Reviews

...or is it?

The story line is very simple: a 1970s Czech city family goes to the countryside for a short holiday... Adventures ensue. But this brilliant comedy definitely is one of those films that rely heavily on the viewer's understanding of the wider cultural context - and, of course, on magnificently humorous dialogues and interaction. (If a comparison must be found, I'd say it is much more reminiscent of Tati than of "National Lampoon", for example.)

It is an unforgettably hilarious yet gentle film. But without the help of a very good translator - and preferably at least a basic understanding of the time and space where the action takes place - I fear that much (not all, but much) of its intelligent humour will be lost.

For some strange reason, TV movies seem to be perceived as somehow "inferior" to the big-screen & big-bucks productions. Is it because of their comparatively limited budget and the resulting lack of "special effects"? Or is it simply a marketing issue? Be it as it may, many true lovers of film as an art do not care much about special effects, much less about the marketing involved. Those should absolutely see this delightful movie.

In a nutshell, it's a film about "senior dating", if you will, featuring two Americans in England. But their nationality is about the only thing they have in common..:) There is also a parallel love story, between a beautiful English stage and TV star and an American who is about 10-15 years her junior.

There are surprisingly few clichés, and even those are treated with intelligence. Instead, there is plenty of "class", intelligence, warm humour, wonderfully sensitive acting - not to mention the beautiful surroundings of the English countryside and the very good, unobtrusive musical score.

It's a sensitive, humorous, and ultimately poignant, film that will leave you with a warm feeling inside. "Foreign affairs" is one of those films that, for some reason, stay with you forever.

... and I've seen TONS of them. I love the genre. It's been more than ten years since I last saw this one, but it remains unforgettable.

I had to browse the web to find the title of the documentary; and one of the pages (at least one) called it "hilarious".

??!

Either I don't know what "hilarious" means, or the writer of that review doesn't know what it means - or we just have a very different sense of humour.

There are many many epithets that come to mind remembering that documentary, but "hilarious" is not one of them. I would call it a frank, poignant display of an (unwittingly) cynical world.

Dimitri, the writer's great-grandson, is a (or was) a tram (streetcar) driver; a typical, rather sad "ordinary" man, caught in the rut of a seemingly perspectiveless life in post-USSR Russia.

And then, somebody conceived the idea of making him tour some of the capitals of Western Europe, his only "ticket" being his surname. (He did try to sell - on a stand in a theatre lobby - some of his own work, drawing of scenes from his ancestor's books, but with little luck.)

Of course people were only interested in him because of his surname. Fair enough. Though I imagine he could have something to say about life - life in Russia in 1991/92, not 150 years ago - had anyone asked him. But nobody asked him. In fact, he found it difficult to even find a place where to rest his head when night fell. After the initial interest in him wore off, he was dropped like a hot potato.

And the one palpable benefit he did manage to get out of this particular journey turned sour - it almost cost him his life.

By all means, see this documentary. But if you are looking for comic relief, look elsewhere.

I like "excess" love stories, provided they are sincere and that they avoid platitudes.

Alas, platitudes and stereotypes abound in this film; indeed, they are the very backbone of this film. It contains a few scenes of GREAT beauty, but, all in all, it is laden with almost incredibly old-fashioned pathos, based on equally old-fashioned premises and stereotypes. You can almost see and hear Polanski giggling behind the scenes, like a school boy prone to bouts of hysteria, picturing the "shock" of the audience (represented by Hugh Grant's cartoonishly prude - and by implication, "hypocritical" - character).

Wake up, Mr. Polanski, and grow up. Reality quite often exceeds the most incredible of film plots. (And it would be no great feat to exceed this particular fantasy of yours.)

My advice to a potential viewer: if you like radical love stories, go and see "Breaking the waves".

As most of its (all too few) viewers know, »Volga Volga« was supposed to be the Soviet counterpart to Hollywood musical comedies of the time. It is also well-known it was Stalin's favourite movie... So what? Wagner was Hitler's favourite composer – does that make him a bad composer? Hitler also loved Greta Garbo, Charlie Chaplin, Marlene Dietrich... does that make them trash?

However, I *do* find it fascinating that Stalin loved this film. I find it even more fascinating that the film was released for the general public to see, and that its director wasn't sent to Siberia.

