tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78510479698336878032024-03-12T22:46:45.190-04:00AmiresqueAmirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.comBlogger306125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-27619147482318281142016-03-01T16:35:00.001-05:002016-03-01T16:35:11.297-05:00New BeginningsIt's with a bittersweet feeling that I announce this news, but this blog will be permanently closed and not updated again. I'm not going anywhere of course, and have only updated to <a href="http://amiresque.com/">a better and bigger website</a>, with the name and logo completely intact. Still, this blog was my first foray into writing in English and starting it back in February 2010 has changed my life in ways I definitely did not foresee at the time. I've loved writing in this space and I love every single person who ever read any of my posts and commented and encouraged me along the way. I hope you follow me over to <a href="http://amiresque.com/">the new venture</a>. Click on the image below to be redirected to the website.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-83219698212343675092016-01-06T13:00:00.000-05:002016-01-11T23:15:28.496-05:00Best of 2015<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Best Film</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUQKyGfxsEOtAOPuZ-qfSfAyKjjhO8bT_MDsRDM0NE34LFXVKnGV0tlPV4aliXwOumq1kwvIRS9sUGZ0D7yauThrwo0krjALAk4mPsrH7LA1c0EWnGwiCoY005SgrIyOrIBFB3w4kdmo/s1600/carol.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUQKyGfxsEOtAOPuZ-qfSfAyKjjhO8bT_MDsRDM0NE34LFXVKnGV0tlPV4aliXwOumq1kwvIRS9sUGZ0D7yauThrwo0krjALAk4mPsrH7LA1c0EWnGwiCoY005SgrIyOrIBFB3w4kdmo/s400/carol.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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1. <b>Carol</b> (<i>Haynes</i>)</div>
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2. <b>Arabian Nights: Vol. 1-3 </b>(<i>Gomes</i>)</div>
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3. <b>The Look of Silence</b> (<i>Oppenheimer</i>)</div>
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4. <b>Mad Max: Fury Road</b> (<i>Miller</i>)</div>
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5. <b>It Follows</b> (<i>Mitchell</i>)</div>
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6. <b>Victoria</b> (<i>Schipper</i>)</div>
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7. <b>Timbuktu</b> (<i>Sissako</i>)</div>
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8. <b>When Evening Falls on Bucharest or Metabolism</b> (<i>Porumboiu</i>) </div>
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9. <b>Spotlight</b> (<i>McCarthy</i>)</div>
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10. <b>Ex Machina</b> (<i>Garland</i>)</div>
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11. <b>Shaun the Sheep</b> (<i>Burton/Starzak</i>)</div>
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12. <b>Girlhood</b> (<i>Sciamma</i>)</div>
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<i>Honorable Mentions</i>: 45 Years (Haigh), Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem (<i>Elkabetz/Elkabetz</i>), Mistress America (<i>Baumbach</i>), Junun (<i>Anderson</i>)</div>
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<b><u>Best Unreleased Film</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyA7hawkUo2LAFgGgpuUki_4bRjGOU0WhQlRPXgibGFuiAnLUG6unMb8tX8awK4LNBI-KDqMaLDzF_XvPKT2-c0gzbYwKa-NMonTxGGl1BRW-xuPmS7qwjA02qMIuh4-gYRx7_NHKKlhk/s1600/whatsthetime.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyA7hawkUo2LAFgGgpuUki_4bRjGOU0WhQlRPXgibGFuiAnLUG6unMb8tX8awK4LNBI-KDqMaLDzF_XvPKT2-c0gzbYwKa-NMonTxGGl1BRW-xuPmS7qwjA02qMIuh4-gYRx7_NHKKlhk/s400/whatsthetime.png" width="400" /></a></div>
1. <b>What's the Time in Your World?</b> (<i>Yazdanian</i>)</div>
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2. <b>316 </b>(<i>Haghani</i>)</div>
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3. <b>The Treasure </b>(<i>Porumboiu</i>)</div>
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4. <b>The Club</b> (<i>Larraín</i>)</div>
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5. <b>I Want to Be a King</b> (<i>Ganji</i>)<br />
6. <b>Much Loved</b> (Ayouch) </div>
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<b><u>Best Director</u></b> </div>
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1. Miguel Gomes (<i>Arabian Nights</i>)</div>
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2. David Robert Mitchell (<i>It Follows</i>)</div>
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3. George Miller (<i>Mad Max: Fury Road</i>)</div>
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4. Todd Haynes (<i>Carol</i>) </div>
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5. Jessica Hausner (<i>Amour Fou</i>) </div>
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6. Sebastian Schipper (<i>Victoria</i>)</div>
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<b><u>Best Screenplay</u></b></div>
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1. When Evening Falls on Bucharest or Metabolism</div>
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2. Carol</div>
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3. 45 Years </div>
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4. Spotlight</div>
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5. Clouds of Sils Maria <br />
6. Wild Canaries</div>
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<b><u>Best Ensemble</u></b></div>
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1. Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem</div>
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2. Spotlight</div>
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3. Mustang</div>
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4. Tangerine</div>
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5. Carol</div>
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6. Magic Mike XXL</div>
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<b><u>Best Actor</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl43j9UITiocYvaMMVU3FZuOdF-PJLhuJ4ILHjSXYXP-2B_uzfPqIRtVnHZEaFxEPEOPbVPzCvMRNCR797TOG4j74DRETbyb7igFKtAU5Orp0CJCLr1csQR3FmqI56RccJArn90g7TDE8/s1600/buzzard.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl43j9UITiocYvaMMVU3FZuOdF-PJLhuJ4ILHjSXYXP-2B_uzfPqIRtVnHZEaFxEPEOPbVPzCvMRNCR797TOG4j74DRETbyb7igFKtAU5Orp0CJCLr1csQR3FmqI56RccJArn90g7TDE8/s400/buzzard.png" width="400" /></a></div>
1. Joshua Burge (<i>Buzzard</i>)</div>
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2. Jacob Tremblay (<i>Room</i>)</div>
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3. Michael B. Jordan (<i>Creed</i>)</div>
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4. Tom Courtenay (<i>45 Years</i>)</div>
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5. Ibrahim Ahmed (<i>Timbuktu</i>)<br />
6. Frederick Lau (<i>Victoria</i>) </div>
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<b><u>Best Actress</u></b></div>
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1. Rooney Mara (<i>Carol</i>)</div>
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2. Arielle Holmes (<i>Heaven Knows What</i>)</div>
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3. Laia Costa (<i>Victoria</i>)</div>
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4. Elizabeth Moss (<i>Queen of Earth</i>)</div>
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5. Charlotte Rampling (<i>45 Years</i>)</div>
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6. Cate Blanchett (<i>Carol</i>)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><u>Best Supporting Actor</u></b></div>
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1. Michael Keaton (<i>Spotlight</i>)</div>
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2. Liev Schrieber (<i>Spotlight</i>)</div>
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3. Mark Rylance (<i>Bridge of Spies</i>)</div>
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4. Omid "Filmi" (<i>Jafar Panahi's Taxi</i>)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
5. Benicio Del Toro (<i>Sicario</i>)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
6. Michael Stuhlbarg (<i>Steve Jobs</i>)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><u>Best Supporting Actress</u></b> </div>
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1. Alicia Vikander (<i>Ex Machina</i>)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
2. Kristen Stewart (<i>Clouds of Sils Maria</i>)<br />
3. Crista Alfaiate (<i>Arabian Nights: Vol. 1-3</i>)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
4. Katherine Waterston (<i>Queen of Earth</i>)</div>
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5. Cynthia Nixon (<i>James White</i>)</div>
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6. Greta Gerwig (<i>Mistress America</i>)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><u>Best Cinematography</u></b></div>
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1. Carol </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
2. Victoria </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
3. The Assassin</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Best Editing</u></b></div>
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1. It Follows</div>
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2. Mad Max: Fury Road</div>
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3. Results</div>
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<b><u>Best Production Design</u></b></div>
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1. Hateful Eight</div>
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2. Mad Max: Fury Road</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
3. Inside Out</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><u>Best Costume Design</u></b></div>
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1. Carol</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
2. The Assassin</div>
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3. Mommy</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Best Makeup</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4PjVNxaUoUYOniB1vFNFT-0FWutDrCd9NmyqH83H39LXHuwfpIByEPZsPJC-w88lNFRZITI01KOfBuqJRf46AK0T-C4whiBewi2TFLTJqrtJxZxxHJ987BbHmAruPP41RV90CQZ9lxKk/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-01-05+at+11.48.24+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4PjVNxaUoUYOniB1vFNFT-0FWutDrCd9NmyqH83H39LXHuwfpIByEPZsPJC-w88lNFRZITI01KOfBuqJRf46AK0T-C4whiBewi2TFLTJqrtJxZxxHJ987BbHmAruPP41RV90CQZ9lxKk/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-01-05+at+11.48.24+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
1. Mad Max: Fury Road</div>
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2. Amour Fou</div>
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3. The Duke of Burgundy</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><u>Best Visual Effects</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglb40-ljiREVWg8PaxwI59hpcwepit-N7gM2yOZDj11QZVqKYsr3wvCmUKdow3g9T0nYxLvgGxDx8Kw3VKkQwfsw-d2hnFaA6StnWNN9oWx3qtLqQZVwcbe9XWGz72M_9fIDZt3YeSFF8/s1600/exmachina.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglb40-ljiREVWg8PaxwI59hpcwepit-N7gM2yOZDj11QZVqKYsr3wvCmUKdow3g9T0nYxLvgGxDx8Kw3VKkQwfsw-d2hnFaA6StnWNN9oWx3qtLqQZVwcbe9XWGz72M_9fIDZt3YeSFF8/s400/exmachina.png" width="400" /></a></div>
1. Ex Machina</div>
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2. Mad Max: Fury Road</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
3. The Martian</div>
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<b><u>Best Music</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9I0AeLQSHFKObaDM6jSbUAiXhD7XFulp2nfXS_FOtdKsO9g0NYySowGB4iT1SFb-XCqgAjIaRYJd10GOIq3Zxyo9HU8DJrBMi25pYgKZQYzF0y0F0Kuu5iv6Ak45u1qLBezCf1CzMDc4/s1600/stevejobs.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9I0AeLQSHFKObaDM6jSbUAiXhD7XFulp2nfXS_FOtdKsO9g0NYySowGB4iT1SFb-XCqgAjIaRYJd10GOIq3Zxyo9HU8DJrBMi25pYgKZQYzF0y0F0Kuu5iv6Ak45u1qLBezCf1CzMDc4/s400/stevejobs.png" width="400" /></a></div>
1. Steve Jobs</div>
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2. It Follows</div>
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3. Carol</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><u>Best Sound Design</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhvzgby_-jA0C27mRN-AM8IDuR-Y42tVONM1ADHNyua63J4MsFGVbvU5KhWxLcLwpMjzLOyBJAeAWYqrzDbx5DgL_aCL9kAZoMlj2qXhEBgoRzfxXBObBgVeiJsqi-NM7f9zo6kQ8j-M/s1600/queenofearth.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMhvzgby_-jA0C27mRN-AM8IDuR-Y42tVONM1ADHNyua63J4MsFGVbvU5KhWxLcLwpMjzLOyBJAeAWYqrzDbx5DgL_aCL9kAZoMlj2qXhEBgoRzfxXBObBgVeiJsqi-NM7f9zo6kQ8j-M/s400/queenofearth.png" width="400" /></a></div>
1. Queen of Earth </div>
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2. Ex Machina</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
3. Junun</div>
<br />
<b><u>Caveats</u></b><br />
1. The list is limited to films that received a public theatrical screening
in New York City between January 1st, 2015 to December 31st, 2015.
