Tag: film review

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Festival du Nouveau Cinema’s ups and downs

Eugène Green’s drama La Sapienza explores withered love, harbored feelings and the struggles of midlife crisis.

The second part of The Concordian’s coverage of one of Montreal’s most ambitious film festivals

The Festival du Nouveau Cinema (FNC) just ended and brought with it an impressive selection of movies. Even if a film festival is always around the corner in Montreal, we should all aim to see as many film as possible. Although The Concordian was not able to see every film shown at the FNC, here are some of our favourite–and least favourite–picks from the second week of screenings.

Next to her
by Frédéric T. Muckle

Have you ever taken care of someone?

Have you ever taken care of someone? For informal caregivers, helping is a very demanding way of life.  Next to her, Asaf Korman’s first feature film, smartly tackles this touching issue. It is the story of Chelli and her mentally challenged little sister Gabby; it is also the tale of two young women ultimately looking for some love and comfort.

Following mostly Chelli, Korman gives us a peek into the inner conflict of this caring young woman. This portrayal of her love/hate relationship with her sister is both troubling and touching. She tries to protect Gabby from the world. Still, she seems to long for a normal life in which she only had herself to care for. Who could blame her? The courage and hardships of informal caregivers are thoughtfully portrayed in the repeating of mundane moments between these two codependent sisters. One of Chelli’s most interesting facets is that she actually needs Gabby as much as Gabby needs her. Even with a boyfriend who is at first very understanding and kind to the intimate duo, Chelli seems incapable of letting her go. Korman’s wife Liron Ben-Shlush, who wrote the screenplay for Next to Her, beautifully plays this nuanced character.

Korman’s movie prevails in the little details; in the subtle smiles and furtive looks, in a polished portrayal of a close relationship not only between two sisters, but also of love and hate itself–emotions that are often closely related.

 

She’s lost control
by Frédéric T. Muckle

Having sex for money: not so respectable in our traditional society, right?

Having sex for money: not so respectable in our traditional society, right? Still, a movement that started in the ‘70s created what is now known as “sexual surrogates.” This job, that should not be described by the judgmental puritans who still exist in today’s modern world, is actually a serious and compassionate occupation. These people, mostly women, act as a professional partner and therapist to people in need of sexual therapy. These people are usually not able to have what most people would consider a normal relationship with someone.

Anja Marquardt tackles this controversial and complex topic in She’s Lost Control, starring the talented Brooke Bloom as Ronah, the main protagonist who happens to be a sexual surrogate. This subject could have been painted crudely in broad strokes, but luckily She’s Lost Control effectively focuses on more than Ronah’s unusual occupation.

The movie makes you feel Bloom’s character’s array of nuanced emotions while accompanying her in her everyday tasks, some dramatic and unexpected events, and also her uncommon work. As the title suggests, everything finally ends up being too much for the caring sensitive Ronah who, in the end, just wants to help people. The descent is brutal and swift. The one thing that disappoints in She’s Lost Control is its actual conclusion. During the whole movie you are following this interesting character and emotionally watching as her life unfolds, but the ending simply leaves you with a feeling of emptiness. This movie needed more than this unsatisfactory ending. What could have been a really good movie sadly ended up being average.

 

The Price We Pay
by Zach Goldberg

a joint operation between Cinema Politica and the FNC

Last Wednesday, director Harold Crooks’ newest work, The Price We Pay was shown at Concordia University. The screening was held at the H-110 theatre, and was a joint operation between Cinema Politica and the FNC. Crooks’ newest film covers the global financial sector, tackling big-business tax avoidance and offshore finance. Like his last film, Surviving Progress, The Price We Pay is based on a thick, content-laden novel.

The substantial breadth of the source text, combined with the dense, technical nature of the topic, created what would seem a daunting task for a documentarian. However, the film handled a difficult topic with surprising clarity, utilizing helpful graphics and clever, often comedic voice-overs to make what has become an insider trade accessible to a wider audience.

Beginning at the economic boom of the Reagan administration, the film walks the viewer through the development of the laws that are currently depriving governments of trillions of dollars every year. The Price We Pay pulls aside the curtains of technical jargon and insider information on one of the most daunting aspects of global finance today, being at once a harsh indictment of not only corporations, but the governments that harbour them. Crooks’ new film has only further solidified him as one of the great documentarians of our time, firmly placing him amongst the likes of Michael Moore and Josh Fox.

