LFM: Libertas Film Magazine

By Joe Bendel. It is one of the few relationships Hallmark has yet to crack. It is hard to define just what this moody teen represents to her well-heeled visitor, aside from being the mother of her future baby. The two women will share intimate moments, but there will always be a wall dividing them in Korean-Canadian filmmaker Albert Shin’s In Her Place, which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

It is safe to say the Girl is troubled. Frankly, her swelling stomach is only one of her problems, but it is the most conspicuous one. For her Mother, the Woman from Seoul is a Godsend. She will help out during the final months of pregnancy, footing all the bills and providing enough additional money for the Mother to get the run down farm back on its feet again. In exchange, she will leave with the baby, claiming it as her own. This being Korea, social conventions demand they keep everything hush-hush. However, the Girl is the wild card in their best laid plans.

Not surprisingly, boys are a point of contention with her, but she has even deeper issues regarding self-esteem and abandonment. The Woman from Seoul partly understands this, but not fully so. She will take the time to get to know the Girl (as well as the kind of-sort of boyfriend who is quite surprised to learn of her condition), but the management-labor dynamic is hard to shake.

A vibe of foreboding hangs over IHP right from the start and the third act is a bit protracted, yet the film’s ultimate tragedy still hits viewers with the force of a locomotive traveling at full steam. Credit goes to the three principle women, who are each truly devastating, but in a very different ways. Ahn Ji-hye is clearly a young breakout star of the future, who maintains viewer sympathy and credibility despite all her painfully self-destructive acting out. She could easily be the next Kim Go-eun (sort of the reigning Jennifer Lawrence of Korean Cinema).

While many American indie filmmakers would be tempted to portray the Woman from Seoul as a one-percent exploiter, Shin and co-writer Pearl Ball-Harding take great effort to humanize and explain her. She is a complicated character, whose past pain and disappointments are subtly but powerfully conveyed by Yoon Da-kyung. Yet, it is Kil Hae-yeon’s Mother who really sneaks up on the audience and rips everyone’s guts out. In all fairness, it should also be noted two of the guys (Kim Chang-hwan as the clueless Boy and Kim Seung-cheol as the Mother’s farmhand-crony) are also very good, but they are doomed to be overshadowed by the women.

After watching IHP you need a couple days to make peace with it, but in all honesty, it is rare to find films that get under the skin in such a fashion. It is also an usually quiet film that adeptly captures the stark silence and loneliness of its rural setting. Cinematographer Moon Myoung Hwan truly transports us to that hardscrabble locale. It is a demanding film, but it constitutes impressive work all the way around. Recommended for discerning audiences, In Her Place screens again today (9/9) as part of this year’s TIFF.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on September 9th, 2014 at 4:31pm.

By Joe Bendel. Brazil has one of the largest Japanese expat communities outside of Japan. Unfortunately, that also entails a Yakuza presence—or at least it used to, until the Rio clan nearly killed the wrong ex-Marine’s sister. They will soon learn John Chapman’s martial arts skills and PTSD death wish make him all kinds of deadly. He even has a codename to dig out of mothballs in Ernie Barbarash’s Falcon Rising, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Haunted by his experiences in the Middle East (refreshingly, these seem to be more about what they did to his men than what he did to them), Chapman is essentially trying to booze his way into an early grave. However, he manages to pull himself together when his NGO do-gooding sister Cindy blows into town for a quick visit. She should have stayed longer. Soon after returning to her favela nonprofit, a violent attempt on her life leaves her in a coma.

Somewhat put out by this news, Chapman hastens down to Rio, where his old service buddy Manny Ridley is a senior Foreign Service Officer. Ridley cannot get too involved in the smackdowns, but he can point Chapman in the right direction. Before long he will be shaking the Yakuza’s tree, while their crooked minions on the police force try to finish off both Chapmans. Good luck with that.

Right, we’re talking total B-movie here, but Falcon harbors few illusions about where its comparative advantages lie. Michael Jai White brings plenty of heat as Chapman and develops some pleasant bantering buddy chemistry with the ever-reliable Neal McDonough’s Ripley. However, one would think the film could have better used retired boxer Laila Ali (daughter of Muhammad), who spends most of the film hooked up to tubes.

Instead, Hazuki Kato gets to be the action femme fatale, displaying some nice chops and an intriguing presence as Yakuza lieutenant Tomoe. In contrast, Masashi Odate is a little too icy and reserved as her master, Hirimoto, but he swings the samurai sword with credibility and authority. However, Lateef Crowder arguably shows off the best moves as Carlo Bororo (a.k.a. crooked cop #2).

As a journeyman action helmer, Barbarash (whose credits include the similarly entertaining Assassination Games) is clearly in his power zone. He stages some pretty impressive fight scenes (choreographed by Larnell Stovall) that eschew shaky cams in favor of full body shot clarity. Barbarash also soaks up the local color, giving viewers a good feel for the Rio’s teeming sprawl.

This is a small film even in the world of action movies, but it is still a lot of fun, sure-footedly following in the spirit and tradition of the American Ninja franchise. Recommended for fans of White and unpretentious martial arts films, Falcon Rising launches today on VOD (where it should do the lion’s share of its business) and opens today (9/5) in New York at the AMC Empire.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on September 5th, 2014 at 12:22pm.

By Joe Bendel. Polish science fiction master Stanislaw Lem deftly satirized Soviet utopianism in The Futurological Congress. For his modernized riff, Israeli filmmaker Ari Folman uses Hollywood as the new evil empire. It is a smooth substitution. In the very near future, the movie business will take exploitation to even greater technological heights, as Robin Wright learns first-hand when she plays herself in Folman’s The Congress, which opens this Friday in New York.

