Filmfest Hamburg: Плем'я (The Tribe)

(Originally appeared in Film International on Oct. 13, 2014)

The Ukranian dramatic thriller "Плем'я (The Tribe)" marks the arrival of a major directorial talent in Miroslav Slaboshpitsky, who delivers a feature debut here that’s artistically challenging, topically provocative, stylistically assured, and an all-around daring, alluring, searing work of vision. Set in an educational institution for the deaf and mute, the entire movie is acted out in sign language without any translation, subtitles or voice-over. From the very start, the viewer is thrown head-first into a world devoid of speech and made to stay there for a 132 minute runtime that often feels like such a compressed vacuum that it literally takes your breath away. If the very first scenes, as curiously indistinct as they are observed from across the street or the edge of a ritualistic assembly, don’t yet make the one-of-a-kind quality of this film known, you soon find yourself in (apparently) the principal’s office with the new, introverted student Sergey (Grigory Fesenko), followed by an exchange completely impenetrable to anyone unversed in the art of signing.

There will be many more situations like this, in which one has no way of knowing what’s being said, ordered, questioned, debated, but the brilliance of the director lies exactly in the fact that he understands human communication, even when stripped of all conversational tools, can sneak through the most imperceptible channels and light a spark of recognition on the most subliminal level. Indeed, one quickly realizes no words are needed to convey such primal fears of exclusion, exploitation or abuse. And in the practiced efficiency with which tasks are carried out and hierarchy established on the school compound, one can readily spot a sinister enterprise long before the actual criminal acts begin. Of course, this implies a much more instinctual and less precise form of comprehension, which ultimately counts against the relatability of the script, but the emotional ripples it stirs up are just as real. An argument between two girls via a lot of furious gesticulating later in the film, for example, baffles in terms of its exact meaning but remains utterly compelling to watch for the sheer passion it captures.

Further enhancing the unique experience of following a story without always being informed of what’s happening are the strong visual and aural imprint of Slaboshpitsky’s hand. Scenes set in a crowded student cafeteria are silent except for the busy clutter of cutlery, as well as scenes depicting a group visit to an amusement park at night with only the creaking of the merry-go-around audible, are intensely sound-focused and disturb with an inherent strangeness. An extended sequence of a complete gynecological procedure shows all the motions gone through with rapt attention and inflicts an almost physical pain through those unblinking eyes. Combining both elements, a carefully choreographed public fight/mob scene staged against waves of eerily muted cheers engenders such peculiar artificiality and ceremoniousness that one suspects it would make Lars von Trier proud. These directorial tricks wouldn’t work without the support of an able technical team, and, especially in the case of the visual department, first-time cinematographer Valentyn Vasyanovych impresses with a tremendous sense of space. There is nothing amateurish or accidental about his camera, which expands and constricts its view with purpose and design, filling the images with geometrical cues and a tangible aliveness too glorious to go unnoticed.

As hinted above, the writing on the film (also by Slaboshpitsky) isn’t as watertight as the directing. On the one hand there’s the built-in problem of limited articulation, which prevents us from being totally sure of some finer points of the plot and thus identifying with the characters with more conviction. On the other, the plotting itself is a little repetitive at times, especially with the prostitution scheme enacted time and again. And if it’s not supposed to be an attack on the social reality in the Ukraine, the general lack of supervision within this facility also feels unaccounted for. Another smaller weakness is the performance by Fesenko in the lead role, which might be too unvaried to bring the viewer closer. These faults in screenwriting and acting contribute to an extremely violent ending that seems to be carried by too little context except simple-minded rage. Even so, the journey leading up to that blood-splattered point is an absolutely transfixing one and it gratifies to no end seeing such fearless creative risk-taking pay off with flying colors while witnessing an impossible idea realized with big, confident gestures.

Filmfest Hamburg: Fehér isten (White God)

(Originally appeared in the Berlin Film Journal on Oct. 10, 2014)

A striking first frame or opening sequence, while not the solution to every problem, is definitely a big plus for any movie. After all, it's the image that most immediately leaves an impression, sets the tone, puts your imagination to work. And a hugely promising start the Hungarian dramatic thriller "Fehér isten (White God)" does have. Unfortunately it turns out to be one of those downhill slides that never manage to regain the initial height again.

