LFM: Libertas Film Magazine

By Joe Bendel. Only Russia could celebrate a Ponzi scheme con artist as a national hero. It’s a complicated place. Transparently based on Sergei Mavrodi, the Russian Madoff, a bizarre episode of post-Soviet economic history is only slightly exaggerated in Eldar Salavatov’s Pyrammmid, which screens during the 2012 Brooklyn Film Festival.

Mavrodi’s dodgy financial empire was also known as MMM and its commercials promising forty percent returns on investment were a constant presence on Russian television during its heyday. Many Russians blamed its inevitable collapse on the government thanks to conspiracy theories no doubt nurtured by Mavrodi. However, the fictional Sergey Mamontov’s MMM really is the target of the corrupt national government and their oligarchic allies. Understand: Mamontov is no mere charlatan. He is scamming all that money in order to preserve Russian ownership of the old state-owned enterprises being sold to the well-connected at fire-sale prices, through a dubious privatization process. Well, that’s Pyrammmid’s story and its sticking to it.

It gets quite complicated, though. Raking in cash, Mamontov plans a fatal run on his major banking rival, while getting involved in weird sidelines, like buying the major Russian beauty pageant. Most of those distractions are the brainchild of maverick mathematician Anton who loses sight of the big picture. Frankly, the film is a bit overstuffed with plot, sacrificing the dead weight of transitions to fit it all in. As a result, audiences watching it in subtitles really have to keep on their toes.

Reportedly, Pyrammmid is based on an unpublished manuscript by Mavrodi, which must be considered either a novel or a memoir, depending on whether or not you happen to be Sergei Mavrodi. Ideologically, it is a bit of a head-scratcher, unambiguously lionizing exactly the sort of financial plunderer the current regime made its name inveighing against. Still, the symbolic significance of Mamontov’s choice of car is hard to miss: a vintage Soviet Chaika sedan. In fact, the film has nothing to say regarding the lack of consequences faced by the oppressive former Communist hardliners. Indeed, that refusal to account for the past has led the country precisely where it is now. The presence of Putin favorite Nikita Mikhalkov’s son Artyom and daughter Anna Mikhalkova in the ensemble cast further muddies the waters.

Having played more traditionally action-oriented protagonists in previous films (such as the Da Vinci Code-ish Golden Mean), Alexey Serebryakov is surprisingly convincing as the owlish Mamontov (those specs are another Mavrodi trademark). Unfortunately, he is largely surrounded by stock characters existing simply to serve the plot, like Gutov the shifty lawyer and Vera the ambitious muckraking photojournalist.

Frankly, the fact that this movie exists is downright mind-blowing. Imagine a slick, big budget American film positioning Bernie Madoff as a misunderstood hero, whom we should give good money to, for the sake of the country. That is about how Pyrammmid shakes out. It is a fast-moving big-canvas conspiracy thriller that does not always make a whole lot of sense. Yet, it is more stylistically grounded than the thematically related Generation P. Flawed but fascinating for Russia watchers, it screens again this Wednesday (5/6) at IndieScreen as part of this year’s Brooklyn Film Festival.

Posted on June 4th, 2012 at 9:31pm.

By Joe Bendel. The war is over, but for many Polish women it’s hard to call the aftermath “peace.” This is especially true for ethnic German Masurians, formerly of eastern Prussia, like Rose Kwiatkowska. Though Poland has been “liberated,” they are constantly reminded that “their side” lost, and are treated as treasonous pariahs, accordingly. Yet, Kwiatkowska’s situation is especially dire, as a mysterious Polish veteran slowly discovers in Wojtek Smarzowski’s uncompromising Rose, which opened the 2012 Brooklyn Film Festival Friday at the Brooklyn Heights Cinema.

Tadeusz Mazur is a world-weary Home Army veteran, who witnessed things during the Warsaw Uprising no man could forget. He watched as his wife was raped and murdered by the rampaging National Socialists, and was also present during the death of Kwiatkowska’s husband. She is not exactly welcoming when he turns up to deliver some of her husband’s effects, yet a bond slowly forms between them. Kwiatkowska needs protection from the Soviet-aligned bandits, who literally rape and pillage their way through the Masurian countryside. She could also use his help clearing the landmines from her fields, so they can harvest the potatoes. As for Mazur, he has his reasons to lay low, hoping not to attract the attention of the NKVD. However, Masuria is not the best place to be to avoid trouble.

Michał Szczerbic’s screenplay is brutally direct and honest about the treatment of women during wartime by the Germans, the Soviets, and their minions (indeed, they all seem to blend together throughout the film). The sheer volume of sexual assaults in Smarzowski’s historical drama is overwhelming, but they are never treated in a lurid or sensationalized fashion. Rather, it is a harrowing depiction of an ugly period of institutionalized score-settling.

Yet incredibly, Rose is a fundamentally a love story, sensitively bringing to life the brief but intense relationship that develops between Kwiatkowska and Mazur. There are no cute courtship rituals or romantic contrivances. They simply fall in love (or something near enough to it), while banding together to survive. It is definitely not pretty, but in a way, it is kind of beautiful.

