Category: Movie Reviews

Looking for Rocky in Sichuan: LFM Reviews China Heavyweight

By Joe Bendel. Life in China must be improving. They now have round-card girls. Decades ago, Mao banned Olympic-style boxing on the grounds it was too western and excessively violent. He then launched the Cultural Revolution. Legalized in 1986, the Chinese boxing authorities are now taking a long view, recruiting potential Olympians at the middle school level. Yung Chang follows a contender turned coach and two of his fighters in China Heavyweight, which opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

Boxing is an attractive alternative to working in the tobacco fields for many of the students in the Sichuan countryside. The sport has become a way of life for Coach Qi Moxiang. He recruits young boxers, both boys and girls, and directly oversees their training. He is tough, but popular with his charges.

At first, Chang’s primary POV figures appear to be He Zongli and Miao Yunfei, two boxers about to graduate to the regional level of competition. We see a fair amount of training and the mean condition of life in the province that they hope to escape. However, Heavyweight kicks into narrative gear about halfway through, when Qi decides to return to the ring to face a Japanese belt-holder. Suddenly, there is a traditional underdog boxing story unfolding in Sichuan.

Heavyweight is highly attuned to the economic disparities of contemporary China as well as the conflicts between tradition and the drive to modernize. However, Chang largely overlooks Sichuan’s recent tragic history. Rocked by an earthquake in May of 2008, anger boiled over at the local authorities for allowing the shoddy construction practices that acerbated its deadly toll. Sichuan could use a champion, but that might not be in the interests of the vested establishment.

Still, Chang has a good handle on the conventions of boxing movies, capturing some dramatic ringside action. There is even a scene of Qi’s boxers running up a series of ancient steps that echoes a certain film from 1976. He and cinematographer Sun Shaoguang also convey the harsh and lonely beauty of the surrounding terraced landscape. Viewers get a sense of the milieu, but besides Qi, the boxers’ personalities are not so strongly delineated (He is the shy one, while Miao is the slightly more confident one).

Shifting from an observational doc into old fashioned sports story, Heavyweight becomes more engaging as it goes along. The development of organized boxing post-Maoist insanity is a story worth telling, but as a socio-economic investigation, it is not nearly as telling as a raft of recent depressing Chinese documentaries, such as Zhao Liang’s jaw-dropping expose Petition, or the uncomfortably intimate Last Train Home, helmed by Heavyweight co-executive producer Lixin Fan. Oddly recommended more for the audience of HBO’s Real Sports than for serious China watchers, China Heavyweight opens this Friday (7/6) at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on July 3rd, 2012 at 2:43pm.

A Coming of Age Story for All Ages: LFM Reviews Starry Starry Night @ The 2012 New York Asian Film Festival

By Joe Bendel. It is tough being the kid with an artistic temperament in school. Having trouble at home is a double whammy for both Mei and Jay. At least they have each other’s support in Tom Shu-yu Lin’s Starry Starry Night, an exquisitely sensitive portrait of young love that opens this Friday in New York following its 2012 New York Asian Film Festival screening this afternoon.

Jay is a shy kid with a remarkable talent for creating art. He has a hard time making friends, because he and his mom must constantly move to new addresses. Mei has many friends, but is not particularly close to any of them. Her mother has taught to appreciate fine art through the jigsaw puzzles they use to put together as a family. Unfortunately, her parents are now too busy fighting to spend quality time with her. She feels her closest connection to her aging grandfather, who lives in a Kinkadean cabin in the woods, until she meets Jay.

At first it is a case of fascination for Mei, but as she and Jay share their mutual interests, an innocent friendship blossoms into innocent love. Grieving her grandfather and upset by the announcement of her parents’ impending divorce, she leads Jay on a journey to the late woodworker’s cottage nestled deep in the mountains.

In a nutshell, Starry could be considered the Taiwanese Moonrise Kingdom, except its young protagonists are far more endearing and their troubles are considerably more real. The closing credits even feature illustrations from Jimmy Liao’s picture book, upon which the film is based. Yet despite the more liberal use of CGI, bringing to life origami animals animated by the duo’s purity of spirit, Starry is much more grounded. Indeed, the emotional stakes involved in growing up and caring for others are quite real throughout Lin’s sympathetic screenplay.

Young Josie Xu carries a disproportionate share of the film’s dramatic load, but she is fantastic as Mei. Charming and vulnerable as circumstance demand, it is a remarkably assured screen performance. While his character is more reticent and reserved, Eric Lin Hui Ming is also quite compelling in Jay’s big revelatory scenes. Starry also boasts a special, too-significant-to-be-a-cameo appearance by Kwai Lun Mei in an epilogue completely one-upping anything Nicholas Sparks ever wrote.

