Movie Reviews – Page 304 – LFM: Libertas Film Magazine

Tribeca 2012: LFM Reviews Death of a Superhero

By Joe Bendel. Drawing evil vixens and costumed crime-fighters usually is not the best way of winning over high school girls. Unfortunately, Donald Clarke does not have long to figure that out. He is dying of leukemia, but has a few obvious teenager goals he would like to accomplish first in Ian Fitzgibbon’s Death of a Superhero, which screens at the 2012 Tribeca Film Festival.

Clarke is an understandably angry young man. If he was not socially awkward before, his bald head leads him to retreat further into himself. His only satisfaction comes from his comic art and his escalating graffiti escapades. Hoping to improve his state of mind, his well meaning parents take him to Dr. Adrian King, an art therapist who specializes in helping terminally ill patients come to terms with their mortality. Shrewdly, King does not try too hard to win Clarke’s confidence, thereby establishing a level of comfort between them. About the same time, Clarke meets a rather cute and rebellious transfer student he might actually stand a chance with, if he is not distracted by stupid high school pettiness.

Periodically, interludes of Heavy Metal-style animation provide a glimpse inside Clarke’s head, depicting his alter-ego battling The Glove, a Doctor Doom-like villain symbolizing his illness, and enduring the torments of the shapely Nurse Worsey, who embodies all his pent-up angst. Frankly, they are cool enough to give Superhero a genre appeal such material would not ordinarily hold. However, the third act may seem familiar to some viewers, following almost precisely the same narrative path as Ian Barnes’ Oscar nominated 2009 short film Wish 143. Since Anthony McCarten adapted Superhero from his own 2006 novel, you can assume whatever you will.

Thomas Brodie-Sangster is convincingly bitter and troubled as Clarke, but he has some nice chemistry with Aisling Loftus as his potential girlfriend. Taking a break from the motion-capture suits, Andy Serkis also demonstrates wise restraint as Dr. King, making this movie shrink exponentially easier to take than Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting.

It is hard to imagine a dying teenager film that refrains from heart-tugging manipulation, and Superhero is certainly no exception. Yet the retro noir animation gives it a real edge. That unique look and several well tempered performances help earn its inevitable big emotional crescendo. Surprisingly effective, Death of a Superhero screens during the 2012 Tribeca Film Festival next Friday (4/27), Saturday (4/28), and Sunday (4/29), with a regular theatrical release soon to follow.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on April 20th, 2012 at 3:56pm.

Tribeca 2012: LFM Reviews Rat King

By Joe Bendel. Hardcore gamer Juri needs to get a life and some sun. He is starting to lose touch with those closest to him. Instead, he gets a double to help him play his most challenging game yet. This leads to complications in Petri Kotwica’s Rat King, which screens during the 2012 Tribeca Film Festival, now officially underway in festive New York City.

Juri does not even know what his two best friends look like. They are gaming buddies he met online. Unfortunately, after logging-off from their last first-person shooter outing, they have maintained an eerie internet silence, disturbing Juri to no end. Suddenly, Niki shows up in the flesh. Evidently his two comrades got involved with a game of a more ominous sort. Now their mutual pal is dead and Niki is in hiding. Yet, like the hopeless addict he is, Juri cannot resist logging on to the sinister program.

Niki agrees to help Juri navigate the game, in exchange for secretly sheltering him. Rather than a video game, it is more of an online RPG that demands Juri – or ‘Rat King,’ as he has been dubbed- to perform a series of real world tasks which quickly escalate into rather dangerous territory. Meanwhile, Niki takes Juri’s place in the offline life he has been ignoring. After all, one pale geeky high school student is as good as another, right?

Rat King cleverly plays on a lot of the fears and paranoia of the gamer subculture. It is also perfectly cast, co-starring Max Ovaska and Julius Lavonen, two well established young Finnish actors who really could pass for twins. However, it rashly barges into some treacherous ground when the plot turns toward a potential Columbine incident, inviting comparisons to films like Tetsuya Nakashima’s brilliant Confessions, but lacking comparable gravitas and power.

