Artimidor Reviews

Cría Cuervos (1976)

Porqué te vas?

[10/10 · 26 June 2021]

"Why, why, why... are you leaving?" Why, indeed? A simple, though irresolvable question for anyone in the wake of a harrowing death of a loved one. Even more so for a coming-of-age eight-year-old bereft of a mother, her only anchor in a world reigned by fascist ideology. In Francoist Spain women are either breeders, servants, lovers or an interchangeable combination thereof. Individuality is unwelcome, and it is certainly not female. Little Ana, emotionally stunted, trapped in her tiny world, doesn't understand any of the bigger picture. Her only enjoyment stems from dancing to Jeanette's "Porqué te vas?", a catchy tune about love and loss, and it's on repeat. Forlorn, forsaken, cloistered in a home behind a fence next to the town's thoroughfare, the little mind keeps wandering, though. Past, future, and fantasies weave in and out, tinged by shadows growing ever darker. "You want to die?" Ana asks her grandma when she witnesses her fading memory. Her squeaky voice is innocent, but firm. "Because... I can help!" she adds. And there you have it: an answer. A little girl's answer, flawed maybe, rash, and yet well-meant, regardless. There's nothing after death, absolutely nothing, she is being told, but what then is left for an eight-year-old than to simply accept the transience of... a pet guinea pig... a mother... and her own life?

"Cría Cuervos" is part of an illustrious tradition exploring adult themes through the eyes of children, a precursor to more recent approaches like "Malèna" (Giuseppe Tornatore, 2000), "Pan's Labyrinth" (Guillermo del Toro, 2006), or a whole slew of movies made by Iranian New Wave directors - to name just a few. They all have in common that they are as political as existential, and the exceptional ones often draw from the fact that they were made in spite or precisely because of a regime trying to gag anyone voicing opposition. They make no compromises. "Cría Cuervos", at the time it was made, was one of those films. As was Victor Erice's no less seminal "The Spirit of the Beehive" (1973) by the way, starring an even younger Ana Torrent in the lead. In both films, little Ana plays little Ana - art mirroring life in Spain, and vice versa, for a reason.

In 1975, the year "Cría Cuervos" hit the cinemas, General Franco died. With him went his dictatorship, the repression, and, eventually, a national movement. But chasm-deep scars remained, and the bloodshed wasn't over, not by a long shot. The death of a father figure also opens "Cría Cuervos", seen through the helpless eyes of a kid. Its title, "Cría cuervos (y te sacarán los ojos)" reminds us of the adage "Raise ravens, and they'll gouge your eyes out." The well was poisoned a long time ago, and the country's children are adrift. Life after paradise lost. Spain... work in progress.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

One of film history's brightest stars

[10/10 · 30 May 2021]

In hypothetical 2001 auteur-duo Stanley Kubrick and sci-fi master Arthur C. Clarke take us on a unique journey into the unknown, leading us far out into the vast reaches of space, where man is all alone with himself. Or is he? For an ominous artifact excavated on Earth's single natural satellite, the moon, seems to suggest otherwise. The enigma of the monolith beckons - and points further out there. What hides behind the glassy slab composed of the inkiest blackness imaginable? Is the monolith a relic from a long-lost cosmic culture? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it serves as a sentinel, an extraterrestrial guardian to evaluate intelligent life, an alien yardstick to measure civilization, to supervise its genesis and progress. Or is it closer to a teacher, providing man with the missing link to what lies beyond, a rung to hold on to, so that a sometimes floundering race may evolve beyond? Have we come across a gateway to a first encounter, to - who could know? - even something... divine? - Questions abound: Who created this inscrutable object? And why, after so many years of resting buried, has it been activated, signaling... where to? The answer might transcend comprehension and thus mankind as we know it. We have arrived in hypothetical 2001, the year when everything is about to change.

Ambiguity is not "2001's" liability, but its forte. It is the main and heady ingredient Kubrick allowed to dominate Clarke's potent sci-fi cocktail of ultimate questions. Whereas the grand mysteries of life's origin and destiny are gradually diminished in Clarke's accompanying novel and even more so in the three succeeding books, Kubrick opts for a pure philosophical angle, studding it with iconic imagery. Ultimately, the viewer is left with facing the sublime alone; dropped right into the majesty that is the universe, on his way towards infinity. Visuals reign. Visuals supplemented by such diverse, seemingly contradictory soundscapes as György Ligeti's eerie "Requiem", Richard Strauss's epic "Thus Spoke Zarathustra", Johann Strauss's unforgettable "Blue Danube" waltz, and the sheer intensity of universe-wide eternal silence.

Almost unfathomable that we have to remind ourselves that Kubrick put this masterpiece on celluloid based on pre-moon landing data. So accurate is his dedication to scientific accuracy that the conspiracy theories about him having staged the actual moon landing haven't let up till this day. Then again, how disappointing that post-Kubrick filmmakers have mostly given up on taking a leaf out of his book where space is married with science in supreme beauty; instead, they deliver lackadaisical CGI-infested crowd-pleasing imitations and, if they have to say something at all, they drench them in pseudo-intellectualism. Looking back, one has to grant at least the follow-up to the mother of all space operas, "2010: The Year We Make Contact" (Peter Hyams/Arthur C. Clarke), that it is not a bad film. And yet, for what it's worth, it already looked dated upon conception. While full of monoliths, it lacks all things Kubrick, which condemns it to a mere footnote to the seminal original. "2001" is more than a movie. It's an epiphany. Mankind's third millennium starts with "2001", date and film, and with good reason.

Peppermint Candy (1999)

Going back... to a future

[9/10 · 7 April 2021]

A middle-aged man stumbles onto a picnic at the riverside. His face is recognized by the group as an acquaintance from twenty-odd years ago and the inital reserve turns to amity and embraces - and then back again, veering quickly towards alienation. For soon it becomes apparent that the guy isn't quite what he once used to be, whatever that was. Someone has to wrestle a mic from the newcomer's hand when a karaoke song gets out of hand, and eventually he's left to himself again, to the stranger that he is, to others, and himself. He plunges into the nearby river, thrashes about, screaming gibberish and, minutes later, climbs up a railroad bridge, where an incoming train ploughs over him.

The end? Yes. And a beginning. Chang-dong Lee's "Peppermint Candy" (1999) has the distinction that it starts off with its protagonist's suicide and is poetic about it in reverse. A though feat. And yet, odd beauty shines through the inkiest black, turning ever brighter. Starting with the point of impact of the fate-sealing express train, we travel back down memory lane - back Yong Ho's journey, Harold Pinter-style, a technique used also in more commercial fare like Nolan's "Memento" or Gaspar Noé's grim "Irreversible". We head to where it all began, flashback by flashback, a few years at a time until the very beginning. Every time a piece of the onion is peeled away, each time another bit of the puzzle is added, or withdrawn, see it as you will. Something crystalizes in the process, connected by images of the deadly train receding from the present: a character, for one, and the mirror image of a sociopolitical environment that plagued the last decades of Korean history. A hardened lost soul thus transforms into a hapless, unformed teenager, ignorant that his innocence is about to be molded into a shape he won't be able to recognize anymore as his own.

