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Reviews
Srpski film (2010)
The cutting-edge of violence and porn
More repulsive than Pasolini's Salò, more uncomfortable than Gaspar Noë's Irreversible and more controversial than Ken Russell's The Devils. A Serbian Film is certainly one of the most powerful and creative representation of violence ever seen.
This 2010 film is a acutely well-observed and intelligent study of the atrocities committed by the Serbian government, deftly symbolised by ultra-sadistic pornography. It is a commentary on a nation's alienation and the world's oblivion towards a culture of abuse. The sexuality of the characters in the film is utterly perverse and twisted, while pleasure is inexorably linked to pain.
A Serbian Film starts out as a clichéd family drama of retired porn star Milos, who decides to make his last feature film – supposedly an art-porn flick - in order to make ends meet for his family. He is persuaded to sign a contract without knowing the film content, which turns out to be snuff movie containing murder, necrophilia, paedophilia and incest - all graphically detailed for the un-delight of the audiences. Gradually, the narrative breaks down into several layers, including memories, allegories and videotapes. There is no redemption in the end of the film. Instead, everyone around Milos becomes encapsulated in the snuff-art-porn horror – either as an accomplice or as a victim.
Debuting Serbian director Srdan Spasojevic describes his porn-horror flick as "a diary of our own molestation by the Serbian government".
Differently from Hollywood thrillers and mainstream slashers, violence in A Serbian Film has a purpose: denouncing the recent history of a country and the convenient omission of its population. Serbia conducted two wars in less than 15 years and committed the large massacre in Europe since the 2nd World War. More than 8,000 civilians were killed in just a day by Serbian troops in Sebrenica in July 1995, an act more repugnant than all sequences in Saposevic's film combined. To this date, few have been convicted of war crimes, and most of the killers remain at large.
Serbian twisted sexuality has been a subject of other films dealing with Serbian culture, including Marina Abramovic's Balkan Erotic Epic. But Spasojevic goes beyond sex and constructs the ultimate anti-erotic piece. A Serbian Film is so violently energetic that it is hardly impossible to watch – let alone derive any pleasure from it. A masterpiece of political and social denunciation.
Trois couleurs: Rouge (1994)
Blinding red
It's easy to get lost in Kieslowski's Three Colours Red. The story is flooded with symbolisms, the performances are intricate and the colours are highly charged. Oh, how wonderful it is to be blissfully aloof in a maze of verdant hedges of ingenuity! The Polish director last trilogy piece skilfully epitomises and gracefully wraps up the tensions and questions raised by the three films. It exposes the contrasts of French and Western civilisation values and ideals, and how people reconcile them with their own needs and sentiments.
Three Colours Red depicts the life of Valentine, a part-time model who becomes linked to a retired judge. Their flawed relationship and latent desires of the latter reflect the grim and contradictory nature of the our judicial system. The film shows that "justice" is conducted by human beings – who are just as biased, fallible and susceptible as those who are being judged – and therefore vastly flawed in principle. It is also an allegory of corruption and a reminder that one often has to barter for "fraternity" (one of the French/Western ideals represented in the trilogy)
Mat i syn (1997)
Painting without a brush
It's so visually stimulating that it transcends reality. Sokurov subverts cinema by concentrating on each individual frame, as if we were watching a 24 frames by second succession of impeccable paintings in a hypnotic pinachoteca. It's like being in an art gallery where the paintings – and not the viewers – move.
The Russian director skilfully exposes the grey and vacuous existence of an ailing mother and her doting son against the backdrop of verdant Russian summer. Death is overwhelming and yet comforting. The grainy images are dainty and delicate, as in the ephemerality of life. The dialogue is minimal. Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm. Mutter and Soh is beyond cinema: near-static images that speak for themselves, feeble lives that unravel into infinity, like grainy water-based paintings which quickly wear out.