Still, Finnish thriller specialist Kowica skillfully pulls viewers into this noir world, insidiously building the tension. Ovaska and Lavonen are both quite good as the doppelganger-gamers, credibly looking and acting like high school kids that are a bit off.

It seems fitting that John Badham’s WarGames, the grandfather of all out of control online game movies, will also have a ticketed retrospective screening at this year’s Tribeca, because the two films would make an intriguing pairing. While not a classic, Rat King it is a solid meat-and-potatoes thriller executed with a fair degree of style. Recommended for gamers and those who frequently lose patience with them, Rat King screens again tomorrow (4/20) and the following Friday (4/27) as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on April 20th, 2012 at 3:53pm.

Humanism vs. Authoritarianism in Education: LFM Reviews Monsieur Lazhar

By Patricia Ducey. Oh, Canada! Every so often, out from beneath the ice and snow of our northern neighbor, emerges a film so en pointe that it seems intended for an American audience. Like The Barbarian Invasions, another French Canadian offering, with its stinging comparison of Canada’s health system to ours, Monsieur Lazhar takes on education — and the well meaning but destructive political correctness that apparently stultifies both our systems. But beyond the concerns of the day, Monsieur Lazhar resonates in the tradition of school teacher movies from The Children’s Hour to Stand and Deliver, embracing the light and dark tones of both – and is totally affecting, earning its many Canadian awards and nomination for the Academy’s Best Foreign Film Oscar.

Algerian-born comedian and humorist Mohamed Fellag stars as Bachir Lazhar, the substitute teacher in a Montreal grade school class that recently lost its beloved teacher Martine through suicide, a death seen as even more horrific because she hanged herself in the classroom where she knew the children would find her. The story opens as Lazhar, an asylum seeker from Algeria, interviews for a substitute teacher position with the school’s principal, Mme. Vaillancourt (Danielle Proulx). He has read about the teacher’s death in the paper and presents his CV to the harried principal.

She soon hires him and he begins his work with the bereaved class. First off, he is mystified by the classroom setup, where all the desks form little semi-circles to enhance the team approach to learning (to avoid any child being shamed by giving a wrong answer). He orders the desks rearranged in orderly rows. Each child is now an individual again, on his or her own – which awkward use of the personal pronoun brings me to Lazhar’s next problem. In a grammar lesson the children school him on the “new” system of pronouns they must use – pure edu-babble – to what end, he cannot fathom but he accedes. The school psychologist arrives, and chides him to leave the handling of grief that bubbles up unbidden from the children to her, as if this human and empathetic activity could not possibly be managed by a non-professional. Finally, a boy acts up in class, and Lazhar cuffs him lightly on the cheek. This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and the principal brings him in for a meeting, where she informs him of modern educational rules – among them, no touching of a child, ever — not even to put sunscreen on a child, as the gym teacher recounts.

But Bachir’s students thrive in the new, structured environment. More importantly, they trust the empathy that comes from his heart and from his experience. The adults, who are “freaking out” more than the kids, apply and misapply silly nostrums that ultimately make the kids feel worse. But his story and the kids’ grief are connected, and we learn more about the troubled boy Simon and his connection to the tragic Martine, and of Bachir and the reason that he is alone in Montreal. Suffice it to say that he and his family fell victim to another system that repressed and forbade certain kinds of speech and carried that diktat to calamitous ends. He knows all too well what lies at the end of this utopian vision, and eventually he must decide where he will draw the line. As they come together, both stories echo the themes of the movie, both personal and political.

Philippe Falardeau, who won the Canadian best director for this film – and deservedly so – suppresses any tendency towards cuteness or sentimentality, with a totally naturalistic look and feel of a wintry Montreal. His actors do not appear fussed over by stylists or makeup staff, and they seem to live and work in cluttered, lived in spaces. In addition, he wisely pulls back the dialogue and direction when histrionics or sappiness would have been easy, yet this subtle and understated style makes the eventual impact even more transcendent.

MLazhar2 — Mohamed Fellag as Bachir Lazhar.