Blunt, structurally complicated and contextually unusual, a static overhead shot of crisscrossing streets and highway on a crisp morning in Budapest- completely empty of traffic- drops like a brick with an almost illusionary optical starkness. The sense of unease only escalates as a lone bike-rider then pedals across the abandoned city, chased by probably the only thing even more worrisome than a pack of blood-thirsty zombies- a pack of angry-looking dogs. It's an arresting overture impressive for its classical composition and tonal urgency. When it's followed after the title card directly by a sequence of the young biker girl playing with her mutt in careless frolic from another time, the contrast is strong, the curiosity and expectation stoked great.

For a while, it seems that the high hopes would be proven valid, too. The movie remains forcefully present, making especially good use of intensely corporal, symbol-heavy imagery like the carcasses and innards of skinned livestock in a slaughterhouse that are promptly, somewhat vulgarly stamped "suitable for consumption". The smart iconography continues with the main character design: girl in hoodie, with bike in hands and trumpet in rucksack, roaming the neighborhood side by side with her loyal sidekick. It's an instantly catchy, almost fable-like figure that easily consolidates a surreal tale around itself. So far, so good.          

But then writer/director Kornél Mundruczó appears to run out of fresh ideas. The critical second act that should establish the story of how the frightening canine army came to be, begins with a hasty, simplistically constructed desertion that feels sorely inadequate. The subsequent parallel narrative is uneven at best, with the storyline following Hagen the dog consistently more interesting than the one about his anxious owner. The many angles that part of the story tackles, including the father-daughter relationship and a half-hearted attempt at adolescent romance, are generically conceived, failing to quicken the dramatic pulse which drops whenever the focus moves away from the dog. But even on the more adventurous front, the journey of a house pet to becoming a ruthless prizefighter is not particularly winning. The handful of escape sequences lack an adult edginess and come across as too harmless and Disney, an effect further strengthened by the fairly literal use of "villainous" or "adrenalin" music throughout.

The third act, which ideally would bring the story full circle and realize that scary promise from the beginning, also falls way short. While the massive stampede scenes are still unquestionably awesome, without sufficient secondary references to back it up, the horror element employed here significantly misses the mark, so that everything from the theatrical woman-dog stare-down at the shelter gate to the subsequent elimination of the butcher, the animal trader, even the dog-hating neighbor, gets rather unintentionally comical.

The most glowing asset of the film is doubtlessly its award-winning (Palme Dog 2014) canine cast, in particular the leader of the pack Hagen. Easily out-acting all all his human colleagues, he fascinates with exact and expressive movements, whether in petrification, alertness, rage or bewilderment. Through the variety of his reactions he also manages to save the unimaginatively choreographed and shot dog fight scenes from truly tanking. Ultimately the spectacles and some soulful animal performances aren't enough to salvage a film struggling with finding its own personality though. The vicious brutality depicted here and there can hardly be reconciled with the kiddie-friendly plot paternalistically rendered. And when the final weapon against the bestial invasion, which everyone in the audience has long guessed, is drawn and resolves the crisis as expected, the deliciously macabre undertone from that great opening quote "Everything terrible is something that needs our love" is irreversibly flipped. What you see then among the fluffy chaos on screen is, above all else, a wasted opportunity.

What We Do in the Shadows

New Zealander writer/director duo Jemaine Clement/Taika Waititi's vampire mocumentary "What We Do in the Shadows" is, as the unanimous blurb concert on its poster suggests, indeed hilarious. It represents the kind of grassroots, idea-centric comedy that proves winning not in spite of its logistical limitations but beause of them.

Shot through the lens of a documentary crew granted exclusive access to the life of four flat-sharing vampires in Wellington, things look makeshift and soberly unpolished from the first frame. When one of the tenants flies out from his coffin by way of some rudimentary wirework and starts introducing his flatmates with the bubbly excitement of someone not used to media attention, you might groan at the by now overused faux-realistic/found-footage style of filmmaking and ask how much longer the gimmick is going to last. In this case, however, the approach turns out to be in itself the source of comedy as it cleverly puts the myths of the bloodsucking immortals in the context of modern-day life and the hilarity from all the incongruence takes care of itself.