 

La Sapienza
by Erdene Batzorig

Eugène Green’s drama La Sapienza explores withered love, harbored feelings and the struggles of midlife crisis.

Eugène Green’s drama La Sapienza explores withered love, harbored feelings and the struggles of midlife crisis. The dialogue-heavy film included unexpected, offbeat quips that had the audience in good humour.

Alexandre Schmidt who admires 17th century Roman architect Francesco Borromini, leaves his day-to-day life in France and travels to Switzerland and Italy to revive his dormant project on Borromini. He travels with his wife, Aliénor, to Stressa where they meet a young architect student Goffredo and his sister Lavinia. Between the four of them and their interactions with each other, they find answers that they did not know they were looking for.

Throughout the movie you see a change in the way the characters relate to one another.  At the beginning, the lack of physical interaction and the minimal, rigid conversations reflect the state of the relationships. The addition of Lavinia and Goffredo has a surprising effect on both Alexandre and Aliénor, as they both rediscover the meaning of life.  The natural curiosity and the naivety of the young siblings has them reflecting on their lives and recounting stories from past.

Some parts of the film are quite drab with the endless talks and slow pace, but the stellar performances by Fabrizio Rongione (Alexandre), Christelle Prot Landman (Aliénor) and the rest of the cast ultimately bring you back to the film.

Green has done a fine job of writing provoking dialogues and creating an aesthetically beautiful film. It may not be for everyone, but at the end you are sure to come out with something to think about and reflecting on your own life.

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The Hundred-Foot Journey

This film is not a travel journal nor is it another film about cooking. It is a romantic comedy about the importance of family life. It is also about the exquisite pleasure of enjoying and sharing the joy that good food can produce in any single person. Since eating is one of those little things that we all have to do, it is safe to say that a good meal could be described as a universal pleasure.

The Hundred-Foot Journey starts in Mumbai, where we meet a family that has operated restaurants serving native food for several generations. Tragedy strikes, and the family decides to relocate.

Their next stop is London, England where they open a new restaurant, but ultimately they find themselves in a third location in a village in the south of France. There they open Maison Mumbai, which offers Indian cuisine.

Not only is this move innovative, it is also extremely bold given that its location is a mere one hundred feet from Le Saule Pleureur. You can imagine how having a five-star restaurant that has served classic French food for generations as a neighbor can be a little annoying for a new, exotic and little known restaurant. Naturally, the two restaurant owners lock horns, but ultimately they learn that both establishments, like their different cultures, can co-exist in peaceful harmony.

One similarity between the Maison Mumbai and Le Saule Pleureur is that both restaurants consider their staff as family, regardless of whether they share the same blood or not. Both experience the ups and downs of running their respective restaurants together, as a group. The beautiful yet quaint geography of each location is skillfully captured in a way that evokes nostalgia to those familiar with them. Directed by Lasse Hallström, who also brought us Chocolate, and produced by Oprah Winfrey and Steven Spielberg, this film will, at the very least, make you leave the theatre smiling.

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The winter of Russian discontent

Still from Anton Seregin's doc film Winter, Go Away! (2012)
Still from the documentary film Winter, Go Away! (2012)

This week’s installment of Cinema Politica has an appropriate title considering the time of year but, ironically, it has nothing to do with the cold or the icy sidewalks of Montreal’s most bone-chilling season.

Winter, Go Away! (2012), a documentary directed by Anton Seregin, Marina Razbezhkina and Askold Kurov, bears a title that subtly refers to the “winter of our discontent,” felt by many Russian citizens, reluctant to see a third presidential term in 12 years go to Vladimir Putin.

This is an observational documentary, meaning that there’s neither commentary nor music. The filmmakers take a fly-on-the-wall approach. As such, Winter, Go Away! also serves as an exposé of Russia’s shady political dealings.

The directors follow several anti-Putin protesters and other outspoken critics, leading up to the “Rally for Fair Elections” held in Moscow in February 2012, and then culminating with the elections held a month later. On more than one occasion, viewers are brought to understand the burning questions that spur the protestors onward. For instance, during a university lecture he is giving, Ivan Mironov – a writer and activist – asks why anyone would consider voting for Putin, considering his numerous alleged abuses of power. One student simply states: “It doesn’t matter who we vote for, it won’t change a thing.” Taken aback, Mironov replies: “What if it did?” Mironov’s comment makes it clear that questions of this sort are what fuels their hopeful, yet inevitably futile, democratic ambitions.

