I gave a high rating because of the very low (and unfair) ratings here. This may not be a masterpiece but it is a really good-feel movie, that makes you smile throughout. Also, as loosely based on a true story, it made me go on Wikipedia to read about the real events, real people, as well as culture and history of the (American) Samoa people. Fassbender was a surprisingly good choice, as a European coach that did not immediately connect or understand the zen culture of the Samoans. And I loved the Samoan Haka at the end, absolutely wonderful. Really very enjoyable, and perfect for our family outing on 26 December.
Reviews
5 Reviews
Lust, Caution
(2007)
First class wartime thriller
3 February 2008
The film revisits a harrowing and crucial event in recent Asian history - the Japanese occupation during WWII and all the horrors that came with it.
In this match between the reserved collaborationist chief of police and the innocent student turned brave spy for the Chinese resistance, complex emotions, such as patriotism, courage, honour, loneliness, hate, love and betrayal, are quietly and provocatively depicted.
It is in the (few) sex scenes that the film's emotions become so powerful and character-defining. The story's chief male character expresses himself mainly through those sex scenes, at first violently, as if angry against himself. The young heroine, in turn, learns the art of seduction confidently in order to help kill a traitor, but her patriotic duty soon becomes intolerable, as expressed by her tears in the aftermath of passionate love-making. It is in one later scene, at a Japanese brothel, that lust is finally seen as developing into mutual love.
Direction, acting, score, cinematography and costumes are all first class in this compelling wartime thriller.
The film also pays tribute to film noir masterworks, such as "Casablanca" and "Suspicion", as well as other classics such as "Last Tango in Paris".
Oscar worthy (even if strangely neglected).
In this match between the reserved collaborationist chief of police and the innocent student turned brave spy for the Chinese resistance, complex emotions, such as patriotism, courage, honour, loneliness, hate, love and betrayal, are quietly and provocatively depicted.
It is in the (few) sex scenes that the film's emotions become so powerful and character-defining. The story's chief male character expresses himself mainly through those sex scenes, at first violently, as if angry against himself. The young heroine, in turn, learns the art of seduction confidently in order to help kill a traitor, but her patriotic duty soon becomes intolerable, as expressed by her tears in the aftermath of passionate love-making. It is in one later scene, at a Japanese brothel, that lust is finally seen as developing into mutual love.
Direction, acting, score, cinematography and costumes are all first class in this compelling wartime thriller.
The film also pays tribute to film noir masterworks, such as "Casablanca" and "Suspicion", as well as other classics such as "Last Tango in Paris".
Oscar worthy (even if strangely neglected).
Gone Baby Gone
(2007)
Intelligent and audacious script
6 January 2008
This is a very disturbing film, not the least for its immediate topical connotation, as the first few minutes can't help but remind us of the true story of little Madeleine's disappearance in recent months, still haunting the UK and making the daily news today.
What makes this film so particular, beyond its harrowing journey into the depths of the underworld of drugs and pedophilia, is the conflict that ultimately brings the story to an end: the conflict between law and moral justice.
Overall, a well acted film, and an intelligent and audacious script which will leave your mind tinkling.
8 out of 10, highly recommended.
What makes this film so particular, beyond its harrowing journey into the depths of the underworld of drugs and pedophilia, is the conflict that ultimately brings the story to an end: the conflict between law and moral justice.
Overall, a well acted film, and an intelligent and audacious script which will leave your mind tinkling.
8 out of 10, highly recommended.
City of God
(2002)
A major achievement through and through - it did deserve an Oscar!
14 February 2003
When I decided to see City of God at the London Film Festival last November, I was not expecting to hear at the film's introductory speech, that this film was in fact `one of the most anticipated screenings at this year's LFF'. After all, the festival was already well packed with sought-after films, such as The Quiet American, Bowline for Columbine, The Pianist, Dirty Pretty Things, or The Dancer Upstairs! However, I was immediately taken aback by the energy of the opening chase sequence, which powerfully and unexpectedly introduced the audience to Rio de Janeiro's most dangerous neighbourhoods, the "City of God" slum.
Critics have often compared this film with several other masterpieces, particularly Amores Perros, for confirming Latin American cinema's resurgence, and China Town, for superbly uncovering a web of violence and political scandal, but any comparison fails to do justice to Meirelles' singular achievement. This is an undeniably powerful film, and it would have been, according to all British film critics, a strong contender for an Oscar nomination in the category of Best Foreign Language Film. And here are the reasons why.
This is a stylish and visually stunning film covering three decades of the lives of residents in one of Rio de Janeiro's slums, giving a faithful portrait of its particular reputation as a `cross between an orphanage and an abattoir'.
