A disease is a disease by any other name

Khomotso Manyaka (Chandra)

South African cinema seems to be going through a period of, well, good filmmaking. (I'm not including marginal releases that fall under the 'kommin Afrikaner' designation, as we'll never get rid of those.) After the highly entertaining and polished "Jerusalema" (Ziman 2008), here's the somber yet gentle story of a country ravaged by HIV/Aids: "Life, Above All" by Oliver Schmitz. Note the punctuation. This is the film that Schmitz, in spite of directing the seminal 1980s gangster drama "Mapantsula", could not initially get local funding for, and that eventually enjoyed a 10 minute standing ovation at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival. (European backers financed the film until the local DTI kicked in. Which begs the question: to what an extent is "Life, Above All" a South African film? That's a discussion for another time.)

I suppose it's understandable that "Life, Above All" would have trouble obtaining financing, and also that it would be much loved at Cannes. Regarding the first matter, here's a film that condemns not merely the disease but the South African (and I use the term broadly) tendency to not talk about HIV/Aids; if you pretend that it doesn't exist, it might go away, or at least spare everyone the embarrassment of acknowledging that a loved one had died because of the disease. To what an extent did former president Mbeki help to create this view? Could it be that the film was seen as possibly too dangerous to fund locally, as if local financiers could not commit to the project on an ideological basis?

Regarding the latter matter: for all its severity, the film is never message-heavy (or heavy handed). Schmitz, working from Allan Stratton's novel, views the social effects of HIV/Aids through the eyes of young Chandra (Khomotso Manyaka), a  young girl who finds her life shaped by the disease and her community's approach to it from the opening shot. The film follows her attempts to salvage what she can of her collapsing family.

Like "The 400 Blows" (Truffaut 1959) and "Come and See" (Klimov 1985), the film's use of the child's perspective seems to make us more receptive to its themes, and speaking for myself, more open to its emotional appeal. While the child's view makes some events more palatable and plays more directly to emotions, you are still regularly reminded that you're viewing life through the eyes of someone who is not supposed to be dealing with what Chandra faces on a daily basis. The film has a stunning opening shot and suggests a contextual expectation for Chandra that, a few moments later, is utterly subverted. It's one of the most effective scenes in the whole film as Chandra's unfortunate position in her own family is brutally highlighted. How this single scene speaks to something very common in South Africa haunts the rest of the film as we are made to understand that Chandra is supposed to represent numerous nameless girls who find themselves in similar positions.

Chandra's journey is captivating as the film moves effortlessly from one event to the next, surely in no small part due to Manyaka's earnest presence. For most of its running time, the film works very well on technical and narrative levels. The film is not without potential pitfalls; I have not yet made up my mind about the exact lack of dimension that accompanies some secondary characters: the promiscuous friend; the drunk father; the uber-judgmental community members. While the film's ending works story-wise, it fails emotionally since the payoff requires us to buy into something specific that I for one was not entirely convinced of. After the relative harshness of everything that had come before, the ending felt like a let-down, a too-tidy, audience friendly packaging of the problem. The message is spelled out, not suggested. A neat finale is the last thing you need when you're dealing with children and HIV/Aids.

Pale, hairy and slow

Problem child

Takashi Shimizu presents... a classic film about a haunted house, ghosts and murder most foul... that's straight from the Japanese warehouse of weird... "JU-ON"!

Or rather, here's "Ju-on" (2002), a lame little Japanese fright flick that made some waves upon its release but is devoid of tangible threat or sustained tension, and led to an equally lame American remake starring Buffy. There's murder, and ghosts, and a haunted house, but it's all much ado about nothing. Shimizu, who gave the world the original "Ringu" a few years earlier, borrows from that superior film in "Ju-on's" most suspenseful scenes, of which there are few. The films starts with a whimper and ends in a snore; in between we sit through scene after scene of people who should often know better than going places they (and we) know they shouldn't.  If a door is literally taped shut, you don't go peeling away the tape. If there's a noise in the cupboard, you leave the room carefully - you do not slowly open the cupboard door with the look of constipated apprehension on your face.

