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Movie Reviews |
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| La France a Francophile's dream | |
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by Scott Rice -
SGN Contributing Writer La France br /> Opening September 5 I settled in to watch Serge Bozon's second film, La France, with no expectations. I was surprised to find a terrific little throwback of a movie that recalls some of the best French cinema ever made, especially the surrealist films of Luis Bunuel and the idiosyncratic work of Robert Bresson. Don't let this historical cinematic hyperbabble scare you off; this film is absurdly pleasing and pleasantly surprising at times. At other times, it feels self-conscious and plodding (it is French). If you like French film, you absolutely must see La France. If you aren't a big fan, go anyway but prepare for a unique experience. La France is set in the weary, late stages of World War I in rural northern France. Camille, played by Sylvie Testud, receives a letter from her soldier-husband saying he is leaving her. She then disguises herself as a boy and sets out to find him. Camille soon falls in with a band of French soldiers - who are apparently the worst soldiers ever, as she is inexplicably able to sneak into their camp unnoticed while they sleep. Despite the protestations of le Lieutenant (Pascal Greggory), Camille follows them on their journey through the ravaged warfront. Though the viewer waits for the soldiers to realize Camille's real identity, it's soon revealed that the soldiers have a secret of their own. The first hint that Bozon didn't have the standard war movie in mind is the stylized and theatrical entry of characters; you can almost hear the assistant in a tweed cap and knickers yelling, "Action!" as the actors enter the frame right on cue. Then you notice the sparse dialogue and the muted pallet of blues and earth tones. The film teases you along, not willing to give up its secrets until the first song (yes, it is a musical, but owes nothing to Busby Berkeley, trust me) and then you know for sure this is something different. You know this film is working on its own terms. The true surrealists like André Breton, Salvador Dalí, and the aforementioned Bunuel were more concerned with the fortuitous journey of the mind than with pedestrian linear narratives. You'll probably enjoy La France more if you relax and think of it in these terms than if you keep trying to employ more familiar cinematic language that simply doesn't apply. This surrealist take on the movie isn't the only way into its unique world (I could have written four totally different reviews and argued for the validity of each), but it is one way in. This is what separates art from movies. And don't expect cows in the living room or melting clocks; that's been done. However, this is the story of Camille's journey in response to inscrutable loss, a journey that just may be inside her head. Feel free to see the film and then send in derisive letters telling me I'm an idiot. I'll read them over a glass of flinty French white wine and have a good laugh. I admit it: I'm a Francophile. I never once uttered the term "freedom fries" without biting sarcasm, and I've never shied away from a good bottle of Sancerre. In addition, I studied film under Phil Solomon, a protégé of Stan Brakhage, so my affection for this movie may not translate to folks with less patience for experimental cinema. But if you want to experience a challenging work of cinematic art and you're willing to plunk down hard-earned cash in order to commit to being fully engaged, you should see this award-winning film. If you're looking for a late summer distraction, you should pass. La France plays the Northwest Film Forum, September 5-11, with shows daily at 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. (Saturday and Sunday at 5 p.m.). |
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| Disaster Movie stinks up the theater | |
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by Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid -
SGN A&E Writer Disaster Movie Now Playing I feel I need to preface this review by saying that I appreciate satire, and that I regularly watch re-runs of South Park, and even argued the merits of the same show with my ex and daughter recently. So, I do have a sense of humor, and until that little voice inside that tells you something is wrong kicked in, I did laugh a little at the newest spoof movie from the team of Jason Friedberg and Alan Seltzer (Meet the Spartans and Scary Movie). And there are a few funny moments in Disaster Movie. A few. Then the scatological humor, the pregnancy jokes, the homophobic "jokes," and anti-Trans "jokes" wear thin. The movie is of the same formula as the other moneymaking schlocky movies Friedman and Seltzer keep doing, in that it weaves a very weak (think non-existent) storyline around a bunch of big budget films. Lanced are Juno, Cloverfield (that one actually did make me laugh), Prince Caspian, and Batman, to name a few - even my fave, South