Films that were released several years previously elsewhere have also
been excluded. (Long time readers of the blog know that had that not
been the case, <i>About Elly</i> would have dominated several of these categories). <br />
2. I have not yet seen <i>In Jackson Heights</i>, <i>The World of Tomorrow</i>, <i>Anomalisa</i>, <i>Love</i>, <i>Rams</i> and <i>L'il Quinquin</i>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-37559565914158710942016-01-05T22:19:00.001-05:002016-01-07T09:03:00.153-05:002015 Complete Screening LogThe past year was quite a strange one for me, marked by drastic, mostly negative changes in my personal life, and drastic, mostly positive changes in my professional life. I never write about my private life on the blog, and I'd like to keep things that way; as for my professional life, the aspects of it that relate to cinema are already known to any of you who still bother to drop by here and read the blog; namely, I worked with TIFF Cinematheque on their "I for Iran: A History of Iranian Cinema" series in multiple capacities, and served as the artistic director of the inaugural edition of the Cine-Iran Festival of Toronto, a position I will continue to hold over the coming years, hopefully.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5KiH1bjKvy6UZsRV5I4Mtdg5fKUwoJ5cTgXB7NIFv7yEqRBEDsZSZy7hYKgaMrVpy-1FM5ByOtFu9pTgjkc99aq-LQqi4_al0SRNqISe_ScABSpYXieoxpy5DEm121y6HPVpMmK6feI/s1600/kustu-underground.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5KiH1bjKvy6UZsRV5I4Mtdg5fKUwoJ5cTgXB7NIFv7yEqRBEDsZSZy7hYKgaMrVpy-1FM5ByOtFu9pTgjkc99aq-LQqi4_al0SRNqISe_ScABSpYXieoxpy5DEm121y6HPVpMmK6feI/s400/kustu-underground.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scene from Emir Kusturica's <i>Underground </i>(1995)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
All these changes had a significant impact on what films I watch and how I watch them. I watched even more Iranian films than before, for a start. I began to watch TV, which I had resisted for as long as I could due my inherent lack of focus and patience for longform storytelling. Yet, the medium is far more forgiving of a depressed mental state<strike> </strike>you'd always rather see old friends than new ones, especially when the world has turned on you, wouldn't you?<strike> </strike>so <i>Mad Men</i> and <i>Arrested Development </i>and <i>Bob's Burgers</i> and <i>BoJack Horseman</i> and <i>Making a Murderer</i> became a significant chunk of my diet.<br />
<br />
Still, I managed to watch 221 films, so I couldn't let the year go by without a final list. The large majority of my screenings were of new releases, but below are the top 15 older films I watched (or re-watched) in 2015 that I cherish most. You'll notice a lot of Iranian films on this list, but I guess that's what happens when you try to reacquaint yourself with your favourite national cinema. <br />
<br />
1. <b>Where's the Friend's Home </b>(Kiarostami, 1989)<br />
2. <b>Still Life </b>(Shahid Saless, 1974)<br />
3. <b>Underground</b> (Kusturica, 1995)<br />
4. <b>The Night It Rained</b> (Shirdel, 1967)<br />
5. <b>La Jetée </b>(Marker, 1962)<br />
6. <b>La Strada </b>(Fellini, 1954)<br />
7. <b>The Cow</b> (Mehrjui, 1969) <br />
8. <b>The Tenants</b> (Mehrjui, 1986)<br />
9. <b>Singin' in the Rain</b> (Kelly/Donen, 1952)<br />
10. <b>The Night of the Hunchbank</b> (Ghaffary, 1965) <br />
11. <b>About Elly</b> (Farhadi, 2009)<br />
12. <b>The Runner</b> (Naderi, 1985)<br />
13. <b>Secrets & Lies</b> (Leigh, 1996)<br />
14. <b>Beyond the Fire</b> (Ayari, 1990)<br />
15. <b>The Circle</b> (Panahi, 2000) <br />
<br />
<b><u>Complete list of 2015 screenings</u></b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2016/01/screening-log-december.html">December</a></span></i><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/12/screening-log-november.html">November</a></span></i><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/11/screening-log-october.html">October</a> </span></i><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/10/screening-log-september.html">September</a></span></i><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/09/screening-log-august.html">August</a></span></i><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/08/screening-log-july.html">July</a></span></i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/07/screening-log-june.html">June</a></span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/06/screening-log-may.html"><span style="font-size: medium;">May</span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/05/screening-log-april.html">April </a></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/04/screening-log-march.html">March</a></span></i><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/03/screening-log.html"><br />February</a></span></i><i><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/02/screening-log-january.html"><span style="font-size: medium;">January</span></a></i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-68737669431822228022016-01-01T23:20:00.000-05:002016-01-05T22:11:46.972-05:00Screening Log: December<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUGW-kbj5knLhXA8M9j4wVf3QB_JKK88B5AKa7oQA9v-9z96KLyeANcu6bt28Z5BpYKz0ak2uYa5F9cW4GvIb9NvFjYpm6I7fLA1EnKrV-y2-UzLPCY-dKT2Hv48akGPHJCJI53q6vWm0/s1600/carol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUGW-kbj5knLhXA8M9j4wVf3QB_JKK88B5AKa7oQA9v-9z96KLyeANcu6bt28Z5BpYKz0ak2uYa5F9cW4GvIb9NvFjYpm6I7fLA1EnKrV-y2-UzLPCY-dKT2Hv48akGPHJCJI53q6vWm0/s400/carol.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><u>The Revenant (Innaritu, 2015, 4.5)</u></b><br />
Innaritu is back to his miserablist worst. This is such a simple-minded exercise in violence and dreariness, it's hard to see past the hype about the authenticity of the whole enterprise. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Hateful Eight (Tarantino, 2015, 4.5)</u></b><br />
Perhaps the political themes of the film and their modern resonance will become clearer on a second screening, but it's going to be a while before that second screening happens. This was a long, brutal and dull film, without the chutzpah, humor and cleverness with which Tarantino made long, brutal films feel anything but dull in the past. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Big Short (McKay, 2015, 5.8)</u></b><br />
The type of film where the <i>most</i> of everything is on offer<strike> </strike>the most acting, the most editing, the most wig, the most fake tan, the most music, the most shrieking, the most machismo<strike> </strike>but the least reward is taken away. For all the information delivered Margot Robbie in the bathtub, McKay is clueless about how to make the impact of the financial crisis/fraud be felt in any meaningful way. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Heart of a Dog (Anderson, 2015, 5.5)</u></b><br />
A personal essay that surely feels more powerful, intimate and significant to Anderson than it does to the audience. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Straight Outta Compton (Gray, 2015, 7.6)</u></b><br />
The inaccuracies in the band's history, and (the deserved) accusations of misogyny aside, <i>Straight Outta Compton</i> is a powerful film. Its ensemble of cast of newcomers all deserve star roles in many films to come, particularly Jason Mitchell, whose turn as Eazy E captures the blend of bitterness and heartbreak that has become the man's legacy. It is also remarkable that the scenes of interaction between band members and the police and the chaotic environment of Compton at the time are still shocking to see on the screen. It's a testament to Gray's force behind the camera that despite the harrowing news one hears about the treatment of minorities by the police in America on a regular basis, the film never lets us feel desensitized to the injustice. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Results (Bujalski, 2015, 7.9)</u></b><br />
Such a delightful oddity! Bujalski's film never moves in the direction one expects it to, be it from shot to shot, or in the overall arc of its story, but it never loses sight of the story's ebbs and flows. Consistently funny and energetic, and surprisingly fresh with its gender politics. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem (Elkabetz/Elkabetz, 2015, 8.1)</u></b>
<br />
The archaic insanity and misogyny of fundamentalist religion knows no bounds; <i>Gett</i> knows how to perfectly channel the audience's rage through this story of Israel's broken justice system. The vast, rotating ensemble of performers are uniformly strong. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Blackhat (Mann, 2015, 5.7)</u></b>
<br />
There are individual sequences that are riveting in their intensity and
visual construction, but this is a profoundly stupid film.<br />
<br />
<b><u>45 Years (Haigh, 2015, 8.1)</u></b><br />
Andrew Haigh's follow-up to his brilliant debut, Weekend, proves that he
was no one-hit-wonder. His deep, empathetic understanding of human
emotions and relationships is one of a kind. This is a film that, with
the aid of two exceptional performances from Charlotte Rampling and Tom
Courtenay, shows fragile the strongest bonds can be and how complex love
truly is. It's an immensely moving film, made even more powerful with
its final shot. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Assassin (Hou, 2015, 7.0)</u></b><br />
Gorgeously shot and opulently designed, Hou's latest is a visual feast,
but the director's insistence on conveying moods and creating
atmospheres in this sparsely plotted film often comes at the expense of
his curiosity. <i>The Assassin</i> has a lot of potential for historical and political exploration. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Mend (Magary, 2015, N/A)</u></b><br />
It's entirely possible that on this particular night, my mood wasn't
right for this film. Equally, it is possible that The Mend is far more
deeply preoccupied with appearing bold and curious than with creating
fully realized characters and relationships. I bailed with twenty
minutes left on the clock, but nothing suggested that the finale would
engage me more than the sluggish, tonally confused build-up. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Maltese Falcon (Huston, 1941, 7.6) </u></b><br />
An impressive for Huston, though in retrospect that is no surprise, of
course. One of film noir's earliest example is a technically complex,
thrilling film, with a charming performance from Humphrey Bogart, but it
is undermined by the film's loose grasp of tone, often veering
suddenly, and needlessly, into comedy. The score is particularly at
fault. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Lobster (Lanthimos, 2015, 7.9)</u></b><br />
Darkly, absurdly comic in the fashion we've come to expect of Lanthimos
in the first half of the film, unexpectedly, tenderly romantic in the
second half. It's satirical, but also deeply honest and heartbreaking,
aided by two wonderful turns from Colin Farrell and Rachel Weisz. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Mistress America (Baumbach, 2015, 8.0)</u></b><br />
Like a less emotionally complex follow-up to <i>Frances Ha</i>, but
equally endearing and entertaining. This is a sharp and astute look at
the confusions of youth and one of the year's funniest films. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Carol (Haynes, 2015, 9.4)</u></b><br />
Haynes's sturdy formalism and the meticulousness of his storytelling is
such that when the emotional blows are delivered, one truly wonders how
and when so much deep, personal engagement with the film came to be.
Haynes remarkably depicts every specific emotion and memory associated
with love, the small, insignificant moments that linger when one is
truly in love, and most films skip over, become moments of majestic
grandeur in <i>Carol</i>. Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett are a dream. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Creed (Coogler, 2015, 8.1)</u></b><br />
The death of an American myth, the birth of an American dream.
Bombastic, sensational directing from Coogler; measured and careful
performances from Jordan, Thompson and Stallone. <i>Creed</i> deftly handles the literal and figurative passing of the baton from the old guard to today's generation. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Arabian Nights: Volume 3, The Enchanted One (Gomes, 2015, 9.4) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/12/arabian-nights-vol-3-enchanted-one.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"<i>Arabian Nights</i> is a work of grand
ambition, a film that is at once heartbreaking and confrontational,
transcendent but grounded in the mundane realities of living with
poverty. Gomes has made what will quite possibly be regarded as the
definitive film about the global economic crisis."<br />
<br />
<b><u>James White (Mond, 2015, 7.3)</u></b><br />
One of the strangest films of the year, and desperately begging for
repeated viewings to works its way into the audience's mind. Christopher
Abbott and Cynthia Nixon deliver stellar performances as a mother and
son in dire straights. James White is a powerful, intense and
overwhelming experience. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Room (Abrahamson, 2015, 7.0)</u></b><br />
The wheels fall off the film in the final third, but it's tender,
powerful and tense in the lead-up. Brie Larson is magnetic, as expected,
but the true revelation here is Jacob Tremblay, who delivers what has
to be one of the best child performances of all time. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Brooklyn (Crowley, 2015, 7.7)</u></b><br />
Saoirse Ronan is searing in her role as a new Irish immigrant to New York City in this charming, beautifully executed story. <i>Brooklyn</i>
is the type of film that could have been cheesy and ordinary in lesser
hands but is incredibly moving and powerful, even if it's not a
particularly inventive artistic accomplishment. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Arabian Nights: Volume 2, The Desolate One (Gomes, 2015, 9.4) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/12/arabian-nights-vol-2-desolate-one.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"The longing voice of
the narrator and Gomes’s romanticist touch paint a wistful,
heartbreaking picture of the sorrow that has taken root in the
community. Aided by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s tactile photography and the
director’s unparalleled knack for using pop tracks effectively, “The
Owners of Dixie” contains the most heartfelt and emotionally resonant
moments in the <i>Arabian Nights</i> epic, a majestic chapter that highlights the director’s humanist sensibilities."<br />
<br />
Total: 21 Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-44037250219614546682015-12-17T15:51:00.000-05:002015-12-17T15:51:36.375-05:00Arabian Nights: Vol. 3, The Enchanted One<div class="single-box clearfix entry-content" itemprop="articleBody">
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<br />
<i>*This review was originally published at <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/arabian-nights-vol-3-review/">Movie Mezzanine</a>. </i><br />
<br />
The first two volumes of Miguel Gomes’s latest film, <i>Arabian Nights</i>,
explore the crippling effects of economic mismanagement in Portugal,
ostensibly through the magical lens of Princess Scheherazade, who
narrates the tales to her husband, King Shahryar. The themes that Gomes
is exploring in both volumes are similar—the causes of the financial
meltdown as well as the human and emotional toll it has taken on
Portuguese people—but stylistically, the volumes are drastically
different. The omnibus films thus far have treated the audience to a
medley of genres and tones, from an observational documentary about
decaying shipyards in Viana do Castelo to the absurdist setting of a
courthouse in the “Tears of the Judge” chapter. The third volume is
comprised of fewer segments, but further expands the spectrum of Gomes’
experiment.<br />
<br />
<i>The Enchanted One</i> begins with what appears to be the most
faithful adaptation of the Middle Eastern folkloric tale that lends the
film its title. Scheherazade (Crista Alfaiate) imagines escaping the
grip of her husband to explore the sun-soaked sceneries of Baghdad and
the world beyond. In a moment that encapsulates Gomes’ consistently
exceptional use of pop music, an image of Scheherazade’s tearful face,
as she ponders the places she’ll never live to see, cuts to images from
the serene depths of the ocean, to the tune of Glenn Miller’s rendition
of “Perfidia.” Music plays an even more prominent role in this opening
chapter than the rest of the film; one particularly memorable sequence
superimposes the lives of Bohemian Persian nomads with a black and white
video of a Bahian rock band.<br />
<br />
Scheherazade’s sorrowful rumination on her life mirrors the
hopelessness of European youth today. The wistful, romantic mood of this
chapter doesn’t quite prepare the audience for the remainder of the
film: an 80-minute documentary about bird-trapping that, juxtaposed with
the non-fiction opening of Vol. 1, neatly bookends the film. “The
Inebriating Chorus of the Chaffinches” tells the story of bird-song
specialists, men who train chaffinches to sing in competitions held in a
suburb of Lisbon, near the southern coast of Portugal. The contests are
socially and historically significant, and date back to the post-WWI
era, when the country was recovering from another period of decline.<br />
<br />
This finale is a remarkably quiet way to close off what has thus far
been a rollercoaster of stories and emotions, though Gomes’s penchant
for formal and narrative experimentation is still evident. There are
elements of self-referentiality that connects this episode to the
previous volumes—Chapas, one of the leading bird song specialists, turns
out to be the man who played the role of Simao without Bowels in <i>The Desolate One</i>—and
his exceptional use of music culminates in the film’s bravura ending,
set to the tune of The Langley School Project’s “Calling Occupants of
Interplanetary Craft.”<br />
<br />
Yet, the closing chapter imposes tremendous emotional weight on the
audience precisely because it is somber and, on the surface, unassuming.
The plight of his countrymen is profoundly felt by Gomes, and he is
aware of his obligation to bring their pain to light. Consequently, this
three-part epic is as much about the enduring tragedy of Portugal’s
decline as it is about Gomes’ struggle to tell this necessary but
inherently unglamorous story. <i>Arabian Nights</i> is a work of grand
ambition, a film that is at once heartbreaking and confrontational,
transcendent but grounded in the mundane realities of living with
poverty. Gomes has made what will quite possibly be regarded as the
definitive film about the global economic crisis.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-10765886983653816612015-12-11T13:30:00.000-05:002015-12-11T13:40:22.893-05:00Arabian Nights: Vol. 2, The Desolate One<div class="single-box clearfix entry-content" itemprop="articleBody">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlgGdCkCN08y99mh3079YEXH0P-f6acr4-5e0vQUj0GOeKGgGpB2uJ4IFNHzyIpQJdHBVwSOUSOqCa7mLSzjeevkGYk2JDnpFLMqdYLcQNkUJuAkopOd1YfSftREOV-KwhwYimHofmeE/s1600/arabiannights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlgGdCkCN08y99mh3079YEXH0P-f6acr4-5e0vQUj0GOeKGgGpB2uJ4IFNHzyIpQJdHBVwSOUSOqCa7mLSzjeevkGYk2JDnpFLMqdYLcQNkUJuAkopOd1YfSftREOV-KwhwYimHofmeE/s400/arabiannights.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>*This review was originally written for <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/arabian-nights-vol-2-review/">Movie Mezzanine</a>. </i><br />
<br />
The first volume of Miguel Gomes’s sprawling epic, <i>Arabian Nights</i>,
has the unenviable task of bringing the audience on board with the
filmmaker’s wild vision and convince them to remain on board for another
four hours. Establishing his perspective alongside Princess
Scheherazade’s–the storyteller within the story–the episodes contained
in the first volume vary significantly in tone, mode, and genre. In
comparison, the second volume, <i>The Desolate One</i>, is relatively
straightforward. Consisting only of three episodes, the middle film
continues Gomes’s critique of Portugal’s economic policies and his study
of the social and moral implications of poverty.<br />
<br />
In “The Chronicle of the Escape of Simao Without Bowels,” the titular
protagonist is an old, hardened criminal on the run from the police.
Having murdered his wife and two kids, the man—who is given the nickname
because of his lean physique—wanders in rural pastures as he evades
arrest, but when he eventually succumbs to authorities, the villagers
gather to applaud him as a hero. The acerbic humor of this chapter is
pointed, damning at once of the failures of Portugal’s judicial and
police systems, and of the state’s lack of popularity among the
Portuguese people. Monsters aren’t just forgiven; they’re idolized if
they stand up to the government.<br />
<br />
The second chapter is thematically similar, if drastically different
in tone. The setting of “Tears of the Judge” is an outdoor courthouse,
in which a small crime—theft of household items by a tenant—is being
adjudicated. The hilariously convoluted plot moves around the courtroom
and incriminates everyone present as the maze created by the theft and
its background gets increasingly complex. Gomes’s finger is pointed at
the deep-rooted corruption and the needlessly complex bureaucracy of his
country. The austerity measures imposed on the Portuguese by greedy
politicians and foreign investors are blatantly, though with tongue
firmly in cheek, incriminated; and further yet, the broad scope of this
absurdist chapter allows the filmmaker to poke fun at entrenched sexism
and racism within Portuguese society.<br />
<br />
The third chapter ends the film in stark contrast with the previous
two. In “The Owners of Dixie,” Gomes enters an apartment complex where
the inhabitants are suffering from the effects of the financial crisis.
Structured as several small vignettes about different residents in the
building, our perspective is mostly that of a poodle named Dixie, at
first owned by an elderly couple, then passed around to new owners who
turn to another woman for help with the animal. In the process, these
working-class characters open up with their heartbreaking stories.<br />
<br />
This finale is similar in tone to the second chapter of Gomes’s previous film, <i>Tabu</i>.