Trois couleurs: Bleu (1993)
Broken homes and solitude
The baby skin is so red and thin that a stroke of light or wind could make it burst. Mama's desperation shows in her eyes and frantic manners when the next - where she quietly raises her brood - is suddenly uncovered. It's just a mouse family and yet their physical vulnerability and strong family ties draw us close to them. We pity their ordeal; we mimic their fear and pain. We are reminded that one day we were defenceless babies, too. For a few moments, we no longer distinguish between human and rodent feelings.
Three Colours Blue is an acutely well-observed study of human solitude and broken homes. The protagonist Julie (Juliette Binoche) has just lost her family (husband and daughter) in a car accident. She is disheartened and despondent as she attempts to recreate her life. The encounter with the mouse family represents the newfound feeling of sympathy. She is unable to kill the mice because such barbarous act would represent the perpetuation of her own family disintegration.
Finally, Julie borrows the neighbour's cat in order to carry out the murderous task. Her decision is contradictory but also liberating. She finally forgave herself for the death of her husband and daughter and decided to move on with her life. There should be no room for guilt and fear in our lives, Kiéslowski reminds us.
Jean Charles (2009)
Unfortunately a very bad film about a very touching story
Henrique Goldman's Jean Charles is very disappointing, with just about every aspect of the movie being flawed. The script is unconvincing, the cinematography is mediocre, the direction is loose, most performances are very poor and the narrative is full of errors.
Selton Mello depiction of Jean Charles - who has mistaken for a terrorist and consequently murdered by Scotland Yard in London five years ago – is just average. Vanessa Giacomo provides one of the few refreshing aspects of the film: she is very touching as Jean Charles's cousin Vivian, conveying a solemn, subtle sadness and a true sense of alienation to her immigrant experience. Other characters are highly clichéd: the camp gay friend, the greedy Asian restaurant owner, the imbecile immigration officer and the inarticulate country bumpkin.
Confusingly, the director states in the opening that the film is "inspired by a real story", and yet he depicted the most important events of the Jean's saga in London as close as possible to reality. This includes the moment Jean Charles is shot inside a train at Stockwell station, as well as various locations and character names throughout the film. The result is a jumble of actual facts and clumsily fabricated and embroidered story lines – a cinematic zorse (a morbid crossing and zebra and horse).
Some scenes are unnecessary, unrealistic and grossly crafted and enacted, such as when Jean and his builder friends are rewarded for their hard work with a group of bosomy prostitutes and a sex party unravels, or when Vivian encounters an old acquaintance and is seemingly surprised by his effeminate looks and bulky black boyfriend.
There is a succession of glaring bloopers and blunders, far beyond the innocent continuity error. For example, Jean Charles's cousin Vivian inexplicably masters English and a large builder's job worth a whopping £80,000 is completed to perfection by Jean Charles and his friends in less than two weeks – the period between the London bombings and Jean Charles's death.
Sidney Magal's live performance – a Brazilian singer from the 1980s who has long fallen into near-obscurity – adds a rare spark of originality to the film. It celebrates tacky culture and offers a return to a primal, unpretentious root of Brazilian pop culture.
Goldman's intentions in making a film about Jean Charles and reminding us of the impunity of his killers are praiseworthy. He was also well-positioned to do so, being a Brazilian immigrant in London. He worked hard to obtain funds from the UK Film Council as well as support from British legend Stephen Frears. But the film has not even obtained theatrical distribution in the UK. The British film industry and British audiences are not to blame – I think that they would love to see a good film depicting the saga of the Brazilian electrician and the consequences of his untimely death. The problem is that Goldman's film delivers neither an opinionated account of the events nor a touching story of an immigrant: it is simply a bad film.
O Crime do Padre Amaro (2005)
Simply awful
The script is extremely poor, the acting is lamentable, the soundtrack is annoying. This film is an incredibly poor adaptation of Eca's book, which unsuccessfully tries to transpose it to the 21st century. It simply doesn't work - not because it is not possible to adapt Eca's classic to a modern environment, but simply because nothing in the film works: the twists are predictable, it heavily relies on conventionally-beautiful naked body and simulated sex and on clichés (such as the gay characters, the gangsters). The plots and characters are disjointed. It tries to portray a multicultural modern Portugal, but the attempt is also flawed, leaving the viewer lost.