Month: September 2011

The Art of Stage Fighting: LFM Reviews My Kingdom

By Joe Bendel. Early Twentieth Century China was a rough and tumble place. If the Shaolin monks could mix it up with warlords and imperialists, why shouldn’t the actors get in on the act? Two adopted brothers will play parts in a high tragedy of almost Biblical dimensions in Gao Xiasong period action revenge drama, My Kingdom (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Young Er Kui’s singing voice saved his life. Unfortunately, the rest of the Meng clan, including his little sister, were beheaded by the cruel Prince Regent. Er Kui is raised – with the slightly older Guan Yi Long – to be an apprentice to revered opera performer Master Yu. Opera is serious business in 1920’s China, especially when Master Yu is awarded a golden plaque designating him “The Mightiest Warrior.” Drawing a full contact challenge from the resentful Master Yue (with an “e”), Yu must “break his spear,” and retire from the stage after losing the duel under somewhat questionable circumstances.

Both brothers, however, yearn for vengeance. Yi Long is determined to regain their master’s golden plaque from Yue, while Er Kui is determined to bring down his wrath upon the Prince who bestowed it. The first proves relatively easy, but enormously cinematic. The latter will be more difficult, considering the offending Prince is dead. He had seven sons, though (but maybe not for much longer). Further complicating matters is Xi Mulan, Yue’s lead actress and former lover. She now shares the stage with the brothers who have taken over Yue’s Beijing Opera troupe, which is more than a little awkward.

Kingdom is somewhat akin to Japanese filmmaker Kon Ichikawa’s truly classic Revenge of a Kubuki Actor, combining a behind-the-scenes view of traditional theater with a good old-fashioned payback story. However, Kingdom has far less angst and much more melee, with Master Sammo Hung serving as action director (as he did for Detective Dee and the Ip Man franchise). He puts quite a stamp on the film, choreographing the fight scenes with appropriately theatrical flair. Continue reading The Art of Stage Fighting: LFM Reviews My Kingdom

The Return of John Landis: LFM Reviews Burke & Hare

Isla Fisher in "Burke & Hare."

By Joe Bendel. William Burke and William Hare would definitely be considered working class, but they probably never put in an honest day’s labor in their lives. They do grasp some basic economics, though. Edinburgh’s celebrated anatomy colleges have a large unmet demand for fresh cadavers. Even these two idiots understand how to increase the supply in John Landis’ Burke & Hare (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

For those who have been wondering where Landis (the director of such iconic comedies as Animal House, The Blues Brothers, and An American Werewolf in London) has been for the last decade or so, he was back in the UK (amongst other places, presumably), where B&H was shot on location in Edinburgh and at the storied Ealing Studios. Indeed, B&H has a charming period look, evoking the spirit of early Hammer horror films and Roger Corman Poe adaptations (which Landis can probably quote chapter-and-verse).

The two Williams are not evil per se, but they are definitely low lives. Largely they sponge off Hare’s wife Lucky, who rents rooms to elderly pensioners. When one tenant passes away before settling for the month, she makes the lads dispose of the body. However, when they discover the ambitious Dr. Robert Knox will give five pounds a pop for fresh bodies, it opens up a whole new business venture for them. Of course, it also attracts some unwelcome attention.

Though there is plenty of gross-out humor and a not inconsiderable body count, B&H might be too gentle for many midnight screening patrons. Rather, the film has a nostalgic feel, nicely established with Angus the Hangman’s introductory tour of the city. The Hammer vibe is further reinforced by an appearance from the great Sir Christopher Lee as Old Joseph, one of the gruesome twosome’s early victims.

Andy Serkis obviously gets it, reveling in Hare’s roguish degeneracy. However, Simon Pegg’s put-upon shtick as Burke gets a little tiresome, particularly with the subplot involving the manipulations of a gold-digging actress he is smitten with. After all, according to the old nursery rhyme: “Burke’s the butcher, Hare’s the thief,” not the knebbish soft touch.

