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Johnny Mad Dog (2008)
Furious, vital and breathtakingly intense
What a gift (though a painful one) to have caught Johnny Mad Dog at a Melbourne Film Festival screening yesterday. The audience was left breathless by this confronting and brutal film. From the first frame, director Jean-Stephane Sauvaire's adaptation of Emmanuel Dongala's novel held the audience captive with its visceral depiction of the lives of two children (though it's sometimes hard to remember that's what they really are) caught up in the careless tornado of civil war.
Reminiscent in style and tone of Fernando Meirelles' Cidade de Deus (City of God), the film follows Johnny Mad Dog, a 15-year-old soldier fighting raging hormones and the overpowering effects of systematic brainwashing, and Laokole, a 13-year-old girl fighting to save her crippled father and little brother.
The story is relatively simple, but the sense of danger and horror is always palpable, making it impossible to look away even when faced with scenes of depraved and unconscionable (though only occasionally graphic) violence. This violence feels justifiable, though, in the context of the closing montage, which shows graphically just how widespread and damaging the problem of child soldier recruitment really is. Sauvaire deliberately makes the geographical setting ambiguous, so it could be a story taking place in any number of countries, as it actually is.
It's obvious that Sauvaire and his cast of non-professional actors, many of whom brought to the film first-hand experience of the horrors of child soldier combat, have a driving urge to tell this story, to expose the truth about the consequences of involving children in violence, and the shocking hypocrisy when they are dumped, uncared for, at war's end.
There is nothing sanitised about Sauvaire's depiction of this hopeless situation; it is not for the faint-hearted. But it is a film for those who are willing to be challenged and provoked by an exceptional piece of cinema and human storytelling.
Playing for Charlie (2008)
Heartfelt but compromised.
I was fortunate to see this at a Melbourne Film Fest screening today and was glad to see that the audience enjoyed it. It's obvious that a lot of love has gone in to its production. Some comments I heard on the way out were 'beautiful', 'emotional' and 'poetic'. I was disappointed not to feel the same way because I really wanted to be able to recommend this film unreservedly, for a number of reasons: its setting, in Melbourne's western suburbs (in many locations I knew from my own adolescence), is so rarely seen on our screens, despite what director Pene Patrick pointed out as its obvious poetry; and the characters in the film tackle small-scale, everyday problems, and are flawed. These things made me want to like the film, but Patrick's script and direction are so lacklustre that the experience for me was one of frustration and, at times, boredom.
It was great to have cast and crew on hand for a Q&A after the film. It certainly helped to clarify for me some of the film's problems. When Patrick was asked how she got such beautiful performances out of her actors, she said that she just got "beautiful actors" and the rest worked itself out. She also said that she chose to include rugby union in the film (rather than AFL) because she knew it better than AFL. Both of these comments suggested to me an element of laziness on her part as director. I often felt, watching the film, that the actors were floundering, left with little to do but deal with the most surface elements of their characters (particularly Jodie Rimmer as Paula). It also seemed strange that the main character seemed to have no relationship whatsoever with the vastly more accessible (in Melbourne, anyway) AFL code.
She also mentioned that the film's visual style was influenced by the stories of the Brothers Grimm (an explanation for which I could find no basis), that she got Lisa Gerrard to do the music because she was listening to Gerrard's music when she was writing and that she included the line from the Thomas Gray poem because she read it around the time she was writing. It added up to make her seem like a spoiled child who got everything she wanted in her film simply because she was thinking of it when she was writing.
Which raises the issue of the elephant in the room: the film's finance. Producer Franziska Wagenfeld pointed out before the film started that she was extremely grateful to the film's executive producer for helping finance the movie, but in the Q&A afterwards refused to be drawn on the issue of who had privately financed the movie. When I noticed in the credits that the executive producer happens to share the same surname as the writer/director, I got thinking...
Now, I readily admit I have no hard evidence of any relationship (familial or otherwise) between the exec producer and the director, but it certainly seemed to make sense in the context of everything that was said before and after the screening. It would certainly help to explain why Pene Patrick may have gotten away with things other directors might be taken to task on...
All this said, I really hope people enjoy the film as much as many in the audience seemed to. There are some good performances, particularly by Jared Daperis in the demanding lead, and Shane Connor as his coach, and Lisa Gerrard's score is lovely (though not entirely well-suited). It seems, however, that the film's (carefully guarded) origins may have served up an artistically compromised end product.
