Welcome

Directed by Philippe Lioret

France, 2009

Like "La Haine", the cult film that in 1995 brought in to global attention the plight of young people from different cultural backgrounds living in France's deprived suburbs, “Welcome” is another example of French cinema that provoked a storm of controversy.

The director Philippe Lioret portrays with brutal honesty the lives of refugees trying to reach the UK from France - the cold, hunger, violence from police and between each other, but also the risks run by those who try to help them. It shows what dirty work that French state does to make both, refugees and charity workers, lives a misery.

The film is set in Calais, a gathering point for illegal migrants, determined to get to England by any means possible, whatever the price. One of them is Bilal (played by novice actor Firat Ayverdi), a 17-year-old Kurd from Iraq, who has spent the last three months traveling illegally across Europe in an attempt to reunite with his girlfriend, who recently emigrated to England. His difficult journey is almost over when he finally reaches the far northern coast of France, and can literally see his destination from across the Channel. But it is here that his journey comes to an abrupt halt as local authorities, and the immigration laws they are enforcing, prevent him from going any further. With no other options left, since he failed to sneak hidden in a lorry, Bilal devises a plan to swim across the bitterly cold waters of the Channel. He heads to the local swimming pool to train, where he's coached by Simon (Vincent Lindon), a middle-aged swimming instructor in the middle of divorce process, who quickly divines what his young immigrant pupil is preparing to do. Simon's attempts to dissuade him from his mission fall on deaf, brave ears. Bilal seems oblivious to the danger he faces with his naïve, headstrong optimism (asked what he's going to do in UK answers that he will try to join Manchester United, because he plays soccer well), but Simon, although not entirely sure why he is helping him in his mad quest, clearly admires the boy's sacrifices for love especially when he compares Bilal's passion to his own failed marriage. “I couldn't even cross the road to get you back”, he tells his soon-to-be-ex-wife in a one of the scenes. Despite initial disinterest and to win back the affections of his liberal wife, after her taunt that he stood by and said nothing when the 'illegals' were thrown out of a supermarket for “upsetting the locals”, Simon allows Bilal to stay in his place for a few days. With a time their friendships develops and Simon comes to appreciate the plight of migrants around Calais and the risks charity workers (one of them being his ex-wife) take in helping them. Both characters show enormous strength. Bilal has the strength to do all it takes for love, and Simon has the courage to risk everything for this ambitious, illegal immigrant as very soon, he becomes threaten by local police as well.

The film paints a harsh picture of Calais.“It’s like our US-Mexican border,” says French filmmaker, describing the location for his film. It shows immigrants running away from dogs and police. Cold and hungry, they wander about the town, sleeping in the woods around the port known as “the jungle”. This so-called "jungle", a makeshift camp-site, is the result of the closure of Red Cross-run Sangatte refugee centre in late 2002. Other horrific scenes show migrants hidden in trucks wrapping their heads in plastic bags to avoid carbon dioxide detectors. But most of all Lioret's film was aimed at criticising a French law that makes it a crime to help illegal immigrants. That was one of the real issues behind the film; for Lioret it is “sinful” to have a law that makes helping an illegal migrant a criminal offence in France. What he wants are four little words “à des fins lucratives” (for financial purposes) added to that law; “Yes we must punish those who make money out of misery but no we must not punish solidarity.” He went so far as to compare this situation to Nazi-occupied France during the Second World War, saying the constant raids and arrests are "like something out of the 1940s”; “to see that a decent guy can all of a sudden be charged and imprisoned for helping a migrant is crazy. It feels like it's 1943 and we've hidden a Jew in the basement”. Obviously this comparison upset many people, among them French Immigration minister Eric Besson, who found it “unbearable” and said said Lioret has "crossed a red line" in an effort to generate publicity for the film. For me the reference to Second World War is also a little bit too much but “Welcome” is definitely increasing public awareness about the plight facing immigrants not only in France, but all around the world and that's a good thing. In the end immigration is one of the most important social issues at the moment.

I'm very glad I saw this film, it evoked all the feelings I thought U.S.-Mexican “Sin Nombre” would, but failed to do. Philippe Lioret's film is a superb, personal account of one man's protest against inhuman law system. Though the word 'politics' is never mentioned in this tremendously powerful tale, “Welcome” is clearly political. In the end it's hard to imagine for a drama about immigration in a country as multicultural as France not to be. Very good movie indeed!

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We meet Bilal when he's almost at the end of his journey, and never get to know how did he reach that far. But there's a movie that can give some insight into the fortunes of illegal immigrants traveling through Europe: "In this word" directed by British director Michael Winterbottom. The story of Jamal, Afghan orphan already born in exile in Pakistan, shows with great detail in his tremendous journey from Pakistan to London. This is a true story shot in semidocumentary style with no happy ending in sight.

Me Life Without Me

Directed by Isabel Coixet
Canada/Spain, 2003

Young woman in her early 20s discovers she's dying of cancer. She uses the little time she has left trying to do the things she always wanted and setting things up for those around her. Yes..., if you read the synopsis of this film, it sounds unbearably maudlin and weepy. And yet it is such a good film!

Ann (Sarah Polley) is a hard-working 23-year-old mother with two small daughters, a husband who spends most of the time unemployed (Scott Speedman), a mother who hates the world (Blondie's Debbie Harry in a remarkably unglamorous role) and a jailed father (Alfred Molina) whom she has not seen in ten years. She lives with her small family in a trailer on the backyard of her mother's house, in the outskirts of Vancouver and works nights as a cleaner at the local university, a place that reminds her of the life that’s passed her by. Ann knows that by falling pregnant at the age of 17 and getting married with the only men she ever kissed, her first and only love Don, she missed out on a lot of what life has to offer, but it's not all that bad after all. Her life's tough, opportunities very limited, but still she has managed to build a warm, loving family. She is certainly not an unhappy person.

