Edi_Drums Reviews

Thunder Birds: Soldiers of the Air (1942)

Mixed message

[16 March 2019]

A confused, mushy film with a spineless, roving plot which, for me, failed to convince as either (i) a remotely believable love story, (ii) persuasive propoganda - indulgent forays into the love triangle being totally at odds with the rousing, 'our great men' voiceovers trying to tie it together at intro and outro - and (iii) a war film in itself (due to the lack of detail given to the true grit and challenges of the training process, let alone the laughable Hollywood liberties, coincidences and close shaves fobbed off again and again).

I found the spinelessness of it all quite a betrayal to the beauty and poise of the three main characters themselves, the true mettle and determination of trainee pilots, as well as the gung ho title. The film actually reminded me of another soppy plot which also falls flat of its title: TANK BATTALION (1958). In both films, the first 10-20 mins purport to going in the direction of something resembling a war film, before descending into something quite different. Films with more mettle, the kind of which I have enjoyed and will stick to, include SUBMARINE COMMAND (1951) and RUN SILENT, RUN DEEP (1958).

Earthlings (2005)

Unity (2015) should greatly expand Earthlings' audience

[19 March 2018]

I was originally pleased to read that Earthlings was part of a planned trilogy. Dismay, however, set in - tremendously judgmental as I am being, having only watched the two-minute trailer for Unity (2015) - that the latter film appeared to be a celeb bandwagon of diluted, optimistic mush which, for me, only served to highlight the gaping power and impact of Earthlings still further.

Perhaps Shaun and Joaquin knew that if they could just dish up that high-calibre cast of one-line droppers over ever-present soft warm chords and reams of global footage, then they would ultimately broaden the audience of the first installment: yes, a wider audience to watch Earthlings. Watching Earthlings is a gnawing necessity. You and I know this. As one film quote notes, 'Everyone who sees Earthlings tells three people'...

And, of course, every being wants 'unity' (or at least survival, food and shelter). A bit of harmony along the way would be nice too. Can't argue with that. And so, if 99 minutes of warm chords, tears, smiles, bombs and prayers (which repeatedly left me wondering 'When is this extended airline advertisement's signature slogan coming?', or, 'This is one drawn-out UN charity disaster appeal!'), if it results in more people watching Earthlings, WELL BLOODY DONE to the filmmakers.

Age 13 (1955)

Precludes Francois Truffaut four years later

[28 January 2018]

As other reviewers note, Age 13 seems rigid, clunky and stiffly acted from a 21st-century perspective. However, it may have had wide distribution and a very important and positive impact for viewers at the time.

For me, it was interesting to try and imagine some of the other things that might have been in the minds of people while seeing this kind of material in the mid-1950s. The Korean war? Reconstructing Germany? The music of Stockhausen, Pierre Boulez, Little Richard, Duke Ellington or Jackie Wilson? Only someone old enough to remember can really know. Also interesting for me is how Age 13 portrays the institutional approach to child psychoanalysis and psychotherapy at the time. How much things had changed, even twenty years later.

The fantastical runaway sequence, starting at 21 minutes, was reminiscent of the final scene of Francois Truffaut's 400 Blows ('Les 400 Coups') of 1959, in which the troubled young protagonist also flees his environment - but ending with sadness and ambiguity rather than the convenient settling down and happy ending that is cosily portrayed here.

First Contact (1982)

Sudden, rapid change in a previously self-contained world

[11 October 2010]

From a western viewpoint, the Papua New Guineans' interpretations of seeing 'whiteman' for the first time - with his strange clothes and gadgets, eg. aeroplane and gramophone - can initially seem comical. I think that this is for two reasons:

1) The subtitles do not attempt to soften the New Guineans' direct way of talking. On seeing and hearing the plane, one woman says 'We were pi**ing and sh**ing ourselves'; on seeing a westerner wearing shorts, 'We thought he must have a very long penis wrapped around his waist under that lap-lap (loin cloth).'

2) Their conclusions that the white people were spirits of their ancestors returning from the dead, that the aeroplane was a huge bird, and the gramophone a 'box of ghosts', are of course totally logical, but nevertheless as humorously endearing, as is a child's simplistic logic. (Mentioning this second point can sound condescending and culturally superior – an issue discussed at length in the American Anthropological Association paper "Laughing at First Contact", Visual Anthropology Review, AnthroSource, March 2006.)

The Leahy brothers are not portrayed as particularly shrewd and exploitative, and state frankly that they were there in search of gold, Eldorado-style. It's quite believable that they shot and killed to protect themselves from attack, if indeed their other-worldly status dissolved so soon, and their steel spades and axes so quickly became objects of desire. In further support of the Leahy's 'defensive' killings is the notion that belligerence and inter-tribal aggression is evidently an entrenched part of the society. (See the second film of the trilogy, 'Joe Leahy's Neighbours'.)

Regarding the Australians' influence upon 'currency', the programme suggests that notions of wealth and status were already in existence: their manifestation in terms of land and pig tenure simply had a new dimension added: kina pearl shells – to inevitably one day become paper money of course, which itself, ironically, is also the kina, PNG's national currency.