One of the more amusing scenes in the film occurs when we see a group of dissenters wearing Guy Fawkes masks, quietly travelling by bus and casually reading the morning paper. The filmmakers also encounter the Russian feminist punk band Pussy Riot, an all-female group with political goals whose members hide their faces behind colourful balaclavas. The cameras capture their infamous protest, that of an impromptu performance at the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, a stunt which lead to their arrests but which also garnered them international headlines.

Nonetheless, the film falters in its inability to provide the viewer with enough background information regarding the various players in Russian politics, often leaving the audience confused. Although the subject matter is highly relevant, in light of Russia’s recent state of internal affairs, the documentary’s execution lacks lustre. Without the proper context, the film doesn’t fully resonate emotionally and the viewer is left watching fiery Russians bicker about matters that they don’t fully understand. The filmmakers perhaps make the most grievous assumption in expecting us, as outsiders, to care from the very beginning.

What you’ll find in Winter, Go Away! is fragmented vignettes of brewing political unrest. Be it through electrifying scenes shot from the heart of chanting mass protests or through stolen instances of police brutality, what’s portrayed is the plight of the average Russian activist, restlessly fighting for his political and civil rights, one day at a time.

Winter, Go Away! screens March 18 at 7 pm in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve W. Director Askold Kurov will be in attendance. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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Nowhere to go but down

Movie poster for A Glimpse Inside The Mind Of Charles Swan III
Movie poster for A Glimpse Inside The Mind Of Charles Swan III

If you imagine the film 8 ½ , but directed by Wes Anderson and with all the heart and soul stripped out of it, and with the cast and crew coked out of their minds, you would come close to understanding what it feels like to watch A Glimpse Inside The Mind Of Charles Swan III.

With a title of this grandeur, especially when names like Coppola, Sheen, Murray, Schwartzman, and Arquette are associated with it, and there’s a clear nod to Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, one would expect an equally grand and spectacular experience. However, what we get is a film with a single, simple narrative. The plot revolves around Charles Swan a graphic designer who gets dumped by his girlfriend, Ivana, when she discovers pornographic photographs of his former lovers stuffed in a drawer. In an effort to cleanse, or perhaps avenge himself of Ivana (played by Katheryn Winnick), Swan attempts to throw her shoes over a cliff, down which he subsequently falls and is brought to a hospital for treatment of body and soul.

Charlie Sheen plays the womanizing titular character, who, in addition to recovering from his physical injuries at the hospital, is receiving help for drug-related health issues and is in therapy to deal with his debaucherous lifestyle (sound familiar?). The audience is treated to Swan’s introspection through the manifestation of psychedelic memories and dreams.

The first of these dream sequences depict Swan’s funeral in which only the women in his life are in attendance and during which Swan rises out of his grave and proceeds to tango with these women. And it only gets more bizarre from there.

In other sketches, Swan gets attacked by his former lovers in a league they have formed, in his imagination, called the S.S.B.B. (Secret Society of Ball-Busters), who while dressed as sexy navy officers attempt to launch a missile attack on him. In another sequence they are dressed as sexy native-american women riding feathered horses with bows and arrows, trying to capture him.

Throughout his journey of self-examination, Swan is supported by his sister played by Patricia Arquette, his friend and client Kirby (Jason Schwartzman) and his accountant Saul (Bill Murray). While these actors do indeed bring a warmth much needed amidst this wild onscreen trip, their roles add next to nothing to the plot, rendering their characters inexplicable.

In fact, the entire production makes one feel as if they had just walked in on a private pot session between these actors and their directorial captain, Roman Coppola. This unwelcoming feeling comes from what seems to be fragmented and incohesive visual depictions of a simple story made up of random cellulose pieces put haphazardly together. Obvious signifiers such as Swan’s T-shirt which features his own name, kitsch ‘70s ambiance and stock wardrobes seem quite indulgent just to tell a few inside jokes and draw parallels between Sheen and Swan.

The only constant is the hyper Wes Anderson-style with which this film is made. Coppola, who co-wrote The Darjeeling Limited and Moonrise Kingdom with the whimsical Anderson, achieves none of the charm despite a Pink Floyd-inspired musical score, saturated colours, picturesque scenery and an impressive array of ‘70s paraphernalia. The film lacks humour, depth and an actual emotional study of Charles Swan; although it would be be negligent not to mention that Sheen does indeed play Swan’s character to perfection. Quelle surprise!

