Category: Narrative

By Joe Bendel. Amnesiac attorney Yeon Suk-won has lost the last ten years of his memory. Actually, it is more like thirty years according to the record of his billable hours. Pain and suffering have been his stock and trade, but his own trauma caused a deep psychological fissure. Yeon will try to fit together stray puzzle pieces of his memory in Lee Yoon-jung’s Remember You, which opens today in Los Angeles.

The immediate cause of Yeon’s memory loss was an auto accident, but something else happened in his past that nobody around him wants to talk about. Frankly, there are not a lot of potential volunteers. Nobody comes looking for Yeon as he re-enters society after extensive in-patient therapy, except his law partner Oh Kwon-ho. He is eager for him to resume work on Kim Yeong-hee’s murder trial, but Yeon is no longer the legal shark she retained. There is something a little fishy about her—and she thinks Yeon ought to know why, but he is clueless.

In addition to the generally disorienting effects of his localized amnesia, Yeon is also distracted by the mysterious Kim Jin-yeong, whom he constantly crosses paths with. Obviously, she also has her issues and the resulting meds, but Kim seems to know more about him than she lets on. Regardless, they quickly commence a passionate, slightly dysfunctional affair. Yet, just when things start getting good, flashes from Yeon’s past threaten to destabilize their relationship.

Lee plays intriguingly odd tonal games throughout Remember You in a mostly distinctive kind of way. Several times it flirts with Hitchcockian suspense, only to revert back to melodrama in each case. Still, it is very much a mystery and often rather atmospheric. Lee’s screenplay (a fix-up of her 2010 short film) also manages to end on a note that should satisfy romance fans, but is not the least bit sentimental or overly pat, which is a neat trick to pull off.

Korean superstars Jung Woo-sung and Kim Ha-nel develop some wonderfully potent yet thorny chemistry as the romantic leads. Kim is particularly poignant as Kim Jin-yeong. Rather than let loose with cheap theatrics, we very directly see and feel how desperately she is trying to contain herself. As Oh, Bae Sung-woo (so effective in Hong Won-chan’s Office) memorably takes the clichéd best friend role and takes it in sleazier direction. However, Jang Young-nam basically upstages everyone as the potential black widow femme fatale.

Even though it is not a thriller per se, Lee Yoon-jung keeps the audience guessing right up to the third act revelation (perhaps a little too much, since the many flashback sequences are not always clearly delineated). The attractive co-leads and the small but accomplished cast of supporting players are also key to maintaining our intrigued focus. Frankly, it is one of the better psychological dramas you will see that opts more for tragedy than suspense. Recommended pretty enthusiastically, Remember Me opens today (1/15) in Los Angeles at the CGV Cinemas and next Friday (1/22) in Dallas at the Cine Oasis.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on January 15th, 2016 at 8:51am.

By Joe Bendel. He went from being the Great Dictator to the Little Tramp in a matter of hours. Still, it is hard to feel sorry for “His Majesty,” because he totally had it coming. His five year-old grandson is a different matter, especially when the revolution takes an inevitably ugly turn. Karma finally catches up with this Soviet-style hold-over in Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s The President, which screens during the 2016 Iranian Film Festival DC at the National Gallery of Art.

Young Dachi, or “His Royal Highness” as the servants call him, is about as entitled as it gets. He is in awe of his grandfather, the President of this fictionalized Eastern European-Transcaucasian nation. The President dotes on Dachi in return, especially since his parents were assassinated by rebels, an awkward truth the old man does not have the heart to share. That would seem to be an ill omen, but the President heedlessly continues his tyrannical ways. He probably could have gotten out while the getting was good with the rest of his family, but the President was convinced the sudden outbreak of riots and street fighting was a temporary setback.

Unfortunately, the indulgent grandfather allowed Dachi to stay behind with him. As the rebellion intensifies, the President’s officers and bodyguards turn on him to save themselves. Forced to disguise themselves as street musicians, the President and Dachi will rub unwashed shoulders with his formerly oppressed subjects. It will be an eye-opening experience for them both.

Many commentators have noted the uncanny resemblance the President and Dachi bear to Belarusian dictator Alexander Lukashenko and his uniform-sporting son. Even with different wardrobe choices, it is hard to imagine a film about the violent overthrow of despot in his neighborhood could otherwise carry the Lukashenko seal of approval.