It would have been interesting if, during their interviews with the two surviving Leahy brothers, Connolly and Anderson had probed them about their activities with girls. The girls themselves – now elderly women in 1983 – talk frankly and casually about how they were encouraged by their own husbands to lay with Masta Mick and his brothers in exchange for shells. They overcame their initial fear, gained some trust of the white men, were impregnated, and today appear proud of their mixed-race offspring. We learn about one, Joe Leahy, in the third installment of the trilogy, 'Black Harvest'. Whether or not you would term this sexual trading 'exploitation' depends on your point of you. In any case Joe Leahy is (arguably) portrayed as a man of relative dignity who who tries hard to straddle, even to bridge, the abyss between his parents' cultures, prioritising his own business success whilst also trying and advance the Gariga tribe's wealth through coffee farming. Again, you may or may not deem his actions exploitative, depending on your reaction to 'Black Harvest'.

The 'it's-come-from-the-sky!' reactions of the New Guinean people in First Contact reminded me of the well-known South African film The Gods Must Be Crazy, a fictional comedy in which a Kalahari bushman finds a glass bottle which has dropped from a plane. In that film tragedy underlies the humour, tragedy which is fully revealed in the DVD's accompanying 'making of' documentary. Meanwhile, although First Contact shows 'whiteman's' sudden arrival jolting the very foundations of the Highland communities, shattering their hitherto self-contained world, and catapulting them into a process of rapid familiarization with the West, the film makers do not inherently suggest any negative repercussions triggered by the Leahy brothers' coming, even if there in fact were.

To stumble upon this powerful documentary on You Tube was an enlightening experience - though unfortunately it no longer seems available there. The book upon which the film is based - also called First Contact, also by Connolly and Anderson - may be even more detailed and fascinating. Whether or not it is, as another reviewer has commented, such instances of 'first contact' with isolated communities of people caught on audio-visual record must be few and far between - even more so today than in 1930.

Us Now (2009)

Succinct, observant, self-narrating documentary

[12 January 2010]

"There's a whole new model emerging whereby we - the public - become part of the government."

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Using eloquent and inspiring interviews interlaced with slick aerial, urban, and animated footage and backed by a deep soundtrack of warm strings, Gormley's superbly paced and cohesive film clearly demonstrates to us the massive democratic potential held by the internet.

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"Opacity hides things, but it also helps build the scandals that cause politicians masses of trouble." A significant remark considering, say, the expenses scandal that swept through British politics in 2009.

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The film's subject matter is incredibly relevant to the rapidly evolving role of the internet in our lives today, and the optimism generated in the viewer over 59 minutes is rare and uplifting.

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"We've seen lots of changes in the past that could POTENTIALLY lead to a better world, but which have resulted in, say, First World War trench warfare or genocide in the Second World War. We should, therefore, be careful about having too Utopian a vision for how these changes will play out."

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As an important benchmark documenting the contemporary circumstances and laying bare huge arenas of unexplored potential for powerful collaborative use of the internet in what are fast-changing times, this succinct, observant film will no doubt be as fascinating retrospective viewing in years to come as it is today.

The Spanish Apartment (2002)

The 'joyeux bordel' that is Europe

[21 July 2009]

At first sight, this film is a lively and engaging comedy, particularly for anybody familiar with the world of Erasmus students. Klapisch has undoubtedly succeeded in capturing the atmosphere of the multi-national student squat, creating an immediately interesting cultural crossroads, and of course a premise for lots of stereotyped jokes. And what trendier place for it all to take place than Barcelona ? The film's sparky characterisation (particularly Wendy zi English and her 'geezer' of a brother) proves that Klapish has observed intently the lifestyle and behaviour of today's European student travelers.

However, this does not hide a handful of gaping holes in the plot, which are easily noticeable on a second viewing of the film.

L'auberge espagnole falls arms flailing into the voice-over trap: drastic over-use throughout. Whether Klapisch intended to give a bird's eye view of the action, or simply to speed up the pace of the film at times, the result of too much voice-over is that Xavier's character loses its authenticity.

Romain Duris's acting is wooden - particularly with so many beautiful females around. As for Judith Godreche, she plays a non-starter of a part. Her character has no proper relationship with either of her men.

Klapish has paid attention to some nice little details. A quick shot of a sandal's foot on a marble staircase, William the English lad's upturned collar, and a TV clip of the Catalan sport of human tower-building, for example.

However these little gems cannot hide flagrant over-editing which stagger the flow of the film and dissolve any feeling of resolution at the end. The frantic city running scene 'à la 007' is ridiculous: why ALL the house mates have to return so suddenly remains a mystery.

Some say this film makes political reference to the leading European powers. I think that it just wants to be a light entertaining comedy: it nearly fails even to be that !

Only Yesterday (1991)

Silent credits: that's style

[18 December 2008]

The understated simplicity of the family pineapple-tasting scene was totally effective at inducing my affection for the characters, and pitying their dashed hopes when the fruit turns out to be unripe... face expressions and all!