Then, one day, during a medical checkup following a collapse, she is diagnosed with advanced-stage ovarian cancer and told she has only about two months to live. The cancer has already spread and become inoperable. This prognosis seems so cruelly unjust that even the doctor can hardly utter it. The scene when Ann is delivered the news is really devastating. In a way it also feels ironic, since she has never really lived her life anyway. Ann takes it quite stoically. Using the cover of anaemia, she decides to keep her condition a secret, and refuses to tell anybody, not even her loved ones, about her impending death. Instead she makes a "Things to Do Before I Die" list. These range from the mundane (getting her hair and nails done, smoking and drinking), to really significant ones (making someone fall in love with her). Little by little she completes all of them, visiting her estranged father in prison, improving relationship with her mother, having an affair with another man. Her decision to "sleep with another man, just to see what it's like", leads her to an encounter with Lee (Mark Ruffalo), which evolves in something much deeper than she probably expected starting it. Most importantly she's prearranging details of her family's life following her death, of “her life without her”. That includes finding a new women for her husband that her daughters will like and recording series of birthday tapes for her two daughters for every year up until they 18, preparing them for a life without her.

“My Life Without Me” was the first English-language project from Pedro Almodóvar's El Deseo company and the directing debut of Isabel Coixet. The plot was inspired by a short story by Nanci Kincaid titled "Pretending the Bed Is a Raft" but Coixet made a few changes, most notably she let the main character keep her terminal illness a secret from her family and friends. While Coixet's decision allowed her to avoid overdosing on sentimentality, for many viewers Ann's refusal to share the news with those that most deserved to know was very troubling. They couldn't believe anyone would be so cruel as to deny her loved ones the chance to say goodbye. But she simply does not want to see people around her with long faces, and obsessed with her approaching death. Through a series of beautiful and poignantly honest recordings to her family, Ann explains her choices and asks for forgiveness. Preparation of these recordings are the film's best scenes - well-acted, well-scripted, deeply touching, often emotionally devastating. In one of those scenes, Ann sits alone in a car trying to speak clearly into her tape recorder. "Now you're five," she says, before kissing the microphone. A few tapes later she says to her other daughter: "If you get a new mum, try and love her, OK?"

It is a smart and charming film, although sometimes I've found the plot too contrived. The moment when this attractive young girl, also named Ann, moves in next door and shares the story about conjoined twins, the movie loses a bit of its credibility it had maintained up to that point. Also Coixet's use of extreme close-ups is sometimes nagging. What Coixet has done splendidly was the choice of actors. A cast of indie-flick darlings is extremely well-assembled, and adds some quirkiness to the film (“Pulp Fiction” Maria de Medeiros, appears as a braid-wearing hair stylist obsessed with Milli Vanilli). The greatest of them is of course Sarah Polley, her subtle, understated performance is particularly impressive and makes this movie work. She's so ordinary in her extraordinary condition. In “My Life Without Me” she doesn't play a survivor, she's really tender, vulnerable. But there is no lapse into melodrama, and blessedly few tears. Instead of this there is plenty of sweet moments and quite a lot of ironic humour. The rest is told with silence, the prospect of incredible pain and suffering is there, but we actually never get to see it. It's a different take on the portrayal of terminal illness.

“My Life Without Me” is low-key, thoughtful, very touching and very sad but also quite a buoyant film. It has a first-rate cast and surprisingly lot of humour and joy in it. In essence it's a kind of fairy tale. Strange to write it about a film with such a serious subject but that is how it feels.... Beautiful, sad fairy tale about the efforts to live the life to the fullest and leave some legacy behind.

The Official Story

original title: La Historia Oficial
Directed by Luis Puenzo
Argentina, 1985

"The Official Story" was a winner of many awards, including the Oscar in foreign language category, being not only the first Argentinian film to win it (the second would be "The secret of their eyes" in 2010), but actually the first Latin American that has achieved it. Not that getting an Oscar really mean something... After all Oscars never had credibility for those who seriously took cinema as an art form. There has always been a very heavy political and commercial sense of purpose attached to these awards. Most probably this is why “The Official Story” has won it. It may not be a great movie from a strictly cinematic point of view and it represents quite conventional approach to narrative, but in terms of political and emotional intensity it's big. It was made shortly after the Falklands/ Malvinas War which brought the end of military regime that governed the country from 1976 to 1983, and the courage of everybody involved in the project was enormous.

"The Official Story" is almost textbook example of how to use a personal story to tell and illuminate much larger one. The plot is an intensely political. Through the story of a single family and one woman's realisation of unknowing complicity to the reign of terror, the film deals with the horror of Argentina's ‘dirty war’, when thousands of suspected enemies of the state were taken to clandestine prisons where they were tortured and murdered. It also raises questions concerning the fate of children who were taken from their prisoned parents and given to childless families living in good terms with military regime. While doing so, the director of the film opted for a quite interesting perspective and focused not on the mothers who lost their children, but on a woman who gained a child.

