The Fall of a Hollow Megalith

Bangkok Love Story

Poj Arnon

Thailand

2007

No, this is not a love story. Detestable and an insult to the human spirit it is to entitle itself as one. This crime-action-gay-romance-drama is a painful and a horrible piece of thrown-away snatches of tearjerking images on its most irrational form. The overwhelming drama is verging on loathsomeness and its indulgence is apparently an absolute tomfoolery. The logic of the reality of life has been reduced by the excessive employment of sentimentality where life continues to transmute itself to a pinnacle destitute of happiness. Melancholia is the only stead this Thai movie can go to, or maybe an abyss of one. Moreover, the ultimate culprit in this uncollectible film by Poj Arnon is not just the emotionally bruising story, but also, its horrendous narrative and crude direction. Surfeit content and an indelicate form is the formula for the staggering stray of “Bangkok Love Story”. 

The scenes inside Maek's place, the warm colors and the over-all production value is probably the most well photographed scenes in the whole film. 

The movie is about a hired killer and a supposed target who would obviously find affection to one another. Then you have the disillusioned and extremely struggling family of the hired gunman, Maek, played by Rattaballung Tohssawat, whose mother is ridiculously weak and conceivably dying from AIDS and his younger brother who is the same disease-inflicted-turned-male-prostitute-who always-gets-beaten-by-the-local-gang-on-his-way-home-buying-food-for-his-mother-who-through-intercut-coughs-seriously-eventually-vomitting-blood. Then, you also have the big bad guys, haunting the two men. Then, you have the target, Iht, a cop, played by Chaiwat Tongseang, who turned sour to his wife and finally leaving her to follow the feeling which according to him has became so strong he doesn’t even know how to describe—which is sweet. Then, you have Maek, trying to hide away his feelings from Ikh and the final gun-fight scene, the chasing scene of Maek by the police, his imprisonment, the suicide of Maek’s brother, Mhok, played by Weeradit Srimalai, the loss of Ikh’s sight, and the death of Maek after Ikh waited for him for his release in the prison for years. Obviously, that is a megalith of a drama! The story seems to have its motivation to push forward from a curse. The convenience of imposing pain and sorrow to paint his characters is absolute, as if these characters are simply meant to be broken and punished. I completely hated that. One of the best lessons I ever treasure and one that deeply struck my mind came from my screenwriting professor, according to him; there is only one thing that propels a storyline, an energy that forwards a film, and we are all unconsciously aware of that mysterious force—that is Love. “Bangkok Love Story” has love in its façade, but it is not on its arsenal. Arnon’s biggest mistake is to commit pain and anguish on his film’s strongest suit, instead of love. Agony bellows the whispers of promise and mishaps devour the human heart. The conflict in this drama is insanely ubiquitous; some in suspecting plantings but most in staggering shockers bordering on irrational.

The technical is not even exceptional. The cinematography intends to get too dim at night and gritty at day capturing that 3^rd World City stark and heat which is safe but not as ostentatious as its storyline can get. There are a couple of absurdly sensationalized scenes and that happens to be the two love scenes between Maek and Ikh. The first one is their intense kissing and caressing on their white underwear on top of their dilapidated building under the city sky where seriously, 100,000 people could see them have they happen to get telescopes. The second one is during a heavy rain fall, in a darkened street in front of  Maek’s place where they laid together in front of the only lit space of the area, where people can see them under the shadows of the railings which is a metaphor of their imprisoned love. These scenes are just so inclined to the flashiness of commercial cinema and are so dull and tiresome with a pretentious significance in art cinema. The editing is also appropriate, at least decent and not too trying hard of what it really is. The series of intercuts in some climactic scenes are effective and interesting. The sound is also appropriate though perception of some diegetic designs as too generic cannot be miscounted, like the guns, the panicking crowd, and the autos as if they are canned and bought.  

This scene, and the whole movie, is absolutely no "Love of Siam."

Going back to the overabundance of drama, a clean-cut, good, coherently concocted drama film usually only has 2 or 3 scenes of the most heart-rending revelations and realizations. “Schindler’s List” has one. “A Beautiful Mind” has one, and “Finding Neverland” has one as well while “Bangkok Love Story” probably has 10.  As a consequence, the expected intensity of these bragging moments degraded severely. I believe, it is an issue with the screenwriter. He should have cut more than half of those what-he-thought-as-brilliant poignant sequences and use them to his future projects. There are really only 2 scenes from those many a tearjerker scenes that are truly captivating. First is when Mhok is waiting for Maek  at the train station for them to go away and just when he thought his brother came for him, police were right behind him leaving him alone and away from the life the two of them are just about to start few minutes ago. Second is during the voice-over of Mhok reading his suicide note to his brother; there is the line where he said—I will see you in heaven…but I have to go now, I have to leave you first….from then on, my life stopped (referring to the time when he acquired the disease); and then an intercut on a low angle shot showing Mhok hanging himself on a swing. Those two alone, minus 5 or 6 of the other big scenes could have redeemed the film who sees the world as a reality of despair. It requires a lot of emotion from the audience which is hard because they are required in the most unexpected time like a boxer in a ring without months of training.

