Reviews

I've seen a lot of films in recent years that seem to come from the Michael Haneke School of detached, forensic, precise observation of the lives of the characters. In a few cases, this style is married with an off-beat, slightly surreal comedy, something I associate with Haneke's fellow Austrian, Peter Handke. I'm thinking of this film, and of DOGTOOTH, by Lanthimos. Both DOGTOOTH and the EXCHANGE have a wry, ironic but very original way of looking at the world. In the EXCHANGE, the lead character undergoes some kind of breakdown that is also a transformation; he can no longer look at life in a "normal" way, he begins to see unusual patterns in things, he begins to observe things differently, and to be aware of himself observing things, observing the observer; something that surely echoes with his work as a physicist, where it is now clear that the fact of observing phenomena actually changes their state. Although Kolirin doesn't seem to know where to go with this idea (the ending is good, but not exciting) this provides a fascinating, funny and weird cinema experience... thought-provoking and odd.

For most of the film's length we watch a father and daughter's sparse and bleak existence in a remote farmhouse, blasted by an eternal wind. Only a couple of visitors come to break the near-silent existence of this couple and their ageing horse. Out of this silence and the wind and the darkness, an apocalyptic vision of a fallen, corrupt world emerges.

It's a unique and haunting film, like a filming of a near-wordless play of Beckett, stained with an indelible sadness and regret that our world cannot be saved from darkness. Along with SATANTANGO and WERCKMEISTER HARMONIES, this is another masterpiece from Bela Tarr and his regular band of collaborators.

Despite apparent substantial expense (60s period trappings et. al.) and impressively glossy cinematography, this is a drab, incompetent and unconvincing film. I'm no huge fan of the Boulting movie, but this remake/ new version suffers poorly in comparison. Joffe seems to have little clue in directing actors(there are some great actors here giving cringe-inducing performances), and the plot mechanics are amateurishly worked out (a car stalls conveniently allowing time for a character to get inside it, whereupon it starts working again... there are several such moments in which credibility is sacrificed for the sake of convenience). Mostly, however, it's an embarrassing experience. Lots of histrionics and glossy lighting, but no-one seems to know what they're doing in this directionless mess.

Certainly one of the best films of the year, MY JOY depicts the journey of a truck driver through contemporary Russia. The journey is full of detours, some of which take in scenes from the past, from 60 years or so ago, in the time of World War Two. In beautiful, lyrical mise-en-scene, the director shows scenes of brutality, rudeness, corruption and violence; this is a poetical portrayal of ugliness... Whether it is intended as a depiction of the brutality of conditions in contemporary Russia, or whether it is intended more as a general portrait of the human condition is not entirely clear to me, but, whatever it is, this is strong, haunting film-making, skillfully depicting a disjointed world of violence and degradation.

A film that follows the travails of a middle management guy through a black-and-white Estonia, leading from funerals to swamps to theatres, from dinner parties to ruined churches and a cannibal cabaret nightclub.

This is an unusual and original film... whilst it has echoes of film-makers such as Roy Andersson or Bela Tarr, it is also clear that Ounpuu has his own original voice to develop. In a few places the surrealism or absurdism seemed, to me, a bit forced or self-conscious,but in many places the film is truly unique, funny, disturbing, odd, dreamlike and poignant. An unhoned, rough talent maybe, but a big one.. I'll look forward to his next film...

Petzold is a very controlled and composed film-maker. In this film, as in GESPENSTER, he uses this almost forensic calm and diurnal realism to explore metaphysical issues. So this film, which ostensibly takes place in the aggressive financial world of mergers and acquisitions, is also a film about death, the soul, and guilt. It is a great challenge to look at these intangible themes through the prism of a very tangible, concrete world - but this Petzold does achieve, with beautifully composed and controlled imagery, and even a nice line in wry, ironic humour. There are some great performances in the film - they draw you part of the way in, but nevertheless there is still some distance between viewer and film. This maybe results in a slightly cold viewing experience, but the film has stayed with me long after its end - it is a complex and highly rewarding work, if mainly in retrospect.

