Film-Talk

Questions Of Identity And Nationality

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Wed, 30 May 2012 10:00:00 +0000

The recent win of the Palme d'Or for Michael Haneke's Amour threw the question up again: is it a French film by an Austrian director or a French film by a German director or an Austrian film shot in French by an Austrian director ... or simply a European film by a ... European (?), Austrian (?), German (?) director?

To be sure, Amour was co-produced by France, Germany, and Austria while Haneke is German born, yet has lived in Austria for most of his life. The question of identity is one that as far as Haneke himself is concerned, only he can answer - is he German, because that's not only where he's been born, but that's also where he shot many of his films, or is he Austrian, because that's where he grew up and that's - perhaps - how he feels? Does it matter with two countries so similar in culture? Does it matter to Haneke? Does it matter at all? Especially in a global age such as ours where for many people, the question of identity is increasingly difficult to answer, not to mention the fact that with regard to Europe, borders disappear and with it, border controls.

But do they?

Michael Haneke

Sometimes, I get the impression that if anything, the disappearance of these borders seems to have resulted in an increase for a need of a national identity - at least in Europe - so as if to seek shelter and reassurance behind a country's flag in exceedingly precarious and unsettled times. I wonder, if this need for identity, to belong to a particular nation, is a European phenomenon. In other words, is it the same for American (directors, actors, etc.), or are identities in the US easier to define: if you're not born American, moving to America makes you so?

Romy Schneider

The question is by no means a new one. The most prominent example (in European cinema at least) may well be Romy Schneider. She was born in Vienna, but grew up in Germany, where she's lived for the better part of her life. Yet she's perhaps most identified today as a French actress, France having been her, shall we say, spiritual home, and I daresay, the country she was most happy in (if 'happy' is indeed an apt term to use in connection with Romy Schneider whose much troubled life ended way too soon). Today, Romy Schneider is claimed by all three countries - Austria in particular, although she never actually lived there and only one of her parents was Austrian. Her breakthrough as an actress and her biggest success, commercially, took place in Germany.

That said, Romy detested her German films more and more and wanted nothing more than shedding that 'Sissi' image which, so she said herself, "stuck to her like oatmeal". Moreover, the fact that her mother had a house close to Hitler's in Berchtesgaden which is where Romy grew up, tormented her more the older she got. Especially, after she'd moved to France which, after all, suffered heavily under Nazi occupation, never mind that there were a substantial number of collaborators on the French side, too. On the same token, though she made a number of commercially successful films in France, too, and was voted the most popular French actress in 1980 - the directors of the Nouvelle Vague had as little use for her as did their German counterparts.

Alexandra Maria Lara

More recent examples regarding the question of identity include, for instance, Alexandra Maria Lara, who's Romanian-born, but immigrated with her parents to Germany at the age of four. I'm fairly certain that if someone were to ask her how she felt, she'd most probably say German, after all, that's where she's lived for most of her life. And yet, the international media usually calls her a German-Romanian or even a Romanian actress.

Again: It's probably her only that knows how she feels about her national identity or indeed if she has any at all. Is it one's language(s), the passport, the place of birth or the place one grows up in that determines one's national identity? And again - what does it really matter? It seems to, somehow, because be that BBC or most other media, there appears to be an eradicable need to put a country before a person's name, 'the French actress so-and-so', 'the Brazilian director ...' and so on.

Marlene Dietrich

Oddly enough, in the case of Marlene Dietrich it has never been contested that she was German. That's how the German people and the German as well as the international media saw her. However, how did Dietrich see it? How did she define herself? Did she at all? Though I suppose she must have done, for it was upon her own request that her body was buried in Berlin, though one could also rightly argue that the place of burial says equally little about one's national identity (though that would make Romy Scheider French, for she's buried in Boissy-Sans-Avoir, the village she'd bought a house in just a few weeks prior to her death).

And yet, Dietrich became an American citizen in 1939 - and never gave up her American citizenship, not even after her move to France in the mid-1970s - and following her departure for the US in 1930, she only returned to Germany on a couple of occasions: twice before the war, and twice after the war. So surely, one's passport or citizenship say as little about a person's national identity as everything else.

Anyhow, both would make, say, Fatih Akin a great deal more German than Dietrich could ever wish to be for Akin was born in Hamburg - where he's lived all his life - and has a German passport, though Fatih Akin, too, is frequently - and I believe incorrectly - introduced by the (international) media as German-Turkish. Whether he sees himself as German or German-Turkish I don't know. To me, he's German.

Fatih Akin

The question of one's national identity, brought to the fore with the emergence of the nation state, seems to become increasingly difficult to define in the globalised world of the 21st century. As the world has become smaller, it has made people across the globe more mobile. The UK of today regards itself as an 'immigrant country', so do many in Germany view their own country where close to 25% of the population have an immigrant background (e.g.one or both parents are of foreign descent). Whether this fact makes the issue of national identity redundant is open for discussion. It certainly contributed to rekindle nationalist movements across Europe that strive to emphasise particular values they believe to be indigenous to a certain people by excluding others.

While it cannot be denied that there are things, traits, and customs that may be labelled typically French or typically German or whatever, perhaps with immigrants accounting for a substantial part of a population in countries across the globe, national identities have become more supple, less rigid, and therefore they need, I believe, to be redefined.

That, of course, still doesn't answer the question whether Michael Haneke (or Romy Schneider) are German or Austrian or even French. But, as I suggested earlier, perhaps in this day and age, it simply no longer matters. Or, if anything, it's a question everyone has to answer for themselves.

Cannes Film Festival 2012 - The Winners

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Sun, 27 May 2012 17:59:00 +0000

FEATURE FILMS Palme d'Or

AMOUR (LOVE) directed by Michael HANEKE

Grand Prix

REALITY directed by Matteo GARRONE

Award for Best Director

Carlos REYGADAS for POST TENEBRAS LUX

Award for Best Screenplay

Cristian MUNGIU for DUPÃ DEALURI (BEYOND THE HILLS)

Award for Best Actress

Cristina FLUTUR in DUPÃ DEALURI (BEYOND THE HILLS) directed by Cristian MUNGIU, Cosmina STRATAN in DUPÃ DEALURI (BEYOND THE HILLS) directed by Cristian MUNGIU

Award for Best Actor

Mads MIKKELSEN in JAGTEN (THE HUNT) directed by Thomas VINTERBERG

Jury Prize

THE ANGELS' SHARE directed by Ken LOACH

SHORT FILMS

Palme d'Or - Short Film

SESSIZ-BE DENG (SILENT) directed by L.Rezan YESILBAS

Marilyn Monroe - The Biography, By Donald Spoto

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Mon, 21 May 2012 11:05:00 +0000

This August (4 August, to be precise) exactly 50 years ago, Marilyn Monroe died in circumstances which to this day don't cease to invite and inspire the wildest and most unlikely conspiracy theories. 20 years ago, the acclaimed film historian Donald Spoto intended to put an end to them once and for all by writing the definitive book on Monroe by shedding new light on the mystery surrounding her demise.

The title Donald Spoto chose for his study on the greatest and arguably most famous movie star in history, is very apt indeed - The Biography - for it suggests that it is the only one around which, of course, it isn't. In fact, there are scads of books on Monroe available, more, probably, than on any other Hollywood star, though the emphasis is on book. For what's commonly available on Monroe has little to do with any biography - let alone one that is well researched and based on empirical data - notwithstanding the fact that their authors take great pains to pass them off as such. Unsurprisingly, the majority of these books are little more than thinly veiled attempts to cash in on the Monroe legend or to be precise, on the mystery surrounding her death. Thus they abound in conspiracy theories by adding fuel to the rumours, claims, and accounts regarding an alleged affair between Monroe and Robert Kennedy, an affair, which Spoto exhaustively proves actually never happened.

Spoto covers Monroe's life over nearly 700 pages. Having read other books by him before (on Hitchcock and Crawford) I hoped that this one, too, would be equally thoroughly researched and critical by also betraying his respect and admiration for the book's subject. My hopes weren't disappointed. If anything, the quality of Spoto's study - a word I deliberately employ here as the much overused term biography doesn't do it justice given the impressive research that evidently went into his book - on Monroe even exceeds his other works. That might have to do, first of all, with the fact that Spoto is a great admirer of Monroe, something which is clearly obvious by reading the book and which is something I consider to be a prerequisite for such an undertaking. For why bother, otherwise? Secondly, as a pre eminent film historian, Spoto must have been well aware of all the countless inaccuracies and the often calculated, exploitative fiction, that have been published on Monroe and her tragic life over the years, and decided she deserved the truth to finally be brought to light.

Coming from any writer other than Spoto, a title as this - The Biography - might easily come across as sophomoric or braggy. But this being Spoto, the book more than lives up to the title's promise. It is a biography worthy of the name. And it is indeed the biography. To say it bluntly, having read several others on Monroe myself, this is the only one worth reading. The definitive study on her. Comprehensibly, Spoto does away with murky murder and conspiracy theories which might make could copy, but which have little to do with the truth which, it should be added, is actually far sadder and far more tragic than the many myths, lies and half-truths that have been circulating for half a century. These might have filled the pockets of some of their creators, but they were of no service to Monroe, who deserved better than this. In fact, what these ruthless peddlers of rumours have been doing precisely mirrors what many of the people Monroe was surrounded by during her lifetime did: using her for their own self-serving purposes, this is especially true for her shrink, the infamous Dr. Greenson, and Monroe's housekeeper, Eunice Murray who, as Spoto suggests, was little more than Greenson's stooge.

