Bad Education (Pedro Almodóvar, Spain): 64
[Gratifyingly assured from start to finish, but Almodóvar isn't
really temperamentally suited for noir -- he lacks the cynicism. Instead
of getting sucked further and further into the narrative's byzantine maw,
I found my empathy -- but not, significantly, my interest -- fading with
each new lurid plot twist. Also, Fele Martinez is kind of a wet noodle,
and keeps being blown off the screen (and on, ha ha) by Garcia Bernal, who
proves remarkably convincing and charismatic even in drag. High point thus
involves an extended film-within-the pairing GGB with Talk to Me's
Javier Camara, who matches his partner swish for swish. Bonus points for
not devolving, as I briefly feared it might, into a generic tale of
childhood sexual abuse; indeed, the tortured ex-priest ultimately becomes
the film's most moving character, though I doubt that'll assuage Victor Morton's concerns much.
Still waiting for that perfect synthesis of early kitschy Almodóvar
and late mature Almodóvar; this seems like a baby step in that
direction.]
Nobody Knows (Hirokazu Kore-eda, Japan): 48
[Actually, if anybody does know why Kore-eda felt this
ripped-from-the-tabloids melodrama, about a family of small children
abandoned by their terminally flaky sitcom mother, needed to be
approximately 17 hours long, I'd appreciate a précis of his
reasoning. First hour or so unfolds with well-judged deliberation and is
impressively detailed in its depiction of the kids' hermetic universe --
in fact, with the exception of a handful of unfortunate musical cues, I
can't really think offhand of any specific missteps anywhere. It's only
in the second hour (and 20 minutes) that you start to realize that the
film has never once budged from the slightly maudlin rut it carved midway
through the opening reel. I know it's terribly jejune to say that a film
is too long, but seriously, this movie is just way the hell too long. In
the end, the thing just ground me down, eroding my goodwill. Pity.]
Primer (Shane Carruth, USA): 88 [market screening]
[Simply the best pure science-fiction movie in like a decade -- more or
less In the Company of Men reimagined as a lost early Heinlein tale
(although the setup is closer to prime Lewis Padgett). Narrative
abstraction impeccably served by Carruth's gritty, lo-fi visual
sensibility, in which every shot is somehow simultaneously striking and
humdrum. What the hell actually happens isn't remotely clear after one
viewing, admittedly, but that's exciting rather than frustrating. Best
throwaway line in ages: "Are you hungry? I haven't eaten since later this
afternoon."]
A tout de suite (Benoît Jacquot, France): 50
[Never would have guessed this was Jacquot, apart from its sympathetic
but semi-detached observation of a young woman in distress. Here he
shoots in grainy b&w (video? super-8? I was never quite sure) and employs
a more jagged style than has been his custom -- not inappropriate, I
guess, given this film's fairly conventional lovers-on-the-lam scenario.
All too obviously based on someone's actual experience, with all the
advantages (emotional specificity) and weaknesses (dramatic
shapelessness) that implies; Isild Le Besco's fiery temperament serves her
character well early on, but she overplays the catatonia in the second
half, and the film kind of flatlines with her.]
10 on Ten (Abbas Kiarostami, Iran): 4
[What could be more exciting than a movie composed entirely of two fixed
camera angles in a moving vehicle, focused on a series of conversations
between driver and passenger? How about a movie composed almost entirely
of one fixed camera angle in a moving vehicle, focused on the driver as he
recites the most tedious director's-commentary track ever recorded? For
that's all this "movie" is: Kiarostami driving endlessly around the
location where Taste of Cherry was filmed, imparting scholarly
lessons about the miracle of the digital video camera (people behave so
naturally in its presence!), the superiority of non-professional actors
(they don't act! they just be themselves!), and -- my personal favorite --
the inherent intrusiveness of non-diagetic music, intended only to
manipulate the viewer's emotions...which is why, AK explains with a
straight face, he uses music only at the very end of his films, as a
means of signalling the audience that the picture is almost over. (I am
not making this up.) Not everything he says is that resoundingly inane,
but most of it is repetitive, banal and completely devoid of wit or
insight...and all the while, save for a few interpolated clips from
Ten (which suddenly looks riveting in this context), we've got
nothing to look at but a middle-aged man steering and talking. That a
major film festival would consider this worthy of attention is appalling;
that other critics continue to pretend that Emperor Abbas is stylin', just
plain sad.]
Mondovino (Jonathan Nossiter,
USA/Argentina/Italy/France): 43
[More than you probably really wanted to know about the wine industry's
movers and shakers, though those with a palette more refined than my own
may thrill to Nossiter's endless interviews with high-priced consultants,
recalcitrant French traditionalists, laid-back Napa Valley nouveau-snob
entrepreneurs, pompous Italian aristocrats, and cute little doggies.