 There is no way you will see this love scene in the real world. This is too unrealistically cinematic. 

This is also a complete anti-gay film. There is no way homosexuality has been celebrated or even been recognized or addressed. You know it exists because of the two men involved, male prostitution and sexual abuse but it didn’t let us know anything new about homosexuality than a cause to an unspeakable, never-ending doomed life. It has no hope. It kills love. It just wants us to cry. I even think that it doesn’t deserve tears from film enthusiasts because the supposed beauty of misery is not there. Films are not like that. They don’t simply present sorrow. They don’t simply present weeping. They don’t simply present death. Instead, they show that mystifying beauty in sorrow. They denote acceptance in weeping. They dedicate redemption in death. That is film! They show beauty in despicability and not just despicability. 

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. 

 

The Black Celebration of Colors

Black Orpheus

Marcel Camus

Brazil

1959

Truly a spectacle of life to behold, this Brazilian-French-Italian production film is an intoxicating classic about the story of Greek mythology’s beloved characters Orpheus and Eurydice into the contemporary milieu of Rio de Janeiro. Beyond any doubt, Marcel Camus’s “Black Orpheus”, which deservingly won the coveted Palm d’Or in 1959 Cannes Film Festival, is one of the most strikingly photographed pictures in the entire history of cinema. Astounding sputter of energy, passion and wallow has transmuted the magic of mundane life and romance into an unforgettable cinematic expression and experience. More than a river that is teeming with fish; this film possesses an insurmountable amount of human spirit through the physical backdrop of Rio de Janeiro’s famous and fabulous Carnaval--a round the clock party uniting creativity, music, joy and common unity in the occasion of the last 5 days leading to the Lenten season. Moreover, the music of Afro-Brazilian’s greatest contribution to the international popularity of Brazil—their Bossa Nova, has simply made the film more enchanted and vibrant.

Oprheus and Eurydice in the most popular scene among the many beautiful scenes in Black Orpheus. Notice how th hazy mountains at the background suggests the vastness of space the lens of the camera is covering. The banana tree at the left side covers the space Eurydice's face is forwarded to. Also notice the slope created by the banana leaves, Eurydice's head and shoulders, and Orpheus's head, left arm, and right leg. That slope is perpendicularly complimented by the wooden gate of their backyard. 

The ultimate arsenal of Camus’s sophomore movie is its breathtaking cinematography. Probably not in terms of camera movement and technique, but more on the composition, the shadows, the colors, and that which makes it fully outstanding—depth of space. Extending this full fledged beauty is the fact that this beauty maintained its seamless and excellent photography until the very end. In fact, the final scene where the two kid sidekicks of Orpheus and another young girl are playing and singing at the disposal of a new day, where they have truly convinced themselves that playing the guitar makes the sun rise just like how Orpheus do it, is a marvelously captured moment.

A very long shot of the Carnaval's afternoon parade.

Subtlety of shadows in most frames is a very nice technique to render sprightliness. Interesting is the fact that shadows have been controlled and not been overused. Even more interesting is how a single frame is set to be photographed. The composition of elements in “Black Orpheus” is not as conventionalized as Hollywood’s narrative cinema, nor as impressionist as the usual French cinema can get, and nor as radical as independent cinema of any nation can be. Instead, it is a composition that traces its root from a different art medium that happens to be the fore-runner of what we call movies today—photography. The variety of the elements on the frames is just blowing me out of my socks. The very first scenes when we are being introduced to the community that will soon celebrate Carnaval are more than enough of a reason to praise the whole photography in the film. It is a sequence of the most ostentatious and the most stylized framing I think I have ever seen. Fortunately, the film is not all about flamboyance. There are many scenes that are very simple in terms of the number of elements present which shifts the tone from loud to silent and tender. And the most interesting part of the photography is its creation of depth in the space a frame suggests. Achieving this requires the prudent use of aforementioned lighting and composition, thus letting us to realize how the relationship between photography principles has been penultimately ascertained for the greater purpose of cohering it to the entirety of the film. The only thing that seems to be inadequate for me is the variety of camera shots. The film is embroidered by establishing shots, very long shots, long shots, and medium shots. Close-up shots could have provided more opportunity to unravel more each of the characters involved at least in camera terms. Probably it is the shot that cinematographer tried to avoid for the camera philosophy of panoptic scale the film has. Whatever it is though, I still have to admit that the cinematography of “Black Orpheus” absolutely compliments the festal and across-the-board atmosphere of the story.

 Orpheus defending Eurydice from the man in Death's costume. Look how dynamic the composition of this frame is. The shadows of the two men are prominent at the left side covering that supposedly empty space. The use of deep focus is breathtaking; take a look at how Eurydice is positioned between the men, one trying to kill her and one trying to defend her. The crucial yellow light on her face and  the sharply contrasted shadows of the weeds contribute to the creation of deep space between the camera and Eurydice. 