Guiraudie seems to be carving out a very individual niche in French cinema, and this seems to me to be his most consistent film to date, though the others are certainly worth looking at. Here he creates a small, discreet universe with its own rules, currency, economy, political struggles and caste system. To an extent this alternative world reflects our own, but, thankfully, this is not some "clever" allegory about contemporary life, but rather a hermetically sealed dream world. But whereas most cinematic dream worlds concentrate on the bizarre or the nightmarish or the flamboyant, Guiraudie's oneiric space more closely resembles the real world of dreams - at least of those rambling but strangely coherent dreams that leave you tired the next morning (at least I know what I'm talking about... maybe not everyone has this kind of dream, but I do). It is a world that verges on the banale at times, but which also verges on the poetic at others. It's a perplexing but highly stimulating (and often funny) film to watch, and personally I am grateful for any 90 minutes in the cinema which feels completely fresh, original and quite unlike anything else I have seen. There may be "better" films this year, but I treasure this one for being unique: there is complete originality of voice here, and a great ambition to try and achieve something banale but at the same time ineffable - an ambition in which, amazingly, Guiraudie very nearly succeeds.

Shepitko's THE ASCENT is one of my favourite films, so I was really looking forward to this. It didn't surprise me that it's not as good as the ASCENT (few films are!), but it was only really towards the end that I can say that I really appreciated the film. There is a fractured narrative that at times in intriguing, and, at others, merely feels obscurantist and prone to rather uninteresting diversions. However, there are some excellent scenes throughout the film and overall the film has an attractive character to it, so it's no chore to stay with its ramblings, and, in the end the story comes together in an atmospheric and morally forceful conclusion. Like THE ASCENT, YOU AND ME is blessed by a wonderful score by Schnittke.

This is a very energetic, very strange, very shrill film about death in a surreal Slovakia. Three episodes cover three different historical periods, two in the past, one in a post-nuclear-apocalypse future. If you take the most strident bits of middle- or late-period Fellini, cross-pollenate that with the obscure, balletic late films of Jancso, add the geese- and gypsy-milieu of Kusturica, and you might have an idea of what this is like to watch; there's a lot of invention and colour, but it's so highly strung and shrilly pitched that the film swiftly becomes a bit grating, and frequently dull. However, a curio, and probably worth seeing once.

Lovers of Ray's film should avoid this film if at all possible. It was maybe a good idea to get the surviving cast of DAYS AND NIGHT IN THE FOREST back together again and invent a story for them. But this is very poor: it is full of inconsequential moments, pointless dialogue, seemingly-randomly-chosen songs, awkward melodrama, clumsy political interjections and nonsensical plot-developments. It is rambling, unfocused and overlong and really quite boring. The only good thing is that the film magnifies and amplifies what made Ray so great; his subtlety, deftness and grace are completely lacking here, and so we look back with longing; if only Ray were still making films...

For a first film, this shows a great deal of visual confidence. The subject matter, about the treatment of women in Taliban-era Afghanistan is, of necessity, depressing. This is a bleak, despairing film about unrelenting oppression, told with a chilling beauty, and blessed with an even, steady gaze at one of the most brutal regimes of recent times.

This is a beautiful piece of work by a highly-talented film-maker. It is absorbing, entertaining, and, eventually, emotive and thought-provoking. I have to react against some of the other user comments here, which seem to have reacted negatively to the film's unaccentuated approach to character and narrative. This is not a film which deals in mainstream, realist modes of story-telling; it eschews the straightforward process of "here is our hero, this is where s/he lives, here are some scenes which establish his/her character, here is the sub-plot, here is a supporting character, look how funny he is" etc. This is a film that SUGGESTS and ALLUDES, that seduces the (open-minded) viewer into a sensual and elusive, shifting portrait of a real place (Lampedusa) and some semi-mythical and maybe unreal events. In short, the emphasis is poetic and suggestive, rather than narrative and concrete.. in contrast to many user comments, I found the characters to be beautifully delineated and the storyline to be clear and fascinating. Obviously it would appear that this approach doesn't work for everyone, but I found this film to be that rare thing: Real Cinema.

Most films about the Holocaust concentrate on its horrors, or the tenacity of those who survived it. VOYAGES is a film about the fragementation of the lives of those who survived, about the smaller (i.e. less dramatic), but maybe more trenchant pain of dislocation, loss and deracination. As a film about the painful inheritance of war and genocide, it is unmatched in my viewing experience; this is a very powerful and affecting piece of work, made even more devastating by the subtle quietude of its voice.

I was surprised at how awkward, amateurish and even inept this early Renoir film was. Admittedly, there are moments of greatness where one sees the later master, particularly in some closer shots, where one can see fine, detailed, subtle acting. But for the most part of the film, this is a clumsily executed work of poor technical quality, and shaky narrative control. A sequence such as the night-time car chase is technically very brave for this period, but this doesn't excuse it for its poor realisation; one can be sure that Murnau would never have accepted such shoddy work. If one compares LA NUIT DU CARREFOUR with other films made in 1932, such as QUEEN CHRISTINA or GRAND HOTEL, one can see how inelegant and primitive this film's mise-en-scene is. I write this negative review merely to share with other people my disappointment; I travelled to see this film in a rare screening at London's NFT, but felt that I shouldn't have bothered.