Although voice-over is used heavily throughout, it doesn't seem excessive: we are moved very smoothly between the present and the past. The mood of Taeko's faltering confidence and difficult childhood memories is greatly helped by long periods without music, where all that we hear is rainfall, a rattling train, the sound of winscreen wipers, or even just silence.

The music that we do hear is evocative and moving, particularly the Hungarian folk music and the choral singing. When 'The Rose' began as a final song, my heart sank: in my eight years as a London choirboy, this was the naffest piece in all the repertoire, and it sounds no less so in Japanese. However, as Taeko, urged on by her 'childhood ghosts', suddenly overcomes her shyness and follows her heart back to Kazuo, I was very moved by the appropriateness of this closure. My final impression of this modest film was, in a matter of moments, completely turned around.

And to end with silent credits: the very definition of style!

Whisky (2004)

"Todos los dias, lo mismo" : Every day, the same

[15 December 2008]

Jacobo rolls up the shutter. He starts up the machines. Marta has cigarette breaks. The other girls natter at lunch-time. Marta checks their bags at home-time... From the very start of the film, the repetition of these little factory scenarios draws in the viewer, lulling us into a sense of familiarity with the character's monotonous daily lives. Shown once, it would make mundane footage, but the scenes familiarise and soon endear the viewer through their repetition. Over years and years, such a lifestyle can make you an extension of the very machines you work.

It is remarkable how the film remains lightly humorous in spite of what is (arguably) an overall atmosphere of drabness and gloom. The said gloom is cast, and held fast, by Jacobo, despite Herman's perkiness and enthusiasm. Is the latter's arrival from Brazil a pleasant antidote to the glum life chosen by Jacobo (and undergone by Marta)? Does Herman's optimism, and their trip to the clapped out resort of Piriapolis, succeed in bringing some variation and - dare I say it - PLEASURE into their lives? The answer to these questions depends on your point of view. Marta, I would say, certainly enters into the spirit of the holiday, warming to Herman as she gains confidence. Don Jacobo? Barely! An example of this is when Herman admires the 'thumbs-up' magnet off the fridge; Jacobo puts it back thumbs down!

The absence of music gives the everyday household sounds more relevance, as well as complimenting the domestic comedy. This disciplined economy of sound gives the music much more impact when we do hear it, as in Jacobo's big moment at the roulette wheel. (This is, incidentally, the first time in the film that he displays any hint of a smile.)

Bathroom sketches involving Don Jacobo and Marta are particularly observantly delivered. He walks in on her in the bathroom; she flushes the toilet out of utter boredom at Piriapolis; he sits on the toilet to count winnings; she puts paper over a public toilet seat. We are charmed and amused to have a window onto the very private lives of these two colleagues, now acting as a couple but both reluctant and unfamiliar with married life.

The late mother's honour ceremony is given a single short scene but is preceded by Herman's Jewish joke, revealing him as a self-mocking character. Neither does Don Jacobo display the stereo-typical miserly traits associated with Jews in past times: he is no 'Harpagon' with his roulette winnings, taking a small amount for himself and gifting the rest to Marta.

I am disappointed by Herman's over-long karaoke scene, the poor sequencing of the football match, and the clumsy non-native subtitling ('Soap is at your discretion, señora' - a literal translation from the Spanish). On the other hand, symmetrical 'plans fixes' (fixed shots) occurring throughout – the factory front, the air hockey table, a steaming swimming pool – are very pleasing to the eye.

An endearing, self-contained film of subtle humour, with a modest and unpretentious ending, superbly fitting.

The Goddess (1960)

The lead actress gives her own views

[19 October 2008]

So evocative are the facial expressions and gestures of the characters (in both dramatic display and awkward suppression), and so expressive the use of music and camera angles, that the spoken word seems necessary only to keep the story moving along. Long periods of silence, with only stirring music or even just the background sounds of everyday life, give the scant dialogue secondary importance. It is testament to the power of the self-contained plot.

At the close of the film, we see Uma (the faithful husband) beholding Doya in an ethereally-sunlit bedroom. She is in despair. We can be forgiven for thinking that he is seeing her ghost, or even that the film is about to take a far-fetched, fantastical turn. But no, the director is simply bombarding us with flooding light: the film ends moments later with Doya's panicked flight into the mist.

As a climax to gradually-escalating tension through the film, the ending feels both open to interpretation, whilst also having a dark, sobering finality. In fleeing, Doya may succeed in liberating herself from her situation and regaining her individuality. On the other hand, it could be a crazed act of desperation condemning her to inescapable turmoil and suffering, now irreparably damaged by the effects of her 'deification' - the religious superstition and fanaticism set in motion by her father-in-law, but which has spread so quickly through the community.

