Heli (2014)

Armando Espitia in 'Heli' (2013)

‘Heli’ (2014) starts with an air of malice and keeps its tone laced with it throughout. In Armat Escalante’s Cannes Prize winner, Mexico is painted as a country struggling to get past its own image of itself, a nation that for historical, social and economical reasons, has not yet been able to lift away what it represents to most in the western world; an almost lawless land, dry and remote, that forgoes what holds most western societies together. Though much of the writing around the film has singled out the films more macabre scenes, what is interesting about the film is its depiction of a corrupt and hypocritical landscape that is at odds with the traditional family dynamic (a five person family living in a two person home, few working in more than manual labor; is it surprising that drugs become involved in these films?). Its depiction of masochistic acts of violence make for relentlessly grim viewing, yet if they were shown in any other context would they have the same scarring impact?

The prevalence of the war on drugs throughout the region is a sad truth that lingers over the film. Its startling opener, with the depiction of a gang related hanging, sets the stage for the rest of the films more blunt and curiously morbid scenes, scenes that have, inadvertently, come to define the film. The films title is in reference to the main character, an unremarkable factory worker supporting his young family in the same job as his father, who, at the start of the film, is visited by a representative of a national survey to ask about how many are living in the home, whether he is employed etc. As it becomes clear, schemes such as these do little to bring about change; in the current climate is it not the apathy that most of the country feels towards corrupt politicians that is more pressing? In a scene laced with irony, a spokesman proudly announces a recent operation uncovering and destroying an unknown quantity of drugs despite the fact that it is the drug business that gives him this high position to begin with.

Unknown to Heli, with the stress of a job and parental responsibility, is the plan that his sister Estella and her boyfriend Beto have for their own future, where they naively cling to the hope that, after Beto comes into possession of a bag of cocaine, they will be able to sell and leave within a heartbeat. Once Heli learns of what is happening it’s already too late; all in a blink, there’s nothing he can do stop what is about to happen. In a telling interview with The Guardians Catharine Shoard, the director talks about the ‘grabbed from the headlines’ nature of the film’s scene of extended torture and humiliation, a scene that may seem fictitious or masochistic in approach if it weren’t for the films social context. As Escalante goes on to say in the interview, it’s not an empty or thin provocation but an everyday reality in parts of Mexico that girls as young 14 are pregnant and pictures of decapitations are spread across the front page. In that respect, the scenes of unimaginable cruelty can be imagined as a terrifying reality; whom can Heli trust if he can’t even trust members of his own family?

A cast of relative unknowns helps the likeness to everyday events; in the films more intimate scenes, it is the rushed and amateurish (if always professional) approach to the snog or sex that makes the film more lifelike, more tangible and, in its own way, more dangerous- the closer the film gets towards realism the closer it begins to reach the world of political film-making with bite. More pressing perhaps is the position that Heli holds when held up against films tackling the issue of corruption and exploitation in the ongoing war on drugs. There’s ‘Miss Bala’ (2011) a lavish tale of beauty queens and gangland violence; ‘Maria Full of Grace’ (2004) from Columbia, the critically acclaimed drama that, much like Heli, is grounded and complicated by the central family dynamic. Among these films it could be said that the effect that Heli has comes off as more of a soft tap on the shoulder rather than landing a knockout punch.

After the now infamous scene of torture, the film is slower but more contemplative. It doesn’t turn into a revenge thriller as one may expect and instead shows the hypocrisy that has become all too common with the police force in Mexican society. Heli continues in his job, tries to mend his broken relationship with his partner and waits for his sisiter to come home. The police are in the background but don’t seem to pay much attention (in fact a scene involving the arousal of Heli by the sight of the police officers breasts becomes reminiscent of Carlos Reygadas’s ‘Post Tenebras Lux’ (2013) with its daydreaming surrealist atmosphere beginning to creep into the world of Heli). It’s a bold curve ball that isn’t distancing or alienating. Its truthful of what these characters are; women in the film are wives and men are men, driven by their impulses. Its scenes like these that transcend the films obvious limitations (unprofessinonal cast, small budget etc.) and stake a claim for the films existence beyond its obvious social agenda. It’s an uncompromising depiction of a society not sure of what lies ahead but there is little about Heli that breaks new ground.

