My 2024 Watchlist Obsession!

It's funny to think now, that there was once a time you could travel so far away as to be beyond reach of family, friends and the society you grew up in. Not only that, but for the the Danish, who laid claim to the vast Icelandic landmass far to their north-west, you could set yourself up on an icy shore far from any other human being, or land-mammal - bar the few you bring with you. For priest Lucas (Elliott Crosset Hove), it doesn't only feel far from the reach of Danish society, but perhaps God himself. He's warned by those higher-ups tasking him with setting up a new church there that the challenges will be immense, and although that sounds like it might be hyperbole when spoken aloud, the experience proves that the effort needed was actually understated. The journey alone will nearly kill Lucas, and will kill at least one of those he travels with. This experience shakes the priest's foundational faith in just about everything, and makes it hard for him to step outside of himself and communicate with his Danish/Icelandic compatriots at the village he arrives at - something patriarch Carl (Jacob Lohmann) interprets as weakness. The one passion Lucas has outside of his faith is his 19th Century camera, but as romance blossoms between him and Carl's daughter Anna (Vic Carmen Sonne) and as he rages against the man who frustrates him the most, Ragnar (Ingvar Eggert Sigurđsson) this priest's lack of focus and the picture-perfect idealism he's lost in this harsh land sees his world spinning out of control, and his morals slipping through his fingers.

Surprisingly, this is one I regret not seeing on the big screen. Cinematographer Maria von Hausswolff won various awards for her work, including the prestigious Bodil - it's shown (and this has become something of a trend) in 4:3 aspect ratio, with the corners of the screen rounded off as if we're looking at old photographs. This is obviously connected to the whole set-up which frames our journey - the story about a cache of wet plate photographs in Iceland taken by a Danish priest in the 19th Century. We see the photographs Lucas takes as the film progresses, and they help emphasise this or that during crucial stages of the emotional peaks in the narrative. It's the Icelandic geography and landscape that sets the scene though - and I swear I've never seen a land with so much beautiful variation and powerful displays of glorious magic and majesty. The great contrast is of course the fact that travelling through this glory of God is completely destroying a priest, who at times can do nothing but curse "Satan" as if the beauty is simple deception, and hides fangs. A great part of the film hinges on what this duality does to Lucas, and how hard this man of God finds the process of adaptation - chafing against language differences and local customs. It's as if this mission has come too late for him, as he's already set in his ways.

It's easy to find God glorious when you're comfortable and happy, and I guess it's easy to see a lion as beautiful when it's not chasing you, or when you're not in it's jaws. What occurs henceforth on this priest's journey is for those who travel with him by watching this movie - one which I thought was really excellent for both those who love visual beauty and those who love drama and deep meaning. It gets quite wrenching once it builds to it's final act and series of climaxes, and is overall one I'd definitely be in the mood for seeing again one day. I tried watching it as a way to distract myself a little from a family tragedy, and while I simply brought that tragedy with me and never forgot it for one second, I still found some solace in the film's beauty - and at times could connect so much more keenly with the pain embroidered into it, because of the way I was feeling personally. I've always liked films from this corner of the world, and remember a time when I looked at quite a few Icelandic films - surprised that such a sparsely populated place could produce an assortment of talented filmmakers. I've seen Hlynur Pálmason's A White, White Day before, and that was quite good as well. Godland doesn't totally rely on it's stunning photography - it has a lot more going for it - but that is one aspect that really sets it apart. I found it ironic that a place of such beauty should have so few witnesses to it's splendour and magnificence, but I guess that's one of the reasons it's kept that beauty intact up until now. God made that place for those who can appreciate what it takes to survive it.

Glad to catch this one - it came so very close to be nominated for a Best International Feature Oscar - made the last 15. Premiered at Cannes, and it also won the Gold Hugo for Best Feature Film at the Chicago Film Festival.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Godland

__________________

Let's get straight down to the nuts and bolts of this - Palm Trees and Power Lines features 34-year-old Tom (Jonathan Tucker) meeting and seducing 17-year-old Lea (Lily McInerny) - taking his time to sweep her off her feet so that the doe-eyed, madly-in-love teenager is completely in his thrall. It all plays out as if this might be some kind of worrisome love story - or at least it would if we couldn't clearly see through Tom's cynical use of lines such as "you're so much more mature than your friends" (Lea clearly isn't) and "were we brought together by fate?" Tom is like an experienced hunter stalking his prey, and gives everything plentiful time instead of rushing anything. He absolutely knows what he's doing. When red flags start popping up all over the place, Lea is quite alarmed, but at the same time wants to believe in all of Tom's explanations and excuses - which he deftly fashions with all the aplomb of a first rate con-man. Is she going to believe some stranger, or the love of her life who treats her like a princess? In the meantime we watch on with growing discomfort as we get closer and closer to that critical moment where Lea becomes completely devoted to this man and the trap slams shut.

Yes - for all those thinking about how they'd feel watching this film, you'll experience a lot of anger, nausea, discomfort and sadness. It's easy to see why being 17 is so difficult for Lea - the film is told from her perspective, and we see in her gaze a desperate need for something more than her mother or other teenagers can give her. Lily McInerny gives something of a breakthrough performance here, strongly conveying her dissatisfaction at first, and then her complete transformation as a girl in love. Her character isn't one-note or annoying at all - she's not a silly ditz, and you can tell that she's intelligent and has a lot of potential. Of course you want to scream loud enough for her to hear you - but at the same time every step she takes closer to Tom is understandable at least. She's as blameless as a character can be under these circumstances, as it's Tom's cunning, patience and good looks which work most every time you'd think when applied to the right 17-year-old girl. It's that fact alone that makes Palm Trees and Power Lines such a maddening, horrifying film. Just to raise a daughter is to lament the predators out there, who have no shame or guilt.