Chang-dong Lee is better known for his critically acclaimed tour-de-force "Poetry" (2010), located somewhere in terra incognita between alzheimer and rape, and the thinking man's thriller "Burning" (2018) - both masterpieces in their own right. One might also remember his daring, yet most accessible "Oasis" (2002) about an ex-con who befriends a girl with cerebral palsy, though it's not exactly a rom-com either. But his early work already has all the hallmarks of the accolade-winning favorites of the critics, and elements that will recur later, one way or another. All these films are about characters, about life and death, love of course, and not a few involve violence, murder, or, as in this case, suicide. Traditional themes, perhaps. Strong ones, sure. Too dark on first glance to justify an ending on an upbeat note. But the poet in Chang-dong Lee more often than not brings it out regardless: the light at the heart of it all, in this case by consequently following the railtrack back into its tunnel where it came from, and go from there - arriving someplace beyond.

Holy Motors (2012)

Who were we when we were?

[10/10 · 8 March 2020]

'Lacks characterisation.' Simple as that. So a two-sentence one-star review summarizes Leos Carax' "Holy Motors" (2012) and concludes, after a collection of less poignant expletives, with a triumphant 'This is not a film!' Alas, we're not talking about a cross-reference to Jafar Panahi's eponymous effort of film-making which is in denial about its own existence. Still, there's a weird link between Panahi's and Carax's work, rest assured. Oddly enough, Panahi also made a film about someone going home, and things aren't exactly as they seem. Same in "Holy Motors", but even more subversive, and this time with wheels.

Fascinating, that damning review, raging about the lack of characterisation. On the other hand, one may arrive at the same assessment and give the whole thing top scores when seen through a postmodern lens. So let's, for argument's sake, prefer the latter. Existentialism rarely has such larger-than-life visuals. Like limousines roaming the streets of Paris. Or Kylie Minogue. Or an accordion intermission that may pass as serious contender for "Best Middle of the Film" since Monty Python. "Holy Motors" is a road movie about masks and acting, about the cinema as much as about life, and the underlying question: Who's driving? And: Where do we end up when it's time to go home?

At the prolog, French director and enfant terrible Leos Carax himself introduces us to this bizarre adventure. The foghorn stirs him from his slumber. Next thing we know, he sticks it to the Hollywood audience by ways of unlocking a Lynchian tapestry with his middle finger, only to stumble out into the unknown, trailed by a Toto-ish for-legged friend. It's not Oz, though. Quite the contrary. We've arrived in a cinema, where a blind, inert audience awaits. There are echoes to the grand silver screen masters of the absurd, grotesque and sublime - to Fellini, Franju, and Tarkovsky. The rest is, well, Denis Lavant. The protagonist actor we're supposed to follow. Our character, our guy. Or is it? Because herein lies the crux. After all, the chameleon-like performance does lack, indeed, the mentioned characterisation. Lavant is always in character, at his most versatile non-self as he can possibly be. He's never the person we think we know. Which strikes us as odd. Strange. And provocative. Ah, if only lives could talk! What would they have to say about their passengers? To find out, go for this joyride of the different kind. It's not Hollywood, certainly not. It's about what's holy, though, and a treat for any cineaste worth his salt. Also, for that matter, it's for anyone with a genuine interest in the ongoing (d)evolution of man in regards to their simian relatives. On that note: Trois! Douze! Merde! Amen.

Parasite (2019)

Parasite(s) and where to find them

[9/10 · 15 February 2020]

With "Parasite" Bong Joon Ho goes for another exercise of social commentary, not unlike his praised "The Host" (2006) - for those who cared for a monster movie dealing with social issues. It wasn't for everyone, though. Both films are 'so metaphorical' as "Parasite" protagonist Kim Ki-woo likes to put it. But different strokes for different people, no? Certainly, the metaphors aren't on vacation this time around, it's just that they learned to profess some subtlety. As back then, Bong pulls out all the stops in "Parasite," and while the former picture's literally Godzillish rendition matching its ambitions makes it borderline, the new approach is hard to skip. It takes on the shape of a pitch-dark comedy with coarse edges when it counts. One might as well let one's self get immersed in it, enjoy the ride and laugh along, relish its twists and turns before receiving a blow from left field. "Parasite" comes across as less pretentious, settles on the more down-to-earth (pun intended) side of things; it plants its seed with a much smaller dose of horror, is whimsical, ironic, even cynic at times; and it substitutes CGI for clever story-telling and cinematography measuring the highs and lows of the social ladder with visual precision. In short, ingredients for a less in-your-face, decisively creeping-up-on-you kind of comedy drama of caliber, falling into line with Bong's other early outstanding effort "Memories of Murder."

"Parasite" is an all-out visual genre mix of the first order, as much commentary about western society's underbelly and upper class as it is a ghost story drawing from a long Asian tradition. Things are in play that have always been lingering deep down underneath and come back to haunt us, metaphorically - and literally. In that sense the film is as much a thriller as it is fun stuff and dead serious drama, a bit like an attempt at squaring a circle, and yet it works.

"Parasite" is also the ultimate staircase film, to name just one striking image. This owes itself to the implied fairy-tale lore that at the end of the staircase - society's equivalent for the romantic rainbow - you'll find a pot of gold, right? It's just that stairs work in both directions, and climbing them up or down is less romantic. Bong Joon Ho makes staircase construction his art and builds them vicious circle-like. Consider this circle squared.

Still Walking (2008)

Something about walking: ahead, along and away

[9/10 · 30 December 2018]

The attempt to bring Yasujiro Ozu's "Tokyo Story" (1953) into a new millennium with all its cultural changes, technological updates and mounting family pitfalls is no small feat. And yet Hirokazu Koreeda, coming from such gems as "Maborosi" (1995) or "After Life" (1998), got the seeming impossible just right. By keeping it simple. By showing, and listening. While inspired by the master's work, with a nod here and there, the film eventually stands on its own and draws its own conclusions.

"Still Walking" is another film about family, a Koreeda speciality, shot from a neo-realistic angle with multi-dimensional characters one might find at like-minded western contemporaries offering slice-of-life cinema like Mike Leigh or Ken Loach. In the mix: the generation gap, false hopes and lost dreams, love, grief, resentment, birth discussed, death lingering - it's all part of this intimate portrayal of a middle class Japanese family ranging from innocent five-year olds to the grumpy patriarch. Life is complicated, as are people, and answers are difficult, and sometimes truth has to be ignored by the one or the other, for the sake of being able to cope.