The film is a major achievement for its screenwriter. Based on true stories, the source material was a 700-page novel by Paulo Lins, a book containing about 300 characters and 300 different plots. The screenwriter somehow miraculously produced a script that maintained not only its coherence but also the essence of the book, i.e., the sharp edges of reality and of characters defined by unusually harsh circumstances. However, the script has crucially also allowed some light in: glimpses of the humour, exuberance, and humanity of the characters. What the scriptwriter and the director did was to take all the depth and detail of a long text and reinterpret it visually. There is a central character, the narrator Rocket, who frequently interrupts the action to inform us that a certain character will be back later, and key scenes are frequently repeated. It's a device, but a good one because we always know who's who, what's what, where we've been and where we're going in what could have been more than two hours of mass confusion.
The film is a major achievement for its entire cast. All performances are remarkable. Developed over a year's improvisation, many performers were recruited directly from the slum and acted for the first time. The children acting in this film deliver some of the most convincing scenes ever caught on the camera.
The film is a major achievement in cinematography. There is a different visual style for each decade, thus helping to position the scenes in its right context. The style subtly changes from the traditional framing of early scenes to jerky camera movements, jumpy editing and a riot of colours (as if to challenge the growing crude reality), while remaining attractively cinematic.
The film is a major achievement in editing. In one word: electric!
The film is, last but not the least, a major achievement for its director, Fernando Meirelles, one of Brazil's best-known commercial directors. In City of God, Meirelles does everything with his camera: he keeps it still, cruises it handheld in documentary fashion, dives in reaction to violence, twists around in panic. The director masterfully uses harsh lighting, fast cutting, speeded-up action, jump cuts, moving the film along with lightning speed. Meirelles never dwells on anything.
Meirelles' flair and lightness of touch do not conceal the wide-ranging social and political insights the film offers through its engrossing narrative, which is driven forward by exhilarating camerawork and scorching soundtrack. This film is a triumph, and, its effect is not easily summarised in a movie review; it has to be experienced.
The question that remains, and which will never perhaps find an answer, is why such a powerful film has been overlooked by the Academy and not been awarded with an Oscar nomination.
Critics have often compared this film with several other masterpieces, particularly Amores Perros, for confirming Latin American cinema's resurgence, and China Town, for superbly uncovering a web of violence and political scandal, but any comparison fails to do justice to Meirelles' singular achievement. This is an undeniably powerful film, and it would have been, according to all British film critics, a strong contender for an Oscar nomination in the category of Best Foreign Language Film. And here are the reasons why.
This is a stylish and visually stunning film covering three decades of the lives of residents in one of Rio de Janeiro's slums, giving a faithful portrait of its particular reputation as a `cross between an orphanage and an abattoir'.
The film is a major achievement for its screenwriter. Based on true stories, the source material was a 700-page novel by Paulo Lins, a book containing about 300 characters and 300 different plots. The screenwriter somehow miraculously produced a script that maintained not only its coherence but also the essence of the book, i.e., the sharp edges of reality and of characters defined by unusually harsh circumstances. However, the script has crucially also allowed some light in: glimpses of the humour, exuberance, and humanity of the characters. What the scriptwriter and the director did was to take all the depth and detail of a long text and reinterpret it visually. There is a central character, the narrator Rocket, who frequently interrupts the action to inform us that a certain character will be back later, and key scenes are frequently repeated. It's a device, but a good one because we always know who's who, what's what, where we've been and where we're going in what could have been more than two hours of mass confusion.
The film is a major achievement for its entire cast. All performances are remarkable. Developed over a year's improvisation, many performers were recruited directly from the slum and acted for the first time. The children acting in this film deliver some of the most convincing scenes ever caught on the camera.
The film is a major achievement in cinematography. There is a different visual style for each decade, thus helping to position the scenes in its right context. The style subtly changes from the traditional framing of early scenes to jerky camera movements, jumpy editing and a riot of colours (as if to challenge the growing crude reality), while remaining attractively cinematic.
The film is a major achievement in editing. In one word: electric!
The film is, last but not the least, a major achievement for its director, Fernando Meirelles, one of Brazil's best-known commercial directors. In City of God, Meirelles does everything with his camera: he keeps it still, cruises it handheld in documentary fashion, dives in reaction to violence, twists around in panic. The director masterfully uses harsh lighting, fast cutting, speeded-up action, jump cuts, moving the film along with lightning speed. Meirelles never dwells on anything.
Meirelles' flair and lightness of touch do not conceal the wide-ranging social and political insights the film offers through its engrossing narrative, which is driven forward by exhilarating camerawork and scorching soundtrack. This film is a triumph, and, its effect is not easily summarised in a movie review; it has to be experienced.
The question that remains, and which will never perhaps find an answer, is why such a powerful film has been overlooked by the Academy and not been awarded with an Oscar nomination.
