Director(s): Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud. Screenplay: Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud. Cast: Chiara Mastroianni, Catherine Deneuve, Danielle Darrieux and Simon Abkarian. Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics. Runtime: 95 min. Rating: Pg-13.
Based on Marjane Satrapi's own animated series—and brought to life by herself with the help of Vincent Paronnaud—Persepolis is a technical triumph as much as it is a striking evocation of growing up, a testament to what the cinema can transcend through artistry coupled with humanism. As brazenly honest as films about their own creators go, Persepolis recounts Satrapi's (Voiced by Lopes as a young girl) coming of age from 1979's Iranian revolution to her move to Vienna in the 80's during her adolescence (she is voiced by Mastroianni an adolescent and an adult). It is, indeed, a time of political crisis in Iran, as in each frame their is an echo of threats and distrusts, from her father's (voiced by Abkarian) hope to her mother's (voiced by Deneuve) rightful unwillingness to comply with the government. Each chapter—the film is framed by time segments—contains its own joys and laughs; but as a whole, through the austerity of the animated images comes a poignantly simple, unpretentious and utterly sincere tale of what it means to grow up through a time of war and suffering. That it does this through its masterful aesthetic design—from the beautiful eyes of little Marjane to each unique frame—only helps to create a marvel of animation. But none of this is fake. No, Persepolis, as truthful as stories come, is a work of true expression. Unlike so many of today's superficial films, you can feel the director spilling her emotions in every frame.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Persepolis (2007): A-
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Juno (2007): B
Director(s): Jason Reitman. Screenplay: Diablo Cody. Cast: Ellen Page, Michael Cera, Jennifer Garner, Jason Bateman, Olivia Thirlby, J.K. Simmons, Allison Janney, Rainn Wilson and Lucas MacFadden. Distributor: Fox Searchlight Pictures. Runtime: 92 min. Rating: PG-13.
The brilliance of Juno is in the way it presents itself to the audience. After the pretentious, smug, absurdly overrated Thank You for Smoking, I walked in with low expectations; totally unlike Jason Reitman's previous film, Juno is a wonderfully unpretentious character study that, in the long run, ends up being more touching than any recent comedy has the right to be. The film stars Ellen Page—and inhabiting it perfectly—as its titular character Juno, a sixteen year old who finds herself knocked up by her best friend (Michael Cera); abortion seems to not exactly be Juno's most-wanted option, as she opts for foster parents (Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman) to take care of her child once born. Reitman unpretentiously frames his narrative through seasons, while Cody's witty script seems to beautifully encapsulate Juno's overall psyche through each one. And while the film's first fifteen minutes or so are incredibly dull and dowdy in their familiarity, Juno marvelously finds its soul—by the end, it achieves an unfathomably graceful, almost pitch-perfect harmony.
The Savages (2007): B
Director(s): Tamara Jenkins. Screenplay: Tamara Jenkins. Cast: Laura Linney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Philip Bosco, Peter Friedman, Gbenga Akinnagbe and Cara Seymour. Distributor: Fox Searchlight Pictures. Runtime: 113 min. Rating: R.
Tamara Jenkins' new film, The Savages, deals with the ubiquitous dilemma of dealing with the elders when they can no longer care for themselves. While the film takes a different approach then the brilliant aesthetic qualities and profound themes of Away from Her, Jenkins' work clearly stresses this as its theme, its modus operandi a more comical yet nevertheless biting portrayal of a similar situation to that as Sarah Polley's work. It is one, conversely, about two siblings, playwrights Jon and Wendy (Philip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney), forced to roadblock their "lives" in favor of taking care of their Dementia-diagnosed father (Peter Friedman); all three go into the whole nursing home crisis, the narrative dutifully dramatizing their plight through comedy and extraordinarily well framed character development. However, it's Hoffman and Linney's pas de deux, bent to Jenkins' acutely stinging writing, that is what robs the show—despite the fact that, unfortunately, it is aestheticized with a buoyant, often un-moving manner. Jenkins can't exactly avoid genre conventions—moments are contrived and predictable—yet The Savages has this bleak, rare sting that comes to it all in a remarkable fashion; while at first light, there is a cached profoundity to the film, ultimately the film's true virtue.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Drama/Mex (2006): B-
Director(s): Gerardo Naranjo. Screenplay: Gerardo Naranjo. Cast: Fernando Becerril, Juan Pablo Castaneda, Diana Garcia, Martha Claudia Moreno, Miriana Moro and Emilio Valdés. Distributor: IFC First Take. Runtime: 93 min. Rating: NR.
