Category: Trailers

By Joe Bendel. Anna Karenina won the game of Russian birth roulette. Born into privilege, she initially enjoyed all the benefits of her well structured life, but lost everything due to a reckless love affair. Such was the price of offending Russian society at a time when it was trying to act French. Notions of social role-playing have now inspired the hyper-stylization of Joe Wright’s take on Tolstoy’s classic Anna Karenina, which opens this Friday in New York.

Everyone is playing their socially expected role you see, so why not set Anna Karenina in a creaky old theater? From time to time, Wright will break away from the stagey confines, particularly when checking in on Levin, the rustic landowner and long suffering friend of Karenina’s ne’er do well brother. Of course, there are also trains – like the one taking the title character to Moscow, where she hopes to provide emergency marriage counseling for said brother and his justly aggrieved wife Dolly. It is sort of a pleasant trip spent in the company of the Countess Vronsky, whose cavalry officer son meets her at the station.

The mutual attraction between Karenina and Vronsky are immediately evident, only intensifying at an eventful Moscow society ball. Having thrown over the plodding Levin in hopes of landing Vronsky, Dolly’s younger sister Kitty is deeply hurt when the officer ignores her in favor of the married Karenina. Spooked by the prospect of scandal, she hastens back to St. Petersburg and her husband Karenin, a progressive but culturally traditional government official. As everyone should know, Vronsky follows her—and so does scandal.

There have been enough movie and television treatments to support a lengthy compare and contrast session here. In many ways, Tom Stoppard’s adaptation is quite distinctive, establishing a strong contrast between country simplicity and urban hypocrisy, while finally giving Levin his due. However, Wright’s stylistic conceit is far too distracting, taking viewers out of the story time and time again. The theatrical device is not even particularly original, having been used to greater effect in Manoel de Oliveira’s Satin Slipper, Louis Malle’s Vanya on 42nd Street, and several Shakespearean films. Frankly, it is a rather baffling aesthetic choice, considering the whole appeal of a novel like Anna Karenina is the big messy sweeping grandeur of it all.

Nonetheless, there are several outstanding performances in Wright’s film, especially from his lead, Keira Knightley. It is hard to think of anyone else with the same brittle beauty and aristocratic bearing, who can convey burning self-destructive passion and guilt-ridden anguish with comparable power. Yet the real surprise of Wright’s Karenina is Jude Law’s performance as Karenin, the wronged husband. Even though he looks considerably younger than the Karenin as described in the source novel (about twenty years older than his wife), Law creates a deeply sympathetic portrait of a fundamentally decent man, trying to act accordingly, despite the painful embarrassment of the circumstances.

In contrast, the casting of Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Vronsky is a head-scratcher. In truth, Wright lets his Vronsky off rather easily. In previous versions, Vronsky is something of a shallow cad, but here he is more or less a dumb kid who fell in love too young, but that creates a host of dramatic problems. Essentially, Anna Karenina is supposed to fall for Vronsky, because he is manlier than her husband, not vice versa. What she sees in this Vronsky is hard to fathom. I got stuff in the fridge that looks older than Taylor-Johnson and I’m not ready to throw it out yet.

Granted, Wright’s visual approach lends itself to some dramatic transition shots, but it never lets the film settle in and put down roots. Watching it makes one wonder what the director had in mind. Perversely, it is like Wright elicited award caliber performances from Knightley and Law, but then deliberately undermined them the postmodern theatricality and a maddening case of miscasting. There is room for some experimentation when tackling Tolstoy, but it should serve the interests of the picture. For instance, Sergei Solovyev’s relatively recent Russian production of Anna Karenina was considerably more expressionistic than traditional costume dramas, while staying true to the novel’s tone and story.

It is a shame Wright had to be so showy, because there is quite a bit of good stuff in Stoppard’s screenplay and the mostly impressive work from the accomplished ensemble cast. Recommended mostly for Knightley and Law’s diehard fans, Wright’s frustrating Anna Karenina opens this Friday (11/16) in New York at the AMC Loews Lincoln Square.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on November 14th, 2012 at 11:14am.

By Joe Bendel. When the end of the world comes, Manhattan will be the first to go. Some people may think that’s a blessing. By contrast, it would be a fate worse than death to be trapped with the yoga hippies communing upstate in Benjamin Dickinson’s slightly apocalyptic First Winter, which opens in Williamsburg (of course it does) this Friday.

