The Realism of the Supernatural

Lemming

Dominik Moll

France

2005

A convergence of eroticism in both mundane and intimate moments, of surreptitious character driven behaviors, and of a plotline so staggering is what this sterling French psychological drama by Dominik Moll has achieved. Brimming with exquisite darkness and bludgeoning sensuality, “Lemming” (which refers to a rodent native to Scandinavia the main characters have found in their kitchen drainpipe) did not just emulate the American master of asphyxiating films of such genre—David Lynch, but even positioned itself to a pillar of ingenuity on its own. The apparent eschewing of sensationalized approach to a subject matter with a very extravagant potent of being sensational allows a cinematic irony—the strangeness in familiarity. All the physical actions of the plot are all but natural and raw like eating dinner, going to the local veterinarian, presenting a project, and making love; but what makes the film breathtaking is that sentience of a supernatural entity lurking underneath these commonplace human actions.

Laurent Lucas and Charlotte Gainsbourg play the roles of a young and modern couple--Alain and Benedicte. Their married life has never been in any trouble until Alice played by Charlotte Rampling, the neurotic wife of Alain’s boss, Richard, committed suicide on the young couple’s spare room in their house. The film is a full Monty of a subtle eerie atmosphere and extends that atmosphere into the acting philosophy of the three main characters. Lucas has the most consistent character among the 4 in terms of not being possessed by any supernatural and psychological inflictions, yet, he lays eyes on anything hauntingly and speaks with a very controlled voice and unnoticeable intonations. Rampling has the strongest character in a psychopathic wife devoured by a disdainful hatred to her husband and while I am dreaded by the thought of recognizing a subtle performance as superior to an axiomatic one and vise versa, I can say that Rampling delivered a very haunting presence on the Moll’s modern masterpiece. While I commend Rampling’s ostentatious character, Gainsbourg’s interpretation of her character obtruded me with a deeper and enigmatic energy. The inert facial expression and movements verging on irksomeness while still keeping that grace remind me somehow of Shelley Duvall in Stanley Kubrick’s “The Shining”. But Gainsbourg is not about irksomeness verging on grotesque, which was Duvall, but rather torpidity bordering into a merciful ballet.  The transition of her character from Benedicte, who is Alain’s wife, to the devastating host of Alice’s disturbed soul is just seamless.  

Absolutely a perfect storm of film form and content, this 2005 Cannes Film Festival Entry unravels a one-liner of an interesting story in a well-weaved interrelationship of plot points, character decisions, scene parallelism, functions, and metaphors. The coherence achieved by the well-edited and placed scenes in the film is probably one of the cleanest I can think of. Cleanliness of coherence in a suspense/thriller movie is not very usual because it has the tendency to deprive engagement easily achievable through intricate plots, complicated sequences, and flaunty revelations. The film is successful in producing a very sensual result through producing tension in subtlety inevitably appearing as simple and even boring. Though, I never got bored at the movie, not even a second, and I mean that. The filmic energy present in “Lemming” is abundant in its kinetic form and it continues to radiate in a controlled amount. What is even surprising is that even in scenes where big revelations are made, the energy remains the same; it is still that same clandestine reverberating from the start to finish which is just a tremendous marvel to be amazed at. Silence, scarce use of music, and the over-all attempt to control the audio elements to highlight a scene is probably one of the key in achieving this dreamy characteristic. Even the delivery of the dialogues by the characters apparently is also controlled. Dialogue overlaps are too rare. There are seconds allowed for a character to answer his co-character emphasizing this silence helping much in creating the mysterious atmosphere of the film. Rarely they also shout and most of the time they almost whisper.

The key revelation in the film--Alice possessing the body of Benedicte after the former committed suicide, is not a new story especially in the Philippines.  Big studios in the country produced “Matakot ka sa Kulam” and “Villa Estrella” which are both gravely colored in garish, overblown and outstretched storyline. “Lemming” on the other hand finds itself in a dungeon against the pitfall of pretentious prodigality over the less favored storytelling of a supernatural content in a less fantastic approach. This contemporary thriller masterpiece finds greatness in escalating the concept of focusing what will make a supernatural case exist in a realistically treated narrative into the foreground.  This is an awesome perfect thriller. Another celebrated director of such genre is Michael Haneke who created the “Cache” and the Cannes winning “The White Ribbon” which both unfortunately disappointed me. My problem with Haneke is that he never resolves his mystery. The pauperism of the director to his viewers through the non-disclosure of the reason why we are following his stories exaggerates the asymmetrical relationship of the filmmaker and his audience. I know this is not the way Haneke wants his films to be viewed and neither is my objective impression of him, what I am just trying to say is that there is nothing like being gratified by being a part of the resolution. “Lemming” obviously did it for me. 