Naui chingu, geuui anae (2006)
Rich and compelling melodrama with a strong social allegory
I haven't seen either of Shin Dong-il's other films but after seeing My Friend & His Wife I certainly want to. It takes a sobering look at loyalty, asking "How do we choose between our friends, our lovers and our selves?" The story is classic melodrama but the style is unobtrusive and naturalistic, until the tumultuous finale.
The three lead actors are all very good, with Park Hee-soon a standout as a struggling cook trying to juggle his commitment to his demanding wife and high-achieving longtime best friend. Jang Hyeong-seong plays the friend with fiery conviction, by turns loathsome and pathetic, and Hong So-hee brings a world of depth and feeling to her role as the wife. One scene, a single take of her sitting alone in front of a mirror, speaks volumes about her desperation and yearning for affection.
Aside from the human drama, however, the film serves as an angry allegory about South Korea's relationship with the West, in particular France and the US (a common thread in recent South Korean cinema). Many overt references to globalisation, the People's Revolution and the struggle between blue and white collar classes make clear the fact that Shin has a point to make. Jae-moon and Ye-joon represent polar opposites - Jae-moon is an earthy, family-oriented man, frequently shown cleaning up the mess caused by others (particularly Ye-joon), while Ye-joon is driven by money and prestige. In the middle, Ji-sook seems to represent the aspirational working class who longs to shake off the routine of a workaday existence and move on to better things. The allegory is a clever device that adds further relevance to an already potent story.
My Friend & His Wife only confirms the fact that Korean cinema is alive and well and has a bright future.
In memoria di me (2007)
A difficult journey
There's a moment in this film where the alienated Zanna suggests that, in the great church he shares with a collective of novitiate monks, the silence is empty. It was a clarifying moment for me because it pointed out one of the film's great flaws. Writer and director Costanzo relies heavily on meaningful silences, which in itself would not be a problem - if they were actually meaningful. Many great directors have managed to invest silence with a weight of meaning that makes for compelling viewing. For the majority of this film, though, the silence is unfortunately empty.
A large part of the problem lies in Costanzo's script and direction. He doesn't use the visuals to their full effect. While they convey the austerity and claustrophobia of the monastic setting, they don't help to illuminate the inner lives of the characters (despite the best efforts of the actors). There are a handful of moments when we can understand what Andrea is feeling - such as when his peers finally tell him what they think of him - but all too often, it's impossible to decipher what's going through his mind. This means we're able to grasp the overall arc of his spiritual journey, but it's difficult to get a handle on the nuances of it. The effect is alienating, and suggests that this is a story that may not be best suited to film.
I have little doubt that there will be some audiences who will connect with this movie on a deeply spiritual level. I really hope they do. There are some very valuable questions being asked here: Who are we? What is our purpose? How do we accept ourselves? I'm not sure if the film goes any way to answering these questions, and I don't think it needs to, but it asks them in a protracted and emotionally distant way that, for me, generated more boredom than spiritual examination.
Clubland (2007)
Uneven but rewarding
There is much to admire in Cherie Nowlan's film. Keith Thompson's script is generally well developed, exploring interesting ideas about mother-son relationships and unrealised dreams. The film ultimately ends up feeling more impressionistic than narrative-driven, building up to a cathartic, Secrets & Lies-esquire gathering of all the characters, where Nowlan deftly captures the exhausting qualities of a large-scale airing of dirty laundry. It's an outstanding sequence, but her direction throughout is similarly assured, lending believability to the offbeat world these characters inhabit.
Most of the actors milk their roles for all they're worth: Blethyn, at times evoking the miserable Cynthia from Secrets & Lies, is typically brilliant, as are Emma Booth as Jill, Richard Wilson as Mark and Frankie J. Holden as John.
But the movie is nearly sunk by the inadequate performance of Khan Chittenden, who offers a wooden and uncertain interpretation of his character. There are many instances where he's simply unsure of how to deliver his lines, and few instances where his face does any of the talking for him. I actually thought he may have been trying to suggest through his performance that Tim was afflicted (as his brother is) with some degree of mental retardation. When it's revealed, however, that Mark's retardation is not the result of a genetic defect, I spent the rest of the movie feeling simply embarrassed for the poor guy. He is clearly out of his depth among these other superlative actors.
I was also disappointed by Russell Dykstra's performance as Jeannie's camp manager. The role requires better comic timing than Dykstra is able to bring to it. I should say, though, that he isn't always aided by the sometimes stilted dialogue offered to him by Keith Thompson's script.