I almost called this movie "a sickly love story" - it's not a love story of course, but the reason I nearly lapse into calling it one is how we see everything from Lea's point of view, so it takes the form of one. That means it's really not easy to watch at all - we have to helplessly witness all of the events, physical and emotional, as everything unfolds. Every time Lea comes face-to-face with reality, you feel your pulse quicken and hope that one revelation or another will enlighten her to the point of salvation. She's smart enough to see the signs - but at the same time completely lost, and sometimes I think our brains aren't wired for the world we confront today. At least this film gets us thinking though. Through it I kept pondering that perhaps there should be a lot more education concerning what we see here - Lea is at first afraid Tom might rape or murder her when he invites her into his car, but isn't alert to men with bad intentions playing the long game and hurting girls that way. Depressingly, we'll probably always have to deal with predators, and with men who exploit young women - destroying lives, and using the wonder of love as a weapon to wield for their own selfish, criminal desires. It's the ending of Palm Trees and Power Lines that really gets you. See it, and you'll see what I mean.

Glad to catch this one - Jamie Dack won the Best Director Award at the Sundance Film Festival for his work here, and brought home several other American and international festival awards to boot.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Palm Trees and Power Lines

Good movie I thought.

__________________
I’m here only on Mondays, Wednesdays & Fridays. That’s why I’m here now.

Have you seen Red Rocket? And if so, how would you say this one compares?

Yeah, I like Red Rocket - that and this film are about as different as you could get tone-wise. Palm Trees and Power Lines isn't as colourful, and is instead very much (100% really) true-to-life and sober. Also, while we basically saw everything from the guy's point of view in RR, here it's the girl's point of view - her family and her friends make up all of the characters in this. We never see any of Tom's life, or meet any of his cohorts. There are no fun moments in Palm Trees and Power Lines - even moments of tomfoolery and laughter have that awful, "we see the whole picture", mood to them, so you could call this "horror" as opposed to Red Rocket's "comedy" if you painted in broad strokes. This one is more subdued and low key as well. Much more uncomfortable - especially when you get to the more visceral parts near the end.

The Eyes of My Mother doesn't want to shock you, despite being an at-times grisly horror movie - it wants you to feel empathy and think about grief. Murder and mutilation can happen between scenes, and Nicolas Pesce is much more determined to make sure we don't miss moments when the loneliness of main character Francisca (Kika Magalhăes) becomes too much to bear - the pangs echoing through her physical body until they make their way to her vocal chords and we hear her desperate cries. At times like these, she'll do something like dig up her mother's skeletal remains and hold them, wash her dead father's naked corpse in the bathtub, or kill again. Those who are familiar with Jeffrey Dahmer might find this character comparable - but I don't want to dig too deeply (no pun intended) into what happens in this film otherwise I might spoil the constant surprises that spring forth from it's off-kilter narrative. Francisca's mother (Diana Agostini) was an eye surgeon, and when she was a little girl her mama used to dissect cow eyes for the curious little girl, showing her how they worked - the parts that the light shone through, making them the so-called "window of the soul". So, when trauma takes it's toll, Francisca brings to bear her own unique interpretation to what a relationship is - much to the misfortune of those who meet her.

After the constant run of two-hour plus movies I've been watching lately, The Eyes of My Mother felt like a thief in the night - here and then gone in 76 minutes which feels so disorienting, especially with the abrupt "middle-of-a-climax" ending it has. It's monochrome visual style lent the movie an aura that's almost feeling too familiar these days - but it does the job of providing a very specific kind of atmosphere, and you can't really complain about that. I can imagine this as a much longer film, showing us the violence that we often only discover has happened while it's being patched up, wrapped for storage in the fridge, tied down, washed or hidden. Perhaps though, it's more of a shock to suddenly be presented with an aftermath. Our imagination has to fill in the gaps then. Then again, the horror of it all really is the uncomfortable question of "what goes on in a girl's mind, when the result is Francisca?" What kind of torment does it take to make a Jeffrey Dahmer? To push those predisposed far enough, the tale must be sad, traumatic and weird. That's The Eyes of My Mother.

So, was this interesting, compelling, frightening, memorable, enjoyable? Yeah - in it's own minimalist way. It's interesting how blurred the lines are here concerning whether Francisca is a victim or assailant - especially considering her isolated environment. As the film comes to it's close you might find yourself shocked to be feeling emotionally protective regarding a character who has done horrendous things - but that's probably because The Eyes of My Mother focuses so much on her trauma and loneliness. The rest is a blur - which does so much to disorient us that we cling on to what we know all the more, that Francisca is drowning in the void. Visually, the whole film feels like a dream, and the film's inerrant but very strange rhythm just emphasizes that effect. The most discomforting feeling regarding a horror film like this is the fact that we know what Francisca does actually happens out in the real world - that her most aberrant modes of behaviour aren't so crazy as to be confined to the screen, even though they're hardly common. But the fact that this is a movie makes it easier to feel pity, and in turn I spent a moment or two thinking about grief and the infinite ways it can manifest itself. Not a bad effect for a movie to have.

