FEATURES
1. Rosa de Areia / Desert Rose (Margarida Cordeiro & António Reis, 1989)
“I would like to be truly multiple. I would like to be a mother... infinitely. I... I’m still alive. But... I’m a dead soul already. I do not exist. Fragile thoughts dance in me.”
Employing literary excerpts (Kafka, Montaigne, Atharvaveda, Zen stories) as ciphers, Cordeiro and Reis weave an abstract story which portrays the invisible / intangible between the myth and history, arcane truths and primordial urges, personal narratives and universal themes on the grounds of Trás-os-Montes region in the northeast of Portugal. Breathtaking highlands become a playground for melancholic spirits whose rituals, in all of their peculiarities, are captured in lasting moments of sublime (visual) lyricism, leaving you stunned by their simple, yet mystifying beauty, further elevated by the rhapsody of nature’s voices. Desert Rose is a lucid dream defying to be interpreted, and reduced to words...
Recommended for the fans of Antouanetta Angelidi, (early) João César Monteiro and Sergei Parajanov.
2. La Terra Trema / The Earth Trembles (Luchino Visconti, 1948)
“Your nice proverbs don’t work anymore.”
And almost eighty years later, many proverbs have been completely stripped off their relevance, along with the society’s steadfast decay into cruelty, portended by the (sleazy) characters of wholesalers. A harrowing chronicle of a poor fisherman’s family, Visconti’s sophomore feature (and my second encounter with the filmmaker) teems with the rawness of everyday life, elegantly and poignantly captured in expressive B&W. Featuring exclusively non-professional cast – collectively credited as ‘Sicilian Fishermen’ – this social(ist) drama strikes you with its masterly guided naturalness, as a number of protagonists demonstrate outstanding thespian skills. It effortlessly elicits the viewer’s empathy, all the while keeping you at a slight distance, and without slipping into didacticism, it compassionately explores the themes of poverty and greed through both personal and economic struggle of common folk. The village of Aci Trezza where the story is set invites you with its stone walls and narrow streets, notwithstanding the harshness that rules there...
3. Αναπαράσταση / The Reconstruction (Theodoros Angelopoulos, 1970)
The most accessible of Angelopoulos’ works I’ve seen so far, and arguably, one of the finest debuts ever made, The Reconstruction is a formally astounding piece of cinema. Stunningly shot in high-contrast black and white, its deep shadows externalizing the antagonists’ inner darkness, this crime drama plays out like an insightful character (and social) study set against the backdrop of a dying village. Events surrounding the murder of an expat by his wife and her lover are structured in a non-linear fashion, framed not only with a keen eye, but also with a strong intent of digging deeper than the motives, and reconstructing more than the misdeed itself. Helmed with an unwavering hand, and with director’s focus pulled towards the (striking) imagery, rather than (sparse and concise) dialogue, the film rests on the tradition of classic Greek tragedy, anticipating the features of Béla Tarr and György Fehér, although rain makes both mud and poetry here...
4. Witte Wieven / Heresy (Didier Konings, 2024)
Made for Dutch television, as a part of a horror series presented by Martin Koolhoven (Brimstone), Heresy marks a highly promising directorial feature for Didier Konings who has so far worked as a concept artist on a number of Hollywood productions, from Stranger Things to Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn). Its grim, medieval tale of a barren woman gradually ostracized by her religiously patriarchal community bears certain similarities with The VVitch, particularly in the mood, but unlike Eggers’ implicit, deliberately paced film, this hour-long offering doesn’t shy away from showing the actual and at times quite gory goings-on in a misty forest where mythological Witte Wieven (lit. White Ladies) reside. Briskly paced, with not a single shot wasted (well, maybe apart from a few nocturnal frames that could’ve been less obscure), it pulls you into its oppressive, claustrophobic setting primarily by virtue of its heroine Frieda (Anneke Sluiters in a nuanced performance, somewhat evoking Sissy Spacek’s Carrie, and transforming from a vulnerable devotee to resistant proto-feminist to screaming banshee) who poses as both the emotional core, and the link to modern times, i.e. the burning issue of bodily autonomy. One can really feel her suffering that’s largely imposed on her by the toxic trinity of her condemning (and likely, impotent) husband, Hikko (Len Leo Vincent), the village’s condescending pastor Bartholomeus (Reinout Bussemaker), and a lascivious butcher, Gelo (Léon van Waas), whose attempted rape is punished in a gruesome way that evaporates the boundaries between a tree, human flesh and sculpture (kudos to the practical effects artists). And there’s a lot more to appreciate here (and wonder how they pulled it on a modest budget), from a Toro-esque monster and excellent production design to eerily beautiful cinematography and phantasmal score that will surely get your inner goth going.
