I just got in from the closing night gala premiere of CURSE OF THE GOLDEN FLOWER, and while I’m getting ready to write that review, I thought I’d post Psychedelic’s first batch of reviews of what he’s seen at the fest. I actually ran into him at the Arclight several times over the course of the event, and I think he’s kicked my ass in terms of number of films seen by almost two to one.
Hey Harry and Cinematic Maniac Brainiacs,
The Acid-Mushroom mix was good. Birth canal fluids oozed from the floor. Sperm squiggled across walls. Vibrant colors of seduction mist erupted from every woman while neon feathers purred from corners. Swimming in sonic desire waves of intuition, I’ve plunged into the 2006 AFI Fest at the ArcLight theatres in Hollywood.
The Host
Korean director Bong Joon-Ho hits another one out of the ballpark with his follow-up to the superb Memories of Murder. A nasty lizard-mammal-beast pounces out of the river and chomps on good citizens. But this only scratches the surface. The number of layers is remarkable. The base is a monster movie, with environmental undertones. At the heart it is a family drama with well-drawn characters, yet there’s a socio-political message as well. The family is a portrait of dysfunction with the generations not communicating. In a classic scene, the adult children fall asleep while the elderly father lectures about what’s wrong with the world. The government “quarantines” anyone who might be exposed to the monster’s disease. It’s a police state of fear worse than the monster. The Host is a candidate for my year’s top ten list and another shining example of the cinematic renaissance happening in Korea.
Motherland Afghanistan
Director Sedika Mojadidi, the grown daughter of an Afghanistan OB/GYN who immigrated to the States 30 years ago, follows her father on his annual journey to the homeland to provide care in wretched maternity wards. The first third is unfocused going randomly from event to event even though footage of the filthy hospital is illuminating. This section should have been dropped to focus on the rest. It finds its stride and becomes quite powerful. The documentary’s heart is in the scene of a premature baby being delivered. The doctor asks for a medical instrument and the nurses don’t know what it is or don’t have a proper one. They don’t even know to tie off the umbilical cord. This is preceded by a scene where a dead twin was removed from the mother’s womb. Footage of real dead babies is always upsetting, but I became an uncle for the first time two weeks ago. This documentary is informative but not for the faint of heart.
Next: A Primer On Urban Painting
Graffiti, urban painting, societal scrawl— director Pablo Aravena’s documentary chronicles this organic art from New York City in the 70s to around the world today. Berlin, London, Amsterdam, Los Angeles, and more are highlighted. The first two-thirds are visual narcotics. Energy spews across subways, walls, and across the screen. Directorial pyrotechnics match this energy with stop-motion photography and multiple images on screen. At one point, the screen divides into fourths. The last third, however, becomes redundant with Aravena running out of ideas. With primarily the visuals only discussed, the subject wears thin. Consideration of what is verbally written would be advisable. Generally speaking, the more the art goes into galleries, the more this documentary looses vibrancy.
Ten Canoes
A stranger from another tribe appears. Relations are strained but friendly. He leaves. Then a woman disappears, is never seen again, and battle breaks out between the two tribes. This is all told in flashback by a narrator who hovers above time who comments over men building canoes in black & white present. This very unique film follows Australian Aboriginal oral tradition in terms of structure. Visual style is very deliberate with a strong sensibility by director Rolf De Heer. A film I appreciate and to some degree admire rather than really dig or love. It’s still very interesting. If you’re sick of cookie-cutter “Three Act” Hollywood blahhh and you want to experience another way to do it, then give this a try. The language they speak is spoken by 200 people in the world and understood by only 2000.
After…
Two dudes and a dudette go extreme urban outfitting, errrr exploring rather. They go to Moscow and weird things assault. Yawns attack the audience. Director David L. Cunningham apparently doesn’t know what a tripod is. They’re not that expensive. It’s so shaky and poorly lit that the underground Russian locations don’t make much of an impact. They story’s dull, predictable, and the characters are barely two-dimensional.
Glue
Excellent naturalistic performances rule the day in this coming of age story from Argentina. Plot-wise nothing really interesting happens. A teenage guy has a girl he likes, a good friend, and his parents are semi-separated. He drinks. He sniffs glue in one scene. It’s quite compelling at times, but drags way too much. The nervous energy of being alone with a girl comes across; the thrill of getting high and drunk is there. Director Alexis Dos Santos gives his actors plenty of breathing room and it shows, for both better and worse. It could loose 20 minutes. Hand-held camera is overdone though sometimes effective.