Alicia (Norma Aleandro) and Roberto (Hector Alterio) are happily married, affluent couple living comfortable life in Buenos Aires with their adopted daughter, the five year old Gaby (beautiful performance of Analia Castro). She's a high school history teacher, he's a prosperous businessman that has successfully climbed the socioeconomic ladder owing to his connections with the military leadership. Alicia's well ordered, easy and happy life begins to fall apart after an unsettling reunion with her long-time friend Ana (Chunchuna Villafane), that has just returned to Argentina after living several years in exile in Europe. During an evening together, she reveals in vivid detail that years ago she was taken from her home, held prisoner and tortured for more than a month by members of the former regime as they attempted to extort from her the whereabouts of her "subversive" partner. From Ana Alicia learns that many others had been held prisoner, tortured, murdered, and that infants had been taken from their mothers and handed over to families related to the military junta. Ana's story makes Alicia uncomfortable, as she starts to wonder about her adopted child's true origins. She has no idea where Gabi came from, it was Roberto who arranged the adoption. She questions her husband to unravel the mystery and clear her conscience about the situation, but he dismisses her, saying that she should not be concern with it. It's easy to see that her husband knows more about their adopted daughter’s origins than he is willing to acknowledge. Alicia finds herself asking more and more questions, and since Roberto is aggressively evasive and always reacts badly when Alicia enquires into Gaby's parentage, she slowly begins to suspect that the baby her successful husband brought home five years before is the daughter of a murdered political prisoner.

A further area of upset concerns Alicia's history classes. Her students start questioning her strict adherence to the history she presents solely from the government-approved books. Alicia always believed only what she read and during the course sticked to official textbooks and historical documents but her students are routinely disbelieving it and contesting that “history is written by assassins”. Some of her radicalised by political events of recent years students bring her photos of 'desaparecidos', the victims of the military government’s repression of real and imaginary leftist groups, people taken by the army and never returned. Tormented by the information that Ana revealed and those that her students share with her, Alicia gradually starts to doubt in the ‘official story’ and decides to investigate herself the circumstances of her adopted daughter’s birth.

In her increasingly frantic and desperate search, Alicia meets Sara (Chela Ruiz), member of the Mothers and Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo, woman whose daughter and son-in-law disappeared during 'dirty war'. Misunderstanding the situation and assuming that Alicia is also looking for her relatives, Sara helps her by showing numerous albums with the people who were abducted and tells the story of her own family. It seems almost certain that Gabi is her grandchild. Appearance of a Mothers and Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo, a large group of women who demonstrate regularly demanding to know what has happened to their missing children and grandchildren, is a turning point in Alicia's life that leads to political awareness. The movie requires some knowledge of Argentina's history and society. While it is completely possible not to know about previous regime's practices on adoptions, it is still not easy to believe that an educated woman could be as oblivious as Alicia to the horrors being committed in her country. But in fact many members of the Argentinian middle class were only vaguely aware of the disappearance of people, tortures and other atrocities committed during this most sinister and dark episode in Argentina's history.

Alicia learns a lot, and comes to know her society as she had never imagined it. The discovery of the shady dealings of her husband who has prospered greatly in business with the Americans and generals during the military regime ruins her marriage. Roberto combines power and softness, tenderness toward Alicia and Gaby with ruthlessness toward those he considers troublemakers. His wife may be an innocent, but he knew reality behind the previous system very well. The viewer can only imagine what he has seen and done in his climb to success.

It is a movie that asks some very difficult questions, like: should the mothers of children adopted during military regime investigate their origins? Is their own love to them less true? What would be "best" for those children? It shows some positive changes in Argentina. The fact that Alicia’s friend Ana is able to return to the country after being tortured and exiled can be interpreted as a civil triumph. Similarly, the students’ rejection of the ‘official story.’ It also shows the church’s failure to react to political realities, Alicia's priest refuses to help or even listen to her. Now, many years later we know about church complicity to the regime.

“The Official Story” imposes no ideology or doctrine, the first-time director Luis Puenzo is simply committed to human rights. Rather than dramatising the crimes of the dictatorship, the director has used a middle class family to tell subtly the sufferings of Argentinian society during the the years of dirty war. Thousands of people really were murdered in Argentina and the country has still not got over the nightmare suffered under the dictatorship. Military officers involved in killings are even now brought to justice, the efforts to identify potential children of the ‘desaparecidos’ are still ongoing and the scars have not healed yet. I'm not sure if that kind of trauma can ever be healed...

Another Year

Directed by Mike Leigh

UK 2010

Mike Leigh’s customary blend of well observed, wonderfully acted human dramas are an acquired taste and "Another Year" is definitely not for Mike Leigh beginners. It's long, it's depressing, and has virtually no narrative. It would be difficult to imagine anyone calling it an enjoyable experience...

A stunning opening vignette features Imelda Staunton, as a coarse, unsmiling woman, tersely fencing off a medical counsellor who's been trying to get to the bottom of her insomnia. "On a scale of one to 10 how happy would you say you are?" the patient states briefly: "One." "If you could change one thing that would make your life better, what would it be?” "Different life" replies the grim-faced Staunton. This sets the mood for entire movie in which feeling of sadness is never really absent.

"Another Year" is an intimate drama about ordinary people: family-and-friends group portrait. Its central figures are Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri (Ruth Sheen), a happily and longtime married upper middle-class London couple, who have entered late middle age content with their lives, fulfilled in their careers (he is a geologist, she a mental health counsellor), serene about the thought of imminent retirement and devoted to their allotment. Beyond some joking concern that their 30-year-old son Joe (Oliver Maltman) is still single, they live in complete happiness. They’re also social creatures. They like to grow things, then cook and serve them to friends and relatives with a nice glass of wine. It’s their interaction with others that Leigh focuses on, mostly in their home, over their kitchen table. Together they form an island of sanity, stability and calm amid an unsettled circle of their friends, whose lives have not gone so smoothly.