Black Dreams

Confessions

Tetsuya Nakashima

Japan

2010

“Confessions” is a vigorous and intoxicating masterpiece of obsession, salvation, and revenge captured in a surreal atmosphere of a sleek nightmare. Tetsuya Nakashima demonstrates blazing ingenuity of transmuting the groundbreaking POV of the thriller classic “Crime and Punishment”—a thriller that has no much suspended expectation from the audience because all of the crimes that are yet to de done are being revealed on the protagonist’s POV, thus making the morality of crimes and punishments at the foreground—into a gripping cinematic experience I have not fully experienced yet. Making it to the January short-list of my favorite category at the Oscars, the Best Foreign Language Film category, this Japanese film shatters the much devoured genre of thriller and elevates it in a footstall the world is not too familiar about. Beyond any doubt, another great, stunning, and flamboyant film has been produced by one of the world’s leading cinema nation—Japan.

The narrative of this film is a breathtaking achievement. The series of confessions made by the characters involved in the story actuates the revelations and future retaliations with the thrust of a scorching wickedness and brilliance. Contrasting and POV-shifting overlaps can be observed in the said series of confessions which by rule of thumb creates a betrothing multiple layers of storytelling elements and consequently, through power-editing and direction, marks an outstanding evolution of the he-says-she-says plotline. Key element to the over-all intensity of the film is its connoisseur-sense assuring the presentation and repetition of the proper information at the most appropriate time. This series of confession started with the teacher Moriguchi (Takako Matsu), then with a female student who informed us what happened after the teacher left the school, to the replacement teacher and his pathetic effort to make the class alive, to the poor mother of Naoki, to Naoki (who turned to a grimy brainsick room child), to Shuya admitting the committed crime and another plan to commit a bigger crime this time. The film allowed us an ample and easy access to what the rest of the film is about and it gave us insights from the farthest to far, and to close and closest.  Just when you think that the teacher who gave us the presentation of what the crime is about has left, she just comes back at the increasingly more important part of the film-sabotaging Shuya’s plan, and moreover, this plot point push the film in one of the most bad-ass climaxes  I’ve ever seen.

 The subtlety of destitution of time, of space, and of existence is haunting and its intensity leaves me cowering for air. Everything feels as if they are coming from something so cryptic, a place where every human being’s mind is at its most truthful and vulnerable. The narrative in the film through a set of the main characters’ confessions makes the story occur not in the physical space anymore, the classroom, the pool, the laboratory etc, instead, in the anguished heads of these characters where they have just found the placidity to confide. This is conceivably the vision Nakashima foresaw, letting the characters emotional deluge move the story and create explosive twists in the mental make-up of these unbelievable characters. Another object of a particular confession’s dissemination is its conflicting nature with another character’s confession. This allows us to be situated in an objective position since a confession is largely subjective. In Naoki’s mother’s confession, the teacher’s statement, she mentioned about the inequity of Naoki’s mother saying “It’s unfair!” which she acknowledges as being unfair for his son as being accused of the crime. This instance bestowed prejudice to Naoki’s mother because we are being fed by the continuous torment of Moriguchi’s dialogues, by the lack of counteractions, and most importantly by the glare carefully given to her through the story establishment. This kind of dynamics makes a film engaging and intriguing, in fact, it is the same underlying dynamics I’ve found in the 2009 Iranian film “About Elly”, and probably with other drama-thriller films.  The POV is absolutely clever as it still paves way for the continuation of the story and clearly it is a brilliant evolution of the he-says-she-says structured movies.

 Aside from the obvious strutting of meticulous film editing and knock-out cinematography, “Confessions” has made itself a hatful of hip American and Japanese music. While this correlates substantially to the generation of the film’s characters, it also provides an occupying contrast to the dark and brooding austere film atmosphere. The threatening darkness and dullness of the visual treatment in each frame are of top surreal interpretation of a world of revenge and desperation. The noticeable use of aerial shots in any part of the film denotes an omnipresent POV and captures a massive amount of energy done by one human to another or to himself. These shots represent the vastness of human indifference and cruelty as it also provides variety to the seemingly tight and intangible narrative space.

“Confessions” is an exasperating marvel, a proof how the century-old medium of filmmaking can conceive a fruition of another glorious pedestal of achievement. Energy of the most astounding pureness resonates every single aspect of filmmaking—cinematography, film editing, sound design, music, and acting all contributing to a very stylized and furnished thriller genre.