Rather than relying on previous accounts and books published on the subject, Spoto based his study solely on empirical data, letters, documents, and oral histories to recapitulate Monroe's life and demise. Starting as far back as her great grandfather, he also refutes those who claim that Monroe's biological family had a history of mental illness. Therefore, Spoto's book was a revelation in more than just one way. For instance, Spoto also amply demonstrates that far from being depressed during her last weeks, as generally believed, Monroe was in fact in great spirits, looking forward to a future, 'she couldn't wait to begin' as she told a close friend verbatim. Having bought into the 'constantly late', 'hopelessly depressed', and the 'perennially drugged' latter-day Monroe myself, I also often wondered how the footage of her last - uncompleted - film, Something's Got to Give, could be so wonderful, virtually flawless and promising. Spoto has the answer: it was a fabrication by 20th Century Fox which sought to abandon a much troubled film project whose script, for instance, had never been completed. So why not make use of the film's star and put the blame on her, especially since her travails had already been well covered by the press and thus easily believable.

A clip from Something's Got to Give (George Cukor, 20th Century Fox, 1962, uncompleted)

Spoto uncovers all the lies and myths bit by bit and credibly exposes them for what they are. However, what's as astonishing as it is annoying is that his effort notwithstanding, these lies and myths are very persistent. They have a way of sticking like oatmeal, refusing to go away. The answer as to why they do is the same as to why they emerged in the first place: because it makes for better copy. Why destroy the myth and legend, since it's so much more exciting and exotic than the truth, which, if anything, is nothing but sordid. And terribly and utterly sad.

For anyone truly interested in the life of Marilyn Monroe and the circumstances that led to her demise almost exactly 50 years ago, this is the book to read - if you haven't done so already.

For anyone who's after melodramatic, hair-raising murder mysteries, I'd recommend, say, Robert Ludlum.

Downton Abbey, Season 1 + 2, UK 2010 - 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Thu, 10 May 2012 09:24:00 +0000

It seems that there isn't really much point talking about Downton Abbey as its success - primarily, though far from exclusively, in the UK and in the US - has triggered a plethora of responses and reactions in the form of blogs, websites, and so on, its reception having been overwhelmingly positive resulting in a string of Golden Globe, BAFTA and Emmy wins. As someone who watches as little television as possible it probably took me longer than most people to fall under Downton Abbey's spell. And being one of the world's greatest Maggie Smith aficionados, my main reason for watching it in the first place - on DVD - was naturally to see her camp it up in the role of the Dowager Countess Violet Grantham who, basically, is a reprise of Maggie's equally iconic Constance Trentham in Gosford Park (UK/ US 2002).

That expression - to camp it up - probably makes a lot of people cringe, and rightly so, in a way, for it seems to belittle - however unintentionally - Smith's considerable acting skills as campness may be the (part-)result of her performance, but I'm well aware that this performance is far too nuanced to be merely dismissed as camp. Nevertheless, the programme's other qualities notwithstanding, Smith is indeed the highlight of it - to me, anyway - and I look forward to every moment she comes on (which, sadly, isn't often enough, as far as I'm concerned as hers is a supporting role). However, with Downton Abbey being full of drama, betrayal, and intrigue - Smith adds the necessary comic relief, the spice, or put differently, she's the cream in the coffee.

Luckily, some fellow Maggie Smith aficionado (from GPB, it seems) has put together these two wonderful collections of the Dowager Countess' most outrageous - and camp! - remarks:

In case you hadn't been familiar with the Dowager Countess' wit, you now are, and will agree, I presume, that Smith alone is worth the watch.

And having just finished watching both seasons virtually in a single week myself, I must admit that it does make for addictive viewing. That is, if you're into English heritage films in the mould of The Remains of the Day, Room With A View and especially Gosford Park and Upstairs, Downstairs. Like Gosford Park, Downton Abbey was also the brainchild of Julian Fellowes and it is quite a wonderful and accomplished continuation thereof. Never mind that Downton Abbey, being a television show, has to comply with saleable television rules including, for instance, revealing titbits of an emerging scandal right at the end of one episode to keep the viewers on tenterhooks, and similar such television gimmicks. Nevertheless, Fellowes does manage to keep it in check, though he does so better in the first season than in the second which occasionally does bear traces - if ever so faint - of Dynasty and Dallas, when, for instance, a character believed to have perished in the Titanic disaster miraculously re-emerges. It is owed to the outstanding acting talent of literally the entire cast that highly improbable plot-lines as these still come across as - vaguely - plausible.

In fact, one of the fascinating things about Downton Abbey is exactly that: that seemingly out of nowhere a great many actors and actresses of outstanding talent have emerged who substantially add to the show's quality and merit. Naturally, they didn't just emerge - looking at their screen credits actually shows that they've been around for some time. It took meaty roles in a high-profile show such as Downton Abbey, however, to adequately showcase their talent. I do hope that in the future we'll be seeing a great deal more of the likes of Joanne Froggat, Lesley Nicol, and Michelle Dockery, to name but a few - and please, this time on the big screen!

Downton Abbey has 16 major characters, and that Fellowes successfully manages to breathe life into all of them, as it were, is an achievement in itself. Of course, he's already more than proved his mettle in that regard with Gosford Park. However, Gosford Park was a feature film and though at nearly 140 minutes a rather long one, to keep the lives of 16 and more characters going for over two seasons, is no mean feat, to say the least.

Apparently, due to the programme's enormous success, a third season is currently in the making, to be aired in 2013. Probably to cater to Downton Abbey's growing popularity in the US, Shirley Maclaine has been brought on board to play Cora's - Elizabth McGovern's Lady Grantham - mother.

Talk about shrewd casting!

My imagination is already running riot when I think of MacLaine's wealthy American heiress having tea with the Dowager Countess. I predict, we'll be in for a treat!

Cannes Film Festival 2012 - Official Programme

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Thu, 03 May 2012 12:43:00 +0000

The Cannes Film Festival, which opens on May 16 and runs until May 27 has announced its official programme, including all sections.

2012 marking the 50th anniversary of Marilyn Monroe's tragic death, the festival opted for an image of her, blowing out candles on a birthday cake to celebrate the festival's own 65th anniversary.

The programme reads like a mildly interesting and inspired selection with surprisingly few US but a predictably high number of French entries, and an unsurprising sheer total absence of German entries, German films having become an increasingly rare sight at the Cannes Film Festival. This year, there is but one (German film) to be found in the entire programme, Fatih Akin's Garbage in the Garden of Eden. A debacle which few, if any, in Germany's film industry are willing to face up to. Bestowing an award at last week's German Film Awards ceremony in Berlin that country's Cultural Minister of State, Bernd Neumann, blithely proclaimed that "German films are now part and parcel of all film festivals around the globe". It's either that Neumann doesn't know what he's talking about (in which case he'd be in the wrong job), or he's trying to pull the wool over the eyes of Germany's tax payers who, after all, make that country's (less than profitable) film industry possible in the first place as it is primarily based on state subsidies. Or else, he's suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer's (and in this case, too, stepping down from his job would be highly recommended!).

IN COMPETITION

Opening Film

Wes ANDERSON	MOONRISE KINGDOM	1h34

	***

Jacques AUDIARD	DE ROUILLE ET D'OS (RUST AND BONE)	1h55

Leos CARAX	HOLY MOTORS	1h50

David CRONENBERG	COSMOPOLIS	1h45

Lee DANIELS	THE PAPERBOY	1h41

Andrew DOMINIK	KILLING THEM SOFTLY	1h40

Matteo GARRONE	REALITY	1h50

Michael HANEKE	AMOUR (LOVE)	2h06

John HILLCOAT	LAWLESS	1h55

HONG Sangsoo	DA-REUN NA-RA-E-SUH (IN ANOTHER COUNTRY)	1h28

IM Sang-soo	DO-NUI MAT (THE TASTE OF MONEY)	1h53

Abbas KIAROSTAMI	LIKE SOMEONE IN LOVE	1h49

Ken LOACH	THE ANGELS' SHARE	1h46

Sergei LOZNITSA	V TUMANE (IN THE FOG)	2h07

Cristian MUNGIU	DUPÃ DEALURI (BEYOND THE HILLS)	2h35

Yousry NASRALLAH	BAAD EL MAWKEAA (AFTER THE BATTLE)	1h56

Jeff NICHOLS	MUD	2h15

Alain RESNAIS	VOUS N'AVEZ ENCORE RIEN VU (YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHIN' YET!)	1h55

Carlos REYGADAS	POST TENEBRAS LUX	1h40

Walter SALLES	ON THE ROAD	2h20

Ulrich SEIDL	PARADIES : Liebe (PARADISE : Love)	2h00

Thomas VINTERBERG	JAGTEN (THE HUNT)	1h46


	***
Film to be screened at the Closing Ceremony

Claude MILLER	THÉRÈSE DESQUEYROUX (Out of Comp.)	1h50

UN CERTAIN REGARD

Opening Film

LOU Ye	MYSTERY	1h30

	***

Ashim AHLUWALIA	MISS LOVELY First film	1h50

Juan Andrés ARANGO	LA PLAYA DC First film	1h30

Aida BEGIC	DJECA (CHILDREN OF SARAJEVO)	1h30

Nabil AYOUCH	LES CHEVAUX DE DIEU (GOD'S HORSES)	1h55

Catherine CORSINI	TROIS MONDE	1h40

Brandon CRONENBERG	ANTIVIRAL First film	1h50

Benicio DEL TORO, Pablo TRAPERO, Julio MEDEM, Elia SULEIMAN, Juan Carlos TABIO, Gaspard NOÉ et Laurent CANTET	7 DIAS EN LA HABANA	2h09

Benoit DELÉPINE, Gustave KERVERN	LE GRAND SOIR	1h32

Xavier DOLAN	LAURENCE ANYWAYS	2h41

Michel FRANCO	DESPUÉS DE LUCIA	1h33

Joachim LAFOSSE	À PERDRE LA RAISON	1h54

Adam LEON	GIMME THE LOOT 1st film	1h24

Darezhan OMIRBAYEV	STUDENT	1h30

Moussa TOURE	LA PIROGUE (THE PIROGUE)	1h27

Pablo TRAPERO	ELEFANTE BLANCO (WHITE ELEPHANT)	2h00

Sylvie VERHEYDE	CONFESSION OF A CHILD OF THE CENTURY	2h05

Koji WAKAMATSU	11.25 JIKETSU NO HI, MISHIMA YUKIO TO WAKAMONOTACHI (11/25 THE DAY MISHIMA CHOSE HIS OWN FATE)	2h00

Benh ZEITLIN	BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD First film	1h32