Just around the corner

67th Cannes Film Festival has drawn to a close

2014 has nearly reached its halfway point. In that time films have landed and sunk, swam to acclaim and been awash with controversy, boo’s and laughter, a stroking of the chin and a hand reaching for the last popcorn in the bag. I can’t say that the year has shown its true colours as of yet but it has had me doing all of the above, culminating in a smorgasbord of ideas, countries and beautiful people (other than the annual ‘The Room’ screening). What can be certain and uncertain all at the same time is what lies ahead. It can’t be seen what effect they will have (fascinatingly good or fatuously misguided?) but these films hold a curiosity all unto their own.

‘Mary is Happy, Mary is Happy’ (Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit)

First came ‘The Social Network’ (2010), placing Facebook firmly in people’s consciousness as the dawn of a new generation; a generation that has replaced the face to face with a keyboard at a coffee shop and laughter with a three letter word. It’s also a generation that is handicapped by the need to be connected at a push of a button or swipe of screen (that’s why Spike Joneze’s ‘Her’ (2013) resonates so deeply in my mind). Thai director Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit’s ‘Mary is Happy, Mary is Happy’ (2014), about a real-life twitter feed incorporated into a tale about the final year of high school student, promises, as he stated in a recent interview with Sight and Sound (June 2014), to be something all together more abstract and less straight forward; “As the writer, I’m in control of Mary’s thoughts, yet I am also being controlled by Mary’s tweets”. This process of adapting tweets, about what someone sees and thinks, seems to be perfectly suited to a medium indebted to that simple philosophy. Along with the directors other film ‘36’(2014)- about photographer’s defunct hard drive being the only connection she has to location scout she once knew- also out this year, Nawapol seems to be distinguishing himself as a filmmaker of the internet age and one with some very interesting things to say.

Camera Obscura: The Walerian Borowczyk Collection (and many others)

The reason I have chosen one of the 70’s and 80’s most underground filmmakers is simple; despite being pushed into general obscurity-praised by some, derided by others-it’s the first time for the new generation of film aficionados (including myself) to see newly restored digital prints of the directors work, work that hasn’t been available in a full collection in the UK until now and, with the trend in revaluating works becoming the norm (William Friedkin’s 1970’s flop ‘Sorcerer’ is just the most recent film in the growing trend), it’s only fitting that we can now bring back the forgotten back into filmic debate and consciousness. To me it’s a similar excitement that one would get if news broke of one of Hitchcock’s lost films were unearthed on one quiet Sunday morning, the chance to see something for the first time that, until now, we had only read about in the history books.

Other collections that are fast approaching are the ‘Werner Herzog Collection’ from the BFI, an extensive look at 18 of the director’s films from earlier in his career including many of his most praised works such as ‘Fitzcarraldo’ (1982) and ‘Aquirre, Wrath of God’ (1972). Throughout the coming months, Mark Cousins ‘A Story of Children and Film’ will be presenting a selection of other worldly treats across the UK, some for the very first time, and, as of this moment, may be your only chance to catch films from Iran’s Mohammad Ali Talebi or spend an evening with the children of ‘Long Live the Republic’ or a day with ‘Hugo and Josephine’

The 67^th Cannes Film Festival: “That’s a wrap everyone”

As of writing the Cannes Film Festival has just finished. Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s ‘Winter’s Sleep’ was awarded the Palme d’or, the disgraced ‘Grace of Monaco’ walked the red carpet to much booing and hissing from the press (and Grace Kelly’s family) and the Palm Dog (the best award at Canne?), awarding the best four legged performances of the festival, took place for its 4^th consecutive year. Walking through the films that have been playing in and out of competition, its hard not to feel slightly elated with all that we will have to look forward to; Cronenbergs ‘Maps to the Stars’, Mike Leigh’s ‘Mr Turner’, Bennett Millers Oscar bound ‘Foxcatcher’, Oliver Asssyas ‘Clouds of Sils Maria’; an eclectic mix that wets the appetite.

However, outside the safety net of recognizable art house talent (Goddard, the Dardenne brothers etc.), it’s the work of yet un-established or lesser-known talents that has garnered the most attention; if there’s one thing that critics love it’s the shock of the new and that new being very, very good. 25-year-old Xavier Dolan’s ‘Mommy’ won the Jury Prize (third place) tying with Jean Luc Goddard with ‘Goodbye to Language 3D’. With this being his fifth feature in so many years the prolific, auteur driven director is fast becoming a director to be reckoned with. Through his short career already he has, with insight, wit and technique, tackled heavily autobiographical subjects in ‘I killed my mother’, transgender politics in ‘Lawrence Anyways’ and a tale in debt to Hitchcock in the extremely well accomplished ‘Tom at the Farm’, a film about the cultural and generational gap that is apparent when Dolan’s character returns to his deceased lovers family farm, only to find out that they were not aware of their sons sexual orientation. With ‘Mommy’, everyone will be watching to see what’s next, and, by his track record, we wont have to wait long to find out.