It’s tinged with a bitter sense of nostalgia for better times gone by,
when the neighbours would gather for New Year parties, and Brazilian
nudists would camp on the rooftop of the building. The longing voice of
the narrator and Gomes’s romanticist touch paint a wistful,
heartbreaking picture of the sorrow that has taken root in the
community. Aided by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s tactile photography and the
director’s unparalleled knack for using pop tracks effectively, “The
Owners of Dixie” contains the most heartfelt and emotionally resonant
moments in the <i>Arabian Nights</i> epic, a majestic chapter that highlights the director’s humanist sensibilities.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-80818663018343035512015-12-04T15:31:00.001-05:002015-12-04T15:31:31.102-05:00Arabian Nights: Volume 1, The Restless One<div class="single-box clearfix entry-content" itemprop="articleBody">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSkpg1Q8szacnhYCA70GqqI8pjf_R7ipWjlm0VCA08Vcarxu5Vg7r9P2gCvwXqqZlwZcDC4qlu0Ld3DIli16TpBypS0_5eWYL6KPvlgiDk2ivwrQMnfrzd1O5YjWrl-Iss1dydJxChIs/s1600/1c8a5f40d387ca5558ec99abfe3cc8ea.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSkpg1Q8szacnhYCA70GqqI8pjf_R7ipWjlm0VCA08Vcarxu5Vg7r9P2gCvwXqqZlwZcDC4qlu0Ld3DIli16TpBypS0_5eWYL6KPvlgiDk2ivwrQMnfrzd1O5YjWrl-Iss1dydJxChIs/s400/1c8a5f40d387ca5558ec99abfe3cc8ea.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<em><br /></em>
<em>*This review was originally published at <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/arabian-nights-vol-1-review/">Movie Mezzanine</a>. </em><br />
<em><br /></em>
<em>The Restless One</em>, the first of three volumes that comprise Miguel Gomes’ ambitious six-hour long omnibus <em>Arabian Nights</em>,
begins at a shipyard in Viana do Castelo, Portugal. The decaying
infrastructure of the port and the frank, solemn tenor of the narrators’
voices as they describe the decline of the shipyard convey the gloomy
mood of a country that has fallen victim to economic misery. The sense
of aimlessness and desperation is palpably captured in extreme long
shots that capture hundreds of men wandering around the harbor.<br />
<br />
Of course, nothing can prepare the audience for what turn the man behind films like <em>Our Beloved Month of August</em> and <em>Tabu</em>
might take and, true to form, Gomes subverts the expectations set by
the opening few minutes by breaking down the fourth wall and entering
his film. The fictional Gomes is a director on the run, and is
eventually punished for the extravagance and reverie of his filmic
ambitions in a country where strict economic pressures are imposed. This
hilarious storytelling detour shows a level of self-awareness that runs
through the entire <em>Arabian Night</em> opus. Gomes’s wildest, most
auspicious and gloriously messy film to date borrows the structure of
the eponymous Middle Eastern collection of folkloric tales, but
appropriated to modern Portugal under the government’s extreme austerity
measures.<br />
<br />
Commercial requirements have forced the film to be marketed as a
trilogy—a fate that the film’s director doesn’t necessarily view as a
hindrance—but the coherence in the structure of <em>Arabian Nights</em>
only becomes clear over the course of the three films. Each volume can
be studied as a separate entity and because of the episodic nature of
the narrative each feels like a self-contained feature. But it is in
conjunction with one another that the films reveal their thematic
resonance and stylistic grandeur. <em>The Restless One</em> provides the
underlying context of Portugal’s financial crisis and introduces us to
Princess Scheherazade, the Persian wife of King Shahryar, who narrated
stories to her husband over one thousand and one nights. The framing
device and the poverty—economic, moral, and, consequently,
emotional—felt in Portugal today establishes the audience’s grasp on the
film’s continuously varying perspectives and tonal shifts.<br />
<br />
In Scheherazade’s first tale, <em>The Men with Hard-ons</em>, Gomes
farcically criticizes the political corruption that has led to economic
disparity in Portugal. During a meeting between Portuguese ministers,
European politicians, and a banker, the men are given a potion by an
African magician that gives them powerful and lasting boners. The
metaphor for greed among the elite is evident. That the sequence’s blunt
satire is so lacking in subtlety is further emphasized as the film
progresses, but Gomes’s capability to draw in the audience to stories
that are individually so magnetic is such that the tonal shifts feel
seamless.<br />
<br />
The final chapter in this volume, <em>The Swim of the Magnificents</em>,
returns the film to the form of docu-fiction again. Structured around
three interviews with men and women who have lost their jobs, the
conversations are raw, confrontational and painfully heartfelt. Gomes
finds the depth of agony amongst his people and observantly studies the
drastic effects of poverty on relationships and mental health. But the
chapter, and consequently the volume, ends with a celebratory ritual—a
coming together of downtrodden people on a beach for a collective moment
of festivities. It’s a spiritual experience that transcends material
concerns and a cinematic closure that is quite fitting. The moment of
respite from the troubles of the real world is fleeting, only until
Scheherazade returns with another tale.<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-23641948795400241522015-12-01T18:00:00.000-05:002016-01-05T22:10:55.825-05:00Screening Log: November<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGqO8j12ByamHdKvBKfg9ev01PIzw5BRLD3nuTBlNUyH_N54QlGNEpPFpIwkVxCHPrtIfx4VWSh60hz4Xw79k_jO_MD0QoIwTGdKj0PECjLjr_u_m040ZpHccN3qg4E6ezWFP45Ox16s0/s1600/139310281548211134544404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGqO8j12ByamHdKvBKfg9ev01PIzw5BRLD3nuTBlNUyH_N54QlGNEpPFpIwkVxCHPrtIfx4VWSh60hz4Xw79k_jO_MD0QoIwTGdKj0PECjLjr_u_m040ZpHccN3qg4E6ezWFP45Ox16s0/s400/139310281548211134544404.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><u>Arabian Nights: Volume 1, The Restless One (Gomes, 2015, 9.4) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/12/arabian-nights-volume-1-restless-one.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"Gomes’s wildest, most
auspicious and gloriously messy film to date borrows the structure of
the eponymous Middle Eastern collection of folkloric tales, but
appropriated to modern Portugal under the government’s extreme austerity
measures."<br />
<br />
<b><u>What's the Time in Your World? (Yazdanian, 2015, 9.0)</u></b><br />
Safi Yazdanian's first film is an enchanting story of love, loss and the bittersweet emotions of returning home as an emigre. Superbly acted by the trio of Leila Hatami, Ali Mosaffa and Zahra Hatami and aided by Christophe Rezaei's charming score and elements of magical realism, Yazdanian's French-tinged exploration of the northern Iranian milieu is cinematically impeccable and, for personal reasons, emotionally resonant for me. <br />
<br />
<b><u>316 (Haghani, 2015, 8.7)</u></b><br />
The premise of an experimental film that tells a woman's story from birth to death through her shoes doesn't quite prepare the audience for the tenderness, humour and insight in <i>316</i>. Haghani's film, devoid of any faces and with the camera mostly pointed at the feet and shoes of all characters, is a visionary work that deserves a lot more attention that it has internationally received. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Oblivion Season (Rafei, 2015, 7.1)</u></b><br />
<i>Oblivion Season</i>'s de-saturated palette and thoughtful framing elevate a story that is otherwise somewhat tired in Iranian cinema, the added twist in this story of a woman fighting against a society that views her as second class is that her past as a sex worker deprives her of respect and trust even from those closest to her. Yet, the star of the show is clearly Sareh Bayat, whose sensational performance makes the character compelling, layered and sympathetic. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Two (Golestani, 2015, 5.5)</u></b><br />
Golestani's first try behind the camera is technically impressive but the story's immense potential for thematic exploration is undermined by vague narrative construction and a truncated ending. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Taboo (Masoumi, 2015, 4.0)</u></b><br />
Masoumi's film is gorgeously shot, but it's impossible to save the film from its archaic gender politics, cliched plot turns and shrill tone of writing and acting. <br />
<br />
<b><u>I Want to Be a King (Ganji, 2015, 8.7)</u></b><br />
At once hilarious and harrowing, Ganji's documentary about a business owner in the suburbs of Shiraz is comedy gold, but also successful at subtly conveying the horrors of living with emotional abuse. The uniqueness of the subject matter, the intimate access of the filmmaker and the wild personality of the man at the film's centre make this one of the best documentaries to come out of Iran in a long time. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Jameh-Daraan (Ghotbi, 2015, 7.5)</u></b><br />
An unexpected delight. Ghotbi's period drama about hidden identities and mysterious pasts digs deep into the problematic side-effects of patriarchy and gender inequality and the personal toll of the trauma it causes. Slick, elegant and polished in production and featuring outstanding performances across the board, particularly from Baran Kowsari and Pegah Ahangarani, <i>Jameh-Daraan</i> is much stronger film that it will get credit for. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Ashkan, the Charmed Ring and Other Stories (Mokri, 2009, 7.9)</u></b><br />
Continuing Mokri's interest in challenging storytelling conventions in cinema that he had exhibited in his early short films, <i>Ashkan</i>'s multi-faceted narrative forces the audience to reconsider the effect of each individual frame in their perception and understanding the story. Details that would be overlooked in other films gain significance here even for any viewer with an untrained eye. <i>Ashkan</i> announced Mokri as one of the most exciting new voices in Iranian cinema. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Confessions of My Dangerous Mind (Seyyedi, 2015, 6.3)</u></b><br />
Seyyedi's work in subgenres that are generally foreign to Iranian cinema merits attention, and <i>Confessions</i>' hyper-stylized camerawork, lighting and editing are worthy efforts, but the plot's neat tricks have been explored by several filmmakers in the past couple of decades (most notably Christopher Nolan in <i>Memento</i>) and the film is rather thin thematically. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Night Shift (Karimi, 2015, 7.7)</u></b><br />
Even stronger on a second screening, Karimi's exquisitely controlled direction is masterful and the performances are intense and magnetic. Iranian cinema has no shortage of marital dramas, but this level of empathetic scrutiny is a rare gift. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Death of the Fish (Hejazi, 2015, 7.7)</u></b><br />
"Hejazi's first three films were all interesting misfires, but <i>Death of the Fish</i>
is a massive leap forward. Featuring a staggering ensemble cast and a
keen eye for small moments of tender human connection between its
characters, the film's sparse narrative crawls under our screen and
lingers long after. A genuinely moving story about loss and grief."<br />
<br />
<b><u>I am Diego Maradona (Tavakoli, 2015, 8.1)</u></b><br />
Relentlessly energetic and overwhelmingly talky, Tavakoli's ensemble comedy is what, to characterize it in reductive terms, we would have if Charlie Kaufman and Pedro Almodovar collaborated on an Iranian film; and <i>I am Diego Maradona</i> is exactly as glorious as that sounds. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Spotlight (McCarthy, 2015, 8.5)</u></b><br />
Smartly written screenplay, carefully considered politics, superb
individual performances that gel together seamlessly in the ensemble and
the understated but measured direction of McCarthy make Spotlight one
of the best American films of the year. This is an intelligent,
thrilling and important film, and an emotionally powerful one. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Where's the Friend's Home? (Kiarostami, 1989, 9.8)</u></b><br />
Truly one of the greatest films ever made. <br />
<br />
<b><u>10 on Ten (Kiarostami, 2004, 6.8)</u></b><br />
Kiarostami's video essay on filmmaking is rather monotonous, but his
sense of humour and the wealth of his knowledge about the medium make
this an essential film for all cinephiles. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Mustang (Erguven, 2015, 7.6) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/11/mustang.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"<i>Mustang </i>would be a brave film for any director, but
particularly so for a Middle-Eastern woman making her first film. Being
from Turkey—a country where, much like the rest of the region, the
burden of representation is always heavy on the shoulders of
artists—telling the story of women’s oppression so boldly is no easy
feat."<br />
<br />
<b><u>In the Realm of the Senses (Oshima, 1976, 7.7)</u></b><br />
Notions of devotion and sacrifice in love in Japanese folklore have been
always been of particular interest to me for their proximity to similar
ideas in Iranian culture, and In the Realm of the Sense was an
interesting case in point. The film's emotional authenticity intensifies
as the story progresses, along with the connection between the main
characters. By the end, even the gruesome finale is tempered by the
tenderness of the moment the lovers share. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Bridge of Spies (Spielberg, 2015, 7.3)</u></b><br />
For the majority of the film, until the second part of the third act,
there is a curious lack of tension in the story, but Spielberg's
construction of moods and spaces is brilliant, as are the performances
of Tom Hanks and Mark Rylance. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Junun (Anderson, 2015, 7.9)</u></b><br />
Paul Thomas Anderson's foray into documentary filmmaking is a near
spiritual experience. Anderson's approach is smartly unobtrusive,
allowing the magic of the moment and the sheer power of the music to
take centre stage.<br />
<br />
Total: 20Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-44792402522395402332015-11-22T14:00:00.000-05:002015-11-22T14:00:03.461-05:00Mustang<i>*This review was originally published at <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/mustang-review/">Movie Mezzanine</a>. </i><br />
<br />
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<br />
It is not every day that phrases such as
Islamic extremism and light-hearted fun can be used in the same
sentence. Looking at the misogynistic, archaic thinking of religious
communities through the lens of comedy is a tricky balance, and even
more so for a debut filmmaker. Yet, that is just what Deniz Gamze
Ergüven does in her joyous, beautiful, and heartbreaking first film, <em>Mustang</em>.<br />
<em><br /></em>
<em>Mustang </em>begins with Lale and her four older sisters on their
way home from school on a sun-soaked afternoon in rural Turkey. Before
reaching their destination, they play around in the water at a beach
with their classmates, some of them boys, fully clothed. The scene and
the kids are youthful and full of energy. If anything about their
excursion is conspicuous, it’s their childlike innocence, but when a
neighbor notifies the girls’ grandmother of their beachside diversion,
they are punished and locked inside their sprawling house, banned from
attending school again.<br />
<br />
Lale, Nur, Ece, Selma and Sonay live with their uncle and
grandmother, having lost both their parents. The environment of the
house becomes increasingly oppressive, its day-to-day proceedings
resembling, in Lale’s words, “a wife factory.” The heartwarming and
commendable defiance of the girls is met with increasingly oppressive
measures. Sneaking through the windows to see a boyfriend or attend a
football match is met with the installation of iron railing against the
windows to lock the girls in. What begins as a seemingly temporary
punishment for inappropriate behaviour takes on a progressively sinister
face as the family plunges deeper into the routine. If the cooking and
sewing lessons appear to be a substitute for formal schooling at first,
they gain new meaning when the family matriarch allows suitors into the
house for her teenaged granddaughters.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Ergüven gets remarkably powerful performances from this cast of
newcomers. Each actor creates a fully realized, layered character that
merits their own individual narratives. As a group of strongly bonded
sisters, they share their anger, grief, and rebelliousness in harmony.