	***
Film to be screened at the Closing Ceremony

Gilles BOURDOS	RENOIR	1H53

OUT OF COMPETITION

Bernardo BERTOLUCCI	IO E TE (ME AND YOU)	1h37

Eric DARNELL, Tom MCGRATH, Conrad VERNON	MADAGASCAR 3, EUROPE'S MOST WANTED	1h30

Philip KAUFMAN	HEMINGWAY & GELLHORN	2h34



MIDNIGHT SCREENINGS

Dario ARGENTO	DARIO ARGENTO'S DRACULA	1h46

Wayne BLAIR	THE SAPPHIRES 1st film	1h38

Franck KHALFOUN	MANIAC	1h40

Takashi MIIKE	AI TO MAKOTO	2h14


65TH ANNIVERSARY

	UNE JOURNÉE PARTICULIÈRE by Gilles Jacob and Samuel Faure	53'

SPECIAL SCREENINGS

Fatih AKIN	DER MÜLL IM GARTEN EDEN (POLLUTING PARADISE)	1h25

Candida BRADY	TRASHED 1st film	1h40

Laurent BOUZEREAU	ROMAN POLANSKI : A FILM MEMOIR	1h34

Ken BURNS, Sarah BURNS, David MCMAHON	THE CENTRAL PARK FIVE	2h00

Sébastien LIFSHITZ	LES INVISIBLES	1h55

Claudine NOUGARET, Raymond DEPARDON	JOURNAL DE FRANCE	1h40

Nelson PEREIRA DOS SANTOS	A MUSICA SEGUNDO TOM JOBIM	1h30

Gonzalo TOBAL	VILLEGAS First film	1h36

Apichatpong WEERASETHAKUL	MEKONG HOTEL	1h01

German Film Awards 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 10:44:00 +0000

Last night, the German Film Academy held their annual award ceremony at Berlin's Friedrichstadt Palace.

Here is the list of winners:

I I I Best Feature Film - GoldHALT AUF FREIER STRECKE (Stopped On Track), producers: Peter Rommel – Rommel Film – directed by: Andreas Dresen

I I I Best Feature Film - SilverBARBARA, producers: Florian Koerner von Gustorf, Michael Weber – Schramm Film Koerner & Weber – directed by: Christian Petzold

I I I Best Feature Film - BronzeKRIEGERIN (Combat Girls), producers: Eva-Marie Martens, René Frotscher – Mafilm Martens Filmund Fernsehproduktion – directed by: David Wnendt

I I I Best DocumentaryGERHARD RICHTER PAINTING, producers: Thomas Kufus – zero one film – directed by: Corinna Belz

I I I Best ScreenplayDavid Wnendt KRIEGERIN (Combat Girls)

I I I Best DirectorAndreas Dresen HALT AUF FREIER STRECKE (Stopped On Track)

I I I Best ActressAlina Levshin KRIEGERIN (Combat Girls)

I I I Best ActorMilan Peschel HALT AUF FREIER STRECKE (Stopped On Track)

I I I Best Supporting Actress Dagmar Manzel DIE UNSICHTBARE (The Invisible)

I I I Best Supporting ActorOtto Mellies HALT AUF FREIER STRECKE (Stopped On Track)

I I I Best CinematographyAnna J. Foerster ANONYMOUS

I I I Best EditingPeter R. Adam ANONYMOUS

I I I Best Production DesignSebastian Krawinkel ANONYMOUS

I I I Best Costume DesignLisy Christl ANONYMOUS

I I I Best Make-UpBjörn Rehbein, Heike Merker ANONYMOUS

I I I Best ScoreLorenz Dangel HELL

I I I Best Sound EditingHubert Bartholomae, Manfred Banach ANONYMOUS

I I I Honorary AwardMichael Ballhaus

I I I Bernd Eichinger AwardMichael Bully Herbig

Alina Levshin, receiving the Lola Award last night for her portrayal of a Neo-Nazi in Combat Girls

Andreas Dresen, Alina Levshin, and Milan Peschel last night at Berlin's Friedrichstadt Palace

My Week With Marilyn, Simon Curtis, UK/ US 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 07:38:00 +0000

My Week With Marilyn is a vain effort, I'm afraid; a film that would have been better left unfilmed. It's not that it's a particularly bad film, no, it simply isn't one that benefits anyone, neither the viewer, nor the participants, nor its subject, one of (film-)history's greatest legends, and one of the most talked about, photographed, and fatally misunderstood women of all time.

My Week With Marilyn is based on the book by Colin Clark, who collaborated with Monroe on her UK adventure, The Prince and the Showgirl back in 1957. As always with personal accounts such as memoirs and autobiographies, they have to be taken with a pinch of salt, especially when they've been written decades after the fact. Again, this doesn't automatically make them bad reading material. After all, there are many reasons why one may choose to read a book, any book, biographies and memoirs included, and factual accuracy is but one of them. The same, by the way, goes for movies, too. A movie which is based on a particular event in history may be enjoyed for all sorts of reasons other than its historical accuracy. After all, cinematography, dialogue, acting, costumes, and so on, contribute a great deal to the finished product.

However, I'm afraid to say that My Week With Marilyn has little to offer in that respect as the film's production values are average at best. Moreover, its title already bears so much promise and anticipation - my week with Marilyn - that really, that is what the viewer expects. But there's not much there, either. At least for those who are remotely familiar with the life of the famous lady in question as her life, moves, antics, ups and downs, and so on, are probably better documented than that of any other movie star. Put differently, whether the budding love story between Monroe and Clark happened such as it is portrayed in the movie is something I don't know, of course. Nevertheless, the way it is portrayed is uninspired, though, to be fair, I'm not sure if given its subject-matter, there would have been a better, more adequate, way to tackle it.

Michelle Williams has the thankless task of portraying the most famous woman in motion picture history, one whose image, looks, and so on, have become part of our collective memory. But besides the sheer impossibility of doing justice to the person in question - as well as to our image of her - impersonating Monroe is a particularly tricky undertaking for she had what some claim amounted to a love affair between herself and the camera. Directors who worked with Monroe spoke of a 'frightened girl, terrified to go in front of the camera', 'a relatively plain beauty', 'a good actress, and a much better comedienne' - never mind that she was much underrated, and more often than not, typecast as the dumb blonde - in other words, nothing about Monroe was all that different from other actresses, let alone hinted at the phenomenon that she'd go on to outshine any of her colleagues, past and present.

Yet, in the transformation from celluloid to screen something happened. A transformation in Monroe. Suddenly there was magic. She radiated, illuminated, the screen. She had presence - in a way that is extremely rare, even among the greatest of actresses. Thus, for any actress attempting to live up to that is a challenge, to say the least, and even one as talented as Williams must have known what she's up against.

This is exemplified at the film's beginning, though I'm sure inadvertently so, when we witness Colin watching a contemporary screening of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. At first, we only hear music of what we instantly recognise to be the first bars of Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend. Colin seems mesmerised, and so are we, until the camera pans from Colin's face to the screen and we realise that he's in fact watching Williams playing Monroe rather than Monroe herself. My jaw dropped instantly, and I cannot believe the director didn't know that this was the effect this scene was going to provoke in any viewer who's ever seen Monroe on screen - which means practically everybody - especially in that particular scene! Why Curtis didn't simply keep the camera on Colin's mesmerised face in a long take close-up, capturing his emotions while watching Monroe, leaving the rest up to the viewer's imagination, is anybody's guess. This clumsiness by the director is one of the gravest flaws in the film for looking at Williams doing Monroe's signature number it remains unfathomable to the viewer why Colin should be mesmerised. But this obviously is precisely what this scene was supposed to establish, for the whole premise of My Week With Marilyn hinges on Colin's infatuation with Marilyn, on his being caught in the rapture of her magic. Alas, what we see is bereft of any magic whatsoever. And if we're unable to believe him, relate to him - the whole film falls apart.

Though Miss Williams undeniably is one of the best actresses of her generation - live up to Monroe she doesn't. Can't.

Having not read Clark's book, I'm of course unable to judge it. The film, though, is neither good nor is it particularly bad. It simply is one that is forgotten the minute you leave the theatre. And that is about the worst thing you can say about any film.

Martha Marcy May Marlene, Sean Durkin, US 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 15:57:00 +0000

Martha Marcy May Marlene is an off-beat psychological thriller revolving around a young woman, Martha, who, at the beginning of the film, we see fleeing from what looks like some Arcadian commune up in the Catskill Mountains.

She gets picked up by what we learn is her sister, Lucy, who is much older than Martha. Through their mutual conversations, we learn that both sisters share a difficult past, culminating in the death of their mother and with Lucy being older, she is riddled by feelings of guilt for not having looked after Martha the way she feels she should have.

This may be the reason why Martha was such easy prey for the Arcadian commune which, as it is revealed through Martha's dreams and nightmares that simultaneously serve as flashbacks for the viewer, is not Arcadian at all, but rather a cult not dissimilar to the Manson Family.

It was, however, during her stay with the cult that Martha was given the name Marcy May, for its leader, Patrick, thought that this is how she looks, a Marcy May. Though initially Martha feels quite at home in the group and has an easy time settling in, incidents of pointless, random, violence instigated by Patrick, put her off, eventually causing her to flee.

Yet, the group has nevertheless left its mark on Martha for apart from being haunted by nightmares, she also has considerable trouble adjusting to the life as led by Lucy and her husband, two upwardly mobile, moneyed, New Yorkers with a sprawling weekend getaway in Connecticut, which is were the better part of the film is set.

Haunted, revolted by her life with the cult, yet at the same time strangely drawn to it, one day Martha calls the group without disclosing her identity. The phone is answered with Marlene Lewis, and it is through a later flashback that it becomes clear that this is the codename used by all women from the cult in order to protect their identity.