There is no denying though that while this Cannes Film Festival Palm d’Or winner is visually staggering and entertaining, the tendency for its content to be a subordinate of its form has honestly gave in. The narrative is simple but at times, it feels like it is already bordering to dragging if not only for its visual exuberance. Sometimes, it feels as if the plot is a mere consequence of the necessity to move the story forward. Having said that, I honestly wish that I am simply exaggerating this part. The film has a concrete story; it is just that I find the structure a little lingering on the development and too abrupt on the tragedy-proper. Knowing that the story is based on a Greek mythology tragedy, I was expecting catharsis after the tragedy of death. However, that purifying surge of bereaving anguish and loss has never been explicitly presented or at least obviously implicated because they both died. I cannot say though that this hinders development of our characters. The redemption of this forgivable flaw is the fact that Orpheus became an active protagonist finally when Eurydice died. That plot point allowed a wide-open door to know who Orpheus is by witnessing his obvious desire. Yes, there is a significant moment when the carefree Orpheus transforms into a man who just found a truthful love but the conclusion is still missing. The redemption to this cliffhanger of fate is the final scene I have mentioned above—the two kid sidekicks of Orpheus and another young girl singing and dancing upon the rising sun. Definitely, the tragedy that happened between the star-crossed lovers transcends its misfortune and at the same time hopes for the eventual cease of this vicious cycle. The best thing about the non-technical part of the film for me is the contemporary take on a story created even before Jesus Christ.

 The charismatic Serafina cheering her cousin Eurydice and Orpheus dancing together. Take a look at how deep the focus of this shot is. Three faces at the back of Serafina and her boyfriend are equally clearly photographed. 

The second best thing about this film of exploding colors, aside from the art direction, is its adorable casting. Orpheus, played by Breno Mello is a perfect black debonair, Eurydice, played by Marpessa Dawn is a black goddess with that very sweet and charming face and smile, Serafina, played by Lea Garcia is a goddess of energy and presence. Garcia may actually be my favorite among this group of lovely people. Providing sufficient liveliness that compliments Eurydice’s timidity is a dexterous job that is to be credited to Garcia. Even the two boys I have mentioned above, Benedicto and Zeca are very fascinating to me. Innocence and ignorance are two very different things and they naturally managed to demonstrate that duality in a very charming way.

The beautiful final scene I am mentioning above. This screen shot is a photo of celebration, nature, hope and future. 

My cornerstone of watching movies from different nations and of different languages is the opportunity to emotionally connect, at least virtually, to the life and culture of that strange piece of space somewhere in our world.  This has been a very interesting experience for me; a sensation that is easy to be desired. I don’t really know if these people dance like crazy hyper bunnies, but it is not difficult to realize that music and dance are not mere diversion from their livelihoods, instead they are essential components of the spirit of the community, or so to say, it is their actual livelihood. “Black Orpheus” is not a completely perfect film, but it is exotically lavish and overflowing with human soul. It is an explosion of unbelievable dynamics in music, colors, photography, and acting. Most importantly, among the many movies about black people I have seen, this is the first and the only movie that is admirably not plagued by racial discrimination, poverty, illness, and brainsick violence to any of its fortress. With that realization on the film and the film itself, I am deeply gratified. 

The Two-Fold Mystery and the Honest Enigma

About Elly
Ahsgar Fahardi

Iran

2009

Iran’s official entry to 2009 Academy Awards Best Foreign Language Film category swept me off my feet with its riveting revelations and character studies engrafted in its formidable narrative. Farhadi consecrated to piercingly direct the story of a group of grown-up friends whose supposedly diverting weekend vacation suddenly turned into an ultimate test when Elly, the title holder and the invitee in the group, all of a sudden disappears. They don’t know if she simply just left away or if she has drown in the sea trying to save the life of one of the couple in the group’s child. A thriller enshrouded in distinctive studies of individual characters and their reaction to one single incidence gave a Silver Bear for Best Director award for Asghar Fahardi in Berlin Film Festival, as well as the Jury Grand Prize and Best Screenplay award in Asia Pacific Screen Awards. Still a little underrated I suppose, for not being recognized in more prestigious Film Awards and Festivals; nonetheless, this superior Iranian film enraptured me convincingly with its originality in a very consumed genre.

