Category: Movie Reviews

LFM Reviews Les Cowboys @ The 53rd New York Film Festival

By Joe Bendel.  The “Love Jihad” or “Romeo Jihad” phenomenon, in which young Muslim men seduce non-Muslim women and teens, enticing them into marriage and conversion, culminating in emotional abandonment and in some cases outright exploitation, has been hotly debated in India, but there are precedents in the West, as well. Betty Mahmoody’s ordeal documented in Not Without My Daughter could be considered an early example. Such is also the case when Alain’s daughter elopes with a budding jihadist, irrevocably fracturing his French family in Thomas Bidegain’s Les Cowboys, which screens as a Main Slate selection of the 53rd New York Film Festival.

Alain, his wife Nicole, sixteen year-old daughter Kelly, and young son “Kid” are French western aficionados, who enjoy kicking up their heels and singing cowboy songs at hoedowns. However, this 1994 round-up will be their last as a family. Much to their shock, Kelly has planned to elope with her secret boyfriend, Ahmed, the radicalized son of assimilated parents. With the help of his Islamist network, they cover their tracks quite thoroughly.

For years, Alain tirelessly searches for them, dragging the obedient Kid along to watch his back. Riffing on John Ford’s The Searchers and Paul Schrader’s Hardcore, Bidegain and co-screenwriter Noé Debré will take Alain into dangerous “No-Go Zones,” before the media was denying their existence. Ultimately, the relentless quest will eventually destroy Alain.

LesCowboysThe Kid will duly pick up his standard, but he will try to be smarter about it. Nevertheless, Kelly’s reported proximity to radical Islamist circles greatly alarms him following the World Trade Center bombings and the London 7/7 attacks. Eventually, he will join an NGO relief organization active in the Middle East, hoping to glean information regarding her whereabouts. A mysterious American ransom-fixer might be able to help, but he demands the Kid ride shotgun on his latest dodgy mission first.

Les Cowboys looks like it might be the sort of film the director lost control of, in a good way. Like John Wayne in The Searchers, Alain is intended to be a portrait of corrosive obsession, but François Damiens (playing radically against his lumpy comedic type) humanizes him too effectively. Likewise, everything we learn about Kelly’s subsequent life suggests it is one of profound misery and regret. Sure, there is some kneejerk “Islamophobia” directed at Shahzana, one of Ahmed’s subsequent wives, forced by circumstance to accept sanctuary with the Kid in France. Yet the scene is question comes across as a clichéd and obligatory tack-on. However, their evolving relationship is arguably rather bold and touching, in a haram kind of way.

Those who know Damiens from frothier films like Heartbreaker or Delicacy may not recognize him as the grizzled Alain, but his performance deserves to be an award-winning career turning point. Finnegan Oldfield’s performance as the older Kid is also quite accomplished, depicting the maturation process with rarely seen complexity and sensitivity. Yet, the chemistry he develops with the arresting Ellora Torchia’s Shahzana is the film’s real knockout punch. As an additional bonus, John C. Reilly hams it up just enough, but not too much as the American security contractor.

Bidegain crafted Les Cowboys with unusual subtly. Details like when and where Kelly and Shahzana wear bandanas and headscarves have real significance. It is an uncompromising family tragedy, but it still manages to be deeply satisfying. There are several scenes that truly stay with you. Surprisingly highly recommended, Les Cowboys screens tonight (10/2) at the Gilman Theater, as part of this year’s NYFF.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on October 2nd, 2015 at 3:11pm.

LFM Reviews Narcopolis

By Joe Bendel. Welcome to a near future dystopia, where legalized drugs are the defining characteristic of the brave new society—or perhaps it is someplace in today’s Colorado, where a lot of British expats have congregated. Since a spotty form of time travel exists in this world, maybe it can be both. However, control over that new temporal technology will lead to even more trouble in Justin Trefgarne’s Narcopolis, which opens this Friday in New York and Los Angeles.

All of the drugs produced by the Ambro Corp come with founder Todd Ambro’s hollow personal guarantee. They are one hundred percent safe, but still head-smackingly effective. As the much abused and neglected son of addicts, he made legalization his personal crusade, so now he maintains his end of the bargain. At least that is the official story. As a narcotics cop or “dreck,” it is Frank Grieves’ job to keep the dangerous unlicensed stuff of the streets—basically anything not produced by Ambro.