As Martha acts increasingly strange, if not to say, violent, towards her sister and her husband, they decide to seek professional help. Surprisingly, Martha agrees. However, as they're driving off the next day to the institution Lucy and her husband selected, it seems that a car is following them. And with Martha continuously looking back, it is suggested that it may be Patrick or another cult member who's tailing them. If so, their intentions are equally up in the open. Whether they may just abduct Martha or whether they may kill Lucy and her husband just as cold bloodedly the way we saw them killing a random man earlier in the film, is up to the viewer to decide or imagine. With its slow, subtle, build-up, the film as a whole is rather disturbing, reaching its climax, as it were, in this unsettling ending.

Martha Marcy May Marlene is not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, psycho thriller, which is why it's one of the better ones I've seen in recent years. Durkin understands the mechanisms of what scares us to a 't'. The answer is as simple as it is ingenious: that, which we don't know. It's the old fear of the unknown. Film and real life are very much alike in that respect.

Consequently, Durkin sends us home guessing about certain twists and turns in his film - to say noting of its ending! It is precisely because he's left so many questions unanswered, and the fact that we have to piece parts of the film together in our minds that we're left with a feeling of unease and trepidation.

And what more can you expect from a psychological thriller?

Et si on vivait tous ensemble?, Stephane Robelin, France 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 19:16:00 +0000

Et si on vivait tous ensmble? is a light, entertaining comedy about the pitfalls of getting old, much along the lines of Bette Davis' adage that old age ain't no place for sissies.

A bunch of elderly people - friends, who've known each other for decades - decide that it would be best for all concerned if they lived together. What follows is that after the pitfalls of getting old (and sick - Alzheimer' Cancer, etc.), we're now privy to the pitfalls of being old and living in a house-share. Robelin's film is not so much a revelation or a hilarious comedy as it is a film which besides attracting an audience above the age 20 (a rarity in today's film production!), addresses a topic which has never received a great deal of attention from film makers - getting old - probably because it's something none of wants to dwell on for too long, secretly hoping probably, that by ignoring the topic it'll go away or at least, spare us. Thing is, it won't, and the best thing - besides assembling such a stellar cast of actors! - that can be said about Robelin's film is that it does confront us with this admittedly uncomfortable question. And yet the example in the film clearly demonstrates that there are indeed alternatives to spending one's last remaining years whithering away alone and forsaken in a nursing home ... and who ever set foot - or volunteered - in nursing home knows, that ending there is indeed something that must be avoided at all cost. After facing the fact that living alone is no longer an option, but nor is checking into a nursing home, Chaplin, Fonda & Co. opt for a very viable, not to mention much more humane, alternative which, hopefully, will be widely replicated across the world in the years to come.

About the stellar cast. I've always been an admirer of both Chaplin and Fonda, and not just because they're both great actresses and great and gracious personalities. Moreover, they are prime examples of what's referred to as ageing gracefully. There are no faces distorted by Botox here, nor any other facial or otherwise physical alteration that suggests plastic surgery. Both actresses have their share of wrinkles - but they look all the better and all the more real for it! It enables them not only to still get roles, but to play roles that are worthy of their talent - and age.

I just wish, some of those faded Hollywood Divas who've since turned into veritable freaks would have taken their cue from Fonda and Chaplin before they had their faces and bodies tinkered with, butchered and mutilated beyond recognition!

Take Shelter, Jeff Nichols, US 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 18:28:00 +0000

Told in a nutshell, Take Shelter is the story of the end of the world according to the film's male lead, Curtis LaForche, played by Michael Shannon. As such, it is very much a film whose narrative neatly fits into our time, so much riddled by angst as a result of universal economic instability and an increasing number of environmental disasters.

Curtis has been having nightmares that are more like premonitions. These nightmares are cleverly woven into the narrative, leaving the viewer guessing at first, if what's happening on screen is, in fact, real, or just the result of Curtis' imagination. A man of few words, Curtis is very reluctant to share his visions with anyone for fear of not being taken seriously. It is only when as a consequence of his nightmares he starts acting more and more peculiar that he decides to seek professional help.

But none of the shrinks and counsellors he consults see Curtis' nightmares as anything but just that - nightmares - unable, or unwilling, to read anything into them, let alone visions of a looming Apocalypse. Things go from bad to worse, but it is primarily Curtis' little world that by and by begins to fall apart rather than the world as a whole. Which is why we, the viewers, too, are also at a loss right up to the film's end, whether it is really Curtis who's gone off the rails or if indeed the world as a whole is heading towards disaster.

What makes Nichols' film outstanding and lifts it more than just a few notches above similar such apocalyptic visions are the pacing and, even more remarkably, the fact that Nichols succeeds in creating suspense by relying almost entirely on his story, his actors, and the cinematography. In other words, this ain't a disaster movie of the usual kind, which abound in special effects, death and destruction. There is literally none of that in Take Shelter.

That, however, is precisely what makes Nichols' particularly disturbing, because it's almost too real for comfort.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, John Madden, UK 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Mon, 26 Mar 2012 15:42:00 +0000

John Madden's latest offering pretty much offers what one would expect from the director who gave us Shakespeare In Love, Captain Corelli's Mandolin and Mrs. Brown. My own personal favourite of the lot is the latter, though Mrs. Brown may be slightly atypical for a John Madden flick inasmuch as it's less upbeat than, say, Shakespeare in Love, to say nothing of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel which is the ultimate upbeat, feel-good movie experience if there ever was one!

A motley bunch of British retirees from various walks of life but with one thing in common - a lack of funds - gather at The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel for that very reason: a dearth of the necessary funds to retire in dignity in their home country makes them opt for India instead. Their adjustment to their new home - or the refusal thereof - varies depending on their background. Judi Dench's Evelyn, whose late husband squandered away their money, a fact she only learns about once he's left for the eternal hunting grounds, adjusts more easily than the rest of the lot and seems a great deal more open to the pleasures and possibilities - as well as the pitfalls - of their new surroundings. Running a blog, which she originally started as a means to keep in touch with her family back in the UK, it is mainly through Evelyn's eyes - and words - that we, the viewers, get the run-down of the India experience of her and her fellow retirees first hand. It is also Evelyn, who, with her sometimes wise, sometimes utterly banal, blog entries, keeps the movie at its upbeat, feel-good pitch. Therefore, Dench is the one to provide the smiles.

However, it is Maggie Smith who provides the laughs. And uproarious ones at that! As the one who's most reluctant to leave her beloved England with all its biscuits and builder's tea behind, she's at her most uproarious, politically incorrect, hilarious, best! Her lines simply had me in stitches! To be perfectly honest, a movie this frothy and - dare I say it - at times, syrupy - would have benefited a great deal had there been more of Smith. And I'm not just saying it because I'm probably her biggest fan. No, it's just that she's the spice - the red hot chilli - in a dish that's otherwise a little too sweet for my liking. But hey, I admit that if I was able to make a wish, I'd like a DVD with all of Maggie Smith's scenes from California Suite, Gosford Park, A Private Function, Sister Act, and The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, cut in a row! Why, it would mean hours and hours of sheer endless laughter and first-class amusement by the world's prime comedienne, or how I choose to refer to her - the Goddess of Camp!

German Film Now

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Sun, 11 Mar 2012 16:02:00 +0000

If the German Competition entries at the recently concluded Berlin Film Festival are anything to go by, German Cinema is in a sorry state. OK, sorry may perhaps be too strong a word, but compared to other countries - European and otherwise - Germany has little cause for celebration. Certainly, if the seventh art was a reflection of a country's economic might, Germany would be much closer to its nemesis, Greece. Having had lunch recently with a friend, a Berlin-based film producer, though one who's involved in international co-productions only, she seconded my assumption. However, she also demurred that those in Germany's film scene who see it this way are few and far between. In other words, you ask any German (film maker), and he'll tell you that German film is alive and well. But if you ask anybody outside Germany, they're bound to tell you that the last time they saw a German film was probably when Fatih Akin's On The Other Side received rave reviews the world over, but especially in France.

Now why is that, I wonder? How come that in spite of the relatively high annual output of home-grown fare, only a mere handful of films - if that - are actually doing well on their home turf. Equally pitiful is the number of those that receive a foreign release, to say nothing of the fact that year by year goes by with the Cannes and the Venice Film Festivals snubbing Germany yet again, choosing not to include any German entry for their Competitions. Countries like the UK, the US, Italy, Turkey, and of course, France, regularly have films in the Competition of both Cannes and Venice without fail. Not so Germany.

The problem, in my opinion, is three-fold, really. On the one hand, there's a quality problem. Then there's a box-office problem. And lastly, there's the problem of delusion, for as I said above, few in Germany are aware of the sad state that country's film industry is in, preferring to be in denial over it. Yet all I can say is: Just look at the three German entries at this year's Berlin Film Festival and look at the French, British, and American entries at Cannes and Venice in recent years and the problem becomes very evident indeed. While film makers such as Ken Loach, Andrea Arnold, Steve McQueen, Terrence Malick, Michael Hazanavicius, Nuri Bilge Ceylan, and so on are taking a critical look at the world around us or are reinventing the cinematic language, the three German films at the last Berlin Film Fest (Gnade, Barbara, Was bleibt), were little more than self-gratifying, parochial dramas at the expense of Germany's tax-payers, for needless to say - those films were entirely made with subsidies. I'm inclined to add that these subsidies would be put to better use if invested in Greece rather than in films no one's ever going to see because their topics are of little concern to anyone but their film makers. I have no idea how exactly that country's subsidy system works, but its seems to me it is either as corrupt as, it appears, quite a few of that country's politicians or else, the people who make the decisions over who does and who doesn't get any money for his latest masturbation exercise - excuse my French! - are hopelessly incompetent.