However, as Knox, “the boy who buys the beef,” Tom Wilkinson chews the scenery with relish, channeling Peter Cushing and Vincent Price as a sophisticated man of science led astray by his enthusiasm and arrogance. He even gets off a mother joke at his rival’s expense worthy of Tracy Morgan. Indeed, B&H has a great supporting cast, including Tim Curry as the clammy Dr. Alexander Monro and Downton Abbey’s Hugh Bonneville as Lord Harrington, the Solicitor General.

With an epilogue that could almost, but not quite, be considered educational, B&H is strangely endearing for a film about grave-robbing cutthroats. Yet Landis manages to keep the tone light and breezy, while paying homage to the more innocent costumed horror films of old. It is entertaining enough to lead movie lovers to hope it is the beginning of a full-fledged return to narrative features for Landis (who has been a talking head in scores of recent documentaries, including American Grindhouse and Machete Maidens Unleashed). Amusing and atmospheric, B&H is definitely recommended for genre fans when it opens this Friday (9/9) at the IFC Center in New York.

Posted on September 8th, 2011 at 3:33pm.

An Apocalyptic Vision: LFM Reviews The Lost Town of Switez

By Joe Bendel. So deeply ingrained are the images of a devastated Poland during WWII and the Soviet era, many Americans forget the millennia-old country was one of the great European powers during the Middle Ages. Poland’s Casimir III was the first crown head of Europe to grant legal protection to Jewish subjects. It was also one of the few European countries untouched by the Black Death, perhaps the result of good national karma. The glory of Medieval Poland is evoked in Kamil Polak’s visually arresting animated short The Lost Town of Świteź (trailer above), which screens this Saturday as part of the shorts program during the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Transitions retrospective of recent Polish cinema.

Based on Adam Mickiewicz’s epic poem, one of many celebrating Poland’s folklore, Town begins on the proverbial dark and stormy night. A nineteenth century nobleman’s carriage is waylaid by the inclement weather. Far from a sanctuary, this forest appears to be enchanted. Seeking refuge from spectral horse-soldiers, the man finds himself transported to the mythic city of Świteź, where he witnesses its destruction at the hands of the hordes pursuing him. As the city faithful send up orisons to heaven, a choir of angels comes down to bear witness to man’s carnage (and perhaps the salvation of the next life).

Combining specially commissioned oil paintings, rendered in a style suggestive of great Polish artists like Józef Chełmoński and Aleksander Gierymski, with state of the art computer animation, Town has a rich, ethereal look unlike any in recent animation. Some enterprising film festival ought to program it with Lech Majewski’s The Mill and the Cross, which in many ways is the nearest comparable film.

Perhaps though, what is most striking about Town is the unapologetically powerful Christian imagery. Completely without irony, Polak’s film conveys an apocalyptic Christian vision with far greater overwhelming immediacy than anything attempted in recent evangelical cinema. Yet it can also be enjoyed simply as a Slavonic variant on the Atlantis archetype. The film is also perfectly scored by Irina Bogdanovich, whose compositions unambiguously suggest the Middle Ages, but with a hint of romanticism.

Town truly proves animation can be both a form of entertainment as well as high art. Best appreciated on the big screen, Polak will present his painterly canvas in-person when Town screens this Saturday (9/10) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of Transition’s shorts block. It will also screen again in New York later in the month (9/23) at the 2011 NYC Short Film Festival as part of program A.

Posted on September 8th, 2011 at 3:02pm.

Patti Smith

By David Ross. Let’s admit it. We all have a weak spot for certain women from the wrong side of the political tracks. Maybe you have little fantasies about discussing Bresson with Susan Sontag while soaping her back in the tub. Maybe you imagine sharing the Sunday paper with Joan Didion. My own weakness – lifelong – is for Patti Smith. I had a girlfriend who gamely stood in line to have Patti sign a CD copy of Horses for me. When she finally got to the front of the queue, she told Patti, “My boyfriend is in love with you.” Patti said, “Doesn’t he notice these grey hairs?” My girlfriend said, “I don’t think he cares.” Well spoken on my behalf.

William Blake offers – perhaps ‘records’ is the more appropriate verb – this exchange with the prophet Isaiah in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell:

Then I asked: “Does a firm persuasion that a thing is so, make it so?”
He replied, “All poets believe that it does, and in ages of imagination the firm persuasion removed mountains; but many are not capable of a firm persuasion of anything.” (V, 27-32).