With the seriousness of a news team and the earnestness of people trying to be informative/entertaining on camera, the film takes us through the unexpected troubles and challenges the undead might face today. The scenarios are smartly conceived brimming with a dry, diabolic humor. The jokes keep coming but they feel organic, spontaneous, almost careless in their telling. The calculated air of strategically placed punchlines and gags commonly experienced by studio pictures is reduced to a minimum. Even though there are a couple of minor rough patches and the abrupt ending can use some bulking up, overall it's a very funny and creatively compelling piece of writing.

The production value is as hinted very modest, with all the effects shots looking somewhat dated and amateurish. But that plays into the whole mocking tone of the film well and stokes with endearing dorkiness even more goodwill. The cast, which includes the two directors, is funny in their matter-of-fact portrayal of vampires of different descents and temperaments. In all, this is a treat for those who like their movies cheekily macabre and don't mind geeky genre sensibility or drab lighting.

Filmfest Potsdam: Jamie Marks Is Dead

American writer/director Carter Smith's supernatural drama "Jamie Marks Is Dead" plays with interesting themes but the way they come together is so absurd one soon stops to care.

The title doesn't cheat- the meek, badly bullied high school student Jamie Marks is indeed dead from the get-go. He still plays a part in the story though, as his ghost starts to turn up at his classmates' houses. What's annoying about how the plot then unfolds is not that, despite some heavy hints offered later in the film, we never truly find out the why's and how's of Jamie's death. This could still be chalked up to deliberate character-building through mystique and intrigue. The fact that the movie never cares to explain the "laws" of the underworld as envisioned here, how it works and how beings from both sides interact, is very problematic though. It borrows freely from the genres of horror and children's fantasy without ever elaborating on the reasons or rules, so every new development seems disconnected, arbitrary. What makes matters worse is how poorly the motivations are established everywhere in the film. Why the sudden interest of the jock-y Adam in his dead classmate? Why does he decide he needs to get away with Jamie and subsequently pisses off that other ghost Frances? What is with all that "word-feeding" Jamie demands and what puts his troubled soul to rest in the end? Most ridiculous of all is probably the way the two supporting female characters- Adam's mom and the woman who paralyzes her in a car accident- are drawn. This whole subplot actually feels like a strangely irrelevant afterthought, but whenever these two show up, they never fail to sound and act so fake you half expect them to be exposed as just imaginary figures at any moment.

It's apparent the filmmaker wishes to address adolescent sexuality and other subjects such as forgiveness and redemption though all this paranormal activity, but his direction is often wishy-washy/inexpressive where subtlety and clarity are needed. The emptily busy script and only average acting (lead actor Cameron Monaghan is wooden and sometimes stiffer than the dead) don't help either. It's no coincidence that the one place where dramatic pretensions are dropped and we're allowed to just enjoy the spectacle of a mean spirit going berserk- where the much angrier ghost Frances shows her true colors after her place gets burned down- also happens to be the one scene in the whole film that at least stirs up some decent tension.

Filmfest Hamburg: Bande de filles (Girlhood)

French writer/director Céline Sciamma's teenage drama "Bande de filles (Girlhood)" chronicles one girl's journey of self-discovery with great energy and compassion. Propelled by a charismatic central performance, it's tenderly involving all the way through, even if the narrative slackens here and there.

An efficient set-up quickly fills us in on the plight of the underprivileged heroine Marieme. Stuck in the projects with too many extracurricular obligations, she doesn't have the grades to advance in school, can't see her prospects and has fury to burn. It's not long before a clique of girls pick up on that restlessness and take her under their wings. With a newfound sense of empowerment and an outlet for all her frustrations, Marieme thrives with this group of friends. But dealings with that side of the law ultimately lead her down a path that, for all the fun and liberation it brings, is not necessarily her own.

The director shows a superb grasp of female camaraderie as well as the groove of the youthful and proudly African. While she describes the racial tension and the familial problems surrounding the gang well enough, the best scenes of the movie are inevitably those that are strictly, simply celebratory.To watch these tough young women dress up in stolen clothes just for the sake of the others and party in a hotel room all by themselves, the momentary bliss that seems to block out all the failed efforts and crushed dreams of the world outside really rubs off on you. The possibly indulgent but nonetheless infectiously happy Rihanna sing-along showcases the heavenly rhythm and vibe that only black people seem to possess.