Needless to say, all three films received rave reviews in Germany (and admittedly some decent ones by foreign reviewers), and one well known German film critic whose name need not be mentioned, even went so far as to predict that all three German Competition entries surely would end up garnering all major awards at the Fest, a view which was shared by few others, I might add. In the end, only one major award went to a German film, an obligatory Silver Bear for Petzold's Barbara. Every year, one single Silver Bear is habitually awarded to a German film - usually it's the one for Best Actress - so as if the International Jury felt obligated to stroke that country's battered ego. The last time, however, a German film was awarded the Grand Prix - the Golden Bear - was in 2004 when Fatih Akin won for Head On, and that was about the last time a German director submitted a film that was both visually stunning and at the same time had something to say - and to do - with the world which surrounds us.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about the last German film that made it into the Competition at Venice, Tom Tykwer's Three, in 2010. Tykwer's film went more or less unnoticed, hence I was not a little surprised when it received excellent write-ups upon its German opening. And it was this fact which finally prompted me to go and watch it for following the film's negative international reception upon its Venice premiere, in addition to the film's hopelessly dated topic, I had no intentions of watching it at first. But once I'd seen it, I was seriously asking myself what prompted Tykwer to shoot this film, a film which showed a Berlin with no immigrants and whose protagonist exclaims at one point, "Islam and all that may just as well disappear!", and where the fact that a man has an ex-marital affair with another man is made such a fuss over. Back to the 1950s, is all I thought. Why this film of all films received this kind of a critical accolade on its home turf - including a string of German Film Academy Awards nods - is anybody's guess.

Most probably, the recent output of German film makers is a reflection of what's going on inside that country. And looking at the way the Greek Tragedy is being discussed in the German media, the positive reception of Mr. Sarrazin's highly questionable and controversial book, not to mention the way in which Germany's outgoing president was being chased out of office in a witch-hunt the likes of which had not been seen since McCarthy was US Senator, I can't help but thinking that yes, that country may well be looking backwards instead of forwards. Back to the 1950s! Which again reminded me of a recent Tagesspiegel article by Zafer Senocak in which he decries just that, the way in which the Germany of today is a lot less open-minded and forward looking than the (West-) Germany of the 1980s.

If the films churned out by Germany's film makers in recent years are anything to go by, Mr. Senocak does have a very valid point indeed. However, the question is - why? And more importantly, why are so few - if any - in Germany see it that way?

Shame, Steve McQueen, UK 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 18:21:00 +0000

I know by now that the trick in life is to not have any expectations whatsoever, but instead to walk into any new experience cold - for obvious reasons. However, as a rule, I'm not very good at this game, as my expectations always tend to be ahead of me, usually emerging way before my brain is able to remind me that having expectations is a bad thing. All this gets especially difficult when it comes to movies: these days, with the information overflow spilling out of iPads, iPhones, televisions, radios, newspapers, magazines and what not, one simply cannot help but picking up the odd titbits here and there on a new movie that's about to be released. And if the movie's supposed to be a good - or even great one - the advance buzz is such that unless you're living like a hermit, cut off from society including its media, your expectations are quite simple bound to soar, whether you like it or not. And so they have as far as I'm concerned in the case of Steve McQueen's new film, Shame.

Have they ever!

As we all know, the higher the expectations, the more difficult it is for the movie to own up to them, and more often than not, I myself end up being disappointed. Now, having seen McQueen's previous film, Hunger, which I'd declared my favourite film of 2008, I don't need to tell you that with all the buzz surrounding Shame's premiere at the Venice Film Festival last September, my expectation were, mildly put, sky-high. And yet - lo and behold, they were not only met, McQueen's masterpiece actually exceeded them.

That's how good his film is!

Good is not quite an apt description, really, for McQueen excels at practically every level, including cinematography, screenplay, editing, and, of course, the acting. But all these merits notwithstanding, the most noteworthy aspect of Shame, in my opinion, is the fact that the film addresses a topic which has so far received scant attention, if any, from film makers. And yet, the topic - somewhat insufficiently described as sex addiction - seems so relevant and prevalent in world where sex is just a click away; a world dominated by media whose main preoccupation seems to be just that: sex.

Like Hunger, Shame is a very visual film, McQueen being a master at using the cinematic medium to the full. In other words, McQueen uses dialogue only where necessary and where what he wants to bring across, cannot be told through images. All the better, then, that Shame's main character, Brandon Sullivan, is a man of few words, taciturn at best, a loner, in fact. More often than not he's irritable and on edge, even when he's having sex which, if Brandan's facial expressions while having sex are anything to go by, has little to do with what sex is usually associated with. Obsessive, wild, with a face seemingly contorted by pain, sex to Brendan appears to be more strenuous than something he does out of lust and desire.

Set in New York - which , sorry Mr. Wowereit, still outdoes Berlin in sexiness by a far cry - Brandon's world consists mainly of his manically spotless apartment in Chelsea where, unless he's bedding a hooker, he spends most of his time by the computer doing what any loner does who's socially and emotionally clumsy yet whose only outlet is sex. It has been estimated that two thirds of all Google searches are sex related. And yet, as I said earlier, the topic of sex addiction, including Internet porn, has been strangely neglected by film makers and writers alike. No medium or invention has changed our life and habits to the degree the Internet has. This especially goes for our sex life, although most of us may not even be aware of it. The lure of the Internet, catering to every possible sexual deviation, kink or desire, 24/7, in the privacy of your own home, and just one click away - has arguably changed our sexual habits considerably more than anything else, including the invention of the anti-baby pill or the freedom that came with the sexual liberation of the student movement of the 1960s.

Just to be clear - I am a clear advocate of the Internet and the freedom and accessibility of information it provides, but that doesn't exclude looking at the implications it has had on society at large, particularly at the way we look at sex. The big advantage - or disadvantage, depending on your vantage point - is that the Internet allows you to withdraw into a fantasy world, to shut out reality entirely. To have sex - either with yourself or with somebody via chat or webcam - the Internet doesn't require you to speak or interact. You're free to create your own reality behind the images you see on screen. And it is precisely this fantasy world that is Brandon's realm.

In one of the few scenes in Shame which relies on dialogue and images in equal parts, we see Brandon dating a co-worker, the stunningly beautiful Marianne whose interest in Brandon obviously goes beyond the mere sexual. Brandon, however, proves a poor date. Their conversation is kept alive mainly by Marianne with little input from Brandon. Evidently, Brandon's not one of those who cares to impress his date with his knowledge of food or his expertise when it comes to selecting the wine. Food, wine, like all other things associated with social interaction, play a subordinate role in his life which revolves but around one thing and one thing only. It is with pride, almost, that he admits to Marianne that his longest relationship lasted four months, a record , it seems, she is hoping to break. Even though it has become clear by this point, that Brandon's incapable of intimacy, we, the viewers, hope that Marianne might succeed, regardless - or perhaps because - of the fact that Brandon doesn't take her to bed right after their dinner. He does so, or tries to, anyway, a few days later. However, in order to pretend that Marianne is just another girl he picked up on the way home, he takes her to a hotel instead of taking her home. But to no avail - he is only capable of having sex on a completely anonymous, casual, basis, and his relations with Marianne have already reached a level of nearness and intimacy that make it impossible for him to keep that fantasy alive.

Make no mistake: McQueen does not portray Brandon as a one-dimensional character - sex-crazed, cold, and irritable - but rather as one whose feelings are buried way below, and only occasionally do they rise to the surface. They do, however, in one of the most poignant scenes in Shame, when Brendan's sister, Sissy, gives a devastatingly beautiful rendition of New York, New York. There are few songs I can think of more apt to express optimism, promise and hope for things to come as do the lyrics of this song written by Fred Ebb for Scorsese's 1977 movie of the same title. Sissy's own rendition of New York, New York, though, seems to express exactly the opposite. It reminds us that besides being sexy, New York also is a place where it is probably easier to feel lonely and abandoned than in most other places. Is that why Brandon, listening to his sister, suddenly starts to cry? The only instance in the movie where he is seen expressing his feelings - however involuntarily - in public.

Not meaning to sound pretentious or smug, the central topic of Shame is a very complex one, and it is to McQueen's credit that he doesn't even attempt to psychologically explain Brendan's condition, let alone deliver a full explanation. The only hint he gives us is by means of Sissy, who, towards the film's end leaves a message on her brother's phone saying, "that just because we're coming from a bad place doesn't mean we're bad people!". By this point, though, we just about gathered as much. Love may be a cheesy, much overused term. But it is nevertheless the basis for almost everything. And it doesn't require a great deal of psychological insight to know that the absence of love during childhood is apt to scar anyone and will make it all the harder for the child to later lead a normal life as an adult. However, while what's been lacking during their childhood seems to manifest itself in Sissy in an amplified need for love and intimacy, the opposite is true for Brandon, who is fully incapable of any intimacy, even that offered - and requested - by his own sister.

I have no idea, of course, what Steve McQueen's impetus for his film was. All I know is that Shame is so well observed and told with such empathy, immediacy, intensity and a tremendous level of accuracy - which is nothing short of awesome.

Shame is as disturbing as it is mesmerising. It is, quite simply, one of the most provocative, evocative and most important films I've ever had the privilege of watching.

Meryl

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 09:16:00 +0000

Meryl Streep, arriving at the 84th Annual Academy Awards ceremony last night at the Kodak Theatre in Los Angeles

So finally it happened, at long last, after having been nominated 17 times - including two wins - last night Meryl Streep picked up her third Academy Awards. 29 years after het last win in Alan J. Pakula's Sophie's Choice, in which she also won for Best Actress. 3 years prior, she'd received her first Academy Award, this one in the Best Supporting Actress category for her portrayal as the tormented mother in search of herself in Kramer vs. Kramer.

With 3 wins, Streep is practically in a league of her own. Though not quite ... she joins the likes of Ingrid Bergman, who also received two Best Actress Oscars (Gaslight, Anastasia) and one for a supporting role (Murder in the Orient Express). Ahead of both of them is Katherine Hepburn, who received a total of four Academy Awards, and all of them in the Best Actress category. Streep, though, is the undisputed champion when it comes to nominations. With a total of 17 she's four ahead of Hepburn. Still, it's a pretty exclusive club up there, consisting of a mere three women, all universally acclaimed and admired actresses, who were - are - legends in their own time. Already those actresses that have received two Academy Awards are few and far between. There also is a mere three of them and their names, too, conjure up all kinds of images that have burnt themselves into our collective memory: Liz Taylor, Bette Davis, Jodie Foster.

