‘Mami Wata’ is, hands down, one of the most stunning films created on the African soil. Deeply rooted in legends of the titular sea goddess, it keeps you glued to the screen, in the state of wide-eyed wonder. Its remote, exotic world is gorgeously captured by Lílis Soares whose breathtaking, high-contrast cinematography corresponds with dichotomies that underpin the story, familiar yet poetic. As the ebony shadows, pearly grays, and foamy lights feast your eyes, Obasi manages to establish a connection with your primordial self, as he, inter alia, examines the pros and cons of traditional values conflicted with the unstoppable modernization. Eliciting intense performances from his cast, with an assured hand and clear vision he leads the viewer to an oneiric conclusion that justifies the ‘fantasy’ label, and leaves you mystified...
The dark presence of the film’s antagonist, one Red Lynch (a sinister bravura by Ross Martin), looms over a bank clerk, Kelly Sherwood (Lee Remick, whose very presence is astounding!), and her younger sister Toby (a fine supporting role by Stefanie Powers) in what appears like a prototype noir thriller / police procedural for a plethora of subsequent Hollywood flicks. Blake Edwards – best known for the Sellers-starring ‘Pink Panther’ series, and ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ – directs with a keen sense of cinematic storytelling and Hitchcockian suspense, assisted by Philip H. Lathrop’s immersive, shadow-infested cinematography, as well as by Henry Mancini’s haunting score that is pregnant with mystery. There is something slightly proto-Lynchian about the dense atmosphere, and not only because of the ‘Twin Peaks’ sign our heroine drives past by in the opening sequence...
Tautly directed and superbly acted. Aurally, visually and emotionally striking crime drama that hasn’t lost any of its relevance.
A co-production of Saudi Arabia, UAE, Jordan and Iraq, ‘Scales’ marks a commendable feature debut for writer-director Shahad Ameen who translates her own experience of growing up in a men-dominated society into a dark fairy tale. The story of a 12-yo girl, Hayat (Basima Hajjar), is set in a fishing village on a remote, unnamed island with a horrifying tradition of offering first-born daughters to the sea, and is told largely through images, with dialogues reduced to a bare minimum. The harmonious marriage of gripping B&W cinematography by João Ribeiro with the hauntingly elegiac score by Fabien and Mike Kourtzer creates a dense atmosphere of mystery, partly embodied by mermaids. They also represent one side of Hayat’s inner conflict that burns at the very core of Ameen’s narrative which, according to one of her interviews, has no antagonists, with both women and men turned into the victims of a cruel custom...
Frequently bathed in red lights in accordance with the brothel setting, Eros tangos with Thanatos in Leonard (older brother of Paul) Schrader’s first and only directorial effort – a high-camp homage to the roaring 20’s, with a baroque style to die for! The film’s lavish production design and noirish cinematography are so captivating that one can easily forgive almost every bit of corniness in an incredibly sexy blend of romantic melodrama and gangster flick that sees Mathilda May turned into a Louise Brooks look-alike, with Vincent D’Onofrio portraying her Valentino. The love-hate, dirty-dancing affair of their characters – a young woman escaping one prison just to end up in another, and a suave, sleazily charming ‘tango king’ killer – gives soap operas a good run for their money. The final shot is the epitome of cinematic artifice.
In her adaptation of Francine Prose’s novel of the same name, Nancy Savoca skillfully balances between the mundane and the miraculous, weaving a bittersweet tale of three generations of women in Little Italy of NYC. Born in a family of Argentinian and Sicilian immigrants, she creates authentic characters, and elicits captivating performances from her cast, the standouts being Judith Malina, Tracey Ullman, Lily Taylor and Vincent D’Onofrio. Gently lacing the story with a delicious sense of humor, and imbuing it with elements of magic realism, she examines the interconnectedness of tradition and modernity, superstition and common sense, mysticism and scepticism, her approach to all the themes marked by open-mindedness. And although her narrative grip is somewhat loosened in the second half, the film never loses its charm or runs out of surprises, one of which involves ‘stigmata dripping blood on the carpet’ during the intense ironing of a red and white checkered shirt...