"Ju-on" is narratively structured around a single evil event. The occurrences that follow, often shown non-chronologically, all relate back to that one event. See, a ju-on is a curse born in anger, and, like most resilient movie curses, sustains itself by appropriating victims left, right and center. Somehow, if people enter the site of the original evil event, they inevitably fall victim to pale ghosts with dark eyes whose appearance is often accompanied by odd noises resembling the sound of a frog dying in a clogged drain. So one after the other, a social worker, a former policeman, a friend of the social worker and many others are consumed by the curse. And by "consumed", I mean I don't really know what happens except that the frog is dying in the clogged drain and that people are somehow killed by the curse and its representatives.

I am rather fond of horror movies, but I distanced myself from the genre around eight years ago with the emergence of torture porn and generally increasing excessive, gratuitous brutality. When an interesting horror arrives and it's not gratuitous and Eli Roth is not involved, I'm inclined to give it a shot for old times' sake. More often than not, I am left with the familiar feeling of disappointment as filmmakers fail to construct tense narratives around plausible events. I had high hopes for "Ju-on", since it's a Japanese original and J-horror has delivered the goods in the past (this goes for both versions of "Dark Water"). Sadly, "Ju-on" is is a silly movie that relies on sound cues and long black hair (and in one instance a dozen cat statues) too much. To make things worse, the film suffers from slow antagonists, which we've seen a hundred times before. Those consumed by the curse move at a snail's pace, giving the victims a lot of time to escape. This being a lame horror movie, the victims don't run away but sit instead awaiting certain death, screaming and averting their eyes as the viewer attempts to make some sense of it all.

Missed "Ju-on"? You're not missing anything unless you're a J-horror completist or have a hair fetish. One day I'd like to see a movie about a curse born not out of anger but out of intelligence, where the evil makes sense and I end up peering at the screen from under my duvet.        

In my brother's shadow

The two brothers are Dick (Christian Bale, Oscar winner for Best Supporting Actor) and Micky (Mark Wahlberg) from Lowell, Massachusetts. They are working class men pursuing a boxing career. For Dick, the older brother, it's over; his drug addiction has seen to the end of his boxing dreams. He deludes himself into thinking that an HBO camera crew is making a film about his big comeback while they're actually documenting his demise. Micky is younger, dedicated and clean. Unlike Dick, he still has a realistic shot at boxing glory - if he can manage to distance himself from his insular family, which includes not only Dick and his numerous sisters, but also his meddling mother (Best Supporting Actress Oscar winner Melissa Leo).

"The Fighter" refers to Micky's attempt to become a renowned sports figure; to Dick's struggle with addiction and the inevitable consequences thereof; to Alice (Leo) ostensibly fighting for Micky's interests while always championing the has-been older brother. The father, George (Jack McGee), observes much of these family dynamics with a measure of restraint that is rather impressive. A resplendent Amy Adams costars as Charlene, a bar girl who hooks up with Micky and serves as a source of tension between him and his family. All in all, "The Fighter" makes for a brilliantly acted character drama. (Note: I think Leo's Oscar is more for her sensitive work as another desperate mother in "Frozen River" than for this film.)

The film is a good example of why the classical Hollywood narrative works, especially in sports dramas. When you go the formula route and you do it well, the result can be emotionally rewarding without being mind numbing. If a film is too cerebral, it can be alienating. I've written before on how "Raging Bull" didn't live up to its three-decade old hype, and Michael Mann's emotionally sterile "Ali" was a misfire, with Will Smith trying his best to channel the famous boxer in a film that couldn't bear its own weight and felt like it'd never end. And who remembers "Cinderella Man"? With "The Fighter", Russell's approach is restrained and never sentimental; he refrains from cheap musical cues and his conservative choice of camerawork and editing are appropriately far removed from the theatrics of "Three Kings" (1999). 