Grieves has decidedly mixed emotions about his duties, especially since his corrupt squad chief officer makes no secret of his loyalties to Ambro. He also openly sniffs the company’s products, as is now acceptable in this day and age. Grieves was already on his bad side, but his use of scarce resources on a recent case has further perturbed the corrupt copper. Somehow, he has uncovered a series of bodies and suspects whose DNA is not in the system. Eventually, the elusive and frequently leather-clad Eva Gray will offer him an explanation, but he does not what to hear she is a freedom fighter from the future.

narcopolisNarcopolis is not exactly a complex film, but you will be hard-pressed to explain just what the Ambro Corp is doing, beyond their core legal narcotics business—or why they are doing it, besides their general all-purpose commitment to villainy. Still, there is something darkly compelling about the film’s vision of post-legalization society. Drugs are now almost omnipresent, even in the top levels of the police force. Although its dystopian cityscape owes a clear debt to Blade Runner and its host of followers, the design team still makes it look slick and coolly oppressive.

Elliot Cowan is serviceable enough as Grieves and Jonathan Pryce gamely chews the scenery as the oddball Russian designer chemist Yuri Sidorov. Yet, somehow the characters never seem to connect with the audience or each other. It does not help that the villains are basically vanilla-flavored cardboard. Even more frustrating, Elodie Yung (Netflix’s Daredevil, District 13: Ultimatum) hardly has any chance to show off her action chops as Gray.

We pretty much know from the start who the mystery corpse is, because the film never gives us any other suspects, yet the revelation is still surprisingly potent. In fact, Trefgarne displays a fair degree of skill. Perhaps instead of marrying together a dystopian drug thriller with a time travel fate-changing fable, he should have focused solely on one or the other (probably the former). Let’s just say he’s no Timothy Woodward, Jr. We’d be happy to see another film from Trefgarne. Even though the pieces don’t quite fit together, genre fans should consider checking it out when it hits Netflix. There is something to it, but probably not enough to justify Manhattan ticket prices. Regardless, it opens today (10/2) at the Arena Cinema in LA and screens ‘round midnight this weekend at the IFC Center in New York.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on October 2nd, 2015 at 3:10pm.

LFM Reviews Deathgasm

Deathgasm 1By Joe Bendel.  As long as there are angst-ridden teens, there will be a market for really loud music. Punk has the advantage of its cool anarchist ideology, but there are more bikini-clad women in heavy metal videos. Of course, reality is nothing like that for bullied metalheads like Brodie. However, the satanic apocalypse could reshuffle the social order of Brodie’s white bread New Zealand high school, if he survives it. Heavy metal and demons really do go together like a horse and carriage in Jason Lei Howden’s Deathgasm, which opens this Friday in select theaters and also releases on VOD.

After his mother is institutionalized, Brodie is forced to move in with his Ned Flanderish Uncle Albert, whose jerky jock son goes out of his way to torment him at school. Initially, the only people who will hang out with him are the D&D playing band geeks (C’mon, doesn’t Howden know Pathfinder has taken all of their marketshare?), until he meets Zakk, an older, more sociopathic metalhead. Naturally, they all form a band: Deathgasm. Through an unlikely chain of events, Brodie comes into possession of a heavy metal black mass that literally unleashes H-E-double hockey sticks when they play it.

Anyone within earshot who was not jamming on the tune turns into a bloodthirsty demon. It is all very inconvenient, but at least it gives Brodie an opportunity to kill his family in good conscience. In fact, it turns out Medina, Brodie’s out-of-his-league crush is one of the best demon killers around—and she is developing an ear for heavy metal.

So in Deathgasm you have heavy metal, demons, shadowy satanic cultists, gore with chainsaws, and gore with sex toys—basically everything that made Harry Potter popular with third and fourth graders. Yet, underneath all the blood, guts, and contempt for easy listening, Deathgasm actually has a good heart. Brodie’s halting courtship of Medina is nearly as sweet as it is unlikely. On the other hand, his frienemy antagonism with the jackastical Zakk is certainly believable enough. Still, what really sells the film is Howden’s feel for the disaffected metalhead lifestyle and the outsider appeal of the music. The short-lived character of Rikki Daggers, a legendarily reclusive former metal star is particularly spot-on.

From "Deathgasm."
From “Deathgasm.”

Howden does not exactly reinvent blackly humorous carnage, but he goes about it with admirable enthusiasm. There are a number of spectacularly gruesome gags, which Howden is never afraid to double-down on. As Brodie, Milo Cawthorne sometimes gets annoyingly sad-eyed and mopey, in an Adrien Brody kind of way, but James Blake and Kimberley Crossman bring plenty of energy as Medina and Zakk, respectively.

It should be noted Deathgasm has a stinger that is arguably worth sticking out the credits for. It is a proud meathead movie that delivers the right vibe and the right attitude. Recommended for genre fans who like their films loud and rude, Deathgasm screens after midnight this Friday (10/2) and Saturday (10/3) at the Nitehawk in Brooklyn.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on October 2nd, 2015 at 3:09pm.