Tom and Gerri's home has become a a place of refuge for lost and damaged souls. No one depends more on these two than Mary (Lesley Manville), a secretary in the GP's office where Gerri works, who's been a family friend for years. She’s single and unhappy, with a traumatic love history, but tries to hide her insecurity through talking a great deal, wishful thinking, delusions about her age and most of all alcohol. Mary emerges as the film’s great tragedy, the embodiment of Gerri’s comment: ‘Life’s not always kind, is it?’ She has made mistakes in her life - a bad marriage in her twenties, a failed affair with a married man a decade later - she has lost the most valuable years, now becoming more and more desperate, panicked at being alone forever. Her presence turns ‘Another Year’ from a study of contentment into a portrait of loneliness and longing. Mary tests the patience of both her friends and viewers, bringing us to the limits of compassion when she developes a somewhat desperate and hopeless fantasy of having a relationship with the couple's thirty-year-old son Joe, which cause her temporarily exile from their welcoming house.

"Another Year" is structured into four sections, each named after a season, each having its own particular narrative line. Different seasons are portrayed convincingly, from the bright spring and summer colours to the cold winter greys accompanying the bleak mood. It's a typical character driven film with very little to speak of in terms of plot. Through Tom and Gerri, as the year passes, we meet other characters. Some, we encounter briefly, such as Gerri’s depressed patient from opening scene; others, we come to know better. There is no climax, just passing of different seasons and people. Leigh warmly observes a married couple and their relations with family and friends. Apart from profoundly lonely divorcee Mary there is Ken, Tom's lifelong friend, who visits them every now and then. Like Mary, he's lonely and relies too much on booze. Later on, we meet Ronnie, Tom’s older brother, a quiet, bereaved man, a world away in experience and aura from his sibling, trying to cope with his wife's death and the emotional assaults of his son. Ronnie's affliction is a chronic inability to connect with people, evidenced in the monosyllabic miserliness of his chat.

But it is Mary’s plight that takes centre stage. Her inclination to drink increases, her tics become more visible and her behaviour erratic and distressed. She's superficially cheerful, but parasitically dependent on her friends, and putting a tragically unconvincing brave face on the awful way her personal life is turning out. When Joe brings home and introduces everyone to his chatty and easygoing girlfriend Katie later in the year, it’s almost like a slap in the face. Leigh shows how Gerri and Tom's patience with Mary is running very low after she become antagonistic with Katie. It’s not that Mary actually thought she and Joe would someday wed, but the realization that even the flirtation is now over has taken one of the few remaining elements of joy from her life.

The scenes featuring Mary are subtle. There are no operatic explosions of fury and anger, just awkward and uncomfortable exchanges. It is not easy to watch her, as she embarrasses herself, reveals too much and drinks herself into a stupor. Even Tom and Gerri have a limits of niceness. But it's to Mary that Leigh keeps returning with sympathy and without inspiring scorn. While not technically the lead character, Mary’s depression and declining state become the main focus, emphasized by the film’s incredibly haunting final shot.

I found “Another Year” an intelligent, deeply compassionate drama. Leigh says something about life that nobody really wants to believe: there is such a thing as "too late." Leigh depicts characters at the point in life when all the bills for all their mistakes are coming due, and he shows how sometimes there's just nothing to be done. Some problems can't be solved. Some emotional pain can't be alleviated, only managed.

To say that the film has no real plot is to miss the point completely. The characters ARE the plot. “Another Year” is a film about regret, fear, loneliness and isolation. It's about depression, specifically late-middle-age depression, even though its two most central characters are, paradoxically, a long- and happily-married couple. Ultimately, Tom and Gerri, with their comfortable lives, serve only as the entry point to these much darker themes.

A little warning: the film does move at a very slow pace, taking time to develop characters. Some scenes tend to go on for too long. There are some light and funny moments, but this is by no means a comedy. It may not be everyone’s idea of a good time at the movies but sometimes powerful art is not necessarily comforting, entertaining, or relaxing to watch.

The Scent of the Green Papaya

Directed by Tran Anh Hung
France/Vietnam, 1993

Relying more on tone and feel rather than on plot, and focusing more on moments than characters, “The Scent of Green Papaya” shows a glimpse of life in Vietnam prior to the country being torn by war and revolution. It captures astonishingly the grace and beauty of a bygone era.

“The Scent of Green Papaya” is a simple tale of two periods in the life of a peasant Vietnamese girl named Mui (Lu Man San at the age of 10; Tran Nu Yen-Khe, the director's real-life fiancée at age of 20). The first section takes place in 1951 and shows Mui, a young, poor Vietnamese country girl as she leaves her family (whom we never see), and arrives at the troubled house of well- off merchant family in Saigon, where she will spend the next ten years of her life working as a servant. As Mui grows and the family's fortunes fade. In 1961, the 20-year-old Mui is still content working in same household, but due family's financial problems, they have to release her from the service, and she ends up working for Khuyen, bourgeois pianist and composer, long time family friend, whom she has secretly adored since childhood. She has known this man ever since they both were children. He was the playmate of her employer's son.
Now, sophisticated Francophile and Western-thinker, he and Mui find themselves engaged in a mutual seduction. With only the minimum of dialogue, this classic Cinderella-like story is a sensual, visually delicious film.

