Category: Watch Movies!

By Joe Bendel. It makes sense vampires are drawn to New Orleans. The city is unusually preoccupied with its cemeteries and mausoleums. Still, you would think that whole below-sea-level thing would complicate their undead rest, but two antagonistic vampire clans have found safe lairs. However, two rogue cops intend to root out the sadistic Molderos, as long as they enjoy the protection of their rivals by night. Of course, it gets messy when humans and vampires mingle in screenwriter-director Buz Alexander’s Nocturna, which releases this week on DVD, Blu-ray, and VOD from Alchemy.

Harry Ganet is a bitter, grizzled NOPD veteran, who is less than thrilled to be baby-sitting his new partner, the mayor’s gung-ho nephew Roy Cody. There is just no talking to the green detective when they find a so-called “Parish Kid,” one of the waifs branded with a vampire clan’s insignia. The term comes from the mysterious empty parish where they live, waiting to be sucked dry of blood or turned into vampires themselves. Cody figures he march right over and give the girl’s captors a stern talking to, but it does not work out so well for anyone.

The upshot is the Molderos are out to get Ganet and Cody, so the slightly less sinister Brisbane offers them a deal. They can crash at his crib during nights, if they sleuth out the Moldero resting places while the sun is up. Despite his surly attitude, Ganet seems more inclined to accept their hospitality than Cody. Perhaps it has something to do with Lydia Sonata, who also holds a grudge against the Molderos. She was once one of their branded possessions, but Brisbane rescued and turned her.

Granted, Nocturna is more than a little rough around the edges, but it combines elements of the Anne Rice and Underworld mythoi in interesting ways. Yet, Alexander does not share their erotic or action-oriented approaches, focusing instead on the grudges and betrayals of the respective clans and the human interlopers. Frankly, the pseudo-triangle of Sonata, Ganet, and Brisbane is more intriguing than you would expect, because of the supernatural implications of the relationships in question.

Mike Doyle and Mariana Paola Vicente actually display strong screen presences and develop interesting chemistry together as Ganet and Sonata. Danny Agha’s impossibly naïve Cody gets a little tiresome, but after the first act set-up, he disappears for long stretches at a time. As the respective clan leaders, Johnathon Schaech and Billy Blair are the sort of gothy strutting vampires we have seen innumerable times before, but the nearly unrecognizable Estella Warren plays the Moldero queen with a Mommie Dearest edge that is certainly disturbing.

Frankly, Alexander could have used some help coordinating his fight scenes, as well as some more convincing stunt personnel. Nevertheless, he maintains a reasonably creepy vibe and soaks up plenty of atmosphere from Baton Rouge and the Parishes outside New Orleans, where Nocturne was shot (we’d ordinarily complain about the lack of jazz and zydeco on the soundtrack, but these vampires just do not seem like the hip jazz sort of undead). It is just sort of okay, but there have certainly been less auspicious debuts. For those who support NOLA/Louisiana film production, Nocturna releases today (10/6) on various home viewing formats.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on October 6th, 2015 at 11:31pm.

By Joe Bendel. They say it takes a village to raise a child-assassin. In this case, it is more of a utopian commune, which is even better. Alexander is the oldest among the dozens of children training under the charismatic Gregori. Rather logically, that makes him the first to question the Svengali-like father-figure’s authority in Ariel Kleiman’s Partisan, which is now playing in New York.

Gregori “picked up” Susanna at the least likely of times—right after the single mother had given birth to Alexander. It is safe to assume she was feeling somewhat vulnerable at the time. Since then, Gregori has provided for all her material needs. Susanna is content to dote on the somewhat unruly Alexander, sharing Gregori with the half dozen or so women he subsequently invited into their fortified compound. The world outside is scarred by war and post-industrial malaise, but their cloistered oasis has an almost hippyish vibe. Nevertheless, everyone fully understands the lethal nature of the errands the children are periodically tasked with.