True, Starry is not afraid of a little sentiment, but it earns its pay-off, every step of the way. Firmly but elegantly helmed by Lin, the film treats its young characters and their dilemmas with refreshing respect. Its lush, animated backdrops are truly striking, but the film never really engages in magical realism, per se. It is merely amplifying the feelings of its charismatic leads. Nonetheless, it is quite visually dynamic (with particular credit due to Penny Tsai Pei-ling’s design team), capturing the essence of Liao’s book. Enormously satisfying and hugely commercial, it is precisely the sort of international film that can break into the mainstream. Highly recommended for general audiences, Starry Starry Night opens this Friday (7/6) in New York at the AMC Empire and in Seattle at the AMC Pacific Place, courtesy of China Lion Entertainment.

LFM GRADE: A+

Posted on July 3rd, 2012 at 2:42pm.

Robert Flaherty & The Origins of the Documentary: LFM Reviews A Boatload of Wild Irishmen

By Joe Bendel. Robert Flaherty is considered the father of documentary filmmaking. With Nanook of the North, he not only launched the modern documentary film genre, he also introduced the ethical questions that continue to dog non-fiction filmmakers. The legacy of Flaherty and the relatively small handful of films he actually completed is explored in Mac Dara Ó Curraidhín’s A Boatload of Wild Irishmen, which screens as part of this week’s Robert Flaherty series at the Anthology Film Archives.

Boatload opens with the dramatic closing scene of Flaherty’s masterwork, Man of Aran (see above). Struggling against a powerful surge, the salt-of-the-earth fishermen fight their way to shore. Flaherty did not just happen to be in the right place at the right time to capture the action, however. He either sent them out into the roiling tide, or they volunteered to go. Accounts differ, but everyone seems to agree the money Flaherty was offering played a role. Even then it would not have been much by Hollywood standards, but to residents of the Ireland’s hardscrabble Aran Island, it was significant.

Indeed, Boatload’s various on-screen commentators make it clear that staging scenes was a major part of Flaherty’s working method. Opinions regarding the Irish-American filmmaker appear to be mixed at best amongst contemporary Aran Islanders and Irish film scholars. However, such criticism of Flaherty’s authenticity is largely based on current standards of documentary filmmaking, which are rather selectively applied.

Groundbreaking documentary filmmaker Robert Flaherty (far right).

Ó Curraidhín paints a picture of Flaherty as more of an adventurer than an auteur. Rather than Jacob Riis, P.T. Barnum would be better considered his forerunner. So what if he did stage a scene, or a dozen? It was for the sake of a good show. In contrast, when recent documentaries like Gasland play veracity games, it is far more serious, because they are advocacy broadsides, arguing for punitive measures targeting specific companies and industries.

Clearly, Flaherty was not a take-only-pictures-leave-only-footprints kind of documentarian, as the interview with his Inuit granddaughter fully attests. Yet the Samoans still regularly screen Flaherty’s Moana, enjoying the sight of their ancestors on-screen, even if the episodes they are recreating were from generations before them. Obviously, the point is that there are many different ways to come to terms with Flaherty’s small oeuvre.

Refraining from passing judgment on Flaherty, Boatload emphasizes his larger than life persona and the lasting audience for his films. Ultimately, the people have spoken. Considerably more film patrons will attend screenings of Flaherty’s films this year than those of silent western superstar Tom Mix by a wide margin, a trend that continues this week at AFA. Informative and evenhanded, A Boatload of Wild Irish is a satisfying survey of Flaherty’s work and controversies. Recommended for those who enjoy films about filmmaking, it screens this Saturday through next Monday (7/7-7/9) in New York at the Anthology Film Archives.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on July 3rd, 2012 at 2:41pm.

LFM Reviews 10+10 @ The 2012 New York Asian Film Festival

By Joe Bendel. Taiwan is a country with a tragic history and rich legacy of pop music. Both factor prominently when ten established Taiwanese filmmakers and ten emerging new talents were commissioned by the Taipei Golden Horse Film Festival to create a five minute films expressing the country’s unique character. The resulting anthology 10+10 screens this coming Thursday as an official selection of the 2012 New York Asian Film Festival.

Viewers going into 10+10 should not get hung up on consistency. These twenty filmmakers will cover a lot of emotional and thematic ground. The tension between tradition and modernization will be a recurring motif, beginning with Wang Toon’s opener, in which a bickering pair of cousins treks up to a remote shrine. They intent to curry favor with the spirits by showing them the 3-D DVD of Avatar. It is a quiet but clever piece.

Nostalgia is also on tap in Wu Nien-jen’s A Grocery Called Forever. Depicting a spirited elderly woman who insists on keeping her family’s corner store open, it is a pleasant slice of life. Taiwan’s aging population play central roles in several constituent films, perhaps most touchingly in Cheng Wen-tang’s Old Man and Me. Told from the persona of a now deceased man suffering from Alzheimer’s, it serves as his thank-you to the townspeople who searched the countryside for him when he wandering off to his demise.

