Category: Trailers

By Joe Bendel. Mizuki and Yusuke never actually use the “g” word. It carries too much baggage. After all, Yusuke still has physical form. He can walk around during daylight hours and be seen by others. It just so happens that Yusuke drowned three years ago. However, there are still rules to his current state of being, but Mizuki will accept them as best she can, to reacquaint herself with her dead husband in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Journey to the Shore, which screens during the 53rd New York Film Festival.

Since Yusuke’s body was never recovered, Mizuki never had the closure she needs. However, when Yusuke suddenly appears, she sees it as an opportunity to renew their relationship. In a situation like that, you might as well be optimistic. Rather than fall into their old rut, Yusuke convinces her to take a road trip with him, visiting all the good decent people with whom he spent considerable time as he worked his way back to Tokyo from the coastal scene of his demise.

Most of them will be living, but some are also spirits, like Shimakage, the provincial newspaper distributor, whose persistent guilt for mistreating his wife keeps him tethered to the terrestrial world. It is all very instructive for Mikuzi, especially when she learns Yusuke worked as a cook in the traditional take-out restaurant owned by the very much alive Jinnai and Fujie. Yet, the latter is also profoundly haunted by mistakes from the past. Unfortunately, as they travel on, Mikuzi will start to understand their extra time together is probably not sustainable when she meets a similar couple suffering from supernaturally and stress-induced forms of mental instability.

Journey is an achingly delicate, profoundly humanistic film that will choke you up several times over. It is all about forgiveness and acceptance, fully understanding there are no easy answers in life (or death). It is doomed to be compared to Kore-eda’s Afterlife, but with good reason. Both present an unfussy vision of the afterlife limbo, finding acutely human drama in such a metaphysically significant situation. They are both just great films that renew our faith in cinema without resorting to any special effects or gimmickry.

Although, strictly speaking, she is the one being haunted, Eri Fukatsu is absolutely haunting as Mizuki. It is a performance of quiet power and maturity, the likes of which we rarely see. She also develops believably complex and ambiguous chemistry with Tadanobu Asano’s Yusuke. However, her most emotionally devastating scene probably comes opposite Nozomi Muraoka as the guilt-ridden Fujie. (It is so overwhelming in its simplicity and honesty, it almost unbalances the narrative flow.)

Journey is a spiritually and psychologically intelligent film, featuring a terrific lead performance from Fukatsu and scores of accomplished supporting turns. Kurosawa never sets out to dazzle, but there are numerous scenes that sear themselves into memory. You could say it lives up to the unfulfilled promise of the disappointing screen adaptation of Matheson’s What Dreams May Come. Very highly recommended, Journey to the Shore screens Tuesday (9/29) at Alice Tully Hall and Thursday (10/1) at the Gilman Theater, as a Main Slate selection of the 2015 NYFF.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on September 25th, 2015 at 2:24pm.

By Joe Bendel. When we use the term “genre film,” we usually do not mean genres like romance and coming-of-age movies. It definitely covers horror and science fiction, but could also encompass thrillers, gangster movies, and maybe even westerns. Basically, it means somebody is going to die, probably pretty darn painfully. By that standard, the short films collected in the 53rd New York Film Festival’s Short Program 2: Genre Stories are as genre as it gets.

The programming block starts out with its best foot forward. In Territory, Vincent Paronnaud, Marjane Satrapi’s co-director on Persepolis and Chicken with Plums, takes us to the Pyrenees, circa 1957. Pierre is a rustic shepherd who can handle just about anything with his trusty herding dog. However, even he is a bit concerned when the paratroopers start landing. Soon he gets a good look at why they are there—and its decidedly Cabin Fever-ish or zombie apocalyptic.

For a short film, Territory has massive scope. Paronnaud gets his money’s worth from the Pyrenees location and the genre business is suitably freaky. Obviously, it is far gorier than his collaborations with Satrapi, but it is worthy of their company. That is saying a lot too, because Persepolis is a straight up modern classic and you could make a strong case on behalf of Plums as well.

In comparison, Stephen Dunn’s We Wanted More is a bit of a letdown. It is definitely the smallest film of the bunch, but he does pull off a rather macabre surprise. A child begat through a spot of body horror generally primes us to go in a certain direction, especially when she has perfect powers of mimicry, but Dunn zags the other way.