Glad to catch this one - it won all of it's awards at the "Fantastic Cinema Festival", so I don't know if money changed hands there or if Nicolas Pesce's brother runs the festival or something.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch The Eyes of My Mother

Gotcha, thanks! I felt like Jonathan Tucker had really fallen off the map for a while. I feel like the last time I saw him was in a random episode of Hannibal.

Okay! Time to get the party started! Who's up for some existential dread? I was once told something alone the lines of "If you're worried about the fact that you're inevitably going to die, then that means you must be alive - and if you're alive you don't have anything to complain about." That statement starts to lose a lot of it's meaning if you're presently about to die though, and that's what She Dies Tomorrow really explores - our grasp of our own mortality when we don't have the comfort of time to placate the alarming concept/inevitability. It does this in a really original, imaginative, and free way - when Amy (Kate Lyn Sheil) calls friend Jane (Jane Adams) in an unusually despondent manner, little does the latter know that Amy is host to a kind of mind virus that is highly contagious. The symptom is an unshakeable belief that the infected person is going to die the next day. Although there's no evidence, those who are experiencing this are absolutely certain, and so they behave almost as if the world is about to end altogether. Their shocking behaviour makes sense only in this context - with all rational thought gone by the wayside they rage against the dying of the light, make the most of all their senses and free themselves from normal societal constraints. What does anything really matter anymore?

She Dies Tomorrow could present it's 'mind virus'/'I'm going to die' premise in a fairly straightforward way I guess, but that's not what Amy Seimetz does. This is a very trippy movie - and it's not long before you realise and/or question if perhaps there's some kind of hallucinogenic substance involved with what's going on with Amy to start with (or at least I did), and I feel comfortable revealing that about the movie, because the answer to the 'is there, or isn't there?' question is so complex and shaded that there's no definitive answer, and also that's absolutely not the point of the movie anyway. The effects of such substances aren't transmittable or transferable, but regardless, the effects do mimic "tripping", and that provides the audience with interesting sights and sounds - instead of being dour the film is a psychedelic ride at times. It's as if the concept of death itself is so far from our normal mode of thinking that it veers our usual thought processes from the way they typically operate. It's true that it's hard to know what it feels like to be on the verge of death - who among us can say they've experienced that? Their perception warped, the characters in this film start behaving in strange ways also - they become more honest, decisive and less inhibited. They also cross moral and legal boundaries without a thought about the consequences.

We live in a world that functions the way it does because we put the thought of the inevitability of our death aside, and distracting ourselves from that reality is the only way we move forward and exist as constructive members of society. That in itself is an interesting topic to base a film around, and so as a concept I really liked Amy Seimetz's movie a lot. The cinematography was really good, and interesting in what it asks us to focus on. All of the performances were good - I especially loved catching up with Jane Adams, who is probably the best of the bunch here. To segue from normality to "I'm going to die" isn't easy, especially when you have to maintain such an unusual mood for your character to be in over the length of time it takes to make a film. Seimetz is a talent, and She Dies Tomorrow a brave, intelligent and authoritative artistic creation. The score, thanks to The Mondo Boys, fits the mood and enhances it. Just don't go in expecting a straightforward narrative that will lead you to answers - this is about our relationship with the fact of our inevitable demise, and not the 'what', 'why' or 'how' of anything. As much as I fear death, intellectual queries surrounding the subject have always excited me - be they songs, books or films. In some ways, it's the most important and revealing subject there is.

Glad to catch this one - Jane Adams ended up being nominated for a Florida Film Critics Circle, Chlotrudis, and Indiana Film Journalists Association Award.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch She Dies Tomorrow

She Dies Tomorrow (thoughts here) is a movie I had to rewatch in part to try and understand. I generally liked it, but it didn't fully click for me.

I much preferred another film from the same director, Sun Don't Shine.

Daniel Isaacson (Timothy Hutton) is trying to make some kind of sense of his life after a traumatic childhood - his parents are based on real-life couple Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, who were executed for espionage after being accused of and tried for providing the U.S.S.R. with top secret information involving, among other things, nuclear weapons. In this film their names are Paul Isaacson (Mandy Patinkin) and Rochelle Isaacson (Lindsay Crouse), and instead of two sons they have Daniel and Susan (Amanda Plummer) who are only children when the couple are arrested and pretty much shafted by the justice system - as Daniel starts to discover as he hunts down everyone involved in the whole saga. He feels compelled because his tortured sister has been hospitalized and is on a downward spiral after attempting suicide. That's the nuts and bolts of Daniel, which switches from "back then" and "now" in twin narratives Godfather Part II-style, showing us how passionate the Isaacson's were about their political convictions, and how traumatized their children are to suddenly find themselves virtually orphaned when police come, ransack their home, and spirit their parents away. It's a heart-rending story.

I can't say that I know all that much about the whole Rosenberg affair, apart from the fact that I hear it might have been the publicity surrounding their trial and execution that encouraged Lee Harvey Oswald to become interested in Marxism, Socialism and the Soviet Union. In any case, from what I can glean reading up on the case, there's little connection between reality and this film, which basically uses the bare facts as a template for this Sidney Lumet drama. It was his follow-up to The Verdict, but ended up as one of his bombs that certainly lacks the prestige of that classic. I liked this though - up to a point. I think it might have been a little uneven in intensity. Timothy Hutton is amazing though, and it's only unfortunate this film wasn't more successful, because it would have shone a light on another top-drawer performance. I absolutely love Amanda Plummer as well - she's a favourite of mine, so to discover that she's in this was like a wonderful surprise. I only wish her part had of been larger. Lumet's partnership with cinematographer Andrzej Bartkowiak was also of great benefit - the energy that protests consist of, and the period urban environments of time periods stretching from the 30s to the Vietnam era are brought to life with very thorough panache.