A formally whimsical meditation on the nature of cinema, id est dreams and their multiple realities, depicted through the prism of an ecologically conscious coming-of-age story which is seasoned with a pinch (or two) of wry, deadpan humor, and continually implodes into its subliminal spaces under the pressure of isolation.
A meticulous, formally gripping exploration of the voyeuristic nature of cinema, ‘Hidden’ plays out like a layered, subtly sadistic, and decidedly metafilmic subversion of the thriller genre, with the victim gradually transforming into the victimizer, and the curtains of bourgeois normality lifting to reveal its pathologies. The viewer is both the voyeur and the one being watched by the film itself, which creates a tangible ‘hauteur’ or rather, discomfort as one desperately expects the big reveal that remains both hidden and glaringly obvious. Haneke’s psychologically intricate (and politically charged) game finds its anchor in exquisite performances, not only from the leading duo of Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil, as the austere aesthetics uphold the cruel, post-colonialist reality.
Fraught with tension – emotional, sexual and psychological, Freeman and Ping’s provocative feature debut erases the boundary between overt homophobia and latent homosexuality, playing out like a simmering blend of nuanced character study and steamy erotic thriller in which the revenge for a hate crime is served with a feeling... and exchange of bodily fluids. The film’s greatest forte lies in believable performances and incredible chemistry of Nathan Stewart-Jarrett and George MacKay whose protagonists – as contradictory as human beings tend to be – slip between inviolability and vulnerability / confusion and certainty within the shifty balance of the ‘cat and mouse’ dynamics, as their tumultuous inner states are externalized through the expressive lighting and color schemes of James Rhodes’s handsome cinematography.
The withering feeling of being lost, useless and incapable of taking control over one’s own life permeates virtually every frame of Matjaž Klopčič’s challenging feature debut – a decidedly plotless road-movie which amalgamates Antonioni-esque alienation and longing with surrealist meanderings comparable to the Czech New Wave. Revolving around a provincial worker, Vuk (excellent Lojze Rozman), ‘Non-existing Story’ aka ‘On the Run’ epitomizes bleakness in its stream-of-conscious (non)narrative, and often unexpected cuts, as well as in a multitude of close-ups capturing incurable melancholy. Emphasizing the dense atmosphere of despair in expressing innermost self is the starkly beautiful B&W cinematography (Rudi Vaupotič) perfectly matched to Jože Privšek’s jazzy, subtly expressive score.
Jean Luc Herbulot of ‘Saloum’ fame once again plunges the viewer into the murky waters of demimonde, his hero Frank – played with a tired-eyed, hang-dog stoicism by Didier ‘JoeyStarr’ Morville – facing the demons of his hired gun career. Armed with a sharp sense of pacing, he approaches the pulpy, comic-like material with a straight-faced resolve, delivering a simplistic, yet effective road-movie-ish thriller whose supernatural spices add a trip-inducing flavor. His genre-b(l)ending may not be the epitome of inventiveness, but his protagonist’s guilt-ridden ride provides a surprisingly refreshing experience, backed up by moody lighting of Hugo Brilmaker’s neo-noir cinematography, Pierre Nesi’s unobtrusively propulsive beats subtly intertwined with some classic pieces, and Asia Argento embodying the feisty spirit of Eurotrash cinema in the supporting role of Frank’s lover Anna.
A gorgeous confluence of glowing lights, silvery grays and funereal shadows makes Taichi Kimura’s feature debut a sheer delight to look at, with an eclectic score – at turns gently evocative and dissonantly foreboding – elevating the viewing experience, even when the narrative loses momentum. Unfolding in an unhurried pace, the story revolves around a grieving taxi driver, Akira Morishima (a superb turn from Kentez Asaka), who’s gradually losing his grip on reality, transforming ‘from a relatable everyman to a ticking time bomb ready to explode’ (Sean Barry, Asian Movie Pulse). Inebriated with (deceptive) memories of his dead singer wife, and obsessed by another woman who is the spitting image of his Sayuri, Akira leads us through the (surrealistic) labyrinth of his troubled mind that finds its embodiment in the streets of Tokyo – treated as a character in its own right. Breaking no new ground in the domain of psychological dramas, ‘Afterglows’ is nevertheless a commendable effort – a solid stepping stone for whatever Kimura has in store next.