Don't expect a big story here, rather bits and pieces, brought to the forefront by a director who steps back to let people unfold. There's no melodrama, no orchestral music to ensure eyes tearing up, no big stuff, no open confrontations, no surprising twist. This is about ordinary people, and how life goes on, one way or another. Koreeda observes in a subtle, understated, fly-on-the-wall kind of way, and despite or because of the unobtrusive eye of the beholder gets something deep and poignant across that is bigger than single events and, ultimately, bigger than us.

Still Game (2002–2019)

One Foot out of the Grave

[10/10 · 8 March 2017]

Back in the days NBC's "Golden Girls" pioneered in discovering a fresh comedic potential according to the premise: Pensioners are also entitled to some post-prime fun before a career-move that involves pushing up the daisies. Especially when they're operating from Miami, Florida, of course. Now picture this as good old Sophia would say: How about we give the whole retiree idea more edge, relocate the girls to Scotland (complete with heavy accent), change their gender and language to something way stronger and offensive (yet in its own way endearing), and replace the picturesque Miami-scenario with fictional "shitehole" Craiglang "somewhere near Glasgow" with prospects being hee-haw as a Scot would say. You'll see: The fun refuses to concede defeat. Quite to the contrary. Welcome to "Still Game"!

Spun off from Ford Kiernan's and Greg Hemphil's sketch show "Chewin' the Fat", "Still Game" features strong 70+ characters ranging from the comedic widower duo Jack and Victor (Kiernan/Hemphil) over curmudgeon Winston, blabbermouth Isa and tight-arsed Tam to Indian-born shop owner Navid, who sports a rare talent for one-liners of the side-splitting kind. Now pleasures may be limited for old duffers, but life goes on and as such revolves around the local waterhole "The Clansman", the bookies, and the grocer's, with Isa's rumor mill working incessantly. Romance is a mere footnote. In that sense "Still Game" is not that far off the mark as real old geezers go. But in Craiglang there's a bright side to the shadow of old age: Death for example is a constant companion, accepted and dealt with in creative fashion (two words: hypothermia sweepstakes), and in the meantime as far as shaping the rest of one's life is concerned: disaster, small or large, is always around the corner. "Still Game", while out-and-out hilarious, occasionally dark-humored and sometimes over-the-top in a memorable way, also has its powerful dramatic moments. Character developments feel palpable and add another layer to the show and depth one wouldn't want to miss. The nine year long pause between season 6 and 7 is hardly noticeable. Following popular demand, "Still Game" is back again, as stand-up comedy and sitcom. So brush up on your Scottish, or turn on the subtitles. You don't want to miss this.

The Singing Detective (1986)

Deep, deep down, under someone's skin...

[10/10 · 9 October 2016]

There's a mystery buried somewhere: Somewhere between an embittered, hospitalized writer, suffering from a debilitating skin disease, and the overconfident detective of the pulp novel he once wrote. There's mystery surrounding a betrayed father, a suicide, a son having to cope with the contradictions in his young existence, trying to break free. There's also a dame and a body, there always is in a noir scenario. And there are all those memories, fantasies and nightmares of a tortured soul. Unable to move from his bed, our writer becomes the focal point of the story, who sees, hears and struggles with things between reality, fiction and hallucinations, slowly connecting the dots along with us: Down at the docks a foghorn blares, though it sounds like a whistling train... Make sure to bring your imagination to help him solve the puzzle! Dennis Potter's masterpiece "The Singing Detective" is as good as it gets when it comes to creating intelligent television. Not only does he manage to successfully combine film noir, musical, comedy and drama, he also injects existential depth into it that makes one feel deeply for a cynic on the way to his redemption. Suspenseful and entertaining, the multi-layered spectacle draws the viewer in, a viewer, who might feel lost from the very beginning, but will see sympathy grow, despite or maybe because being thrown around between the hospital reality, a constantly changing book plot, flashbacks and escapist adventures of the mind. Potter's wizardry lies in gradually expanding the context, allowing themes to transcend their confines, bleed into threads of seeming parallel worlds, and resonate more and more with each episode. Actors play multiple parts, scenes are repeated in variations - and we are reminded to look for more than just a plot. Thus "The Singing Detective" continues to grow on the inclined watcher with every repeated viewing, for one because of Potter's ingenious screenplay, but also thanks to Jon Amiel's flawless direction and especially Michael Gambon's towering performance. "The Singing Detective" is nothing short of a landmark, controversial for all the wrong reasons at the time of its release, but well deserving to be rediscovered as the pinnacle of Potter's outstanding career.

Side note: There's are of course also mysteries buried somewhere between Dennis Potter and Philip E. Marlow (who seems to have misplaced an "e"), between a writer who suffered from psoriatic arthropathy like a certain character he created and his Chandleresque creation. There's mystery surrounding the outright denial that "The Singing Detective" is autobiographical and the dozens of biographical coincidences. Just one more layer to add to a legacy looking for a hobby detective. Feel free to sing along...

Frasier (1993–2004)

Best written and performed American sitcom to date

[10/10 · 30 June 2016]

While "Frasier" is in fact merely a spin-off of the shrink character established in the long-running "Cheers", he's quite different in his own show. Which is a good thing: Years after leaving his favorite bar in Boston, Frasier works as a radio psychiatrist in Seattle; he's older, also more mature, oh, and at the same time his naivety concerning matters of the common man is easier exposed. Plus, he'd still eat a worm if someone were to give it only a French name. Frasier might be short-tempered, single-minded and self-absorbed at times, but he has his heart in the right place. As far as women are concerned he's charming, but all in all mostly hopeless, which on the other hand is part of the fun for the viewer as it makes him even more lovable and easier to connect with when keeps messing things up - despite the best of intentions. Then again he's snooty as ever, and has found a brother he never admitted to have in "Cheers". And finally there's dad with a hip problem who has permanently pitched a tent (or rather a tasteless chair) in Frasier's postmodern apartment. Aside from considerable taste differences to the culturally spoiled brats dad also brings his terrier Eddie with him, primarily good for winning staring contests with irritating shrinks.

One thing soon becomes perfectly clear when watching the series: Kelsey Grammar (Frasier) and David Hyde Pierce (his brother Niles, psychiatrist too by profession) unmistakably form one of the rare comedic dream teams one finds hard to get tired of even after 11 years. Thanks to the brilliant writing staff especially the early seasons sparkle with witty comebacks, acid remarks, hilarious situations only snobs may chance upon finding themselves in. Furthermore the show sports a level of intelligence and cultural references that are entirely absent from many American shows, particularly sitcoms, served with frantic pace and spot-on delivery. While "Frasier" has a certain highbrow angle that lends the series its uniqueness, it can nevertheless be enjoyed on multiple levels: aside from sophisticated remarks of the side-splitting kind there's also slapstick and farce in the mix, and even the weaker episodes blow comparable situation comedies still out of the water. The sophistication that permeates the show clearly has something to do with the fact that "Frasier" turns out as a highly re-watchable offering, yes, even an addictive one, for there's always something new one can pick up in re-runs. That, and the fact that the characters are drawn so incredibly well makes the show an absolute winner. From physical therapist Daphne, Nile's desperate infatuation, over Frasier's producer and sleep-around Roz to station manager Kenny right down to the easily irritable Bulldog and the 11 seasons long unseen Maris, Nile's wife and doom - the writers gave all of these people recognizable personalities, even the invisible ones. Just like Frasier's radio sessions in fact give sound psychological advice. Instead of a quick laugh and fast food for the soul, you get the fun plus food for thought to go. And maybe an urge to grab some coffee. In that respect we close the circle, lift our cup and say: Cheers!