The early scenes show Mui’s introduction to new place, as she learns to cook and perform her chores, and as the youngest son of her new employer's besets her. Mui’s character remains relatively mute as she observes the world around her. Through her eyes, we witness the day-to-day activities of the household and understand the way it works. Mui is teached to perform her duties by the old servant, who carefully shows her how to prepare the papaya (traditionally woman's work) and answers all the child's curious questions about the household. Her life are centered on the kitchen, and a vegetable garden.The child will serve the meals, clean the house, wash the clothes, and run errands. While Mui adapts effortlessly to her responsibilities, doing her chores in an unobtrusive manner, the merchant family doesn't do so well. Early on, she learns that her new masters have lost the only daughter named Tó, who would have been just about Mui's age, so over the time, the mother becomes especially fond of her, as Mui becomes like a daughter for her. The mother, perpetually bereaved, runs the family textile business and silently suffers abandonment. The father, a self-centered man of dubious integrity, has a history of womanizing and disappearing for long periods with all his family's savings. That provokes two youngest sons to act out their anger and behave unruly. Mourning grandmother never leaves her upstairs bedroom/prayer altar and blames the the women, her son wife, for his absences. Yet all this unhappiness and impoverishment is beneath the surface, hidden from direct view.

The film is about everyday spirituality from an Eastern perspective. Mui, as a young girl, has learned the art of stopping the world. For her, there is beauty in the smallest details. She savours the sunlight through the green leaves outside the window, the scent of green papaya, the drop of water trembling on a leaf and looks with wonder at ants carrying a heavy load. From a gentle, grandfatherly neighbour she learned the ability to love from a distance. Mui is a sweet girl with a radiant smile, someone who finds satisfaction in life, even working as a poor servant.

It's a stunning first feature, even though it moves very very slowly and the acting is uneven. The second part of the film pales in comparison to part one, and that is because the innocent and cute Mui as a child is the glue that holds the film together and make it so special. The older Mui isn't as impressive, she doesn't radiate the same warmth on the screen. Tran Nu Yen-Khe's body language seems odd and inappropriate to the circumstances. The use of sound effects is excellent, in a film with so little dialogue, music and sound effects become critical contributors. What “The Scent of Green Papaya” does so well is showing the lost Vietnam, peaceful and orderly place not yet touched by wartime and everyday life of a traditional culture that, has been bombed into history. Ironically, “The Scent of Green Papaya” was filmed entirely on a sound stage in Paris. Everything we see is a set. The director, Anh Hung Tran (born in Vietnam but relocated and educated in France) undoubtedly found it impossible to make a film of this type in today's Vietnam, which is hardly nostalgic for the colonial era. "The Scent of Green Papaya" is a quiet, sensuous, apolitical, slow-paced film which makes it a point to clearly detail the everyday existence in the Vietnam that no longer exists, if ever existed at all...

Baran

Directed by Majid Majidi
Iran 2001

Iranian screenwriter-director Majid Majidi is best known for his 1998 feature debut, “Children of Heaven”, that became the first Iranian film to be nominated for a Best Foreign Language Film Oscar. "Baran" is just as beautiful.

The movie deals with Afghani refugees in Iran. It's 2001 and large number of them is living on the outskirts of Tehran due to the war with Russia and then the oppressive Taliban's regime. Most of Afghan men are working illegally at the construction sites, obviously for far less wages than the Iranian workers. A building site is an unusual location for a love story but here it is - the story of Lateef and his silent romantic interests in an Afghan refugee.

Lateef (Hossein Abedini), the young Azeri Iranian, is having an easy time at the construction site with the job of serving tea and preparing food for other workers. The workers come from all parts of Iran, many of them are refugees from war torn Afghanistan. They have no identity card and are employed illegally as cheap labor. When the labour inspectors show up, the Afghan workers must hide. Day after Najaf, one of illegal Afghan workers falls from the building and is seriously injured, appears his adolescent son – Rahmat (Hossein Abedini). He was send to fill in, since his father is unable to work with a broken leg and he has many children to take care of. Rahmat is small and weak, unable to do heavy manual work at the construction site. He's constantly dropping the heavy loads of concrete, which never seem to end up anywhere. Eventually, the contractor, Memar switches the boys, putting Rahmat on kitchen duty and forcing the infuriated Lateef to take up the heavy lifting. Lateef is sore about losing his comfy job and continuously torments Rahmat. He does everything in his power to sabotage his rival until the day when, after one of his pranks, he learns by accident that Rahmat is actually a girl. Latif's heart softens, he's really sorry about his early acts and starts to be very protective gradually falls in love with Rahmat.. He's doing what he can to ease the hardships the girl suffers at work and is trying to save her from the inspectors. One day, however, during a surprise visit of the labour inspectors, they find themselves face to face with Rahmat. She panics and runs away as they chase her through the city streets. Lateef runs after them, struggles with the inspectors, allowing Rahmat to flee. After this accident the government inspectors force Memar to fire all Afghans from the site. Lateef takes a leave and spends some time tracking the girl down. Eventually he find out where she stays and spies her from afar while she's working in harsh conditions, pulling large rocks from and icy cold river. He becomes increasingly fascinated by the immigrant's life and history, also learning her real name – Baran (apparently “rain” in Persian).

Many would assume the principal subject of the film would be the female protagonist Baran. But the film turns out to be a tale about the man who falls in love with Baran rather than about Baran herself. It traces the gradual change in the male character Lateef before and after falling in love with the girl and his maturing into one that cares more for others less fortunate than himself. He gives away all his accumulated salaries and in the end he even sells his most valued possession, the ID-card, to give Rahamat's family enough money to go back to Afghanistan. Majidi does not tell his story through plot and dialogue as much as by simply observing the behaviour of his characters and through stark, yet beautiful images. Baran is almost a silent movie: woman lead actor does not speak a word throughout entire movie. It's so quite and understated, yet leaves such an impact.