It is also hard to envision The President being well received in Makhmalbaf’s native Iran, either. After all, it is just as critical of the revolution that topples the old tyrant as it is of his iron-fisted misrule. Frankly, the film is downright Burkean in its revulsion for revolutionary excess. Of course, Makhmalbaf has seen it all first hand. Once an ardent supporter of the Iranian Revolution, he went into exile in protest of government censorship and has since evaded four assassination attempts.

Even though The President could be fairly described as an allegorical fable, it is unusually nuanced and ethically thorny. Misha Gomiashvili’s delicately modulated performance as the increasingly haggard President is a major reason why. In every scene it is hard to completely damn him, but also impossible to even partially forgive his ever so well-established sins.

Throughout The President, we are constantly reminded absolute power corrupts absolutely. However, Makhmalbaf just as vividly shows viewers the score-settling and opportunism that comes with revolution. He makes a profound distinction between the real deal dissidents, such as the tortured wretches His Majesty and Dachi temporarily fall in with, and the former flunkies of oppression now brutalizing the weak and vulnerable in the name of revolution. It might sound laborious, but Makhmalbaf maintains a high degree of tension and a vigorous pace from the first scene to the last.

Indeed, it is a bold, principled cinematic vision that deserves serious attention and study. Very highly recommended, The President (distributed by Corinth Films) screens this Sunday (1/17) at the National Gallery of Art, as part of the Iranian Film Festival DC and the following Thursday (1/21) and Sunday (1/24) at the Museum of Fine Arts as part of the Boston Festival of Films from Iran.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on January 14th, 2016 at 4:52pm.

By Joe Bendel. Anna Rook is so severely agoraphobic, she will not leave her home, even when home invaders break-in. Yet, why should she? Rook has greater home field advantage than the Green Bay Packers playing at Lambeau Field in the middle of a blizzard. Her house has a few special modifications that her uninvited guests will learn about the hard way in Adam Schindler’s Intruders (a.k.a. Shut-In), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Rook has long cared for her terminally-ill brother Conrad, out of sibling love and dark secrets that apparently tie them together. Their only visitors are Danny, a delivery guy from a Meals-on-Wheels-like service and Conrad’s lawyer Charlotte, who is trying to get Anna to face up to the inevitable. When her brother finally dies, Anna’s condition remains unremitting, prohibiting her from attending Conrad’s funeral.

It turns out Danny told three of his thuggish pals about the considerable amount of cash she keeps in the house, but neglected to mention her agoraphobia. They duly break-in expecting her to be at the funeral. Of course, finding the grieving Anna will not dissuade the alpha dog JP or the psychotic Perry from their mission. However, the more passive Vance is definitely thrown by her presence. His instincts will soon be validated when Anna lures them into the specially modified basement. It is really more of a dungeon and interrogation chamber, where the Rook siblings apparently lured pedophiles, like their despised late father.

For the three outsiders and the late arriving Danny, it is sort of Rube Goldbergian nightmare. Frankly, it is a little hard to believe anyone could install a retractable staircase like that without attracting some sort of notice. Regardless of credibility, Schindler gives Anna plenty of remote-controlled doors and secret passageways, so he might as well let her take full advantage.

In one of the coolest bait-and-switches ever, what starts as a horror film instantly morphs into an unapologetic payback thriller. It also has the extra, added attraction of inflicting a whole lot of pain on Rory Culkin (as the quickly remorseful Danny). Frankly, Culkin’s presence is fittingly ironic, since Intruders could be considered an evil cousin to Home Alone. The character of Anna Rook is kind of all over the place, but Beth Riesgraf certainly conveys how messed up she is inside. Likewise, as JP and Perry, Jack Kesy and Martin Starr are electric live-wires of despicableness. Seeing the tables turned on them is awfully satisfying.

Intruders is not for the faint of heart or the pedantic. However, genre fans will definitely dig the way Schindler rolls up his sleeves and gets the job done. Recommended for those who appreciate its E.C. Comics-esque ethical convictions, Intruders opens tomorrow (1/15) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on January 14th, 2016 at 4:50pm.

By Joe Bendel. We might have our misgivings, but the NSA and Department of Homeland Security will assure us their data collection is strictly for our protection. Therefore, a contractor is put in a rather tough spot when he uncovers a threat that is not national security related. Its apparently supernatural nature makes it even more awkward. That poor specialist is in for an eyeful in Matthew Solomon’s Chatter, which screens during the 2016 Philip K. Dick Film Festival in New York.