One of the major aberrations, and the most authoritative, Farhadi installed in his work is the destitution of foreshadowing. Indeed a raw material in every drama, and so is the case in any serious film by every serious filmmaker’s own accord, the film ventured into a courageous function which nonetheless paid off. The early part of the film presents a group of happy people—a picture I don’t recognize too often in an Iranian-Kurdish film. In fact, I fell in love with the fact that Iran this time creates an effort to show a less conservative, less austere, and less political subject matter instead of the notoriety of Middle East terrorism hyped by the Westerns. The first 30 minutes of the film are all devoted to the fun this group of 8 friends and their children engage themselves to enjoy the weekend on a private house off by the seashore; music jamming, charades, volleyball, and simple chatting engrossed everyone. Those scenes are very amusing, so amusing that even though the plot seems to be a little too reserved, almost plotless, it can still entertain you even fastening you to appease for the meantime, before the tragedy strikes. It has that Gus Van Sant’s “Elephant” wriggle—a very unsuspecting beginning and a very abrupt and opposite turn of events. Elly disappeared, without everyone knowing if she has drowned saving a child or if she simply walked away. The genius followed from there on and ingenuity flowed, creativity showcased, and characters revealed. It is not to say that there is an absolute absence of foreshadowing though; few scenes before the last scene of Elly, where she is flying a kite so happily like a child, she mentioned that she would have to go but Sepideh, her student’s mother who invited her, refused. That which I consider the closest to foreshadowing did not give us any hint of the trouble Elly will create, though it gives us the possibility of missing Elly.  

The beautiful and demure Elly flying a kite just before the tragedy unbeknownst to everyone. 

Honor is a word the film is insinuating until it has been made explicit after Sepideh’s revelation of the real reason she invited Elly in the group’s vacation and why she hide it from all of them. Elly is an engaged woman however, she wishes to break up with his fiancée. Sepideh invites Elly to meet a friend who has just divorced his German wife. Elly refuses and Sepideh insisted with the former getting what she wants. The rest of the group is unaware of the real reason. She wants not to tell the truth to Elly’s fiancée, who arrives in the beach house after the group’s call, because she want to keep Elly’s honor to her fiancée. While the rest of the group’s consensus is to tell the truth to Elly’s fiancée, after all, they are really unaware of it, Sepideh is still reluctant. When she is finally left with nothing but to tell the truth, relinquishing the honor she wanted Elly to keep, she finds a need to keep one to her. When Elly’s fiancée asked Sepideh if she at least refused to go and meet Sepideh’s friend, she answered no, letting him know that she really persuaded Elly in coming with them will officially point the man’s hatred and disgust to her. I commend the fact that this important moral element in the story has been positioned in the very answer to the mystery the group has generated. I would love to distinguish the fact there are actually 2 mysteries running on the film. The first is whether Elly really drowned or just simply went away and second is the more important—Sepideh holding the truth and the group’s stunning interaction after the incidence and the total quest for learning the truth. The honor now is what makes the film Iranian. At first, I am amused by these characters because they are not exactly my stereotype of a Kurdish-Muslim. They are a bit Westernized or commercial I may say, with that constant atmosphere of conservatism. Sepideh’s attempt for an artificial redemption gives an unpretentious enigma to a well understood character study.  

The narrative part should be perfect for me, really deserving of the Best Screenplay award it won. The only thing that I wish to have been changed was the employment of hand held camera—the ultimate camera mounting I dislike. Shaking frames definitively corrupts suspension of disbelief, especially in a serious film. There are some mid-tempo panning shots in the film that are already painful and hazy to the eyes, which is just verging to being useless. I understand though that there are some scenes that ideally need a hand held camera, however, a film that can make everything as visually as smooth as possible will always be a superior film. Bahz Luhrman’s “Australia” features one of my favorite chasing and running scenes ever because of its astonishingly polished camera movement despite of the massive motions and consumption of space in the scene—that is where the aborigine child showed Nicole Kidman that the man managing her ranch is only lying about the malfunction of the water tank. Visually-wise, “About Elly” is less exotic and brilliant than some other Middle East movies like “Osama”, “Turtles Can Fly” and “Color of Paradise”. There are also sometimes that I am looking for some changes in the philosophy of the camera. At the early part, you can barely notice shots with single character only which is understandable based on the atmosphere of that part. When the mood switched from leisure and fun to disarray and disturbance, I was expecting more isolated shots of each character. On the other hand, the cinematographer and director still opted for the same philosophy which for me is not a big problem though. 

(Topmost) The group the day after the tragedy trying to figure out what happened. (Above) Sepideh reveals the truth to everyone.

Fargadi’s direction of the film is outstanding. I adore how he manages a total shift of tone atmosphere and how well he instructs every actors, especially the children. That ultimate scene which I guess lasted for more or less 20 minutes where the guys are trying to search and save the boy, while women shouting and cowering at the shore, then the others who went to the market came baffled with what is happening, then the boy was saved and now Elly is missing, and so on and so forth, is one powerful work of rigid direction, awesome acting by every single actors (that is without any exaggeration), exquisite editing, and a cinematography at top form. It is on that sequence though that I never got distracted by all the mid to fast tempo panning shots it required, instead I adore the camera movement applied on the sequence where the assumption of space is correlated with multi-character ostensive language of actions. That heck of a sequence is just the powder keg of the eventual and total unleashing of what the film is really made of.