LFM Reviews Paradise View @ The Japan Society

ParadiseViewBy Joe Bendel. The Vietnam War is winding down, which some would say is good news, but not necessarily on Okinawa. The separatist rebels should be pleased, but they have been quiet lately. The snakes in the jungle are as deadly as ever, but the greatest danger is losing one’s soul to the rainbow pigs secretly marauding through the rain forest. On paper, it looks like absolutely bedlam, but for the most part, the days are pleasantly languid in Go Takamine’s Paradise View, which screens today as part of the Japan Society’s Monthly Classics series.

Okinawan is spoken throughout Paradise, making it one of the few Japanese films that required Japanese subtitles when it opened domestically. Like the periodic Welsh language film produced in the UK, it was intended as an act of Okinawan cultural affirmation and defiance. Yet, it is hard to imagine getting too worked up in this island village. Granted, nobody is happy per se, but the heat and the spirit-infested air have an anesthetizing effect. Goya Reishu is a case in point. He was once a busy musician working the American military bases, but now he just lays about, gluing teeny-tiny numbers on the ants that fascinate him.

On this island, outsiders like the ethnic Japanese botanist Ito are almost considered foreigners, even though the Japanese government is about to reassert political control of the island. However, he is still a good catch, at least according to Nabee’s mother, who happily arranges their marriage. Unfortunately, all her plans come crashing down when she deduces Nabee is pregnant with Goya’s love child. The shy Chiru is not too happy about it either, considering the torch she has been carrying for Goya. The resulting scandal is bound to end in tears, especially considering the regularity with which people in the village misplace their souls, becoming extremely apathetic mabui.

With its eccentric vibe and unhurried pace, one might also diagnose Paradise with a persistent case of indie-itis, but it never feels self-indulgently twee. Everyone is just too hardscrabble to be cutesy. Although Takamine’s strict budget constraints start to show down the stretch, he still transmits a vividly pungent sense of Okinawa as a specific place with a Shamanistic state of mind. Frankly, there is something seductive about the ebb and flow of the first two acts. You can feel the humidity clouding into your perception, while Takamine takes his time slowly implying bits and pieces of his undisciplined plot. Yet, that elliptical suggestiveness is part of the charm. When things finally start to happen definitively, it rather breaks the spell.

From "Paradise View."
From “Paradise View.”

Kaoru Kobayashi makes an appealingly low key anti-hero as the ant-obsessed slacker, while Jun Togawa is quite touching as the lovelorn Chiru. In fact, the entire ensemble looks appropriately rugged and slightly sunstroke-addled.

Paradise View is the sort of film that insists viewers acclimate themselves to its rhythms. It really transports the receptive viewers to Okinawa, as it was prior to the Japanese Reversion. Even those who cannot synch up with its mysterious atmosphere should still appreciate the novelty of it as an example of rarely seen Okinawan cinema. Recommended for those who appreciates mystical folklore, Paradise View screens tomorrow (10/2) at the Japan Society as their classic of the month.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on October 2nd, 2015 at 3:08pm.

LFM Reviews Jia Zhangke, a Guy from Fenyang @ The 53rd New York Film Festival

By Joe Bendel. Like many filmmakers selected for this year’s New York Film Festival, Jia Zhangke gets more distribution internationally than in his native country. However, in Jia’s case, it is not because he is an elitist or lacks a popular following. In fact, many of his films have been widely seen through bootleg copies. It is simply a matter of government censorship. Despite his uncertain status with the official state film establishment, Jia is received like a favorite son when he revisits his home town and other scenes from his resolutely independent films in Walter Salles’ documentary, Jia Zhangke, a Guy from Fenyang, which screens during the 53rd New York Film Festival.

The concept behind Guy from Fenyang is hardly a new one. Damien Ounouri essentially did the same thing in his hour-long documentary Xiao Jia Going Home from 2008. However, a lot can change in seven years, especially in today’s China. Nor is Jia one to be idle for long. Indeed, as Salles’ doc opens, Jia and actor Wang Hongwei walk through the streets of Fenyang that were lined with karaoke bars when they made their earlyfilms like Platform, but are ominously shuttered now.

For someone who cannot get his films approved for Mainland theatrical distribution, Jia sure has a lot of people approach him on the streets. Yet, he is always gracious about it. He also seems like a dutiful son when he visits his mother and eldest sister. In somewhat oblique fashion, Salles reveals the importance of family to Jia, especially with respect to his father. As a university faculty member, who had the profound misfortune of keeping a diary since his teenage years, the Cultural Revolution was especially difficult on Jia’s dad. It was also hard on his grandmother, who was the widow of a land-owning doctor. Clearly, his family’s experiences have influenced his work, most notably Platform, but there is a nonconformist humanist perspective reflected throughout his work. Of course, that is exactly why he has such trouble with the censors.

From "Jia Zhangke, a Guy from Fenyang."