Yes, it has propaganda written all over it – in the same fashion as the contemporary »Yankee Doodle Dandy« has, to mention just one famous non-Soviet example. But what makes this film such a wonderful comedy is the intelligent – at times spine-chilling – humour of the dialogues. However, only viewers who are familiar with the Soviet political (and general) culture of the time will appreciate them – or even notice them. If one doesn't know that the young man is reciting a very famous poem by Lermontov when trying to impress the semi-illiterate political chieftain, it will be very difficult to appreciate the latter's bewildered expression and his reply: »Oh, begone with your self-critique, save it for the next political meeting« (I am quoting from memory, based on the original, not on the English translation, which I am not familiar with). Indeed, one has to know what »self-critique« meant... If you do, you'll find it a cracking-funny dialogue. The same goes for many, many other scenes – like the one when the ship's cook introduces (and re-introduces) himself to the ignorant political chief, starting merrily as a »chef« and ending up as a »food-processing worker«. And then some scenes are sheer poetry: like the one when the entire village is chanting the contents of a telegram from the river bank, so that the eager recipient of the telegram – already embarked on a ship - will hear it..:)

The ideology behind it is clear: only the peasants – sorry, »land workers« - are healthy and wise. The only jerk in the film is the hilariously ignorant and self-important representative of the political »authorities«. This, I suppose (besides the wonderful humour and the cheerful music), is what made this film so popular with the »masses«. And this must be also the reason why the film was released. (In 1938, no less – when political »purging« was at its worst.)

There are however, certain scenes in the film that make me wonder how on earth it made it past the censors. (Due to Stalin's personal intervention, no doubt?) The oddest example comes towards the end of the film, when the political chieftain is asked by the port authorities whether he is the author of the (title) song »Volga Volga«. Panicking, he not only blames someone else (»Shulbert«, Franz Schubert to you and me) – regardless of the fact that »Shulbert« most definitely did NOT »do« it - but he starts screaming: »I confess nothing, I confess nothing!«, even though nobody had asked him to confess anything... Only those who know what »confession« implied can find his mindless reaction hilarious – and spine-chilling.

It is said that Stalin had a copy of this film delivered to the USA authorities. They were so baffled by it that they searched it for hidden messages. If this is true, it just goes to show how little they understood and knew about each other.

Or is there a hidden message...? :)

I saw this film several years ago. And yet it remains with me. I am not sure that it is "great film-making"; I do know, however, that it conveyed the story so effectively that even after 5 or 6 years (if not longer) I often remember it and draw inspiration from its story.

Susan Sarandon was superb. (But then, she usually is.) Nick Nolte's "Italian" accent was nothing short of horrendous. (It probably cost him a nomination.) But he managed to convey the incredible passion of a father - and THAT is what's important. That is what stays with me and inspires me.

Not sure how to rate it in terms of cinematographic art - but it gets a 10 as a source of inspiration.

An unpretentious, heartwarming B&W movie about a brave little boy nicknamed "Kekec", filmed in the idyllic setting of the Julian Alps, in Slovenia (which is really the only reason why anyone could wish it had been filmed in colour).

The plot is not terribly realistic, but the boy's character works well as a semi-archetype of the down-to-earth "nature's child" which overcomes obstacles by the sheer force of will and a pure heart.

Personally, I feel that Barl's interpretation of the boy is somewhat strained. But the rest of the cast - including the dog - are very good. And the music is almost perfect. All in all, the movie conveys a touching - if perhaps imaginary - image of a pristine rural community, many many decades ago.

... I don't really know what the other ingredient of the mixture is, but it is annoying.

I must say, "Amelie" was one of the most unexpected disappointments in my life as a cinemaphile.

I love French cinema in general (as opposed to Hollywood films - even the most acclaimed ones have at least one corny moment that makes me cringe). And the basic premise of this film was so much to my taste that I couldn't wait to see it.

And sure enough: the photography and the overall cinematic "style" are gorgeous; so is the sense of humour of the first 30 minutes or so.

But then, halfway through the film, "Amelie" simply lost me. I am not sure why. Maybe it was the overexerted "fairy tale" style which put me off it. (And that could be because the implicit message of "fairy tales" is that they are just that: fairy tales.)