Lem’s novel may have provided the seed of inspiration, but you will not find his well traveled hero Ijon Tichy. Instead, Wright will attend the conference in his stead, but first we will witness the final days of her acting career. Despite her early success in hits like The Princess Bride, Folman’s Wright turned out to be difficult to work with, frequently dropping out of high profile roles at the last minute. While she always claimed it was for the sake of her ailing son Aaron, her frustrated agent really knows it is fear and a lack of confidence that sabotaged her career.

However, Miramount has a final offer to make. For a lump sum payment, they will digitize Wright and program her into all the hit movies she was never shrewd enough to accept. Evidently, this is the way the business is going, so she reluctantly accepts. Twenty years later, she is the biggest star in the business, but nobody recognizes the real Wright. Accepting an invitation to speak at Miramount’s Futurological Congress, Wright plans to challenge their questionable ethical priorities from the podium. However, to get there, she must travel into Miramount’s animated city of avatars. Unfortunately, little things like the nature of time and reality will complicate her plan.

Frankly, the first fifty minutes of live action could have easily been condensed. In fact, by the time the film finally switches over into animation, Folman seems so eager to go off on a fantastical romp he never fully establishes the rules and boundaries of his chemically induced world of cartoon avatars. Still, it all looks spectacularly trippy.

Granted, Folman’s Congress is a bit of a narrative mess and it lacks Lem’s subversive bite, but it is fully stocked with fascinating ideas and surprisingly effective performances. In one of many intriguing side-plots, Folman puts a Matrix-like spin of Otto Preminger’s Laura when Dylan Truliner confesses to Wright he fell in love with her while working as the animator manipulating her digital image.

As Al the agent, Harvey Keitel delivers a monologue to end all monologues, while Paul Giamatti (who could have advised Wright on playing a meta-meta version of herself, having done something similar in Cold Souls) adeptly brings some stabilizing sensitivity and dignity to the film as Aaron’s kindly Dr. Baker. Whether as an animated avatar or in the flesh, Danny Huston also makes a dynamite villain as Miramount (great name) studio boss Jeff Green.

Most importantly, The Congress’ animation is wildly cool and colorful, with enough thinly disguised cameos and visual quotes to reward dozens of repeat viewings. In contrast, the Wright family drama gets tiresome the first time through, especially when it comes to poor, pitiful Aaron, whose bland personality seems to be degenerating along with his sight and hearing. Nevertheless, Folman puts so much crazy ambition up on the screen, it more than compensates for the occasional lapse into Lifetime melodrama. Recommended for fans of cult science fiction and animation, as well as Lem readers who enjoy being scandalized, The Congress opens this Friday (9/5) in New York at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on September 2nd, 2014 at 10:55pm.

By Joe Bendel. Perversely, the Soviet occupation of Latvia probably saved the life of animator Signe Baumane’s grandmother, Anna, at least temporarily. The resulting privations and exploitation provided a distraction from the depression and suicidal impulses that plagued her all her life. Combining art and therapy, Baumane chronicles the mental health trials of the women in her family, culminating with her own struggles in Rocks in My Pockets, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Baumane’s father and his seven brothers and sisters revere their sainted mother, but Baumane slowly pieces together a darker story. She was such a bright young girl, her father saved and even borrowed to send her to college, making Anna one of the few women in 1920s Latvia with an advanced education. Unfortunately, the only job she found after graduation was as the secretary to the entrepreneur who would become Baumane’s grandfather.

Initially, Anna was in awe of his erudition and sophistication, but his jealous controlling side quickly surfaced after their marriage. Instead of living a life of cosmopolitan glamour in the city, Anna dutifully followed her husband into the forest, where he established a turpentine factory. Unlike many of his schemes, it was relatively successful until the Soviets invaded, nationalizing it and everything else in their wake.

With eight mouths to feed, Anna rouses herself from her depression, navigating the life-and-death challenges posed by the Soviets, the Germans, and then the Soviets again. In fact, the Communists never stopped shaking down Anna and her family, confiscating their provisions when they are on the outs as partisans, just as they did when they were conquering oppressors.

Needless to say, Soviet psychiatric care was not exactly scientifically or socially progressive, either. It was mostly just about doping patients up, locking them up, and stigmatizing them thereafter, as Baumane learns first hand. In between, she revisits the sad history of many lost relatives, reading between the lines.

Even if it is animated, a film about depression sounds rather depressing, especially when a good portion of it is set during the Communist era. However, Baumane’s animation is quite striking, often taking viewers down surreal, symbolically resonant rabbit holes, and her message is also empowering and ultimately upbeat. In fact, the closing lines are absolutely unforgettable.

Yes, there is a prescriptive element to the film (tragically timely in the wake of Robin Williams’ death), but animation enthusiasts can enjoy it simply on a visual level. While Baumane tips her hat to Bill Plympton and Jan Svankmajer, her hand-drawn figures and backgrounds often bring to mind the work of Sally Cruishank (although they are somewhat less colorful, perhaps reflecting the subject matter and setting).

Clearly, Rocks is a very personal film, but Baumane’s family experiences offer a highly relevant and accessible perspective on the greater realities of depression and even Twentieth Century Latvian history. She convincingly makes the sort of jump from the private to the universal that Barabara Kopple’s glitzy, self-helpy Running from Crazy miserably failed to pull off. Highly recommended for fans of animation and those who appreciate its message, Rocks in My Pockets opens this Wednesday (9/3) in New York at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on September 2nd, 2014 at 10:54pm.