Baran is a love story but for me it runs in the background. It's better to forget about obvious love tale and concentrate on details, perfectly crafted, that tell another, perhaps more interesting story, helping to understand world history better - Soviet Union's attack on Afghanistan and the life of Afghans after the invasion was over. It also shows the ethnic differences within the Iranian population and Teheran itself as the mosaic of ethnicity. The construction site brings the different ethnicities together. The Persian Iranians play the Inspectors, the Azeris bond together and take care of each other, the Kurds and the Lurs are easily provoked to fight the Azeris, while the poor Afghans, without identity papers, toil away for a fraction of what the others earn always fearing deportation if spotted by the Persian Iranian inspectors. The official website of Baran explains the details.

Baran is indeed a powerful story of unselfish love. Lateef took a desperate measures to get money, only to learn that thanks to this, Najaf and his family will returning to Afghanistan and most probably he will never see Baran again. Although Majidi made "Baran" before the terrible events of autumn 2001, the movie is uncannily well-timed. This is also why the end is so incredibly disturbing. In a way it's a positive thing that Baran and her family can return to their homeland, especially that in Iran they were always a second class citizens, hardly allowed to leave the refugee's camps. On the other hand something about seeing the girl as she's about to leave Iran, fully covering herself with burkha (a tent-like garment that covers the women from head-to-foot), instead of usual scarf she was wearing before, made me deeply sad and wondering what is worst... Staying in a country where as a foreigner you don't have any rights or staying in your own country (still under Taliban's rule) where as a women you don't have them anyway?

(500) Days of Summer

Directed by Marc Webb
USA 2009

I must admit - I am not very familiar with US cinematography. Not that I have something against it, I simply find movies form other countries more exiting. But every now and then I stumble upon something that truly amaze me. My way to find interesting films is a little information that certain movie was screened at Sundance Film Festival. Most of the times it works perfectly and this is how I found this gem.


We are warn straight from the beginning that “This is Not A Love Story”, even thought everything seems like it is going to be one. But despite the forewarning we are given, “(500) Days of Summer” is a love story. It may not be the typical one or follow the conventional “predictable romantic comedy” plot devices, but it is still a movie about love. The difference is that is actually quite smart. In the way the plot is pretty much the cliché: boy meets a girl, boy falls in love with girl, girl breaks up with boy, boy has his heart broken, boy gets over girl, boy starts new life. Simple, and one very true to life formula but I really love the new angle this issues are portrayed. This indie movie really took the simple fact of life to a new level by the narration and the cinematography. The arrangement of the plot was superb! It's a refreshingly different take on relationship, and apart from ridiculously melodramatic quitting scene, not at all predictable. This obligatory-happy ending is the only weak point of the movie, apart from it “(500) Days of Summer” is a pure joy!

In a style reminiscent of Annie Hall, “(500) Days of Summer” tells the story of Tom Hansen (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), a failed architect who makes a living by writing greetings cards, as he reflects back on his relationship with the quirky, independent and allergic to commitment Summer (Zooey Deschanel). Tom is totally in love and fully believes that she is The One. She is attractive. She likes the same music as he does. Summer, on the other hand, is the product of divorced parents that doesn’t believe in love or fate and keeps relationships casual. As the title indicates, this fresh and creative script jumps us back and forth in time through the 500 days of their relationship. That number defines the beginning, middle and end of Tom and Summer - as the film so boldly tells us right up front that that she will break his heart. In non-linearly way, from day 42 to day 1 to day 387 and so on, we are observing changes that happen over the course of a relationship, as Tom is reliving every moment to try and figure out where it all went wrong. We see them break up, then we see them meet, then we see them falling apart, then we see them falling in love. It’s a genuinely interesting take on the narration. I particularly love the idea that Tom works as a copywriter for a greeting card company, so you can imagine how the words on the cards vary according to which stage of the relationship he’s in. I also love the part where the "expectation" and the "reality" scenes were placed next to each other for comparison. Director Marc Webb uses some amusing techniques (a split-screen technique to tell us about their lives in parallel, animation, musical dance number and a hilarious tribute to European cinema) not only to give the film its “indie-ness” but also to show how Tom is experiencing things. Surrealistic visual touches, the awesome soundtrack and incredibly charming characters make this movie as close to perfect as a movie gets.

The movie isn’t flawless though. I've already mentioned the ending, that seems a bit too contrived in contrast to the very real feelings portrayed throughout the rest of the movie. Tom's anti-sentiment rant during an work meeting, when he attacks his colleagues for peddling lies and then resigns out of moral indignation, is a bit too bombast. Also Tom's little sister Rachel (Chloe Moretz), an exceptionally insightful child with social wisdom that couldn’t be explained by her time on this earth, from whom he receives counsel, is charming but sometimes her wisdom is a little bit too much:)

The film is about admitting that sometimes people just aren’t meant to be together in the end. It's as truthful a documentation of love and heartbreak you’ll find on celluloid, an anti-fairytale that plays with the idea of a single soulmate and eternal happiness. It doesn't say anything new about boy meets girl problems, instead, it wins over its audience with a style.

“(500) Days of Summer” is not “Annie Hall” but even if it's not A Great Movie, it's still a thoughtful, bittersweet, subtle, charming and irresistible little film, which you will surely want to see again.