The Naked Island (1960)

Finding beauty in the plight we call life

[9/10 · 14 March 2016]

Kaneto Shindô's heart-rending minimalist gem "The Naked Island" (1960) indeed strips movie-making to its very naked basics: imposing black and white pictures, sparsely used sounds and a musical theme to die for turn a film with a simplistic story into a major cinematic event. Dialog there is none. Which is more than an experiment, rather it's an artistic statement. Indeed, as the film shows: Conversations are not required in order to tell a tale that focuses on the burdens of life weighing on its characters, a life that is monotonous, repetitive, bland, but which is lived with dignity and perseverance. And if you are willing to let yourself be guided by images alone, you'll soon forget any ambitions of plot and will find yourself captured by the daily routines of people struggling to grow crops on a tiny rugged island where water is as precious as the sun merciless. There's drama as well, but only as a natural extension of the circumstances.

The cinematography is unobtrusive, doesn't draw attention to itself, yet at the same time every single image is so carefully framed, that it could stand on its own like a painting. Shindô however paints in moving pictures, and the impact is thus even stronger. As an audience we are simply observing the contradictory sublime beauty of the triteness through a gorgeous black and white filter, and while what we see feels like a documentary in content, it is wrapped in visual poetry rarely seen in such condensed intensity. The documentary feel and the poetic approach might be comparable to Flaherty's famous "Man of Aran" (1934). Both pictures focus on people living on an island and fighting the forces of nature, however, while "Aran" is an action spectacle dealing with a torrential confrontation culminating in musical crescendos on the sound track, Shindô's "Naked Island" is anything but a thrilling ride. Because of that it feels even more realistic and less staged, maybe the perfect counterpoint to the Flaherty picture. Still, both have their own merit on different sides of the spectrum.

In "The Naked Island" the melancholic, restrained music sets the pace, reflecting the inescapable daily chores, the circle of life for crops and men, and we are inevitably drawn into the film's meditative life-affirming mood against the harsh backdrop that permeates all. The depiction of these few lives we follow might seem like a slow, tedious journey against all odds that has little value for viewers, especially when we see the same things again and again. But at some point the arduous task of carrying water buckets up a mountain slope feels more like a dance and it's as if the sparkling of the rocking water only affirms how treasured and precious, how life-giving it is. - In short: If you want to leave your own perhaps hectic and stressful existence behind for an hour and a half, here's something that is likely to touch you in a very profound way: an isle of tranquility and contemplation to return to in the pandemonium of modern everyday life.

Drifting Clouds (1996)

Minimalist masterpiece that digs deep

[9/10 · 17 August 2015]

There's a somewhat magical, perversely paradoxical thing that might take hold of a watcher of Kaurismäki films: Which is that one might find oneself so intrinsically entangled in the lives of characters, their trials and tribulations, that it doesn't seem that important anymore whether the story on screen ends with, say, a happily ever after or a joint suicide. Sounds strange? Seems consequential, though...

That's because a film about tragedies that feel real manages to transcend its medium and hit home. It's because the simplicity and directness of the material without embellishments or over-dramatization touches something in us, brings us down to our own existential level. Rather than impose feelings on the characters we can't help but empathize with them, genuinely. And once we are at this point, we're likely to have learned our lesson, dig up some profound truths, long before the credits roll. This is true of a couple of equally absorbing social dramas from Kaurismäki comparable to "Drifting Clouds", ranging from "Shadows in Paradise" over "Ariel" to "The Match Factory Girl". As for "Drifting Clouds": Despite the downward spiral Kaurismäki's ordinary people find themselves trapped in, survival seems to be dependent on primarily one thing: to rely on one another, to give support, faults aside, to pick oneself up, to fight against the odds, to succeed or succumb - together.

That's what Kaurismäki losers do: struggle with determination. They are working class people, who have very small dreams. Like getting themselves a simple TV set (it has colors!), and pay for it later. But when reality hits hard, again and again, their dreams have to focus on other things, and so these dreams become bigger and more and more improbable to realize. Kaurismäki just observes. The acting is understated, the characters humble, words are scarce. Even music and sound are diegetic only (except for one key moment), all we hear is happening on screen, is not suggested from the outside. Humour of course is not to be missed, and dead-pan at that, the directing is precise, economical. Very Finnish, tailored to Finnish lives, and yet it feels universal, because through this lens we become witnesses of something larger.

You might look at clouds as they drift away - castles in the sky, pipe dreams they say. Trying to reach them could be a vain exercise, even tainted by doom. Make sure to fight your fight, though, for you will discover that you are not alone. You will learn to understand others, and others will understand you. If you go under, there's at least a shared journey to remember. Or your fate, masking as coincidence.

Tarnation (2003)

Tarnished by damnation: a self-portrait

[9/10 · 15 April 2015]

Already the purported budget of a mere $218,32 makes clear that Jonathan Caouette's "Tarnation" is the film that is destined not to please the regular film watcher - and as a consequence it has split audience reactions right in the middle. A good thing to know from the outset, as you should be prepared for something different. After all we're dealing with a biographical documentary here that was made in a highly experimental form consisting of a collage of snapshots, Super-8 films, answering machine messages and video diaries covering a life over thirty years. The footage is at times amateurish some say, however its use is ingenious say others. Well, what's for sure is that you get the director himself in the center of attention: he's gay, he's burdened, he suffers from mental disorder of depersonalization and derealization, yet he's extremely creative as the film shows - and there's Caouette's mentally ill mother of course, primary cause of his troubles and object of his unconditional affection. "Tarnation" is all about this difficult relationship, which has shaped the life of a child, a youth, an adult. It's also about love under harsh conditions and the abysses that lurk in schizophrenia. And its all accompanied by a brilliant soundtrack that made the lion's share of the extra $400,000 that secured the completion of the film and a theatrical release. Along with one of the most brilliant editing jobs possible to accomplish with free software, the added music and sound effects contribute tremendously to the unique coming of age experience that is "Tarnation".

