Monday, September 11, 2006

S is for Souviens (and Sheep) E Eee N 3

Ghosts of Cite Soleil—Directed by Asger Leth

Asger (son of The Five Obstruction’s Jorgen) Leth’s doc on Haitian street gangs opens peacefully on a washed out sunrise over the embattled Caribbean Island. Thematically, it may be a metaphor for the serenity of life should man remove himself from the equation, but in Leth’s hands, the image is swallowed in such bombast the point eludes. Self-named gang chief “2Pac” is a rail thin rapper who smokes weed and wields a glock while patrolling the sewer-infested streets of his port town, Cite Soleil. Once backed by Haitian president Jean-Bertrand Aristide, 2Pac, his younger brother Bily and a few other local thugs enforce a paper thin street code that creates order enough to stifle the onslaught of complete chaos. Politically, there’s much in Mr. Leth’s documentary worthy of investigation yet rather than complicate the narrative, the film settles instead for an observational approach akin to watching wild dogs set loose in a hen house. The film is loud, violent and aimless, tracking 2Pac and his cohorts through moments of pain and anguish always bathed in naiveté. When a beautiful French aide-worker falls for 2Pac, her wild blonde mane lain across his naked chest, the childish glee upon his face belies the truth of everything Leth has shown us heretofore. There are no happy endings in Cite Soleil. What begins in joy must end in pain and this film presents that truth as inescapable.

Babel—Directed by Alejandro Gonzalez Inarittu


Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu and Guillermo Arriaga have made three feature films together beginning with the evocative Amores perros. Bathed in the thick atmosphere of the filmmaker’s Mexico City, that film blindsided the moviegoing public with a passion and familiarity nurtured by an accomplished aesthetic. In Babel, the aesthetic remains but the passion seems missing. Like the duo’s previous efforts, this film follows three storylines connected by a single event. In this case said event is the firing of a rifle, the repercussive waves of which extend to a vacationing American couple, the Mexican nanny they’ve left to watch over their children and a Japanese businessman who gifts a hunting rifle to a Moroccan guide. Each of the stories involves a crisis and fraught relationships—whether racial, familial, cultural or societal—dramatized to the point of catharsis at the will of consummate craftsmen. And yet…I could not think but compare Babel to Amores perros, a film that packs much more punch with much less dressing. Where Mr. Inarritu’s first film told each of the three stories in turn, Babel jumps from one to the next and back, always resetting the dramatic scale just at its point of peaking. What’s more, where the theme of interconnected strife seemed novel in the filmmakers’ earlier work, the device seems old hat now, a tactic that reduces dramatic interest rather than creates it. We’ve seen this film from this director in more potent form. Babel feels like the proficient sparring session of a bored prizefighter.

Venus—Directed by Roger Michel

Peter O’Toole may be the world’s most revered living actor and Roger Michel treats him as such in this rewarding, magical film about dirty old men and the poetry of mortality. Mr. O’Toole plays Maurice, a man whom much like himself is an aging actor in the final stages of life. When his best friend is bombarded by the arrival of an angst-ridden teenage niece, Maurice indulges himself insomuch as his will allows. Teaming once more with writer Hanif Kureishi, Mr. Michel again proves himself adept at tackling the taboo without sacrificing complexity. To be fair, much of what takes place is, on the surface, utterly decrepit. As Maurice, Mr. O’Toole willfully solicits a youth with tactics that are morally distasteful. With Venus, however, Mr. Michel is out to investigate the fleeting beauty of life and the amorous power that beauty can have on us; an us that convincingly includes elderly men. The film bears the definitive lilt of a conventional dramedy, Maurice riding the typical three act narrative-coaster before rising from the ashes into a solemn dénouement. It’s in the hedges of such commonplace story markers that Mr. Michel does his work, carving out memorable moments from the details of familiar beats: a monologue read by Mr. O’Toole against a closed bathroom door, a waltz between two aged men amidst the tombs of their contemporaries, a supper prepared for a loved one irrevocably lost by past transgressions. This is the heft of Mr. Michel’s filmmaking and Venus is all the more delightful for it.

2 Comments:

Blogger P.L. Kerpius said...

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12:25 PM  
Blogger P.L. Kerpius said...

Barry, I've told you before, I like your film criticism; it's always a nice perspective from my tech/production savvy friend. But I think you should also make a site that hosts your actual films, this way people like me have an easier way to notify you of short movie contests that are running at IFC.

I know I told you about it via email, though not in much detail. So here it is: The IFC Shorts Down Under short movie contest!

What: A movie contest for new filmmakers that provides a wide outlet for publicity, a chance for national screening of your winning movie, plus a friggin trip to Australia.

When: The contest is running now until November 23rd, that's a Thursday.

Where: Here, at the IFC Shorts Down Under website. Or go to www.ifc.com.

Why: Because you could win, Barry. And though I don't remember who you picked for the "6g Continents" trip, I'm hoping it's me, meaning I get the second ticket to the land down under. That has a nice ring to it, methinks...

Who: You, Barry Jenkins. And also all of your filmmaking friends.

Good Luck, brother!

9:14 PM  

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