This is going to be a difficult movie for some viewers, especially if approached with any degree of cynicism. The resolution of Jeannie's misgivings about staying in Australia is a little too easy and the final musical number will be viewed as either grossly misjudged or hopeful and uplifting. Fortunately, I erred towards the latter.
It's a refreshing Australian film because, while it's not wrapped up in its Australian-ness, it's unafraid to show us as we really are. Despite the sometimes overwhelming influence of other cultures (especially British and American), and the apparent dreariness of the Australian suburbs, we still have much to celebrate.
En el hoyo (2006)
A wonderful rumination on man's relationship to work
I was fortunate enough to see En El Hoyo at a Melbourne International Film Festival screening and was delighted by this distinctive and artful piece of film-making.
Following the lives of a number of road-workers during the construction of a gargantuan bridge in Mexico City, the film follows a fairly loose narrative structure, but does what all good documentaries should do by helping us to understand why its subjects are the way they are. Rulfo offers us a mosaic of these people's lives, helping us to come to terms with the spiritual, political and psychological motivations behind their behaviour. While they remain in many ways enigmatic, particularly the wonderful Shorty, we are always connected to them because of Rulfo's skillful inclusion of humour and powerful visual sense.
And it never devolves into a simplistic political statement about their situation. They are there because they have a need to put food on the table, just like everyone else. Their job may be more physically demanding than most, but they never become martyrs or victims. Their strength is as palpable as their quiet desperation.
The final shot of the film, a sweeping five-minute (or more?) aerial shot traversing the full length of the bridge is quite overwhelming, highlighting the universality of the film's comments about work and the way we deal with it. I would certainly recommend seeing this film on the big screen to be able to absorb its full power.
Grbavica (2006)
An Oscar-worthy performance and a beautiful film
I was fortunate enough to see this wonderful film at the Melbourne International Film Festival where it seemed to receive a positive reaction from the large audience.
Jasmila Zbanic has written and directed a film that is powerful enough to speak to a global audience. Even as a twenty-something Australian male, I was able to relate to the struggle of a middle-aged Bosnian woman because of the strength of Zbanic's storytelling and the superb acting.
I was particularly astonished by Mirjana Karanovic's performance and would be thrilled to see her acknowledged at Oscar time next year. She captured Esma's internal conflicts perfectly and brought many audience members to tears. Luna Mijovic was also very good as Sara, shifting with ease between adolescent rage and childlike vulnerability.
Zbanic should be applauded for crafting a film that reminds us that the wounds of war leave deep scars. While Zbanic's script may not be "perfect", the humanity of her message is strong enough to leave us feeling grateful for the gift of love. At a time when the global political climate is in such tumult, films like this remind us to appreciate the loving relationships we have, despite the baggage they may come with.
Wah-Wah (2005)
What am I supposed to do with this film?
With a cast like this, I wondered how Richard E. Grant could possibly go wrong. But dare I say that in directing his own life story he has been unable to transform his reality into a story that has some appeal for anyone other than himself. This is self-aggrandising film-making at its worst. How are we supposed to care about a bunch of childish, adulterous, slave-driving colonials? I ended up feeling much more sympathy for Regina, the family's African maid, and she doesn't even have any lines!
It's hopelessly melodramatic. So much door-slamming and so many jarring outbursts. Whenever Grant seems to want to inject some high drama, he simply arranges for one of the key relationships in the film to dissolve - and it seems to happen every three or four minutes: break-up after break-up.
Nothing is understated at all. Yes, Richard, these things may have REALLY happened, but you haven't been able to make them convincing or meaningful on the big screen. You can't even make us care for the characters played by such wonderful actresses. How does a character played by the sublime Miranda Richardson manage to come off as completely one-dimensional and unsympathetic? Emily Watson is probably the best working actress in the world but she's so far above this material that her presence only serves to remind viewers that this could have been a good film. And were we supposed to care when Ralph's father dies? What did he ever do for anyone? To me he only seemed to be the bane of Ralph's existence.
I guess a large part of the problem lies in the fact that the characters seem not to have any psychology, other than the most surface motivations. Ralph, being the main character, is particularly empty, despite Nicholas Hoult's best efforts. Yes he has a facial tic when he's tense, but what's driving him? Is it that he wants to be a Droog? I don't think so.