Fellag is endearing, sometimes humorous, and conveys much emotion with the lift of an eyebrow. Sophie Nélisse as Alice and Émilien Néron as Simon, the children who discover the teacher’s body, rise to equal footing with Fellag and the other adults with performances so artful and natural that Falardeau and his young actors must be commended. (Here Falardeau talks with critic Dan Persons about the film, and gives what amounts to a master class in directing children. Hollywood directors, take a listen.)

The film does indeed honor the power of the student-teacher relationship, its power to heal and to inspire, but it also calls into question the folly of the authoritarian impulse that undergirds so much of education today. In the end, Bachir stands for humanism and, paradoxically perhaps, order. They hinge one upon the other – he knows that one child is not interchangeable with another, and that each child flourishes best in an atmosphere of basic order paired with open, honest communication. The movie ends fittingly with Bachir’s final act of defiance against the regime — a small act, but one perfectly in keeping with his larger lesson to the kids that “a classroom is a place of friendship, of work, of courtesy, a place of life.”

Posted on April 17th, 2012 at 3:19pm.

Conscripted by The Soviets, Nazis & Imperial Japanese: LFM Reviews My Way

By Joe Bendel. Kim Jun-shik could have been an Olympic champion marathoner, but the milestones defining his life involve involuntary military service. Impressed into the Imperial Japanese, Soviet, and National Socialist armies, Kim’s journey ultimately brought him to Omaha Beach on D-Day. It is an epic story (rather loosely based historical fact), told with appropriate grit and grandeur in Kang Je-kyu’s My Way (trailer above), which opens this Friday in New York.

Kim could always run fast, and from a young age his fate will be intertwined with that of Tatsuo Hasegawa. The grandson of a high-ranking Japanese officer, Hasegawa quickly becomes Kim’s primary competition on the track. Not surprisingly, the Japanese authorities put the fix in for Hasegawa at the Olympic trials, precipitating a full scale riot among outraged Korean spectators. Forced into the Japanese military as punishment, Kim eventually finds himself serving under Hasegawa, a harsh martinet in the tradition of his grandfather.

Needless to say, the campaign in Mongolia does not go well. Leading his men into a crushing defeat, Hasegawa is captured, along with Kim and several fellow Korean conscripts. Conditions in the Soviet labor camp are unbearably brutal, except for Kim’s friend Jong-dae, who becomes the Communist enforcer amongst the prisoners. Not unexpectedly, he reserves the harshest mistreatment for the Japanese, particularly Hasegawa, which troubles Kim despite their checkered history. When the war temporarily turns against the Soviets, the prisoners are given a grimly illegal choice: summary execution or service on the Eastern Front. Both are essentially death sentences.

Somehow surviving the ensuing carnage, Kim and Hasegawa head west, ready to declare themselves Japanese POWs when they encounter the Germans. Ironically, the conditions of service under the Nazis appear relatively mild compared to their stints with the Soviets and militarist Japanese, at least for a while. However, there are eerie (if unsubtle) parallels between all three militaries that clearly demonstrate the underlying similarities of oppressive regimes.

Like a cross between Saving Private Ryan and Chariots of Fire, My Way is a sprawling chronicle of sport, combat, and statist regimes that employs its flashback structure quite adroitly. There are a number of spectacularly rendered large scale battle scenes (in which it definitely helps to be swift of foot), but the film still packs a real emotional punch, particularly when depicting Kim’s brief relationship with Shirai, a captured Chinese sniper out to avenge her family.

One of the world’s most beautiful women, Fan Bingbing is absolutely heartbreaking as Shirai. Yet, it is Jang Dong-gun and Joe Odagiri who really carry the weight of the picture, as Kim and Hasegawa, respectively. They convincingly portray the two soldiers’ evolution from bitter enemies to stateless brothers-in-arms. On paper, much of their narrative would sound forced, but they make it work on-screen every step of the way.

Audiences should look past the oddly nondescript title, because it is hard to imagine there will be a better war film this year than My Way. Considerably superior to The Front Line, it is a cinematic saga worthy of the 70mm Cinemascope era. Highly recommended, it opens this Friday (4/20) in New York at the AMC Empire, the Beekman Theatre, and the Village East.

Posted on April 16th, 2012 at 3:09pm.