Memories of Underdevelopment

Memories of Underdevelopment

Memorias del Subdesarrollo

Directed by Tomás Gutiérrez Alea

Cuba 1968

As the revolution itself, the creation of the Instituto Cubano de la Industria Cinematográfica (ICAIC— Cuban Film Institute) on March 24, 1959, changed everything on Cuba. Since then (only two months and three weeks after the beginning of the revolution) all matters involving film were concentrated in ICAIC. The words “Film is an art,” written in the original declaration that established ICAIC as a revolutionary institution, set the stage for the high standards demanded of Cuban filmmaking. Cuban cinematography, especially during the mythic years of the first decade of the triumphant revolution, has been characterized by high artistic level and loyalty to the revolution, while at the same time reflecting the contradictions and problems of the national reality.

Director Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, the most renowned director of Castro-era Cuba (famous for making Cuba’s first gay-themed movie, 1993’s Strawberry and Chocolate), was a middle-class university-educated Cuban but still a devoted supporter of the revolution and somebody who did his work in the pay of the state. He went along with revolution despite some of the doubts about emerging bureaucratism. His Memories of Underdevelopment stands as one of the best examples of Cuban artists' independence and efforts to create whole new forms for political art. Of all the dozens of films produced in Cuba in first decade of revolution, through Castro's insistence on the importance of the cinema, this film is the most sophisticated. So much so, in fact, that those opposed to the revolution called it a magnificent and unrepeatable fluke, that seems to look on actually successful revolution with dejection and frustration. Those in favour cherished it as a landmark that avoided almost all of the radical cliches. Since he supported revolution we can presume that Alea wanted us to see the fate that befalls someone who does not directly endorse revolutionary activities, but he was far more than a mere propagandist and to most of the viewers the film has mixed messages.

Memories of Underdevelopment, hailed as one of the finest films ever to come out of Cuba, details the relation between the personal and the political, and intellectual's alienation within a changing, proletarian society. Historically, the time is very specific; its 1961 and the film is placed between the exodus after the disastrous US-led Bays of Pigs invasion and the missile crisis of the following year. Alea based his work on the novel of Edmundo Desnoes (published in English as INCONSOLABLE MEMORIES), the diary of a bourgeois intellectual that has literally stayed behind the revolution, a story about an isolated man in an isolated country.

The main character of the movie Sergio (Sergio Corrieri) is not a typical face for Cuban Revolution, which was praising simple hard-working people, poor farmers from remote areas, neglected under the previous system people of colour. The contrast between him and Cuban masses is underlined in the shots of the Cuban people on the street and particularly at the dance at the beginning of the film. That moment establishes a sense of race in the movie, we can see that Sergio, a tall, middle-aged, fair man who looks like a gringo and is deliberately shown as very white against his background - something that is easily noticeable for Latin American audience, as skin colour is often an index of class there. It seems that Alea deliberately used such a fair protagonist to emphasize in visual terms this middle class and intellectual's alienation from the people. Sergio simply doesn't belong to “pueblo”, he's a wealthy man who thinks of himself as Europeanized. For reasons that he cannot quite explain ("to see how it all turns out"), he chooses to remain in post–revolution Cuba even as his mother, father, wife and most of the friends flee to Miami. But he stays in the new Cuba drifting along without meaning and purpose. Unable to write the novel he wants, he spends his days smoking in bed, looking out of a telescope through his window, taking walks, chases women. Alea shows him living untroubled and alone in luxury, in an apartment that could have housed a family or two. We learn that his income comes from monthly state payments for a building of his which had been confiscated, payments he will receive for several years more. The film focuses on Sergio's thoughts and experiences as he is confronted by the new reality and uncertain mood of Havana just after the revolution. He is fundamentally an alienated, indifferent towards politics, an observer rather than a participant. He is, in fact, the sort of man with whom we can easily identify from our experience of European films and literature. The difference is that he is placed in exceptional circumstances and finds it difficult to understand them. Memories is one of the best films ever made about the sceptical individual's place in the march of history.

Sergio prides himself on his urbanity (significantly, Memories of Underdevelopment is thoroughly urban - set in Havana, in Sergio's opinion once "the Paris of the Caribbean", now the "Tegucigulpa") and is obsessed with Cuba's underdevelopment. But to see and criticize Sergio as bourgeois is too easy. Sergio is not one who flees to the United States. He has an acute intellect and sees much that is true about Cuba and especially is very aware about himself. He's scornful of his bourgeois family and friends, he rejects most of the Cubans of his class, his wife Laura and his friend Pablo especially, as superficial, greedy, and self-deceiving. But he also rejects the naivety of those who believe that everything can suddenly be changed and he doesn't commit himself to revolution. A key prop in the film is a telescope installed on the porch of his apartment. Early in the film Sergio looks through it at a couple making love. At the end of the film he looks down on the mobilization for the missile crisis, in which the whole of Havana is unified in the face of impending destruction. Even this moment reveals Sergio's paralysis. His tragedy is that he can only dimly understand what part he plays in the situation he finds himself in and he remains a passive player, unable to act in history.

The film moves back and forth through time, since Sergio turns frequently to his memories to try to understand what is happening to him. Because of the documentary footage, the revolution is always in the background. The difficulty and allure of “Memories of underdevelopment” lies in its stylistic eclecticism and formal experimentalism. This film unites various narrative strategies, blending fiction, still photography and rare documentary footage. Those documentary sequences interspersed throughout the film have no apparent connection to the narrative but show that no one living in revolutionary Cuba is able to escape the presence of history. The revolution is omnipresent.