At it's core this was a really sad story that traces childhood trauma, and it was that which moved me more than the McCarthy era politics being reexamined and flaws in the American justice system probed. Still, it was really interesting and ambitious to combine all of those themes and subjects in this movie, and see two young adults that have been thrust into a world they never chose for themselves - just because of the convictions their parents had, and how that affected the lives of their children. It seemed like Daniel and Susan felt dutybound to continue to fight, simply because their parents died fighting. I certainly didn't think this was a bad movie by any means, and I thought it was terrific up until the last half hour where it seemed to lose a little momentum and focus, having expended so much energy and emotional force. Opinion on the movie is wildly mixed, with it being panned and praised in equal measure - I'll just say that if you have the ability to handle executions, funerals, suicide and kids struggling after losing their parents it's a great movie. Sad, with the potential to make you angry - but in Lumet's hands not depressing at all. Just righteous, up-front and searching - and I'm always up for that.

Glad to catch this one - no awards, the critics didn't like it and the movie bombed. I still liked it though.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Daniel

I went looking for big Pacino performances I might have not seen yet after watching ...And Justice For All, and the only one left now is an obscure 1977 Sydney Pollack film called Bobby Deerfield. Pacino had some kind of early career - for playing Arthur Kirkland in this film he received his 5th Oscar nomination in 7 years. He really goes for it, and the screenplay (written by Valerie Curtin and Barry Levinson) is such that it never feels like shameless Oscar-baiting - this is a great movie that demands an explosive turn from this explosive actor. Justice and the justice system are subjects you can easily get very worked up about - there are many a documentary that make the most of the way injustice can trigger very deep-seated emotional responses. In ...And Justice For All we get to see how lawyer Arthur Kirkland ends up failing clients through no fault of his own - they end up victims of some very arbitrary and nonsensical kinks in the system. A completely innocent man ends up with 5 years in prison, despite the fact that the very judge that sentences him knows he's innocent. Another ends up inside because a parole report is carelessly fudged, and the lawyer substituting for Kirkland lets it slip his mind - sending this man to his doom. These people are usually poor, and of course for the privileged the balances are weighted the other way.

Kirkland ends up having to represent a judge, Henry T. Fleming (John Forsythe), who he hates and is being tried for rape and assault - he has no choice, for if he refuses he'll end up being disbarred because he was once too honest, and informed on a client. Blackmail. Now, I always thought that if an attorney knew a client was guilty, or was committing crimes, he could inform the cops - or remove himself from the case - but I'm no expert in legal ethics. I would have liked to have been a prosecutor though - perhaps in another lifetime. Kirkland is friends with another defense attorney, Jay Porter (Jeffrey Tambor) who loses his mind over the guilt he has from having a client acquitted only for that client to go out and murder again. He's also on good terms with Judge Francis Rayford (Jack Warden) - who is suicidal, and shares a helicopter ride with Kirkland in a memorably comedic rollercoaster segment of the movie. Used in small doses, Pacino's wild and very vocal stylings can be very funny. He's also in a relationship with a legal ethics committee member, Gail Packer (Christine Lahti) - a character he can unload upon to give us a sense of where Kirkland is - still centered when we meet him. He also visits his grandfather, Sam (Lee Strasberg) who raised him, but now has dementia and lives in a home for old people. The film is rich in characters who are extremely well defined. Kirkland's sense of despair over the lack of real justice he sees in the system slowly unravels this man, because he genuinely cares about the people he represents.

There was a nice balance in ...And Justice For All concerning the deadly serious and overpoweringly grave subjects, which are the crimes and various punishments that are explored (not always in equal proportion), and the plate smashing/helicopter crashing antics which act as a release of the terrible tension weighing on the film's characters, and thus sometimes on us. When Pacino smashes the windshield of a fellow lawyer's car, it not only feels cathartic - it's very much deserved (if something you'd advise against in real life.) Every day, the life of real, flesh and blood people are in the hands of Arthur Kirkland. Who'd want to be a defense attorney really? It seems like having human emotions would eventually break you - and having to let go of injustice and not end up in contempt of court would be nearly impossible. Very gritty movie this though - with a lot going on adding substance to the main storyline featuring the judge up for rape and assault, and Kirkland's defense of this cruel and capricious man who deems those he sees as beneath him all deserving of the worst abuses the prison system can dish out. Best of all is the passion unleashed from the red hot Al Pacino - possibly the best in the business at the time. "You're out of order! You're out of order! The whole trial is out of order! They're out of order!"

Glad to catch this one - another Oscar nomination for Pacino, and a Best Original Screenplay nod for Valerie Curtin and Barry Levinson. Pacino was also nominated for a Golden Globe. Dustin Hoffman ended up winning the Oscar and Golden Globe, for his role in Kramer vs. Kramer.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch ...And Justice For All

I sure didn't put many fun comedies in my watchlist for a stretch here - this '73 José Giovanni team-up of two all time greats - Jean Gabin & Alain Delon in their third film together - is a savage critique of the French justice system and capital punishment. A coincidence that the last couple of films I've looked at are 70s movies that examine the administering of justice in the two countries they come from. This one was terrific though, without being as flashy or hysterical as it's Pacino ("You're out of order!") counterpart. Jean Gabin features as Germain Cazeneuve - a social worker who assists prisoners in their parole and life outside prison, recommending releases and finding work for parolees. Alain Delon plays Gino Strabliggi - an ex-bank robber who is determined to go straight, and keep a steady job, despite being hassled by his ex-con crime buddies (one of whom is played by a young Gérard Depardieu) and the detective who nabbed him 10 years earlier, Inspector Goitreau (Michel Bouquet). Gabin narrates as Cazeneuve, his gravelly tone and wise musings creating a really warm atmosphere and trust that we're in the hands of a philosophical sort - somebody who knows what's what, and has a heart. He's seen by cops, prison wardens and lawyers as too soft on crime, and too forgiving of criminals.