What’s so alluring in the supra-physical sense is Patti’s capacity for this “firm persuasion.” She’s not mugging (like Bono) or merely howling (like Kurt Cobain): her music is a disciplined act of conviction in her own poetic and prophetic calling. One can look awfully silly as a self-styled poet or prophet (Jim Morrison certainly did) but Patti never waivers and never allows the spell to break; we’re convinced in the end because she’s utterly convinced from the start. Arguably, Patti was the last legitimate keeper of the romantic flame itself, that desperate belief in art that began in the late nineteenth century and guttered utterly in our own time.

A bony, boyish waif from Woodbury Gardens, NJ, Smith cut her teeth at the Chelsea Hotel and St. Mark’s Church during the late 1960s and early 1970s, achieving minor underground celebrity as an actress, playwright, rock journalist, artist, and poet. Her chief inspirations were predictable but nonetheless powerful: Rimbaud, Genet, Burroughs, Ginsberg, Dylan, Hendrix, the Rolling Stones. In 1971, she began to recite her poetry to guitarist Lenny Kaye’s accompaniment. By 1976, she had improbably become the most acclaimed female rock star since Janis Joplin and Grace Slick had emerged ten years earlier.

Smith’s first album, Horses (1975), weds cascades of Beat-and Symbolist-inflected poetry to the lean, driving sound of proto-punk garage rock. The album remains a signature argument for the artistry of rock’n’roll and is to my mind one of the ten supreme albums of the rock era. Rolling Stone ranks Horses 44th on its list of the 500 greatest albums of all time, just behind Dark Side of the Moon. This becomes a backhanded compliment when you consider certain albums that rank higher: the Eagles’ Hotel California (#37), Carol King’s Tapestry (#36), David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (#35), U2’s The Joshua Tree (#26), Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours (#25), and Michael Jackson’s Thriller (#20). Preferring Tapestry to Horses is like preferring Jennifer Aniston to Veronica Lake – an aesthetic misjudgment that raises questions about one’s entire world view.

Judge for yourself: here is the epic studio version of “Birdland,” Smith’s fantastic synthesis of Arthur C. Clarke, Shelley’s Queen Mab, and the Book of Revelations. Ponder also these scruffy, raging, nearly epileptic live versions of “Horses” and “Gloria.” Continue reading Patti Smith

Punk Rock Behind The Iron Curtain: LFM Reviews All That I Love

By Joe Bendel. Punk rock is supposed to be subversive. For Communist Poland poised on the brink of Martial Law, it was downright revolutionary, in spades. Yet, young Janek and his friends were not trying to be political, and this is exactly why their music is so threatening in Jacek Borcuch’s All That I Love (trailer above), Poland’s most recent submission for official foreign language Academy Award consideration, which screens this Saturday as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s new retrospective, Transitions: Recent Polish Cinema.

Janek’s brother also plays in his hardcore punk band, All That I Love, affectionately known as ATIL for short. His mother is a nurse, which is all fine and good, but his father is a mid-level officer in the Polish Navy. Ordinarily this is a good thing, leading to a few modest perks for the family. However, when courting Basia Martyniak, the very cute daughter of Solidarity organizers, it is not so hot. The rebellious nature of his music does not cut much ice with the Martyniaks either, but Basia is impressed.

Though not necessarily impressed himself, Janek’s father is still supportive enough to arrange rehearsal space on the local base. Clearly the naval captain is not the typical Communist apparatchik, a fact not lost on Sokołowski, the neighborhood Party snitch. Resenting the boys’ ill-concealed interest in his cougarish wife, Sokołowski targets them where it will hurt the most—their music.

Throughout the film, Borcuch juggles a number of disparate elements quite sure-handedly, including a rather tender coming-of-age romance and some paint-peeling punk, based on the music of the era-appropriate Polish band WC. It is also a story of human tragedy, directly resulting from an inherently oppressive political ideology. Yet part of the irony of ATIL is that Janek’s family will probably be far better off in the new Poland that rises from the ashes of Communism for having gone through their tribulations in the film. Unfortunately, viewers can surmise the short term will be rather long and difficult for them in the December of 1981.