Marcin Dorociński is riveting as Mazur, portraying him as both a flinty man of action and a tragic romantic hero. It is a bit surprising how thoroughly he dominates the film (since it is called Rose), but he does. Agata Kulesza is also quite haunting as Kiatkowska, creating a profile of herculean endurance. Their scenes together are quite special.

Despite somewhat rushing the third act (which features a few “wait, he did what?” moments), Smarzowski (previously represented at BFF with the gritty Martial Law-era noir The Dark House) deftly helms Rose, capturing the sweep of terrible historical forces, but maintaining an intimate focus. He forces viewers to confront the nature of the crimes committed against Kiatkowska and other Masurian women, up close and personal. Polish free jazz bass clarinetist Mikołaj Trzaska’s eerie minimalist score also heightens the unsettling mood.

Rose can be tough to watch, but it is an excellent film. Highly recommended, it screens again this coming Thursday (6/7) at IndieScreen, as part of this year’s Brooklyn Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on June 4th, 2012 at 9:30pm.

By Joe Bendel. Ernest Hemingway deliberately cultivated his notoriously macho image – yet he somehow found four women willing to marry him at various points of his life. That was a lot of optimism, on everyone’s part. Though she had the shortest tenure as a “Mrs. Hemingway,” war correspondent Martha Gellhorn was the most notable. Matching and at times surpassing his feats of war zone journalistic daring, Gellhorn fired his passion and inspired his professional respect and jealousy. Their tempestuous relationship is dramatized in Philip Kaufman’s HBO Film Hemingway & Gellhorn now currently airing on the network.

When ambitious young magazine writer Martha Gellhorn first meets the funky, grungy Hemingway in a Key West bar, they can barely resist tearing the clothes off each other. The fact that he is married hardly matters to either of them. However, their animal attraction will have to briefly wait until they reunite covering the Spanish Civil War, at the behest of ardent Spanish Republican supporter John Dos Passos.

Working with Dutch Communist documentarian-propagandist Joris Ivens, Hemingway and Dos Passos film The Spanish Earth (with Gellhorn tagging along), for the purpose of rallying American audiences to the Republican cause. Frankly, it is considerable more compelling to watch their run-and-gun shooting process in H&G than the historical documentary itself. That adrenaline also fuels the war reporters’ torrid affair.

Just like Hemingway and Gellhorn’s relationship, the film really clicks during their time together in Spain. Viewers are served a liberal helping of Nationalist atrocities, but the portrayal of the Soviet forces is also refreshingly unvarnished, particularly with respects to the fatal purging of heroic Loyalist soldier Paco Zarra, a stand-in for Dos Passos’ doomed friend José Robles. While the literary power couple is shown fawning over Chou En-lai and sneering at the gauche Chiangs in China, Gellhorn also reports from Finland, unequivocally siding with the Finns against the Soviet invaders.

Unfortunately, the film loses vitality with the aging Hemingway, sliding into the long denouement of his dubious u-boat chasing Cuban years and sad final days in Idaho. By the time America enters WWII, screenwriters Jerry Stahl and Barbara Turner clearly suggest Gellhorn was more of a man than Hemingway. Of course, this is a common problem with bio-pics. To be accurate, they can almost never end with the good stuff.

Regardless of his character arc, Clive Owen totally goes for broke as Hemingway. One of the few actors working today who can come across as both manly and literate, he bellows and carouses with relish. It is a larger than life performance, bordering on camp, yet he is still able to convey Hemingway’s inner demons and nagging self-doubts. He also manages to dial it down periodically for some saucy Tracy-and-Hepburn bantering with Nicole Kidman’s Gellhorn. Likewise, Kidman is on a very short list of actresses who can play smart, sophisticated, and alluring, simultaneously. In fact, she could be channeling Hepburn and the Rosalind Russell of His Girl Friday as the fast-talking, khaki-wearing journalist crusading against injustice, which is frankly pretty cool.

In addition to the strong chemistry between the leads, H&G boasts a strong supporting ensemble. David Strathairn is particularly engaging as the disillusioned idealist, Dos Passos, serving as a subtle corrective to Hemingway’s ethical malleability. Metallica’s Lars Ulrich adds notable color as Ivens, while Tony Shaloub conveys a sense of both the menace and tragedy of the Stalinist true believer Mikhal Koltsov, who is considered to be the source for the Karkov character in For Whom the Bell Tolls. Again, the most inspired work comes during or prior to the Spanish Civil War sequences.

Frequently approximating the look of black-and-white news reels and Ivens’ documentary footage, H&G is highly cinematic (getting a vital assist from cinematographer Rogier Stoffers). Kaufman is a big canvas filmmaker, with sufficient artistic stature to merit a recent MoMA film retrospective—a high honor indeed. While steamier and gossipier than The Right Stuff, it is downright staid compared to his Henry & June and The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

An appropriately messy film sprawling all over the place, H&G is rowdily entertaining, capturing a good deal more historical insight than one would expect. Definitely recommended for those who appreciate the Hemingway oeuvre and persona (as well admirers of Gellhorn or Dos Passos), Hemingway & Gellhorn airs again on HBO June 2nd, 7th, 10th, 11th, 15th, and 19th and on HBO2 on June 4th, 6th, 12th, 17th, 21st, 25th, and 30th.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on May 31st, 2012 at 9:21am.