A Glimpse Into The Mind Of Charles Swan III opens in Canadian theatres on Feb. 15.

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A more humane method of food production

Press photo for Voices of Transition
Press photo for Voices of Transition

When it comes to food, the term ‘fruits of our labour’ arguably doesn’t often apply to the 21st century citizen. While places such as the Atwater Market showcase local produce during the summer months, it’s safe to assume that most Montrealers purchase their food at major chain supermarkets.

Written, produced and directed by Nils Aguilar, Voices of Transition showcases different and more homegrown examples of food production. In “agribusiness,” there’s a systematic tendency that says “bigger is better”; more machines, more production, more distribution and, ultimately, higher profits. However, this approach has had severely destructive effects on not only the people who consume or once produced the food (such as small-time farmers), it hurts our precious planet. In fact, it is estimated that agriculture accounts for nearly 40% of global warming.

Spanning across parts of France, England and Cuba, this film also investigates the increasingly complicated subject of food production; who makes it, how they make it, how much do they make and waste, and what are the socio-economic and environmental implications of large-scale, global food overproduction and distribution. In Europe, for example, the majority of agriculture subsidies go towards some of the most environmentally unfriendly corporations.

However, many are resisting such wide-scale practices by not only boycotting major supermarkets, but also by simply growing their own food. The eccentric Mike Feingold, a British permaculturist, is shown making his own apple juice and cider. His beliefs lie in “earth care, people care and fair share,” which ultimately brings together environmental, ecological, and societal needs. Feingold is a citizen of Totnes, England, one of a growing number of so-called “transition” towns in which the issues of housing, food production, transportation, and energy are creatively tackled by its citizens in unison, as a community. They attempt to remain resilient against any economic unpredictabilities.

The film encourages such examples of local-based food products and production, in which the fate of every citizen is tied to each other’s input and output, placing a great deal of importance on communal harmony. At the very least, inhabitants living in transition areas learn new skills, such as the means to grow their own vegetables.

The film includes a few breathtaking scenes, such as the south of France in all of its picturesque beauty: rows of redbrick townhouses, ancient chapels and endless miles of golden wheat fields where cattle and horses roam. However, many of these very same farmers have been driven out of business while others have been forced to change their business practices to something less than moral in order to comply with multinational agricultural biotechnology corporations such as Monsanto.

By the second half, this film takes a more optimistic turn, exploring how communities meet their own needs, not by building fences, but by sharing space and working together. Total self-sufficiency isn’t the goal. After all, we live in an interdependent planet; self-reliance is the ultimate objective. The film essentially asks whether the world will continue to march on the same destructive path or create a new, more efficient system built on self-preservation.

Voices of Transition screens Monday Feb. 18 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve West. For more information, visit www.cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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What does it mean when a bad man saves someone’s life?

Press photo for Jodie Martinson’s Stronghearted /NFB
Press photo for Jodie Martinson’s Stronghearted /NFB

It is difficult to fully articulate an idea in less than five minutes. It is such a skill that class projects are given in many Concordia courses with the exact intention of developing that ability. Precise thought, word choice and presentation are needed to correctly convey the speaker’s intention. While it is a rare feat to articulate a full-bodied idea in such a minimal amount of time, Vancouver filmmaker and journalist Jodie Martinson’s Stronghearted conveys two.

This short film, which is a splendid mix of both live-action and animation, tells part of the life of Evelyn Amony, specifically her first encounter with Joseph Kony when she was 12-years-old. Many will remember Kony as a popular Internet meme that spread across the web early last year. History will most likely remember him as the leader of Uganda’s Lord’s Resistance Army and a kidnapper of children who essentially created his own cult where he viewed himself as a kind of divine prophet. This short film provides an opportunity to gain insight into who the man Kony is beyond the Internet and the media.

What the film presents about this man, and more importantly how it is presented, provides much of the mental fuel packed into Stronghearted’s message. Protagonist Amony narrates her first ordeal with the Lord’s Resistance Army with shocking honesty and realism. Her presence is the sole part of the film that is live-action, which helps bring home the fact that this is a real story that happened to a real person. The surreal drawing of Kony goes a long way to distance him from an actual human being. At first glance, he is more boogeyman than man. Yet this is not a story about how Kony raped Amony, or of how he beat her and forced her into servitude: this is the account of how he saved her life.