I liked that this was a film that contrasts people who focus solely on punishment and revenge, as opposed to those who see the need to reform, and understand why certain crimes are being committed in the first place. It's said directly in this, and a theme that's otherwise in this film's subtext - and once you strip it down to it's essentials it's all about seeing the perpetrator of this or that crime as a human being instead of an animal to be corralled, dragged away and caged. We spend a fair bit of time getting to know Gino Strabliggi, and follow his story through personal tragedies, new relationships and the warm friendship he has with Cazeneuve. It's never hard to like any character Alain Delon plays, as long as he's not a psychopath, and Gino is a nice guy. Jean Gabin exudes a real sadness in his part - as if he's burdened personally with the hardships his clients have to go through. His reason for narrating this story becomes clear once you've seen the whole film - the direction Gino's story goes in takes some sharp turns, and you'll soon realise just how hard it is for any ex-convict to truly turn over a new leaf. The justice system simply won't let you. The punishment is never-ending.

I was really pleased with this film's powerful score from Philippe Sarde - at times I simply had to enjoy it, and I guess while a lot of the time a film's score should support what we're seeing without being noticed, that wasn't the case here - but not in a bad way. Visually, there were a lot of nice touches - great shots, such as when Jean Gabin is walking towards us, absolutely dwarfed by the walls of the prison he's walking beside. Insignificant and powerless when compared with this machinery that grinds people into dust. In the end, the story completely took over and had me staring at the screen - agog. I think that's probably the best thing a film can do - give us a lot to admire visually and sound-wise, along with interesting performances, and then have the narrative completely captivate us once we're completely immersed into the world the movie has built for us. I love Alain Delon and Jean Gabin - two of France's best (and RIP Delon - passing last month). Watching them is always a pleasure, and they definitely elevated Two Men in Town a great deal. Apparently director José Giovanni had been a criminal himself (once sentenced to death), so there's certainly no way to deny his familiarity with this film's subject. I've only seen one of his films previously (The Gypsy) - this one being much more powerful, and very much recommended.

Glad to catch this one - this was remade in 2014, a French/American co-production (this time featuring Forest Whitaker, Harvey Keitel and Ellen Burstyn).




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Two Men in Town

Once old Lingučre Ramatou (Ami Diakhate) drops her bombshell in Senegalese film Hyenas I instantly recognized what I was watching - this was another version of The Visit. The version I'd already seen is a 1964 film featuring Ingrid Bergman and Anthony Quinn, but it was originally a play written by Friedrich Dürrenmatt that premiered in Germany in 1956. Although pretty faithful to it's source material, it also manages to marry itself to the economic disparities that exist in Senegal and Africa itself, along with how double-edged the sword of capitalism inevitably turns out to be. Although Djibril Diop Mambéty never lets us forget the third world status of the village this film is set in - Colobane - all of the haves and have nots are shot with a beautiful kind of dignity, and African culture transforms this into something a little enjoyably different to what I usually see. The place is dusty and desolate, and the store that Dramaan Drameh (Mansour Diouf) runs isn't exactly something most of us can compare to our nearest supermarket. The poor, many of whom come into the shop to sit at a table and drink, all dress themselves with simple burlap sacks - a starting image of poverty from a visual standpoint.

So, it seems Colobane is seeing something of an economic downturn - as we explore, we oversee the entire City Hall being repossessed. When news comes that Lingučre Ramatou (a modern-day African Howard Hughes figure, richer than "the World Bank") is arriving in town it seems everyone's prayers might be answered. Ramatou grew up in Colobane and left in her late teens, going on to make her fortune. To help draft a "welcome home" speech, the Mayor (Mamadou Mahourédia Gueye) seeks out Ramatou's old flame, Dramaan Drameh, and he tells tales of her kindness and charity. When Lingučre Ramatou does arrive though, she tells the gathered townspeople a harrowing tale about a horrifying injustice Dramaan Drameh did to her before she left Colobane, and how it left her broken and forced to become a prostitute. She offers the people of Colobane a deal - she'll give the town $100 billion if they do one thing for her : kill Dramaan Drameh. With this bargain on the table, the wealthy matriarch settles in and watches on, implacable and determined. In the meantime, she buys her goodwill and the population with a near-infinite source of gifts and favours.

It's once you sit back and think that you realise how much of a weapon money can be - and has been when it comes to the wealthy industrialized world and how it's been used against poor third world countries. You can do more with enticements and promises than you can with guns and cannons, and in the process keep yourself from getting blood directly on your hands. This was an interesting parable, and a great use of an existing property in another context. The film is beautiful, and wonderfully shot by Matthias Kälin. Diakhate's Ramatou, with her golden appendages and stern countenance, really sets the scene with her iron presence and ultra-dignified manner - such a joy to watch. Diouf is great - tightly wound as central character Dramaan Drameh (who wouldn't be?). The music is a treat also, with the singing/dancing along with cutaways at times to rhythmic dynamic movement especially entrancing. Hyenas are the motif - skulking and maneuvering, waiting to strike when something tempting is on offer - and we see many cutaways to hyenas in the wild. All added together, it makes up something pretty special, and one of the best African films I've seen - it works as a film of gravity, vision and poetry.