Ergüven further shows a deft hand at conveying the dark subject matter
with a light tone. Her film exposes the systemic failures of many rural,
religious communities across the Middle East, where anachronistic ideas
about femininity and chastity still persist. She discusses the
traumatic consequences and suicidal tendencies of repression and forced
marriage on young girls. Yet, the film projects nothing but warmth and
light onto the audience. Despite the final turn of the plot succumbing
to a rather hokey escape and chase set-up, the narrative’s conviction
that the desire for freedom will be triumphant is quite empowering.<br />
<em><br /></em>
<em>Mustang </em>would be a brave film for any director, but
particularly so for a Middle-Eastern woman making her first film. Being
from Turkey—a country where, much like the rest of the region, the
burden of representation is always heavy on the shoulders of
artists—telling the story of women’s oppression so boldly is no easy
feat. Ergüven’s intimate treatment of the material and the complexity
with which she portrays the young girls’ growth and liberation make this
one of the most compelling feminist films of recent years.<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18020353452342466531noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-19440803148854665012015-11-01T13:41:00.000-05:002016-01-05T22:08:52.441-05:00Screening Log: October<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZh9Rf5Ul7E1e7KBcjD0BjJUDQ39IU5lal_sBOrr04URUlcFaoQsv1GJcUfAxqDvVX3idzjCv59pEatvb3i2hDOMw3sTf1KiTRxYBEIg0krGrU70lpll5DFpCaNlF0dkrGoxtQlL_4fQ/s1600/1674772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpZh9Rf5Ul7E1e7KBcjD0BjJUDQ39IU5lal_sBOrr04URUlcFaoQsv1GJcUfAxqDvVX3idzjCv59pEatvb3i2hDOMw3sTf1KiTRxYBEIg0krGrU70lpll5DFpCaNlF0dkrGoxtQlL_4fQ/s400/1674772.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am Diego Maradona</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><u>A Nos Amours (Pialat, 1983, 7.9)</u></b><br />
My first experience with Maurice Pialat's career is a film that makes me want to dive into his works. Tender, observant and soaked in sunlit beauty, A Nos Amours is a quiet gem. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Night Shift (Karimi, 2014, 7.7)</u></b><br />
Once the greatest star of Iranian Cinema, Niki Karimi's recent shift to directing has proved her to be one of the most keen observers of women's issues in Iranian cinema, not that <i>Night Shift</i>'s male protagonist is at all short on complexity. This is a challenging and thought provoking marital drama and superbly acted by Leila Zare and Mohammad Reza Foroutan. <br />
<br />
<b><u>I am Diego Maradona (Tavakoli, 2015, 8.0)</u></b><br />
Tavakoli is truly one of the most exciting voices emerging in Iranian cinema today. <i>Diego Maradona</i>'s theatrical structure, wacky effects and never-ending dialogue will no doubt be irritating for some, but if you're on the same wavelength, this is a near masterpiece. This brand of innovative storytelling is something Iranian cinema has sorely lacked, and it's all the better for its appearance. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Death of the Fish (Hejazi, 2015, 7.9)</u></b><br />
Hejazi's first three films were all interesting misfires, but <i>Death of the Fish</i> is a massive leap forward. Featuring a staggering ensemble cast and a keen eye for small moments of tender human connection between its characters, the film's sparse narrative crawls under our screen and lingers long after. A genuinely moving story about loss and grief. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Magic Mike XXL (Jacobs, 2015, 7.1)</u></b><br />
Not quite as moving or profound as the first installment but a hell of a lot of fun, with an array of memorable sequences that are endlessly rewatchable, the supermarket scene and the gathering at Andie MacDowell's house chief among them. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Martian (Scott, 2015, 7.3)</u></b><br />
Ridley Scott is such a capable director at making fun films that don't need to create or capture a mythology and does one of his best recent works here.<i> </i>The same can more or less be said of Matt Damon, whose charming turn is among his strongest performances. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Sicario (Villeneuve, 2015, 7.6)</u></b><br />
Although the film's positions on the war on drugs--however vaguely defined and superficial--are questionable, as a formal achievement, <i>Sicario</i> is quite incredible. Villeneuve and team have created a gorgeous, tense and engaging film. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Crazy Rook (Davoodi, 2015, 6.7)</u></b><br />
Extremely contrived plotting, but nevertheless consistently thrilling and unpredictable. No surprise that the ensemble cast of some of the most talented young actors in Iran play so energetically off each other, balancing the film's tricky back and forth between twisted crime narrative and campy horror. This is a total crowd-pleaser. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Circle (Panahi, 2000, 9.0)</u></b><br />
"The bleak picture painted of the lives of lower-class women in <i>The Circle</i> is troubling to watch, but not because the
film is blunt in its presentation; rather, the effect of the characters’
devastating stories crawls under our skin and lingers long after the
film."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Taxi (Panahi, 2015, 6.8) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/10/the-panahi-conundrum.html">essay</a>)</u></b><br />
<i>"Taxi</i> is engaging and, for the most part, very funny, but by
its episodic nature, tonally inconsistent, resulting in a film that is
occasionally brilliant, but frequently frustrating. For an artist
previously so attuned to the intricacies of his society, <i>Taxi</i>
is uncharacteristically patronizing...The succession of stories that Panahi has collected gives the
impression that he’s running through a checklist of issues and
stereotypes about Iranian society, but rarely does the film arrive at
anything profound."<br />
<br />
Total: 10 Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-78360779849326114582015-10-10T11:00:00.000-04:002015-10-10T14:05:04.529-04:00The Panahi Conundrum<i>*This piece was originally written for <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/jafar-panahi-essay/">Movie Mezzanine</a>, on the occasion of the release of Jafar Panahi's </i>Taxi<i>. </i><br />
<br />
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<br />
Take a cursory look at reviews for Jafar Panahi’s latest film, <i>Taxi</i>,
and you’ll notice it ranks among the year’s most beloved titles.
Between its premiere at the Berlinale earlier this year, where it was
greeted with the festival’s highest prize, to its theatrical release in
North America last week, few Western critics have anything negative to
say about it. Yet, despite what one may expect, Iranian critics have not
been similarly enthusiastic. This variance in response has as much to
do with the film as an individual work of art as it does with Panahi’s
career and his politics. To understand this cool critical reaction, it’s
necessary to understand the social machinations that gave birth to <i>Taxi</i>.<br />
<br />
When Panahi started his career two decades ago, Iranian cinema was at
the peak of its artistic renaissance and international acclaim. With
his directorial debut <i>The White Balloon</i>, he burst onto the
scene as one of the most promising filmmakers at a time when Iran was
producing films at a dizzying pace. Compared to the heights of the
mid-1990s, Iran’s national cinema has been in decline for the past few
years. If not for a handful of veteran directors and an even smaller
group of emerging youngsters, Iranian cinema would suffer irreparable
artistic regression. If there has been a single director whose
consistency in producing challenging works exemplifies the national
cinema’s defiance against its own malaise, it’s Panahi.<br />
<br />
Having previously won the Camera d’or for <i>The White Balloon</i> and Golden Lion for <i>The Circle</i>, Panahi added the Berlin Golden Bear this year for <i>Taxi</i>,
to his ever-expanding collection of festival trophies. Yet, despite the
continued reverence of his work abroad, his relationship with audiences
and critics at home has never been as complicated as today, a fate
indebted in no small part to the aftermath of his political activism.
Following his participation in a protest rally on the streets of Tehran
back in 2009, Panahi was arrested and later slapped with a severe
sentence that included house arrest and a 20-year ban on filmmaking.
Ironically, Panahi has made films at a faster pace than ever before
since the ban was first imposed, and his cinema has become, for better
and for worse, intertwined with his real-life situation.<br />
<br />
With <i>This Is Not a Film</i>, his first film under house arrest,
Panahi demarcated his career into pre- and post-ban chapters. A
rapid-fire reaction to his legal predicament, Panahi’s first documentary
was a forced turning of the lens onto himself. He re-enacted the script
of his would-be next film in his living room, filming on his cell phone
and narrating the plot. The result was sharp and bitterly funny, even
though Panahi’s anger and frustration was palpable. It was surprising,
though not unexpected, to discover that a director long considered to be
one of Iran’s “social filmmakers,” in the local parlance, had actually
never made a film so blatantly critical. Despite their darkness and
unrelenting pessimism, films like <i>The Circle</i> and <i>Crimson Gold</i>
were subtle commentaries on the problems that plague Iranian society.
The bleak picture painted of the lives of lower-class women in the
former film, for example, is troubling to watch, but not because the
film is blunt in its presentation; rather, the effect of the characters’
devastating stories crawls under our skin and lingers long after the
film. Conversely, <i>Offside</i>’s rebellious stance against women’s
second-class status was wrapped in the guise of an energetic comedy, a
blissfully indirect approach to social cinema. <i>This Is Not a Film</i>’s
uncharacteristic forthrightness was understandable because of the
special circumstances under which it was made, and the film evolved
Panahi’s themes and style.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Closed Curtain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><i>Closed Curtain</i>, his second film to be made within the
confines of a single house—this time a villa by the Caspian Sea—was an
absurdist hybrid of fiction and documentary. It was the director’s first
attempt at breaking the barrier between these two modes since his
second film, <i>The Mirror</i>, in which the lead actress breaks from
character to tell the camera that she will no longer perform, thus
changing the course of the film. <i>Closed Curtain</i> is Panahi’s
most inspired film, one that encapsulates both his audacity in revealing
suicidal tendencies and his unwavering defiance against all odds. It is
the director’s most formally ambitious exercise, and brims with
emotionally tender moments. And, significantly, it channels the same
critical views as <i>This Is Not a Film</i>, but in subtle and creative ways that are nearly miraculous given Panahi’s limited possibilities. The narrative complexity of <i>Closed Curtain</i>
and Panahi’s innovative approach to circumventing the limitations put
on his freedom of expression promised a new and exciting direction for
the filmmaker. And then came <i>Taxi</i>.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Taxi </i>is the director’s most entertaining and accessible
film. The premise is simple: Panahi drives across Tehran in a cab with a
camera attached to his dashboard. Some passengers are unaware of or
oblivious to the camera, others point to it knowingly. Some seemingly
don’t recognize Panahi, others are friends or family members, such as
his niece, Hana, who is a young, loquacious, aspiring filmmaker, and by
far the film’s best performer. Formally, the film is reminiscent of
Abbas Kiarostami’s <i>Ten</i>—and it isn’t the first time Panahi has
been inspired by the works of his mentor, for whom he served as
assistant director before embarking on his own filmmaking career, which
included directing two of Kiarostami’s screenplays, <i>The White Balloon</i> and <i>Crimson Gold</i>.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Taxi</i> is engaging and, for the most part, very funny, but by
its episodic nature, tonally inconsistent, resulting in a film that is
occasionally brilliant, but frequently frustrating. For an artist
previously so attuned to the intricacies of his society, <i>Taxi</i>
is uncharacteristically patronizing. Panahi, and his film by extension,
smirk at some of the passengers. Two elderly ladies who ask to be taken
to the ancient Ali’s Spring, for a superstitious ritual, are implicitly
mocked and thrown out of the car. Self-referentiality, a trademark of
the director’s style, has given way to navel-gazing—a reference to <i>Crimson Gold</i> is delivered with a knowing wink at the audience, a moment that almost borders on parody.<br />
<br />
The succession of stories that Panahi has collected gives the
impression that he’s running through a checklist of issues and
stereotypes about Iranian society, but rarely does the film arrive at
anything profound. Merely pointing out that there is poverty, crime,
censorship, theft, oppression, or superstition leads to individual
encounters that are alternately entertaining and infuriating, but the
whole is less than the sum of its parts. Panahi’s collection of stories,
or more accurately, grievances, is presented with little formal
curiosity and even smaller emotional resonance.<br />
<br />
In one particular encounter, Panahi meets an old neighbor whom he
hasn’t seen in several years. The awkward meeting lasts only a few
minutes, during which the neighbor shows security footage of himself
being beaten by thugs who want his money. The sequence is clearly staged
to deliver a message, which the film may as well shout through a
megaphone, instead of having the neighbor painfully verbalize it:
Criminals look like us and live among us, but hardship leads them to
commit crime. That Panahi goes out of his way, literally and
metaphorically, to state the obvious with the forced inclusion of this
sequence is quite baffling, but this is not the biggest culprit among the
film’s slight “message moments.”<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taxi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A prolonged conversation between Hana and Panahi about the censorship
system in Iranian cinema is where the film’s lack of subtlety becomes
exasperating. That the authoritarian, restrictive measures would appear
amusing and contradictory even to a child is the point, but Panahi’s
assumption that Hana’s prodding with rhetorical questions adds thematic
depth to the film is misguided, and the scene is underwhelming at best.
All the more so because an earlier scene, wherein Hana films a young boy
stealing money on the street, gets to the same point in a funnier,
sharper and more delicate tone.<br />
<br />
The pickpocket sequence is reminiscent of the sly humor and creative
intelligence in Panahi’s earlier work. The same qualities can be
ascribed to the two scenes that bookend the film: a sudden dive into
Tehran’s effervescent cab culture in the beginning and a bravura remark
on Panahi’s troubles with authorities at the end. But the introduction
of beloved lawyer and political activist, Nasrin Sotoudeh, as one of the
passengers, late in the film, is a scene that can be alternately viewed
as heartwarming—witnessing her in high spirits after enduring her own
prison sentence is a genuine delight—or painfully corny. Panahi’s choice
of performer—coupled with her obvious characterization as a harbinger
of hope, “the lady with a bouquet of roses”—is a cheap invitation for
applause from Iranian progressives.<br />
<br />
Such socio-political nuances are keenly felt among Iranians, and
naturally provoke a stronger emotional response in the home audience.
Yet, it is worth noting that, the particulars of <i>Taxi</i> aside,
Panahi was already climbing an uphill battle for approval among some
Iranians. There are as many people who sympathize with his struggle as
those who think his films are now being over-rewarded by festivals and
critics because of a situation that has been blown out of proportion.
Certainly, it is true that Panahi’s ban is no longer as strict as it
originally appeared. And while no one doubts that there are restrictions
put on him—his films cannot be released in Iran, and he is not allowed
to leave the country—to argue that the continued production of his films
still blindsides authorities is simply naïve. It is plausible to assume
that an unspoken agreement has been achieved, under which
everyone—Panahi, the authorities and cinephiles—is a winner. Whatever
the case may be, some of Panahi’s critics in the Iranian community have
begun to view the director as something of an opportunist who is
profiting off an image that is no longer current, without attempting to
correct it. For this group of viewers, there is a prevailing sense that
extra-textual factors play a significant part in the warm reception that
Panahi’s films receive.<br />
<br />
It is difficult to tell whether such drastic views are entirely or
only partially misguided, given the vague details of Panahi’s sentence,
but it’s inarguable that sympathy with the artist, consciously or
subconsciously, hasn’t been unhelpful in responding to his work. Such
considerations shouldn’t normally come into play when assessing art,
except for the fact that Panahi has placed his life front and center in
his films. His art doesn’t so much imitate life as it has become it, so
it is increasingly difficult to disassociate his films from the man
himself. That <i>Taxi</i>, Panahi’s least ambitious film, has been
showered with acclaim and the Berlin gong has reinforced the view among
his critics that even his lesser works will continue to achieve
unanimous praise, so long as the director is perceived to be under
pressure. Ironically, this sizable minority is now putting Panahi at a
disadvantage, viewing his work through an exceedingly, and perhaps
needlessly, cynical lens.<br />
<br />
Such conversations and side-takings are inevitable when discussing a
filmmaker whose works have become so politically charged. Nevertheless, <i>Taxi</i>’s
shortcomings lie within its text. There is a moment midway through the
film in which a student asks Panahi which films are worth watching, and
what stories he should seek for inspiration. The director tells him that
all films are worth watching, but he should look elsewhere for
inspiration, because those stories have already been told. Both pieces
of advice seem strangely fitting for <i>Taxi</i>. It’s a film worth
watching, not least because it’s quite a fun experience, but also
because, much to his critics’ chagrin, Panahi’s continued activity is
really something to be celebrated. Yet, he has explored the stories of <i>Taxi</i>
before in films that were more formally curious and thematically
challenging. One wishes Panahi’s inspiration comes from elsewhere for
his next film.Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-20194003058794034422015-10-03T12:00:00.000-04:002015-10-03T12:00:08.121-04:00TIFF Reviews: Baba Joon, Dégradé, Much Loved<i>*These review were originally published at <a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2015/9/24/tiff-baba-joon-degrade-much-loved.html">The Film Experience</a>. </i><strong> </strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>
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<strong><br /></strong>
<strong>Baba Joon</strong> (Israel)<br /><a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/foreign-film-pt2/">Israel’s Oscar submission</a>
is quite a unique experience: the lives of Iranian Jews who have left
their homeland to live in Israel—and are consequently not allowed to
re-enter Iran because of the two countries’ bitter relationship has
never been portrayed on screen. In Yuval Delshad’s debut feature, the
titular character and his clan—a son, his wife and their son—all live on
a small turkey farm in rural Israel and live with very modest means.
The tensions between multiple generations of the family, and the
melancholia of living at once at home and away from home are the film’s
central themes.<br />
<br />
<em>Baba Joon</em>’s storytelling and the emotional beats are
familiar. There is nothing in the strained father-son dynamics, troubled
by decades of repression, that we haven’t previously seen on the big
screen. The film’s abrupt but rather predictable ending lends it a
saccharine flavour that might sit well with the Academy, but undermines
the film. When the story’s resolution is presented so neatly with a gift
wrap, very little is left for the audience to ponder. Still, this is a
heartfelt film of genuinely well intentions, with a sizable novelty
factor, whose fresh look at ethnic minorities in the Middle East is
quietly delightful.<br />
<strong><br /></strong>
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<strong><br /></strong>
<strong>Dégradé </strong>(Palestine/France/Qatar)<br />This debut film
from eccentrically named brothers Arab and Tarzan Nasser, shows similar
irreverence in depicting ethnic tensions with Israel. Part
Almodovar-esque comedy of women on the verge of nervous breakdowns, part
a thriller revolving a hostage situation, their film, which stars Hiam
Abbas and Maisa Abd Elhadi, is based in a hair salon in Gaza, where the
clientele hail from different social, religious and political
backgrounds. As they wait their turns to be beautified, the salon
becomes increasingly like a microcosm of Gaza’s society, and the world
beyond the confines of the building is engulfed in violence.<br />
<em><br /></em>
<em>Dégradé </em>is an interesting look at life in the occupied
territories because it broadens the conversation beyond the
Israel-Palestine binary. In the film’s view, the community is rife with
tensions and chasms, all exacerbated by the atrocious limitations of
living in occupation. Yet, the image is much richer and layered than
normally shown on screen, breaking the monolithic view of Palestinians
in favour of a more complex perspective. That the film manages to convey
these intricacies while remaining consistently entertaining is a
significant accomplishment, and one that promises much more from the
filmmaking duo.<br />
<strong><br /></strong>
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<strong><br /></strong>
<strong>Much Loved </strong>(Morocco/France)<br />The most daring film
among the bunch comes from the more experienced hands of Moroccan
director Nabil Ayouch. Ayouch surveys the night club scene in Marrakech,
a world filled with sex, drugs and rampant decadence. Home to tourists
from Saudi Arabia and Europe, the city’s nightlife is bustling and its
sex industry is ever active, almost completely removed from the
crisis-ridden country that surrounds it. <em>Almost</em>. Following Noha (Loubna Abidar) and her entourage of less experienced escorts, <em>Much Loved</em> is as intimate a film as it is provocative.