There is no question Percival Argüero Mendoza’s Sânge is the most disturbing film in the genre program. It is the sort of horror film that hates horror films, showing what happens to a horror buff like Cassandra and her film snob boyfriend when she insists on attending a sketchy Romanian found footage film the ominous Petru Beklea is four-walling in a decrepit, out of the way theater. Let’s just say it looks unnervingly realistic. Seriously, this is a film that could really mess some people up.

For something completely different, Helen O’Hanlon gets downright whimsical in How to be a Villain. A distinguished evil gentleman will give us the 411 on super-villainy and how we can be a part of it. There are amusing lines, but it basically has the depth of a New Yorker cartoon. Still, Mark Stubbs’ mostly black-and-white cinematography and O’Hanlon richly detailed haunted house set design are wonderfully nostalgic for those of us raised on Universal and Hammer monster movies.

The “genre’ definition is at its stretchiest for Andrei Cretuescu’s Ramona, but it has a grindhouse sensibility that definitely still qualifies. There seems to be quite a bit of backstory to the title character that viewers might not entirely pick up. Nevertheless, she is clearly out for payback and her determination is kind of awesome. For grittiness and sleaziness, it is tough to beat.

Indeed, having such ill-tempered, exploitative short films at the New York Film Festival is a real treat. As the class of the field, Paronnaud’s Territory could fit in at any festival, but all of the films have at least some merit. Recommended for horror and revenge thriller fans, Shorts Program 2: Genre Stories screens this Sunday (9/27) and Wednesday (9/30) at the Beale Theater as part of this year’s NYFF.

Posted on September 25th, 2015 at 2:24pm.

By Joe Bendel. Chen Sheng is a much better uncle to his beloved nephew than his half-brother Crazy Face is a father to young Weiwei. Chen is also a medical doctor and a published poet, yet he is the one with a criminal record. Life is complicated for Chen, but he will have the opportunity reflect on his choices in proper Proustian fashion during the course of Bi Gan’s Kaili Blues, which screens during the 2015 Vancouver International Film Festival.

Chen bought into a medical practice established by the older Guang Lian in southeastern Kaili City. Except for Crazy Face, it is mostly quiet there, but that suits him fine. He tries to supply Weiwei with the things his father cannot or will not provide, so it greatly concerns him to hear Crazy Face may have sold the boy. Chen sets out after Weiwei, but a detour through provincial Dangmai holds unexpected significance. Time seems to warp for the medical poet, as he encounters a teenager who seems to be the Weiwei of the future and a hairdresser who is the spitting image of his late wife, Zhang Xi.

Blues is not exactly a plot driven film—and what narrative there is unfolds rather elliptically. However, as a mood piece it is pretty potent stuff. It is also visually quite striking, especially the Rope-like centerpiece sequence, in which the camera follows Chen and Yangyang, the older Weiwei’s sort of girlfriend as they walk throughout nearly every inch of the city and traverse back and forth across the river in a single, unbroken forty minute take. It is a technically accomplished bit of filmmaking, but it really works because Dangmai and the surrounding lush, verdant mountains are so wildly cinematic.

Yes, it looks great, but Chen Yongzhong’s scrupulously restrained performance is surprisingly powerful, in a hushed kind of way. He completely convinces us this is a man with an unresolved past. Though she only appears briefly, Liu Linyan is exquisitely arresting and vulnerable as the woman resembling Zhang Xi. Guo Yue is also terrific as Yangyang, subtly conveying her dissatisfaction and uncertainty for the future.

In most respects, Blues is a decidedly nonpolitical film, but occasional references to the disappearing Miao culture (that of the ethnic minority to which Bi belongs) peek through here and there. This is absolutely not a film for those who hold conventional tastes. Frankly, Bi does not want their patronage, so he is not about to compromise for their sake. The results can be glacial at times, but Wang Tianxing’s cinematography is lovely to look at and there is a real emotional center to it all. Recommended for admirers of slow cinema, Kaili Blues screens Sunday (9/27) and Wednesday (9/30), as part of this year’s VIFF.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on September 25th, 2015 at 2:24pm.