Given the approximate five minute durations, many of the installments are rather sketch-like. Indeed, entries like Wang Shaudi’s Destined Eruption and Yang Ya-che’s The Singing Boy seem to end just as they are getting started. However, several pack quite a bit of narrative into their limited running times. Somehow, Chang Tso-Chi’s Sparkles shoehorns the entire 1949 Battle of Kinmen Island into less than ten minutes. A powerful war film, it follows an innocent girl being escorted to the island’s doctor by the Nationalists, as they desperately try to hold off the invading Communists.

From "The Debut."

Featuring plenty of explosions, Sparkles is probably one of the most NYAFF-esque films in 10+10. The other would be Chung Mong-hong’s satisfyingly dark Reverberation. What starts as a teenaged bullying drama takes a dramatic u-turn into gangster territory. Karma will be a hard thing.

Easily the strongest shorts are those directly inspired by music. Chen Kuo-fu’s The Debut is a lovely ghost story, portraying the spectral encouragement offered to a discouraged pop ingénue by one of the great torch singers from yesteryear. Likewise, Rendy Hou Chi-jan pays tribute to the sentimental ballads of the 1960’s, depicting one song’s power to transcend time. Ranking just a notch below the lyrical pair, Cheng Yu-chieh’s Unwritten delivers some ironic laughs satirizing the concessions made by the Taiwanese film industry to the mainland market. Frankly, it is increasingly relevant to Hollywood as well.

Not every film works particularly well. Wei Te-sheng’s Debut ought to be a DVD extra for his aboriginal war drama Seediq Bale, essentially following his first-time actor Lin Ching-tai as they take the epic to the Venice Film Festival. Arguably, the low point comes with Kevin Chu Yen-ping’s uncomfortably manipulative and awkwardly didactic The Orphans.

From Wang Toon’s opening short in "10+10."

Surprisingly, there is a fair amount of star power in 10+10, including Shu Qi looking typically radiant in marquis contributor Hou Hsiao-hsien’s slight but nonetheless engaging closer La Belle Epoque. Kwai Lun Mei also graces Leon Dai’s oomph-lacking Key. Despite attempts to glam her down, she remains a vivid screen presence.

By their nature, anthology films are inherently uneven. Yet there are enough good things going on in 10+10 to satisfy connoisseurs of either short films or Asian cinema. On balance, it is an effective sampling of Taiwanese cinema, well worth a look when it screens this coming Thursday (7/5) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on July 2nd, 2012 at 1:31pm.

Thai Bikini Zombie Attack: LFM Reviews Dead Bite @ The 2012 New York Asian Film Festival

By Joe Bendel. If a group of bikini-clad women are attacked by marauding zombies, you are apt to see a lot of bikini-clad zombies before long. That inescapable logic is pretty much the guiding principle for Joey Boy’s Dead Bite (trailer here), which screens with authority during the 2012 New York Asian Film Festival.

Joey Boy is a Thai rapper, who convinced his group, Gankor Club, to play themselves in his scrappily independent zombie-mermaid religious cult movie, probably with the help of their co-stars’ wardrobe. Due to the framing device, we know Gankor Club’s latest gig went profoundly wrong. Basically, it was supposed to be the old three hour cruise, shooting promotional videos while partying with some gorgeous women. Unfortunately, they chose the wrong isle: Mermaid Island.

The first clue would be the marine zombies shambling out of the waves. Trying to take refuge inland, they run smack into the Forest Goddess, who rules her Mermaid sect through fear and sexual tension. Of course, Joey Boy and his mates had no idea what they were stumbling into. Yet, for some reason inexplicably connected to WWII, Japanese tourist Miyuki intentionally came to Mermaid Island to plunder a mermaid mummy. It might hold the secret of immortality or something. Meanwhile, the Gankor dudes are dying like flies and then popping up again as the undead.

Dead Bite is sort of like a Piranha 3D, except it is 2D and Thai, both of which make it way cooler. Evidently, Joey Boy and Gankor Club are the real deal in Thailand and also have major cred with their American counterparts. As actors they certainly do not seem very self-conscious, throwing themselves into their Scooby and Shaggy roles with admirable energy.

Thai zombie girls.

As an auteur, Joey Boy keeps it all quite snappy. There is also a strange postmodern aspect to his self-referential story that might be purely accidental. Of course, Dead Bite would not be possible without its game supporting cast of attractive women, including Kumiko Sugaho and Lakana Wattanawongsiri as Miyuki and the Forest Goddess, respectively, whose contributions are obvious. Despite all the lunacy and ogling, they more or less maintain their dignity throughout. Surely their next stop will be Cannes with Joe “Uncle Boonmee” Weerasethakul.