There is no denying the charismatic appeal of Borcuch’s teen-aged leads. Mateusz Kościukiewicz’s Janek could have walked out of Tom Hanks’ That Thing You Do into Jaruzelski’s police state, while as Basia, Olga Frycz resembles a considerably younger and warmer Nicole Kidman. Yet, arguably Andrzej Chrya serves as the lynchpin of the film, investing Janek’s father with humanity and integrity that will first challenge and then reconfirm all our assumptions of Poland’s Communist military.

With convincing period detail, Elwira Pluta’s design team faithfully recreates the bleak look of Martial Law era Poland, when Brutalist-style Soviet housing projects were considered desirable. Nevertheless, despite the apparent downer ending mandated by history, ATIL is a surprisingly uplifting film, deriving optimism from the spirit of its characters.  An excellent kick-off for the FSLC’s Transitions series, ATIL screens this Saturday (9/10) and next Thursday (9/15) at the Walter Reade Theater.

Posted on September 7th, 2011 at 10:15am.

The Legacy of The Holocaust in France: LFM Reviews Sarah’s Key

By Patricia Ducey. The year is 1942; the place, a temporary camp for French Jews just outside Paris. As French gendarmes tear infants away from their hysterical mothers, the children and mothers panic and stampede the police. The officer in charge perceives that the rioting will soon spiral out control. “Cooperate,” he bellows soothingly to the distraught families, “and all will be well.” The crowd calms and a tense order is restored; the women and able-bodied children file away to the waiting train and disappear inside, never again to see the toddlers they left behind.

As I watch this heartbreaking sequence another image comes to mind, perhaps because the ten-year anniversary approaches: the passport image of a 9/11 suicide hijacker. I am struck by the memory of his similar, chilling admonition to “stay quiet and you’ll be okay” as he steered the plane towards the Towers. I now understand why the lies of tyrants and murderers are so simple and so timeless – because they play upon a human nature that rejects the terrible knowledge of such evil. Those simple lies work. This vulnerability resonates throughout the new film Sarah’s Key into the present day, elevating the film from Lifetime bathos to must-see drama.

French director Gilles Paquet-Brenner adapts the best selling novel by Tatiana de Rosnay and brings it successfully to life. His Sarah’s Key whittles down the story to an effective through-line, eliminating some of the novel’s distracting twists and turns – and at the same time fleshing out the characters through a smart and economical script, expert actors and rich cinematography. We feel in the end that this novel had to be a movie, this very movie.

The film begins as Julia Jarmond, an American journalist married and living in Paris, takes on a story assignment about the 1942 roundup of Jews in Paris. She soon discovers a paucity of information: the site of the roundup was torn down years before and only one photograph remains of the incident, buses waiting outside the velodrome. The government has no written records or photos of what went on inside.

The Parisian government willingly collaborated with the Nazis, and prepared well for the morning when they knocked on the doors of thousands of apartments and herded the Jews inside into transports that delivered them to the famous indoor bicycle stadium. These French Jews remained at the Velodrome d’Hiver for days in stifling heat with no sanitary facilities or adequate water; many died there. The rest were eventually transported to camps outside Paris and then to the trains to take them to camps they were told, as usual, were work camps.

Kristin Scott Thomas as Julia Jarmond.

As Julia interviews private individuals still searching for survivors and records, she discovers that her in-laws may have taken over an apartment in the Marais left empty by one such deported Jewish family. The concurrent story of that Jewish family, especially of the daughter Sarah – who hides her little brother in a secret closet in the apartment – intercuts with the present day events until the strands finally come together.

Kristin Scott-Thomas plays Julia, the American living in Paris with her French husband, and handles both the investigative journalist role and her domestic currents with equal skill and heart. The script by Serge Joncour concentrates on her persistence and emotional openness so that we simply cannot imagine anyone else playing her. But young French actress Melusine Mayance as Sarah Starzynski simply amazes; she fills the screen in a pitch perfect performance, full of love and sorrow, courage and intelligence. Wisely, the director allows Sarah’s tragic 1942 story to emerge as the foreground story, while Julia’s present day difficulties provide an echo of the past and a reminder of some eternal truths. Continue reading The Legacy of The Holocaust in France: LFM Reviews Sarah’s Key