Gerardo Naranjo's sophomore feature, Drama/Mex, is as unhinged as its protagonists. The film plays out as an Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu hybrid, dubiously and forcefully trying to connect three stories that are uncoiling in Acapulco. The first is that of Fernanda (Diana Garcia), who runs into Chano (Emilio Valdes), her ex boyfriend, at a cafe; the next thing you know, they're in bed. In this case, the drama is that, familiar as it may seem, she already has a boyfriend named Gonzalo (Juan Pablo Castaneda). At the same time, another tedious narrative thread follows Mariana, who, just after being hired by fellow prostitutes, spots Jaime (Fernando Becerril)—a pretty-damn-old man who has such meaningless life that he basically goes to the city to kill himself—and gets him to feed her, entertain her, and shelter her. Despite its grand and promising opening sequence, filled with ambition and audacity, the main problem with Drama/Mex, of course, is its callously exasperating narrative; jaundiced to its very core, it ends up going all over the place, as we now find Gonzalo attacking Chano, Jaime at the club, Fernanda running all over the place, and Mariana buying anything she can. What starts out as a finely nuanced, audaciously handsome drama evolves into a frustrating imbroglio, with a familiar ending that fails to unite its narrative threads; culminating happily, yet with a profound feel—and, as odd as it may seem, such disaster can be pliantly interpreted, even appealingly. Indeed, Drama/Mex is not entirely with out its merit: Naranjo's mesmerizing camera work fits its milieu perfectly, and the fact that he studies his characters first, before sending them to ruin, is proof of its boundless self-confidence—all of which are perpetuated by the miraculous cast which beautifully portrays the dubious situations.
Monday, December 3, 2007
The Violin (2005): B+
A strikingly accurate, yet minimalistic and starkly self-reflexive depiction of war, Francisco Vargas Quevedo's The Violin may be one of the greatest Mexican films—an independent one at that—the country has released in quite some time. The film has been adapted from a 15 minute short of the same name—also directed by Vargas—though its unforgettable story of war is no less humanistic and tender, particularly given its violent opening scene: one is thrust into the depths of peasants in the midst of torture, their captors in search of rebels running a civil war against the military. This really plays as the ending, given its main narrative thread is Don Plutarco (Angel Tavira), an old, very wise man who passes as a violin player in order to seize ammo for his cause of the civil war. In his path lies a music-loving commander, who ultimately really ends up friending Plutarco until the film's last scene. Yet The Violin rings with an unfathomable amount of tenderness, whether portrayed through the lens of Vargas' austerely sumptuous black-and-white cinematography to non actor Angel Tavira's incredibly realistic role; the man won best actor at last year's Cannes. And Vargas' realization of the camaraderie amongst the peasants is also surprisingly and warmly portrayed, essentially giving the film its humanistic feel. That Vargas' storytelling is unique and rarely found makes The Violin another fantastic testament against the evils of war.