For a while I couldn't figure out why I responded so positively to the film. I think it comes down, for a change, to the basics: "The Fighter" is refreshingly straightforward solid entertainment and a gritty family drama. It has no pretenses about what it is. Admittedly, the film teeters oddly close to ridiculing some of its working class subjects at one stage, making the Ward sisters come across as bizarre caricatures reminiscent Maggie's redneck family in the tedious "Million Dollar Baby" (Eastwood 2004), a strange occurrence since the film's success lies in its well-rounded characters.

I've seen the film described as "uplifting" and "inspiring", and although a measure of triumph is to be expected, the film is so bleak and the characters so convincingly grounded and tangible that I cannot bring myself to reduce the film to those labels. Still, in the words of Roger Ebert, no good film is depressing, and "The Fighter" is a very, very good film, one I am certain to revisit.

Put down that shotgun, Rory!

Hey mister!

Breck Eisner's "The Crazies" represents one of my favourite types of movie: the American-small-town-gone-batshit-due-to-disease-or-collective-psychopathology thriller. American cinema often paints its rural areas as filled with homegrown saints and weed-whackin' good folk ("Sweet Home Alabama", "Runaway Bride") and it's always refreshing to see the apocalyptic potential in those locales. Surely, when some sort of apocalypse hits America, it will start in a small town? In "Eight Legged Freaks", giant spiders terrorised a town, itself a riff on the ground-burrowing cattle-guzzlers in the classic "Tremors". A recent entry into this subgenre, Frank Darabont's "The Mist", contrasted the threat of the danger lurking in the mist with the equally devastating human evil.

In  "The Crazies", a remake of George A. Romero's 1973 cult favourite, small town sheriff David (Timothy Olyphant, so great in "Deadwood", so wasted in "Hitman") and his deputy Russell (Joe Anderson) find their quaint town, Ogden Marsh, turning on itself as townfolk start acting crazy. Crazy in this sense means "homicidal" and "fueled by intense bloodlust". David's wife Judy (Radha Mitchell), the local doctor, also becomes involved in the events which compels David to take action like he couldn't even conceive of before.

Eisner's film does nothing new, really; bad mad people run amok, good sane people must survive. Of course, and surely this is not a spoiler, the military gets involved somehow, and the ending comes as no surprise. In this type of film, predictability is not by default a negative quality. It's a highly competent thriller filled with much gore and brutality and a few special moments which had me petrified. Admittedly, what one considers scary or frightening is as patently subjective as what one considers funny. The film isn't meant to be "The Descent". Unfortunately, Eisner relies on musical cues for scares too much, which lessens the film's overall impact. As is to be expected the make-up in this kind of film has to be state of the art, and it is; every open wound glistens.

What to make of "The Crazies" thematically? Is it trying to educate us about military interventionism, and how it messes things up instead of smoothing them out? How military assistance is sometimes worse than their absence? If that's the case, the film hearkens back to a key theme of 1950s and 1960s American SF. Indeed, insofar as the film presents the military (re)action in this film, especially their solution to the problems in Ogden Marsh, it is clear that they are as much part of the destruction around them as whatever is making the townsfolk go ballistic. 

"The Crazies" is limited in its commentary, though, and is refreshingly unselfconscious (for a film of its nature) about the type of film it is. There are no in-jokes, no cameos by zombie authorities (as far as I know). This is a serious thriller - how 'thriller' differs from 'horror' is another discussion - like Shyamalan's eco-snooze "The Happening" was. The difference is that "The Crazies" does not take itself as seriously as that film, and is all the better for it.

It goes without saying the "The Crazies", with its superficial social pessimism and its oodles of gore, is not for everybody. Still, if you appreciate the use of the standard issue pitchfork for purposes related to madness and mayhem, look no further for your fix.

Return of Undead Man and the Incredible Catatonic Girlfriend

Dialogue sample #1: 

Edward: “I know the consequences of the choice you’re making. I’ve lived through it, and to let you suffer that… You believe I have a soul, and I don’t. But to risk yours, just for the sake of never having to lose you, it's the most selfish thing I’ll ever do.”