What is evident right from the first frame is that this is no run-of-the-mill documentary, but a visceral piece of life, with all its inadequacies, challenges and hardships, processed in video format in order to understand it and extract its essence, to appreciate what life is living for despite its shortcomings. It is a document by Caouette made for himself as an act of self-therapy, shared with viewers who are willing to connect on an emotional level. Caouette shows unbridled pleasures of raw life as well as its brutal horrors through the lens of home videos and psychedelic images inspired by them, generating something new, memorable and lasting. A therapeutic exercise in self indulgence as some claim? Maybe. Inspirational, moving, personal, gritty, real, shocking nevertheless - in spite of its MTV-like cutting style. In short: a wild ride packed with emotions on all levels that gives us at least a glimpse on what it is like to be tarnished by damnation.

Knowing Me, Knowing You with Alan Partridge (1994–1995)

Getting to know Alan Partridge

[9/10 · 21 June 2014]

British actor Steve Coogan's versatility ranges from his talents as impressionist, playing multiple roles (and this includes a female character!) in his stand-up comedy over voice acting, writing and producing and even starring in very serious feature roles like the Oscar nominated "Philomena" (2013) - and whatever he does, he does it with fervor and consequence. In this spirit his alter ego wannabe "star" Alan Partridge was born, a fictional TV personality at first known for radio programmes and an infamous regional chat show, which would be "Knowing Me, Knowing You". An unlikeable character developed that Coogan slips into regularly in his stand-ups as well, later he based a TV series on him and brought him to the big screen. But it all started in earnest with these few chat show episodes. So what's so special about Alan? Well, Alan Partridge is the type of character who's so full of himself that his shameless displays of narcissism combined with his social awkwardness make his interviews prone to go further downhill without even having started at a notable high point. Partridge is one of the first who understood how to make cringeworthy comedy work for the audience, he's embarrassing, politically incorrect, condescending, pompous and whoever shares time with him on screen, he or she is not the issue - it's basically all about him. Throughout the show numerous fake guest stars help us to familiarize us with the phenomenon that is Partridge, but even then he sneaks in guest "stars" that are "famous" for being his namesake, and quite regularly minor and major catastrophes hit the show which eventually goes out with a bang - literally! The appearances of Alan Partridge over time in different formats vary considerably in quality, but all of them contribute to the manifestation of Coogan as a comedic genius in his alter ego. Not even a misfired bullet can kill off Partridge's career, just like Coogan himself can dodge media bullets with elegance as his superb "Everybody's a bit of a c*nt sometimes" performance shows in his 2009 stand-up, which is as snarky and to the point as Alan Partridge's tongue has an aptitude to screw up royally and with precision. Check that one out to get the picture. And on that bombshell recommendation we'll leave you to discover Alan Partridge and the man behind it. Once you get into it there's only one word to describe what you've been missing so far: A-Haaaaa!

Firefly (2002–2003)

"Stagecoach" in space

[9/10 · 19 June 2014]

Whenever there's a show conceived that is hailed as a masterpiece by an enthusiastic fan base but fails as far as the ratings are concerned, it gets canceled. Such happened to Josh Whedon's "Firefly", the sci-fi series often dubbed "Western in space", which indeed went west just after 14 episodes. Yet concerted fan reaction resulting in strong DVD sales finally brought the characters back for one more time to the big screen, so that with the "Serenity" movie at least a couple of loose threads could be resolved. Even though the concluding action packed picture perhaps wasn't the perfect end point to a series that thrived on episode based character development, at least the short-lived saga now has a beginning and an end, and that's reason enough to be thankful for anyone who likes his sci-fi with a twist.

In Whedon's own words "Firefly" tries to bring the drama of the pioneering days depicted in John Ford's classic "Stagecoach" to space, capturing a gritty tale of renegades who had fought on the losing side of a war and now hire themselves out to do all kinds of jobs in a universe with an uncertain future. Said universe is still very much like Earth in the 21st century, only that mankind has extended its reach into space and spread its problems, inadequacies and animosities in the process. "Firefly's" reality is undoubtedly dystopic, dirty rather than pristine as is the common cliché and the three dimensional characters of the Serenity reflect the insecurities of the times with their internal struggles making their place in the world believable. Also the show is beautifully crafted and shot mainly with hand-held cameras adding to its realistic look and feel, especially in on-board scenes with tight spaces. And while there's technology and enough special effects that enhance the experience, these aspects don't dominate, but let the characters live. It's really all about these very different people and their relationships on the ship around which Whedon's creative mind has built a universe that fits them like a glove and coincidentally is also sci-fi. Most of all it's suspenseful, entertaining, thrilling, with dark secrets making up the main story lines, there are even philosophical themes touched upon - and a strong dose of snarky humor. An oddity perhaps, but it shines brilliantly.

Six Feet Under (2001–2005)

Inspiration for life through the dead and buried

[9/10 · 1 June 2014]

Following the success of his multiple award winning picture "American Beauty" (1999) writer/producer Alan Ball got the opportunity to delve even deeper into the American soul - in series format, allowing much broader stories to be told, and with no strings attached. As it was HBO who ordered the series there were no taboos off-limit, and by request of the network's entertainment president Carolyn Strauss the scripts were welcomed to be a "little more *beep*ed up" than the usual Hollywood fare... Alright then, so there you have it: the edgy full package of controversial themes permeating (American) society on a plate, ranging from sex maniacs over psychotic parents-children relationships with incestuous touches, to abortions and gays as main characters. Hypocrisy abounds and of course there's violence, drugs, foul language, shock and awe, peppered with spectacular horrible deaths.

Admittedly, all that might sound a bit off-putting for a serious drama series if that's all there is to it. However, "Six Feet Under" proves to be much more than a collection of weirdos in grotesque situations. Actually, it's a family show, or rather about a family, and that is key. In its center is not a clichéd dysfunctional sitcom inspired "pseudo-unit", rather "Six Feet Under" deals with the turbulent, fragile lives of real people confronted with real problems and the choices they have to make in life, and it's not always pleasant. The show is a coming of age drama on multiple levels that happens in the ever present face of death, as the Fishers are owners of a funeral parlor. With the territory come tragedy, hardship and emotions in troves, and it all adds to home made problems. What's special about the show is that thanks to great writers like Ball black comedy and surrealism are mixed in, so that you get your fill of amusement in the unfolding drama, and of course the given somber undertones. Always thought-provoking and often on a tightrope walk, but rarely over the top, "Six Feet Under" also shines with an outstanding multiracial ensemble cast (Peter Krause, Rachel Griffiths, Michael C. Hall, Mathew St. Patrick, Freddy Rodríguez, Frances Conroy etc.) that allows the characters to live and breathe. You cannot pay the show more tribute than admitting that once the curtain goes down at the final episode it feels like a serious loss to have to say good-bye to the struggles of the characters, their idiosyncrasies, their hopes and dreams. The series has extremely strong moments that succeed in confronting you with everything life entails, your own mortality included, actually especially that. The show's recipe: The more you think about the inevitability of death, the stronger your lust for life, and in each funeral there's a reminder thereof.

