Month: October 2014

By Joe Bendel. Whenever the sea is personified, it is always in a malevolent way. For many seafaring Scottish villagers, there is a devil in the ocean. They are mostly speaking figuratively, but the suggestion takes root in the grieving teenage protagonist of Paul Wright’s For Those in Peril, which opens today in Los Angeles.

Aaron’s older brother Michael was always popular with their peers, while he was the awkward one. Yet, somehow when their fishing boat encountered some sort of mishap at sea, only Aaron returned. With no memory of what happened to the others, he faces the village’s superstitious doubt and scorn as best he can, but his own survivor’s guilt is even harder to bear. As time passes with little social or emotional relief for the young man, he becomes convinced his brother is still out there, waiting for Aaron to rescue him from the sea.

Aside from his wrung-out mother, only Michael’s almost-fiancée Jane offers Aaron any support. However, that sort of compassion does not sit well with her loutish father. Increasingly isolated and alienated, Aaron starts planning some desperate and probably hopeless measures.

Even though Peril always stays safely north of the Mendoza line separating proper cinema from genre film, a profound sense of spiritual uneasiness permeates the film. It is an earthly tragedy, yet like Aaron, we keep holding out hope for some sort of magical realism deliverance. Wright compellingly evokes the feeling you can almost step outside of time to correct some cosmic mistake if you only try hard enough, which those who have experienced deep remorse will recognize only too well.

Of course, we cannot undo what is done, which makes it so painful to watch George MacKay’s powerfully brittle lead performance. It is a quiet turn, but so intense you can practically see the gaping wound in his psyche. Likewise, Kate Dickie is nearly as devastating as the mother mourning her first son while trying to save the second, However, one of the greatest surprises is the soul and depth of Nichola Burley’s work as Jane, representing a quantum step up from her party girl roles in movies like Donkey Punch.

If ever there was a film that could be described as “moody,” it would be Peril, with considerable credit due to the sad beauty of cinematography Benjamin Kracun’s forlorn seascapes and penetrating close-ups. Wright masterfully controls the vibe, but he might overdo the perceptual stylization a tad, here and there. Regardless, it thunderously announces the arrival of its youngish talent, including Wright behind the camera and MacKay and Burley in front of it. Recommended for discerning audiences, For Those in Peril opened yesterday (10/3) in Los Angeles at the Arena Cinema.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on October 4th, 2014 at 3:35pm.

By Joe Bendel. This is one family drama that could not take place in New York, because that pesky ban on mixed martial arts bouts remains in effect. Instead, the Kulina family weighs-in in Venice, California, where hardnoses and stoners live in close proximity. Time will tell whether the family that cage-fights together stays together in creator-showrunner Byron Balasco’s Kingdom, which premieres on DirecTV’s Audience Network this coming Wednesday.

Alvey Kulina came up in the wild and woolly days of MMA, faring just well enough to earn a small but devoted fanbase. Retired from the ring, but still seriously bad, Kulina now owns and operates Navy St. MMA, where he trains the general public and potential contenders alike. Currently, the best fighter in his gym is his youngest son, Nate. Kulina’s eldest son Jay also used to train at Navy St., but his father gave him the boot because of his bad attitude and hard partying.

Into their lives some drama will fall when Ryan Wheeler is released from prison. Kulina used to manage the natural born fighter, but Wheeler abruptly dumped him just as his career ignited. When Wheeler’s drug-fueled rage landed him a stint up the river, his girlfriend Lisa Prince understandably cut her losses. Regretfully, he came to realize she was probably “the one,” but she has since become involved with Alvey Kulina. So yeah, awkward. There also happen to be a couple of drug dealers out for revenge after the beatdown old man Kulina lays on them in the opening minutes of the show. He’s such a badass, he hardly gives it any thought, but they seem rather put out by it.

Without question, Frank Grillo (from Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Warrior) is the key piece to this puzzle. He has all kinds of grit and presence as the senior Kulina, bringing legit action chops to the party, as well. Frankly, Kingdom is a perfect example why you need to see a fair number of episodes before passing judgment on a series, because Jay Kulina is like fingernails on the blackboard in the first episode, but in the next three installments, Jonathan Tucker gets a solid handle on the character, making his irresponsible self-destructiveness sympathetic and sometimes even fun.

Likewise, Kiele Sanchez’s Prince initially only seems to be around to lecture Alvey regarding money issues as Navy St.’s business manager, but she develops in insightful ways, particularly with respect to the older Kulina siblings. There is an understanding she probably has more in common with the Kulina brothers, but finds herself a maternal role, by virtue of her relationship with the father. Unfortunately, Nick Jonas’s moody, energy-killing brooding is still pretty boring, but there is time to figure out something better for Nate to do.

Frankly, given Prince’s proactive nature and the surprisingly high ratio of interpersonal drama to MMA, Kingdom appears to be targeting women as much as men. There are certainly plenty of shirtless guys, but there is also some well staged MMA sequences and the occasional bit of female nudity, in order to establish its cable-satellite edginess.

Not surprisingly, as a blend of MMA and family melodrama, Kingdom is somewhat uneven, but briskly watchable, firmly held together by Grillo’s grizzled coolness. At risk of abusing metaphors, you might argue it wins a split decision. Sort of a slightly guilty pleasure for fans of the sport, Kingdom premieres this Wednesday (10/8) on DirecTV’s Audience Network.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on October 4th, 2014 at 3:35pm.

By Joe Bendel. In 1926, Pier Paolo Pasolini’s father foiled an attempt to assassinate Benito Mussolini. Unfortunately, there would be nobody to intercede when Pasolini fils was murdered, most likely by a gay hustler, but the Italian auteur’s death has almost spawned as many conspiracy theories as the Kennedy assassination. The filmmaker’s final days are now the subject of Abel Ferrara’s speculative passion play, Pasolini, which screens during the 52nd New York Film Festival.