Three Oscars or four Oscars ... all of these women have written Hollywood history and rightly deserve their place in the Pantheon. However, I can't help feeling sorry for those who've been overlooked - like this year's Ryan Gosling and Michael Fassbender - or those who though picking up nods, kept losing out to their colleagues. One name that springs to mind is of course Glenn Close. She was Streep's biggest competition during the 1980s, receiving five Oscar nominations, mostly in years when Streep was also nominated. When Close's as well as Streep's careers took a nosedive some time in the late 1990s, Close found a new home in television, receiving critical acclaim for her roles in Damages and The Shield. Then, with The Hours Streep's career slowly but steadily took off again and in addition to her loyal following of gay men and middle-aged housewives - those, who were in the student movement when Streep made her first on-screen appearance in Fred Zinneman's Julia and Woody Allen's Manhattan - Streep now also became popular with the generation of their daughters: those who like to shop for Prada shoes or warble Abba songs under the shower. Films like The Devil Wears Prada and Mamma Mia finally made Streep a universal favourite, catapulting her back into the mainstream, made her the household name she always was but few households admitted to be aware of. Streep, today - at 62! - is an international megastar, someone who draws audiences from all walks of life. Just take her appearance at the Berlin Film Festival two weeks ago where she was presented with the Lifetime Achievement Award. Outside the festival theatre thousands of fans - men, women - shouted and screamed and were close to hysteria. Inside, she was showered with standing ovations that lasted several minutes, prompting her in her acceptance speech to quip, "Oh I don't think I'll ever go home again!". The last time an actress of a certain age achieved a similar feat was nearly 80 years ago, when in 1933 the then 64 year old Marie Dressler was voted America's most popular actress.

Streep, receiving her Lifetime Achievement Award - bestowed by Jake Gyllenhall - at the Berlin Film Festival on February 14, 2012

But I got sidetracked ... While Streep (or her agents) managed to turn her career around, the same cannot be said of Close. Until last year. Being offered the lead in Alfred Nobbs was a rare opportunity for Close to once more show off what she's got on the big screen. For her outstanding portryal of a man in 19th century Ireland she was promptly rewarded with a string of awards and nominations, including one by the Academy for Best Actress. However,as luck would have it, once again she's up against Streep. This battle of two great screen icons up for a Best Actress Oscar reminds me of the year 1950, when Bette Davis and Gloria Swanson were both nominated for their roles in you-know-what-I'm-talking-about. In the end, both of them lost ... last night, though, the odds-on-favourite (?) won. Well, it did take long enough, given that Streep's last win was nearly 30 years ago. But I still feel sorry for Glenn Close ...

Possessed - The Life of Joan Crawford, By Donald Spoto

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 17:10:00 +0000

It may seem strange or even hard to believe that in spite of my interest in the history of American cinema I'd never read a biography or critical study on Joan Crawford until picking up Donald Spoto's book on her a few weeks ago. Having read several other of his books before, I knew roughly what to expect. In other words, Spoto knows what he's talking about, knows his Hollywood history, abstains from making undue claims he can't buttress, and tends to rely on a variety sources, including secondary literature, oral histories and empirical data. And indeed, this also applies to his book on Crawford, aptly titled Possessed, which refers to both the title of two of Crawford's movies as well as to that of her traits which best describes her. Possessed makes for compelling, engrossing reading. It is well written, well researched relying as it does on a slew of sources, among them the Joan Crawford papers at Lincoln Center.

What I found most intriguing though, is that in the book's introduction Spoto reveals the impetus not only for writing this book, but for his interest in Joan Crawford in general. For when Spoto was 11 years old, she answered his letter in which he expressed his admiration for her performance in Sudden Fear. As Spoto rightly pointed out, he had no expectation of ever receiving an answer to his, the letter of an 11-year old. Yet, the fact that he did get a reply says a lot about Crawford and the way she pushed herself, obsessed with being the star and remaining one, which included never letting down her fan base by also recruiting new ones, such as 11 year old Donald Spoto.

Aware of the importance and significance of our childhood experiences and memories, I can just imagine the impact Crawford's reply was bound to have on the eleven year old Donald, sparking a life-long fascination for one of the small handful of women - stars - whose names are forever linked with the golden age of Hollywood and which have become synonymous with glamour. Therefore it comes as no surprise that his book is full admiration for its subject. But don't be fooled, his is of course not the out-pour of some gushing fan. Spoto always retains a critical distance by also taking Crawford's detractors into account, including Crawford's adopted daughter Christina's infamous Mommie Dearest. However, where appropriate he disproves her and refutes her claims by providing evidence, usually oral histories of people who knew Crawford personally or professionally.

When after nearly 500 pages you get to the end of Possessed you're left with a biography of a woman in whose life glamour was but one aspect. Above all, Crawford was a hard worker, notoriously hard on herself - much more so than on others - and a woman possessed by perfection and who had trouble telling the woman from the star. Like others of her time - Barbara Stanwyck, Bette Davis - Crawford was the improbable product of the studio system, a system that tolerated no deviation or aberration lest it may damage the star's image and consequently box office receipts. But their, including Crawford's, glamorous image and relatively sudden rise to stardom stood in rank contrast to their modest backgrounds, which included an absent father and an almost complete lack of education, something even the most lavish Adrian gowns never managed to make up for, let alone cover. The result was incredible wealth and fame at the expense of a desolate, ultimately lonely, private life.

Possessed is a fascinating portrait of one of the most fascinating personalities spawned by Hollywood's golden age, one who was so central to the rise of MGM, which in turn was pivotal in the history of American film.

Possessed - The Life of Joan Crawford, by Donald Spoto, Harper Collins, 2010

Berlin Film Festival 2012 - The Winners

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 17:22:00 +0000

Best First Feature Film:

Boudewijn Koole for Cowboy/ Netherlands

Special Mention/ Silver Bear:

Ursula Meier for L'enfant d'en haut/ Switzerland

Alfred Bauer Award for New Perspectives In Cinema:

Miguel Gomez for Tabu/ Portugal

Silver Bear for Best Actor:

Mikkel Boo Falkesgaard for A Royal Affair/ Denmark

Silver Bear for Best Actress:

Rachel Mwanza for Rebelle/ Canada

Silver Bear For Best Screenplay:

Nikolai Arcel and Rasmus Heisterberg for A Royal Affair/ Denmark

Silver Bear For Outstanding Artistic Contribution:

Cinematographer Lutz Reitemeier for Bai lu yuan/ China

Silver Bear for Best Direction:

Christian Petzold for Barbara/ Germany

Silver Bear/ Grand Prix of the Jury:

Bence Fliegauf for Just The Wind/ Hungary

Golden Bear for Best Film:

Paolo and Vittorio Taviani for Cesare deve morire/ Italy

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, Tomas Alfredson, UK 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 14:19:00 +0000

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is an excellent spy-thriller. That is, if you're into spy-thrillers ...

Jokes aside, it is an outstanding film no doubt - dense, excellently paced, to say nothing of the actors who are all at the top of their game, without exception - but truth be told: as far as I'm concerned Tinker, Tailor falls under that category of films which don't do much for me, yet their brilliance is nevertheless obvious, even to me, and I can see why they are a cut above the rest (of similar such spy-thrillers).

If you are into spy-thrillers - unlike myself - then you may love this film, but be warned: it is the opposite of what you'd expect from your average, run-of-the-mill James Bond movie. That Alfredson has stripped the genre of all the glitz, the pretty girls, the ritzy locations and the gallons of dry martinis which have falsely sugar-coated the genre of the spy-thriller ever since Bond, James Bond first stepped out of his Aston Martin with a Chanel-clad Ursula Andres by his side, surely is part of Tinker, Tailor's brilliance. Alfredson's spies are a tired-looking, lonely, bunch of middle-aged, droopy shouldered, men wearing badly cut suits in various shades of grey and that murky, 1970s, brown. The only pretty girl in sight is an indeed stunningly pretty Russian spy who gets violently killed halfway into the film.

It seems obvious that Aldredson has given Martin Ritt's equally brilliant but equally elliptical, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold a good look for its mood, theme, and general atmosphere, are very reminiscent of Tinker, Tailor, and I don't think that's just because both are based on novels by John le Carre.

Having not seen the 1979 television version of Tinker, Tailor, I have no idea how the two compare. However, I do know that it probably helps if you've seen it - if only to make the plot-line and the goings-on that much clearer. I'm aware that like in most spy-thrillers, the viewer has to just accept some of the unfolding events as a fact. No questions asked. Trying to question or get to the bottom of this, that or the other element in the plot is bound to get you nowhere. At least, I didn't. I tried.

Nevertheless, that I did try, tells you that I liked the movie well enough to care.

Berlinale 2012 - Programme/ Competition/ Now Complete

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 11:55:00 +0000

The programme for the International Competition is now complete, the Berlin Film Festival has announced.

Though due to the rescheduled date for the Academy Awards ceremony which has once again been brought forward, the programme does feature less US productions than usual. However, in my opinion that is a loss the Berlin film fest can live with. If anything, it's a gain, not because US films are so bad - no! - but because these films will eventually be released the world over, anyway, and therefore don't really need the support of a major film festival as a launching pad at all.