When it comes to completing errands, none of the children is as efficient as Alexander. In fact, it is starting to give him a bit of status around the compound. However, the carefully balanced equilibrium will be upset by the arrival of Leo, a difficult eleven year-old who is clearly somewhere else on the spectrum. Although he does not mean to be rebellious, Leo’s willfulness and bluntness clearly rattles Gregori. Their conflict sets in motion an inevitable chain of events that will reveal Gregori’s true nature to Alexander.

Conceived and executed (so to speak) as a dark fable, Partisan has a distinctive vibe that is hard to define, but it is very potent. The compound interiors could pass for a post-apocalyptic bunker designed by Wes Anderson, while the world outside looks like a demilitarized zone, consisting mostly of mammoth bombed-out housing complexes. Those outdoor shots were filmed in Georgia, so part of the credit for the eerie atmosphere is probably due to Vladimir Putin (thanks, but you really shouldn’t have).

Vincent Cassel has played plenty of “intense” characters in the past, but the scariest thing about Gregori is not his mania, but how well he keeps it together. His portrayal suggests equal parts Jim Jones and Dr. Spock. While you could say he chews a good deal of scenery, Cassel still refrains from a lot of screaming and arm-waving, so when he raises his voice, you know it’s serious.

Jeremy Chabriel is a bit inconsistent as Alexander, but he projects the appropriate rodent-like ruthlessness when he needs to. He also develops some believably affectionate chemistry with the Isabella Rossellini-esque Florence Mezzara. Both happen to be French transplants living in Australia, so they obviously shared a connection. They also reinforce the film’s ambiguous national identity.

It is similarly difficult to pigeonhole Partisan in terms of genre. There are plenty of guns laying about, but it is far moodier than conventional thrillers. Regardless, Kleiman takes you someplace you have never visited in movies, where he then unleashes karma to do its thing. Rather unsettling but also quite sly, Partisan is recommended for adventurous cult film fans when it this Friday in New York, at the Village East.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on October 4th, 2015 at 9:03pm.

By Joe Bendel.  Dissident filmmaker Jafar Panahi sort of brought the Taxicab Confessions concept to Iran, but most of the sins that need atoning are those of the Islamist government. The idea of Panahi working as a cabbie might sound appalling, but it makes sense as a cover for his defiant underground filmmaking. Cabs are a common sight on the streets of Tehran and they also have the advantage of being a moving target. Frankly, nobody is really sure how scripted it is, but each fare he picks up is significant in Jafar Panahi’s Taxi, which opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

As the third film Panahi has made since being banned from filmmaking, Taxi is quite an accomplishment just for existing. Although his post-ban films are very self-referential by necessity, Panahi has yet to repeat himself. In this case, he appears to be making a hidden camera documentary about the average citizens who hail his cab, but some of the dialogue is so on the nose calling out his situation and echoing his previous films, it sounds suspiciously hybridized. Of course, on a more general level, the film itself can easily be interpreted as an homage to Abbas Kiarostami’s dash-cam taxi drama, Ten.

Some of Panahi’s “fares” recognize him, while some do not, but they all have something to say. His first two unrelated fares (picking up multiple hails is a standard practice in Tehran) argue about Sharia Law. She is appalled by the public executions, but he seems to think they serve a constructive role controlling society. His job? Mugger.

The third ride-sharer avoids political arguments, eventually revealing himself to be a bootleg hawker. Even Panahi has used his services in the past, because how else would he see Once Upon a Time in Anatolia? He is eager to sell the taxi-driving auteur on a sleazy “Panahi Recommends” bootleg scheme, but the director will not bite. We take it Panahi met plenty would-be exploiters of his ilk during his periods of house arrest. However, things start to really get serious when Panahi is flagged by an accident victim and his wife. During the brief trip to the hospital, they desperately try to hash out some sort of legal arrangement that would not leave her destitute should he die, since Iranian wives do not have inheritance rights under law.