Live-In Maid (2004): B
Jorge Gaggero's first feature, Live-In Maid, is a pleasant surprise. The film stars Norma Aleandro as Beba, a bourgeois woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown right before late 2001, when Argentina's economy, already substantially weakened, reached an unprecedentedly bad state. This said, the film's other main protagonist is Dora (Norma Argentina), Beba's live in maid who's already worked at the there for thirty years. As Dora starts to realize that her quite moody boss has barely enough money to pay substantial victuals (as well as her own wage), she decides to take off. It's here where Gaggero's film, especially as his exceedingly nuanced script and wonderful camera work further evoke the time and place, reaches superlative heights—an aspect that only aids the film's astute commentary; essentially, Gaggero recognizes them—especially Dora—as real people. As Beba and Dora's relationship heightens off of the realization that each has his/her identity, their, as well as the film's intimacy, grows by a fantastic amount. Gaggero's script also recognizes the warmth among them; at times funny, piercing, and poignant, it gains heft as it goes along—finally resulting, despite superfluous aesthetic thrust, in a true friendship, as well as something to truly ruminate about.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Paprika (2006): B+
From the opening scene to the last, it is clear that Paprika is Satoshi Kon's own paradoxical confession. His new film, an exhilarating, mind-blowing and audaciously satisfying anime, is about Paprika, the peppy dream-detective alter ego of the cold-as-ice Dr. Atsuko Chiba (Megumi Hayashibara), who, after hearing about the theft of the D.C Mini—an object that allows for dream eavesdropping—is forced to stop the dream invader using the actual hacking people's dream sleep as well as stop the dreams that are merging among them. Although Kon's narrative is more complicated than anything imagined, one must realize it is a dream. And don't dreams progress in such a way? Paprika's brilliance comes from Kon's breakneck attention to tempo. Switching from REM sleep to real life, his narrative is so aesthetically developed that it's no wonder that it is so entertaining. Also his ability to shape his characters—specifically Chiba—into cold, one-dimensional characters recalling noir. More than that, however, Paprika is proof of the Japanese advancement in the animated genre that truly leaves American counterparts stuck in the sandbox.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Ocean's Thirteen (2007): C+
There's no denying the slight slickness and rendered fun of Steven Soderbergh's Ocean's Thirteen, but the problem is exactly that—everything is slicked up to say to the point of monotonous anesthetics. This time around, it's the whole gang getting payback on some rich-ass casino magnate (Pacino) for putting the gangs idle, Reuben (Gould), in the hospital. Their plan, you ask? Steal the money from his new, shiny hotel, just waiting, yes waiting, to get robbed. The cast doesn't really act—they're just having their fun. Is it entertaining? Yes. Is it good acting? No. Still Entertaining? Yes. The script, as usual, is a load of randomly placed, moronically realized garbage, yet the actors love it, and they use it to their cannon. Is it good acting now? No. Along side Soderberg's slick but uneven camera movements, slick mise-en-scene, and slick cinematography, Ocean's Thirteen still has that insouciant charm, but after the film's unexpected climax, it wears down. I suspect that the easiest comparison to the film is definitely a sugar high. Take your pick.