This is an odd subject for one of the most demonized human beings still living on the planet. That is what makes it such an important piece of filmmaking. It is easy to forget that people and not monsters are responsible for the atrocities of humanity’s history. Stronghearted in no means defends Kony, but it provides an instance where even an “evil” man does an act of “good.” These portrayals are needed to showcase the duality that many believe exists in the human soul.

Jodie Martinson could have made this film two hours — it is a credit to her directing skill that she was able to accomplish so much in so little time.

Stronghearted is available for viewing free online at http://www.nfb.ca/film/stronghearted

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The two sides of Alfred Hitchcock

Promotional image for Sacha Gervasi's Hitchcock
Promotional image for Sacha Gervasi’s biopic Hitchcock.

Complete with “Hitchcock blondes” and the famous Psycho shower scene, the biopic Hitchcock premiered Nov. 30 at Cineplex Odeon Forum, allowing moviegoers a glimpse at the life of the mastermind behind the 1960 cult classic.

Directed by Sacha Gervasi, Hitchcock begins with an unrecognizable Anthony Hopkins as the master of suspense, and Helen Mirren as his wife and right hand, Alma Reville. The film takes the audience behind the scenes of the film Psycho, but also shows the influence Alma had on Hitchcock during that turbulent time.

Based on the book by Stephen Rebello, Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho, the movie begins after Hitchcock receives some bad reviews about his film North by Northwest. Frustrated, Hitchcock feels that drastic change is required to convince the critics that he hasn’t lost his touch.

When a newspaper publishes the story of murderer and body snatcher, Ed Gein, Hitchcock is inspired. Hitch, as he liked to be called, develops a small obsession with the bloody story and decides to turn it into a movie. However, Paramount decided they wouldn’t finance the movie so Hitchcock, as a headstrong artist, decided that he would make the movie regardless. He mortgaged his house and started production on Psycho.

While the making of his greatest movie is one of the main points of the picture, his relationship with his wife is also in focus. It is portrayed in a way that is not distracting, but complements the film as a whole, unifying the biography of Hitchcock.

Alma was Hitchcock’s friend and counselor and much more than just a wife. However, they had a sexless marriage and thus Hitchcock became obsessed with his consistently blonde leading ladies—since referred to as “Hitchcock blondes”. In the meantime, Alma spent her time with writer Whitfield Cook, which caused Hitchcock a great deal of jealousy. Despite their far-from-perfect marriage, their relationship is admirable because of the amount of support and companionship they continued to show each other in spite of infidelity.

The remake of the classic shower scene with Janet Leigh was beautifully played by Scarlett Johansson. Considering that it is one of the most famous scenes in movie history, the expectations were high. Johansson’s acting throughout the film was not spectacular—never being quite believable, but that scene in particular was a piece of art.

Hitchcock is easy on the eyes; Jeff Cronenweth’s cinematography is just right, using the perfect amount of suspense in each take, the right amount of light and the camera’s velocity when approaching the subject. The photography was never boring or dull. The editing is also at its best; each scene flows naturally to the other.

The movie gives the audience a shallow yet elegant depiction of Hitchcock’s life as the infamous director of Psycho and as a husband who argues with his wife, has insecurities and snores at night.

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The humanity and dignity of personal living space

Jackie Sumell's art exhibit The House That Herman Built features a life-sized woodworked model of Wallace's prison cell.
Jackie Sumell’s art exhibit The House That Herman Built features a life-sized model of Wallace’s prison cell.

Herman Joshua Wallace holds an ambitious dream: to witness the creation of a lavishly-decorated dream house.

This building would be used as a community centre for the underprivileged youth of New Orleans; it would include gardens, a swimming pool, and various works of art. More importantly, it would serve as a safe haven from the harsh realities of the inner-city streets and the temptations of easy money through crime.

However, like all fine things in life, there’s a catch: Wallace has been been in solitary confinement in a Louisiana state prison since 1972. In other words, he has spent 40 years, 10 months, eight days (and counting) in a 6 x 9 ft. prison cell, also known as “the dungeon.”

