’s used to contrast against the Trump sons’ penchant for shooting elephants, reminding us of even further layers of villainy.

The contrasts continue. We see Molly attend a sombre church service remembering the sacrifices of the World Wars, which is followed by a Trump rally in which he ogles some naval guns and declares, “Oh, and we love the second amendment, right?” One is hard-pressed to argue with the hostility of Baxter’s portrayal, but these contrast segments and indeed the wider documentary preach to the choir; most are all too familiar with Trump’s empty, boastful rhetoric and his immature disregard for human life.

The documentary does draw a few parallels between Trump’s promises for the club and his promises for the country – such as the 6000 hotel jobs that turned out to be just 95 – but Baxter builds little upon the original story otherwise. Then there’s a travel segment that follows local man Michael Forbes to the Republican National Convention in Ohio. Perfectly watchable, but it’s also filler in a film that really shouldn’t have any at just 75 minutes long.

Ultimately, despite its virtue, this documentary is something of a You’ve Been Trumped 1.5 – an encore rather than a sequel. So for those unfamiliar with Trump’s mission to level the sand dunes of Balmedie, as well as Scottish Parliament’s spineless appeasement of him, I urge you to see Baxter’s incendiary debut feature, You’ve Been Trumped.

You’ve Been Trumped Too is available on VoD Tuesday, August 18th.

Sputnik

Posted on by Paul Risker

Russia, 1983 – Colonel Semiradov (Fyodor Bondarchuk), the head of a secluded military facility recruits the maverick doctor Tatiana Klimova (Oksana Akinshina), to evaluate Konstantin Sergeyevich (Pyotr Fyodorov) the sole surviving cosmonaut of the spacecraft Orbit-4. In the process of her work, she learns that he may have brought back to Earth an alien parasite, and Semiradov’s motivations lie in weaponising it.

I’ll never forget the unsettling feeling I had watching the opening of Roland Emmerich’s Independence Day (1996), the memory of which still conjures up an eerie feeling. The triumph of mankind darkened by the shadow of an extraterrestrial force creeping over the lunar landing site. The music building to the big reveal of the alien vessel appearing overhead with Earth in the distance. It’s cinematic storytelling with an adrenaline rush. This one scene is symbolic of how humanity’s gaze to the stars has been one of wonder and fear – the achievement of our adventurous spirit juxtaposed with the fear of the unknown depths of space.

Out of this fear cinema has presented the unscrupulous nature of man as a source of terror, and the comparative nature of the ambitions of the socialist Soviet Union and a futuristic vision of capitalism. These are two opposing forms of political ideology, but Semiradov’s intentions to weaponise the parasite recalls the Weyland-Yutani Corporation of the Alien franchise, who have similar ambitions for the Alien.

In one scene, Semiradov says to Klimova, “Do you know why we need weapons? Weapons guarantee peace. A pack of dogs would tear each other to pieces. In order to live in peace, they need one leader.” His argument is an oversimplification – the world is divided up as a more than a pack of dogs, and the reason for weapons is peace through a propensity for mutual destruction. Our political world is built on this idea, and we still see tensions with countries such as Iran over nuclear development programmes, a deterrent to military threats from political and economic adversaries.

The political commentary aside, director Egor Abramenko’s feature debut is a journey from suspense to emotion, that creates a symbiotic relationship with Klimova. Introduced as a maverick who has saved the life of a boy, she deduces that Semiradov has recruited her because she’s willing to take risks. He sees someone akin to himself who prioritises results ahead of process. A single-mindedness imbues a character with a hardness, and Akinshina is captivating in the way she reveals the emotional depth of her character. Abramenko and his writers and writers Oleg Malovichko and Andrei Zolotarev position her to other characters in such a way that develops and mutually benefits them as a group, while also creating dramatic parallel arcs: Sergeyevich (Pyotr Fyodorov) the emotional, and Semiradov the ethical.