“About Elly” interestingly delineates what people thinks about someone they don’t really know and there is surely no other better scenario to collate them than on a group of people who know each other very well. I am vainly intoxicated with the interaction occurring between these life long friends about thinking what is best, who is right, and how it happened. The emotional and moral make-up of each characters are so diverse that it structured a concerning storyline into a resonating and inescapable haunting of every human being equipped with the simple faculty of reacting. The film consistently keeps the upsurge of tension while it fleshes out and even debones every reasoning human being involved in the plot and finally unveils the mystery, and more importantly learns something that won’t be corrected—no matter how we want to tell the truth, there is a compelling and intangible force that won’t just allow us—and the reason behind it is not political at all. 

The King of Life

The World is Big and Salvation Lurks Around the Corner

Stefan Komandarev

Bulgaria

2009

How many films are out there that can actually make you feel thoroughly alive? To what extent should you consider yourself a film enthusiast and not doubt yourself in times that you think you’ve just found one of the best films in the world? This Bulgarian film, literally entitled as “The World is Big and Salvation Prowls on All Sides”, has granted a delightful caress on my heart and a staggering warmth to embrace my ideology which has believed in the enthrallment found after each man’s seemingly inconceivable journey for salvation on the face of a world stricken by pain and anguish. Komanderev’s debut narrative film is dowered by a captivating charm of images with terrific colors and frame composition and with the betrothing power of his connoisseur’s talent of storytelling.  The film is a celebration of life; and its howling convergence among the nostalgic past, the mundane present and a hopeful tomorrow. This short-listed movie for the 2009 Academy Awards Best Foreign Language Film category is a charismatic and beautiful motion picture that deserves every recognitions it has received in at least 17 International Awards; so bad though that Bulgaria just almost garnered its first ever nomination at the Oscar; I think the film is very much deserving for it. 

 

The story is told in two time frames: the present time is when Bai Dan went to a Germany to look after his grandson Sashko who is suffering from Amnesia after the car accident that killed his parents; and the past time is during Sashko’s childhood when he, together with his family escaped from Bulgaria to Germany. The second time frame is creatively used as the graphic visualizations of Bai Dan’s attempts to restitute his grandson’s memories. The result of this very resourceful narrative device is so commendable that it rendered an overwhelming quantity of the ineluctable relationship between the past and the present. There is a poignant scene in the first 30 minutes of the movie when Sashko is looking at the pictures his grandfather gave him. The editing intercut from Sashko’s close up shot showing tears rolling out of his eyes to a bedtime story moments of the young Sashko (him) and his mother telling the story of a lost rabbit seeking it way home.

Before the complete intercut, another shot was necessary—an aerial low angle shot of Sashko sitting on a bench on the hospital’s moon-lit gardened; using graphical editing, it slowly crossfades to a baby rabbit sitting on an old dilapidated trunk on a moonlit woods from the storybook Sashko’s mother is was reading to him. 

The film went to back to Sashko at the present time, while his mother’s voice continues telling the story. As she says the lines about the mysterious path on the woods assuring the lost baby rabbit that it will take him home, Sashko starts to stand and walk along the path on the hospital garden, and thus, his journey home we all know is about to officially start. That scene is just one of the many scenes that have a compelling power that reunites the past and the present, the living and the deceased, and from there ventures into a time that is not the present nor the past anymore—the future, a time when the present and the past collides. 

Definitely a man-centered story, this film obviously defines the transition of a man; that is why the grandfather needed to have a grandson from his son. I appreciate the ambiguous reference of who-is-the-son-and-who-is-the-father in the first 15 minutes of the film. The second to the last part where Sashko is announced as the new king of backgammon in their locale after defeating his grandfather in a tie-breaker in a series of games, is the most efficient way to deliver the message that every man goes and every man comes. What is even more miraculous in this film is despite the fact that it is driven by male characters; I have never detected, not even half a minute of any hiatus interrupting the peaceful balance between men and women. Bai Dan and Sashko are not empowering women at all. They are indeed simple humans seeking for happiness and resolution without owning the power of its ability. Women in this film are equally are not plot-wise equally important, not even story-wise, but they provide salvation. To put this on another pedestal, this woman granting salvation does not bestow it heavenly, or as a God to an immortal. Instead, she also seeks salvation and happiness in return.

The Backgammon is another interesting part of the film. Apparent reasons for its contribution to the film would be life’s metaphor to a game; life is being played with destiny. The backgammon element also coheres to the rest of plot points, like the alleged selling of illegal backgammon boards causing Sashko’s father to be blackmailed by his communist boss to report anti-communist efforts of Bai Dan, the gradual lessons of Bai Dan and Sashko which intercepts with the gradual recovery of Sashko’s memory, and of course the initiation of the grandson to becoming one of the “men” through one of Bulgaria’s more famous pastime. 

A good the story is without a good narrative is forgivable, at least for me. Moreover, a good story with an outstanding narrative can never be an excellent film without technical competencies and I know for sure I am not the only one who believes in that. “The World is Big and Salvation Lurks Around the Corner” has certainly got all those important qualifications to becoming a very good film. Emil Hristow, the cinematographer has done an exquisitely wonderful visual interpretation of the screenplay. Since there are two distinguished time frames in the story, the difference in the treatment of the past and the present are also well identified. The past scenes have a very crisp, yellow-brownish, and thawed texture and colors as if every scene happened in one lovely lazy afternoon. I commend the realization that Hristow did not alter the treatment for the past scenes even when there are really shifts of eventual distress in the course of the escape. Soft shadows from the sun are always almost constant depicting the hope the film has started operating on our minds from its very opening and attempting to cushion the already obvious trouble. The cinematography endowed a dosage of beautiful nostalgia from the past.