Auf Wiedersehen, Pet (1983–2004)

One for the lads

[8/10 · 19 April 2014]

When the first series of "Auf Wiedersehen, Pet" aired in Britain Lady Thatcher reigned the United Kingdom with her iron fist and work was scarcer than ever. As the Dire Straits would later put it in "Why Aye Man", the soundtrack of series 3: Many had no way of staying afloat, so they had to leave on the ferry boat - economic refugees, on the run to Germany... And here we have the story of the construction workers from Newcastle. With that premise the scenario is set for one of the greatest lads centered series that ever hit the television screen. Their journey over the years leads the guys also to Spain, Arizona or Cuba to name just a few locations, but these are just changing backdrops. The camaraderie is the same throughout all the lads' escapades, and that's what it's all about. The character mix is crafted beautifully by the writers and then played exactly by the right men for the jobs. The selection of the magnificent seven ranges from the man of action and thus unofficial leader Dennis (Tim Healy) over Neville, heavily dominated by his marriage vows (Kevin Whatley), womanizer Wayne as his counterpart (Gary Holton), loudmouth and oddball Oz (Jimmy Nail) to the bashful, boring and bumbling Barry (Timothy Spall), the gentle giant Bomber (Pat Roach) and finally to Moxey (Christopher Fairbank), who has his own troubles with the law.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Pet" deals with the working class, portraying the day to day life from laying bricks to drinking in the evening, but it's TV for everyone interested in good drama peppered with working class humor. And the brickies know how to build their stuff on reality. An alternative to artificially constructed, highly polished studio productions, "Pet" features guys that feel like lads, complete with heavy accents, and while it all is very eighties, the first two series definitely hold up and are as engaging as when they aired. Too bad that with the death of a key cast member things went downhill from there in the subsequent episodes made more than 15 years later. While series three still is good, the rest of the episodes cannot compete in any way with the original series. Nevertheless, if you're fed up with crime shows and high budget TV from the US rehashing the most common denominator recipe again and again, then take a nostalgic look back, and join the lads' visit to Germany - 'cause that's livin' alright!

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring (2003)

Doorways to yourself

[9/10 · 16 April 2014]

Endless sky. Mountains. Trees. Pristine nature all around. A lake. A temple floating in its mid, a haven of tranquility. A Buddhist monk and his pupil call this place their home, living a humble, ascetic life of daily routines. Surrounding and permeating it all is the circle of life, repeating itself over and over again: spring, summer, fall, winter... and spring again. A year, a lifetime, what's the difference? These are the ingredients of Ki-duk Kim's invitation to lean back and watch, to contemplate and meditate, listen closely to the inner self. While the scenery is guaranteed to impress its viewers right away and throughout the picture, the story itself is basically an allegorical offering, a fable if you will, a touchstone for the individual to measure one's self. Kim's film is simple and straightforward, with no unnecessary embellishments that distract from its core, speaking to the heart and told primarily in images with only a handful of characters and next to no dialog - you won't miss anything. However, while the film is directed to the soul searcher in us it doesn't evoke a philosophically imbued melancholy you might find in European cinema for thinkers represented by the likes of Bergman or Tarkovsky. Rather it opens the doors for you to get immersed in an Eastern world view and it does so with bravura without being preachy or over the top.

Ki-duk Kim has a rather diverse oeuvre to offer, but the zen-like quality one finds in "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring" is also present e.g. in his fascinating work "3-Iron", whose original Korean title "Empty House" is much closer to what the film actually tries to convey. In both films food for thought is embedded in a seemingly straightforward story that can resonate deeply, given the viewer's mindset to welcome the Buddhist spirit. It helps to think about the endless sky. Mountains. Trees. Pristine nature all around. And a lake with a single house on it.

Seinfeld (1989–1998)

"Seinfeld" or: How to make something out of nothing

[10/10 · 15 April 2014]

Declared openly and even in the show as the "show about nothing" by its creators, this American sitcom of the Nineties nevertheless has it all. At least everything you might expect from an exceptional comedy that succeeds to connect directly with its viewers and at the same time tries to push the envelope of what's feasible to do on television. But however out there "Seinfeld" episodes might seem, they are mostly superbly written, acted with style and often delivered with impeccable comic precision. Especially the writing of the cleverly intertwined plots easily trumps anything comparable American sitcom productions have to offer, as aside from Seinfeld and David the credits range from Peter Mehlman over Carol Leifer to Larry Charles, forming a strong backbone to what constitutes "Seinfeld" as an American TV institution and reliable catch phrase provider.

Based on real-life experience of its writers Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David (both initially stand-up comedians), "Seinfeld" is about a stand-up comedian living in New York named Jerry Seinfeld, played by, duh, Seinfeld himself, and his queer friends, one of them - might sense a pattern - Larry David's alter ego. Even the goofball and border-line insane Kramer character, always out of work, always full with ideas what one should do and shouldn't do, is based on an actual annoying acquaintance of Larry David. And on top of that one of the show's story arcs centers around introducing a "show about nothing" to the NBC executives, just the way Seinfeld and David did in real life. Well, maybe the pitch in the episodes isn't reproduced exactly, but that's the point: Exploit the own life, even the tiniest things, condense it to the funny bits and push the result to the absolute side-splitting limit. Furthermore "Seinfeld" is known for not shunning controversial topics (the award winning masturbation episode comes to mind, homosexuality is elegantly touched upon, even death has a role etc.) It all works as long as it's in good humor and the audience can identify with the characters. And that's what good situation comedy is all about: Funny, identifiable characters in no less hilarious predicaments we can all relate to from own experiences. Turning nothing into something - that's the art of "Seinfeld".

Mirror (1975)

Russian memories are made of this

[10/10 · 10 March 2014]

Tarkovsky's one of a kind stream of consciousness picture, his unique masterclass in visual and poetic film-making, "The Mirror", is a mesmerizing and entrancing mixture of dreams, images and memories. The latter are personal and collective ones and guide us deep into the soul of the auteur as well as of his motherland Russia. "Mirror" contains reflections from and back to events in the dying protagonist's life, reflections, whose presence are still strong and are actively occupying his mind, fragmentary as they might be, labyrinthine as their paths may be connected. The seemingly disjointed journey nevertheless is rife with deep emotions, has visionary, dreamy, sometimes even nightmarish qualities of a strange beauty rarely put on celluloid. Tarkovsky establishes links between people of multiple generations and of people with objects and landscapes in order to transcend it all towards something that cannot be easily labeled. In essence "Mirror" is all about the wealth that lies in a life lived and how the past bleeds through into the present and the other way round, forming and re-forming existences that live and once lived. Tarkovsky himself described the art of directing as "sculpting in time" and realizes the idea in this masterpiece formally and content-wise: There's no story and clear cut scenario as such at first glance, the film's focus is constantly blurring, actors play multiple roles over various generations, and no morale is being preached and served to be taken home. And yet it's all there if you not only want to look at things, but to see.