Let's face it, the main reason why Hollywood used to feature so prominently in the Berlinale's Competition was because of the Hollywood glamour these films added to a festival which otherwise has a dearth in star power - stars, that is, that are known the world over. Not that any film festival - let alone one like the Berlinale which for years has been known as a political festival, and one with a focus on Asian and eastern European cinema - necessarily needs star power or Hollywood glamour. But it's the sponsors that require it. Like everywhere else - money talks, and it's the sponsors providing much needed cold, hard cash, that are calling the shots. At least to a degree. For if French cosmetics giant L'Oreal agrees to shell out some dough they expect to be associated with the likes of Scarlett Johannson or, if unavailable, Paris Hilton (or perhaps not Paris Hilton ...), rather than some, in their eyes, C-List ding-dong from some eastern European country Paris Hilton wouldn't even be able to pinpoint on the map. But every time I see these so-called Hollywood stars schlepping across the red carpet in Berlin's - usually - freezing cold weather, answering the - usually - silly questions by the German media, for some Berlinale entry which - usually - had its US release weeks ago, I'm finding this act, put on for the sake of the sponsors, increasingly ludicrous. Let's face it - Berlin will never be Cannes. Temperatures below zero, the non-existent palm-trees and, of course, the relative absence of Hollywood stars, just can't compete with the splendours of La Croisette. It is my opinion - and it has been for some time - that Berlin would be well advised to distance itself from Cannes. In other words, rather than trying to imitate it, the way to go is to focus on its reputation as a political festival and get completely rid of the titbits of glamour there were, including that silly red carpet. Berlinale discoveries that fall under this category are the festival's strong suit and are generally among the best films to be found in the fest's official programme. Best case in point is last year's Nader and Sirin, which went on to garner awards across the globe.

This year, however, there's little the sponsors can do, anyway, as Hollywood films are just not available for reasons mentioned above. All this, I think, is to the Berlinale's benefit which, in addition to being blessed with the strongest jury in years, now also has a Competition programme to match. And while I can't say much regarding the quality of the films selected yet, at least the programme as a whole seems more consistent, if not to say more interesting, featuring, as it does, an impressive number of films of little known directors, thus doing exactly what a film festival is supposed to do: providing an international platform for new talent.

Find the Berlinale Competition programme HERE!

The Artist, Michel Hazanavicius, France, Belgium 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 16:12:00 +0000

Just a few weeks ago I wrote elsewhere on this blog that I couldn't think of any film off hand that I'd been as much looking forward to seeing as The Artist! First of all, there's all the hype surrounding this film, not to mention the slew of awards and nominations The Artist has received. Next, and more importantly, there's the film's sujet, revolving as it does around a crucial moment in American film history, and one which continues to preoccupy and fascinate me - Hollywood at the transition from silent film to talkies.

Now, having just seen The Artist at long last, I am happy to report that my expectations were met, although to be honest, I'm not even sure I'm able to say what these expectations were or consisted of ... a lesson in film history? (which it isn't), a love story without sound? (which it isn't, either, strictly speaking), a lamento about all that was lost when the pictures started talking (which it is isn't, either, but that's how I felt when leaving the cinema).

Summed up in one of the most famous lines from Hollywood history, the effect The Artist has on the viewer is best described as "they didn't need words - they had faces!". Norma, you were absolutely right, is what I felt like shouting right into the crowd behind me as I was watching the film.

That's how riveted I was!

True, the film's narrative can be told in one or two sentences and as already mentioned, has hardly anything new to say about the subject of silent film or its transition to sound. However, it's not necessarily the story that counts (most of which have been told already, anyway, and many of them several times over) - more often than not it is a case of how the story is told. And this precisely is what makes The Artist such a pleasure to watch. It's the effortless and well-nigh imperceptible switch of perspectives in the film's opening sequence; it's the expert use of music - and sound! - throughout the film; it's how Hazanavicius uses his knowledge of Hollywood history without ever coming across as patronising; and it's of course the actors, most notably Jean Dujardin, who epitomises a 1920s movie star down to the last detail, including the fact that he's foreign-born (in the film as well as of course, in real life) as were Valentino and Emil Jannings, which also, in the film's very last scene, aptly explains why Dujardin's character disappeared from the screen when silent film went out.

And yes, the film's not entirely free of a certain nostalgia but it never drifts into the maudlin or the sentimental. If anything, it's more an homage to silent film than it is a nostalgic look back, let alone a lamento.

What does come as a real surprise to me, though, is the success The Artist enjoys, not just in the US and in France, but the world over. For a silent movie to be this popular in times like these, obsessed with ever new technical inventions and innovations, is rather unusual, to put it mildly.

But then again, maybe it isn't so unusual, after all. For looking more closely at recent US releases what strikes me is, that quite a few of them are indeed looking back - nostalgically or otherwise (Hugo, War Horse, etc.) - as if yearning for a rather more innocent time when life seemed easier, less riddled by the woes, problems, disasters and social inequalities which now hold us firmly in their grip and which we can't seem to find any appropriate answers for.

Seen this way, the success of The Artist may be less surprising, ending as it does, at the cusp of the Great Depression.

Drive, Nicolas Winding Refn, US 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 17:06:00 +0000

Told in a nutshell, Drive is the story of a heist-gone-awry. As such, it is not revolutionary, but what makes it so, is the way it is told.

Starring Ryan Gosling, who's well on his way to become the Next-Big-Thing in American Cinema, Drive is very much his film as he's seen in literally every single take. Gosling plays The Driver, a car-mechanic-cum-stuntman-cum-getaway-driver, with remarkable restraint, obviously taking his cue from a string of similar anti-heroes in Hollywood Cinema's - Clint Eastwood, for one - to the effect that it makes the tension that's percolating beneath the façade all the more palpable. Taciturn and with a facial expression which remains unchanged throughout the film, The Driver's façade crumbles from time to time, throwing up his other side - his violent rage, his pent-up anger - although, similar to Eastwood or Hayden, this violent side never turns against the underdog or the disadvantaged; The Driver - whose story we never get to know but can easily imagine by way of Gosling's acting - knows who's to be trusted and yet, like another one of his inspirations - Jake Gittes in Polanski's Chinatown - he gets it fatally wrong in the crucial moment.

And yet, we don't even get to know The Driver's name which is one of the film's many gimmicks - for lack of a better word - as well as one of the film's many references to Hollywood Cinema, in this case Alfred Hitchcock's Rebecca, in which the heroine's name also is never revealed throughout the entire film. But this is not the only bow to Hitchcock in Refn's film, there are a number of others and you can clearly tell that Nicolas Winding Refn knows his Hollywood history and what's more - loves it! Besides Hitchock, David Lynch and Quentin Tarantino are also quoted - if ever so subtly - Drive betraying the influence these directors have had on Refn.

Having been aware that Refn was awarded the Palme d'Or for Best Director at last year's Cannes Film Festival, my expectations were rather high, although I wisely refrained from reading any reviews. What makes Drive what it is and the reason why it deserves to be included in the cannon of such brilliant heist-gone-wrong classics such as The Killing, Asphalt Jungle or Reservoir Dogs, are its deliberate slow pace, its cast (notably Gosling and Carey Mulligan, but also Albert Brooks) and, of course, the noir-ish cinematography, underscored by the fact that much of the action in Drive takes place at night though, I should add, similar to the cornfield scene in Hitchcock's North By Northwest, the most suspenseful moment in Refn's film takes place in broad daylight.

My only criticism with the film concerns its rather convoluted plot, which turns ever more dense and inscrutable towards the end. But then again, the same could be said of some of the films mentioned above for who can claim to have fully grasped each and every detail of Reservoir Dogs, to say nothing of film noir classics like The Big Sleep ... ?

Berlinale 2012 - Jury/ International Competition

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 08:37:00 +0000

British film maker Mike Leigh will be head of the international jury of the upcoming Berlin Film Festival. He is joined by French actress Charlotte Gainsbourg, Iranian film maker Asghar Farhadi, French film maker Francois Ozon, Algerian writer Boualem Sansal, German actress Barbara Sukowa, Dutch photographer and film maker Anton Corbijn, and American actor Jake Gyllanhaal.

Mike Leigh

Barbara Sukowa

Boualem Sansal

Charlotte Gainsbourg

Francois Ozon

Jake Gyllenhaal

Anton Corbijn

Asghar Farhadi

It is, in my opinion, the hottest jury in years with big names throughout - big in the sense of both each jury member's fame and popularity as well as their achievements and the quality of their work.

The first-rate jury is matched by a Competition programme which, though not yet complete, sounds very promising consisting as it does almost solely of world premières, thus giving Cannes a run for its money.

It'll be posted here as soon as it's been announced.

Theo Angelopoulos, 1935 - 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 09:21:00 +0000

Last night, the Greek film director Theo Angelopoulos succumbed to injuries resulting from a car accident which occurred yesterday evening on the outskirts Athenes, where Angelopoulos had been working on location of his new film, The Other Sea.

Angelopoulos was the recipient of many awards, including the Palme d'or and the Golden Lion. Though not very prolific, he was regarded as one of Europe's - if not the world's - most uncompromising film makers.

He was 76 years old.