Glad to catch this one - nominated for the Golden Palm Award at the 1992 Cannes Film Festival. Winner of the Special Jury Award at the Chicago International Film Festival.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Hyenas

It's interesting to read this, because just yesterday I watched an extended news clip about the complicated issues around international sanctions and the impact they have on countries and the people in them. It's a really complex topic, but at the same time everyone can agree that financial misery can be leveraged to make people act in immoral ways or against their own interest.

Everything is extremely straightforward in The Driver - you've got your driving expert for hire, played by Ryan O'Neal, and a detective chasing him, played by Bruce Dern. No names - that's just extraneous detail, and as this is a 70s movie directed by Walter Hill, it's easy to point to movies like The Getaway to explain the feel of the film. Action, and forward movement, with our driver and an ally described as "The Player" (Isabelle Adjani) in the credits being careful to stay one step ahead of the various crooks that might double cross them, and the cops that want to nab them in the act of aiding heists and bank robberies. The focus, though, is mainly on the cars, driving, and plentiful chase sequences - grand, epic car chases on the level of the ones we see in films like The French Connection, To Live and Die in L.A., Bullitt and Drive. If you're a fan of big, well-choreographed, destructive car chases then The Driver is essential viewing. If you were just hearing the film from another room, half the movie you'd just be registering tyres screeching, engines revving and police sirens blaring - and you'd be missing the careful storyboarded progression and editing which make these chases work so well.

Ryan O'Neal's fame was at it's height here, and The Driver did nothing to help sustain his success in movies - it was a huge flop. His performance is one of sustained sourness, although I guess you could consider it serious and studied - or mean. The Driver takes on the countenance of someone sick and tired of being double-crossed, hassled by cops, and short-changed. Always one job away from giving it all up. I'd say he made himself look believable though - probably more so than Bruce Dern did. I'm not sure how you could describe the over-the-top narcissism and brash overconfidence you see from his detective. I guess the easiest way would be to imagine if Donald Trump had of become a detective chasing getaway drivers instead of President of the U.S., because he spends more time bragging about how he's great at what he does than he does actually doing his job. The non-stop bragging, bullying and harassing is enough for us to forget that this is actually supposed to be one of the good guys, and side with the guy helping bank robbers get away. The whole point, I know. Adjani's Player doesn't quite get enough time to really register as having a character with personality, but this is a film where even the two leads don't display many traits themselves.

The confidence, the economy with regards to words and expressiveness and focus on forward momentum remind me of Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Samouraď, where Alain Delon played another professional whose persona completely embodied his crime-related occupation. I liked that, and I liked the fact that The Driver in this gives us plenty of action as far as escape is concerned, and also plenty as far as being the hunter goes - desperate not to lose touch with the car that's trying to elude him. There's also a very enjoyable scene where The Driver proves himself by careening around a garage with potential clients (out to set him up) in their car, and he proves his mettle by completely destroying the car they're in while they're in it. Very dynamic. I can't fault much with this film, and if a film is very minimalist at it's core that's just the way it is - I might come away craving more, but that probably just means that car chases and action alone doesn't completely satisfy me personally. I do wonder though, if this would have been a lot better to see on the big screen, because it does seem like that kind of movie.

Glad to catch this one - an influence on much in popular culture, including video games and filmmakers Quentin Tarantino, Nicolas Winding Refn and Edgar Wright .




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch The Driver

Man, ghosts are violent these days. Movie ghosts anyway - or demons if you want to be specific and correct about the lore in Rob Savage's Host. Host is a heady mix of modern technology, superstition and pandemic isolation that creates a steady ratcheting up of pressure until everything explodes into a spectral whirlwind of blood and screams. It uses Zoom and Screenlife filmmaking techniques to have it's cake and eat it too - most of the characters in Host are completely alone, but at the same time connected to all of the other characters. So while they're all interacting, they still maintain that specific vulnerability of not having anyone on hand to help them when bad things happen. Apparently, you can hold a séance online - a virtual séance if you will, and why not? I mean, demons existed in a virtual world long before the internet came along - and can multitask, because doing their stuff in 5 or 6 places at once is not a problem. The movie itself goes for an incredibly lean 54 minutes, which means it's an exceptionally short feature or a pretty long short film. (The Academy officially denotes anything longer than 40 minutes a feature.)

So, how did Host fare with me? A lot of the jump-scares really got me (my cat looks at me as if to say "what is wrong with you tonight dude?" - he's a cozy-up close cat, but hates me crinkling snack packets or jumping at jump-scares.) I wasn't spooked after it though - there wasn't much of a mythology built around this quickie. Just compare it to The Blair Witch Project, which built a very compelling mythology around what it was doing, and you'll see why it doesn't linger in the mind very long. It makes up for that by employing very clever scares and a rollercoaster ride of violence, freaky occurrences and scary-looking spectral ghouls. All of that is effective because Savage gets the timing just right, from casual ease, to concern, relief, worry, more concern, fear, terror then absolute panic and chaos. Just like a good comedian, there's a finger on that pulse that knows exactly when to up the tempo, and push on to the next stage of terrorizing the audience with something horrific after a period of agonizing anxiety. It's a brief rollercoaster ride that forgoes the deep unease of something more heavy, but packs a punch regardless.