The troubles that hampered the production of this film are written all over the screen. Patrick Doyle has written a beautiful score, but it doesn't seem to have been written for this movie. And far too often the editor relies on fades to black to generate emotional tension - and it doesn't work. The camera work is equally ambiguous. What does that last shot leave us with other than a sense of how pretty the countryside is?
What really brings the film down, however, is the fact that Richard E. Grant doesn't seem to know what he wants to say with this film. Why did he want to make the film, other than as a tribute to himself? Yes, it's a coming-of-age story. Yes, it's about the English in Swaziland. But what does it all ultimately mean? To me, I'm afraid, Ruby's description of English toff-talk as 'wah-wah' seems to be a fitting description of the film as a whole: appearing important on the surface, but ultimately meaningless.
The Wannabes (2003)
The worst film EVER made?
Ten minutes into this film, I realised that I was probably about to witness the worst Australian film ever made. By the time it was over, I was left with no doubt as to the fact that I had witnessed one of the worst films ever made, anywhere.
I was disturbed to find that there are people on IMDb defending it because of its humour and light touch. For a start, to find this filth even remotely amusing, you would need to have lived in a cave all your life, never communicating with anyone. Staring at a blank screen would have brought me closer to laughter than this dreck. And to suggest that the film has a light touch is utterly ludicrous. The amount of unnecessary swearing in the film leaves a deeply unpleasant residue, and drags the tone of the film down lower than it already would have been.
Nick Giannopoulos is easily the most repugnant screen presence I have ever come across. And he's meant to be the hero? A scene in which he dries himself after a shower brought me to the brink of vomiting. When later he was masturbated by a sperm-hungry Asian vixen, I wondered if I would ever be able to eat again. I find it difficult to believe that, after this absolute train wreck of a production, Nick Giannopoulos could ever work again. The sexist, ageist, racist, homophobic and UTTERLY NARCISSISTIC undertones in this film would make me question his values as a human being.
And Michael from Melbourne, you are absolutely right. The fact that government agencies put money towards this thing is an outrage. I know it helped that Nick had a couple million stashed away to put towards it, but to put tax-payers' money towards this sort of insidious, hate-filled slop is insulting and corrupt. The fact that this film was made raises questions about the dire state of the policies of Australia's film finance agencies.
The only consolation I can take is knowing that the film was a financial disaster. I can't help but think that everyone who put money towards it got exactly what was coming to them. If they couldn't see it from that script (which, at times, simply does not make sense) then they should think about changing careers.
Crash (2004)
Was I watching a different movie?
I get the impression that I was watching a different movie to the majority of other people I know who have seen this film. It's not really that I found the film offensive or anything - just that the script was unbelievably amateurish for a film that had obviously had a bit of money thrown at it. I really respected Paul Haggis' work on the Million Dollar Baby script and was bitterly disappointed to see how bad this script was. It was clear to me that it was desperate to be the 'racism' version of Traffic, but I don't think Traffic was really a film worth ripping off in the first place.
The worst feature of thisfilm is the way it shamelessly spoon-feeds its audience. Does Haggisreally think we are so dumb as to require a shot of the blanks? Do wereally need to see the phone book sitting on Farhad's dashboard, withthe address circled in black texta? Can we not be left to make someleaps in logic for ourselves?
I also had a major problem with the dialogue which was so 'on the nose'. I have heard one critic say that the quality of dialogue is deceptively high, because even though people may not speak this way, they certainly do think this way. That is irrelevant. It is the job of a script like this to utilise dialogue in a way that helps add to the characterisations and believability of the (in this case highly implausible) situations that are set up. These characters all speak using the same voice and all they ever talk about is racism.
Surely the purpose of a film like this should be to promote the fact that race should not really be an issue in these situations, but by making it the sole focus of every scene, doesn't it become innately racist itself? Characters walk around spouting their philosophies and conveniently memorised statistics on race relations as though they're regurgitating extracts from the research essay they've just written. It's utterly unconvincing and obvious.
A film should reveal its meaning gradually, not slap us in the face with it in the opening scenes and then never let up. I can see that Haggis' intentions with this film were honorable, but dare I suggest that by directing his own script he has not been able to identify and, therefore, overcome its flaws. I really hope that writer/directors will be really careful in future when approaching this 'mosaic' style of narrative. It has been done well a number of times, but getting the balance between the personal and the political right is very difficult. And Robert Altman will not be outdone in that department.