In This is Not a Film, Panahi’s docu-essay capturing the frustration of his time serving the house arrest sentence, he was somewhat upstaged by his pet iguana Igy. However, he never stands a chance once his niece Hana steps in the cab. She has natural comic timing and a flair for delivering dialogue with a mischievous twist. If her scenes were extemporized then Heaven help her parents. Obviously, Panahi thinks she is the bee’s knees, even when she is delivering the heaviest commentary of the film. As part of a class assignment she is tasked with filming a “distributable” film. However, her teacher has given her a long list of absurd restrictions. Panahi knows them well.

Moments like that risk coming across as rather didactic, but Panahi maintains a street-level vitality that makes everything sound fresh and realistic. Beyond Hana, the movie-star in the making, his entire cast of “participants” always keep the film down-to-earth and the energy level cranked up. It would be nice to associate names with our praise, but they remain deliberately unidentified, for their protection.

As one would expect, the reality of Panahi’s situation is reflected in every minute of Taxi, by the secretive nature of its production. Still, he does not force his points, preferring to tease out a critique of current Iranian government and society over time. It is a clever and engaging film that would screen well in dialogue with Sanaz Azari’s criminally under-programmed I for Iran. Frustrating in its honesty, yet strangely satisfying for its resiliency, Jafar Panahi’s Taxi is very highly recommended for everyone who values free expression when it opens this Friday (10/2) at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on October 2nd, 2015 at 3:11pm.

By Joe Bendel.  The “Love Jihad” or “Romeo Jihad” phenomenon, in which young Muslim men seduce non-Muslim women and teens, enticing them into marriage and conversion, culminating in emotional abandonment and in some cases outright exploitation, has been hotly debated in India, but there are precedents in the West, as well. Betty Mahmoody’s ordeal documented in Not Without My Daughter could be considered an early example. Such is also the case when Alain’s daughter elopes with a budding jihadist, irrevocably fracturing his French family in Thomas Bidegain’s Les Cowboys, which screens as a Main Slate selection of the 53^rd New York Film Festival.

Alain, his wife Nicole, sixteen year-old daughter Kelly, and young son “Kid” are French western aficionados, who enjoy kicking up their heels and singing cowboy songs at hoedowns. However, this 1994 round-up will be their last as a family. Much to their shock, Kelly has planned to elope with her secret boyfriend, Ahmed, the radicalized son of assimilated parents. With the help of his Islamist network, they cover their tracks quite thoroughly.

For years, Alain tirelessly searches for them, dragging the obedient Kid along to watch his back. Riffing on John Ford’s The Searchers and Paul Schrader’s Hardcore, Bidegain and co-screenwriter Noé Debré will take Alain into dangerous “No-Go Zones,” before the media was denying their existence. Ultimately, the relentless quest will eventually destroy Alain.

The Kid will duly pick up his standard, but he will try to be smarter about it. Nevertheless, Kelly’s reported proximity to radical Islamist circles greatly alarms him following the World Trade Center bombings and the London 7/7 attacks. Eventually, he will join an NGO relief organization active in the Middle East, hoping to glean information regarding her whereabouts. A mysterious American ransom-fixer might be able to help, but he demands the Kid ride shotgun on his latest dodgy mission first.

Les Cowboys looks like it might be the sort of film the director lost control of, in a good way. Like John Wayne in The Searchers, Alain is intended to be a portrait of corrosive obsession, but François Damiens (playing radically against his lumpy comedic type) humanizes him too effectively. Likewise, everything we learn about Kelly’s subsequent life suggests it is one of profound misery and regret. Sure, there is some kneejerk “Islamophobia” directed at Shahzana, one of Ahmed’s subsequent wives, forced by circumstance to accept sanctuary with the Kid in France. Yet the scene is question comes across as a clichéd and obligatory tack-on. However, their evolving relationship is arguably rather bold and touching, in a haram kind of way.