Sputnik is an assured first feature that does not try to reinvent the genre and break with cliche. Abramenko, Malovichko and Zolotarev trust in a familiar science-fiction horror told well, and here is its pleasure. However, Sputnik is the type of story that will inevitably live or die on the back of its creature. Abramenko’s direction empowers the alien, that while not as iconic as other creatures in the genre, is a ferocious and menacing addition to the genre.

Sputnik is streaming On Digital in the UK (Vertigo Releasing) and in select theatres, On Digital and Cable VoD in the U.S (IFC Films) from Friday, August 14th.

The Masseur

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The titular character is Illiac (Coco Martin) – a young man who caters to a male clientele in need of release (of any kind) in Manila. When his father dies, he travels back home for the funeral and both sides of his life – the smalltown boy and the urban sex worker – juxtapose inside him.

The film’s greatest strength is that it continuously finds new ways to convey that juxtaposition visually. In this context, the body becomes a powerful link between Illiac’s predicament in the countryside as well as in the city. In one scene, a sequence of cuts connects the act of disrobing before a massage with the act of dressing a corpse.

The script, written by Boots Agbayani Pastor, is enamoured of this type of contrast. Life and death constantly pop up against each other throughout the film – even if it’s sometimes so on the nose that it softens their blow. For example, while Illiac’s father is being buried, a lot of attention is given to a street game that’s taking place nearby.

This is symptomatic of the big narrative issues in display here. By focusing too much on the point this story is trying to make, the filmmakers forget to add depth to these characters. The audience never gets to know the inner thoughts of Illiac in regards to his profession – nor what may have driven him to it. His family relations are never fully fledged and it’s never fully clear how they deal with one another. He has a girlfriend who makes two (very obnoxious) appearances and then is strangely left out of the narrative.

The character who has more screen time besides the masseur is Alfredo (Alan Paule) – one of his clients who claims to be a writer. Their sessions together develop into some sort of seduction that takes up most of the feature’s latter half. While this could be a short film on its own, it feels inconsequential and disconnected in this context. The fact that Illiac’s sexuality is never openly discussed reinforces the narrative’s blind spot.

In hindsight, The Masseur‘s flaws may be attributed to the growing pains of juvenilia. Since its release, Martin became a star and Mendoza grew to be a powerhouse in Filipino filmmaking. Here, both artists show talent and skill, but they still lacked a clear voice.

The Masseur is showing as part of the Locarno Film Festival. You too can watch it at home by clicking here.

Memories of my Body (Kucumbu Tubuh Indahku)

Posted on by victorfraga

TThis coming-of-age movie is loosely based on the life of Indonesian dancer Rianto, who also narrates the story. His appearances serve as a framing device, bookending four tales of discovery and growth occurred in different ages.

Rianto’s cinematic counterpart is named Juno. The feature follows him as he grows from a child in a rural community to an entrancing performer who disrupts a local election. Foregoing the traditional biopic approach, the script – which was penned by the director – is more concerned with the formative aspect of the boy’s experiences than with a regular chronology, using ellipses and stylistic detours as it sees fit.

Taking a cue from the poster from David Bowie – pop culture’s patron saint of transformation – which is seen in the beginning of the film, the protagonist’s journey is a process of assimilation and change, in which everything that is lived becomes a transformative knowledge. Right in the first story, in which he discovers which hens are due to lay eggs through his fingers, he realises the importance of the body in this process. This leads him to the Lengger – an ancient traditional Indionesian dance.

As Juno’s Lengger technique expands, the film reinforces the idea that everything is dance, in the sense that it is a form of movement which is experienced by the body. Because the dancer sees it so, he can pick up abilities easily and those allow him to move forward.

His sight is capable of measuring people without touching them. His touch makes him a skilful couturier. His connection to the elements renders him desirable by both politicians and wizards. In the middle of all this, he takes everything in: he falls in love, he gets abandoned, he finds his true calling, he loses his family, he roams the country and he has tons of sex.

The narrator ascertains that “destiny lives in the grace of your body”, and this statement summarises the film quite neatly. Memories of My Body suggests a reality where the line between physicality and the world around it is very thin.

Memories of My Body is showing as part of the Locarno Film Festival. You can watch the movie by clicking here.