Oscar Nominations 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 14:34:00 +0000

Best Picture:

The Artist
Thomas Langmann, Producer
The Descendants
Jim Burke, Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor, Producers
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Scott Rudin, Producer
The Help
Brunson Green, Chris Columbus and Michael Barnathan, Producers
Hugo
Graham King and Martin Scorsese, Producers
Midnight in Paris
Letty Aronson and Stephen Tenenbaum, Producers
Moneyball
Michael De Luca, Rachael Horovitz and Brad Pitt, Producers
The Tree of Life
Nominees to be determined
War Horse
Steven Spielberg and Kathleen Kennedy, Producers

Actress In a Leading Role:

Glenn Close, Albert Nobbs
Viola Davis, The Help
Rooney Mara, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady
Michelle Williams, My Week With Marilyn

Actor In a Leading Role:

Demián Bichir, A Better Life
George Clooney, The Descendants
Jean Dujardin, The Artist
Gary Oldman, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Brad Pitt, Moneyball

Actor In a Supporting Role:

Kenneth Branagh, My Week With Marilyn
Jonah Hill, Moneyball
Nick Nolte, Warrior
Christopher Plummer, Beginners
Max von Sydow, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Actress In a Supporting Role:

Bérénice Bejo, The Artist
Jessica Chastain, The Help
Melissa McCarthy, Bridesmaids
Janet McTeer, Albert Nobbs
Octavia Spencer, The Help

Cinematography:

The Artist, Guillaume Schiffman
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, Jeff Cronenweth
Hugo, Robert Richardson
The Tree of Life, Emmanuel Lubezki
War Horse, Janusz Kaminski

Art Direction:

The Artist, Laurence Bennett (Production Design); Robert Gould (Set Decoration)
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2,
Stuart Craig (Production Design); Stephenie McMillan (Set Decoration)
Hugo, Dante Ferretti (Production Design); Francesca Lo Schiavo (Set Decoration)
War Horse, Rick Carter (Production Design); Lee Sandales (Set Decoration)

Costume Design:

Anonymous, Lisy Christl
The Artist, Mark Bridges
Hugo, Sandy Powell
Jane Eyre, Michael O'Connor

Directing:

The Artist, Michel Hazanavicius
The Descendants, Alexander Payne
Hugo, Martin Scorsese
Midnight in Paris, Woody Allen
The Tree of Life, Terrence Malick

Documentary Feature

Hell and Back Again, Danfung Dennis and Mike Lerner
If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front, Marshall Curry and Sam Cullman
Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory, Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky
Pina, Wim Wenders and Gian-Piero Ringel
Undefeated, TJ Martin, Dan Lindsay and Richard Middlemas

Film Editing:

The Artist, Anne-Sophie Bion and Michel Hazanavicius
The Descendants, Kevin Tent
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall
Hugo, Thelma Schoonmaker
Moneyball, Christopher Tellefsen

Foreign Language Film:

Belgium, Bullhead, Michael R. Roskam, director
Canada, Monsieur Lazhar, Philippe Falardeau, director
Iran, A Separation, Asghar Farhadi, director
Israel, Footnote, Joseph Cedar, director
Poland, In Darkness, Agnieszka Holland, director

Music (Original Score):

The Adventures of Tintin, John Williams
The Artist, Ludovic Bource
Hugo, Howard Shore
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Alberto Iglesias
War Horse, John Williams

Kriegerin (Combat Girls), David Wnendt, Germany 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 19:29:00 +0000

Kriegerin, the first feature length film of Konrad-Wolf Film school graduate David Wnendt, is about a young woman who's an active member of Germany's neo-Nazi movement.

As such, Wnendt's film is very timely for the murders on nine immigrants and a police woman by a neo-Nazi cell are still dominating the news across Germany. As more and more facts about the murderous trio are emerging, both the police and homeland security as well as Germany's secret service have come under fire for their failure to track this cell down earlier. Unbelievably, this group, which called itself National Socialist Underground, went undetected for more than ten years, successfully escaping the radar screen of every official institution set up by the German government in order to protect its citizens - all of them. Needless to say, this threw up a lot of questions as it once more challenged this country's handling of its past and its fascist remnants.

To be sure, a casual visitor to Germany is not very likely to come across any neo-Nazis - they're too small in numbers, largely operating in Germany's thinly populated and economically deprived east. Similarly, unlike in other European countries, the extreme right is not represented in the German parliament. But this is precisely why many German politicians shrugged the neo-Nazi movement off as marginal and never imagined this problem to be as dramatic as it turned out to be. This misjudgement by Germany's politicians turned out to be fatal. For all although 10, 000 neo-Nazis may seem like a - relatively - small number in relation to a population of 82 million, they're of course still 10, 000 too many. Adding insult to injury is the fact that Germany's homeland security is believed to have turned a blind eye, if not to the actual murders but to the time when this neo-Nazi group was yet in its infancy. The point is, if official institutions such as the police or homeland security had been more alert the murders could probably have been prevented - so some believe. However, as the investigation is still ongoing, it remains to be seen to what extent the police, homeland security and the secret service are, in fact, to blame.

Poster for the US release of Kriegerin

So much for the background and debate surrounding the release of Kriegerin. Little did David Wnendt know, of course, when setting out to make a film about women in Germany's neo-Nazi movement, that its release would come on the heels of the revelation regarding the murders of this so-called National Socialist Underground. Had Wnendt known, I'm sure he would have made a different film. Don't get me wrong - Kriegerin is an excellent film with a topic that's long overdue as it's been more or less fully absent from German mainstream cinema. Wnendt deserves credit for the fact alone that he addresses a topic which is as unpopular in Germany as it sits uneasy with the German public who'd like nothing more than to sweep the neo-Nazi issue along with the shadow of its Nazi past - still looming large - under the carpet. But not because they're in denial about it, but rather out of a desire for normality, for being able to pretend that Germany was a country like any other. This may explain why so few German film makers have tackled this issue over the past two decades - even though the German media was full of stories regarding the rising neo-Nazi movement particularly in the east. When some years back, the British film director Shame Maedows, made a film about the neo-Nazi movement as it was in the early 1980s in the UK (This Is England, Shane Meadows, UK 2006), I remember thinking that it would stand Germany's film makers in good stead to follow Meadows' example and come up with something similar.

But no such luck.

Alina Levshin, who (brilliantly!) plays the lead in Kriegerin is a German actress of Ukranian descent. Considering that an estimated 25% of Germany's population are of non-German descent, actors and film workers with an immigrant background are under-represented in the German media, film included.

Wnendt's film, as commendable as it is, does not offer any solutions, nor are his attempts at explaining why so many, especially in Germany's east, seek refuge in neo-Nazi ideology conclusive. Those he suggests are insufficient inasmuch as Marisa (Alina Levshin), the main character of Kriegerin, is drawn into the neo-Nazi maelstrom for lack of any viable alternative and because of her grandfather who, it is suggested, was a Nazi and passed his poisonous thoughts on to his granddaughter. However, it is my conviction that the day-to-day reality is at least as much to blame since, albeit subtle, racism has long found its way into the mainstream. Just consider the popularity Thilo Sarrazin's book has enjoyed in Germany upon its release, subsequently alienating Germany's immigrant communities by also provoking outcries from the left-wing media. Furthermore, look at the - relative - absence of news anchors with an immigrant background from German television, or the increasingly tiresome debate in the German - as well as international - media whether Muslim women should be allowed to wear a headscarf, and so on. All this, I would argue, is used by neo-Nazis as a justification for their thinking, their acts, believing, as they do, that they, finally, do exactly what the public at large would want to do but hasn't got the guts to. No, Kriegerin ain't the adequate response to the ever more horrific revelations that are emerging by and by of the neo-Nazi cell. But as the extent of the neo-Nazi movement was unknown even to David Wnendt, who allegedly did quite a bit of research prior to writing the script, that also could not have been his intention.

That leaves me hoping, that Germany's film makers will rise to the occasion, wake up to their responsibility - they are, after all, largely using government funding for their films! - and not only make films that tackle this issue in their future films but also ensure that film workers and actors with an immigrant background will receive more opportunities to make their voices heard and, most of all, a much larger presence in German films.

Carnage, Roman Polanski, France, Germany, Spain, Poland 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Martin S.) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 16:08:00 +0000

A first-rate, award winning play, a highly talented, seasoned director, and a stellar cast - there's little room for anything to go wrong, is there? And nothing did. Practically. Based on Yasmin Reza's play, God of Carnage, Roman Polanski's latest offering is a sort-of updated version of Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf. Which, to be clear, is not to imply that Reza borrowed from Albee's iconic play. If anything, she took her cue from it, got inspired by it, in order to create something that is entirely her own but which, similar to Albee, also comes very much to live through Reza's relentless, razor-sharp, observations of the debilitatingly political correct times we live in.

However, my one issue with Polanski's film is that it ends rather abruptly ... Since I'm unfamiliar with the original play, I'm unable to say, of course, if this is how Reza intended it. Don't get me wrong - I'm usually all for open endings and for films that tell their story succinctly. Nevertheless, here goes one film which I'd have wished to be a little longer and to have some sort of a closure rather than just stopping smack in the middle, depriving the audience of the last act (e.g the brawl which is about to take place ... or so it seems). But, you may argue, that is exactly why it ends where it does.

Carnage, opening scene

One of the best things about Reza's play is her achievement to well-nigh unnoticeably shift the spectator's sympathies and empathies from one character to another - and back again. Identification is thus tricky if not impossible, for every character is in almost equal parts as likeable as they are dislikeable. I also take my hat off to each and every one of Polanski's cast, for they manage to own up to the play, keeping our sympathies in murky waters, and just when you thought you found the one person in this bizarre, yet very real, bunch of neurotics that offers identification, he - or she - does or says something which renders them completely dislikeable.

Carnage premiered to rave reviews at last year's Venice film fest. All the more astounding that it is strangely and inexplicably absent from the list of Golden Globes nominations and other similar such awards ... if nothing else, at least Jodie Foster as well as Kate Winslet should have received a best acting nod. They, even more so than than John C. Reilly and Christoph Waltz, are especially outstanding in their very own definition and creation of women-on-the-verge-of-a-nervous-breakdown. Yet they didn't ... can it be that America's 30-year grudge held against Polanski should have something to do with it ...? I hope not! It's time for bygones to be let bygones!

Something else that deserves pointing out are the wardrobe and the set design for Polanski managed to bring two dinosaurs on board who are at least as seasoned and top-notch as he himself along with his cast, are: costume designer Milena Canonero and set designer Dean Tavoularis. Canonero, who, for instance, worked with Kubrick on Barry Lyndon, is a woman of impeccable, flawless, taste. Like every talented costume designer - though there are so few - she's an expert in highlighting character traits through costume, which is precisely what she does in Carnage (e.g. black power suits for Waltz's cynical attorney and Winslet's investment broker and softer colours for Foster's would-be writer and Reilly's peddler of household goods).

Dean Tavoularis' set for Carnage looks like straight out of a Woody Allen film, his films usually being set in the exact same New York, upper middle-class surroundings, which form the background of Carnage. Tavoularis' achievement to make Foster's and Reilly's apartment look like your quintessential Brooklyn Heights digs is all the more remarkable as Carnage was, of course, shot entirely on a sound stage outside Paris as to this day Polanski is still unable to enter the US without risking to be arrested upon arrival.