<br />
<br />
Ayouch has had to field a lot of controversy, mostly due to the
explicit displays of sex in his film; and while the murky release
prospects of the film in the Arab world are understandable, it’s
unfortunate if sex becomes the only talking point. This is the rare film
that intertwines the lives of sex workers with socio-economic issues
without becoming patronizing. Morocco’s complicated relationships with
Europe and other Arab countries, and its tenuous political situation are
subtly worked into the plot of the film. It’s intimate and superbly
acted—mostly by amateur performers— and a film that's heartbreaking,
humorous and evocative in equal measure. In a festival that is never
short on big films from big directors, <em>Much Loved</em> was a true discovery.Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-7817223856100702382015-10-02T18:48:00.002-04:002016-01-05T22:08:29.390-05:00Screening Log: September<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b><u>Offside (Panahi, 2006, 7.7)</u></b><br />
<i>The Circle</i>, but this time disguised as light-hearted fun. <i>Offside</i>
is deceptively simple but incredibly dense and rewarding on repeat
screenings, and it is as clever about women's second class status in
Iranian society as it is about the fervor with which Iranians worship
football. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Crimson Gold (Panahi, 2003, 7.8)</u></b><br />
One of Panahi's more confrontational films. This
is a harsh and sharp critique of the ever-expanding gap between social
classes in Iran and its catastrophic socio-cultural effects. Written by
his mentor Abbas Kiarostami, <i>Crimson Gold</i> is a formally rigorous and emotionally overwhelming experience. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Ice Age (Kiayi, 2015, 5.6)</u></b><br />
Needlessly
convoluted plotting and a ludicrously melodramatic ending sour an
otherwise entertaining experience. Kiayi's film plunges the audience
into modern Tehran's casual drug problem<strike> </strike>and "morality crisis<strike> </strike>but it's a shame he can't contain his crowd-pleasing tendencies in favour of a subtler approach. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Embrace of the Serpent (Guerra, 2015, 6.4)</u></b><br />
All the ingredients of a profound experience, but a total lack of dramatic tension. Looks stunning though!<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958, 9.4)</u></b><br />
Only one of the best films ever made. <br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>Very Big Shot (Bou Chaaya, 2015, 7.4)</u></b><br />
A thrilling action-comedy with an explosive ending! See? Middle Eastern films aren't all sad social dramas.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Arabian Nights: Volumes 1-3 (Gomes, 2015, 9.5)</u></b><br />
A flawless, towering, transcendent epic. It sounds reductive to put it in words, but this is a major masterpiece.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Much Loved (Ayouch, 2015, 7.8) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/10/tiff-reviews-baba-joon-degrade-much.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"It’s intimate and superbly acted—mostly by amateur performers— and a
film that's heartbreaking, humorous and evocative in equal measure. In a
festival that is never short on big films from big directors, <i>Much Loved</i> was a true discovery."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Story of Judas (Ameur-Zaïmeche, 2015, 7.1)</u></b><br />
Not sure it says anything about Jesus's life that we haven't seen before but it's gorgeous and I liked it!<br />
<br />
<b><u>Taxi (Panahi, 2015, 7.0) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/09/tiff-reviews-taxi-desde-alla.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"This is one of Panahi’s most accessible films, consistently funny and
engaging, and heartwarming, for showing the director in high spirits
after the troubles of the past few years. Yet, the complexity and
subtlety, the sly sociopolitical commentary seem absent in <i>Taxi</i>."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Victoria (Schipper, 2015, 8.5)</u></b><br />
Staggering
craft is immediately obvious; thematic complexity is revealed in
layers. Seamless marriage of form and content. Performances are
impossibly measured and powerful. Even within the non-stop structure,
Schipper manages to shape singular, outstanding scenes such as the piano
episode. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Club (Larraín, 2015, 7.8)</u></b><br />
Intensely
moving subject, filtered through the director's unabashedly stylized,
powerful style. Remarkable and disturbing in equal measure.<br />
<br />
<b><u>September of Shiraz (Blair, 2015, 3.5)</u></b><br />
No
surprise that yet another film made by Americans about Iran proves to
be shockingly off-the-mark about the realities of the country's history.
Icing on the cake: Brody and Hayek are embarrassingly awful. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Dégradé (Nasser/Nasser, 2015, 7.3) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/10/tiff-reviews-baba-joon-degrade-much.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
That the film manages to convey the intricacies of life Gaza while remaining
consistently entertaining is a significant accomplishment, and one that
promises much more from the filmmaking duo.<br />
<br />
<b><u>The Treasure (Porumboiu, 2015, 8.4)</u></b><br />
Porumboiu does what he does best; one very long, clever joke that lands with a bang in the end. The work of a true master.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Desde allá (Vigas, 2015, 7.8) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/09/tiff-reviews-taxi-desde-alla.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"This is quite possibly the most confident film debut of any director in
recent memory. Vigas studies societal hierarchies in Venezuela, the
exploitative nature of the relationship between the wealthy and the
lower classes, the deep-rooted effects of childhood trauma, the
melancholia of loneliness and the fluidity of human sexuality, all
within the parameters of the most sacred cinematic rule: show, don’t
tell." <br />
<br />
<b><u>Sunset Song (Davies, 2015, 7.4)</u></b><br />
Not
as formally imposing as Davies' earlier works but this is a sturdy,
stunning and inspired impression of the source novel. Ewan's abrupt
character development is the film's biggest downfall. It feels
unfinished against the rest of its subtle, patient buildup.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Francofonia (Sokurov, 2015, 6.7)</u></b><br />
The
scope of this film is either too limited or too vast to keep the
audience engaged. The craft on display, and Sokurov's playful shifting
between genres and media are very entertaining, but dulled by his
monotonous narration. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Starve Your Dog (Lasri, 2015, 5.5)</u></b><br />
As
daring, formally, as it is uninviting, with a unique, highly stylized
visual structure. The ideas are intriguing but nascent and
underdeveloped. This is a very exciting direction for Arab cinema,
though.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Evolution (Hadžihalilović, 2015, 7.0)</u></b><br />
A
haunting, eerie and unforgettable aesthetic experience. The allegory
wears thin by the end, but the experience of the film isn't so much
reliant on the story its telling as it is on the mood it conveys. <br />
<br />
<b><u>3000 Nights (Masri, 2015, 7.4) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/09/tiff-review-mustang-3000-nights.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"Passionate, intimate and intensely moving, <i>3000 Nights</i> is one
of the TIFF’s great discoveries, and a film that is more accessible
and entertaining than its premise might suggest on paper."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Youth (Sorrentino, 2015, 5.3)</u></b><br />
Full
of individual moments of brilliance, consistently funny and engaging in
its first half and featuring two stellar performances from Michael
Caine and Rachel Weisz, <i>Youth</i> eventually succumbs to the filmmaker's absurd tendency for grandiosity and aggrandizement. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Baba Joon (Delshad, 2015, 6.6) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/10/tiff-reviews-baba-joon-degrade-much.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"<i>Baba Joon</i>’s storytelling and the emotional beats are familiar...When the story’s resolution is presented so neatly with a gift wrap,
very little is left for the audience to ponder. Still, this is a
heartfelt film of genuinely well intentions, with a sizable novelty
factor, whose fresh look at ethnic minorities in the Middle East is
quietly delightful."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Mustang (Ergüven, 2015, 7.5) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/09/tiff-review-mustang-3000-nights.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"This is the work of a filmmaker whose understanding of form shows no
sign of her relative inexperience, and her work with the young
actors—all of whom more or less in front of the camera for the first
time—is nothing short of miraculous." <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Pearl Button (Guzmán, 2015, 8.1)</u></b><br />
Capturing the weight of history in droplets of water, in long forgotten words, in small pearl buttons. Simply sublime.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Dheepan (Audiard, 2015, 6.0) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/09/tiff-review-dheepan.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"What works to the film’s detriment is Audiard’s insistence on weaving
the family’s narrative to the minutiae of the violence engulfing them.
Some of these connections are simply nonsensical—Dheepan is threatened
in one intense and seemingly momentous scene by a Tamil warlord, for
example, but the subplot is never revisited—and others are merely
muddled."<br />
<br />
Total: 170 Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-18342833323687390302015-09-30T15:18:00.000-04:002015-09-30T15:18:00.155-04:00TIFF Reviews: Taxi, Desde Allá<i>*These reviews were originally published at <a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2015/9/19/tiff-berlin-and-venice-winners-taxi-and-desde-alla.html">The Film Experience</a>. </i><br />
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<br />
The studio Celluloid Dreams recorded a remarkable success this year
by winning the top prize at all of Europe’s big three festivals. The
journey started in Berlin with the Golden Bear for <em>Taxi</em>, continued into Cannes with the Palme d'or for <em>Dheepan</em> (<a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2015/9/13/tiff-did-dheepan-deserve-its-cannes-win.html" target="_blank">review</a>) and ended just last week with <a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2015/9/13/venice-film-festival-winners.html" target="_blank">Venice's Golden Lion</a> for Venezuela’s <em>Desde Allá</em>. Jafar Panahi’s <em>Taxi</em>
is the film that piqued my interest most, both as an Iranian, and as a
fan of the auteur’s complex career, which I have followed in real time
since his first film—a children’s movie—back in 1995.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>Taxi</em></strong> is filmed digitally with incredibly modest means, borne of the director’s complicated situation with government authorities. Panahi plays a taxi driver, on a sojourn across Tehran in which he
picks up an assorted range of passengers whose interactions with him
shape the film. None of the cameras used ever leave the space of the
car. Panahi’s film, influenced by a rich tradition of hybridizing
documentary and fiction in Iranian cinema, began to experiment with the
limits of fiction in <em>The Mirror</em>. Nearly two decades later—and several similar attempts in between, including the masterful <em>Closed Curtain</em>—he’s back in the same territory, this time to very entertaining effects.<br />
<br />
Panahi plays himself, disguised as a taxi driver, and although one
suspects the film is entirely scripted, some of the conversations convey
no sign of awareness on the passengers’ part. Some recognize him; some
berate him for not knowing addresses. The best of these passengers is
his niece, a sweet, loud and clever little girl who’s making a short
film of her own.<br />
<br />
This is one of Panahi’s most accessible films, consistently funny and
engaging, and heartwarming, for showing the director in high spirits
after the troubles of the past few years. Yet, the complexity and
subtlety, the sly sociopolitical commentary seem absent in <em>Taxi</em>.
Panahi’s passengers are a checklist of Iranian stereotypes, whose
succession of appearances make comic, but not thematic sense. And the
introduction of Nasrin Setoodeh, a beloved political activist as one of
the passengers, is warm and touching but only serves to make the film
more politically overt. <em>Taxi </em>is the director’s most entertaining film, but not his richest or most nuanced.<br />
<br />
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<br />
If the Iranian film is unexpectedly fun, no such thing can be said about Lorenzo Vigas’s debut feature, <strong><em>Desde Allá</em></strong>.
The Venice winner tells the story of Armando (Alfredo Castro), a
wealthy, lonely and closeted gay man who invites young boys from a poor
neighborhood in Caracas to disrobe for him as he pleasures himself. When
Elder (Luis Silva) a seventeen year-old petty criminal turns out to be a
homophobe, punches Armando in the face and runs away with his money, a
curious relationship develops between the two that keeps them going back
to each other.
<br />
<br />
Vigas is very economical with the details of the story. There is very
little dialogue in the film apart from cursory conversations and some
important background information is left for the audience to guess,
often with eerie effect. The reason for Armando’s deep hatred for his
father for example, is never explained, but a clear undercurrent in his
behaviour. <em>Desde Allá</em> is shot with superb precision,
alternating between punishing, sturdy close-ups of the characters and
energetic handheld sequences on the streets.<br />
<br />
This is quite possibly the most confident film debut of any director
in recent memory. Vigas studies societal hierarchies in Venezuela, the
exploitative nature of the relationship between the wealthy and the
lower classes, the deep-rooted effects of childhood trauma, the
melancholia of loneliness and the fluidity of human sexuality, all
within the parameters of the most sacred cinematic rule: show, don’t
tell. Tense, gripping and with two stellar performances from the central
duo, <em>Desde Allá</em> is a film that immediately puts Vigas among the most exciting directors working today.Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-89772151729260545742015-09-28T14:00:00.000-04:002015-09-28T15:16:52.900-04:00TIFF Review: Mustang; 3000 Nights<i>*These reviews were originally published at <a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2015/9/17/tiff-mustang-3000-nights.html">The Film Experience</a>.</i><br />
<b> </b><br />
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<b> </b><br />
<b>Mustang</b> (Turkey/France)<br />
Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s
first feature is an astonishingly assured debut. The story of five
orphaned sisters who live with their grandmother and uncle in rural
Turkey is at once a joyous celebration of youth and a rage-inducing
depiction of young girls’ lives in religious, conservative societies.
Locked inside their house after they are found innocuously playing with
male classmates at the beach, the girls are forced to stay away from
school and spend their days getting primed to be housewives.<br />
<br />
The first half takes on a mostly comic tone, as the girls defiantly
rebel against increasingly harsh measures by finding inventive ways to
step out of the house or sneak off with their boyfriends. One forced
marriage and an unfortunate disaster later, however, the film takes a
sharp turn for the serious. Ergüven handles this tonal shift deftly, though the final minutes of
the film forego the emotional complexity of the buildup in favour of a
thriller set piece which feels a bit hokey.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, this is the work of a filmmaker whose understanding of
form shows no sign of her relative inexperience, and her work with the
young actors—all of whom more or less in front of the camera for the
first time—is nothing short of miraculous. <i>Mustang</i> expertly
frames the young girls neither as victims nor as implausible heroes, but
as multifaceted, empathetic adolescents. As a friend put it succinctly,
it’s a beautiful film that reminds us of the importance of seeing the
female experience on film.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b>3000 Nights </b>(Palestine/France/Jordan/Lebanon)<br />
Palestinian and Israeli cinemas are in no shortage of films about the prison system, but <i>3000 Nights</i>
still feels like an entirely fresh entry. Mai Masri’s film tells the
story of Layal (Maisa Abd Elhadi), a young Arab woman arrested on a
bogus charge and detained in an Israeli prison that is home to women of
both ethnicities. As though the prison’s politically charged environment
is not difficult enough to navigate for Layal, she discovers her
pregnancy early on. Faced with an 8-year sentence, she is torn between
options that each seems progressively worse than the other.<br />
<br />
<i>3000 Nights</i> features an almost entirely female cast with
several stellar performances across the board, but the standout is Abd
Elhadi, whose graceful turn is as tender as it is powerful. Layal’s
evolution takes her from a naive but surprisingly headstrong newcomer to
a commanding presence who is self aware of her vulnerabilities both
because of her son and her Palestinian roots. Abd Elhadi is magnetic on
screen as she charts this gradual shift. <br />
<br />
Inevitably, Masri will face criticism for her film’s clear political
agenda, but no artist is responsible for covering every dimension of a
story, and within the parameters chosen here, she remains truthful to
reality. Her examination of the problematic Israeli prison system is
consistently engaging, whether in moments of ever-present tension
between the inmates, or their preferential treatment in the prison
hierarchy, or, most memorably, in the film’s striking rebellion scene,
an edge-of-your-seat sequence that begins with a breathtaking shooting
of a prisoner. Passionate, intimate and intensely moving, <i>3000 Nights</i>
is one of the festival’s great discoveries, and a film that is more
accessible and entertaining than its premise might suggest on paper.Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-35594299098248659582015-09-27T13:48:00.002-04:002015-09-28T15:16:29.268-04:00TIFF Review: Dheepan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIo65bLy_gChs-CgXqVkm2ZGsqvjdWuTkNrGmzDStfQ8r-UL6UYnTj8T_7S4B_-gVI1M429aeYhY1XYYLnmXqIJrVp0MRMPL1osVLKBMK379IGT6t2QZ0UHbh6HW27me7pMELGRl3VVQM/s1600/Dheepan-du-tres-tres-grand-Audiard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIo65bLy_gChs-CgXqVkm2ZGsqvjdWuTkNrGmzDStfQ8r-UL6UYnTj8T_7S4B_-gVI1M429aeYhY1XYYLnmXqIJrVp0MRMPL1osVLKBMK379IGT6t2QZ0UHbh6HW27me7pMELGRl3VVQM/s400/Dheepan-du-tres-tres-grand-Audiard.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>*This review was originally written for <a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2015/9/13/tiff-did-dheepan-deserve-its-cannes-win.html">The Film Experience</a>.</i><br />
<br />
Whether Jacques Audiard’s latest film, <i>Dheepan</i>, benefits
from the pedigree of its Palme d’or or becomes victim to raised
expectations isn’t clear. What is already clear, however, is that the
film’s reception has been truly baffling: on the one hand, the Cannes
prize is one of the festival’s more curious decisions; on the other, the
extent of vitriol that the film receives seems equally unwarranted. <i>Dheepan</i>
is on the same emotional and stylistic wavelength as Audiard’s previous
films, and it is about ten minutes — admittedly a disastrous ten
minutes — away from being on par with his best work.<br />
<br />
The story revolves around three Sri Lankan refugees, who escaped
civil war in their home country to reside in the notorious suburbs of
Paris. Dheepan (Jesuthasan Antonythasan), Yalini (Kalieaswari
Srinivasan) and Illayaal (Claudine Vinasithamby) are not a family, but
pretend to be husband, wife and daughter to gain political asylum. The
titular character finds work as a caretaker in a residential complex
that houses violent gangs. It’s an environment not entirely unlike the
war zone from which they’ve fled.<br />
<br />
Much of the strength of the film lies in its universality. It’s a
particularly timely film, as the refugee crisis rages on in the real
world, and <i>Dheepan</i> isn’t particularly tied to the specifics of
Parisian neighborhoods or Tamil tigers. The story of this immigrant
“family” is moving precisely because it relatable irrespective of the
details. In its best moments, Audiard’s film is tense and heartbreaking.
