Screen Fanatic

follow this blog

60 followers

262 daily readers

rank of 22

E-mail Subscription

Receive an e-mail notification of new posts on this site:

Spotlight Posts

This Must Be the Place

Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

[ more ]

The Dictator

May 16th 2012 04:35

Nothing in The Dictator convinces me that Sacha Baron Cohen’s Borat will be displaced as his most infamous creation, but with his latest he’s gone a long way, at least, to erasing the unwanted memory of Bruno (2009). Cohen’s Admiral General Aladeen is another flavourful creation - the ruthless but dim-witted leader of the Republic of Wadiya who decides a trip to America to speak before the United Nations to confront the hatred directed towards his tyrannical dictatorship. Meanwhile, his second-in-charge, Tamir (Ben Kingsley), is hatching a nefarious plan to have Aladeen squeezed out of the equation and replaced by a moronic lookalike whose strings he can play like a puppeteer.

Naturally, Aladeen, shorn of his most recognisable feature - his distinctive beard - avoids death and is anonymously expelled into the metropolis of New York where he finds work with an organic market whose owner, Zoey (Anna Faris) he eventually takes a shine too despite heaping a litany of insults upon her for much of the film. With the help of a sympathiser he hatches a revenge plan which includes dispatching Tamir, his double and preventing his country from becoming a full-blown democracy.

Digging deep into his bag of politically incorrect asides Cohen takes aim at minorities and good taste, yet there’s nothing overtly vicious about his satire – at least it surely won't seem that way to ruthlessly desensitised modern audiences. Amidst the smattering of jokes that fall flat are some undoubtedly hilarious standout moments: a cringe worthy sex scene in which some unexpected body parts are lovingly attended to by tongue; Aladeen and Zoey sharing a tender moment with their hands jammed inside a pregnant woman; some fun and games in the bedroom and shower with a severed head; Aladeen being instructed in how to pleasure himself for the first time by Zoey; and a contrived but funny misunderstanding aboard a helicopter as a couple of tourists misinterpret a conversation between Aladeen and his countryman.

The truth is that crudeness is hard to resist - especially when it’s this uproarious. Cohen and his co-writers are apt to offend members of society with unnaturally thin hides but nobody will be venturing into the cinema with blinkers on when it comes to The Dictator (2012). The film delivers the requisite strikes upon the funny bone even if its batting average isn’t particularly high. Even at 83 minutes there’s padding here but who cares? I laughed hard and often, and so will you.

Vote

Add Comments

[ Link ]

Posted By: David O'Connell - Category: No Category

Email this Post to a Friend

Summer with Monika

May 11th 2012 03:27

Like a precursor, in miniature, to Ingmar Bergman’s own Scenes from a Marriage (1973), the great Swedish director’s much earlier effort, Summer with Monika (1953), charts the ebbs and flows of a relationship – one struck up between two teens desperate to slip the constraints of their domestic lives but far too psychologically immature to handle the realities of life once the 'honeymoon' period – the vaunted season of the title – comes to a hollow end.

A chance encounter in a bar between 17 year old grocery store worker, Monika Eriksson (Harriet Andersson), and 19 year old glassware delivery boy, Harry (Lars Ekborg), will set them on the path to romance. It's an entanglement that will eventually unravel as the young couple struggles to find their own identities and deal with the unbearably adult expectations of becoming parents.

Neither requires much motivation to bail out of their oppressive lives: Monika is the subject of ridicule at home where neighbours taunt her; at work it’s even worse where she’s relentlessly objectified by her boss who constantly gropes her. For Harry, life is equally dreary; he’s derided by his superiors for a lack of punctuality and work ethic, and lives with a father whose muteness causes him to retreat in a world dominated by his own thoughts.

The pair dream of rebelling against the constraints of their economically depressed statuses, trapped under the thumb of superiors whom they must bow down to just to survive. The freedom of escape – even the contemplation of it – is intoxicating. Together they progress into the realm of a fairy-tale with boundaries limited only by their imaginations. They drift away from Stockholm onto a distant shore on Harry’s father’s boat, setting up base by the water’s edge with little evidence of civilisation around.