The Pianist
(2002)
10 out of 10
20 January 2003
The Pianist is an account of the true life experience of a Polish pianist during WW2, in the context of the deportation of the Jewish community to the Ghetto of Warsaw, a setting virtually absent from all films inspired on WW2.
Polanski (himself a child survivor of the Krakow and Warsaw ghettos) could have described in more detail the legendary, desperate fighting of the Jewish resistance in the ghetto of Warsaw, or the horrific mass extermination in concentration camps. Instead, the film gains in intensity by displaying the war from the pianist's own point of view (through windows, half-opened doors, holes in the walls - with big emphasis on the use of "point of view shooting" by the cameraman). One cannot help feeling disturbed by the most enthralling scenes of the film, as the isolated pianist tries to ensure his survival in the ghetto and ruins of Warsaw, hiding and fleeing, moving from one bombed house to the next, gradually becoming a shadow of his former self, hungry and afraid (merit largely attributed to the extraordinary performance by Adrien Brody, who visibly loses half of his weight throughout the film).
Does the pianist raise any sympathy from the audience? Not immediately, in my view. The pianist is more than often a drifting character, almost a witness of other people's and his own horrors. He seems to float and drift along the film like a lost feather, with people quickly appearing and disappearing from his life, some helping generously, others taking advantage of his quiet despair, always maintaining an almost blank, dispassionate demeanour. One may even wonder why we should care in the least about this character. But we do care. That is, I believe, the secret to this film's poetry.
In one of the strongest scenes, towards the end, a German officer forces the pianist to play for his life, in an episode that suddenly brings a much lighter, beautifully poetic shade to the film (this German officer will be probably compared to Schindler, although his philanthropy does not quite share the same basis).
This is also a wonderful tribute to Polish artists, through Chopin's music, with the concert at the very end of the film and the opening performance by the pianist at the local radio station (with the sound of bomb explosions in the background) forming an harmonious link between the beginning and end of the film (following Polanski's usual story-frame).
Overall, The Pianist is one of the most detailed and shocking accounts of the treatment of the Jews by the Nazis, with the atmosphere in Warsaw well captured and believable. Quite possibly, The Pianist will remain in the history of film-making as the most touching and realistic portraits of the holocaust ever made.
Polanski's film deserves a strong presence in the 2003 Oscar nominations, including a nomination for Adrien Brody's amazing performance, Polanski's sublime direction, best adapted screenplay and, obviously, best picture. This could be, at last, Polanski's long awaited, triumphal comeback to the high and mighty Hollywood.
Polanski (himself a child survivor of the Krakow and Warsaw ghettos) could have described in more detail the legendary, desperate fighting of the Jewish resistance in the ghetto of Warsaw, or the horrific mass extermination in concentration camps. Instead, the film gains in intensity by displaying the war from the pianist's own point of view (through windows, half-opened doors, holes in the walls - with big emphasis on the use of "point of view shooting" by the cameraman). One cannot help feeling disturbed by the most enthralling scenes of the film, as the isolated pianist tries to ensure his survival in the ghetto and ruins of Warsaw, hiding and fleeing, moving from one bombed house to the next, gradually becoming a shadow of his former self, hungry and afraid (merit largely attributed to the extraordinary performance by Adrien Brody, who visibly loses half of his weight throughout the film).
Does the pianist raise any sympathy from the audience? Not immediately, in my view. The pianist is more than often a drifting character, almost a witness of other people's and his own horrors. He seems to float and drift along the film like a lost feather, with people quickly appearing and disappearing from his life, some helping generously, others taking advantage of his quiet despair, always maintaining an almost blank, dispassionate demeanour. One may even wonder why we should care in the least about this character. But we do care. That is, I believe, the secret to this film's poetry.
In one of the strongest scenes, towards the end, a German officer forces the pianist to play for his life, in an episode that suddenly brings a much lighter, beautifully poetic shade to the film (this German officer will be probably compared to Schindler, although his philanthropy does not quite share the same basis).
This is also a wonderful tribute to Polish artists, through Chopin's music, with the concert at the very end of the film and the opening performance by the pianist at the local radio station (with the sound of bomb explosions in the background) forming an harmonious link between the beginning and end of the film (following Polanski's usual story-frame).
Overall, The Pianist is one of the most detailed and shocking accounts of the treatment of the Jews by the Nazis, with the atmosphere in Warsaw well captured and believable. Quite possibly, The Pianist will remain in the history of film-making as the most touching and realistic portraits of the holocaust ever made.
Polanski's film deserves a strong presence in the 2003 Oscar nominations, including a nomination for Adrien Brody's amazing performance, Polanski's sublime direction, best adapted screenplay and, obviously, best picture. This could be, at last, Polanski's long awaited, triumphal comeback to the high and mighty Hollywood.
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