How quickly us human beings put the trauma of the past behind us! The pandemic seems such a long time ago now, and it took me a moment or two to reorient myself once I realised that this film's virtual setting were the familiar surroundings of the housebound. Once bad things start to happen, you realise that there's this strange mental condition created when you're experiencing something together as far as the mind is concerned, but you're completely physically distant from each other. It's the agony of being unable to help someone sitting right in front of you, and while watching this my mind flashed back to a case I read about where someone attempted suicide by overdosing while people watched online, unable to help because they didn't know where this person lived or who to call. Then I realised that there's a false sense of security you feel at the start of Host which is like a rug that's pulled from beneath us when everything starts to go wrong - when 6 people connect there's a natural sense of collective safety where in fact there's none. Whatever the malevolent force in Host is, it has all the power, and the characters have nothing but the illusion of company. Scary stuff.

Glad to catch this one - on Rotten Tomatoes the film holds a 98% approval rating based on 98 reviews and Time magazine named it one of "17 Great Movies You May Have Missed This Summer".




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Host

Safe Place is a Croatian film that starts with a young man, Bruno (played by director Juraj Lerotic) saving his brother, Damir (Goran Markovic), who has cut himself in a suicide attempt. It then goes on to deal with the repercussions and repeated attempts by Bruno and his mother Mater (Snjezana Sinovcic) to find help for him, and their attempts to guide him in his increasingly confused and mentally troubled state. The delve into realism this takes really reminded me of The Death of Mr. Lazarescu in form and tone, and while there's slightly less of a bureaucratic nightmare for Bruno and Mater to deal with when helping Damir, mental illness provides it's own trips, challenges and frustrations for family, police and health services. It's one of the toughest things to deal with, because scans, tests and inquiries are not going to provide anyone with a quick, clear and concise picture of what's going on. Decisions dealing with medication, treatment and action at times feel like stabs in the dark, and the question "what should I do?" often plagues Bruno and Mater. In the meantime, the events flow on in a low-key, realistic, day-in-the-life fashion - and at times it almost feels like we're watching a documentary. It feels like we're peering into something intensely personal and at times my anxiety levels went through the roof because I knew this has happened to many people, and still does every day.

There is one moment in Safe Place that takes us out of the reality it sets up, and I have a feeling that Juraj Lerotić went through this experience (or one very similar) personally, and is bending the 4th wall just a little in an almost magical kind of way so he can tell us that. It comes and goes, as a wave of sadness engulfs the proceedings for a moment. I tell you, this is a really moving film, and one in which mental illness feels so accurately portrayed - from a family point of view. I felt that Goran Markovic was utterly fantastic in this, and exuded the aura of a broken person to an almost perfect degree. I'd also highly praise director/star Juraj Lerotić and Snjezana Sinovcic - who I was sure I'd seen in something else, but whose filmography offers up nothing. That's frustrating. She looks a little like Jasna Djuricic in Quo Vadis, Aida? That must be it. In the meantime, I'm guessing police and medical personnel aren't playing themselves, because their rudeness, uncaring attitude and at times baffling decisions don't reflect well on them. I think that's common in many places - mental illness doesn't bring out the best in any nation's services. That even goes for the mental health services themselves sometimes.

So, I was deeply, deeply affected by Safe Place. The familial love on display is so strong, and so well conveyed to the audience in very beautiful ways. It's a soft, quiet, but intense journey whose only hoped-for destination is safety for Damir, who in the meantime harbors an enormous sense of guilt because of the turmoil his illness has caused for the lives of his brother and mother. It's a film I wish everyone would watch - and going by the numbers I see on the IMDb and Letterboxd, not nearly enough people have seen it. It gives such an authentic display of what it feels like to be right up close to mental illness, and that's really something I've so rarely seen on a movie screen. I admire Juraj Lerotić so much for just putting it up there, and I'm happy to see that his film was given the deference it deserved from the Croatian film industry. Amongst the pain and anxiety it finds the beautiful when needed, and also the grey, unrelenting coldness of modern life, and hospitals. It's so good at formulating desperate attempts at communication that continually fail. I really liked this movie a lot and will probably want to see it again one day.

Glad to catch this one - premiered at the 75th Locarno Film Festival, where it won 3 awards, and was selected as the Croatian entry for Best International Feature in submissions to the Academy Awards. Juraj Lerotić won The "Vladimir Nazor Award'' from the Republic of Croatia for outstanding artistic achievements in film.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Safe Place

The Blue Caftan is quietly dignified, and bravely steps out of line with it's country of origin - Morocco - and it's laws, featuring a gay relationship which fully acknowledges love, in it's many different forms. I'll put my hand up and admit - at first I was a little restless and impatient, because this is a film with a thousand little moments which build a foundation up until you can clearly see it's three characters, and how they relate to each other. Mina (Lubna Azabal) and her husband Halim (Saleh Bakri) run a caftan store in Salé - and that doesn't mean buying and selling, it concerns making the intricate, embroidered robes. They're beautiful, and the closest corresponding item to the ornate ones we see here in Western culture is a wedding dress - many of Mina and Halim's clients order special caftans to be made for Moroccan weddings, and we see one used for a funeral as well. They hire an apprentice, Youssef (Ayoub Missioui), and from the start there's sexual tension between the apprentice and Halim, who teaches Youssef the intricate, specialized craft. Touches linger just long enough - and Mina seems to sense this immediately, which creates tension of a different kind between her and Youssef.

