Day: September 2, 2014

By Joe Bendel. Polish science fiction master Stanislaw Lem deftly satirized Soviet utopianism in The Futurological Congress. For his modernized riff, Israeli filmmaker Ari Folman uses Hollywood as the new evil empire. It is a smooth substitution. In the very near future, the movie business will take exploitation to even greater technological heights, as Robin Wright learns first-hand when she plays herself in Folman’s The Congress, which opens this Friday in New York.

Lem’s novel may have provided the seed of inspiration, but you will not find his well traveled hero Ijon Tichy. Instead, Wright will attend the conference in his stead, but first we will witness the final days of her acting career. Despite her early success in hits like The Princess Bride, Folman’s Wright turned out to be difficult to work with, frequently dropping out of high profile roles at the last minute. While she always claimed it was for the sake of her ailing son Aaron, her frustrated agent really knows it is fear and a lack of confidence that sabotaged her career.

However, Miramount has a final offer to make. For a lump sum payment, they will digitize Wright and program her into all the hit movies she was never shrewd enough to accept. Evidently, this is the way the business is going, so she reluctantly accepts. Twenty years later, she is the biggest star in the business, but nobody recognizes the real Wright. Accepting an invitation to speak at Miramount’s Futurological Congress, Wright plans to challenge their questionable ethical priorities from the podium. However, to get there, she must travel into Miramount’s animated city of avatars. Unfortunately, little things like the nature of time and reality will complicate her plan.

Frankly, the first fifty minutes of live action could have easily been condensed. In fact, by the time the film finally switches over into animation, Folman seems so eager to go off on a fantastical romp he never fully establishes the rules and boundaries of his chemically induced world of cartoon avatars. Still, it all looks spectacularly trippy.

Granted, Folman’s Congress is a bit of a narrative mess and it lacks Lem’s subversive bite, but it is fully stocked with fascinating ideas and surprisingly effective performances. In one of many intriguing side-plots, Folman puts a Matrix-like spin of Otto Preminger’s Laura when Dylan Truliner confesses to Wright he fell in love with her while working as the animator manipulating her digital image.

As Al the agent, Harvey Keitel delivers a monologue to end all monologues, while Paul Giamatti (who could have advised Wright on playing a meta-meta version of herself, having done something similar in Cold Souls) adeptly brings some stabilizing sensitivity and dignity to the film as Aaron’s kindly Dr. Baker. Whether as an animated avatar or in the flesh, Danny Huston also makes a dynamite villain as Miramount (great name) studio boss Jeff Green.

Most importantly, The Congress’ animation is wildly cool and colorful, with enough thinly disguised cameos and visual quotes to reward dozens of repeat viewings. In contrast, the Wright family drama gets tiresome the first time through, especially when it comes to poor, pitiful Aaron, whose bland personality seems to be degenerating along with his sight and hearing. Nevertheless, Folman puts so much crazy ambition up on the screen, it more than compensates for the occasional lapse into Lifetime melodrama. Recommended for fans of cult science fiction and animation, as well as Lem readers who enjoy being scandalized, The Congress opens this Friday (9/5) in New York at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on September 2nd, 2014 at 10:55pm.

By Joe Bendel. Perversely, the Soviet occupation of Latvia probably saved the life of animator Signe Baumane’s grandmother, Anna, at least temporarily. The resulting privations and exploitation provided a distraction from the depression and suicidal impulses that plagued her all her life. Combining art and therapy, Baumane chronicles the mental health trials of the women in her family, culminating with her own struggles in Rocks in My Pockets, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Baumane’s father and his seven brothers and sisters revere their sainted mother, but Baumane slowly pieces together a darker story. She was such a bright young girl, her father saved and even borrowed to send her to college, making Anna one of the few women in 1920s Latvia with an advanced education. Unfortunately, the only job she found after graduation was as the secretary to the entrepreneur who would become Baumane’s grandfather.

Initially, Anna was in awe of his erudition and sophistication, but his jealous controlling side quickly surfaced after their marriage. Instead of living a life of cosmopolitan glamour in the city, Anna dutifully followed her husband into the forest, where he established a turpentine factory. Unlike many of his schemes, it was relatively successful until the Soviets invaded, nationalizing it and everything else in their wake.