Antonythasan and Srinivasan both deliver remarkable performances,
deftly portraying the balance of vulnerability and defiance that their
characters embody in their new home.<br />
<br />
What works to the film’s detriment is Audiard’s insistence on weaving
the family’s narrative to the minutiae of the violence engulfing them.
Some of these connections are simply nonsensical—Dheepan is threatened
in one intense and seemingly momentous scene by a Tamil warlord, for
example, but the subplot is never revisited—and others are merely
muddled. All of their conflicts with the gang members build up to a
violent breakout near the film’s end, a shrill, amateurishly stylized
sequence that diminishes the film’s emotional impact. Audiard’s attempt
to rectify this digression makes matters even worse, when the complexity
of the story is diluted through rose-tinted glasses. It’s a misstep
entirely uncharacteristic for a filmmaker who’s built a career from
melodramatic treatments of tough subjects, and one that unfortunately
ends <i>Dheepan</i> on an unsatisfying note. Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-9224416000874472932015-09-09T14:31:00.000-04:002016-01-05T22:06:51.215-05:00Screening Log: August<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4aXNyvnxAP1P6HWlq2SD4DfOHXiWxFjK-FcTBeKo8t6VcLZbhlJ5m-iJu8JMwMRBoOE5IHKZlMqab3uj1kMbV04j-v3cYS42mSvu1cbY3vJugYgc2Wm7Kt7w4-lye5sDq1YafRgEdJ0/s1600/shaunthesheep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4aXNyvnxAP1P6HWlq2SD4DfOHXiWxFjK-FcTBeKo8t6VcLZbhlJ5m-iJu8JMwMRBoOE5IHKZlMqab3uj1kMbV04j-v3cYS42mSvu1cbY3vJugYgc2Wm7Kt7w4-lye5sDq1YafRgEdJ0/s400/shaunthesheep.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b><u>Absolute Rest (Kahani, 2015, 6.7)</u></b><br />
Bitingly humorous and shamelessly confrontational, <i>Absolute Rest</i>
is a fresh look at the struggles of the Iranian lower class. It's a
frank and compassionate film that despite its stutters, and the often
overzealous antics of its start, Reza Attaran, adds a worthy entry to
Kahani's intriguing resume. <br />
<u><br /></u>
<b><u>La Strada (Fellini, 1954, 9.4) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/09/la-strada.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"The threadbare plot bears a lot of elements that were
familiar then and even more familiar now, dealing with love triangles,
abusive men, poverty, sexuality and faith. It is Fellini’s touch of
magic that makes the film so endlessly rewatchable."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Shaun the Sheep (Burton/Starzak, 2015, 8.0)</u></b><br />
Predictably
adorable, but also surprisingly smart and heartfelt, this dialogue-free
marvel is what every children's film should aspire to. For personal reasons that will be incomprehensible to everyone else, <i>Shaun the Sheep</i> will be forever dear to me. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Queen of Earth (Perry, 2015, 7.9) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/08/queen-of-earth.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"Moss expertly portrays a woman in the process of slipping
into oblivion; Greene pushes her, and the audience, over the edge."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Ant-Man (Reed, 2015, 6.8)</u></b><br />
Marvel's
best film to date, which isn't saying that much with the atrocious
standards the studio has set for itself, but there's something
incredibly endearing about the humor in this one: there are no smug
smirks, just a realization that at the end of the day, all this nonsense
about a man in a cape saving the universe is only as big as an
explosion in a toy train. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Contempt (Godard, 1963, 6.6)</u></b><br />
Of all the Godard films that have won a lot of critical acclaim, the praise for this one is among the least baffling. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Singin' in the Rain (Kelly/Donen, 1952, 9.0)</u></b><br />
One of the most joyous pleasures one can have in a movie theater, and an increasingly rewarding experience. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (McQuarrie, 2015, 5.6)</u></b><br />
Any expectation of realism from a <i>Mission: Impossible</i>
film is a fool's errand, but even by the series' own standards, the
requirement for complete suspension of disbelief reaches laughably
over-the-top levels. Not that this isn't entertaining, but a little
humanity could go a long way.<br />
<br />
Total: 8 Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-89081283739926720102015-09-08T12:00:00.000-04:002015-09-08T12:00:10.290-04:00La Strada<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wrji051jjna2_NNdssoUBI2qVxfFkEfytyqtg3UzRZcraeDw8sg8u-7U9W6a-x-OVqMI2NIMgBc1lKEFOf-nSI0LYLgK0sYPQdWwbS3wxRrN8N_g3Tn_K-jN1B5h4tVckcWZoTUUzFs/s1600/lastrada-arms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-wrji051jjna2_NNdssoUBI2qVxfFkEfytyqtg3UzRZcraeDw8sg8u-7U9W6a-x-OVqMI2NIMgBc1lKEFOf-nSI0LYLgK0sYPQdWwbS3wxRrN8N_g3Tn_K-jN1B5h4tVckcWZoTUUzFs/s400/lastrada-arms.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>*This column was originally written for <a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2015/8/30/la-strada.html">The Film Experience</a>. </i><br />
<br />
Writing about canonical classics can be as difficult as it is
rewarding. The larger amount of existing texts and the time that has
been afforded to an artwork to cement its place in our cultural psyche
allow for deeper familiarity and reflection in a way that is impossible
with more recent films. On the other hand, well, fresh angles are
harder to find. What is there left to say about a film like Federico
Fellini’s <em>La Strada</em>? Not much, but in truth, you can never talk too much about one of the best films ever made.<br />
<br />
Growing up as an Iranian cinephile, and gradually getting into more
serious films as a teenager, Italian cinema is the most natural foray
outside of the local arthouse. Iranian cinema is not as indebted to any
Western filmic culture as it is to the films of Italian masters; those
films strike a particularly strong resonance. (Consider that the latest
poll of the greatest films of all time voted on by Iranian film critics
includes <em>The Bicycle Thieves</em>, <em>La Strada</em> and <em>Cinema Paradiso</em> all in the top ten.)<br />
<br />
Fellini’s films are of a different breed than the neorealism of
Zavattini, De Sica and Rossellini whose influence loomed heavily over
the arthouse I was voraciously consuming at the time. To the dismay of
some of his contemporaries, Fellini veered off quite drastically from
his roots in neorealist cinema. <br />
This shifting of gears had already started with <em>I Viteloni</em>, it is <em>La Strada</em> that proves the more significant pivot point of his career, and the more enduring film.<br />
<br />
Fellini himself certainly thought so, as he considered <em>La Strada</em>
one of his most personal films, and one that gave a complete image of
the worlds he wanted to depict, in all their magical and mythic glory.
Yet, the conception of the film was nowhere near wholesome. Formed in
his head as a collection of images and moods, Fellini began sketching
visual notes of any idea that would come to him, from his surroundings,
from his memories of childhood. He admits to beginning the process of
writing the iconic Gelsomina (played by his wife, Giulietta Masina) by
drawing a round circle on a piece of paper, something that eventually
came to resemble her face. Anthony Quinn’s Zampano was based on a
character he’d met in Rimini while growing up.<br />
<br />
It is not surprise that a film that felt so intimate and personal to
its creator feels the same to us more than 60 years later. The story of
Gelsomina, a poor girl who is sold by her family to Zampano, a
travelling strongman, has been dubbed the first real road movie. The
brutish man and the innocent woman come together and travel city to
city, join a circus, entertain communities desperately in need of joy,
another man comes into the picture and his presence of puts a strain on
the relationship. The threadbare plot bears a lot of elements that were
familiar then and even more familiar now, dealing with love triangles,
abusive men, poverty, sexuality and faith. It is Fellini’s touch of
magic that makes the film so endlessly rewatchable.<br />
<br />
Like a lot of great cinema, the film’s production was protracted and
difficult, hit by a harsh winter that hindered filming in the seaside
and Fellini’s crushing period of depression and eventual nervous
breakdown. In retrospect, were these all blessings in disguise for <em>La Strada</em>?
Are the melancholy mood of the film, the bitter, palpable coldness of
the images on the screen by-products of the troubles behind the scenes?
The positive impact could certainly be felt on the casting. Masina, whom
Fellini fought for to get the role, delivers one of the iconic
performances in film history. Quinn, whose schedule became a nightmare
after delays meant <em>La Strada</em>’s filming would run into <em>Attila</em>’s,
famously noted that his tired, ragged face did much of the
characterization for him in the former film. For Fellini himself, the
film became a significant achievement. It began the development of the
unique, fantastical worlds that his filmography would later become
associated with, but it also solidified his status as one of the world’s
most important filmmakers. After two shared Oscar nominations for
writing Rossellini’s films and a Silver Lion at Venice, it was with <em>La Strada</em>
that Fellini finally became a household name; and won his first Oscar,
too: the first ever competitive statue given to best foreign film. Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-8703364023021396562015-08-27T15:26:00.001-04:002015-08-27T15:26:47.168-04:00Queen of Earth<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hyphenhyphenPpPgWCdA7BAkwoApuiG1oAgBaZciAM3v1yUh22FzUjKc37OhUg9lGhe_I20nWY8MUfiJ9lN40xpRMMs2wOMNOnq8nvt1CX8Exvr4IXwL_yzsPU1UaifI6phyphenhyphenHXpeyvaUiOC5GOVqA/s1600/55d4b9c98fbf768838dcf84c_queen-of-earth-elisabeth-moss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6hyphenhyphenPpPgWCdA7BAkwoApuiG1oAgBaZciAM3v1yUh22FzUjKc37OhUg9lGhe_I20nWY8MUfiJ9lN40xpRMMs2wOMNOnq8nvt1CX8Exvr4IXwL_yzsPU1UaifI6phyphenhyphenHXpeyvaUiOC5GOVqA/s400/55d4b9c98fbf768838dcf84c_queen-of-earth-elisabeth-moss.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<i>*This review was originally published at <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/queen-of-earth-review/">Movie Mezzanine</a>. </i><br />
<br />
Elisabeth Moss’s most famous performance to date, on television as Peggy Olson in <i>Mad Men</i>,
is a work of layered complexity and a superb example of gradual
character evolution, with Moss growing into the role as Peggy did into
her male-dominated world, handling the ever-shifting power dynamics with
increasing confidence. Her charismatic presence, however, had not yet
been given a role on the big screen that merited her considerable
talents. Perhaps the closest was her role in last year’s <i>Listen Up Philip</i>
as Ashley, a secondary character turned into the film’s most complete
creation by her gravitas. It’s no surprise, then, that the
writer-director behind that film, Alex Ross Perry, would elevate Moss to
the leading role of his latest film,<i> Queen of Earth</i>, and the
result is an earth-shattering performance in a film that solidifies
Perry’s place among the most exciting filmmakers working in American
cinema today.<br />
<br />
Catherine (Moss) is at the bitter end of a romantic relationship when the film begins. In the <i>tour de force</i>
opening sequence, a mostly sustained close-up of her face introduces us
to a woman on the verge of emotional collapse. Moss’s ferocious energy
is bursting at the frame’s seams, but the scene quickly cuts to the
serene surroundings of a lakeside villa, where she is retreating with
her best friend, Ginny (Katherine Waterston).<br />
<br />
As it transpires, Catherine and Ginny spent their vacation together
exactly a year previously at the same spot, a minimalist building whose
precise architecture contributes significantly to the film’s eeriness.
Tensions are high between the two friends, owing as much to Catherine’s
post-breakup depression as to Ginny’s inability to deal with her
friend’s state of distress. Worse yet, Ginny’s friend Rich (an expertly
cast Patrick Fugit) enters the picture too, a sly presence who glides
smoothly between being the voice of reason and a predatory creep.<br />
<br />
The ensuing chamber drama escalates in tension as Catherine’s anxiety
and depression give way to delusion and psychosis. The invasion of
Catherine’s space and the breaking of her illusion of intimate safety
with Ginny slide her further in a downward spiral, a progression that
Moss’s performance captures with astonishing precision. Charting the
constantly evolving and declining state of Catherine’s mental health,
Moss switches alternatively between childish naiveté, tragic
helplessness and dangerously vicious authority. She is scary,
frustrating and heartbreaking, often within the space of seconds. The
performance is so powerful, the character so thoroughly hers, it’s
difficult to remember after the film that we lived with Moss in another
skin for more than seven years.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Perry’s style, loosely structured and aesthetically frenzied despite
the intricacy of his films, is perfectly suited to externalizing
Catherine’s internal chaos. Although in one instance—a party sequence
featuring a rather clichéd depiction of Catherine’s feelings of
claustrophobia in a crowded space—the film falls victim to a
heavy-handed narrative choice and unsubtle execution, more often,
smaller moments such as Catherine’s interactions with Rich, or her
reminiscences about the past with Ginny, become crucial in expressing
her emotions. Devoid of the dry wit of <i>Listen Up Philip</i> and the acerbic, aloof humor of <i>The Color Wheel</i>, Perry’s first foray into thrillers in <i>Queen of Earth</i> may look like a departure for him, but thematically he is just as attentive to character detail as in his previous films.<br />
<br />
Other familiar faces remain behind the camera from his past films.