A gorgeous confluence of glowing lights, silvery grays and funereal shadows makes Taichi Kimura’s feature debut a sheer delight to look at, with an eclectic score – at turns gently evocative and dissonantly foreboding – elevating the viewing experience, even when the narrative loses momentum. Unfolding in an unhurried pace, the story revolves around a grieving taxi driver, Akira Morishima (a superb turn from Kentez Asaka), who’s gradually losing his grip on reality, transforming ‘from a relatable everyman to a ticking time bomb ready to explode’ (Sean Barry, Asian Movie Pulse). Inebriated with (deceptive) memories of his dead singer wife, and obsessed by another woman who is the spitting image of his Sayuri, Akira leads us through the (surrealistic) labyrinth of his troubled mind that finds its embodiment in the streets of Tokyo – treated as a character in its own right. Breaking no new ground in the domain of psychological dramas, ‘Afterglows’ is nevertheless a commendable effort – a solid stepping stone for whatever Kimura has in store next.
In his big screen debut, 33-yo Yorgos Tsiantoulas gives quite an uninhibited performance, baring both his body and – in a much subtler way – soul as an actor turned public servant, Demosthenes, keen on rekindling a creative collaboration with his best friend, Nikitas (Andreas Labropoulos, excellent). On nudist / cruising rocks of Athens, the duo revives the memories of a recent summer when Demosthenes adopted the adorable titular pup – the embodiment of his emotional insecurities, and plans to turn them into Nikitas’s first feature which Mavroeidis craftily employs as the basis of his own meta-dramedy. Audaciously queer, ‘The Summer with Carmen’ is neither laugh-out-loud funny, not deeply poignant, but it feels like striking the right cords in its bold portrayal of gay relationships – platonic, sexual and romantic, making the most of its quirky nature, beautiful shooting locations, and Tsiantoulas’s Herculean physicality.
Discovered in the garage of silent movie star Buster Keaton, and colorized in 2006, under the supervision of stop-motion wiz Ray Harryhausen, as a tribute to producer Merian C. Cooper (King Kong, 1933), ‘She’ is a flawed, yet highly enjoyable piece of pulp cinema, boasting a sweeping score, exquisite Art Deco sets, and gorgeous costumes worn by Helen Gahagan whose elegantly commanding performance inspired Evil Queen of Disney’s 1937 classic ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’. A somewhat campy combination of romance, adventure and fantasy, it is simultaneously epic, melodramatic, and almost childlike in its transparency, with Van Nest Polglase’s striking art direction being its greatest forte.
In his sophomore feature, Damian Mc Carthy (Caveat) decidedly swims against the ‘elevated horror’ stream, in favor of delivering some old-fashioned hair-raising thrills. His story – involving everything from ghosts to home invaders to a wooden Golem – may be excessively tropey, but it works like a haunted charm, largely by virtue of dense, claustrophobic atmosphere established through beautiful cinematography, expert editing, and eerie score. The setting limitations are compensated with the exquisite production design, particularly of a country house interior that is an admirable compromise between modern austerity and retro chic warmth, operating as a battleground where human evil meets vengeful spirits. Also clashing – occasionally with hints of ironic humor – are the characters’ disparate attitudes towards the supernatural, with Carolyn Bracken sympathetically prickly in the role of a blind psychic, and Gwilym Lee sneering as her sceptical psychiatrist brother-in-law. Although no new ground is broken, ‘Oddity’ firmly stands as one of the most effective Irish offerings to the genre.
If you’re a modern dance aficionado, you’ve most probably come across (and been utterly impressed by) some YouTube excerpts of ‘The Seasons’ Canon’. However, it is the full performance that overwhelms with a stunning choreography by Crystal Pite to Max Richter’s electrifying ‘decomposing’ of Vivaldi’s ‘The Four Seasons’, as well as with mesmerizing movements of the dancers (dozens of them!) often synergizing like an otherworldly organism in ecstatic, hyperkinetic and subtly erotic exchange of energies. Also praiseworthy is the team in charge of stage technicalities (lighting in particular!), and the meticulous direction of Cédric Klapisch and Miguel Octave whose cameras capture angles not visible to the audience of Opéra national de Paris where the show was filmed. Masterful!
No comments:
Post a Comment