This film, in its slow-paced but mesmerising simplicity, is sublime. In 2001, forty-one years after its release, the lead actress Sharmila Tagore discussed the film (in an interview with Nasreen Munni Kabir):

"I was only fourteen when I acted in Devi, so we did the filming during my summer holidays. Sometimes the lighting took a long time to set up, and dealing with the physical tiredness of sitting still, I found myself fitting into the character. I BECAME the character. The key to that kind of performance is not to think: it is to suspend thought, and just to be. I had to empty my mind of everything and just allow Doya to take over. She is not a thinking person, but a feeling person. It is all filmed in close-ups, so the face begins to haunt the viewer.

"Something once happened on set when we were filming in a studio in Calcutta. In a scene where the girl is sitting there, everybody worshipping her as Devi, a very old man came and prostrated himself before me. It was such a strange, eerie experience. I immediately understood how Doya must be feeling.

"To accept it all as real(istic) you have to understand nineteenth century Bengal. Patriarchy was paramount. Orthodoxy and superstition were also very deeply entrenched. At the same time though, rationalism was just beginning to raise its head, but it was too timid to confront the strong orthodoxy: the father was the head of the family. Nobody could question him. ("Please your father and you please the gods", remarks the brother in law.)

"All Ray's films are culturally specific, and yet they have a timeless quality. You can watch Devi in any era and relate to it, depending on your own experience and your own evolution. I watch the film now and still see things I missed then.

"I would say that it is one my best performances. It was a complex role to play, a challenge. It definitely remains my favourite film."

Bombón: El Perro (2004)

All is for the best and the best of all possible worlds (Voltaire, Candide)

[10 October 2008]

Villegas creeps among the bricks in search of Bombón; we sense that the film is nearing its end, and that this is a climactic scene... I found the comical outcome to this scene rather corny, and quite uncharacteristic of the rest of the film, even though its overall mood is one of comic lightness in the face of potential tragedy.

Having said this, our discovery that Bombón has hidden among the bricks just to mate in private - rather than to nurse an injury suffered from maltreatment - at least restores our faith in Walter Donado: he may not be exploitative of Villegas and the dog after all, even though our suspicions have been aroused when we hear that Walter is 'nunca en casa' (never at home), and that the dog has 'escapado'.

I agree with Writers_Reign's observant comment that the film has signs of Voltaire: Candide is set in El Dorado, a mythical South American land. Most situations in that fantastical tale have happy outcomes, as 'All is for the best and the best of all possible worlds.' Sorin might have had this phrase in mind when making El Perro.

The relationships between the characters doesn't seem to be the main drive of the film, although the viewer is endeared to each and everybody, including the dog. Whilst Villegas grows attached to Bombón, he also places a lot of hope in Walter and the dog shows. When these are dashed, we ultimately discover that such hopes are just ways for him to occupy his retired boredom. Villegas will move on from Walter and the shows, just as he has moved on from his hobby of selling knife handles.

The understated, heart-warming feel of this film reminded me of another powerful Argentinian piece, El Cielito.

Little Sky (2004)

El poder visual / Visual power

[2 June 2008]

The ongoing menace of political and economic turbulence in Argentina, although it of course affects daily life for every Argentinian citizen, does not play a noticeable role in this film, which focuses upon the loneliness of the main characters and the seclusion of the setting.

The isolated, dust-blown house is where much of the action takes place. It is made to look archetypal: such a tragic humanistic scenario as we see unfold could believably happen in any part of the world. (The only mention of a place-name is when Felix mutters his hometown, Paranà.)

Powerful visual elements are contrasted with careful use of sound, to superb effect. For example, scant dialogue forces the viewer to observe the characters' behaviour especially attentively: the less the characters say, the more closely we are forced to read into body language, gestures, and facial expressions. This aspect of El Cielito is reminiscent of Iranian and Afghan cinema. I also think that the film could be very well adapted to the stage.

Yet more incisive use of sight and sound comes in the evocative still shots of buildings and landscapes (both from afar and close up), complemented by minimal use of music and sound effects. It gives the film a pared-down, uncluttered feel, this further strengthened by the humanistic linear plot - and its woeful, sobering end.

Boredom will no doubt be inspired in some viewers; hopefully awe and emotion in others.

Lezate divanegi (2003)

"Don't say no! Don't doubt!"

[8 January 2007]

"All I have done is to show the pain which belongs to the Afghan people, not mine." - Hana Makhmalbaf

Joy of Madness gives a fascinating insight into the Makhmalbaf Film House's methods of casting. We see the efforts that the film crew go to towards seeking out everyday citizens in Kabul who suit the character roles envisaged by Samira for her film At Five in the Afternoon.

The documentary's coup de force is it's modest exposure of a common and deep-seated fear and distrust which emerges in each of Samira's interviewees. Suspicion and uncertainty permeate every level of post-Taleban society, ultimately over-powering any enthusiasm the potential actors have for being part of the project. The tyranny of Taleban rule has shattered their self-confidence and rational thinking: the Mullah goes back on his word, suddenly fearing for his reputation, whilst the gypsy father is paranoid that neighbours will spit on him for letting his ill child be "filmed out of poverty".

