electric_sunrise Reviews

Papillon (1973)

"Hey you bastards, Papillon's still here!"

[9/10 · 29 January 2015]

This movie doesn't give you a moment to settle down. Drums beat. Prisoners are assembled under a blazing sun and informed that they are being packed and sent for the rest of their lives to the penal colony at Devil's Island, French Guinea. France has disowned them. Among the prisoners is the titular character Papillon (aced by Steve McQueen) charged with a crime he hasn't committed, and Luis Dega (Hoffman), a fraud banker convicted on counterfeit charges. Bound by mutual necessity, they soon become friends during their journey to Devil's Island. Then begins a ruthless documentation of inhuman prison conditions in that infamous penal colony that has shamed French history forever. The movie is based on a book by the same name authored by Henri Charriere, a former convict and fugitive from Devil's Island and though the work is fiction, the background is entirely based on real events.

As soon as Papillon declares his intention to flee this place to Dega, we are with him! And why not - the harrowing surrealism with which prison life at Devil's Island is depicted makes us grateful to afford our daily cup of coffee. Not surprising because the greatest prison movies have the power to nurture a sense of gratitude in us - that simply of being alive and free. Papillon is right up there with "The Shawshank Redemption" in that regard, and there are scenes toward the end of the movie where McQueen's character behaves as hysterical and looks almost identical to Tim Robbin's Andy Dufresne.

However, the movie is also different from "Shawshank" in that it transcends the prison genre, occasionally yielding to levels of adventures expected in Indiana Jones or Monte Cristo. But the tension running through the movie is palpable; we find ourselves repeatedly cheering the poetic heroism of Papillon and his "never-say-die" attitude through the film; yet a part of us knows and feels the attempt is futile; that iron bars and grim walls of hard stone can break down any man's will; and even if you get past those obstacles through luck or friends, there is only a vast, endless ocean to conquer. Repeatedly we fail to offer him our trust, repeatedly he defies us by the strength of his being, till it all ends as a matter of choice in the brink of incertitude. Papillon finally finishes on a high note, with McQueen screaming "Hey you bastards, I'm still here!"

This movie is also a great study of contrasting approaches to life. A life led by courage and a life led by cunning are not the same. Where Papillon always has his heart in the front, Dega the "friend" he earnestly trusts has his mind. There is a moment in the film where Papillon suffers much on account of a move by Dega, but he doesn't give his friend's name away to the officials. During such moments, we almost wish he were as practical as Dega, but we are reminded that a man of courage like Papillon can never be Dega. Nor can Dega ever be a Papillon. Yet, through the course of this movie, Dega transforms in his understanding of "the heroic man" and acknowledges that such men exist. In the breakdown of Dega's cynicism during the final hysterical scenes laced with black comedy and the gruff, raw editing that somehow suits and runs through the length of this movie; we know Papillon has triumphed and whether he live or die in the story, this movie will gloriously live on an island all its own!

And inspire.

(Hats off to Mr. Henri Charriere for living to tell us the tale!)

Whisper of the Heart (1995)

A beautiful vignette of teenage life in urban Japan

[9/10 · 17 July 2014]

In our rushed modern cinema where purportedly bigger themes such "saving the world", dominate the market, little intimate stories predominantly concerned with flawed, naïve characters and how they get around their little problems in the neighborhood invariably get dwarfed by the tumultuously crafted noise of these bigger "heroes". If marketed well enough, some do see the light of day, especially doing a round of festivals, before sinking into the horizon, till some rudderless castaway lost in the ocean of cinema bumps into these little known pearl-islands and finds some relevance in them years after their release. It is then we realize that true works of art are self-sustaining - they contain in their very essence, the power to draw attention to themselves through any generation or era and whenever the right time or person comes, interest in them gets revived. It is the enduring flavor of Billy Wilder's "The Apartment", that let a distant viewer like me enjoy it though I was born more than a decade after its release. Other little gems this understated manga masterpiece can be compared to would be "Garden State" and "The Station Agent"; movies predominantly about flawed people and communities. A wonder then when I came across this movie, I was delighted to find in its reels, everything that colorful, intimate movie poster promises. That and more.

So switch off the light, curl up with your loved one(s), or a warm mug of coffee if you are all by yourself; and prepare for a charming story and cultural expose of Japanese teenage life.

Shizuku finds that every book she's checked out in the library has been previously checked out by Shei, a boy from her school. When she bumps into him at recess, she finds him to be nothing like the book lover she'd imagined but finds instead an arrogant brat. However, when a strange little cat leads her through Tokyo's serene suburbia to a shop of antiquities, she soon finds Shei to be the grandson of the shopkeeper. Spun around this simple premise with less than five minutes of the "Miyazaki magic" we're so used to expect from Studio Ghibli; this realistic little tale of suburban love and teenage life in Japan keeps you captivated through it's running time of less than two hours. Here we see how the effervescence of infatuation between Shizuku and Shei rarifies into time-tested values of love and honor, both prerequisites in any lasting relationship. As they grow to like each other, we find denial in their love, and love in their denial; two souls wrapped in an uncertain seeking of a whisper of their heart.