(Well, he doesn't actually interview the dogs, but he sure seems obsessed
by them.) Still, I really think this is mediocre filmmaking:
self-indulgent, fatally disorganized, and repeatedly undercut by juvenile
editorial inserts, like the weird repeated shots of one California
family's automatic swimming-pool cleaner. And what's with all the
gratuitous zooming, often in mid-sentence? Sip some overpriced Mondavi and
calm the fuck down.]
Samaritan Girl (Kim Ki-duk, South Korea): 44 [market screening]
[Couldn't make emotional sense of this one, I'm afraid. First chapter is
the most compelling, but by the third chapter Jae-young's fate seems
almost irrelevant, and that actress' cheerful lasciviousness is badly
missed. Father and daughter seem locked in a silent, morose struggle to
determine who can behave in the most luridly inexplicable fashion, and
while the ending is rather poignant, I'd long since checked out. If Le
Chuck cackles his way through this one, I'm at a loss.]
Undertow (David Gordon Green, USA): 59 [market screening]
[Weird to see Green applying his super-hits-of-the-'70s aesthetic -- this
one even features the copyright date on the same card as the main title,
a Hollywood convention that died out sometime during the Ford
administration -- to such hackneyed, conventional material. A wealth of
arresting, occasionally twee detail, as usual; once Josh Lucas turns
up as a generic white-trash bogeyman, however, such niceties are
increasingly shunted aside by the requirements of the routine thriller
plot, which sometimes threatens to turn into The Return as it might
have been directed by Ron Howard. Very watchable nonetheless, and I never
would have guessed Jamie Bell is British had I not known it beforehand.
That kid can act. Dylan McDermott Mulroney, on the other hand...]
Old Boy (Chanwook Park, South Korea): 65
[Okay, this is fun, but it's kind of silly, no? Nothing but style and
plot, with the former consistently impressive and the latter increasingly
baroque; I didn't really imagine the rest of the film would match that
knockout Kafkaesque prologue, but neither was I prepared for the endless
series of "ho ho ho!s that make up the expository third act.
Ultimately, Old Boy adds up to less than the sum of its set
pieces, the most memorable of which finds our vengeful hero battling his
way through an endless corridor of thugs armed only with a hammer -- it's
not the fight choreography that impresses so much as the sheer
attenuation, which makes both the Burly Brawl and the House of Blue
Leaves look like massage-with-release by comparison.]
Kontroll (Nimrod Antal, Hungary): W/O
[Painfully unfunny comedy-thriller about a group of allegedly lovable
losers working as conductors in the Budapest subway system. With its
forced banter, nonstop mugging and endless chase sequences set to bad
techno, it resembles nothing so much as an attempt to go Hollywood made
by someone who grew up watching TV broadcasts of Running
Scared.] [Addendum: I now discover that Antal was
actually born and raised in the U.S. This explains a lot.]
Tomorrow We Move (Chantal Akerman, Belgium/France): 45 [market screening]
[Interesting mostly as further evidence of my beloved Sylvie's immense
range -- almost impossible to believe this is the same woman who played
the enigmatic object of desire in Akerman's La Captive. Here, she
demonstrates comic timing far superior to that of her director, who on the
basis of this and A Couch in New York should henceforth avoid
making anything that could possibly be likened to a soufflé.
Springs to life briefly in the middle section, when the apartment teems
with potential buyers; otherwise ponderously cute.]
The Holy Girl (Lucrecia Martel, Argentina): 62
The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things (Asia Argento, USA): 33
Look at Me (Agnès Jaoui, France): 51
The Consequences of Love (Paolo Sorrentino, Italy): 56
L'esquive (Abdellatif Kechiche, France): 52 [market screening]
Woman Is the Future of Man (Hong Sang-soo, South Korea/France): 44
Don't Move (Sergio Castellitto, Italy/Spain/UK): W/O
The Edukators (Hans Weingartner, Germany/Austria): 55
Fahrenheit 9/11 (Michael Moore, USA): 40
Tropical Malady (Apichatpong Weerasethakul, France/Thailand): 80
Marseille (Angela Schanalec, Germany): W/O
Exiles (Tony Gatlif, France): 43
Our Music (Jean-Luc Godard, Switzerland/France): 39
Somersault (Cate Shortland, Australia): W/O
The Motorcycle Diaries (Walter Salles, Argentina/Brazil/Chile/Peru/USA): 47
House of Flying Daggers (Zhang Yimou, China): 54
Los Muertos (Lisandro Alonso, Argentina/France): 12
Innocence (Mamoru Oshii, Japan): 39
Clean (Olivier Assayas, France): 60
Tarnation (Jonathan Caouette, USA): 57
Breaking News (Johnnie To, Hong Kong/China): 40
2046 (Wong Kar-wai, China): 51
The Life and Death of Peter Sellers (Stephen Hopkins, USA): 25