Ferrara’s affinity for Pasolini makes perfect sense, given the penchant they share for sexually and religiously charged subject matter. As Ferrara’s film opens, Pasolini is wrapping post-production on his Marquis de Sade opus, Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom. To this day, it remains one of the most controversial and difficult films ever produced by a prestige filmmaker. Of course, Pasolini was always an extreme figure, politically and aesthetically (holding the dubious distinction of having been expelled from the Italian Communist Party on moral grounds).

Ferrara builds an atmosphere of foreboding and paranoia, clearly inviting the audience to suspect anyone so uncompromising must be a danger to the powers that be. Yet, Pasolini recklessly indulges in the hedonistic lifestyle that will ultimately kill him. Ferrara intercuts his prowling about Rome’s seedy night spots with scenes from the outlandish allegory that would have been his next film: Porno-Teo-Kolossal, a sort of riff on the Biblical Three Wise Men, in which an old Holy fool’s pilgrimage takes him to Sodom’s traditional orgy, where the city’s gays and lesbians come together to procreate.

Truly, Pasolini reflects both the absolute worst and best of Ferrara’s instincts. It is talky, pretentious, and features more explicit gay sex than any non-homophobic straight cineaste ever needs to see. Yet, the operatic sweep of it all is rather overwhelming. Ferrara creates a pungent sense of 1970s Rome, simmering with crime and ideology. Dark and sleazy, it all radiates malevolence thanks to cinematography Stefano Falivene.

Frankly, Willem Dafoe, a frequent Ferrara co-conspirator, makes a downright spooky Pasolini stand-in. He is so gaunt and dissipated looking, the audience might throw him an intervention if he appears at a screening. Watching him play out Pasolini’s final days is like watching a ghost. For better or worse, it is his film and perhaps his career role, but it is also quite eerie to see Pasolini favorite Ninetto Davoli wayfaring through the “Maestro’s” unmade film.

Pasolini is bold auterist filmmaking and a quality period production. It is also rather a mess, but it should not be lightly dismissed. Despite or because of Ferrara’s myriad excesses, when you walk out of his Pasolini, you know you saw a film. Recommended for fans of Ferrara and Pasolini at their most Ferrara and Pasolini, Ferrara’s Pasolini screens this Thursday (10/2) at Alice Tully Hall and Friday (10/3) at the Gilman, as Main Slate selection of this year’s NYFF.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on October 1st, 2014 at 12:32pm.

By Joe Bendel. Thanks to Scotland’s independence referendum, Northern Ireland will probably get a taste of Devo Max. The increased autonomy would hardly have satisfied the irrationally violent “Provisional” IRA in the 1970s. One British soldier stranded in the wrong neighborhood will try to elude the faction’s death squad, but there will be other interested parties also hunting him in Yann Demange’s ’71, which screened as a Main Slate selection of the 52nd New York Film Festival.

Private Gary Hook’s unit has been hurriedly dispatched to Belfast, which is just as much a part of the UK as Piccadilly Circus or Leicester Square. Yet, it is most definitely dangerous duty. On his first waking day in Northern Ireland, Hook finds himself facing down a mob. Trying to build trust, the relatively green Lieutenant sent them out in berets rather than flak helmets. In retrospect, this was a mistake. As the chaos spirals out of control, Hook and his mate Thompson are separated from the unit. Thompson takes a bullet to the head from a Provisional assassin, but Hook is able to elude the gunman and his partner.

Hook finds a temporary refuge, but he has no idea how to reach his barracks. He is surrounded by a Catholic population that would either like to kill him or is too frightened of the various IRA contingents to protect him. Nevertheless, he finds a guide in the form of the rabble-rousing seven year old nephew of a high-ranking Protestant paramilitary. Unfortunately, this only leads to more trouble, when Hook narrowly survives an accidental bomb detonation that could deeply embarrass a small detachment of sinister British intelligence officers. Hook’s death would be quite convenient for them.

’71 has an overpowering sense of place, but instead of Belfast, it was shot in Liverpool, Blackburn, Sheffield, and Leeds, which does not say much for those municipalities’ urban ambiance. It looks like the entire city is a housing project (or an estate in British parlance). As night falls, Tat Radcliffe’s cinematography becomes ghostly and disorienting, perfectly mirroring Hook’s increasingly confused state and powerfully reinforcing the edgy vibe.

Rising star Jack O’Connell looks ridiculously young and lost in the grim, battle-scarred world, but that is the whole point. In fact, he is quite effective as an earnest and innocent POV figure for the audience to identify with. Many of the assorted combatants rather blur together, but David Wilmot stands out as Boyle, the local old guard IRA leader. Babou Ceesay (who deserves to become a series regular after his guest spot on last season’s Lewis) is also terrific as the hard but decent Corporal. However, Corey McKinley upstages everyone as Hook’s ferocious young ally (evidently W.C. Fields was right, even in Belfast).

Despite portraying some pretty savage behavior on the part of the IRA factions and their sympathizers, Demange and screenwriter Gregory Burke go out of their way to paint the British Army in a negative light. (I’d still trust the honor and professionalism of Her Majesty’s armed forces over any other military, aside from America’s armed services.) Regardless, Demange crafts a tight, tense white knuckle night of the soul. He certainly proves he can stage a riot. Although they are radically different in many respects, the one film ’71 consistently brings to mind is Carol Reed’s absolutely classic Odd Man Out, which is a heavy statement. Recommended on balance for patrons who appreciate gritty military thrillers, ’71 screened as part of this year’s NYFF.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on October 1st, 2014 at 12:32pm.