Frozen Days
Director Danny Lerner cooks a delicious slice of early Roman Polanski paranoia. A hustling drug dealer (played by very beautiful, sexy, and talented Anat Klausner) goes to meet a guy she met online. Events take a drastic unexpected turn and she assumes his identity. Then the whole notion of identity is put through a contorted maze. The atmosphere at the beginning has an extremely captivating groove. Tel Aviv’s dirty streets are made of dark instincts where violence explodes in the background. Ram Shweky’s black & white cinematography is fantastic with one pulsating scene of color. Coming from Israel, it’s refreshingly not about politics. It’s a tad predictable near the end. But in short: Awesome! I want the DVD now. It’s shot on DV, made for peanuts, the first feature length of everyone involved, but far transcends those origins.
The Lives of Others
The cinema of good intentions is difficult ground to yield delicious fruit. There’s a huge difference between something cared about versus a flaming passion. East Berlin in 1984 crushes citizens with paranoid secret police. A chief officer spies on a leading playwright searching for anything “disloyal”. Then something funny happens. The officer sees the playwright is a good man and doesn’t report him. Suspense derives from the playwright’s anti-government acts and the officer covering up. The officer’s emotional turning point is really lame. Research is abundant onscreen, but a better movie can be made of this historical period. It’s well done but not wonderful, yet feel-good enough that most audiences will lap it up. Writer-director Florian Henkel von Donnersmarck needs a subject he has a true crush on. If this was American, it’d be big Oscar bait.
Fissures
The premise is good. Set in France, a documentary sound recordist goes home when her mother dies. The house makes creepy creaky noises she records, but then she hears voices from the past. It’s De Palma’s Blow Out with a supernatural twist. Lead actress is Emilie Dequenne is terrific, but given nothing to do. She spends the whole movie listening, crying and putting tape on strung out yarn. The mystery of her mother’s death is not very interesting. Writer-director Alante Kavaite has some talent but a long way to go.
Shoot The Messenger
No holds barred politically incorrect dramatic dark comedy from Britain tells of a black school teacher who’s suspended on trumped up assault charges. Then he hates all black people blaming them for everything bad. David Oyelowo galvanizes the screen as the former teacher. He falls to dark depths through a mental hospital then finally living on the street before pulling together. He pushes buttons left and right wanting to punish everyone for what happened, but with sharp wit. Ngozi Onwurah’s energetic direction and Sharon Foster’s cutting script make an entertaining combination even if they lay the messages on too thick at times. Everything is held at mocking distance even though the leering superiority is part of the fun. Imagine Spike Lee with a sense of humor adapting David Mamet’s Edmond.
Back Home
J.B. Rutagarama directs his own intensely personal story of being a Rwanda refugee returning years later in this documentary. Rutagarama hooked up with a NBC news crew and was able to get out of the country during the slaughter. The rest of his family went missing. Raw hate was everywhere. His return journey is full of heartbreak and anger. He tries not to be consumed with vengeance. Dead bodies, bones, and starvation from the past weigh on the present. Instead of executing everyone involved with the genocide, village reconciliations are held where perpetrators publicly confess and then pay for crimes. I could nitpick on various aspects— wooden voice over, some hokey staged scenes—but overall it’s very powerful. Real life reunions and emotion recollections triumph. I’ve seen many excellent documentaries this year and this comes near the top.
Inland Empire
David Lynch allows dream logic and random juxtaposition to reign free in his latest. Laura Dern is an actress who gets a big part with a great director. Then she becomes a street hooker, or does she? Then there are people with bunny rabbit heads who live on a sitcom set. Prostitutes do musical numbers. It’s one hell of a head spinning ride of unadulterated Lynch. You live in a herky-jerky bad dream for two of its three hours. If you love David Lynch already, like I do, and merrily follow to whatever wackyland he ventures—you’ll love this. It’s one of his most inaccessible works and not advised for Lynch beginners. Laura Dern is superb getting to play at least three roles worth of material. It’s shot on DV and made off and on over many years. Lynch wrote it as he went along and massaged it into a hypotonic tapestry. I look forward to seeing it again.
If all goes well, next time I’ll have reviews of Pan’s Labyrinth, Wristcutters: A Love Story, and two new movies by Johnnie To. Meanwhile, I wonder if the theatres will turn into ovaries.
-Psychedelic