The Soho International Film Festival: LFM Reviews The Small Assassin, Based on Ray Bradbury’s Short Story

By Joe Bendel. Ray Bradbury is cool. His story of infant paranoia first hit the pulps in 1946, decades before Rosemary’s Baby and the subsequent raft of rip-offs. Though mostly likely not supernatural per se, it is definitely a tale of ominous dread, nicely captured in Chris Charles’ faithful short film adaptation of The Small Assassin (trailer here), which screens Monday as part of the 2012 Soho International Film Festival.

Alice Leiber had a rough delivery, culminating with a caesarian section. Exhausted, she is convinced her baby was deliberately trying to kill her. Dr. Jeffers warns her husband David she is still a bit overwrought, but assures him it will pass. Of course, her obsessive terror gets progressively worse instead. Yet there are signs her fears just might be justified.   Again, it is important to emphasize Bradbury staked out this territory first – because the smaller, more intimate scale of the Grand Master’s story is arguably more disconcerting than the satanic horror cranked out by Polanski’s imitators. Charles and cinematographer Kevin Moss give it an appropriately moody, noir treatment that is also rather stylish. Indeed, it is quite a handsome production, well appointed with rich post-war, pre-Mad Men period detail.   While there might be more is-he-or-isn’t-he ambiguity in the original story, Charles still builds the suspense skillfully. Most importantly, he has a shrewd sense of what to show and what to leave unseen.

A festival circuit road warrior finally arriving in the City, Small Assassin is a well crafted short-form dark thriller that effectively demonstrates the talents of Charles and his filmmaking collaborators, while highlighting the depth and diversity of Bradbury’s literary oeuvre. Recommended without reservation for genre audiences, Assassin screens before a feature tonight (4/16) during the Soho Film Festival (at the Landmark Sunshine) and will be available to a wider national audience later this year through the Shorts International and IndieFlix distribution platforms.

Posted on April 16th, 2012 at 3:05pm.

Red Tape in a Communist World: LFM Reviews Eighty Letters

By Joe Bendel. The Communists loved their paperwork and with good reason. It was one of their most effective tools for controlling people. Yet, Vacek’s mother seems to have a talent for it, navigating the red tape required for immigration while writing four scores of undeliverable missives to his defector father in Václav Kadrnka’s Eighty Letters, which appropriately screens at Bohemia National Hall as part Disappearing Act IV, the annual showcase of films unjustly overlooked after their well received festival runs, co-presented by the Czech Center.

Alarmed to find himself home alone one morning, Vanek catches up with his mother at the tram stop, essentially forcing her to take him with her on her mysterious errands. They do not talk much during the day, but they are not visiting places conducive to conversation. Confused and a bit withdrawn, Vanek whiles away the time in series doctor’s waiting rooms and government lobbies. It is not until we hear his mother’s voiceover composing another letter to his father that we appreciate how close she is to completing the deliberately arduous application process. Of course, that begs the question: then what?

Eighty is a film that refuses to look the audience in the eyes, which might be understandably off-putting for some viewers. Indeed, we watch most of Kadrnka’s pseudo-autobiographical story from sidewalk level, but there is a reason for that. The last time I was in Prague I asked my Czech friends why everyone identified me as an American before I ever spoke a word of awful Czech. My nondescript wardrobe was hardly a giveaway. They said it was because of the way I held my head up when I walked. Seeing this film helps explain that answer.

Unfolding from Vanek’s POV, Eighty is a quiet film with quite a bit of running through the streets of Prague. It could almost be considered The Red Balloon’s Kafkaesque cousin. Unfortunately, Zuzana Lapcikova and Martin Pavlus are strangely cold screen presences. However, they certainly look and feel convincing as mother and son.

Kadrnka masterfully sets the mood and frames his shots. Despite the emotional aloofness of the cast, it is an interesting film to watch purely for its craftsmanship. It is certainly worth a look, particularly this Sunday (4/15) when it screens free at BNH as Disappearing Act IV continues in New York. It is also a great opportunity to catch up with Jaak Kilmi and Kiur Aarma’s wonderfully sly and illuminating documentary Disco and Atomic War (see here and here), which also screens for free on Sunday, right before Eighty Letters.

Posted on April 13th, 2012 at 2:29pm.