Lead actress Karidja Touré delivers a star turn as the willful, persistent girl looking for a way out. Although the open-ended way the film concludes feels lazier than inspired and leaves too much in the air blatantly unanswered, it's a fully realized performance that stands on its own and prompts you to fill in the blanks.

Filmfest Hamburg: 勝利 (Uncle Victory)

Chinese writer/director 張猛 (Meng Zhang)'s kindergarten-set gangster dramedy "勝利 (Uncle Victory)" is a positively squirm-worthy clunker where the gags fall short and the tearjerks turn sour, where efforts are put in all the wrong places and just about nothing works.

Following a brief, cheesily CG'ed opening sequence we meet the title character, a heavily tattooed ex-thug recently released from jail after a ten-year stint. His broad, exaggerated body language, heavily featured in the first scenes of the movie, suggests a lowbrow laugher in the style of Hong Kong comedic genius 周星馳 (Stephen Chow). Not long afterwards, however, the camera cuts to a gigantic construction site where an entire gorge seems to have been gutted open, and sentimental music starts to play as the ghastly sight is lamented by some other thuggy-looking people and hints of an unsettled score are dopped. Thanks to some rough editing, the movie already seems narratively confusing and tonally schizophrenic by then. Some additional, not especially plausible turns of events then motivate the protagonist to run his own preschool. Together with a dancer from a nearby club, these two unlikely educators start to recruit and take care of kids and theoretically, hilarity ensues. Theoretically.

Hilarity doesn't ensue for several reasons. Besides resorting to the obvious slapstick, the screenplay can't come up with jokes with a longer fuse or a deeper reach. The acting is subpar. Lead actor 黃海波 (Haibo Huang)'s willingness to engage in embarrassing acts of simplistic construct is respectable, but funny he's not. Lead actress 張歆藝 (Xinyi Zhang) performs on an even more superficial level and comes across terribly affected. This movie is also a case where defaults in the technical department undermines the storytelling. Except for a few isolated shots where one sees consciously composed imagery, the cinematography is drably pedestrian, dampened further by some gaudy art direction. The dialogue dubbing is conspicuously poor, diminishing the immediacy of the punchlines still more.

The biggest problem probably lies in the direction, though. Doggedly juxtaposing the kiddie humor and a deadly serious revenge plot without finesse leaves the film limping between comedy and drama, mainstream and hardcore. The supposedly crowdpleasing finale with the school performance and the blood-stained mascot backfires in so many ways it's sad to watch.

Filmfest Hamburg: Tu dors Nicole (You're Sleeping Nicole)

Canadian writer/director Stéphane Lafleur's female slacker movie "Tu dors Nicole (You're Sleeping Nicole)" has cute, witty dialogue sprinkled throughout and recurrent flashes of visual/aural flourish, but as a feature film there's just not enough material or structure to make it feel present, memorable, consequential.

Set in suburban Canada, the young protagonist has the house to herself and a long summer ahead with the parents away on vacation and her first credit card in hand. The brother soon moves in with his rock band, whose new drummer seems to have the right stuff for a romantic fling. The best friend talks her into booking a spontaneous trip to Iceland, only to back off from the plan herself. And then there's the ex-boyfriend with his new wife cruising around and the skinny kid from the neighborhood with a newly dropped, ingeniously dubbed voice making age-inappropriate advances... While plenty of events seem to take place, they're not driven by a central narrative and appear altogether peripheral, decorative. Besides acquainting the audience with these characters, the story barely progresses after the entire first hour.

Here and there we're treated to deceptively goofy passages that strike a chord with their take on the folly of life. And the black-and-white photography, while not always looking crisp or high-contrast enough, does give us some yummy, warmly atmospheric shots, often accompanied by psychedelic, indie-spirited music. One can also hardly fault lead actress Julianne Côté, who not only makes a strong physical impression with her boyishly square chin and high forehead, but is also quite winsome with her open looks of impatience, suspicion, relief. But overall, the movie is way too lax to make any substantial impact. Above all else it serves as an additional reminder of just how miraculous an achievement the similarly themed and styled German stunner "Oh Boy" was.