In addition to Jia, Salles also talks to several of his key collaborators, notably including his wife, muse, and frequent leading lady Zhao Tao, who explains how her life inspired The World. In accordance with Jia’s democratic spirit, Salles also elicits insights from his frequent cinematographer Yu Lik-wai and sound designer Zhang Yang. Fittingly, he liberally illustrates the film with clips of Jia’s work, but none are as evocative as the visually striking (and perhaps comparatively underrated) The World.

Picking up on Jia’s concerns regarding overdevelopment and callous demolition, Salles often compares and contrasts the locales of Jia’s film as they were then with their present radically altered conditions. It is hard to miss the devastation wrought on working class neighborhoods. Although Jia never gets explicitly political, we get a clear idea of the social inequities that distress him.

At one point Jia suggests he makes films about average people living common lives. That is sort of true, but it is nearly impossible for anyone to be average or common during a period of hyper-reality. Jia captures that zeitgeist with vivid directness (see a Touch of Sin for a particularly blistering example). Salles provides the cultural and political context necessary to understand Jia’s significance in contemporary China, while conveying a sense of his resilient personality. Recommended beyond Jia’s admirers for anyone interested in independent Chinese film and culture, Jia Zhangke, a Guy from Fenyang screens this Wednesday (9/30) at the Beale and Thursday (10/1) at the Gilman, as part of this year’s NYFF.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on September 29th, 2015 at 9:21pm.

LFM Reviews Cemetery of Splendour @ The 53rd New York Film Festival

By Joe Bendel. Believe it or not, the Thai government might have picked the absolute worst place for its new military clinic. It only just opened, but its future is already in doubt thanks to the ominous excavation going on around it. In fact, the land in question holds secrets that date back centuries. Still, as one patient observes in a rare moment of lucidity, it is a nice place to sleep. Sleep they will in Apichatpong “Joe” Weerasethakul’s Cemetery of Splendour, which screens during the 53rd New York Film Festival.

This is no ordinary satellite clinic. The patients here all suffer from a severe form of narcolepsy, presumably resulting from shellshock, frequently manifesting in a near catatonic state. They are here to sleep and Jenjira has joined her old friend (and onetime care-giver) Nurse Tet to volunteer. Along with Keng the psychic, she will mostly just sit by their bedsides, tending to their needs should they happen to wake. Despite his unconscious state, she feels increasingly “synchronized” with the still vital looking Itt. When he suddenly rouses, he confirms their connection.

While there are mildly erotic overtones, their relationship is essentially one of surrogate mother and son. After all, Jenjira is quite happily married to the shy but affable American Richard Widner. She devoutly prays for all three of them, leaving offerings at the shrine of two legendary Laotian princesses. They so appreciate her efforts, they come alive to visit Jenjira, warning her the hospital is built atop the burial ground of ancient Thai kings. This is not Poltergeist, but that sort of mixed land use is usually problematic. However, Weerasethakul maintains an ambiguous perspective on potential spirit interference with the living, albeit extremely sleepy patients.

Without question, Cemetery is one of Weerasethakul’s most accessible films to date. Unlike his over-hyped Palme d’Or winner Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, it is fully stocked with richly developed characters and engaging situations. This time around, his forays into natural realism are—dare we say it—quite charming. Yet, there is still that seductive otherworldly vibe and the arresting use of the surrounding landscape.

From "Cemetery of Splendour."

The cast, led by Weerasethakul regular Jenjira Pongpas Widner, also contributes remarkably subtle and finely calibrated performances. Pongpas is wonderfully warm and earthy as her namesake. She develops some fascinatingly ambiguous chemistry with Banlop Lomnoi’s Itt, whose hesitancy and gentleness is strangely poignant. As Nurse Tet, Petcharat Chaiburi nicely balances strength and sensitivity, while Sujittraporn Wongsrikeaw and Bhattaratorn Senkraigul add grace and a spirit of enjoyment as the goddess princesses.

Sort of like the scene of the catfish ravishing the princess in Boonmee, Cemetery has a roughly analogous centerpiece in which attention is lavished on Jenjira’s badly swollen leg. While that was about all Boonmee had going for it, Cemetery needs no such provocative indulgences. In fact, it is an unnecessary distraction from the film’s full-bodied characterizations and redolent sense of place. Despite that misstep and a noticeable third act slackening, Cemetery is a deeply humanistic and surprisingly satisfying excursion into the mystical mysteries hidden in everyday plain sight. Highly recommended for those who appreciate the obliquely fantastical, Cemetery of Splendour screens this Wednesday (9/30) at Alice Tully Hall and Thursday (10/1) at the Beale Theater, as a Main Slate selection of this year’s NYFF.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on September 29th, 2015 at 9:21pm.