Lastly of this list, Andrei Zvyagintsev’s ‘Leviathan’ has been proclaimed to be the real winner of the festival for some; a striking satire on Russia’s fragile political state, reportedly with equal amounts of humor and horror. The director is no stranger to Canne, with his previous film ‘Elena’ winning the Special Jury Prize award and winning, quite rightly by many of the films supporters, the best screenplay award at Canne this year. Much like this years Palme d’or winner, it may not be long until we see “Palme d’or winner” being added to his list of accolades.

It’s comforting to know (at least to my mind) that the year is in very confident hands, molding into what may even become a ‘quote unquote’ Vintage year. I don’t know whether any of its going to be any good; who knows, I may be jumping the gun and Grace of Monaco might actually be some misunderstood masterpiece.

Frank (2014)

Creating music in Frank (2014)

‘Frank’ is the rather jolly new film from Lenny Ambrahamson, a name that will escape many but shouldn’t. Ambrahamson is the director of ‘Garage’ (2007), a largely forgotten about film, which to me, cemented itself as something altogether new: dark but warm, sweet but bitter, a film shot and acted with a naturalism that has rarely been replicated so effectively (the only other film that comes to mind recently is Clio Bernard’s ‘The Selfish Giant’ (2013), a ken Loach influenced story of two working class boys and their mission to earn some money from working in the scrap yard).

Frank marks an unexpected shift in genre for the director-his last film ‘What Richard Did’ (2012) couldn’t be more different-but the tone throughout his films remains remarkably contingent; there’s often a playfulness, charm and warmth he lends to his characters that is balanced alongside some of his films more troubling elements (in Garage the main character Josie (Patt Short) rather disturbingly insist on watching a porno with his underage co-worker). What remains constant in his films is the titular character is or becomes an outcast. In Frank, the difference here is that the film doesn’t want to focus on a character in an every day situation (a student, drug addicts or a lonely garage attendant) but instead one of an optimistic dreamer.

Frank is based in spirit on the life of Frank Sidebottom, a fictional character created by Chris Sievy, an inspiring (and inspired?) signer/songwriter who came to fame after the creation of his papier-mâché alter ego. Based on an article written by John Ronson about the myth of Sidebottom, who also co-wrote the script with his ‘The Men Who Stare at Goats’ scribe Peter Straughan, Frank is a rags to rags story that, as the director stated in a recent interview at the SXSW film festival, recalls the “maverick genius” of the Frank sidebottom character, as recalled by Ronson’s time as the keyboard player of Franks ‘Oh Blimey Big Band’ in the 1980’s.

John (Domhnall Glesson) can’t seem to find his own voice, struggling to string together anything even remotely close to an original song (at the start we see John on the beach watching life pass by as he try’s to find an influence in the most mundane aspects of everyday life; seeing whether it really is that easy to unlock your creative side). Literally by chance John is introduced Franks band and inadvertently finds himself a reluctant member, replacing the keyboard player due to a botched (and melodramatic) suicide attempt. As the film weaves between the droll and the tender, it becomes apparent that there is an audience for Frank and his band of musical misfits, traveling to SXSW to step into the limelight and show the world what Frank is really all about.

The film, to some, has been hard for people to grapple with; similarly teetering on the edge of obscurity as Ken Russell’s ‘Tommy’ (1975) but also as whole-heartedly optimistic and lovely as last years unfairly forgotten ‘Good Vibrations’ (2013), along with a uncomfortable dose of the music of David Lynch. On top of it all there’s Frank, a strange creation mystifying and intriguing audiences and the band members alike. As it is well known now, underneath Frank is Michael Fassbender, exemplifying charismatically the inner qualities of Frank. How do you create a fully three-dimensional character when we can hardly ever see his face? It’s a question that both the director and star surely asked themselves; how do you convey warmth or humor without the use of facial expressions?

 

The tone must surely help. It’s rather bright and has a ‘live life to the full’ philosophy that exemplifies the life of many a young musician. Oddly this tone originally felt jarring and out of place; as if the pleasant and care-free form of the film was actively making it a lesser achievement, making it seem all together slighter than some may have come to expect. I still have a feeling that the film may only become a talking point for novelties sake at first, drifting into obscurity in the same way Frank’s band was hastily rushed off the stage at their first major gig. However, the tone seems fitting if only because of what Frank and John are: loveable outsiders with dreams as big as Franks rather over sized head. On a lesser note, the supporting characters are, almost unavoidably, less interesting.

Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Clara, a sarcastic and cynical member of the band, comes across as partially one-note because she only shows that side of herself; a down trotting group member who’s soul focus is admiring and encouraging Frank. Any revelation that may arise from the side characters seems predictable and out of sync with the films odd tone and charm. What the side characters do bring though is warmth to the adventure, as if, even though it is John and Franks journey, there is a sense of belonging that they each bring- it makes the closing final minutes all the more honest and the reunion all the more sweet; like watching the Adam’s family getting reunited.

The talking point really is Fassbender in the end. Taking the actor but hiding him under that fiberglass head looks to be distracting-is it really Fassbender under there you may ask? -  but on reflection Fassbender, despite the extra weight and pre-tense, exhibits Frank as a layered and three Dimensional character, movingly harboring a long suffering mental illness that hasn’t defined his creativity but actively hindered it. If we look at Fassbender throughout the film, the strength to his performance lies in how he exhibits the other elements of his body to convey his emotions-how do you show happiness without a welcoming smile or sadness and disorientation with a face that never changes?

Frank perhaps misses the target in reaching the everlasting cult status it hopes for-after all what sets this apart from the ever-increasing stories about the outsider and their journey to the height of their career? Lenny Ambrahamson’s film is about the outsider but it’s also about the curse and pleasure of being seen as that unique and alternative wonder kid, what so few modern films here think can go hand in hand.

The Railway Man (2014)

“The Railway Man” is a film that seems destined for awards. However, its destiny (so to speak), at its best is on hold, or even lost in the fever pitch of awards season. It has gained a total of zero Golden Globe, Academy Award or Bafta nominations much to what can only be the solemn sound of disappointment from the producers. Now, I am not stating here in haste that films can only be “good” or “rotten” by the amount of accolades it garners, in fact with ‘The Railway Man’ it is quite the opposite. If it had been nominated it would be seen as quite a surprise (some might even call it an upset) to seeing it sitting side by side with the likes of ’12 Years a Slave’ and ‘Gravity’.  Yet it seems so award friendly, so predictable at every turn and taking cautious steps that you almost forget that, what starts, in part, as a startling shake up to the way of doing Hollywood (and British) war movies, finds itself landing in unremarkable territory.

Colin Firth stars as the troubled war veteran Eric Lomax (with the film being based on his 1995 book of the same name). Eric, or simply “Lomax”, lives quietly, bothering no one and shows an enthusiasm for trains (though he does state later on that he is not, what we might call, ‘a trainspotter’).  On a seemingly unremarkable journey he makes a rash decision (as with many movie decisions) to switch, in the shortest possible window to catch a different train. Here, he meets Patricia (a very British Nicole Kidman), who soon becomes his wife. So far so Brief Encounter but the similarities end there. Eric’s past comes back to haunt him, where is it is the uncertainty of the future that keeps apart Trevor Howard and Cecilia Johnson in David Leans film.  

During the War, Eric, an officer stationed in Singapore, becomes a prisoner of War at the hands of the Japanese, and forced to work on the Thai-Burma Railway.  In his haste, the young Eric (here played by Jeremy Irvine at his very best) formats a team with one purpose: to increase morale among the captured.  However, once the Kempetai (the Japanese Military Police Force) find a homemade radio, Lomax takes the blame, forcing himself to be taken brutally aside from his comrades and subjected to unimaginable torture. Later on his life, the scars seemingly never healed and, with the help of fellow veteran Finlay (Stellan Skarsgard) and his wife, Eric confronts his past head on, when he comes face to face with Takashi Nagase (Hiroyuki Sanada), one of the men who subjected him to such cruelty.

The film was directed by Jonathan Teplitzky, a native Australian, who had only directed a handful of Australian pictures before this, approaches the material earnestly and composes shots that could easily as influenced by Spielberg (if it reminds you of any War film it wouldn’t be surprising if ‘Saving Private Ryan’ and ‘War Horse’ came to mind).  A handful of the performances (including Colin Firth and Jeremy Irvine) are among the best that they have given, whereas others -most notably Nicole Kidman- are underwritten, underperformed, strangely colder than expected. 