Those who know Damiens from frothier films like Heartbreaker or Delicacy may not recognize him as the grizzled Alain, but his performance deserves to be an award-winning career turning point. Finnegan Oldfield’s performance as the older Kid is also quite accomplished, depicting the maturation process with rarely seen complexity and sensitivity. Yet, the chemistry he develops with the arresting Ellora Torchia’s Shahzana is the film’s real knockout punch. As an additional bonus, John C. Reilly hams it up just enough, but not too much as the American security contractor.

Bidegain crafted Les Cowboys with unusual subtly. Details like when and where Kelly and Shahzana wear bandanas and headscarves have real significance. It is an uncompromising family tragedy, but it still manages to be deeply satisfying. There are several scenes that truly stay with you. Surprisingly highly recommended, Les Cowboys screens tonight (10/2) at the Gilman Theater, as part of this year’s NYFF.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on October 2nd, 2015 at 3:11pm.

By Joe Bendel. Welcome to a near future dystopia, where legalized drugs are the defining characteristic of the brave new society—or perhaps it is someplace in today’s Colorado, where a lot of British expats have congregated. Since a spotty form of time travel exists in this world, maybe it can be both. However, control over that new temporal technology will lead to even more trouble in Justin Trefgarne’s Narcopolis, which opens this Friday in New York and Los Angeles.

All of the drugs produced by the Ambro Corp come with founder Todd Ambro’s hollow personal guarantee. They are one hundred percent safe, but still head-smackingly effective. As the much abused and neglected son of addicts, he made legalization his personal crusade, so now he maintains his end of the bargain. At least that is the official story. As a narcotics cop or “dreck,” it is Frank Grieves’ job to keep the dangerous unlicensed stuff of the streets—basically anything not produced by Ambro.

Grieves has decidedly mixed emotions about his duties, especially since his corrupt squad chief officer makes no secret of his loyalties to Ambro. He also openly sniffs the company’s products, as is now acceptable in this day and age. Grieves was already on his bad side, but his use of scarce resources on a recent case has further perturbed the corrupt copper. Somehow, he has uncovered a series of bodies and suspects whose DNA is not in the system. Eventually, the elusive and frequently leather-clad Eva Gray will offer him an explanation, but he does not what to hear she is a freedom fighter from the future.

Narcopolis is not exactly a complex film, but you will be hard-pressed to explain just what the Ambro Corp is doing, beyond their core legal narcotics business—or why they are doing it, besides their general all-purpose commitment to villainy. Still, there is something darkly compelling about the film’s vision of post-legalization society. Drugs are now almost omnipresent, even in the top levels of the police force. Although its dystopian cityscape owes a clear debt to Blade Runner and its host of followers, the design team still makes it look slick and coolly oppressive.

Elliot Cowan is serviceable enough as Grieves and Jonathan Pryce gamely chews the scenery as the oddball Russian designer chemist Yuri Sidorov. Yet, somehow the characters never seem to connect with the audience or each other. It does not help that the villains are basically vanilla-flavored cardboard. Even more frustrating, Elodie Yung (Netflix’s Daredevil, District 13: Ultimatum) hardly has any chance to show off her action chops as Gray.

We pretty much know from the start who the mystery corpse is, because the film never gives us any other suspects, yet the revelation is still surprisingly potent. In fact, Trefgarne displays a fair degree of skill. Perhaps instead of marrying together a dystopian drug thriller with a time travel fate-changing fable, he should have focused solely on one or the other (probably the former). Let’s just say he’s no Timothy Woodward, Jr. We’d be happy to see another film from Trefgarne. Even though the pieces don’t quite fit together, genre fans should consider checking it out when it hits Netflix. There is something to it, but probably not enough to justify Manhattan ticket prices. Regardless, it opens today (10/2) at the Arena Cinema in LA and screens ‘round midnight this weekend at the IFC Center in New York.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on October 2nd, 2015 at 3:10pm.