With eight mouths to feed, Anna rouses herself from her depression, navigating the life-and-death challenges posed by the Soviets, the Germans, and then the Soviets again. In fact, the Communists never stopped shaking down Anna and her family, confiscating their provisions when they are on the outs as partisans, just as they did when they were conquering oppressors.

Needless to say, Soviet psychiatric care was not exactly scientifically or socially progressive, either. It was mostly just about doping patients up, locking them up, and stigmatizing them thereafter, as Baumane learns first hand. In between, she revisits the sad history of many lost relatives, reading between the lines.

Even if it is animated, a film about depression sounds rather depressing, especially when a good portion of it is set during the Communist era. However, Baumane’s animation is quite striking, often taking viewers down surreal, symbolically resonant rabbit holes, and her message is also empowering and ultimately upbeat. In fact, the closing lines are absolutely unforgettable.

Yes, there is a prescriptive element to the film (tragically timely in the wake of Robin Williams’ death), but animation enthusiasts can enjoy it simply on a visual level. While Baumane tips her hat to Bill Plympton and Jan Svankmajer, her hand-drawn figures and backgrounds often bring to mind the work of Sally Cruishank (although they are somewhat less colorful, perhaps reflecting the subject matter and setting).

Clearly, Rocks is a very personal film, but Baumane’s family experiences offer a highly relevant and accessible perspective on the greater realities of depression and even Twentieth Century Latvian history. She convincingly makes the sort of jump from the private to the universal that Barabara Kopple’s glitzy, self-helpy Running from Crazy miserably failed to pull off. Highly recommended for fans of animation and those who appreciate its message, Rocks in My Pockets opens this Wednesday (9/3) in New York at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on September 2nd, 2014 at 10:54pm.

By Joe Bendel. Known as the “Hungarian Suicide Song,” Rezső Seress’s “Gloomy Sunday” has become the stuff of urban legend, but the only suicide that can be directly linked to it was that of its songwriter. That makes it quite an odd choice for a producer to update for the biggest star on his roster, but it was not entirely Hao’s idea. He had help from the devil doll left behind in his new home. The sinister ragamuffin will be a malevolent influence on Hao’s new family, especially his wife in Po-chih Leong’s Baby Blues, which releases today on DVD and VOD from Well Go USA.

Hao and his pregnant wife Tian Qing have just purchased a spectacular new home for a veritable song. The only drawback seems to be the homeless guy camped across the street, who is always yelling spooky warnings. For some reason, they hardly notice him, but she finds the creepy doll utterly charming. Unfortunately, it seems he is a “Jimi doll,” who drove the previous owners to bad ends. Even though accidents mysteriously follow Hao’s reworked song, now known as “The Intruder,” the mega-popular Ying Lan digs its edginess. Everything seems to be going right for the couple, until it is time to deliver her twins. Adam will make it, but Jimmy will not. However, this leaves a vacuum for the Jimi doll to fill.

Of course, the doctors assure Hao his wife is simply suffering from postpartum depression and perhaps he is, as well. Nonetheless, he and Tian Qing’s tomboy sister Trinket soon suspect something weirder is afoot. Eventually, they even start paying attention to the old cat’s jibber-jabbering.

Yes, Baby Blues owes an obvious “debt” to the Chucky franchise, but it actually has several additional supernatural hooks that often compete with each other. The “Gloomy Sunday” references are actually pretty clever and cool, while the recurring twin motif is rather creepy. Yet, all mixed together they collectively undermine what Poe called the “unity of effect.” There are also loose ends and blind alleys all over the place. Still, one would sort of like to see Keira Knightly and Adam Levine remake the film as “Can a Song End Your Life.”

Beyond the on-screen action, Baby Blues generated considerable interest as the first film co-starring real life couple Raymond Lam and Karena Ng. However, perhaps shrewdly, they do not share any romantic scenes as Hao and Trinket. Without question, Ng gets the better of the deal, proving well suited to the mettlesome sister. In contrast, Lam’s Hao is a bit wooden, saddled with the intuition of cold porridge. At least newcomer Janelle Sing goes nuts pretty convincingly, while Kate Tsui clearly enjoys preening through the film as Ying Lan.