Hana Makhmalbaf was only fourteen when she filmed Joy of Madness; in the Tartan DVD leaflet, Tom Dawson suggests that "...she was able to take advantage of her gender and diminutive stature during the shoot, sometimes dismissed as a child playing about with a toy." Some very poignant moments are certainly captured by the film, such as the periods of silence in the minibus as the wary school teacher dreams up excuses to acquit her from Samira's daunting insistence, or the zoomed-in close-ups of the striking faces of Agheleh, the mullah, and others.

Samira is recognised as a ground-breaking filmmaker, flourishing in her father's footsteps and flying the flag for the Makhmalbaf Film House. I have been very impressed by her films At Five in the Afternoon, The Apple, and Blackboards. However, I think that Joy of Madness does not portray her in a good light as such a "volatile, demanding and relentlessly determined figure" (-Tom Dawson). Her vision and determination over-power any tenderness, and this proves immensely disconcerting to her subjects, who, after five years of barbaric Taleban rule, are understandably suspicious of her ambitious promises and subsequent demands of "Don't say no! Don't doubt!". Her desperately pressing approach is nearly enough to scare off Agheleh, the eventual protagonist of the film: it is father Mohsen who actually persuades Agheleh and presents her with a contract, all of which he does in a much more calm and measured fashion than his assertive daughter. Perhaps he is a more influential part of his daughters' film-making careers than we would like to believe?

Samira, with the support of the rest of the crew, confuse the mullah and school teacher by flashing big ideas in front of them, promising letters from the Minister of Education, and promising that the film will be shown in many other countries. Each individual is visibly flattered at having been chosen, and although they like the idea of appearing in a film, they are all alike in their fear of becoming too well known - a social climate no doubt sewn by the Taleban. I can't help feeling that if they had played down the scale and impact of the film - or perhaps if Mohsen had done more of the talking - that the Makhmalbaf crew would have more likely won the trust of the mullah, the teacher, and perhaps other un-tapped potential not shown in this documentary.

This said, At Five in the Afternoon is a powerful and ground-breaking work of great political importance, even though Samira herself has admitted that Hana's Joy of Madness gives the more realistic portrait of contemporary Afghan (or at least Kabuli) society.

The Silences of the Palace (1994)

The silenced women of the palace

[4 January 2007]

-THE WOMAN SERVANTS

The women working in the palace of the last Bey are united in their situation. Their main duty being the upkeep of the house and the preparation of meals, they also serve as sexual servants to the princes. From the outside, then, the palace is a revered place of grandeur and importance; on the inside, however, we see a harem of clandestine activity and unspoken shame. These are the 'silences' referred to in the film's title.

We get a good impression of the women's tiring and monotonous work maintaining the palace, although Tlatli also places considerable focus upon their role as sexual servants, as it is so destructive to the morale of the women, robbing them of identity and self-worth. The servants are cut off from the outside world and therefore unable to improve their situation - we hear how one servant's cousin came to visit her at the palace but was turned away. The women are prisoners of the palace, having no life beyond its walls.

-THE NATIONALIST MOVEMENT AND ITS EFFECT ON THE SERVANTS

The film is set at a time of great political and social uncertainty. Tunisian independence is imminent, and a quick transfer of authority from the French to the Tunisian government - as happened in some other Maghreb countries - will undoubtedly lead to sudden and drastic changes in Tunisian society.

The women of the palace listen to news bulletins about the nationalist movement whenever they can. On one hand, they do not feel directly affected by it due to their insular existence within the palace walls: their detached world within the palace gives them a sense of security, just like long-serving prison inmates. On the other hand, the nationalist movement carries optimism for the women: it is the only source of hope for eventual liberation from their pitiful situation. With no legal status or identity, the servants are not even recognised members of society.

-KHADIJA AND ALIA

We see numerous examples of the frustration and despair that the women suffer throughout the film. Khadija, Alia's mother, has lived and worked as a servant to the Beys - and as a sexual slave to Sidi Ali - for her whole life. She cannot leave as she has nowhere else to go. She places all her hopes for the future in her daughter. As Alia grows up, Khadija fears for her daughter's safety against the sexual desires of her masters. She is desperate for Alia to avoid the suffering that she has lived with, and therefore nourishes her daughter's ability and enthusiasm for music, in the hope of liberating Alia. Khadija puts her small earnings towards the purchase of a lute.

Alia has an independent spirit, which most clearly manifests itself in her love for singing and playing the lute. We are made to feel optimistic for Alia as she grows up. She develops hope in the nationalist movement through her teacher (and later her lover) Lotfi. Unlike her mother before her, Alia has a belief that she must withstand the pressures imposed upon her by her situation in the palace. Her personal struggle is, however, ultimately tragic: we see her at the end having lost confidence in her music and in herself, due in part to her tragic miscarriage.

Portraying the women of the palace as she does - and particularly through the character of Alia - Tlatli draws upon a need for Tunisian women to come to terms with the pains of the past. By constructing a scenario whereby Alia relives the painful memories of her childhood by revisiting Khalti Hadda and the deserted palace, Tlatli underlines the repression that women suffer. Without coming to terms with their personal trauma and tragedy, Tunisian women cannot improve their status, despite the nation's independence and political stability.