"Mirror" invites to be immersed in the pure beauty of the imagery, enhanced by expressive lyrics by Arseniy Tarkovsky and the subtle but effective soundtrack, all tied together to form an essay about life itself, to simply marvel at it, suffer and rejoice. You might let the film wash over you or analyze it to bits, reconstructing a person out of its fragments, it's the viewer's choice. Understanding and connecting references becomes easier at repeated viewings however, and revisiting "The Mirror" definitely is a must to fully appreciate it, whether you want to see it as an emotional journey or as a sophisticated puzzle, or both - the film at any rate will open up a new horizon of perception. The picture feels like the boy it all starts off with, who is plagued by a stammering condition. In order to help him to articulate himself a healer hypnotizes him and finally succeeds in making her subject talk. Tarkovsky directs in the same vein one might say - by means of hypnosis. And just like the stuttering boy who is observed only via TV by someone else, the narrator and the path he takes are observed by the viewer of the film. There's more however the picture requires than piecing together fragments in order to understand an unseen person on screen, after all a person is more than the sum of its parts. Something to remember when looking into a "Mirror".

Twin Peaks (1990–1991)

Mythical murder mystery meets soap opera - and turns cult phenomenon

[9/10 · 28 January 2014]

The owls are not what they seem in the world of Twin Peaks. And it's not only the owls - after all this is a David Lynch series. For starters, the idyllic small American town feels like a throwback to the fifties judging by its nostalgic vibe, the themes prevalent in the show, the jazzy music that is in the air (thanks to the great Angelo Badalamenti), and it's all intentionally so. The fifties was a time that tried to re-establish perfect family life and all around community wholesomeness, and yet under the surface conflicts simmered in society's underbelly - like in Twin Peaks where under the appearance of perfection evil rears its ugly head. Everywhere secrets are wrapped in secrets, and one of the wrapped secrets is the body of homecoming queen Laura Palmer...

Even if you're aware of this premise it won't prepare you for the incomparable mix of melodrama, horror, camp, surrealism and the supernatural that awaits you in Twin Peaks, as "Twin Peaks" is like no other show. And there's more. Because despite all the darkness and even mythical depth of evil that slowly creeps into the series and adds a bizarre, cryptic turn to the course of events, what dominates the show is its all around quirkiness, the soap opera-like banter, the strange situations and above all an eccentric humorous quality, a far cry from any regular crime series drama. Lynch on the one hand goes all the way to depict the primeval existential fears and the horrid things that dwell, thrive in us and corrupt us, but he uncovers these abysses not primarily through hard facts, but by dream-inspired investigation that link subconscious experiences to brutal criminal realities. On the other hand the dark humor Lynch injects elevates the show to a mesmerizing and fascinating hybrid of two extremes. This all wouldn't work if Lynch couldn't manage to weave a unique spell around the viewer that seduces him into a reality permeated by mythical truths that can be taken as profound and lightweight at the same time.

Focal point of course is FBI Agent Dale Cooper whose idiosyncratic methods to find a murderer are based more on intuition than logic, but he's just one of the oddball characters that make "Twin Peaks" a real treat: Meet - among others - e.g. Deputy Andy (Stan Laurel inspired), FBI Regional Bureau Chief Gordon Cole with a hearing problem (Lynch himself), a dwarf, a giant and a shady presence with the common name Bob to name just a few. If you're looking for something you have never seen before and probably will never see again, a crime show between hilarious soap opera and existential profoundness with mythical undertones, then "Twin Peaks" will do the job. Side effect: A possible sudden craving for cherry pie and damn fine coffee. (And an urge to see the controversial movie that was made as a prequel later. Enter at your own risk!)

Curb Your Enthusiasm (2000–2024)

Comedy improv exercise of the Larry David kind

[7/10 · 11 January 2014]

The title already says it all: Creator/writer/actor Larry David makes perfectly clear that one shouldn't expect another "Seinfeld" from him, the show that he co-created, wrote and voice-acted in as well. Instead he goes for an experimental approach: He injects ingredients once already used in "Seinfeld", like sitcom fiction based on derivates of real persons, makes it all improvisation-based, and forms something entirely unique out of it that pushes the envelope - not in the laugh-out-loud style, but rather the cringeworthy way: In "Curb" Larry David is in fact Larry David and doesn't need to hide anymore behind a character named George. Even though it's a fictionalized Larry David - the character still has a lot of Larry himself, and he is direct, outspoken, awkward and embarrassing, basically exemplifying a lot of what many might carry in themselves but are more comfortable to watch on screen done by someone with a real name and goes through as a comedian. If social rules and etiquette have always been a thorn in your side, you'll be pleased to find a militant ally here. "Curb", like "Seinfeld", is a "show about nothing", with real life at the core, even though in this case it means the life of a well-off Jewish writer whose working schedule is somewhat unclear - not really the norm. But despite the apparent differences to the regular person one can nevertheless more and more relate to Larry the more one gets to understand the character in the course of the series and see him at loggerheads with a plethora of guest stars.

The key element why "Curb" works of course is precisely why it is not a regular sitcom, the fact that it defies what we've been used to see in situation comedies: The show is not shot on sound stages in front of an audience, but in Los Angeles, there are no canned laughs, no scripted jokes. What's scripted are merely outlines, the actors ad-lib throughout and bring spontaneity and freshness to the scenes, which makes common comedy fare look staged and dated. "Curb" doesn't always succeed, but it feels organic and closer to life - and what more could you possibly ask for than to laugh at a slice of life, because it's just so true?

Star Trek (1966–1969)

Boldly goes where no sci-fi series has gone before

[9/10 · 5 January 2014]

Here's where it all began - the legendary franchise which still stands strong today nearly half a century after its conception. There's a loyal fan base spanning multiple generations by now, conventions keep the love alive and studios produce further material and rake in troves of money. Star Trek boasts a legacy of multiple TV series and motion pictures of varying quality continuing where the original characters Kirk, Spock and McCoy once set out - nowadays the zeitgeist however dictates that adventuring in space has to be dominated by special effects, quick cutting and convoluted plots, detrimental to the outset of the franchise. The original series cannot deny its roots in the mediocre sci-fi dramas of the 50s and 60s, and therefore comes off in many ways as dated, cartoonish, hammy, however has much more to offer than its successors: an unbeatable combination of wit and charm, interesting characters, adventure stories and strong morality tales often presented as allegories delivering powerful social commentary on contemporary issues.