La Vie en Rose (2007): C-
Usually, biopics have a tough time balancing an adequate narrative with the life of the subject. Olivier Dahan's newest film, La Vie en Rose, is no exception to such a precedent. A hideously esoteric affair so claustrophobic in essence to the point in which you want to run out of the theater for a breath of fresh air, La Vie en Rose fails to lucidly encapsulate singer Edith Piaf's (played by Marion Cotillard) life, shamelessly taking key points in her life and ripping them to pieces through an erroneous and essentially blemished narrative; one of pure mediocrity, it jumps all over the place sans any particular raison d'etre: one day, Piaf is 6, the next day, she's 45, the next day, she's 24, and the next-next day she is dead. Piaf's life makes for an appealing premise: the girl—poor, un-cared for by her mother, and most of the time sick—suffered much when little; indeed, if anything, the film does accurately capture her suffering, but it's when Dahan starts framing certain scenes as clichés that the problems start. I don't know what the hell such a glitched narrative is of good use for, but here, it ruins everything—as Piaf grows up, she discovers her talent, then sings, gets drunk, almost gets married, is born (oh, whoops, wrong order), sings, collapses, then, as unfortunate as it may seem, dies. The film is so caught up in the fundamentals of the incoherent narrative that it leaves everything—specifically Cotillard's dazzling performance—un-cared for, also blatantly leaving you monotonously awed at the screen in desperation. Piaf's life was, indeed, tragic, but the film only lays tragedy upon tragedy, and death upon death in such a melodramatic way that all you want to do is leave. Hideously manipulated, La Vie en Rose has, for all intents and purposes, failed Piaf, as its final shot dares not evoke a tragic ending—more proof that La Vie en Rose is as commercial as French films get. And that is not, not, a good thing.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Terror's Advocate (2007): B
Dictators. Terrorists. War Criminals—I don't know where the hell to start, except to say that Jacques Vergès has basically defended them all. Director Barbet Schroeder's new documentary centers on the man himself, a slick, even quite narcissistic defender of all, starting from iconic Algiers bomber Djamilla to Nazi war criminal Klaus Barbie, as well as Holocaust denier Roger Garaudy and famous terrorist "Carlos". "I'd even defend Bush!", he says. Respectably, the tone to match with this type of subject is slick as the man himself, and Schroeder vividly aestheticized his material by transcending a myriad of talking heads and old archival footage throughout; the film is chronologically structured, and as it goes along, it seems to luxuriate and crescendo in its rhythm. When Terror's Advocate chooses to become an unnecessarily complex political thriller, it does stray away from its primary subject; yet nevertheless, Schroeder's film is elegantly made and fascinating.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Before the Devil Knows You're Dead (2007): B+
"May you be in heaven half an hour... before the devil knows you're dead," reads the opening title of Sidney Lumet's new film, named after the latter part of this irish toast. It refers to the brutish case of two brothers, Andy (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Hank (Ethan Hawke), who have planned to rob their sympathetic parents' jewelery store—and while I won't go as far as to reveal Before the Devil Knows You're Dead's ending, what happens after is a catastrophe, as it seems. In crafting a successful caper picture, Lumet, whose Dog Day Afternoon ranks high on one of the best New York films ever made, has done it: whether via the fraught narrative—jumping back in forth among the characters and time, ultimately adding a unique feel for the film—or brutal control of tone and atmospherics, this is a hard-boiled film. Yet masqueraded by its bestial surface, there is a certain and ambiguous message throughout: that of family. This moral tie at first is not as illustrated, but as the brothers' family joins the matter as it crescendos in irreversibility, it becomes furthermore lucid: what the hell is wrong with these people? As usual, Lumet's tight, bleak direction helps elevate what could have been an archetypal rip off to superlative level. Along with Phillip Seymour Hoffman's and Ethan Hawke's excellent acting, this is a film of startling brutality and methodicalness, told with the feeling of total conviction and some sort of incredibility.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Michael Clayton (2007): C+
With Michael Clayton, screenwriter turned director Tony Gilroy evokes the dashing breed of studio film more common in the 70's and 80's. A scrupulous endeavor, for sure—yet nevertheless flawed. As the title suggests, Clooney plays Michael Clayton, a "fixer" at a gigantic NYC based law firm, his partner Marty (a subdued, typical Syndey Pollack) playing main man as well as the runner. Yet the film chronicles and centers on Clooney, as he finds himself in the middle of one of the biggest cases in the law firm's history: a man (the great Tom Wilkinson), off his medication, finds himself naked and chasing around one of the primary witnesses in another case. Another firm—led by Tilda Swinton's (magnificent as usual) character—is on it as well, and from there the show is on. Formidably, Gilroy has no problem establishing a nifty tone with the film's narrative threads, but it's his decision to throw in superfluous subplots and contrived narrative structure that abates what could have been a flawless concotion. At times, surprisingly, the film looses its wonderful rhythm, but the wonderful palette of emotions—mimicked by excellent cinematography—is able to balance out to match Clooney's character. But you walk out with a grimacing sensation—satisfied but still hungry; not unlike its main character, this is a film that is smartly overcomplicated.