Is it possible malevolent spirits can travel through Skype? Just watch the opening prologue featuring old school Battlestar Galactica’s Richard Hatch. He will not be returning, nor will his on-screen daughter. David and Laura Cole might be the next to learn this lesson. He has returned to Los Angeles to restart his film composing career, in the hopes she can soon join him from London. Being apart, they share a little “sexy time” via webcam, thereby attracting Martin Takagi’s clandestine interest. However, he periodically sees strange shapes and the like behind the musician that trouble him.

Plagued by eerie sobbing noises and a general sense of unease, David Cole gets little sleep and his disposition suffers. Soon his email files start to go astray and his Skype connects at odd hours of the night. Belatedly, he learns his apartment has had a revolving door for tenants and a reputation for being haunted by a young girl’s spirit. As first, Laura Cole fears he is losing it, but she eventually starts to experience the same ghostly phenomenon. Then the entity really starts to get nasty, which greatly alarms Takagi. However, the director clearly implies he should keep a lid on it.

There have already been a number of skype-surveillance found footage horror films, like Ratter and Joe Swanberg’s installment of the original V/H/S, but Solomon develops a fresh take on the sub-sub-genre. Chatter is certainly informed by the NSA’s controversial data recording and collection programs (the agency and DHS are ironically thanked in the acknowledgements), but the film is not stridently political. In terms of tone, it is more in the tradition of Blumhouse’s supernatural horror than contemporary cyberpunk, but that is not a bad thing.

If you did not already know it is Hatch in the opening sequence, you would probably not recognize him. Regardless, he and Alison Haislip hook us in pretty much from the start. Sarena Khan’s presence really commands the [split] screen as Laura Cole. Conversely, Brady Smith’s whiny demeanor gets tiresome, but the role reversal of victimized husband and doubting wife further distinguishes Chatter from the genre field.

Chatter was obviously shot on a shoestring, even by found footage standards, but Solomon largely overcomes his severe budget constraints. He throws the audience a few twists that are adequately established but not glaringly obvious and keeps the tension nicely amped up. Viewers should also be advised there is a stinger that holds narrative significance. Altogether, it is really scary in multiple ways. Recommended for Blumhouse and Rand Paul fans, Chatter screens this Saturday (1/16) at the Cinema Village, as part of this year’s Philip K. Dick Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on January 14th, 2016 at 4:49pm.

By Joe Bendel. If you grew up in the 1980s, you remember when 3D was considered a tacky down-market gimmick. Local stations used to distribute cardboard red-and-blue glasses for the “special” weekend 3D “extravaganzas.” Thanks to the anaglyphic process it employed, Julian Roffman’s weird tale looked relatively presentable when broadcast on television. It also happens to be considered the very first Canadian horror movie (and one of the few not starring Stephen McHattie). Acting out of patriotic duty, TIFF spearheaded and premiered a loving restoration of Roffman’s cult favorite, The Mask, which screens this weekend at Anthology Film Archives.

Archeologist Michael Radin has just stalked and murdered a young woman while under the influence of a sinister ritual mask. Perhaps it was a dream, but don’t count on it. Regardless, the mask is tearing apart his soul and unhinging his mind. His new shrink, Dr. Allan Barnes is no help, because he assumes Radin’s obsession with the mask is just a symptom of a larger issue, as most psychologists would. However, Radin shows him just how wrong he was by mailing him the mask just before committing suicide.

Naturally, Barnes sticks the ominously evil but not particularly comfortable looking mask on his head, at which point he gets the first of several massively bad trips, for which the film kicks into 3D gear (the more “grounded” parts being conventional 2D). Filled with surreal, more than slightly outré images of skulls, death’s heads, floating eyeballs, temptresses, and sacrificial altars, these hallucinatory interludes are arguably well ahead of their time. They are nearly as memorable as the dream sequences in Rosemary’s Baby and Spellbound (which were a collaboration between Hitchcock and Dalí).

Needless to say, the good doctor is not himself from this point on. His faithful fiancé and mentor will try to save him, but he is obsessed with the mask’s power to tap into the human subconscious. Unfortunately, his torch-carrying secretary is most at risk from his violent, mask-dominated new persona.