The treatment for the present are dominated by cold colors—garish green and promising blue. Soft to almost hard shadows of the sun are still almost constant which creates a very luscious atmosphere. The present time treatment also gave way to even colder colors like gray, and a little touch of larky grounds and Bulgarian soil. The musical score has always been very helpful to any film. In this one, the opening scene alone that has a witty-paced whimsy beat mixed with Sashko’s soliloquy about his birth gave us the a mood that is at first feels very French, or at least European, and at most a mood that foretells the wit of the narrative course. 

With the dexterous eyes of Hristow and Komandarev, few remarkable scenes from the film made me feel so conscious of the mundanity of the present moment. As I have been mentioning all throughout, the beauty of the past and present and future are seamlessly conceived in the story and narrative, and furthermore been captured on screen, especially the present scenes. There are moments when Sashko and his grandfather simply sits on benches or old chairs, lies on the grass and talk, and with the appropriate composition, colors, and pace, those simple shots just became very detoxifying and at the same time sweetly intoxicating. The ultimate scene with such power that I can declare could be the one where Sashko and Maria are sitting on a boat dock; Maria lying on Sashko’s lap, plainly talking, with the out of focused lake waters at the background. Then it reminded me of a line I’ve seen on TV—“There is surely no other reason than the single purpose of the present moment”. 

Easy is to fall in love with a charmer film, but it takes an ingenuity and a truthful passion for life and films to create a deeply moving film that is not just simply a charmer. The film is teeming with life. It is simply intoxicating to watch a movie that has such an incredible respect for life, abundant sources to feel alive, and a hopeful heart to always begin a journey. The film is not a Utopian movie which would be a sorely pathetic attempt to create a beautiful film. What this film has is the acceptance of the life’s unavoidable loneliness and detriments and the more important thing is the belief that the world is big enough for salvation to bumble around everywhere; and while everybody believes that the world has been infected by selfishness and greed, this film has found a world where love is still plethoric.

The Tough Guy Reinvention

Pulp Fiction

Quentin Tarantino

USA

1994

This Cannes Film Festival Golden Palm winner has probably been one of the most intelligent and notorious movies ever made to strike audiences from all around the planet since Tarantino introduced it. Honestly, I have never been excited to see the film. Based on most of hearsays, “Pulp Fiction” is a violent film highlighted by Tarantino’s wicked creativity. After seeing ‘Kill Bill 1 & 2”, which are my first two Tarantino films, I somewhat have deduced that “Pulp Fiction”-experience. This deduction though is definitely a sorely curtailed and unnecessary transgression of evaluating a film without actually seeing it; for “Pulp Fiction” is just an overwhelming cornucopia of originality, imagination, and fire! 

Aggression resulting to hostility and brutality driven by unjust motivations and/or unexpected obsessions contoured the silhouette of this appealing and edgy fiction. Despite these very unholy human idiosyncrasies engaging the main characters of the film, Tarantino had delineated his cleverness and originality by subtly channeling the characters from a series of worsening mishaps to the beginning of a tranquil redemption. Seeking salvation, consciously or not, in a world of drugs, guns, and fights sounds as helpless as impossible; however, this film shattered all clichés. What is even more commendable is the fact that all of the things most of the characters do are more likely unintentional. Butch (Bruce Willis) is the only protagonist who sturdily and consistently wanted to break up from Marsellus Wallace’s (Ving Rhames) gang from start to finish. Pitt (Samuel Jackson) certainly has the most highlighted emancipation, but he did not want it from start to finish. There had to be a miracle happen to him to realize that he wanted to stop his business with the gang. Vincent (John Travolta) did not have any redeeming moment in the story; however, the closest would be his desperate attempt to revive the cataleptic Mia (Uma Thurman). I believe that it is an exaggeration to label this brilliant film as happily ended, for likewise in fairy tales, a happy ended story needs the correction of everything. I commend Tarantino for not forcing any corrective measures to enunciate the presence of redemption. He only allowed rectifications and not correction because it takes a semi-God to eradicate such business. Moreover, the alterations detectable in the film are personal and not organizational or social. Butch had made a rectification when he went back to the basement, where Marsellus and he were held hostage, to save his boss who few minutes back was just trying to kill him. So Butch, instead of escaping his gangster boss and live his life in apprehension had managed to receive redemption from him and furthermore receive an implied absolution and signal to leave their business and go. 