Friday, October 5, 2007
The Valet (2006): C-
The Valet lamentably trembles in the shadow of this year's Avenue Montaigne. Both exude an immeasurable amount of pretentiousness that lead up to the each film's demise. Whereas the latter was about following the pathways of love, this one is about uncovering them, as the film's main narrative follows François (Gad Elmaleh), a valet at a shmancy-dancy restaurant, and his journey of ill-fated luck. It all starts when industrialist Pierre (Daniel Auteuil) is photographed with his longtime mistress, fashion-plate Elena (Alice Taglioni); he covers his ass by telling his wife (Kristin Scott Thomas) that the gorgeous blonde was not with him but with the passerby next to them in the tabloid snapshot, that person being François. Aesthetically, The Valet evokes not a single shard of brilliance—everything in the film is blown up to a matter of acute pretension, from the overheated spy-like music to predictable comedic sequences that in the end, muster not a single laugh. Much like Avenue Montaigne, the film lacks nuance, something that brings back the feeling of Hollywood once again. And what the hell is up with that ending? Does one really need yet another laugh?
Salvador Allende (2004): C
An official selection at last year's Cannes Film Festival, Salvador Allende is the real story about the famous socialist president who rose to power in the 1970's. The film's main structure is on Salvador Allende, but through out the 94 minutes, the film can get easily exasperating. Salvador Allende identifies its main points very clearly and accurately, but the way it portrays them is rather daft. The film also seems like a directors debut; many scenes are useless, and badly structured. But what saves the film is all on facts. The in-depth analysis of the real story about Salvador Allende makes the only compelling part. Some parts of the film make it a "must-see'", but I'd recommend it only because of its facts.
(This review was written way back in October of 2006, as coverage of a mini Human Rights Festival at my local art-house theater.)
Thursday, October 4, 2007
The Cranes Are Flying (1957): A
A testament to the portrayal of the evils of war in film, as well as a richly timeless creation in post-Stalin politics filmmaking, Mikhail Kalatozov's The Cranes Are Flying is a work in which expression is thoroughly multifaceted in every aspect of filmmaking -- while breaking your heart. A woman (Tatanya Samojlova), Veronika, and her recently found true love, are brilliantly unified and illustrated via a shot of cranes. This exquisite image also comes back to haunt her: the next time they appear, the resonance of the image is shattered -- [Spoiler Alert] someone is missing. Tonal shift is key in the film, especially as Veronika's sense of dejection increases; via desolate, even tacit camera-work and mise-en-scene, Kalatozov is masterfully able to take her mood and increase it in melancholy in an insinuating matter. By the beautiful, unforgettable last sequence, you weep not for the events in her life, but to the hope that she will one day -- quite similarly to Grigori Chukhrai's 1959 masterpiece Ballad of a Soldier -- refind herself in the confines of her memory.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Eastern Promises (2007): B+
Anna (Naomi Watts) stumbles across the dead body of a 14 year old Ukranian prostitute; as her conscience pecks at her to find out exactly who is responsible, she takes it upon herself to crack the case—and sooner or later, in typical Cronenbergian fashion, characters—including Nikolai, played by he fantastic Viggo Mortensen—deadly secrets, and insidious doings are uncovered. Throughout the film, hints of his masterpiece A History of Violence are mimicked, particularly in tone and tension; as usual, there's this whole creepy and perfectly realized mood that more than efficiently perpetuates the fine acting with the causticly stark narrative. Gradually escalating it progresses (climaxing with naked Viggo fight scene, which is pure mastery; it unfolds in almost real time, and you can even feel the death just as in the last sequence in Violence), Eastern Promises is, furthermore, proof that Cronenberg is one hell of a director; it is an enthralling and hellish film, as well as an unforgettable one.