Bella: "I thought that you were afraid that I'd be too different. Like I wouldn't be...warm, I wouldn't smell the same."

Edward: "You'll always be my Bella. My Bella, just less fragile."
(http://twilightsaga.wikia.com)

Dialogue sample #2:
Inga: "Werewolf!"
Dr. Frankenstein: "Werewolf?"
Igor: "There."
Dr. Frankenstein: "What?"
Igor: "There, wolf. There, castle."
(www.imdb.com) 

The first dialogue sample is from the third "Twilight" film, the dramatic "Eclipse". The second is from Mel Brooks' hilarious comedy "Young Frankenstein!" from 1973. Both samples make me smile. The difference is that the latter sample is intentionally funny, while the former is supposed to be profound, where "profound" means "indulgent" and "oh-so-sincere". In the context of the film, these spoken words sound hollow and campy, more so than anything in a cult comedy by Brooks, who would later deliver the sporadically funny "Dracula - Dead and Loving It".

Certainly it's not the dialogue that gets audiences to flock to the cinema. I do not deny that the "Twilight" films speak to a specific younger demographic; the box-office is a good indication of this. Consider, however, that the IMDb scores of the three "Twilight" movies, as ranked by users, are 5.5/10, 4.5/10 and 4.8/10. Clearly, most people seem to understand that something is amiss with the franchise but, much like "Transformers" fans, it may be that they cling to the hope that "the next one will be worth it".

"Eclipse", although better than its predecessors, is not worth it. It's a ho-hum continuation of a tired love story spun against a backdrop of inter-species conflict that "Underworld" portrayed with greater flair and substance. The biggest complaint I have about the whole series is that the producers have spent three films telling a story that could easily fit into a single 140 minute feature film. Film 1: Edward and Bella fall in love, while Jacob is a friend; Victoria swears to avenge her lover's death. Film 2: Edward leaves Bella and Jacob makes his move; Victoria is somewhere. Film 3: Victoria assembles an army of vampires to attack the Cullens and give her the chance to kill Bella; Jacob and Edward fight nicely over who gets Bella. The end. It's the result of greed and bad writing that a simple three act story is split into three separate parts, prolonging not only Bella's suffering but also mine. How much screen time do you need to tell people that abstinence is good?

David Slade, who previously directed the antithesis to "Twilight" in the graphic novel adaptation "30 Days of Night", makes "Eclipse" the best looking of the three movies. In addition, he actually makes the action scenes come alive at times despite the weightless special effects (the werewolves look like they exist in another dimension, not the one in which the action is taking place). In the end though, lackluster story trumps visual style, and you can only shoot a pining Bella and panicking Edward in so many ways. (There are, apparently, many ways to frame a shirtless Jacob. At least the film mocks its own obsession with the Native American's naked torso. Cultural-bodily exploitation reaches a new low here.)

There is a scene where Bella, freezing her bottom lip off in a tent atop a snowy mountain, understands that the lifeless Edward cannot supply her with some body heat to warm her. Luckily Jacob, who is indeed warm even without his fur coat, offers his body heat much to Edward's initial chagrin. Then there's a moment where the two men grab each other's arms in the heat of this discussion, and for a second, just a second, I thought that vampire and werewolf would reconcile in ways Stephanie Meyer had not imagined. I'm sure it's unintentional but it's a welcome ambiguous character moment in a film where there are very few surprises.

Don't make the mistake of thinking that there's character development in this film, or the series, at all. Character development is not falling in love, sighing, moaning, and glittering in the sun. It's an internal process by which characters reach a point of metamorphosis, even apotheosis. When I hear people talk of how Bella and Edward have "grown", my heart grows heavy. At this point, essentially, all the characters are exactly the way they started out. Bella's relationship with Edward has provided her with nothing but pseudo-existential angst and a lack of any ambition except to be Edward's wife. How depressing is that?   
     