"Star Trek" as a brainchild of Gene Roddenberry, a screenwriter with a positive futuristic vision for a change, exemplifies its peaceful and humanitarian approach in ever way possible: The year is 2260 and utopia has become a reality - poverty and war have been eradicated, the United Federation of Planets serves as peacekeeping force and its 'Prime Directive' is that no interference with the internal development of alien civilizations is allowed to occur. Conflicts are primarily solved without or minimal use of force, crews include all ethnicities, races and creeds - Russians, African-Americans, Asians, even aliens like Vulcans. The latter bring logic to the mix, which counterbalances the human emotion, and only together they all succeed. "Star Trek" has many an episode that is over the top and whose premise doesn't hold up, but the series makes it up with deliciously delivered dialog and humor, highlight of course being the bantering between the dry Mr. Spock and the snippy McCoy. There's much less technobabble than in the later series, but a lot of imagination and some breathtaking concepts thanks to the creativity of the writers who lay the foundations of a whole realistically constructed universe. Among those writers a certain D.C. Fontana, a female first rank sci-fi writer, an oddity until then unheard of. A premiere in "Star Trek", as was William Shatner's sneaked in first interracial kiss with Nichelle Nichols. So don't say "Star Trek" isn't inspiring...

The Sweet Hereafter (1997)

Moving on or: Walking the fine line between innocence and guilt

[9/10 · 29 December 2013]

A single horrific accident that reaps away dozens of children jolts a small town out of its reverie. The damage done is irreparable, and it's up to the lawyers to find a culprit, because after all someone has to be made responsible, big time... - Atom Egoyan's "The Sweet Hereafter", based on Russell Banks' novel bearing the same title, is a writer's/filmmaker's take on events that actually took place in Alton, Texas, in 1989 where the disaster involving dozens of fatalities led to an array of lawsuits to reach settlements as compensation for the deaths of the children. In the process people who shared the same trauma and grief became even further estranged from each other, despite or especially because of the reparations that were paid. Maybe the price tags put on the children were varying, but it was only a symptom - things could never be the same again. Whole futures perished with the lives lost in an instance, and the animosities the lawsuits brought with them made it even harder to move on for everyone involved.

Canadian filmmaker Egoyan does not tell that particular story, but a fictional version of it, thereby even upstaging Banks' source material e.g. by adding a recurring spot-on poetical reference that is prone to send shivers down your spine. Also in focus of the film: The tight-knit community and a lawyer trying to help people make a case, resulting in a stirring slice-of-life portrayal of loss and how to cope with it seen from different angles. Tragic figures abound, nobody is spared, among them the lawyer himself (the outstanding Ian Holm), who has to deal with his own unrelated personal loss, or the paralyzed 14-year old survivor of the incident (touchingly played by Sarah Polley) who has to make a serious decision that will affect the whole community. The theme of estrangement, melancholy and helplessness permeates every action, always dominated by the question: How could one possibly get over a tragedy like that? But while the film comes across as sincere and real through the subtle way it was shot, its bittersweet visual poetry will haunt you, and the picture is also bold enough to go for a very powerful, unexpected final statement. "The Sweet Hereafter" is a deeply involving, mature and a thought-provoking piece of cinema and along with "Exotica" among Egoyan's very best.

Network (1976)

What does it need until you can't take it anymore?

[9/10 · 24 December 2013]

In this day and age collateral damage of mass media productions seems to be taken for granted. While condemned, the fallout is eventually silently accepted, and the circle of criticizing and continuing the same way as before just confirms the tragic truth behind commercialism. Ratings are paramount, entertainment at all costs, sensationalism is what the masses lust for, and individuals, who die due to exhaustion in Survivor shows or are publicly humiliated by prank calls and driven to suicide, are part of the system. All that and more was already anticipated in the brutally outspoken 1976 satire "Network" written brilliantly by Paddy Chayefsky and directed by grandmaster Sidney Lumet. Was the picture visionary back in the days? Actually it was a reflection on the on air suicide of an anchorwoman suffering under depression. Nothing has changed. It's still all about ratings and money. Are you fine with that?

"Network" with its startling performances (Peter Finch, Robert Duvall, William Holden, Faye "television incarnate" Dunaway), the shockingly dark and cynical script and splendid all around direction is as relevant today as ever, and it's the ultimate film about the amorality that permeates TV business. It is not to be missed, as it will teach you a lesson. It grabs you by the throat, no doubt, it chokes you, doesn't let you go, long after you've seen it. Alas, it's just a movie. If a film like "Network" despite its head-on collision course against the system cannot bring a change, maybe it at least contributes to help you consider altering your own viewing habits. No need to get "mad as hell" like the film's principal character Howard Beale, but a decisive "I'm not gonna take this anymore" will do to confront a mass media machinery with your individualism. To end with the last blood-curdling words of Christine Chubbuck: "In keeping with Channel 40's policy of bringing you the latest in 'blood and guts', and in living color, you are going to see another first — attempted suicide." The film's Howard Beale insisted to be a real person. Christine Chubbuck in whose honor the film was written was one. May she rest in peace.

Mary and Max (2009)

Love letter to a friend - the best and only friend

[9/10 · 3 November 2013]

With the animation short "Harvie Krumpet" (2003) creator Adam Elliot made his points - that stopmotion isn't out, that you can make a serious, heartbreaking and at the same time hysterically funny film about Tourette's Syndrome, and that the results of such an effort are indeed Oscar worthy. - Fast forward to 2009: Do Oscar winner Elliot's established points work in a feature film as well that has been five years in the making? Yes, even more so. "Mary and Max", the unlikely friendship of a neglected misfit Australian eight year old girl and her middle aged pen pal from New York suffering from Asperger syndrome is definitely a highlight story-wise and animation-wise, and even excels oddball "Harvie" by a mile.

It all starts with chocolate being sent innocently across the ocean and a child's harmless questions being answered by a total stranger who doesn't have a grip on reality himself, but tries anyway. However, as this is no Pixar or Studio Ghibli film be prepared for the dark side of things to emerge when Mary grows older, Max fatter, and the relationship becomes strained and whole existences are being threatened. Fear not however, as form and content match the development beautifully and pull you in with charm, wit and pitch-perfect musical accompaniments that add flair and pace. The juxtaposition of the two different worlds is highly effective with New York in black and white and Mary's Australia in color but toned down. The latter appears more alive, Max on the other hand always follows regular routines: his life gets turned upside down only when a letter arrives, but deaths and lottery wins count only as footnotes. Not to forget: Phillip Seymour Hoffman (as the voice of Max) gives a first rank performance with side-splitting one-liners that could be enshrined for eternity. To sum it up: Elliot's second effort is bittersweet and complex, fluctuating between light and dark humor, but hilarious all around, full with well packaged social commentary, but most of all has a lot of warmth and depth, building up to an intense unforgettable finale. "Mary and Max" is a clearly adult themed animation pearl, an emotional roller coaster ride. Not the typical feel good animation fare, but one that will sweep you off your feet with its very own and rather unique means.