If you don't know Jancso's work, I'd recommend starting with either this film, or with the masterpiece THE ROUND UP. Whereas THE ROUND UP combines Jancso's unique and impressive shooting style with a compelling narrative, ELEKTRA is more impressionistic... like a strange, continuously flowing film-ballet, it comes across like a sombre musical, an ancient Greek play transformed into an unusual ritual on the Hungarian plain. At 75 minutes, it is a distillation of Jansco's style, a brief, inspiring introduction to this unique artist.

It's one of these films that talk down at you; the cinematic equivalent of reading a novel in capital letters: it's all SPELT OUT FOR YOU AS IF YOU ARE AN IDIOT. Nothing is left to the imagination, let alone the intelligence of the viewer as the film moves boringly forward from one tiresome expository scene to the next. Even the "emotions" of the characters are underlined continuously by leaden dialogue or lingering close-ups. Cate Blanchett, a fine actress, is wasted in a lifeless role that simplistically smoothes over all the moral and emotional complexities that I assume existed in the original novel (I haven't read it)... At one point she asks "what am I doing here?" - the viewer in the cinema feels like asking the same question.

Here they go once more, the Weinstein brothers, packaging their insubstantial chocolate in sumptuous packaging: Hershey bars in Belgian boxes. It looks like an advert, and is equally shallow; idiotically predictable, a sleepwalk through cliche towards the chocolatisation of cinema: here we all sit, eat and become fat with the MSG creme fondants sold us as Art. A sickening confection. All that glisters is not gold.

Those involved in this film will suffer great tortures, for they have commited great sins against the Holy God of Cinema. They shall be placed in chambers beneath the earth, where they shall watch Truly Madly Deeply in slow motion for eternity, and that shall be their suffering. Thusly will they languish, and their pain is merited. Greatest of all shall be the suffering of those who, having seen the film, decided to inflict it upon a public, instead of burying it in the deepest vault imaginable - yea, deeper still than the stainless steel vaults that contain the writings of the great L.Ron Hubbard, author of the masterful Battlefield Earth. Anathema! Yea, they shall be undone.

Having just seen this, I find it hard to believe that it is not better known. This and the slightly-better-known, but almost-as-shamefully-neglected COME AND SEE (Klimov, 1986) must be two of the greatest war films. They are meaningful, powerful, incisive. THE ASCENT is also gifted with a sparingly-used, but brilliantly trenchant score by Schnittke.

French Realism is like any other Realism, but longer. The Realist film-maker shoots "real people" in "real life". Here, in this film, there are some guys and girls, and they meet, talk, drink, eat, sleep, make love, wake up, walk, stop walking, look at something, walk past a traffic sign, light a cigarette next to a car, etc., etc. Maybe if you were a native of an entirely different culture you might find all this interesting, but my recommendation is to avoid the film and go out with your friends instead. Maybe film your evening on video and send it to Despleschin so he can re-edit it as "Ma Vie Sexuelle 2." The film is well made and well acted, but my 93-year-old grandmother is slightly more interesting and a bit less predictable. Sad to say, but this kind of film seems to be increasingly what is imported from France; films by youngish film-makers who suffer from that terrible narcissism: that people like them are endlessly fascinating and worth 3 hours of a stranger's time. In most cases this is sadly not so: my friends are much more interesting, my life is more real, and my thoughts are more profound. Not intrinsically, but just because I live them, I don't read them off a screen.

This is truly terrible: painfully irritating stylised performers screech and mug gratingly incoherent dialogues which take place in scenes which seem to have no purpose, no beginning, middle or end, cut together without any apparent narrative or even cognitive intention, all in the service of some entirely uninteresting and almost undetectable "story". What makes it worse is the film's pretentions to "style": suddenly a remote-head crane shot spirals downwards, and, without any apparent reason there are sudden whip-pans or wobblyhand-held sections: all this "style" merely serves to magnify the almost unbelievably huge misconception of the project and the almost offensive vacuity of the material. Definitely a candidate for the worst film ever made.

Am I alone in hating this movie? Or is it because I come from the same part of London as these characters? If someone asked me to hop and tell them my life story in 30 seconds, I know what two word answer I'd give them.