Always tell people where you're going

"127 Hours" is a kinetic motion picture where the main character is physically trapped in one position for about an hour of screen time. This new film by Danny Boyle tells the story of real-life adventure-seeker Aron Ralston (played here by James Franco) who has his right arm trapped under a boulder while exploring a vast nature reserve. One shot shows you exactly how far removed Ralston is from possible help  - there is no-one to be seen for miles. And that's the film: Ralston's alone, he's trying to figure out a way to get out of this life-threatening situation, and he revisits key memories pertaining to a lost love.

This description may not make it sound like "127 Hours" is much of a film, but that's not the case. As is typical of his visual and aural approach, Boyle's storytelling is again infused with an incredible energy. This often works (as in his seminal "Trainspotting") and sometimes falls flat (in the overrated and excessively edited "Slumdog Millionaire"). Here, it's this audio-visual kinesis that keeps the film - and, in a way, Ralston - alive. The film manages to mine this energy from its opening scenes, which frames Ralston as one of millions of persons going about his own business; on that fateful day, he was the guy something unfortunate happened to. It is to the film's credit that even though you probably know how everything comes to pass, as I did, the buildup to the climax and equally tense denouement remains riveting.

"127 Hours" was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, and Franco for Best Actor.

A Better Tomorrow

To employ a broad term, Latin America has provided some of the most visually and emotionally arresting films of the past few years. Two key South American films from the previous decade, "Y Tu Mama Tambien" (Cuaron 2001) and "City of God" (Meirelles & Lund 2002), are masterpieces by any measure. Now director Cary Fukunaga (of the forthcoming "Jane Eyre" adaptation) has given us the political drama "Sin Nombre", a film without South African release but legally obtainable from overseas. (It may pop up on satellite, but I'm not sure.)

In this epic, wrenching drama, we meet Willy (Edgar Flores), or "El Casper" as he is known to his fellow gang members. Willy is part of the infamous Mexican Mara gang run by the deadly El Sol (Luis Pena) and his intimidating brother Lil' Mago (Tenoch Huerta). Willy has recently assisted in the induction of a new member, the eager young Smiley (Kristian Ferrer). As some of Willy's actions indicate, he is not fulfilled by gang life.

Then there's Sayra (Paulina Gaitan) who intends to flee the poverty and constraints of Honduras with her family. They intend to take the train to New Jersey, where they will reunite with family members already there. This train ride is completely illegal, as those wanting to escape to the land of the free do so without documentation and on the roof of the train, where they are exposed to the elements and are easily spotted by immigration control. Sayra is told that the journey is "life threatening", and we see how dangerous this journey really is. At some stage Sayra and Willy meet, and the film details their perilous transit with empathy and without soft focus.

"Sin Nombre" - "without name" - is a powerful, moving film about the plight of the less fortunate without being patronising or condescending to its characters or viewers. It does not rub our faces in squalor and decay but chooses instead to show us people who face social danger regularly and are willing to do whatever is necessary to leave that world behind in favour of a new, better one. The title's play on namelessness indicates the problematics of a dictated identity bound to geography and social structures (gangs), while also pointing to the 'non-existence' status of illegal immigrants. The film is as much a vivid illustration of the costs of illegal immigration as it is a condemnation and demonstration of the detrimental social role of Mexican gangs, groups whose power and influence reach far into the United States.

Thirty three year-old Fukunaga, whose social consciousness is surely informed by his education as a History major, avoids the potential pitfalls of statistics and proselytising. His focus is always on the experiences of his characters as they struggle in and against the world, and this reveals the larger social reality without comprising its complexity (illegal immigration and gangs are not simple issues).

The film is alive with colour, and I must mention cinematographer Abriano Goldman's contribution in making Mexico come to life on screen. No wonder; Goldman shot on 35 mm film, not digital. 

"Sin Nombre" won multiple awards at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival. It was produced by Diego Luna and Gael Garcia Bernal, the two male leads in "Y Tu Mama Tambien".