Editor Robert Greene and cinematographer Sean Price Williams, the latter
Perry’s collaborator on all his pictures so far, are in typically
strong form. Williams’s jittery camera and foggy images lend the film an
authentic and unnerving atmosphere, but Greene is the real star of the
show. An expert in blending fiction and nonfiction modes as a director
in his own right, Greene’s inventive cuts transport the audience between
the present and the past, between reality and imagination, with
devilish glee. Moss expertly portrays a woman in the process of slipping
into oblivion; Greene pushes her, and the audience, over the edge.Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-86037969402699220302015-08-05T22:05:00.001-04:002016-01-05T22:06:12.947-05:00Screening Log: July<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEievLZ14fLe_As6KN8xO69flAQxR_qXWpAsRIWDM38GDM83s0xovrZnhY6E4iW-ro1BsupUY5DbI8zbwkcS9o6MxozHB2w0G_mLc91v1cLA0UtavLt6lr24DU9L_T8a-12uKa-5qMPQ/s1600/streetsla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEievLZ14fLe_As6KN8xO69flAQxR_qXWpAsRIWDM38GDM83s0xovrZnhY6E4iW-ro1BsupUY5DbI8zbwkcS9o6MxozHB2w0G_mLc91v1cLA0UtavLt6lr24DU9L_T8a-12uKa-5qMPQ/s400/streetsla.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tangerine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<b><u>Captain Phillips (Greengrass, 2013, 7.5)</u></b><br />
Expertly made and relentlessly tense even after several screenings, Greengrass's film is one of the crowning achievements of Hollywood action filmmaking in recent years. Tom Hanks his career best performance. <br />
<br />
<b><u>I'm Not Angry (Dormishian, 2015, 6.0)</u></b><br />
All the good work done in the build-up to the film's finale is undone by ten minutes of frankly ludicrous miscalculation in tone and two unnecessary plot twists. Navid Mohammadzadeh's performance is absolutely remarkable, in a film that deal with the heartbreaking plight of unemployed Iranian youth with compassion and humor. A real shame that the ending is unforgivably bad, cinematically and politically. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Tangerine (Baker, 2015, 7.7)</u></b><br />
The iPhone aesthetic has become the talking point for the film in the press, but it's not just a gimmick; the film's character and exuberance is in large part indebted to this stylistic---and financial---decision. Energetic, uproariously funny and written and directed with unparalleled verve, Baker's film is an essential entry in the canon of films about the trans community. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Chappie (Blomkamp, 2015, 5.1)</u></b><br />
A total clusterfuck on every level but for the visual effects; yet, strangely endearing. There is no depth whatsoever, but at least it's never boring. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Buzzard (Potrykus, 2015, 6.9)</u></b><br />
The more distant the memory of <i>Buzzard</i> becomes, the better it gets as a film. This is an incredibly tough sit with a protagonist(?) of unparalleled repulsiveness, and several days of contemplation have not yet convinced me that the film's unobtrusive observations actually add up to much substance. Still, this is a film that demands repeat screenings and looks at the troubled, young, White male psyche in ways few films have done. <br />
<br />
<b><u>A Survivor from Magadan (Mohammadi, 2012, N/A)</u></b><br />
Mohammadi's approach to the story isn't particularly adventurous, but the attraction is the remarkable story itself. Tracing the history of communism in Iran and prison camps in the Soviet Union both through the prism of one man's tale of persecution and survival, Mohammadi's film is immensely moving and effortlessly warm, despite itself. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Mad Max: Fury Road (Miller, 2015, 8.8)</u></b><br />
The type of filmmaking that all other filmmakers should aspire to. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Look of Silence (Oppenheimer, 2015, 9.3) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/07/the-look-of-silence.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"For Adi, the only source of serenity is the continued search for
justice, but his grief remains ever-present. Oppenheimer's subdued but
polished style effectively conveys this sense of inescapability in a
country where politics has seeped into every pore. The weight of history
is crushing, and its haunting shadow is cast over every frame."
<br />
<br />
<b><u>My Beautiful Laundrette (Frears, 1986, 7.9) (<a href="https://vimeo.com/134573718">video of my lecture on the film in Persian</a>)</u></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<b><u>The Suicide Theory (Brown, 2015, 5.0) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/07/the-suicide-theory.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"Although <i>The Suicide Theory</i> is rarely dull, it lacks the
emotional precision required to elevate it above merely an amusing
concept."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Amy (Kapadia, 2015, 7.9)</u></b><br />
What a voice! What a woman! What a story! Another masterwork by Kapadia,
woven together from archival footage with heartbreaking honesty and
superb precision. <i>Amy</i> is a sensational film, but Kapadia's true genius is in elevating Amy Winehouse's sublime music to the level of transcendence. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Grifters (Frears, 1990, 6.4)</u></b><br />
The Grifters is the type of film I wish to see a lot more of, even though it isn't an entirely successful effort on its own. Bening and Huston deliver outstanding performances, making this somewhat mannered and uneven film worthwhile on their own. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Act of Killing (Oppenheimer, 2012, 7.0)</u></b><br />
That the antagonists can so
nonchalantly recreate their past monstrosities and remain more or less
unaffected by the experience is so shocking, so inhumane, it would have
been nearly impossible to stomach the film had it not been presented as
“re-creation.” A unique experiment, if not quite as emotionally effective as the experience beckons. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Dangerous Liaisons (Frears, 1988, 6.9)</u></b><i><b><u> </u></b></i><br />
It's no secret to long time readers of this blog that costume dramas are my least favourite genre. Bearing that in mind, <i>Dangerous Liaisons</i> is one the less underwhelming canonical titles in the genre for me. An energetic, slyly funny and irreverent<strike> </strike>in the aforementioned context<strike> </strike>film with three sensational central performances. How did Malkovich end up being the one left out of the Oscar party?<br />
<br />
Total: 14 Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-48370717389157131122015-07-25T12:00:00.000-04:002015-07-25T12:00:00.074-04:00The Look of Silence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6t3SqA6Rwkg4_ZlFs5E5-2lYxDPTQH6ivlriLnIsm70TguN0g2hDSVsj1-eVW4JYQviF4PF4e9mAeI0jdU0nZYAuv_NcR6ohcRw8CGY3Yd6ercHDLmvT46nIhi6KhRwgg_ssec1s2wr8/s1600/lookofsilence-tv.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6t3SqA6Rwkg4_ZlFs5E5-2lYxDPTQH6ivlriLnIsm70TguN0g2hDSVsj1-eVW4JYQviF4PF4e9mAeI0jdU0nZYAuv_NcR6ohcRw8CGY3Yd6ercHDLmvT46nIhi6KhRwgg_ssec1s2wr8/s400/lookofsilence-tv.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>*This review was originally written for <a href="http://thefilmexperience.net/blog/2015/7/24/the-look-of-silence.html">The Film Experience</a>. </i><br />
<br />
Midway through <strong><em>The Look of Silence</em></strong>, Joshua Oppenheimer’s follow-up to the 2013 Best Documentary Nominee <em>The Act of Killing</em>,
there is a seemingly innocuous moment that sends chills down the spine.
The film’s protagonist, Adi, and a male companion are trudging through
the forest as they discuss their assassinated family members. Slowly
reciting the “<em>Ashhad</em>,” Muslim prayer for the departed, they
arrive at a river that runs through the trees. The camera stops as they
exit the frame. The forest’s natural humming and buzzing, and the slow
movement of the water in dusk’s light lend the moment a haunting
eeriness. The weight of their wounds lingers above the water; the
emptiness of the space is terrifying.<br />
<br />
This sequence is not unique to the structure of the film, a
documentary whose emotional impact and, frequently, its thematic
development, hinges on small, quiet moments; a shot of a motorcycle
riding away toward the forests, a woman sitting still at the doorway of
her house, a long gaze that captures the gravity of decades of history.
Every miniscule gesture is effective, and the cumulative impact of
these small wonders adds up to a film that is, without hyperbole, one of
the best documentaries ever made.<br />
<br />
In <em>The Act of Killing</em>, Oppenheimer told the story of the
Indonesian genocide through the prism of politics. Focusing on the
executioners who have lived as heroes for nearly five decades, the first
film studied the repercussions of corruption, theocracy and abuse of
power on a socio-political level. The emotional punch of the film was
predicated on disbelief and disgust. That its antagonists could so
nonchalantly recreate their past monstrosities and remain more or less
unaffected by the experience was so shocking, so inhumane, it would have
been nearly impossible to stomach the film had it not been presented as
“re-creation.”<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>On the other hand, nothing in <em>The Looking of Silence</em> is
shocking. In this companion piece, Oppenheimer turns the camera 180
degrees around, focusing his gaze on the victims of the genocide. All
manner of theatricality thus give way to blunt truthfulness, to opening
up about pains inflicted several decades ago and repressed ever since.
Adi is our guide through the suppressed agony of his people. His
brother, Ramli, was taken away and brutally killed, before Adi was even
born. His parents are both still alive: his mother a somber old woman
who claims Adi’s birth was her defence mechanism against the heartache
of losing her other son; his father a frail man who has lost all
physical and mental function. Blind, nearly deaf and unable to walk, he
barely remembers Ramli at all.<br />
<br />
The structure of <em>The Look of Silence</em>, much of it comprised
of archival footage shot for the first film, rests on the confrontations
between the families of the victims and those of the perpetrators. It’s
a window into the collective psyche of a society that has tried to
brush its pains under the rug; not to suture the wounds but hide them
away from view. Such deeply entrenched suffering is difficult to convey
on the screen, but through Oppenheimer’s lens, it has become openly
visible, so much so that at times the confrontational style feels
slightly unethical. Authenticity is achieved through spontaneity, but
this is often at the expense of subjects who are unaware of the
revelations they're going to face on camera. There is a perverse
brilliance to the duality at play here; the audience is at once made to
feel guilty about the intrusion of privacy, and relieved at the prospect
of healing as the members of this society open up to each other.<br />
<br />
Two sequences are particularly striking, in both Adi enters the home
of others to tell them of the atrocities committed by the head of their
family. In one, he confronts a woman in the presence of her father, and
we learn that she had never heard of her father’s crimes before. The
heavy awkwardness of the moment for the audience is no less than her
shocked discomfort. In another, Adi similarly confronts a woman and her
two sons about her departed husband’s murders. Too old and fragile to
revisit the uncomfortable memories, she and her sons force Adi out of
their home and the audience into deep thought. For the children of the
exectioners, and for us, the moral dilemma lies in the uneasy
reconciliation of present and past.<br />
<br />
For Adi, the only source of serenity is the continued search for
justice, but his grief remains everpresent. Oppenheimer's subdued but
polished style effectively conveys this sense of inescapability in a
country where politics has seeped into every pore. The weight of history
is crushing, and its haunting shadow is cast over every frame.Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-58704660067791053262015-07-14T17:00:00.000-04:002015-07-14T17:00:01.900-04:00The Suicide Theory<div class="single-box clearfix entry-content" itemprop="articleBody">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKA1ZEUlfNLoMX-CGQppg7pDYL31FzT16xIBkjFYllL5151RZJUjeTfowSKMTmAclNv2jWpcPbNbrN-QEVzc-Qqv3u2kh6M9FzBYfLHj0vfHqtCGYbyJ3fAcwLit_ede34NhWQ2bLPuAM/s1600/the_suicide_theory_still-790x445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKA1ZEUlfNLoMX-CGQppg7pDYL31FzT16xIBkjFYllL5151RZJUjeTfowSKMTmAclNv2jWpcPbNbrN-QEVzc-Qqv3u2kh6M9FzBYfLHj0vfHqtCGYbyJ3fAcwLit_ede34NhWQ2bLPuAM/s400/the_suicide_theory_still-790x445.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
*This review was originally written for <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/the-suicide-theory-review/">Movie Mezzanine</a>.<br />
<br />
What does one do when life has become so
miserable that the only option is to say goodbye to the world? What if
even that ability, to take one’s own life, is taken away? That’s the
answer director Dru Brown is trying to find in his second feature film, <i>The Suicide Theory</i>.
The question is interesting in, well, theory. In practice, it isn’t
only left unanswered, but the thought process behind finding a solution
for it is so muddled and confused, one wonders why the director pursued
it to begin with.<br />
<br />
Steven Ray (Steve Mouzakis) is a troubled man who, in the film’s
shocking opening sequence, kills a man because he cuts in line at a
supermarket line. The source of his violent instincts never becomes
clear, apart from the vague notion that aggression is his coping
mechanism with grief. The source for this unhappiness is revealed to be a
wife who died in a car crash, leaving him permanently scarred and
terrified of crossing roads, what with the bitter memory of the accident
constantly flashing across his mind.<br />
<br />
Three years after her death, Steven has become a professional killer.
It is in this capacity that he meets Percival, a man who demands Steven
to shoot him in exchange for cash. The reason? Percival’s attempted
suicides have all failed, no matter how drastic the measure taken,
including jumping off a bridge. Literally bruised and battered, his only
option is to hand the proceedings over to an expert. Steven agrees, but
on repeated encounters with Percival, the two men begin to have a
connection, even as they continue their efforts toward the impending
murder.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Percival’s suicidal tendencies, as it transpires, are caused by grief
of a similar nature: his male lover, Chris also lost his life. Steven’s
first reaction to this revelation is somewhat homophobic, but the
budding friendship between the two eases any such tensions. Steven’s
understanding doesn’t prove a boon for the film, however, since it
becomes one of many points which Brown repeats in endless streams of
dialogue. Such relentless exposition throughout the film creates a
barrier between the audience and the story from which the film can never
free itself. Every emotion is external and verbalized, never
actualizing as anything other than performance. That Steven’s main
outlet for his emotion is dressing up as his wife in the privacy of his
home is an indication of the extent to which <i>The Suicide Theory</i> assumes the audience needs overt, theatrical explanations.<br />
<br />
Percival’s insistence that a curse is responsible for his
inexplicable ability to survive fatal strikes are playful, and such
goofiness would have worked if the film believed in it as the main tonal
mode for its outrageous concept. Yet, at every turn, Brown dramatizes
the story with Emotion with a capital E, but what the film demands the
audience to feel is unmerited when all we are given are verbal accounts
of each character’s feelings. Nothing genuine is conveyed, and the
actors, particularly Mouzakis, are not to blame, for they give their
thinly written characters as much as possible.<br />
<br />
Although <i>The Suicide Theory</i> is rarely dull, it lacks the
emotional precision required to elevate it above merely an amusing
concept. The narrative’s complete reliance on fate and, worse yet,
repeated reminders of this reliance, further expose the film’s
shortcomings. Destiny’s hand extends so far that, in the final moments
of the film, it even justifies the disregard for spatial and temporal
coherence. If there is a meaningful theme in <i>The Suicide Theory</i>,
it is buried under its heaps of exposition. It’s a real shame, because
the theory had the potential to grow into a more deeply felt story.
</div>
Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-2093272629287163462015-07-01T12:28:00.001-04:002015-12-22T15:26:07.909-05:00Screening Log: June<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFiuEe4XjKI3PJBX4o7Hg3Ia510ZIiH6_8tHFUtGepDjQZmmB129wRqg9CZ3jUpya-wPInon4WXyVNEaBOVJJcz0kFJJUq3teRJCVLV7KkhR_rpV5GmsU0Lc0nTFtsLKroFlJi7iCa_wg/s1600/Wet-Hot-American-Summer_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFiuEe4XjKI3PJBX4o7Hg3Ia510ZIiH6_8tHFUtGepDjQZmmB129wRqg9CZ3jUpya-wPInon4WXyVNEaBOVJJcz0kFJJUq3teRJCVLV7KkhR_rpV5GmsU0Lc0nTFtsLKroFlJi7iCa_wg/s400/Wet-Hot-American-Summer_0.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul Rudd and Elizabeth Banks in <i>Wet Hot American Summer </i>(David Wain)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i><a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/p/ratings-guide.html">Guide to Numerical Grades</a></i><br />
<br />
<b><u>The Hit (Frears, 1984, 6.0)</u></b><br />
Frears's conception of each scene is immaculate; <i>The Hit</i> makes the best of the smallest changes in framing or otherwise unimportant sound cues to create tension
and affect mood. Yet, the overall arc of the film is rather unexciting
and the progression of the plot is so deliberately slow, it's impossible
to check the watch every now and then. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Paternal House (Ayari, 2015, 7.4)</u></b><br />
One
of the most compelling films to come out of mainstream Iranian cinema
in recent years. I felt more mixed after the second viewing but later
discussing the film for the Hello Cinema podcast, I felt I liked it
more. This is problematic film, both structurally<strike> </strike>the repetitions in storytelling pattern can be felt, though it's never boring<strike> </strike>and tonally<strike> </strike>the
eccentric humor, a trademark of Ayari's cinema, isn't for everyone, and
it certainly isn't for every minute in this otherwise brutal, crushing
film. Nevertheless, this is essential stuff. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Inside Out (Docter, 2015, 7.5)</u></b><br />
Certainly Pixar's best film since <i>Brave</i>,
an entertaining, thoughtful experience that continues Pete Docter's
fascination with children's mental development. Deceptively simplistic
in presentation and scope, but more though-provoking the more I live
with the film. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Algerian (Zelko, 2015, 0.5) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/06/the-algerian.html">review</a>) </u></b><br />
"<i>The Algerian</i> is not offensive because it doesn’t abide by rules of
political correctness, but because of its sheer incompetence on every
level. This is a film in which story and plot are both mistaken for
relentless exposition; political nuance is forgone in favour of the
simple rule of thumb that America is superior to the rest of the world;
the ambiguity of race and gender relations convey the filmmaker’s
misunderstanding of both; and performances are delivered with all the
grace and poise of a corporate sexual harassment video. It is hard to
encounter a film that lacks even a single redeeming quality; that <i>The Algerian</i> achieves that is probably its biggest accomplishment."<br />
<br />
<b><u>Paternal House (Ayari, 2015, 7.6)</u></b><br />
The
film's episodic structure suffers from the sheer force of the opening
chapter; it is virtually impossible to keep the tension and power of
this violently brilliant start. One of the most compelling and strident
films about women's rights in Iran in recent years<strike> </strike>hence
the lengthy ban on the film's public release in its home country; the
film was produced in 2010 and only released for two days this year<strike> </strike>and a film that, despite its several limitations, is essential and merits discussion (and repeat viewings). <br />
<br />
<b><u>To Be or Not to Be (Ayari, 1998, 8.3)</u></b><br />
Not a particularly adventurous film on a formal level<strike> </strike>though particular scenes in the film would beg to differ<strike> </strike>but an emotional <i>tour de force</i>.