It is nice to see a director’s vision up on-screen, knowing he made exactly the film he intended. Gleefully manic and unabashedly randy (in a PG-13 sort of way), Dead Bite is everything a zombie beach movie ought to be. Just good, clean, blood-splattered fun, it is highly recommended for fans of a wide array of B-movies when it screens next Friday (7/6) and the following Wednesday (7/11) as this year’s NYAFF continues at the Walter Reade Theater.

Posted on July 2nd, 2012 at 1:29pm.

Mythic Themes in Pixar’s Brave

By Patricia Ducey. In a magical Celtic kingdom far, far away, lovely queen Elinor and her consort king Fergus are choosing a suitable husband for their daughter – but their sassy tomboy princess is one of those grrls who thinks she needs a man about as much as a fish needs a bicycle. In Pixar’s Brave, little Merida, our headstrong princess, rebels and hies to the forest on her trusty steed, her flaming red curls flying in the wind. Like many cinematic young female protagonists before her — Princess Ann in Roman Holiday, Princess Mia of The Princess Diaries, or even Wendy in Peter Pan — Merida craves independence and adventure as much as any boy or any commoner, and an arranged, political marriage inspires nothing but dread and an overwhelming urge to flee.

Merida’s effort to avoid marriage, which constitutes the first half of the movie, does not muster up much interest or suspense from an adult point of view. But at the midpoint, when Merida escapes into the forest to avoid her fate, the movie enters classical psychoanalytic symbol territory and becomes infinitely more compelling. A tiny CGI creature (think Tinkerbell) leads her deep into the forest, to the hut of an old crone who appears to be a wood carver. Merida soon discovers she can also cast spells, and begs the witch for a spell to help change her mother’s mind about the marriage issue. The witch warns her off – spells are tricky things and can go awry — but Merida brashly insists, and is soon on her way back to her castle, magic cake in hand. She tricks her mother into eating the toxic cake but is stunned when her mother suddenly transforms into a giant bear. The spell indeed has gone tragically wrong — and if Merida cannot break the spell in two days’ time, the transformation will be permanent. Merida has ignored the warning of the crone, and now she could lose her mother, as surely as if she had killed her, and ruin her kingdom, too — as the fragile peace treaty of the clans hinges on the alliance her marriage will create. In addition, the king has vowed revenge on Mordu, a huge killer bear, who had earlier chomped off his foot. Merida knows that Fergus will kill Elinor if he finds her in her bear form, thinking she is Mordu. Now, those are stakes.

Gory, frightening fairy tales are believed by many theorists (Bruno Bettelheim in particular) to be the material manifestations of the issues that children are consciously and subconsciously dealing with. And so Brave deals with Merida’s anxieties at the prospect of growing up, of maturing into a sexual being, and of relinquishing some of her freedom for the bond of love. As in Brave, fairy tales often insist on the need for just that: bravery, to overcome evil and teach children that these difficulties can be overcome. Brave also delves into the Oedipal/Electra conflict, where the child competes with the mother for possession of the father, or of an independent, public life. It is telling that in Merida’s family dynamic, her father Fergus is a bit of a clown (think Braveheart meets Fat Bastard) and plays but a peripheral role in the family. And so Merida’s primal bond, and conflict, rests with her mother. Her mother oversees Merida’s life; she teaches a bored Merida the geography and history of her kingdom, when she really wants to go out hunting; she teaches Merida the proper grooming and deportment of a queen, which Merida ignores to engage in rough sports. In a final betrayal, Elinor plans Merida’s betrothal, but Merida despises what she views as the lowly position of her mother and has no intention of becoming her. The fierce giant bear that Elinor morphs into is thus a symbol of what Merida fears most: a terrible grownup life as a mature woman and queen. Will she kill the mother, so that she can escape her abject fate? There must be a way out of this dilemma!

From Pixar's "Brave."

So Merida calls forth the crone, who then appears to tell her that the only way to reverse the spell is to “mend the bond torn by pride.” It’s up to Merida to figure out which bond, or bonds, she has torn asunder and to fix them. If she refuses to marry any of the suitors chosen by the clans, the peace forged by a long ago treaty could collapse. If she wants to save her mother, she must give up her childish ways and assume the responsibilities of a queen.

Brave‘s animation is beautiful: rolling green hills and misty valleys and dappled sunsets, a change from the bold primary colors of, for instance, the Toy Stories. The only discordant note is the snappy modern dialogue style, which works against the movie’s deep chords of myth and emotion so reminiscent of a Disney film. But Brave is a very good movie for the wee bairns, who will probably enjoy the first half more than you, and fear the impending loss of Merida’s mother as strongly as you.

Can you change your fate, without throwing a fatal wrench into the delicate web of life? Brave, like other myths and legends, suggests we can, with a pure and courageous heart. And that lesson, as the good doctors of the psyche have told us, is a good thing.

Posted on June 28th, 2012 at 3:22pm.