There is only one reason Paul’s yoga groupies should not be considered a cult; that would imply a degree of organization they lack. Basically, he leads yoga sessions in between getting stoned and sleeping with the women of his choice, until the world ends. Caught up in their own little universe, the yoga minions sort of miss the big bang when it happens. They just see a bit of smoke and wonder what happened to their friends who never came back from town.

They try to carry on as usual, but sexual issues threaten to spoil the scene. For some reason, Paul dumps the cute (particularly for this group) Jen in favor of Marie, a comparatively drab old flame, who reappeared after the apocalypse. Oh, and their supplies are dwindling. Will the hippies be able to become self-sufficient? They live on a farm, after all. Or will they die a cold, hungry death?

Frankly, it is really hard to care – and why should we? Nobody seems too broken up about the unfathomable human tragedy that presumably happened around them. You might think the prospect of no more Phish tours or Deepak Chopra books would get them down, but everyone is more concerned about who is in Paul’s bed, including the jealous but drug addled Matt.

Why anyone would be attracted to the pasty white, scraggly-haired bargain basement guru remains a mystery throughout the film. It certainly cannot be explained by his self-absorbed personality. Unfortunately, the narrative does not offer much snap to distract viewers. In fact, the big climax comes and goes without viewers even realizing it at the time. Ordinarily, this would be a major dramatic shortcoming, but for First Winter, an abrupt ending is a happy surprise.

In all truth, the most interesting thing about First Winter is the controversy surrounding a deer the production reportedly shot out of season for the big hunting scene, without a proper license. Featuring shallow characters and a listless pace, First Winter is a hard, unpleasant slog. Jennifer Kim and Haruka Hashimoto bring some charisma to their namesakes, but it is arguably out of place amongst the rest of the dull cast of characters.

A failure on multiple levels, First Winter makes the presentable but not classic The Road seem like a masterpiece in retrospect. Both films are vague about the nature of “the end,” but in the case of John Hillcoat’s adaptation of the Cormac McCarthy novel, it works in context. In contrast, the Brooklyn hipster’s lack of curiosity is a conspicuous strain on viewer credibility. Not recommended in any way, shape, or form, First Winter begins a six day run at Videology this Friday (11/16) in the County of Kings.

LFM GRADE: F

Posted on November 14th, 2012 at 11:13am.

By Joe Bendel. Ivan Naidyonov could be called the tank whisperer. He seems to have the mystical power to commune with armored vehicles, but his environment is pure blood and guts. War is still war, except more so on the Eastern Front in Karen Shakhnazarov’s White Tiger, which Russia has chosen as their official submission for this year’s foreign language Academy Award.

Hoping to put the debacle of last year’s submission (Friend of Putin Nikita Mikhalkov’s universally panned Burnt By the Sun 2: Citadel) behind them, Russia has opted for another well-connected standard bearer in Mosfilm head Shakhnazarov. However, in this case the quality of the film and the director’s critical reputation represent a considerable step up.

Picking through the remains of a routed Russian tank division, soldiers find a charred driver who is somehow still breathing. Despite suffering severe burns to ninety percent of his body, the tank mechanic makes a full recovery, except for his acute amnesia. Rechristened Ivan Naidoyonov (“found Ivan,” roughly), he is sent back to the tank corps. He is a whiz at fixing and operating tanks, but he is a little spooky. Naidyonov claims tanks speak to him and even starts praying to the “God of tanks” enthroned in the big garage in the sky. Yet he is just the man to track down and destroy the white German super tank that seemingly materializes out of nowhere to wreak destruction on blindsided armored columns.

For Naidyonov it is personal. The spirits of the destroyed tanks have spoken to him about the White Tiger. So perfect are its maneuvers, he is convinced its crew is “dead.” He can sense it before it appears and it seems to be hunting specifically for him.

White Tiger might sound like Life of Pi in a tank, but at every battlefield juncture, Shakhnazarov chooses grit over woo-woo. Everyone thinks Naidyonov is nuts, but they secretly suspect there might be something to him – particularly Major Fedotov, the counter-intelligence officer in charge of the hunt for the White Tiger. The resulting vibe is like The Big Red One as re-written and Russified by Melville.