Park gets a wink and nod, with a grisly death of one of the actors and the familiar tag line that ends with "you bastards!" Still, even this only gleaned a smile from most of the screening audience, who didn't laugh at most of the movie's jokes (except for a rather rowdy group in the back of the theater). The filmmakers seem to think that a few poo jokes, some pubescent sexual innuendo, and lots of homophobic comments make for a good movie, but one hopes the public won't keep buying this crap. Unfortunately, like the other ones, this one will probably make a ton of cash for its makers, thus guaranteeing more of the same. But, if I were you, dear reader, I'd pass on this disaster, unless of course you like watching endless body fluid jokes and some of the worst acting I've seen since Battlefield Earth, which made most of the free screening audience make an exodus from the theater. |
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| I Served the King a unique annoyance | |
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by Sara Michelle Fetters -
SGN Contributing Writer I Served the King of England Opening September 5 Diminutive Jan Díte (Ivan Barnev) knows what he wants from life. His goal is to become a millionaire, and if that means selling sausages to train travelers or eagerly learning the ropes with wide-eyed glee at the feet of a cosmopolitan head waiter at a luxurious Czechoslovakian eatery, then he's all for it. And even though his country stands at the brink of war, the German Nazi menace ready to pounce, the young man doesn't let anything stand in his way, no cost too high just so long as his dreams come merrily true. Years later, released from prison after being incarcerated by the ruling Communist government at the end of World War II, Díte (Oldrich Kaiser) reflects on what his life has come to. While not what he imagined, and although he's living in the bombed-out remnants of German-style pub and his days are filled with labors the likes of which would have made Hercules sweat, the old man still can't help but smile. While his dreams have come and gone, the knowledge he's gained in the acquiring (and the losing) of them is admittedly incredible, and while the millions might be lost, the man he's become is hardly a failure. Czechoslovakia's official entry for Best Foreign Film for the 2008 Academy Awards, I Served the King of England drove me absolutely batty. Sometimes glorious, most times ponderous, pretty much all the time unconventional and loopy, this fantastical drama of eccentricity and selfishness struck against the backdrop of inhuman evil and depravity is unlike anything else I've seen this year. That's not necessarily a compliment. Díte, even with his can-do attitude and almost fiendishly intoxicating smile, is almost entirely unlikable. While I can certainly understand the desires for wealth, the way he goes about fulfilling these aspirations most times turned my stomach. Opportunistic at every turn and willing to stab burgeoning friendships squarely in the back (almost before they even have the chance to begin), there is nothing this little man won't do to get ahead. Based on the novel by Bohumil Hrabal, writer and director Jirí Menzel (The Life and Extraordinary Adventures of Private Ivan Chonkin) takes a sort of a Chaplinesque view of Díte's life and times. The film one part Life Is Beautiful and two parts Modern Times, all if it mixed together with a little bit of The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie thrown in for good measure. The problem is that, as talented as the filmmaker obviously is, all three of the auteurs behind those pictures knew how to drive their themes home to a place of hard-hitting meaning or subtlety hysterical surrealistic nuance. Menzel, for all his visual flair, never quite gets there, the final scenes building to a coda that's as head-scratching and as obtuse as any I can recently recall. Still, I have to say this is one of the few films in recent weeks that I absolutely could not tear my eyes away from. Certain scenes and images are almost indelibly struck upon my brainpan, lavish naked montages inside a German estate and quietly haunting vignettes in the cold Czech countryside hinting at just how marvelous this could have been. Additionally, both men playing Díte are superb, Barnev in particular hitting a note of whimsically driven menace that's almost poetically sublime. I just wish I liked it more. I never felt as if I Served the King of England knew exactly what it was it wanted to be, never got an appreciation for its constantly shifting attitudes. While the movie ebbs and flows to currents that are distinctly one of kind, the waves they ultimately make didn't move me to any sort of emotional release one way or the other. Instead, the film just kind of sat there, pointlessly crashing against a rock wall of its own creation, and for all its weirdly hypnotic idiosyncrasies and slyly good-natured deviousness, the only thing being served was a frustratingly annoying cloud of my own indifference. |
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