What is one's calling in life? How does one even identify it? How does one learn to choose? There are no straightforward answers, only whispers we follow intuitively, but it's a joy to watch these characters in the film struggle through that angst of teenage life of coming to identify with who they are and what they want from their life and career. And all this while the cosmopolitan whirls around their little lives, not stopping for a moment to comprehend how "big" Shuzuku's small teenage problems actually are. So mean, no? So, Tokyo's local trains clank indifferently on the metro rails; people buzz in and out of crowded subways and supermarkets; Mom and Dad remain busy with their jobs (which means Shizuku has her share of errands); Big sister has her own life to deal with; and her best friend Yuko needs her support in her own crumbling love affair. Not to mention our little protagonist is failing her grades. This constant touch of outer elements intruding Shizuku's private life - cars on the thoroughfare regularly threaten to run over the lovers - creates such a holistic experience of the bustling Japanese urban culture that Studio Ghibli should separately take a bow for creating an animation film so vividly realistic. This is in fact manga like I've never seen, and an animation film itself achieving successfully what animation movies are usually not about - realism. So, I wouldn't suggest this movie if you just want to watch an animated film from Japan because there are bigger contenders for that privilege; but if you want the glimpse into Japanese urban life in general and Japanese teenage life in particular, this offbeat movie is the little vignette you're looking for. Beautiful.

The Golden Dream (2013)

Mind-blowing; heart-rending; yet life-affirming poetry in motion!

[9/10 · 25 October 2013]

At the recently concluded Mumbai Film Festival, I had the pleasure of watching this brilliant & moving homage to the treacherous journey thousands of Guatemalan immigrants undertake from their home country into "The Golden Cage", i.e. USA, in search of a better life.

Shot in a hand-held documentary-style, the movie gallops at a steady pace without staggering or slowing down too much. It finishes well below two hours, but the complications of the journey and the character experiences make it feel a lot longer than its running time. Maybe its because it is a brilliant road movie with so much happening. Watching these kids whose journey and eventual struggles I soon became an intimate part of, made me feel as though I was living this adventure as it unfolds, traveling beside these children on a train, with the afternoon sun mercilessly blazing into my eyes, my face dried up by the dust in the wind, hair-blowing wildly, as I peer at the ever-changing countryside, with fellow-wayfarers. I felt that way because of how intimately the camera lets us into their lives.

Juan, Samuel, Sara (a girl pretending to be a boy for the journey) and I, the viewer (as the intimate witness behind the camera), begin a journey at Guatemala which we will end in the US. Getting to the US is the only consistent plan, the aim that binds us together; for the rest of the story is like an account of a leaf on a stream; randomly tossed and turned about by the currents of life. We know we'll get there; but we don't know in what condition: Here I lose a friend, there I make a friend; here I dance in a loving crowd, there I am alone in my misery; here I hunt for food, there I'm the object of someone's hunt; here I hitch a train ride, there I run on golden fields. In this uncertain wilderness, yesterday's rival can be today's friend, and characters who disappear from our lives create a haunting presence. In the end, the long journey takes its toll. This is a road movie – yet it is more. It is poetry.

There are great cerebral filmmakers who make you ponder about the nature of Existence (Bergman, Tarkovsky etc); then there are those who draw you into their story in a way that you intimately experience the character's existence and share his world-view. With this impressive debut, Diego Quemada-Diez shows streaks in that second, rare breed; of being not necessarily a cerebral filmmaker, but more of a poet or artist and filling the canvas with strokes of 'feel', and not 'reason'. Diego spends much of the reel time cataloging what these little insignificant lives do – these little dots on the map that flitter about the earth from here to there going seemingly nowhere, affected by the random turns of life; but through the length of the film, he lets us know them personally, and that gives these unknown lives and their unsung stories a soul. On knowing them, we discover they have values of friendship, loyalty, love, honor, sacrifice, without the knowledge or pride of knowing these are noble values. By the end of the film, I recognize what happens to these children might happen to anyone were we not protected by the proud shackles of civilization and education. Theirs, on the other hand, is the raw, wild spirit, proud and dreamy, full of self-belief; yet suffering from their oversimplified, innocent view of the world.

Poetry in film is a tribute I once paid to Joon-ho Bong, after watching his beautifully haunting "Memories of Murder", where the 'feelings' the movie impressed on me stayed well after watching it. In "Memories of Murder", I could 'smell the rain' till few days after watching the movie. After finishing this cross-continental travelogue of "La Jaula de Oro" few days back, I still feel dry in my throat and dry on my face: it is a thirst unquenched. It is a promise unfulfilled. A dream betrayed and denied, as a direct consequence of my ignorance of the world I live in. I feel I have paid for my foolishness; for the reckless pursuit of my desire for a better life, for my over simplified view of the world. Now, I'm more than thousand miles away from home. My skin is full of scabs, my eyes still dirty from the travel, my hands stained with grease from my new job in the promised land, but my head is turned upward, and when in the night, snowflakes fall over my eyes like infinite stars from the sky, I'm cleansed. Like Juan, I know my heart is always ablaze with an infinite Hope for wonder, and that can never die.