Women are another obsession of Sergio. He thinks of Cuban women as intellectually and culturally underdeveloped and feels the urge to dominate and manipulate them. He has an affair with a young woman, Elena, whom he picks up on the street and whom he tries to educate by taking to bookstores, modern art galleries and museums in order to expose her to culture and model her to fit his ideal of the bourgeois Cuban woman. But at one point he reflects, "I discovered Elena didn't think as much as I did. I try to live as a European and she makes me feel the underdevelopment at every step." He regards her as a primitive: "She doesn't relate to things," he tells himself. Like other Cuban women has an "inability to accumulate experience, to develop.” Sergio's constantly devaluates Cuban women. But Alea doesn's show Elena and her family up as idealized examples of the Cuban people, dignified or even right. Whereas Sergio is wrong to think of Elena as underdeveloped in the way he does, taking her to museums to improve her mind, Elena, representative of “pueblo” doesn't have revolutionary goals either. Indeed the whole wit of the sequences with Elena's family comes from the inappropriateness of their actions in a presumably revolutionary society. As they blackmail Sergio, they acting out what would have been their best defence in that situation under previous system, but they are doing so in a post-revolutionary time. The film show this family's treating a female child as property. Elena is depicted as victimized both by Sergio and by her family, to which victimization she acquiesces.

Although directed by a Cuban who supported the revolution and remained in Cuba until his death, the film has a European sensibility, interlacing fiction and documentary footage and using poetic images, literary narration, flashbacks, and newsreel footage reminiscent of Alain Resnais' Hiroshima Mon Amour. Memories is a complex and probing film about the dilemma faced by intellectuals in Cuba following the revolution. What should intellectuals do if they are sympathetic to socialism? How do they "join" the working class? According to some reviewers, that the film does not answer this question is one of its main strengths, saving the film from dogmatism. The self and society, private life and historical situation—this is the core of the film and it portray this relationship powerfully. Memories of Underdevelopment remains quite difficult and enigmatic but tremendous work.

Z

Directed by Costa-Gavras

France 1969

Winner of two Oscars in 1970 (for best foreign picture, best editing) and awards at Cannes in 1969 Z is the film that took the world by storm. Even today, is still highly regarded as one of the strongest films about political intrigue yet constructed. Z is a stunningly filmed political thriller with a complex criminal investigation at the heart but with unique political commitment that would define its director career.

There is an unusual "disclaimer" at the beginning of Z that says, "Any similarity to actual events or persons living or dead is not coincidental. It is intentional." And although location of the action is never specified (the film itself was made in Algeria), there are hints that it is Greece in the early 1960s. The film is based on the novel by Vassili Vassilikos and parallels the real life assassination in 1963 of Gregorios Lambrakis, a popular public figure known for his left-wing views. Not that this really matters since the right wing extremists, political assassinations and governmental cover-ups can universally apply to many countries and situations. Costa-Gavras eloquently captured the chaotic and violent nature of the political unrest prevalent in the 1960s.

Z begins with a right wing political meeting, we hear officials talking about preventing the "a mildew of the mind" of its youth following the "beatniks and pacifists"; and all sorts of "-isms"—socialism, anarchism, imperialism, and communism, that are infecting the country. They declare that they must "preserve the healthy parts of society" and inoculate their youth with proper thinking.They do however have a strong opposition with a popular leader, the Deputy (Yves Montand), a pacifist former Olympic champion, who is a practicing doctor and University professor, and an honest politician. He is favoured to win the coming election, and has caught the attention of the press, represented by the photojournalist (Jacques Perrin). As the Deputy arrives to an unnamed town to give a speech advocating nuclear disarmament, its organizers are fighting a battle against the government officials, who have conspired to close off the largest available speaking hall and instead offered a much smaller one. As logistical problems are appearing out of nowhere it is obvious that there have been attempts to prevent the speech's delivery. The tension mounts and angry crowd surrounds the meeting hall, together with local thugs hired to cause trouble among Deputy's followers. To maintain the peace are a large police force, but they mysteriously stand at attention and prevent nothing, not even when the Deputy is attacked as he enters the hall. "Why do the ideas we hold provoke such violence," he asks. "Why is peace so intolerable to them?" After giving his speech Deputy is attacked again. As he crosses the street from the hall, a delivery truck speeds past him and a man strikes him down with a club. The injury eventually proves fatal.

This is when Z becomes most interesting. It is already clear to the viewer that the police forced the conclusion that the victim was simply run over by a drunk driver. But Costa-Gavras organizes the material brilliantly to maintain interest, gradually revealing new layers of intrigue. The government's attempts to cover up the assassination are investigated by a sharp-eyed journalist and a magistrate (Jean-Louis Trintigant) determined to uncover the truth. Slowly and heroically they gather sufficient evidence to prove widespread government complicity and indict not only the two right-wing militants who committed the murder, but also four high-ranking military police officers. Along the way are some especially humorous moments that show the idiocy of the radical right wing.

But then comes the most traumatic finale. Instead of the expected positive outcome, the prosecutor is mysteriously removed from the case, key witnesses die under suspicious circumstances, the assassins, though convicted of murder, receive (relatively) short sentences, the officers receive only administrative reprimands, the Deputy's close associates die or are deported, and the photojournalist is sent to prison for disclosing official documents. The strength of the military dictatorship is stronger and the fear of the unknown prevails. As the closing credits roll, there's a list the things banned by the junta. This is when, at the very end, the viewer learns the significance of the film's title, and it is memorable.