Baby Blues is also the British-born, Los Angeles-based Leong’s first HK production in two decades. It is odd choice of project to lure him back, but it was probably a guaranteed money maker. There are indeed some surprisingly big names attached to this straight forward genre outing, including Irene Wan, who makes the most of her third act near-cameo.

As horror films go, Baby Blues is certainly presentable. Genre fans will appreciate the ways it tweaks various conventions, but the killer doll effects do not meet the industry standard. Leong does not have a particularly strong feel for the requisite mood either, but the veteran cast knuckles down and powers through. The result is a mish-mash, but it has its moments. For fans of HK horror, Baby Blues is now available on DVD, Blu-ray, and VOD from Well Go USA.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on September 2nd, 2014 at 10:54pm.

By Joe Bendel. To this day, there is a reservoir of good will for Mussolini’s Fascist Party in Sicily, thanks in large measure to the “Iron Prefect.” Although he had a checkered personal history with the Fascists, he pursued the Mafia like an Italian Elliott Ness, getting better results for his efforts. After all, they do not give you a nickname like the Iron Prefect for nothing. Gangs will be busted but not permanently eradicated in the historical crime mini-series Cesare Mori, which is now available on DVD from MHz Networks.

Mori was a hard cop to kill. During his first posting in Sicily, he stepped on all the wrong toes pursuing the Carlino Gang and the murder of Count Chiaramonte. Mori succeeds in routing the Carlinos, perhaps too well, leaving a vacuum open for the Mafia factions responsible for the Chiaramonte homicide. Making a deal with the devil, the widow Elena Chiaramonte forges an alliance with the Mafia’s facilitators. She will regret this, but not before she supplies a bogus alibi to her husband’s murderer.

With his prosecution scuttled, Mori is promoted up and out of Dodge. In Bologna, he became the only Prefect to stand up to Black Shirt thuggery. Yet, Mussolini was still willing to return him to Sicily with greater authority when the Mafia’s power started to eclipse that of the state.

Without question, the most intriguing aspect of Cesare Mori the mini-series is Mori’s ambiguous relationship with Il Duce. Conveniently, the real life Mori died before the onset of WWII, so he cannot be implicated in any Fascist war crimes. Still, he was a Party member, who somehow made his peace with Mussolini. Clearly, Pietro Calderoni and his battery of co-screen-writers portray Mori’s fascism much like a reluctant Democrat assistant district attorney in Manhattan. He is keenly aware of the party’s corruption and incompetence, but it is the only game in town if he wants to pursue a career in justice.

On the other hand, the clunkiest storyline in Mori involves Saro, an orphaned mobster’s son temporarily adopted by the Moris until the ambitious future Don Tano Cuccia re-establishes the Mafia’s custody. Watching his high-strung wife pine for the ingrate Saro gets old fast. The production is also rarely helped by Pino Donaggio’s overwrought music, which makes several perfectly respectable dramatic scenes sound and feel unnecessarily melodramatic.

Still, Vincent Pérez (probably best known for the “red cloak” scene in Queen Margot and succeeding Brandon Lee in The Crow: City of Angels) is suitably commanding as Mori. He can also ride a horse, which is important. Evidently, Mori preferred to make his entrances on horseback rather than clambering out of an auto, to cut a more imposing figure with the criminal element. When he swaggers and seethes, Mori works quite well.

Comedic actor Adolfo Margiotta is also surprisingly effective as his deputy, Francesco Spanò, who turns out to be more serious and competent than his hound dog looks suggest. As the Countess, Gabriella Pession generates some flirtatious heat with Pérez, but she is saddled with a problematic character that spends most of the decades-spanning production kidding herself about the state of her affairs.

Mori is a fascinating historical and television figure, whereas Saro is just rather sorry. In fact, it is hard to watch Cesare Mori without analyzing what its respective depictions of Mori, Mussolini, and the Mafia say about current Italian attitudes. In fact, it might be controversial with some audiences because dead-ringer Maurizio Donadoni’s portrayal of Il Duce is unflattering on balance, but not so very different from your average politician on the make. Despite its flaws, director Gianni Lepre keeps the 200 minute mini moving along briskly, while Pérez’s performance provides a steely anchor of conviction. Recommended for fans of gangster dramas with minor aesthetic reservations, Cesare Mori is now available on DVD from MHz Networks.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on September 2nd, 2014 at 10:53pm.