With his studio’s resources at his disposal, Shakhnazarov stages some fantastic tank battles, vividly conveying their force – and also their limitations. During the first two acts, White Tiger is a completely original, totally engrossing war film. Strangely, though, the final third is largely dominated by completely unrelated scenes of the German surrender and Hitler’s ruminations in the face of defeat. It is like White Tiger won the war, but lost the peace. Still, since it is a war movie, the former is more important.

When Naidyonov and his obsession are center stage, White Tiger is genuinely riveting, with a good measure of credit due to its primary leads. Aleksey Vertkov is perfect as Naidyonov. Refraining from distractingly ticky or showy behavior, he is compellingly “off” in a way that could believably be recycled back into the Soviet war machine. Even though in reality his character would have probably been purged halfway through the film, Vitaliy Kishchenko’s work as the square-jawed Fedotov is similarly smart, understated, and intense.

It is hard to understand why Shakhnazarov would establish such a powerfully focused mood, only to break it up down the stretch. Still, White Tiger boasts two excellent performances and some impressive warfighting sequences, which is more than many of its fellow contenders can offer. Academy voters certainly love them some WWII, so it is probably worth keeping an eye on. Shakhnazarov has also had American distribution for past films like Vanished Empire, so White Tiger should have international legs. Regardless of its odd flaws, it is a film of considerable merit that ought to find an audience.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on November 9th, 2012 at 2:20pm.

By Joe Bendel. In the working class seaside village of Mohang, there is not a lot to do except drink. Fortunately, that is what Hong Sang-soo’s characters do best. Intimacy, on the other hand is a problem – especially for a trio of French women stumbling through cultural and linguistic barriers. Isabelle Huppert plays all three of them in Hong’s sort-of English language debut, In Another Country, which opens today in New York.

Dodging debt collectors, film student Wonju and her mother are laying low in a sleepy Mohang inn. To pass the time, she starts writing a screenplay very much in the style of Hong Sang-soo. It is a triptych in which the French expat Anne comes to the very same hotel under different circumstances, yet has similar experiences each time.

The first Anne is an accomplished filmmaker, who tries to discourage the attentions of a drunken colleague with a very pregnant wife. The second Anne is cheating on her wealthy husband with an almost-famous film director. The third Anne bitterly resents her ex-husband leaving her for a Korean woman, but it is not hard to understand why he dumped her. In each case, she flirts with the meathead lifeguard with varying degrees of ambiguity, half communicating through their broken English.

Country is just so Hong Sang-soo, but the tone is a bit lighter than Oki’s Movie or The Day He Arrives. Nor is it as self-consciously post-modern in its approach to narrative. Each of the three Annes’ stories are discrete and completely self-contained (though take 2 includes a dream sequence that could almost count as a fourth strand). In fact, it is a rather sunny film, taking long walks on the beach and chatting amiably with the cute but shy Wonju, who also appears in each arc as the daughter of the hotel proprietor.

Still, it is rather fascinating to watch how Huppert brings successively darker shades to each Anne. Frankly, the third is a bit of a pill, whereas the flawed but self-aware second is the most fully developed. Yu Junsang, the only other constant besides Jung Yumi’s pleasant but rather inconsequential Wonju, is a perfectly believable lunk, but his best dramatic moments come during the first go-round. However, Youn Yuh-jung, the veteran leading lady of Korean television and cinema, is absolutely perfect as Anne #3’s academic friend Park Sook (and appearing as Wonju’s mother in the opening segment as well). Smart, somewhat tart tongued, and likably world-weary, she brings some real verve to the talking and drinking.

Indeed, Country is a chatty film, utilizing English as a second language, so communication is always an issue. The manner in which Hong repeats certain key phrases is often very droll, but there are no great profundities to be found here. That is not necessarily a bad thing. Watching Hong’s latest is like falling in with a group of strangers at a party who are amusing for an evening, but you don’t really want to make a habit of seeing afterward. Again, if they are good for some laughs, that is not so terrible. For Hong and Huppert’s fans, it works quite well. Recommended accordingly, In Another Country opens this Friday (11/9) at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on November 9th, 2012 at 2:20pm.