Bezness (1992)

The effects of tourism upon culture in the Tunisian Sousse

[2 January 2007]

The word 'Bezness' is an alternative spelling of the Franglais word 'business'; in North Africa it refers to the setting up of a small enterprise from no initial capital. As an activity, 'bezness' is a means for young Maghrebi men to make money where they might otherwise be unemployed. As a type of person, 'les bezness' are the boys themselves, who (like Rufa) act as gigolos to tourists, often disregarding age and sexual orientation.

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The film calls the viewer to consider the phenomenon of tourism and its consequences. Relatively undeveloped until the 1960s, Tunisia's Sousse region has seen a rapid growth of tourism since this time. As a knock-on effect, local culture has grown to cater for the demands of the tourist industry.

Bouzid's main objective is to show the depths to which tourism exerts its influences on contemporary Tunisian society. His recognition of the multi-faceted and complicated nature of tourism is clearly reflected in the film's characterisation and setting. To expand: we are shown both the European-style resorts where Rufa and the other 'bezness' prowl, as well as the independent traveller - Fred - in his independent quest to 'dévoiler' (unveil) the secret behind the life of local people in the old town. The two contrasting worlds meet when Fred's insensitive camera-poking causes him to have it confiscated several times: he relies on (and pays) Rufa to get him out of such awkward situations.

Ostensibly, Fred's attitude towards his surroundings appears to be more positive than the cultural ignorance of the average package tourist. Independent travellers like Fred at least have a desire to gain a degree of understanding of the local people and the culture. However, Bouzid rejects this assumption by showing us that ultimately, Fred's actions are as destructive to the local people as is mass-tourism.

Bouzid says of Fred's character: "I would like spectators to be tricked into identifying with unflattering characters. This was the case in 'Bezness'. They (Western viewers) saw themselves in an image that was not at all flattering, but which they were forced to like because it was touching. They caught themselves liking a character they would despise in real life."

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The emerging self-doubt of the three main characters becomes apparent when we see them alone, experiencing self-doubt or searching for some kind of salvation. Examples of this are the scenes of Rufa alone on the beach, Khomsa contemplating herself in the mirror, and Fred's soul-searching voice-over. The opening lines of the film, uttered by Rufa's younger brother - "Tu es perdu?" (Are you lost?) - become symbolic in retrospect when we see that all three characters are ultimately 'lost'.

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The notion that 'bezness' is a "revenge against the poverty that is all around", as El-Kehel tells Fred, fails to mask the fact that the gigolos are simply pawns in the tourist machine. As Rufa himself says, "We sell part of a dream". Rufa justifies his activities to himself and to Khomsa in material terms: "I have a family to look after ... We are too broke to be in love". Such statements cause his conservative family values to clash with the sexual permissiveness of his lifestyle. Rufa leads a double life and tries desperately to keep separate these two opposing environments. However, the freedom with which he moves between them weighs increasingly heavily on his conscience and causes his self-esteem to plummet, leading him to despair; he becomes a "foreigner in his own country". His apparent confidence and strength of character ultimately prove a myth.

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Like Rufa, Khomsa becomes increasingly disillusioned with her situation. She is strong-willed and has an independent spirit. She loves Rufa deeply but is not prepared to suffer in silence as he seduces untold numbers of foreign women. She laments her lack of freedom and power - "All my life, doomed to silence". Her entanglement with Fred leads to further confusion and instability, to the point that she tries to cleanse herself through entrancement at the 'reHba' ritual. We are forced to speculate over the extent to which her situation has been manipulated by the presence of tourism (both from meeting Fred and from seeing Rufa's immoral behaviour), contrasting with the repressions of her freedom by traditional family constraints.

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The viewer cannot ignore the juxtaposition of modernity and tradition, visibly apparent throughout the film: horse-drawn carts share the roads with cars and buses, and traditional Islamic architecture in the old town (such as zeliij tiling) is intermingled with the vistas of blocky tourist hotels. The most provocative shot in the film - which was surely influential in its censorship subsequent to release - shows a fully veiled woman strip down to a bikini. Bouzid highlights clearly the stark contrast - and coexistence - of Islamic tradition and Western permissiveness.

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'Bezness' carries an important message regarding the problems that arise from the rapid growth of tourism in regions like the Tunisian Sousse. The following statement from Mathieson & Wall (1982) is a noteworthy observation of tourism's long-term effects: 'It is ironic that the destinations with the most to gain from tourism, particularly developing countries, also appear to be the most vulnerable to its undesirable consequences ... The future of tourism is paradoxical because tourists are destroying the very resources that they come to enjoy.'

Room to Rent (2000)

Cringeworthy

[2 January 2007]

I find myself disagreeing with other comments, having discovered this film to be ridiculous and cringe-worthy.

It painted an absurd picture of London, the plot revealing abyss after gaping abyss. The laughably bad acting, combined with sudden and predictable jumps in the plot, almost led me to turn off the television at several points.