I so fell in love with the sleepy and nostalgically colorful cinematography employed in the film. The soft lighting against the dominantly warm colored set and design creates memory-pinning images of the yesteryears. In case of bar scenes, where the set should be colder in color, the lighting still seldom uses hard lighting. The cinematography also uses a variety of colors to accentuate depth. Tim Burton films and “Pulp Fiction” can be both characterized by colorfulness and darkness, but Burton’s are dark, colorful, and bright, this one is dark, colorful, and squashy. Another element that contributed much to the vogue of the film is its hip musical score. These scores are not original; these are popular songs at least in the American pop culture. Assuming that using pop songs will degrade the authenticity of the film may be true in most cases but in this film, it is unnecessary. In fact, it has made the film more memory-pinning, trendy, and intelligently outstanding. The editing is competitive, though I wish I can say something else for that sounds definitely generic. It is hard to notice editing the first time you watch it, and this film has a non-linear storyline, compelling us to pay more attention to the corrects sequence rather than the shot to shot editing.

An unconventional storyline should possess a strong reason for doing so. Sean Penn’s “Into the Wild” had to tell the story in shuffled sequences because he wanted to match his protagonists’ adventures with the different stages of a man’s life—that is from infancy, to adolescence, and finally to adulthood. “500 Days of Summer” is probably the weakest non-linear edited story I have seen yet. “Pulp Fiction” though highly needed that technique. The movie had to start with the Bonnie and Clyde-like lovers planning to rob the restaurant where they were eating, and later reveal to be the exact place and time Vincent and Pitt were eating. The scene had to stop with the female robber pointing her guns while shouting and the next thing we saw was the comic-inspired OBB. It ended with the same scene; the only difference is that we already knew that Pitt and Vincent were also there. As mentioned, Pitt has the most highlighted redemption because it was positioned at the end and we usually remember endings. Aside from that, Pitt’s redemption is spiritual which takes everything into a deeper existential pedestal. Unlike Butch’s redemption which is a lover’s promise-driven one and inevitably commercial, Pitt’s salvation is more artistic and more complying to the artistry Tarantino is doing. The first and the last scene of the film, which is actually a single sequence, provided us with what we need to witness to identify character development. Knowing the reason behind Pitt’s Messianic predicament, permitted us to allow the complexity he is showing. Butch’s story is supposed to happen after that restaurant holdup, but his sequences were edited in the early to middle part of the film. One practical reason is that Butch is a main character and thus, his late appearance will cause disproportionate structure. The shambled sequences are not merely shambled without reasons, instead, it was used to solidify and cohere the many quirky elements of this fervid story into one flamboyant structure of one great film. 

 

Probably the best aspect in the film is the screenplay. The whimsicalities are so foxily planted; either within the character or within the plot. The stories told inside the film, or the rumors circulating among the introduced and unintroduced characters are not as necessary as it should be. It is forgivable though because those are as idiosyncratic as the dominating atmosphere throughout the film. One of my favorite told stories within the film is Mia’s experience as an actress in a pilot of a TV series. Mia was one of the Foxy Force Five, each has their own specialty; the blond one was the leader; the Japanese fox was a Kung Fu master; the black girl is the demolition expert; French fox’s specialty was sex; and she, was the expert with knives and knows a lot of old jokes because her grandfather was a vaudevillian. Moreover, the idea was that she will crack up one joke every episode, but they were never given another episode. Again, this is not really necessary, but it is amusing in that pop-culture-pinning way.  The passion for TV, music, and entertainment is always present in the atmosphere, which again makes the film hip! Another small quirky element in the film but has provided a clever irony is when Vince and Pitt are wearing shirts and shorts in the car and the restaurant. Big and tough gangster men can never be ridiculed enough than forcing them to wear shirts and shorts making them look like dorks.

“Pulp Fiction” is a scorching and ostentatious piece of artwork. Tarantino’s originality transcends in a profusion of transforming human wickedness in an extremely pleasurable and highly entertaining cinematic experience. The menacing colors of a film noir, the outrageous possibilities of what is next, and the undeniable force that compels viewers to be drawn are nothing but the niftiest of all the clever filmmakers I have ever witnessed.

The Red Expression

Bad Education

Pedro Almodovar

Spain

2004

Pedro Almodovar, the world renowned feminist director, coming up with a queer film is nevertheless a brave statement about the integrity of women and the women-like men against the politically stronger sex—the male. This 2004 Spanish film is embroidered with the trademark Almodovar expression through red and other warm color-palette about unacceptable obsessions succumbing for at least recognition. Fantastic in most edges of a rubric-cube’s thriller, “Bad Education” is a flamboyant, unpredictable, and an original contemporary film.