What remains central to the idea of ‘The Railway Man” is the notion of the aftermath and the psychological implications of war on oneself and their loved ones. Eventually through the film, Eric finds away (as unbelievable as it may sound) to forgive Takashi for what he has done, with the films ultimate goal of forgiveness seeming to be its overall gain. However, it can’t (as few films do) claim to work as Jean Renoirs La Grande Illusion does in humanizing war and, more importantly, the enemy.  Instead, it is a tale of heroism and grief, and how unsurprisingly how often the two are linked. By the end, Lomax and Takashi became very close friends and through the process, both men were able to find some peace to their suffering. Whether the film would have been able to issue some peace to these men will never be known, since both died not long before production began.

However, against all odds (powerful central performances, a harrowing true story of real bravery and humanity), the film runs along conventional lines.  The film is told in a series of flashbacks: one during the war and the other many years later where Lomax is confronting his past. The latter is tense and driven by compellingly distraught Colin Firth, whereas the former simply follows a ‘band of brothers’ as you have seen before, even if the enemy this time is given some form of character instead being just a “faceless enemy’. Furthermore, for a film that by the end is about the peace found by both men, the film is decidedly one sided. Whether the film could have been saved, or better still, elevated by more emphasis on Takashi will be something we can only ponder. Would  this approach have even been allowed? ‘The Railway Man’ is a film that is simply to sanitized, unable to truly show the horrors of what is surely one of the wars most unspeakable horrors. 

Mona Lisa (1986)

What is it about Mona Lisa that makes her so iconic? Is it the mastery on display in the fine details, the mystery that surrounds her or maybe it’s all of the above? The same stature surely applies to Neil Jordan’s equally beguiling 1986 feature “Mona Lisa”, in which the tale of the recently released ex-convict George (Bob Hoskins) chauffeuring around the exquisite and mysterious Simone (Cathy Tyson), lays bear a film that is much a noir as it is a romance, swimming in the styling’s of the period and showcasing the directors talents for weaving stories of enormous complexity.

Co-written by David Leland, Neil Jordan’s film opens with a violent display of affection, where George attempts to re-kindle his relationship with his family and make amends for what he has put them through. It’s a scene that is violent and heartfelt, showing the anger that has built up in George but also his compassion. It’s a trait that is both his strength and weakness when he meets Simone, a luxurious call girl, who is entrusted by his previous boss Mortwell, played with frightening conviction by Michael Caine, to take her from client to client. Slowly but surely, as the layers unfold from George’s personality he begins to see Simone for more than what he thinks she is.

With cinematography by Roger Pratt, the film brings out in vivid display a time engulfed in reds and blacks, a type of decoration some might now call Kitsch. It’s this world of neon lights and darkened back alleys, so realistically displayed, which adds to the films power: a gritty drama with an underlying beauty. It’s a compliment to Leland and Jordan that, while the film is as much a visual experience as any other, the script is never overshadowed by its style. Jordan later went on to make “The Crying Game”, arguably his very best, with similar themes of race, class and gender (to go to deep is to spoil the joy and mystery of the film) but the breakdown between the working and upper class, societies approach to dealing with the race divide and what makes a man a “man” is always present. Its themes, which in different ways perhaps with the advent of 9/11, still resonate today: Noir in look but a socially conscious drama for the times in feeling.

The film reveals its essential themes in no mad rush though, allowing time for the film to sink into the viewer and allowing for the filmmaking and acting to take center stage. Bob Hoskins, never better playing George, rightfully gained plaudits for his role, winning the best actor award at Canne and only narrowly missing the Oscar (it went, instead, to Paul Newman for “The Colour of Money”). This isn’t a one-man show though: Cathy Tyson as Simone, in one of her first roles, is the girl with the priceless heart; alluring, manipulative but at all costs secretive, concealing what is closest to her heart. The only relief from the grittiness is in the form of Robbie Coltrane’s Thomas, a delightful grumph and eccentric, which George visits when needing a good book to read.

As with all of Jordan’s, there’s a virtuoso craft in the filmmaking. Nearing the end, when Simone’s vicious pimp comes back for her, the camera moves from his point of view as if it were out to attack the viewer, that was not only inventive for its time but is filled with more energy than most thrillers today, a technique which has been cleverly incorporated into “Byzantium”, Jordan’s latest. It’s not faultless: the ending wraps up neatly and tidily, making one ponder whether studios were the ones who directed the closing few minutes, and simply some scenes are done in poor taste (the scene involving the midgets on the pier is a step too far). But then the film is based around flawed characters, all with trouble pasts and dark secrets, all trying to find away of connecting again with one another, even after all that has happened. It’s beautiful in its detail of a London that seems all to fictional but one we must remind our selves is real, and moving in its own peculiar way; a film, despite its subject matter, which we can all resonate with.