Film Reviews by CH

I thought I was going to really enjoy this film but sadly, instead of being drawn into the life drama of reclusive poet Emily Dickinson, I began wishing this increasingly dull film hadn’t wormed it’s way to the top of my ‘must see’ list. Nearly 2 hours of dullness highlighted by dazzling dentures. A period drama should insist that actors consent to a little cosmetic yellowing for the sake of authenticity (and lighting.)  However I thought Jennifer Ehle, did lift and rescue any bland under acting or overacting, as  Vinnie, the delightfully moral yet mischievous sister of Emily. She was a ray of sunshine in any room where the male actors were just flat and wooden.  And Emily Dickinson herself…..?pick up a book of her poetry if it pleases you to know her better.

In view of the current political climate in Iran there is no better time to watch this film than now. Seed of the Sacred Fig was made secretly by Iranian film director Mohammed Rasoulof who, having previously courted controversy and jail, experienced the wrath and ire of the religious state machine, now lives in constant fear of retribution against himself and his brave trio of actresses (who have now fled their Iranian homeland.) They must all surely be following the slaughtering of citizens and student street protesters, a defiant and nervous population ready for liberation. Seed of Sacred Fig shows the literal seeds of discontent sprouting in a domestic setting, the 2 teenage daughters are chafing and questioning parental authority and the need to comply with dictats of traditional dress…..just like teenagers always do. The answer seems to be because their father has recently taken on a role as investigative judge in a high court that he now realises ( with some regret) has manacled and pinned him even tighter to The Regime. This is a story that descends deeper and deeper into paranoia with the final scenes (if I dare draw any parallels) in the tradition of all good thrillers, scenes worthy of being the greatest denouements in cinematic history.

Once upon a time…..a child’s life in Wales was not funfairs or end of pier Punch and Judy shows, buckets, spades or donkey rides on the sands. Like the adults, the child’s life was often hard sweat and labour, nasty, short and brutish. Whether up on the bleak mountains or down the deep valley, harsh reality for most was the cold Sunday chapel service and the mean, sour faced landlord knocking for his rent, when there was no money and nothing left to sell. This is a slow burn grim tale from Wales.

War devastates ordinary lives but makes rich pickings for some. In this story the art dealer hits a wartime jackpot as citizens panic and flee Paris ahead of the German round ups of “undesirables”. Hoping for a decent price or any price, they sell paintings and family heirlooms to Mr Klein…..but Mr Klein realises he now has a problem with a missing birth certificate , the police wish to see it to verify him as bonafide French citizen. Add to this his increasing paranoia and confusion that someone else is claiming to be Mr Klein…….

Even the most stony hearted viewer may need to stifle a tear during this sweetly inoffensive film, that wisely tiptoes around the sensitive subject matters of retaliatory expulsion of Greeks from Istanbul. There’s more than a touch of comedy here and a pinch of magic realism there as a young boy becomes obsessed by the collective family disputes in the kitchen over the high stakes art of traditional cooking and the adding of potent spices.

Metaphors and religious allegories frame this rustic fairytale set in a lost corner of Italy…..a gradgrindian paradise lost, where nobody has bothered to inform the debt ridden peasant sharecroppers that they are legally freemen, free to pack up and go, to follow their own destinies and seek fortunes.  In a bewildered flotilla they drift towards the towns where they are even less welcome than they could ever have imagined possible. Lazzaro is the naive young hero who transcends all resentment, anger or revenge, he is the incorruptible innocent who merely seeks justice for an earthly sinner.

The French have always been known for their schools of heavyweight dour existential philosophy but happily also for their lightweight bawdy theatrical romps à La Comedie Francaise. In that age old tradition, Le Bonheur is a film that follows the farcical theatrical plot of mistaken identity (whether deliberate or accidental) and like all good pantos has thrown in a cameo role for a famously non professional actor and his brother. And like all slightly overlong 3-4 act theatrical comedy plays I find myself glancing at my watch wondering how much longer, it must be nearly time for the curtain to close. Anyhow philosophically speaking (I think) they all live happily ever after

A dense primeval forest canopy on the edge of US. suburbia shelters a father and teenage daughter, living unaccountably on the wild side. They collect mushrooms and rainwater, rub sticks together to light the campfire (with the occasional sneaky trip to Walmart when stocks get low). So far, so paradise found…escaping the rat race with no address, no phones or tech,  just books, chess games and dad’s safety drills. Is it possible to live wild and incognito in US. or anywhere these days? What if 4 walls, a dry ceiling and suburban community living is, in fact, the pinnacle of civilised and human organisational achievement ?

A film about a film maker whose efforts to capture daily rural life are thwarted by elderly folk, not least his own aged parents reluctance to learn their lines or act for the camera. The hapless repetiteur promptings confuse the directors efforts to micromanage these mischievous elders. A charming film with gentle humour and sadness at a way of life being lost to legislative modernisation.

A beautiful and cleverly crafted film that shines it’s light into the darkness of the human heart and soul…….this is a film to be watched many times over for nuances of human behaviour, reminding us that however small, the possibility of change, acceptance and understanding of our enemy is always there. 

Rupert Everett pouts and glowers his way through this Bondarchuk film (which not surprisingly so far no-one has reviewed.) The novel Quiet Flows the Don by Sholokov about Cossack village life before the Russian Revolution is interspersed with the travails of a very mean and moody Rupert Everett, as he negotiates his way around the pitfalls and snares of love and duty. The novel itself is quite a difficult read and I’m not convinced that this interpretation by Bondarchuck won over the audiences in the same way that his epic film War and Peace did. Quiet Flows the Don isn’t quite the masterpiece of epic cinema it strives to be,  with a Dr Zhivago-esque Hollywood orchestral score.  However with many dramatic well choreographed horse mounted Cossack battle scenes, historically the film may well stand the test of time.

Families…..we’ve all got them and we didn’t choose them. Trapped in those dark, dense sticky spiders webs of lies, silence and deceit, families grind us down with their power crazed games of one upmanship and emotional blackmail. Festen gathers together dysfunctional adult siblings at the Patriarchs 60th birthday party, where they resume their battles to be heard, to be understood and to be revenged, neatly picking up where they left off messily years ago. A Savage film that is not really viewing for the faint hearted.

A hard hitting film, a very hard watch.  Predators circle the unwary and naive new city dwellers, where human life is cheap and red in tooth and claw….everyone is dispensable prey in the Manila food chain.

Don’t even try to guess the direction, ulterior motives or outcomes in this tense Danish drama…it’s a yarn and a half, let the film slowly unravel to reveal itself to you. The brilliant Mads Mikkelson as inscrutable as ever.

Another excellent tense and bleak slow burn drama from Russia (directed by Popogrebsky). Out on the furthest, fringes of the Russian arctic circle, at an old Soviet weather station, an inexperienced student is partnered as summer assistant to a surly meteorologist to relieve the lonely tedium of taking readings and logging statistics. The scientist simmers with rage at the boy’s careless confidence, but finally entrusts to this student, the daily routine readings, enabling him to take (illicit) time off to go fishing. The isolated archipelago has a dark recent history that leaks and seeps into the inexorable descent of the relationship between the two, (not unlike the madness and menace that grips in the recent British film ‘The Lighthouse’)