By Joe Bendel. Tackling a novel previously adapted by the great Kon Ichikawa and the notorious Tinto Brass ought to intimidate most filmmakers. Arguably, Ichikawa was perfectly suited to convey the psychological complexity of Jun’ichirō Tanizaki’s The Key, whereas Brass has a strong handle on its sexual content. Jumping in with both feet where wiser directors might fear to tread, Jefery Levy reconceives it as a dreamlike fantasia, with generous nods to silent era cinema. Prepare yourself for the overload of visual stylization in Levy’s The Key, which screens during the 2015 Hollywood Film Festival.

Despite erroneous online references, Tanizaki did not win the Nobel Prize for literature, but one of the most prestigious Japanese literary awards is named in his honor, so he is still important. To convey the epistolary nature of Tanizaki’s novel, most of the film is relayed through the voice-over narration of a dysfunctional married couple writing in their respective journals. They have basically have one thing on their minds, especially Jack.

It is safe to say Jack is way more into Ida than vice versa. As the film opens, Jack resents her frigidity, even while reproaching himself for being an inadequate lover. Ida largely confirms his unsatisfactory skills, but claims to have mixed feelings about him overall. After all, they live in opulent splendor, nestled in the Hollywood Hills. They also have a grown daughter who still lives on the estate, resenting Jack for being weak and her mother for being more beautiful than her.

Knowing they both keep diaries, Jack and Ida each deliberately write assuming the other reading, while making a show of not stooping to such an invasive low themselves—or so they claim. Exploiting Ida’s fondness for wine, Jack starts regularly exploiting her during the stupors he encourages, yet he half-suspects she might actually be conscious and passing judgement the entire time. To indulge his emotional masochism, he also pushes her into having an affair with his young assistant Kim (a dude, whose name is derived from Kimura).

If you enjoy deliberate over-exposure, faux distressed film stock, and the juxtaposition of color and black-and-white cinematography, than The Key just might be your aesthetic ideal. However, if you would prefer a smooth viewing experience, The Key will drive you to distraction with its never ending trick bag of visual distortions and pretentiously arty camera angles. Levy and cinematographer William MacCollum are not exactly Orson Welles and Gregg Toland, but there is something tragically compelling about their over-reaching ambition.

Sadly, Levy takes Tanizaki’s celebrated novel and turns it into purple prose. Still, somehow David Arquette and Bai Ling deliver their narration with level voices, in all scrupulous earnestness. Frankly, Ling has some surprisingly potent moments, giving a hint of what she might have done had better roles been available when she first made a name for herself. She also has absolutely no fear or self-consciousness when it comes to playing Ida’s more physically and psychologically revealing sequences. In contrast, the awkward Arquette never looks right as the dissipated Jack, sticking out like Deputy Dewey in his straight dramatic scenes.

The Key could be considered the Calvin Klein commercial Guy Maddin never made. It fancies itself an avant-garde exploration of sexuality and codependency, but it has the maturity of Verhoeven’s Showgirls. Almost worth seeing just to confirm it exists, The Key screens this Sunday (9/27), as part of this year’s Hollywood Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: D

Posted on September 25th, 2015 at 2:23pm.

By Joe Bendel. Who would have known a pagan Irish ghost could carry such a grudge? Annie Sawquin was done wrong during the days of Old New York, so her vengeful spirit is not about to let Lower Manhattan off the hook centuries later. Frankly, she has a right to feel put-out. Unfortunately, every year on Halloween, the specter takes out her frustrations on three innocent children. Mike Lawford’s son Charlie was taken last year, but he hasn’t given up hope of finding him. At least as a tenured professor he will have plenty of time to look in Uli Edel’s Pay the Ghost, which opens this Friday.

In his quest for said tenure, Lawford somewhat neglected his wife Kristen and son, so when the good news comes on October 31st, the newly secured faculty member takes Charlie out to celebrate at the annual Halloween carnival. It is rather conveniently located, since like most struggling academics, the Lawfords own a brownstone in Greenwich Village. Unbeknownst to Lawford, Charlie has been acting strange for the last few days, because he has been targeted by uncanny forces.

One minute Charlie is there, the next he’s gone. It is hard to explain that to his wife, who openly blames Lawford for their son’s disappearance. Yet, as they approach the one year anniversary, both parents have strange supernatural experiences that suggest Charlie is reaching out for their help. Soon, she even starts to forgive Lawford, in light of all the macabre bedlam they encounter. Enlisting the help of Hannah, Lawford’s colleague and mentor, they trace back a series of historical and folkloric clues to Sawquin, a Celtic Pagan, who was scapegoated for a plague sweeping through early Colonial New York. Lawford just might be able to rescue his son, but he has a limited window. Once Halloween is over, the die is cast and last year’s victims will be consigned to the other side forever.