Now, you'd expect the relationship between Mina and her husband to be strained - sexually, she's attracted to him and needs that kind of attention. You can tell Halim has to really put in effort to satisfy her - he's not into it. However, The Blue Caftan surprises by revealing a depth of love that goes beyond mere sexual incompatibility, and it opens up a corresponding love story that combines with Halim and Youssef's attraction to each other. Now, I've seen so many films that have been absolutely ruined by actors having no chemistry with each other, but the exact opposite is the case here - Lubna Azabal and Saleh Bakri have an incredible oneness, and one of the most pleasurable aspects of watching this film is seeing their easy, familiar way with each other. It's really beautiful. On the same page, Saleh Bakri and Ayoub Missioui also free themselves enough to really sell the guarded but undeniable attraction they have for each other. I really remember Lubna Azabal from her career-making turn in Incendies, and was very happy to catch up with her again here. Hers is the performance which really cements The Blue Caftan as a film worthy of praise and recommendation.

Like a caftan, this is a film richly and delicately embroidered, combining a forbidden, highly charged love story with a deeply grounded, abiding love which comes from spending a lifetime with somebody. The camera lingers on touch, and it searches for every hint of emotion to be gleaned from the faces of our three characters. It slowly builds until you're absolutely in tune with the joy and pain, and then tightens it's grip on you. There's a definite correspondence between the passion and dedicated effort producing the beautiful garments being made, and the same caring attitude building relationships which have real value and beauty. A lot is made of how long it takes to make a good caftan, and caring enough to put enough into making it beautiful and stunning to look at. Patience is needed though, to see the picture slowly develop here and for it to be carefully deepened and explored. It's a worthwhile journey, seriously mature and carefully composed as if Maryam Touzani is weaving the cinematic equivalent. Events bring our characters into such an intimate proximity that you'll be glad you took the time to get to know them - and took the time to sit and watch The Blue Caftan.

Glad to catch this one - premiered in the Un Certain Regard section at Cannes, and ended up winning the FIPRESCI Prize. It was also Morroco's entry for the Best International Feature Oscar shortlist in 2023.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch The Blue Caftan

I often argue with myself during movies like this. "When is something going to happen? Nothing is happening." Another side of me counters : "Are you kidding? What's happening is happening - life is happening. Does someone have to die for you to be satisfied?" A slice of life drama about a lady, Lizzy (Michelle Williams), making her ceramic art, working at an art and craft college and dealing with her at-times troublesome friends, neighbours and family - this lives or dies depending on how you perceive the characters and empathize with them. Without giving anything away, I was absolutely shocked at how emotional I felt at the end of Showing Up. Something had been building, and building, inside of me, and a lot of credit must go to Kelly Reichardt and Michelle Williams for creating a character so familiar and seemingly wrestled from the real world onto a silver screen. Aloof, yet concerned. Prickly, but caring. Plain, but fascinating and talented as far as her expression goes regarding her creations. When Showing Up opens we're taken through a series of drawings, giving each one enough time to appreciate and admire - there's movement and life in Lizzy's art, hinting that her inside world differs dramatically from her careful, staid, even-toned lack of excitement and colour. It's a great metaphor for this film as a whole.

When we start to explore Lizzy's world, we find that she's one peg down from her neighbour, landlord and fellow artist Jo (a wonderful Hong Chau - an actress I find fascinating). Jo is having a huge exhibition, and is seemingly too busy to fix Lizzy's lack of hot water - despite having enough time to put together a tire swing. This is a raw nerve we'll keep returning to throughout this film - hot water should be an immediate concern, and not a "I'll get to it when I get to it" issue, so not only is Jo a rival and a landlord - she's something of a thorn in Lizzy's side, despite being her friend. An injured bird further complicates this relationship. In the meantime, Lizzy's Mom Jean (Maryann Plunkett), is her boss at the Art College she works at - another relationship with more than one angle to it. She finds herself mothering both her father Bill (Judd Hirsch) and her brother Sean (John Magaro), the latter of whom seems to have some psychological problems and is an artist himself. When you consider the bird, a whole theme of protectiveness, mothering and anxiety emerges - something that borders of hypervigilance, and Kelly Reichardt succeeds at making us hypervigilant, seeing the world through Lizzy's eyes.

Visually, it felt like I was gliding through Showing Up in the same way I'd glide through an art exhibit - we pass nude models, students performing interpretive dance, exhibits and shows. Lizzy is a keen observer, and makes us the same. The comedy sowed deeply into the movie's style and tone is really light and of a sort that won't take you out of the realness of the movie - funny situations that arise from people being who they are and how that relates to exactly what's happening. Michelle Williams and Hong Chau are so good in this - and overlooked for more awards than they ended up being nominated for (I was also giddy with excitement to see Amanda Plummer show up - a favourite of mine.) Like I said, the way this movie ended just resonated with me in such a strong way, and it ended up being one of those striking moments that made me realise, "Hey - that was really something. Great movie!" Without consciously knowing it, I'd emotionally bonded with Lizzy to a great degree, and her world really mattered to me. The only other Kelly Reichardt film I've seen is First Cow, and considering how good that film was she's 2 for 2 with me - I'll gladly watch anything else she makes or has made. Showing Up was meaningful, humanistic, grounded and a really worthwhile film to become absorbed by.

Glad to catch this one - competed at Cannes for the prestigious Palme d'Or, and named one of the Top 10 Independent Films of the Year by the National Board of Review. It also won the Robert Altman Award at the 39th Independent Spirit Awards.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Showing Up

Seen it twice. Better on 2nd viewing. Big fan of Kelly & Michelle.