I can't believe that Taghmaoui is the same lad who was so well cast, and shone, in La Haine. If he's supposed to be Egyptian, why the strong French accent? I have seen Clémentine Célarié in Lawless Heart, and in this film she confirmed herself to me as a crummy actress.

I am aghast that this film was ever released, finding it as foolishly clumsy as Ali and Ahmed's shots at the snooker table.

American Citizen (1992)

Ashdod loves Pizza Hut

[22 October 2006]

An Israeli film by name; however, the focus on basketball and the style of characterisation suggest that it was made to the American TV-film format. It might as well be an American film set in Israel, given the focus and camera time given to both Garner (as Michael) and the name of a certain multi-national pizza establishment. I know nothing about the 'Encouragement Fund for Quality Israeli Movies' but would not be surprised if it was a US-backed initiative.

This said, the subtle and understated character development of Joel is touching. He develops a strong admiration for Michael. (We are only made fully aware of this by Joel's sister Rachel telling Michael so.) I wonder if the film maker intended for Joel's affection for Michael to reflect Israel's attitude towards the USA? Probably not, though it might be interpreted this way.

It is staggering how quickly cinema ages. The interiors, haircuts, clothing, and cars of the 1990s look dated now.

The high-paced, hand-held photography of the basketball matches is excellent, as is the acting of stumpy crook Amnon.

The Idiots (1998)

Lars mate, why ?!

[21 May 2005]

Of the numerous IMDb comments on this film, there is not a single one that talks positively of the explicit pornographic scene. There is a lot that is hard-hitting and powerful about Idioterne, particularly the portrayal of characters such as Stoffer, Jeppe and the powerful final scene with pathetic Karen

But it seems that Von Trier has really done his credibility no good at all by choosing to include such graphic pornographic shots. Whether or not the viewer finds it shocking, can anybody seriously claim that the graphic scenes add anything to the film? The most likely explanation could be that Von Trier wanted to cause a stir and gain recognition, and showing such scenes was a surefire way of doing so. I am reminded of Larry King, writer-director of Bully, Kids, and Ken Park, whose fame is almost entirely indebted to the gratuitously sexual and violent content of his films.

Few genres of cinema around the world would show such explicit scenes as we see in Idioterne; it could make some Europeans ashamed. There are of course more subtle ways of being hard-hitting. Von Trier displays some of them here, that is what is so ironic, and what makes the pornography so unnecessary ! Lars, why did you do it? You've risked tarring a film so powerful in other respects !

Shadow of the Earth (1982)

Silence reigns

[28 January 2005]

This film reminds me of Iranian cinema. Not only does it have a slow pace and a simple storyline (as do many Iranian films), but also, much of the communication between characters occurs as much through looks and gestures as via spoken words. In this way the director - perhaps unwittingly - conveys the unsurmountable silence and emptiness of the monontonous, semi-arid hámada landscape.

As the end credits roll the shot is frozen on the coffin dangling from the crane. The music finishes and the rest of the credits roll in silence. This has a moving effect, as we are reminded of the inevitability of silence.

The film has a striking simplicity which is missing from Leyla ma Raison - a more recent piece of Tunisian cinema full of slow-moving desert panoramas, also with scant dialogue. Shadow of the Earth seems gritty and realistic, whilst Leyla ma Raison is over-romantic and self-indulged. The latter belongs to the era of Arabian Nights and Prince-of-Persia style fantasy.

To viewers who enjoyed this film I would recommend The Citadel (Algeria), Reed Dolls (Morocco) and La Plage Des Enfants Perdus (Morocco).

Dry Cleaning (1997)

Fire under ice

[8 November 2004]

Nettoyage a sec (Dry Cleaning) : a good choice of film title for starters. The initial image created by such a title is one of cleanliness, order and routine. In light of the closing scene though, a double-entendre can be detected : Nicole and Jean-Marie will certainly have their work cut out for them cleaning blood from their clothes and from their hands ...

The well-paced plot allows for good character development, and Berhing, Miou-Miou and Merhar do it fantastically.

The middle-aged couple, who have reached a stagnated period in their relationship, seek new direction. Nicole is bored and uninspired, she wants a change from the monotony of running the shop. Jean-Marie is "a very uptight man" according to Marilyn, Loic's sister. His homosexual awakening is a great personal struggle for him, his self-doubt beginning in the hotel scene when Loic is so rude to him.

The couple's major flaw is an inability for their own introspection and thus for the damage they can cause. The repercussions of their ignorance become dangerous because they allow themselves "to be driven, not necessarily by a fault of their own, to a point of no return" (-Anne Fontaine, director).

From the moment that Loic and Marilyn meet Nicole and Jean-Marie, they take full advantage of the latter's uncertainty, both materially and sexually. Loic is not an evil spirit who planned all along to sew disorder. He is an intuitive and laid-back character whose pitiful situation - no family background and therefore no direction in his life - lead him to great negativity, and on the surface he presents a cold and uncaring personality. He is independent and self-centred because, apart from his sister, whom he protects aggressively, he has never had to look after anyone but himself.