Enrique (Felle Martinez) holds one of the most important elements in a thriller film—the POV. Despite that fact, interestingly Enrique is like a five year-old prince in the sense that his objective in the film is too sublime and seemingly too passive compared to the objectives of other major characters. This exclusivity in the POV of the film creates more suspense in the part of the audience for Enrique’s eyes are the viewer’s eyes as well. Unlike other thriller films whose main character or POV-holder do everything to seek for the reason behind the question, this case is just different. Enrique is a little appeased and a little ascertained to move the story. The force providing the thrill in the film is not provided by Enrique’s curiosity to solve the mystery instead by his reaction to the perseverance of the second character—Ignacio (Gael Garcia Bernal). Ignacio wants to play the role of Zahara, the drag queen in his play “The Visit” and obviously he is going to move heaven and earth just to get it. The aspiring actor never got the POV but he is more of the protagonist when it comes to drive to attain a certain goal while the POV-holder’s objectives are not even a quarter of Ignacio’s. The reason why this works is because of the fascinating dynamics between the two characters. Ignacio’s objective depends on Enrique’s decision and Enrique’s decisions are dependent on the past the two of them shared and the apprehension he is developing to his childhood friend. The objectives and conflicts in this film is overshadowed by the director’s style which is not a bad thing neither a disadvantage of any sort. This is definitely not a screenwriter’s film but definitely a director’s film more than anything else.   

This mere shot tells metaphors about the general scheme of the film: the distance between Enrique and Ignacio speaks about the many years they haven't heard of one another and its approaching infringe in the attempt to reviving the friendship and the sunlight on Enrique's side and its absence on Ignacio hints a secret the former doesn't know about the latter.

I am thinking too much about the development in the characters of “Bad Education” and at first I was saddened to figure out that it has been confined much to the suspense genre which equates character development to the mere fact of just knowing what happened. That is probably the weakest part of the film. While Almodovar utilizes the limitless opportunity of complexity in a story which provides quality revelations, the practicality of using what the protagonist would learn eventually in the course has been almost unavailable. I appreciate the deception in the storyline that as we are waiting to finally clarify our assumptions that young Enrique and Ignacio had really been sexually abused by Father Jacob in the orphanage, we are surprised that we never witnessed such scenes explicitly and instead we are taken to a different sub-story, a different pedestal of growing intensity and consequently curiosity.

A flashback scene of Ignacio and Father Jacob which will reveal as the exact scene from "The Visit" which Enrique will be directing.

High praises should be rendered to Almodovar’s use of creative devices. The quasi-flashback at the early minutes of the film juxtaposed with Enrique reading the script Ignacio wrote is trying to convince us that it is not just a mere thought or imagination but a picture of what these two childhood friends have undergone. The contribution of such device doesn’t end there, eventually we would be surprised that those actual sequences are the exact sequences in the film Enrique would be directing and Ignacio would be playing the drag role. This device is one of the most efficient and successful deceit I have seen yet. One of the things in the film that I spent conscious effort to trace its development is whether Ignacio will get the role or not, and I never thought that it has already been answered by that quasi-flashback mimicking foreshadowing with the fake Ignacio (played by Bernal) playing the drag queen character. This device also gives us a hint that the real Ignacio would be incisively like the gay character in “The Visit”. That originative manipulation comprised of reminiscing and fast forwarding at the utilitarian expense of stylized storytelling produced intelligent control over the rhythm of the narrative and that complexity resting on logical collectedness. Such single element at its disposal is automatically a bountiful of Almodovar legacy yet its individuality even raises the bar at the ether.

Probably the most striking shot in the film, the enclosed darkness predicts serious consequence to Ignacio, as Enrique (riding in the red car) learns about the secret.

Almodovar has always utilized scenes where a character or two reveal a secret from the past, and more often than not he opts to concentrate on that character telling the suddenly accessible information without any visual accompaniment. I can recall scenes from “To Return” and “All About my Mother” with such instances. This one however is a bit different, flashback scenes are required to be in the film when Father Jacob who is presently Mr Berenguer reveals how Ignacio died. Such flashback sequence is needed visually and is essential to the total coherence of the form because it is a supplement to the creative device mentioned above, and this time the information is coming from a different major character.  That supplement enables us to see how the real Ignacio looks like as supposed to the character Juan (Bernal) did everything to portray. The second device also counterpoises the balance between the character of the blundered Father Jacob and the untrustworthy Juan, and this time the fault-finding eye of Ignacio’s death looks sternly at Juan, more than Mr. Berenguer. This sequence requires us to be engaged more in a series of never-ending revelation and accusations.

 

 The first appearance of Gael Garcia Bernal as Juan and not as Juan pretending Ignacio. The way he looks so youthful is amazing. The ultra soft lighting, the unnoticeable make-up, and the clean shaved face all made him so youthful.

“Bad Education” is a brilliantly cinematographed film about fervid and clandestine obsessions at the height of religion, education, and socialization. As it speaks controversially, the film should be celebrated more of an artwork than a powder keg of social and religious revelations. The film is the film itself because the director made it his own; moreover, “Bad Education” is “Bad Education” because it is an Almodovar film more than anything else. Probably the drawback of an illustrious modern-day auteur, and the quagmire of a heavily stylized director is the criticism of the difficulty of these films to soar independently without the apparent strings of the creators’ minds. This contemporary Spanish film is undoubtedly adorable I just deeply feel that the director’s extreme ingenuity and expression in absolutely all of his works makes a dark, contentious, worldwide issue of morality a subordinate component of his work.