Angad Singh Bhalla’s documentary Herman’s House is not a tale of a prisoner resigned to his unfortunate fate, instead it is a story of a gentle and well-spoken individual whose hopes remain high despite all indications to the contrary. His foremost champion is Jackie Sumell, an activist and an artist born in New York, who began corresponding with Wallace more than a decade ago. With the help of Wallace’s sister, Victoria Wallace, Sumell uses her anger, her love, and her creativity to shed light on a man who has spent more time in solitary confinement than any other living American prisoner.

In April 1972, Brent Miller, a correctional officer in Louisiana’s Angola prison, died after being brutally stabbed nearly 32 times. The prison warden quickly charged three inmates with the murder, and they were sentenced to life in prison in solitary confinement. Wallace’s initial prison stint began in 1967 on a bank robbery charge. Wallace remains incarcerated at Angola alongside Albert Woodfox. However, the third inmate, Robert King, was released in 2001 after a lengthy, legal battle. They are known as the “Angola Three.”

Wallace’s motions for appeal have routinely been denied by the Louisiana prison review board, despite the fact that neither the murder weapon nor fingerprints were ever conclusively tied to the three inmates.

In order to raise awareness for Wallace’s struggles, Sumell began working on a major art project. The House That Herman Built has been showcased in over 12 galleries in five countries. The exhibition’s most famous piece includes a life-sized woodworked model of Wallace’s prison cell, down to the exact measurements. Visitors were encouraged to enter the cell and experience the harsh living space firsthand.

This is a powerful film centering around a powerless individual. Bhalla often uses black and white animation and Louisiana jazz music to great emotional effect. The camera is patient, often remaining in focus on the numerous houses he encounters, from Sumell’s majestic childhood home in Long Island, to the modest New Orleans townhouse owned by Wallace’s sister.

As for the central figure, the viewer can only hear Wallace’s voice via telephone, yet, ultimately it doesn’t matter what he looks like. This physical distance actually works in favour of the overall theme. Wallace’s voice floats in and out throughout the film; it is resounding but exhausted, hopeful yet regretful. Physically, he is a near ghost-like figure. After all, no one of any significance has seen him in over 40 years. But spiritually and imaginatively? He endures.

Herman’s House screens Nov. 16 at 7 p.m. in Room H-110, 1455 de Maisonneuve. Director Angad Bhalla will be in attendance.

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Arts

I don’t wanna stop at all…or do I?

Mary Elizabeth Winstead (right) stars James Ponsoldt’s Smashed
Mary Elizabeth Winstead (right) stars James Ponsoldt’s Smashed

From the story of doomed lovers with a penchant for heroin, (think Heath Ledger and Abbie Cornish in Candy) to biopics of individuals who succumb to their addictions (Gia, Factory Girl), substance abuse is the subject that keeps on giving.

Depicted through countless filmmakers’ lenses these films have a tendency to glamorize addiction by linking it to a specific locations or by making relationships seem more intense and passionate as a result of the use of drugs and alcohol.

This is why we’re lucky to have films like James Ponsoldt’s Smashed. The film removes the hazy lens of romanticism and instead favours a clear, hard look at the struggle of alcoholism and trying to get sober.

Elementary school teacher Kate, (played brilliantly by Mary Elizabeth Winstead, whom you’ll recognize from the gory horror film Final Destination 3 and borefest Scott Pilgrim vs. the World), is madly in love with her husband Charlie (portrayed by Aaron Paul, best known as Walter White’s sidekick on Breaking Bad.) As much as they love each other, there is a third partner in their relationship, and it’s name is alcohol.

While Charlie is able to drink as much as he wants and still end up sleeping in his own bed, Kate winds up finding herself in different situations, each one more depressing and dangerous than the next. She boozes in her car, steals alcohol when the store clerk won’t sell it to her and unceremoniously throws up in front of her class one morning. But it’s when she ends up smoking crack with a homeless prostitute after leaving the bar one night, that she decides to get sober.

Enter her colleague Dave, played by Parks and Recreation’s Nick Offerman, who takes her to an AA meeting. There she meets Jenny (Octavia Spencer, who is criminally underused in this film) and seems to be on her way to recovery. Yet Kate faces the biggest roadblock in Charlie, who despises recovery programs. Their relationship begins to disintegrate as he stubbornly keeps drinking while she sulks alone and sober, at home. The turmoil eventually reaches a peak as Kate and Charlie have a tempestuous fight, and it’s both the most memorable and hair-raising moment in the film.