Perhaps the people who rave about it are starved for fairy tales in their lives. (No offence intended - please!) If this film made someone look at their life in a different light - good for them! I am glad.

To me, it looked too far removed from the magic of true life to really make an impact - or even keep me in front of the screen.

I feel "Amelie" is a missed opportunity for something that could have been truly, amazingly great.

Painful is the word that comes to my mind when I think of Cameron's "Titanic". Why? Because such a budget, such magnificent special effects - so much of everything! - was shamelessly wasted on a fifth-rate plot that mocks the magnificent true stories of the "Titanic". It could have been THE film of the century; instead, it's a colossal monument to Hollywood's dementia.

Someone on this forum asked how could anyone hate this film. All those who have read the true accounts of what happened on the "Titanic" cannot BUT hate it. The sinking "Titanic" provided a stage for acts of incredible heroism (and cowardice); it became the catalyst and a showcase for all the highs and lows of human nature.

An example for those who absolutely need a love story: there were 9 newly wed couples aboard the ship; only four or five of the new husbands survived. Why not base the main story line on one or two of those true tragedies? Would they be perhaps too boring for Hollywood's target audience (whatever and wherever it is)...? I think not.

But even as a work of fiction (which it is), this film leaves a lot to be desired. In real life - even in 1912 - not all the "poor" are a priori merry and good-natured; and not all the "rich" are narrow-minded and snobby, as they are portrayed in this film. As far as the characters are concerned, this is very much a black & white movie. And the dead - the REAL dead - of the "Titanic" are merely a backdrop for the director's see-through shallow, unimaginative ego.

Shame on you, Cameron.

I saw this film three times (but then, I see many films more than once), and if I were to rate it, I'd give it 7-8 (out of 10), for its artistic merits. I knew nothing about Ayn Rand before seeing this film, and it piqued my curiosity. (I then discovered that "The Fountainhead", a very good piece of cinematic work, was based on her book.) But I am basically writing this only to correct what a reviewer said (back in September 2001), quite emphatically and with considerable reasoning behind the statement: that Ayn Rand shouldn't have been portrayed by an "American actress". She wasn't. The role of Ayn Rand was played by Helen Mirren, a truly great British actress. Moreover, Ms. Mirren herself is of Russian extraction, just as Ayn Rand was.

A bittersweet, poetic story on the ephemeral nature of life, with all its loves and losses.

Those who have read Liv's memoirs (highly recommended!) will recognise some of the unforgettable sentences that convey her bewilderment at the swiftness of man's passage through this life.

As another reviewer said, Bergman would be - and possibly was - very proud of this film. It has all of his strengths, but none of his conceits, which makes it more accessible without diluting its depth. I do feel, however, that it would be unfair and inaccurate to place too much emphasis on Bergman's influence. The insights that constitute the "heart" and mind of this narrative are Liv's and Liv's alone. (Again, read her memoirs, written many years before this film, to see what I mean.)

A wonderful - and, I feel, grossly underrated - film.

... and that's about all I can SAY about it. I saw this film four, maybe five years ago. And to this day, I feel a blow to my gut whenever I remember it. To this day, it haunts me - especially (and not surprisingly) the figure of the little boy.

This is a raw, uncompromising, unbiased parable on love and revenge; on humanity. It is set in 14th century Sweden - but its "message" is timeless: as timeless as love and vengefulness themselves. As timeless as humanity itself. Because the mores may change, but today, as 800 years ago, people are still helpless in their (perhaps inevitable) core existential ignorance, still subject to the immense pain of losing a loved one, of the inexplicable torments that often befall just and righteous, "good" people.

And that is what makes this a brutal, heartrending, unforgettable film.

A wonderful, poignant masterpiece by the great Visconti and Anna-the-Great-Magnani. On the surface, it is a simple story about a mother's obsession to use her little daughter's appearance to escape the poverty of post-war Italy. What transpires is the cruel truth about the beauty- and illusion-making industry (cinema), with all its inherent cynicism, at a time when hunger for the daily bread was equaled by hunger for fantasy and beauty.

I've seen this movie only once, ages ago, and it still remains with me as one of the most unforgettable films I have ever seen. In a world that has seen hundreds of thousands of films that is no small feat.