One of those films that pull moments of magic out of seemingly nothing,
in small conversations, in a single glance, or in the way a character
utters a specific line, or in tender moments of normal, genuine human
interaction. <i>To Be or Not to Be</i>'s story of two young women
looking for a heart transplant from a brain-dead man studies small
tensions between people of different ethnic, religious and economic
backgrounds and the human spirit that rises above it all.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Wet Hot American Summer (Wain, 2001, 8.4) </u></b><br />
Although
the film has mostly achieved cult status because of the future careers
of its stars, and remains somewhat inconsistent on repeat visits, its
highs are so far above the clouds that the lows can be forgiven. Paul
Rudd's performance<strike> </strike>brimming with Falconetti-level iconic facial expressions<strike> </strike>is the highlight of a film which also includes one of the best comic line readings of all time: "Can you get me some lube? <i>For my pussy</i>." <br />
<br />
<b><u>Jurassic World (Trevorrow, 2015, 3.6)</u></b><br />
The
lowest common denominator of Hollywood blockbusters. For a film based
on a narrative about nostalgia, about people's interest in mechanical
and old-school charms, it's frustrating how completely the computer
generated animation sucks the soul out of the spectacle. This is a film
of incomprehensible storytelling and stylistic choices, with no
emotional justification for its chaotic, noisy narrative propulsion.<br />
<br />
<b><u>The Face of an Angel (Winterbottom, 2015, 3.9) (<a href="http://amiresque.blogspot.ca/2015/06/the-face-of-angel.html">review</a>)</u></b><br />
"A fictionalized account of Amanda Knox’s story, the film is contrived,
confusing, and, despite dense plotting, severely lacking in emotional or
thematic depth."<br />
<br />
<b><u>The Bull's Horn (Ayari, 1995, 5.9)</u></b><br />
Adapted
from Erich Kastner's "Emil and the Detectives," Ayari's children's film
is indicative of the range of his thematic interests and his
capabilities as a director. Yet, given the topic<strike> </strike>children banding together to retrieve money a thief stole from one of them<strike> </strike><i>The Bull's Horn</i>
is neither entertaining nor exciting enough for the first two thirds of
the film. The finale, however, is both touching and engaging. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Abadani-ha (Ayari, 1994, 6.7)</u></b><br />
Ayari's faithful remake of <i>The Bicycle Thieves</i>,
relocated to war-time Tehran, is a competently made, keenly studied and
emotionally powerful experience, but falls short at every turn in
comparison to its predecessor. Still, De Sica's film is one of the
greatest films ever made, so the comparison isn't exactly a fair one. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Two Halves of an Apple (Ayari, 1992, 4.2) </u></b><br />
Two
Halves of an Apple tells the story of twin sisters, long lost, who find
each other and decide to swap places for a few days at a critical
juncture in both their lives. Ayari's execution of this intriguing<strike> </strike>though somewhat cliched<strike> </strike>story
is rather heavy-handed, with socio-political allegories confusingly
forced in. Although there are individual moments of excellence in the
film<strike> </strike>such as the wordless flashback sequence in which the two sisters' family history is told<strike> </strike>the
film as a whole is undermined by the shrill acting of the two actresses
who did not go on to have careers beyond this film. It's all the more
disheartening for the fact that my mother and aunt were approached on
the street by Kianoush Ayari to play the lead roles. No, really!<br />
<br />
<b><u>Beyond the Fire (Ayari, 1990, 8.5)</u></b><br />
The
absurd and raucous finale of this film, set to Johann Strauss' The Blue
Danube, is its most memorably enduring moment, but it shouldn't
overshadow everything that comes before it. The barren deserts of the
Iranian southwest, and the architecture of fiery oil rigs have provided
visual spectacles for several Iranian directors across the decades, from
Ebrahim Golestan to Amir Naderi; Ayari's film is one of the most
astonishing inclusions in that company. Making the best of the region's
minimalist architecture, and the juxtaposition between the rapidly
developing oil industry and the wretched infrastructure of poverty and
destitution, Ayari's visual language highlights social and personal
tensions more than any words could. This is a film for the ages, and one
that I only wish I had the opportunity to see on the big screen at some
point. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Spy (Feig, 2015, 7.0)</u></b><br />
Restlessly
hilarious, and that seems to be about the film's only aim, which it
achieves quite comfortably. Feig and McCarthy have a perfect
understanding of each other's gifts and expectations, creating a
chemistry that has so far resulted in a three slam dunk successes. The
real star of this all-star show, though, is Rose Byrne. Her comic gifts,
subtler than her co-stars here, are paralleled by no one in Hollywood
today. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Grand Day (Ayari, 1989, 5.9)</u></b><br />
Ayari's
spoof of the Shah's incompetence in dealing with rural problems isn't
the brave proposition it would have been had it been made before the
Iranian Revolution. It isn't consistently funny, either. The visual
language is interesting, however, both because of comic coding<strike> </strike>the costumes and signifiers that mark government agents<strike> </strike>and political coding<strike> </strike>the
first and last scenes of the film are poignant mirror images that
concisely captures the reasons for the monarchy's fall. Alireza
Khamseh's physical attributes, as is often the case with him, give the
film a lot of comic mileage. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Spectre of Scorpion (Ayari, 1986, 4.4)</u></b><br />
Ayari
has made one of the more innovative entries in the vast collection of
films about the difficulties of working in Iranian cinema. Ironically,
for a film about a director whose main preoccupation is with producing
"naturalistic" atmospheres, <i>Spectre of Scorpion</i> is contrived and over the top. The heist around which the film pivots beggars belief and the intensity of the film-making <strike> </strike>evident both in the highly angular cinematography and the heightened energy of the performances<strike> </strike> leave much to be desired. The finale is incongruously superb. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Dust Devil (Ayari, 1985, 5.8) </u></b><br />
Produced
during the years of war between Iran and Iraq, following the Iranian
Revolution, Dust Devil is a product of the highly politicized cultural
environment of the time. Paradoxically, the film is both naturalistic in
its depiction of rough and dry terrain of Iranian deserts and symbolic
in conveying the ideological warfare of the era. It is telling that the
resource over which the character fight is not oil, artillery or money,
but water, symbolizing the very livelihood that was at stake in the
tumultuous atmosphere of war time Iran. The metaphors eventually become
overbearing, but as a debut film, this is very promising.<br />
<br />
Total: 17 films Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-27241316146446138002015-06-27T14:00:00.000-04:002015-06-27T14:00:00.863-04:00The Algerian<div class="single-box clearfix entry-content" itemprop="articleBody">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIUj1K_tpd2tBqWCnzOwq06GjyL2c8MLnr7B9Hz8QjwVr7ze8sRkCkdv49mgmw9gkk2-TXUFwrJCdWnUNjG_1eDmeVYLY62zOyO-A6gCOyX_kExfSXE8yaKnrPguO0UtOtgqILBqiE6k/s1600/The-Algerian-7-Ben-Youcef-and-Tara-Holt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIUj1K_tpd2tBqWCnzOwq06GjyL2c8MLnr7B9Hz8QjwVr7ze8sRkCkdv49mgmw9gkk2-TXUFwrJCdWnUNjG_1eDmeVYLY62zOyO-A6gCOyX_kExfSXE8yaKnrPguO0UtOtgqILBqiE6k/s320/The-Algerian-7-Ben-Youcef-and-Tara-Holt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
*This review was originally written for <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/the-algerian-review/">Movie Mezzanine</a>.<br />
<br />
“Why would a man like you help a woman like
me?” says Lana (Candice Coke) to Ali (Ben Youcef) when he comes to her
rescue after Lana’s abusive date punches her in public. It’s a baffling
question, and not just because it is despairingly clichéd. The situation
doesn’t merit this question at all. A man like <em>what</em>? A woman like <em>whom</em>?
What does Lana know about Ali that we don’t? As it turns out, none of
this information matters to Giovanni Zelko, the debut filmmaker behind
the asinine <em>The Algerian</em>, and, even though the exchange only
happens a quarter of an hour into the film, it doesn’t matter to the
viewer either. Even by that early point, it’d have to be a miracle to
find a viewer who hasn’t checked out of the film yet.<br />
<br />
<em>The Algerian</em> tells the story of Ali, an immigrant to the
United States who, as a child, witnessed the death of his mother in a
bomb explosion—or what the film assumes we will perceive as an explosion
despite the risibly poor visual effects. He arrives in America with an
un-American dream: to carry out a vague mission against The Great Satan.
He’s a member of a terrorist cell disguised a student. Within the first
few minutes, it’s clear that Zelko is going to waste a rare golden
opportunity to carve a three-dimensional character from a Middle Eastern
lead, but if you stick with the film, characterizations only get more
disappointing. Ali meets only a handful of people in America, each a
poorly sketched archetype to convey one of Zelko’s shallow ideas.
Writing about these characters grants them much more legitimacy than
they deserve, but two of them stick out like particularly sore thumbs.<br />
<br />
Aside from Lana, who reveals herself to be the Hooker with a Heart of
Gold, there’s Suleyman (Harry Lennix), an American Muslim inelegantly
worked into the film to offset any accusation of Islamophobia—did you
know there are Muslims who smile and will not give you unsolicited
lectures on Middle Eastern history? There’s also Sara (Tara Holt), an
attractive Jewish classmate. Ali briefly has a fling with her, only to
violently push her back when he learns of her religion. This
relationship provides the film’s most consistent source of unintentional
laughs, what with Holt’s horrid performance—her flirting would be more
subtle if she walked into every scene stark naked—and the film’s
careless (and somewhat anti-Semitic) resolution to their break-up. It’s
hard to imagine who is offended more at the implications of this
relationship: Muslims, Jews, men, women, or blondes (who, in the opinion
of the film, are definitely dumb).<br />
<br />
<i>The Algerian</i> is not offensive because it doesn’t abide by rules of
political correctness, but because of its sheer incompetence on every
level. This is a film in which story and plot are both mistaken for
relentless exposition; political nuance is forgone in favour of the
simple rule of thumb that America is superior to the rest of the world;
the ambiguity of race and gender relations convey the filmmaker’s
misunderstanding of both; and performances are delivered with all the
grace and poise of a corporate sexual harassment video. It is hard to
encounter a film that lacks even a single redeeming quality; that <em>The Algerian</em> achieves that is probably its biggest accomplishment.<br />
</div>
Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7851047969833687803.post-72244711598585447182015-06-24T10:18:00.000-04:002015-06-24T11:42:40.846-04:00The Face of an Angel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUFB1R8RVnDCg2s-TUy4KX4p7JehYGKV8IauCQmL0lHHlHHersbgUo67dVEF_rG0PGrud9r04NMRu7iClVFxu-RCRKBQGOhgdLuV3mUqh0jB-0Vx2AWMB0sWJfX0XLnRnYwCE08Odl-M/s1600/373c26b98c08cbee7995b7d76149ef82.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUFB1R8RVnDCg2s-TUy4KX4p7JehYGKV8IauCQmL0lHHlHHersbgUo67dVEF_rG0PGrud9r04NMRu7iClVFxu-RCRKBQGOhgdLuV3mUqh0jB-0Vx2AWMB0sWJfX0XLnRnYwCE08Odl-M/s400/373c26b98c08cbee7995b7d76149ef82.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>*This review was originally written for <a href="http://moviemezzanine.com/the-face-of-an-angel-review/">Movie Mezzanine</a>. </i><br />
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<div class="single-box clearfix entry-content" itemprop="articleBody">
Humdrum thrillers are hardly in short supply
in Hollywood. But when this kind of formulaic and intellectually vapid
genre piece is directed by one of the most irreverent directors of the
past two decades, the result is particularly disheartening—as is the
case with Michael Winterbottom’s latest film, <i>The Face of An Angel</i>.
A fictionalized account of Amanda Knox’s story, the film is contrived,
confusing, and, despite dense plotting, severely lacking in emotional or
thematic depth.<br />
<br />
Thomas (Daniel Brühl) is a filmmaker whose life is on a personal and
professional downward spiral. Having traveled to Italy in the midst of
the trial of an American girl—Jessica Fuller (Genevieve Gaunt) is
accused of murdering a fellow exchange student, Elizabeth (Sai Bennett),
with whom she shared an apartment—Thomas finds the story he craves for
his next project. His first contact in the city of Siena is British
freelance journalist Simone Ford (Kate Beckinsale) who is one of several
English-language journalists covering the mayhem. Thomas’ interest is
further piqued when international attention on the story has turned the
gruesome murder into a sensationalized endless feeder for the tabloids.
Disappointed with the lack of reality and integrity in the coverage of
the story, the director decides that fiction might be the way to reach
the truth. The film-to-be within the film thus becomes a meta-textual
commentary on Winterbottom’s own misgivings about the media.<br />
<br />
Winterbottom, whose career has been a roller-coaster ride of excellent highs such as <i>The Trip</i> and dreadful lows like <i>9 Songs</i>,
tries to cram as much as possible into the film, thematically and
stylistically. The plotting is so long-winded that the story is
virtually forgotten; the sole purpose of every scene is to advance the
plot one step further instead of actually serving insights into media
manipulation. There is more than one romantic subplot in a film that
barely register yet each is worked in so forcefully, like some Hollywood
gesture that merely needed to be checked off Winterbottom’s list of
cinematic obligations. It is never clear, for example, why the audience
is shown Simone’s failing marriage in the background when it is
immediately rendered irrelevant within the first half.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Similarly, Thomas’s producers are cursory inclusions, only present so
he can bluntly explain his diatribe about what modern cinema and
journalism should be. The film lacks the subtlety to imply any of its
messages, instead stopping the proceedings so it can hold our hand and
lead us to the chalkboard where everything is explicitly mapped out.
Worse yet, any attempt at digging deeper into the characters turns into a
juvenile rambling about spirituality. If the idea of the multi-faceted,
self-reflexive narrative looked good on paper, in execution,
Winterbottom has bitten off a far bigger chunk than he can chew.
Blending reality and fiction—while integrating flashbacks, dreams,
hallucinations, and philosophizing about love, marriage, grief,
mortality, morality, and world media—Winterbottom creates a hodgepodge
of elements that never truly coalesce.<br />
<br />
There are individual elements that rise above the film, though.
Hubert Taczanowski’s cinematography is outstanding—crafting a tense
atmosphere in Siena’s dimly lit, cobblestone streets, leaving one
wondering what might have been had the film spent the time to develop a
more intimate sense of the milieu. Cara Delevingne’s performance is a
breath of fresh air in a film that feels otherwise entirely synthetic.
Her Melanie, an English student working at a Siena bar, is almost an
extension of her cool, vibrant real life personality and lightens the
film with genuine energy intermittently. But alas, these moments are all
too brief. <i>The Face of an Angel</i> is rarely boring, but by the
time CGI monsters needlessly appear, it is clear that the filmmaker has
completely lost his grip on the story. Sadly, the film runs for another
40 minutes after that.</div>
Amirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06862108887275338771noreply@blogger.com1