The strongest vein of Smashed is Winstead’s performance, which carries the entire film. While the other actors are equally entrenched in their characters, the script does not allow for them to be as fully fleshed out as Kate, which is unfortunate.

Visually, it’s stunning. The shots where Kate is waking up in parks and under bridges are, despite their starkness, beautiful. Ponsoldt gives a lot of camera time to faces, especially close-ups of Winstead, as if he were trying to use the camera as an x-ray machine to show us exactly what they are thinking.

There’s a reason why Smashed turned heads (and picked up a Special Jury Prize at Sundance this year). There is a tangible sense of reality that permeates through the film. Smashed excels at honestly portraying the stigma of alcoholism and showing how resisting the urge to drink is only the first of the complications that being sober brings.

While an excellent film, its harshness leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, not unlike that of the whiskey Kate favours. But sometimes watching — or doing something that feels difficult is a good thing.

Smashed is playing at Cineplex-Odeon Forum, check your local listings for showtimes.

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Uncategorized

The changing face of horror

The monster from popular 2002 horror movie The Ring

Imagine seeing the face of the Frankenstein monster in theaters for the first time. Imagine that you were one of the first to see the haunting image of Dracula’s castle or hear the howl of the Wolf man.

Those images, now so mundane, were at one point considered frightening. The Frankenstein monster was grotesque, the castle was rich in haunting atmosphere and the werewolf’s howl sent chills down people’s spines.

These horror movies inspired fear in their time but one would argue that they no longer have that same power. A lot of the techniques of horror from the age of Frankenstein are still employed today but to a different degree.

For one thing, the advent of technology has greatly increased the realism of horror movies. Also, film standards are less stringent than they were in the 1930s when movies like Frankenstein and Dracula were released. The Motion Picture Production Code of 1930, also known as the Hays Code prohibited the portrayal of brutal killings in detail or murder in a way that could spark imitation. This is not the case today, as exemplified by such brutally violent films as Saw, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre or The Human Centipede.

Dir. James Whale’s iconic Frankenstein (1931)
The older films were about the atmosphere; the horror of the unnatural in unnatural places. They featured uninhabited castles with dripping stone walls, locked rooms, secret dungeons, abandoned and overgrown graveyards, creaking staircases, clanking of chains, swirling mists and sudden shrieking winds.

Atmosphere still plays a key role in modern horror films such as Paranormal Activity and Silence of the Lambs but is enhanced with help of technology. The atmosphere of modern horror movies are less about the supernatural and more about the everyday gone wrong.

As technology has progressed so have the techniques of terror. An increase in the quality of sound, costume and visual effect serve to make the horror all the more realistic, and therefore more terrifying, for viewers. Dracula or Frankensteinare no longer as terrifying to modern audiences because we’ve come to expect horror films to be incredibly realistic and engaging as a result of technology.

In movies of old, evil creatures and monsters were supernatural beings, they were costumed to resemble nothing remotely human. These days, evil is more likely to have a human resemblance, suggesting that modern viewers find the idea of evil that looks human scarier than evil in a mask.

In a sense, the fundamentals of horror have not changed all that much over the years. As human beings, we still find the same fundamental concepts frightening but, thanks to our imagination and technology, there will always be new methods of conveying those fundamental fears and new frights are to be had from them. In the words of Edgar Allan Poe, “Perversity is the human thirst for self-torture.”

With files from Amanda L. Shore

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Arts

The battle for information

Press photo for Jean-Phillippe Tremblay’s documentary Shadows of Liberty

Every day, we are flooded with messages from a variety of media sources. How we process these messages counts in how we make decisions, form opinions and essentially live our lives. When we seek messages in the form of news, we turn to our preferred newscasters/news sources not only for their credibility, but because we trust that the sources we choose will inform us on what we need to know.

However, Jean-Phillippe Tremblay’s documentary Shadows of Liberty, demonstrates that American news outlets have been abusing this trust by intentionally customizing or omitting information to suit network self-interests.

Shadows of Liberty presents a series of examples of major news networks that have used news coverage as a way to serve corporate interests, be politically influential and obtain higher ratings.