Believe it or not, even though Ghost represents a collaboration between Nic Cage and the director of the infamous Madonna vehicle Body of Evidence, it really isn’t that bad. Apparently, Edel discovered the magic word that convinced Cage to turn down the mania. Maybe it was “IRS.” Regardless, he indulges in minimal nostril-flaring throughout what is arguably his most restrained performance in years.

Sarah Wayne Callies from the Walking Dead is passable enough as Kristin, but it is not what you would call a showcase role for her. As Det. Reynolds, Lyriq Bent does not have much to either, except defend the honor of New York civil servants, but he wears the part well after playing the cop in all those Saw movies. However, Veronica Ferres (known for films like Saviors in the Night and Adam Resurrected, who must have been confused to find herself in an upstart genre movie like this) adds some much appreciated class and seasoning.

Edel maintains an atmosphere of foreboding and nicely capitalizes on the Lower Manhattan-looking locales (courtesy of Toronto). Screenwriter Dan Kay’s adaptation of Tim Lebbon’s novella also accentuates the intriguing backstory and old world details. It all hangs together quite cohesively until quite late in the third act, which is downright impressive by horror movie industry standards. Recommended for horror fans looking for something with a Halloween theme, Pay the Ghost releases on iTunes and opens in select markets this Friday (9/25).

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on September 23rd, 2015 at 11:35pm.

By Joe Bendel. This horror show of family is brought to you by the daughter of a legend of horror cinema. Asia Argento’s father Dario is probably the best known master of the Giallo genre. Young Aria (Asia Argento’s legally registered name at the time of her birth) is the daughter of a romantic leading man actor and a musician, but it is hard not to draw parallels. Both even have famous composer grandfathers. However, one can only hope Aria’s life is entirely fictional, because it is the sort of chaotic mess that could generate a lifetime’s worth of baggage. Growing up is darned near impossible for the protagonist of Argento’s Misunderstood, which opens this Friday in New York.

Aria is the one common child shared her recently divorced parents, but she has a step-sister with each of the exes. Her relationships with all four are rather complicated, because it is clear she is the favorite of neither parent. Aria primarily lives with her mother and the rather dreary Donatina, until the temperamental Swiss pianist loses patience with her daughter and packs her off unannounced to her father. According to the regular pattern, the shallow, self-absorbed actor will let her stay with him and the noxiously manipulative Lucrezia for a few days, before sending her back.

For days at a time, Aria will ping pong back and forth. Some nights she will even sleep on the street. However, these might be the happiest interludes in the film, because she falls in with a free-spirited group of bohemians colonizing the local park. She probably should have stayed with them, but like everyone else in the film, Aria is keenly aware of social standing. Her parents might be a train wreck, but they give her serious cred at school. Yet, it is never enough to turn the head of the thuggish kid she crushes on.

If Argento had cranked up the family’s horribleness just a fraction further, Misunderstood could have veered into campy horror. Instead, she keeps the tone grounded and the lunacy relatively restrained. As a result, Aria’s life is just plain emotionally harrowing. She is the ultimate poor little rich kid, whose dysfunctional parents are total monsters precisely because they are so human. They really could exist.

Charlotte Gainsbourg and Italian television star Gabriel Garko are so pitch-perfect as the narcissistic parents, it is truly frightening. Yet, the true revelation is Giulia Salerno as Aria. She covers an unusually wide range as the smart but impetuous nine year-old, dealing with just about every form of family angst under the sun. Yet, she always keeps it grounded and real, even when everyone else around her is going bat-scat crazy. She is remarkable, as is Alice Pea as Angelica, her inevitably estranged best friend forever.

Misunderstood is an absolutely exhausting film, but it is not without dark humor. However, most of the laughs come from a recognition of how Argento keeps relentlessly one-upping the outrageous behavior, without ever taking things over the top. It might just feature the best performance from a young screen thesp since Josie Xu’s star-making turn in Starry, Starry Night. Recommended for those who appreciate extreme family dramas, Misunderstood opens this Friday (9/25) in New York, at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on September 23rd, 2015 at 11:34pm.