The Mask might not necessarily be scary, but it is still weird as all get out. Barnes’ feverish visions while wearing the mask have lost none of their what-the-heck power. They are just bizarre. Although they are credited to Serbian expatriate filmmaker and montage-specialist Slavko Vorkapich, his concepts were so prohibitively over-the-top, Roffman had to devise the more practical and macabre phantasms that torment Dr. Barnes. Yet, somehow he was able to tap into something way out there and deeply messed up.

As an added bonus, the acting is not bad. Paul Stevens, who convincingly loses his marbles as Dr. Barnes, would have notable roles in Patton, Advise & Consent, and Exodus, in addition to about a jillion TV guest appearances. Future director Martin Lavut is also spectacularly snide and antisocial as the imploding Radin. But wait, there’s more, including legendary PR huckster Jim Moran claiming to be a mask collector while serving as the film’s Criswell in the hyperbolic cold intro.

Whether you classify it as horror, dark fantasy, or a psychological thriller, The Mask could easily sustain dozens of film studies theses. This is how 3D was meant to be—deliriously nutty. If you haven’t caught up with it yet, its mini-run at Anthology is the perfect opportunity. Highly recommended for cult film fans, it screens this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (1/15-1/17).

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on January 13th, 2016 at 12:43pm.

By Joe Bendel. International relief workers finally get the M*A*S*H treatment. These Aid Across Borders volunteers hook-up and joke around, but they truly want to help the civilian population that has been so traumatized by the Balkan War. However, a relatively simple task will escalate into a life-and-death crisis in Fernando León de Aranoa’s English language debut, A Perfect Day, which opens this Friday in New York.

A rotund corpse has been dumped in a Balkan village’s only potable drinking well. Mambrú, a veteran Spanish field worker and his local fixer Damir were on the case, but their rope broke. Their gonzo colleague B and the naïve rookie Sophie were nearby, but they are fresh out of rope. Unfortunately, the nearest general store has plenty of rope, but it happens to be in a different ethnic conclave. It is pretty clear the locals were either responsible for the body in the first place or are protecting those who put it there.

Thus begins an increasingly absurd and dangerous quest for rope. Frankly, it is probably the first time B has been so determined to find hemp in this form. Of course, the UN (the Blue Helmets) are not much help. Unfortunately, the Aid Across Borders bureaucracy does not understand the boots-on-the-ground realities either. Believing the truce renders their services unnecessary, they have dispatched Mambrú’s former mistress Katya to write a report that confirms their judgement. Whether she likes it or not, she is about to join the mismatched quartet in their mad dash for rope—and it is rather pressing. If they can remove it within twenty-four hours, the purification process will be relatively non-invasive, but if the well is befouled any longer than that, it will have to be closed.

Maybe they would have a better chance of finding rope if they could actually identify which country they were in. All we are told is that it takes place somewhere in the Balkans circa 1995. It sure looks like Bosnia and the sinister folks who refuse to share their rope definitely bring to mind the Bosnian Serbs, but the mealy-mouth nature of León de Aranoa’s screenplay (based on a novel by Paula Farias, former head of the Spanish operational section of Doctors Without Borders) is rather annoying on that score. That is a shame, because the film has real bite when it conveys a sense of war’s random cruelty and the cluelessness of the UN forces.

The NGO’s international constituency allows León de Aranoa to assemble an interesting cast that probably would not otherwise have a chance to work together. Tim Robbins arguably does his funniest work since The Player as the defiantly rude B. Mélanie Thierry’s guileless Sophie serves as an effective audience proxy when confronting the disillusioning realities of war. Naturally, Bernicio Del Toro plays Mambrú the ladies’ man, because what woman could resist a piece of man candy like him, right? Of course, Olga Kurylenko’s sex appeal is better established, but she plays Katya as a refreshingly smart and assertive professional. However, the real discovery is the Bosnian Fedja Stukan, who basically steals the show as the salt-of-the-earth but decidedly vulnerable Danir.

There are some wickedly clever scenes and some depressingly bitter ironies in APD. If León de Aranoa had not decided to bend over backwards to avoid offending anyone, it could have been a definitive film on the Balkan War. Instead, it is a good film rather than a great one, primarily for the way it captures the very real dangers (including landmines and dubious paramilitary checkpoints) faced by international relief workers. Recommended for those who already have a solid grounding on the 1990s conflict, A Perfect Day opens this Friday (1/15) in New York, at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on January 13th, 2016 at 12:42pm.