5. Harvest (Athina Rachel Tsangari, 2024)
“Good grief, this film looks stunning!” – I frequently repeated to myself, immersed in Sean Price Williams’ 16mm framing, whether it evoked Breugelian peasant scenes, the pagan ways of Hardy’s The Wicker Man, Malick’s pastoral poetry, or German’s mud-smudged visions from Hard to Be a God. Equally impressed by the contributions of Kirsty Halliday and Nathan Parker for, respectively, their costume and production designs, I felt as if I traveled back to the unspecified time (probably during Highland Clearances) and place (unnamed village somewhere in Scotland), navigating the medieval-like setting as if in a lucid (fever) dream. Both archaic and anachronistic, Harvest struck me as simultaneously surreal and down-to-earth, its blend of historical fiction and modern sentiment playing out like a tale of a (deceitful) paradise lost, imbued with a hard knock at xenophobia, parochial attitude, and evils of capitalism. Tsangari directed the feature with a deliberate pace and keen sense of world building (and its demolishing), her knack for weirdness ever-present yet restrained, eliciting excellent performances from the ensemble cast headed by Caleb Landry Jones as the narrator and decidedly passive hero.
6. Bramayugam (Rahul Sadasivan, 2024)
“Those in power take pleasure in toying with the freedom of others.”
“Those in power take pleasure in toying with the freedom of others.”
The one in power here is Kodumon Potti – the creepy, mysterious owner of a dilapidated mansion secluded in the forest – portrayed with a diabolical bravura by veteran actor Mammootty whose five decades-long experience marks every nuance of his performance. At once opposing and complementing his commanding presence are Arjun Ashokan as Thevan, a singer of Paanan caste who stumbles upon the house while on the run from slavery, and Sidharth Bharathan as the unnamed servant burdened by his master’s dark secrets, both playing their roles with aplomb. The minimal cast and claustrophobic location, as well as muddy and silvery B&W imagery have earned comparisons to The Lighthouse, though Sadasivan’s folk/psychological horror is a different sort of nightmare, one that explores entrapment, not only physical, but also spiritual, and even metaphysical, in the repeating cycle of evil. Admirably aligned with the central theme is the sweaty, densely oppressive, and subtly eerie atmosphere that is achieved through deliberate pace (paying off with a feverish confrontation), superb sound design, and phantasmal score. Bramayugam isn’t without its share of flaws (such as expository bits), nor is it a revolutionary addition to the genre, but most of its drawbacks fade in comparison to its many qualities.
7. Born in Flames (Lizzie Borden, 1983)
“We still see the depression from the oppression that still exists, both day and night. For we are the children of the light and we will continue to fight. Not against the flesh and blood, but against the system that names itself falsely...”
Set in a dystopia rising behind the facade of ‘socialist democracy’, Born in Flames has to be one of the most revolt-inspiring films ever made. Politically conscious in its raw, pamphletic poetry, and, at the present moment, alarmingly relevant, it is directed with a punk attitude and sense of urgency for justice, primarily gender, but racial, social and sexual as well. Its themes – filtered through the actions of a radical feminist group dubbed Women’s Army – sit pretty well with the grungy 16mm cinematography, abrasive soundtrack, and unaffected, cinéma vérité-like performances from a largely non-professional cast, with the acclaimed filmmaker Kathryn Bigelow making her big-screen debut in a supporting role.
8. I fidanzati / The Fiancés (Ermanno Olmi, 1963)
A meeting point between neorealist and modernist cinema, The Fiancés recounts the hardships of a factory welder, Giovanni, as well as the long-distance relationship with his estranged fiancée, Liliana, reflecting on loneliness, longing, and confusion brought upon a man by a new environment and a rapidly changing world. Pervaded by an intense sense of melancholy which is beautifully translated into deep, tenebrous shadows of Lamberto Caimi’s mesmerizing cinematography, this is a rather somber affair, but one with the lyrical heart beating under its dry, grimy skin. Under Olmi’s taut direction, Carlo Cabrini and Anna Canzi – both in their big screen debuts – give understated performances, adding to the film’s stern naturalness, with editor Carla Colombo doing an excellent job of capturing the protagonist’s mental state, and his revitalized love towards the (deliberately abrupt) conclusion, thoughtfully utilizing flashbacks and intimate montages.