The first question this documentary answers is how far a conglomerate news network will go to protect corporate interests. The first case analysis deals with CBS news reporter, Roberta Baskin, whose exposé on Nike’s factories in the ‘90s unveiled the inhumane working conditions of overseas factories. Her report made national headlines and gained traction among America’s youth, who protested and boycotted Nike products. When Baskin tried to follow up on the story after the surge in public interest, CBS’s executive producer shut the story down.

When Shadows of Liberty interviews Baskin for her side of the story, she reveals some unsettling facts: CBS and Nike had a contract for the Olympic winter games that same year which required all field news reporters to sport a Nike parka while on the air. Baskin’s news story evidently became a problem of commercial interest which, in this case, seems to have taken precedence over a news story that mattered to the public.

In another case analysis, NBC’s To Catch a Predator is scrutinized on how they create news stories for the sake of ratings. For those unfamiliar with the show, it executes sting operations on grown men soliciting underage boys and girls in chat rooms and forums. Posing as young boys and girls, To Catch a Predator baits the men to a meeting spot where camera crews and police await. The problem with this show is that it turns a noble intent into a glamorized hour of controversial reality T.V. posing as news.

In the example given in the documentary, To Catch a Predator goes to the home of a District Attorney after attempts at luring him to a sting site have failed. With camera crews in tow and the police surrounding his home, the District Attorney sees no escape and ends his life. This type of operation is seen as having been a blatant plea for ratings. A case where cameras should have been turned off to protect the integrity of the police case and the District Attorney’s family.

Shadows of Liberty is a well-structured and timely documentary. It brings into question the things we see and hear in mass media and makes us wonder about the things we do not. For those who love documentaries that reveal truths that otherwise never see the light of day, Shadows of Liberty is worth checking out.

Shadows of Liberty will be shown at 7 p.m. Nov. 5 at 1455 de Maisonneuve W. Room H-110. Admission is by donation. For more information, visit cinemapolitica.org/concordia

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Arts

Action outside of the box

Joseph Gordon-Levitt (right) plays Bruce Willis’ younger self in Looper.

There is a moment of blessed relief when the older, Bruce Willis version of Joe tells his younger self, played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt to shut up and stop talking about time travel.

It is a welcome difference in this film when compared to other time travel movies. Looper is not concerned with the mechanics of its science fiction element but simply uses it as a narrative tool. The result: Looper comes across as much smarter than the average action film.

The film centers around the character of Joe, an assassin with a very special job. He only kills people from the future. These assassins, called loopers, kill victims who have been sent from the future, disposing of their bodies in the past.

If this sounds complicated, then don’t think about it, as the movie tells you adamantly not to. The point to understand is that loopers kill people from the future, which can become problematic since the last person a looper always kills is himself. Not in the average suicide sense, but rather the past looper will shoot his future self and then go live out his retirement, knowing full well how it will one day end. The younger Joe faces this problem when his older self appears and then escapes.

As stated before, best not to think about it. What really makes Looper work is its performances. There is great supporting work done by Jeff Daniels, who plays a tired-looking mafia leader from the future. Emily Blunt is above satisfactory in providing more than just the usual sort of love interest. The young Pierce Gagnon should also be given enormous credit for a thoroughly powerful child performance, especially since his face is able to convey a wider variety of emotion than any other character. But really, there is only one person most people will talk about coming out of this movie and that is Gordon-Levitt.

The uncanny nature in his performance does not come from the makeup. Despite the best efforts of Hollywood makeup, there is no point where Levitt could be believed to be a younger version of Willis. The appearance just doesn’t cut it. What sells it is the acting. Gordon-Levitt could not act more like Willis if the two had lived together for years. In a performance that harkens back to Zachary Quinto’s style of mimicry in Star Trek (2009), Gordon-Levitt perfectly copies the mannerisms of Willis as well as his method of speaking and facial tics. The result is the audience believing that they are seeing a version of Willis that is thirty years younger, despite knowing full well what the actor looked like at the time.

These powerful performances, combined with an intriguing plot that does not unfold exactly as expected as well as coherently-shot action sequences will leave you feeling very satisfied with Looper. This may not be the next Blade Runner but it is well more than a cut above many recent action films. The movie may not want you to think about time travel and that’s fine, it doesn’t stop it from using it very effectively. The first blockbuster by Rian Johnson (Breaking Bad) is not to be missed. This is the film that action and science-fiction audiences have been waiting for: a reason to return to the cinema.

Looper opened in theatres Sept. 28. Check your local listings for showtimes and locations.

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