Fascinatingly, our long-term perception of Harry hardly wavers: we forgive him his weakness initially and rally to his side later as he refuses to deny domestic obligations; conversely, Monika undergoes a marked change, morphing from angel to harridan. The more submissive Harry is vulnerable to the whirlwind that is Monika from the moment they meet. Drawn in to the web of her infectious enthusiasm for simple joy and the effortless physicality she exerts, he’s a classically doomed protagonist, soon to be mired into the deceits of naivety once the glorious summer of perfection shatters, as it must.

Andersson, who would be crucial to the success of numerous Bergman masterworks to follow, exudes a striking mixture of vulnerability and raw sexual energy. Monika is impetuous, free spirited and oozing raw, undefined sensuality – qualities best summed up in one brilliant close-up in which Gunnar Fischer’s camera edges closer whilst simultaneously eliminating external sources of light, leaving Monika’s direct gaze as if in a spotlight.

Even as Bergman was honing his craft his mastery over the most clichéd dramatic subject matter ensures a freshness of vision, here working alongside co-writer Per Anders Fogelstrom. With two simple, naïve protagonists unable to provide illuminating depth through dialogue, it’s up to Bergman as overseer to provide the articulation that allows us to empathise with one and then the other. Summer with Monika, which grows increasingly dark as it progresses, is a significant work in the director’s canon; one that appears to lack narrative depth when taken at face value, but is solidified by innate cinematic sensibilities.

The final moments are beautifully handled: a bubble of short-term nostalgia pricked by a pained melancholy as a luscious, provocative summer scene - vanquished by a new sense of responsibility for Harry - is finally exorcised.

I've also reviewed these Bergman films:

Shame (1968)
Autumn Sonata (1978)
Brink of Life (1958)
From the Life of the Marionettes (1980)
The Magician (1958)
The Rite (1969)
It Rains On Our Love (1946)

Vote

Add Comments

[ Link ]

Posted By: David O'Connell - Category: No Category

Email this Post to a Friend

Café de Flore

May 3rd 2012 05:51

Filled to the brim with arresting imagery, technical brilliance and a love triangle that transcends time and space, Jean-Marc Vallee’s Café De Flore comes awfully close to perfection. Designed to maximise sensory overload, Vallee very effectively layers music and sound effects into the slipstream of his pair of meticulously interwoven narrative strands.

In Paris in the 1960's, a single mother, Jacqueline (Vanessa Paradis), is raising a young son, Laurent (Marin Gerrier), afflicted with Down Syndrome. Though life is far from easy, they share a powerful bond – one that’s put to the acid test when Laurent becomes unnaturally, irrationally attached to a new classmate, Veronique (Alice Dubois).

Though Antoine (Kevin Parent), in modern day Montreal, has begun a relationship with Rose (Evelyne Brochu), a genuine tenderness still exists for his ex-wife Carole (Helene Florent). Inevitably their relationship is hurtful to Antoine and Carole’s two children and parents who see the seismic shift in domestic balance as the betrayal of a feted union.

Though she deals with her husband’s defection with great dignity, Carole is forced to battle demons. She’s both haunted by the departure of her soul-mate and recurring dreams of a young boy. Could this ambiguously disturbing figure of her nightmares be that of Laurent and if so, what are the implications?

As a detached observer, only we, the audience, can hope to connect the strands of Vallee’s ambitious, elliptical inferences through which lives are mystically linked. Carole's consultation with a medium does however provide a clever outlet to further question paranormal themes. Vallee’s queries are broad, universal but insolvable ones; his story puts as much faith in the intangibles of life as we're expected to possess to go along for the ride. But if you're able do just that, there's a very real chance you’ll become as entranced as I was.

Visually Café de Flore (2011) is stunning, becoming an almost impressionistic collage of impressions and memories that will leave you spellbound. It’s strewn with dazzling imagery, from its most integral scenes to the slightest, momentary set-ups. Vallee’s eagle eye for detail and the idiosyncratic viewpoints he adopts for each glimmer of these far-off but somehow parallel worlds is breathtaking.