9. Earth Girls Are Easy (Julien Temple, 1988)
Two years after Cronenberg’s masterwork The Fly, Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum (then married) are partnered on screen once again, this time as an interspecies couple in a cartoonishly campy, entertainingly silly, and wittingly sexy blend of sci-fi, rom-com and musical effervescently helmed by music video director Julien Temple. Initially covered in blue fur, Goldblum portrays Mac, a captain of a plastic toy-like spaceship from the Jhazalla planet, with Jim Carrey and Damon Wyans buffooning their way into the roles of his horny crewmen, Wiploc and Zeebo. Luckily, they crash into the pool of a handsome manicurist, Valerie (Davis), who works at an LA beauty parlor, so their transformation into human party dudes is made possible in no time, but their adjustment to the third rock from the Sun isn’t without its havoc-ensuing challenges. As lively and garish as an 80’s film gets, Earth Girls Are Easy is an uplifting piece of low-brow cinema that’s anchored in its spot on cast, flamboyant visuals and poppy soundtrack, serving stereotypes with a tongue-in-cheek attitude.
10. Mirrors (Harry Winder, 1985)
Big dreams in the Big Apple, under the heavy weight of unsparing reality. A Detroit-born ballerina, Karin (Marguerite Hickey), suffering from diabetes, struggles to navigate both personal and professional life in a tight-knit community of dancers. Ad astra, many are the difficulties she’ll have to face, even after the credits start rolling, and yet, Winder tells her familiar (and relatable) story in a way that feels strangely unburdening, as if the world of pointe shoes, strenuous rehearsals, and somewhat humiliating Broadway auditions exists independently... almost. He provides the viewer with the bittersweet experience – probably romanticized to a certain extent, but who cares – of being young and aspiring in New York of the time, surrounded by people supportive and caring of each other. Making the most of a TV production, he delivers a feature of down-to-earth beauty, its fortes lying in Paul Rubell’s tight editing, handsome lensing by Fred Murphy (The Scenic Route, The State of Things), and Graciela Daniele’s superb choreographies one of which is imbued with subtle eroticism, doubling as a sex scene.
11. Body Rock (Marcelo Epstein, 1984)
Sometimes, stress and anxiety relief emerges from a most unexpected place, such as a Breakdance musical in which Lorenzo Lamas (later, of Renegade fame) moonwalks into the role of a street artist, Chilly, whose mother is a blonde-wigged cameo of Grace Zabriskie, and whose success on a local clubbing scene comes with a price that is a forced kiss from Joseph Whipp (Sgt. Parker in A Nightmare on Elm Street) as a big shot, Donald, on a dance-floor of a gay bar. The film is so silly, it’s borderline brilliant – a sparkling time capsule of the 80’s that marries impressive breakneck choreography to superb cinematography from none other than THE Robby Müller – yes, the man who shot Wenders’ masterpiece Paris, Texas in the same year. It is a non-stop barrage of catchy pop tunes – one of which is performed by Lamas himself (!) – that accompany the viewer on a nostalgic, neon-lit, rainbow-colored joyride helmed by music video and one-feature-only director Marcelo Epstein, his tongue deeply planted in the cheek.
SHORTS
Syntagma (Valie Export, 1983)
An exploration of (women’s) body, (moving) image and their correlation in disjointed time and fragmented space, Syntagma is a prime example of employing a wide variety of techniques – negatives, split screens, photographic prints, projections on flipping book pages, etc – to conceive the most suitable visual language in addressing the subject matter. The simplest of actions, such as descending the stairs or walking across the room, are transformed into substantial parts of an artistic / ritualistic performance turned into a formally and conceptually inspired piece of cinema, one which would certainly feel like a field day for feminists and film theorists.
Szél / Wind (Marcell Iványi, 1996)
Evoking the work of Miklós Jancsó, Wind is a one long take short that poses as a speculation on a story behind a 1951 B&W photo, Three Women, taken by Lucien Herve. Beautifully capturing the transition between life and death, Iványi's film is more than a mere student exercise, its Cannes accolade serving as a proof.