In terms of the film's characterisation, the only real fault i noticed was an absence of relationship between Nicole and her son Pierre. They share only one affectionate exchange throughout the whole film; the boy's role has little (if any) importance at all.

The final shot of the film : having disposed of Loic in the laundry shoot, we see the couple walking together into the dusk. For the first time, Jean-Marie has an apparent expression of liberation on his face. If their relationship with Loic has brought them closer as a couple, we could conclude that their uncontrolled downward slide into such a dark, frightening world was not altogether futile.

My Summer of Love (2004)

What is love ? Baby don't hurt me, no more

[6 November 2004]

In retrospect it is easy to say to oneself, "Oh yeah it was always going to happen like that ". In reference to Tamsin and Mona's emotional and sexual adventure though, director Pawlikowsky drops numerous flagrant hints as to the direction that the relationship will take.

Take for example they way in which the girls exchange long glances over Tamsin's singing cello, and how Mona observes Tamsin's able fingers and her bare foot lifting from the floorboard. Even on their first meeting, neither Mona's shyness nor# Tamsin's feigned indifference and middle class air (+ her higher physical position on the horse - a subtle touch), neither of these behaviours can hide the immediate connection between the girls : their equally isolated situations will bring them together.

I think that a more attentive observation to the girls personal presentation as an indicator of social class would have made the story yet more believable. Tamsin was often made to look 'classless', with loose hair, sexy short dresses and large hoop earrings. Meanwhile Mona did not seem to present herself as neatly as somebody of her class might do, particularly in terms of her oft unkempt hair. Why was it not tied back tight ? Where were HER hoop earrings ? Why was she always wearing a cotton tracksuit and never a nylon shellsuit ? Perhaps the costume designer and the director feared that more accentuated representations via the girls' dressing style would have made their exchange of worlds impossible for the viewer to comprehend, they just would have been TOO different.

These may seem strange observations to pick up on, but in such a class-based and image-conscious society as Britain 2004, such things should be considered. (One more thing : a working class girl from a small Yorkshire mining town somehow learnt to move very naturally to salsa music somewhere along the line : possible but not that credible).

Clothing aside, the superb acting was the coup de maitre of the film. Fantastic casting reminded me of the understated British film Secrets and Lies (Mike Leigh, mid-1990s). The jewel in the crown being Paddy Considine. He portrayed excellently the trauma of his slide from devout Christianity back into his fractured and deplorable world of before.

I would disagree with another viewer comment that we are left with a final impression of each of the girls coming out of their experience as stronger people : as Mona walks away at the end, what has she got to look forward to ?

Should we hate Tamsin for the way she plays with Mona's feelings ? Or should we pity her for the way that problems in her life (such as her father's affair) are muffled under layers of apparent security that accompany her middle class upbringing : money, private school education, a 'family life', etc.? In the long term, these factors are only obstacles to addressing the problems of unfulfilling human relationships, in whichever class of society they are found.

Our Father (2002)

Never seen the sea ?

[14 October 2004]

It seems that the prevailing theme of this film is one of INDIRECT COMMUNICATION.

The communication between the characters of the film happens more through gestures and body language than via dialogue. The simple, uncluttered script is littered with imperative commands (usually dispensed by adults), unanswered questions (from both adults and children) and discourse that is open to interpretation. This is of course seen most clearly in the interactions of the older brother and the deaf-mute girl. Words are not needed when so much as a look or a gentle stroke of the cheek can convey so much, and so poignantly.

So many of Amine's questions go unanswered that his situation becomes desperate, and this is manifested in a psychosematic / trauma-induced asthma condition and eventually in his demise.

The slow camera-pans past the many striking faces of the dusty Chadian boys is an image to stay with the viewer long after the film. It may remind the viewer of the Portrait photograph series by Steve McCurry.

If you have never seen the sea, you cannot know what it is like

If you are used to seeing the sea, it is hard to know what NEVER having seen the sea must be like !

The film Tilai (1990) from Burkina is also recommended to keen viewers of African films.

Le territoire des autres (1970)

Do take the time

[1 October 2004]

A film requiring concentration, patience, and a love of birds.

Let's forget The Bear and Jonathan Livingstone Seagull: this is how many people love to see nature documented.

A visually striking piece, so understated that you may well take comfort when you realise that you will not hear any over-dubbed human voice - an unnecessary feature of Winged Migration.

The final images of the film, showing birds in the wake of an oil spill, are enough to make us all feel guilty that humans have evolved as the dominant species on Earth.

Mother Nature, soon you will make us sorry !

The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973)

Alf Leila wa Leila (1001 nights)

[4 December 2003]

It's entertainment for entertainment's sake but perhaps best taken with a pinch of salt.

For more authentic Arabian Nights entertainment, read a few stories from one of the many English translations of the book (Burton 1880s or Husein Hadawy's 1990s have excellent translations of Sinbad's voyages)

Happy reading!