Amour (2012)

Michael Haneke’s “Amour” took best film honors at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. his second Palme D’or, after 2009’s “The White Ribbon.”

I saw the latter in the theatre, and found it to be, while thoroughly interesting and well directed, lacking in the emotional “umph!” I’d hoped for. I found it stolid, and also somewhat slow, which usually doesn’t bother me. “Ribbon” was pretty deliberate, even for me. Still, I’m glad I saw it, and had fairly high expectations for “Amour.”

The most succinct way I can describe “Amour” is “calm” and “patient.” And maybe “simply truthful,” too.

The film’s set mainly in the Paris apartment of an elderly couple Anne (Emanualle Riva) and Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant). At the start, we see a vital couple, going out to piano concerts, riding the bus home, and generally enjoying the cultural offerings of city living.

At first we see a vibrant older couple, going out for a night on the town to the theatre. They are elderly, yet still spry enough to ride public transportation home.

One morning over breakfast, Anne unexpectedly goes blank mid-conversation. Georges is so taken off guard, he thinks it’s a prank. But it’s not. After a couple of minutes Anne becomes lucid again, but has no memory of what just occurred.

It becomes clear that Anne is terminally ill, and will too-quickly deteriorate.

The bulk of the film takes place in their Paris apartment. It shows Georges patience, kindness, and loyal commitment, as he tenderly caring for his wife as she loses abilities most of us take for granted: feeding ourselves, bathing, going to the bathroom, getting dressed.

Anne, too, is tremendously selfless, despite her circumstances. She knows the end of life rarely seems to have much dignity. Because she loves him so, she doesn’t want her worsening condition to burden Georges, as it inevitably must. It’s all heart-rending to watch.

Friends and family members arrive, seeming to pay their respects while Anne is still living. Their daughter, in particular, voices strong opinions about the care Anne should receive, who should provide it. Through it all, Georges’ gentle love and compassion is a rock, both to his wife and, I believe, himself. He is a good man, doing what any of us would like to believe we would, during a loved one’s time of dire need.

I found “Amour” far more touching and emotionally resonant that “White Ribbon.” The bond Georges and Anne share is inspiring. Over he decades, their relationship hasn’t soured and become jaded over time, but instead deepened and grown more rewarding. To call them (and the film) sweet doesn’t go nearly far enough. I was moved more than a little by their love, and this film.

Kinyarwanda (2011)

Kinyarwanda

Let’s put it out there, up front: “Kinyarwanda” (2011) is one of the best films I’ve seen in a long time. It won best dramatic film at both the Sundance and AFI film festivals, as well as being listed by late film-critic Roger Ebert as one of his top ten films of the year.

“Kinyarwanda” is the native language of Rwanda. It’s a country that lives in the minds of most Americans as a place in constant strife, rife with genocidal violence. “Kinyarwanda” (the film) depicts a land that deserves more than some of that reputation.

The film tells the story of several villagers—some young, some old—set against the backdrop of near-constant ethnically-driven violence.

In the Rwanda portrayed in “Kinyarwanda,” the Tutsi-Hutu conflict pervades every part of life. It is a place where a simple late-night walk can turn into a life-and-death situation in a moment. Radios blare endlessly with hate speech, spreading fear and suspicion, the opposition considered “cockroaches.”

The film follows the lives of a young couple, a priest, a pair of soldiers, as well as former militia fighters, showing how each tries to survive the present and reconcile the past, while precariously navigating such a chaotic world. Safety seems a distant notion.

The film is creatively constructed: it isn’t told in a linear style, but instead made up of several stories interspersed. The story jumps back and forth, flashing forward and back, however it’s not confusing in the least. This triumph of story-telling  technique is a credit to writer/director Alrick Brown.

Kinyarwanda’s strength is that it feels emotionally truthful. It’s touching without being melodramatic. The characters’ rich stories are honest and realistic, rather than the emotionally-manipulative creations of an imaginative writer. Their unique situations are patiently drawn, but the movie isn’t slow.

You may notice this review intentionally omits any description of the film’s story. Its plot is entertaining, but I don’t want to reveal too much. Doing so would rob the film of some of its inherent suspense, and emotional power.

Honestly, I wasn’t all that excited to see this film, at first. I’ve seen “Hotel Rwanda,” the documentary “Long Night’s Journey Into Day” (about post-apartheid South Africa’s “Truth and Reconciliation Councils” trying to come to grips with the horrible crimes of that era), and presumed this would be another well-intentioned, earnest story about good, decent people living under impossible circumstances. “Kinyarwanda” is so much more.

See this film. You will like it more than you expect. Writing the review, remembering all the kindness, violence, joy, sadness, forgiveness and ultimately hope that this film contains, has made me want to, again.

Retreat (2011)

A mid-30s-ish, British, yuppie couple go on holiday to a remote island cottage, ostensibly to rekindle their struggling relationship. The locale is so isolated that they are the only ones on the entire island. To get there, they must be ferried from the mainland. The dwelling’s only power comes from a decrepit generator in the basement. The cottage’s walls are feet thick, its roof made of moss. There is nothing, and no one, around.

Kate (Thandie Newton; “Crash,” “RocknRolla,”) is a journalist, in the middle of writing a very personal article on her laptop. Her husband Martin (Cillian Murphy; “Batman Begins,” “Sunshine,” “Perrier’s Bounty,” “Intermission”) is an architect, who suffers with a slight case of asthma. They’re smart, good looking, and seem well intentioned. We like them immediately.

The tension between them is instantly evident, and seemingly growing. He invites her for a walk, and she tersely declines, deciding instead to focus on her writing. He jogs alone on the beach, and chops firewood. Though together, the pair seem as alone isolated as their location.

Gazing out an upstairs window, Kate’s startled to discover that they’re not alone: She’s sees a man staggering along one of the island’s paths, who ultimately collapses. They immediately run out to see what’s happened.

What they discover appears to be a young military officer (played by “Billy Elliot’s” Jamie Bell), bloodied an unconscious. They bring him back to the cottage, and leave him resting on the couch.

When the cranky generator blows, and CB radio stops working, the trio are cut-off from the outside world.

Who is this stranger? How’d he get here? What does he want? Why’s he bloody and out cold? 

So begins “Retreat,” the 2011 film made by first-time director Carl Tibbetts.

“Retreat” left me feeling ambivalent. On one hand, the film contains scenes of genuine suspense, where we’re unsure of characters’ motives, and whom exactly to trust. It covers similar ground to Peckinpah’s “Straw Dogs,” where men are judged as either physical and brutish, or evolved and civilized, yet neutered. Likewise, themes of a small group banding together for survival against a potentially hostile and unforgiving outside world, echo Murphy’s earlier breakthrough film “28 Days Later.”

The visuals of the film are interesting and compelling. The cottage itself is creepy, rather than quaint and charming. Its isolation claustrophobic and disquieting. Also, the blustery island locale is dreary and imposing. This film feels cold and damp. If we could smell it, we’d smell dankness, sea spray and mildew.

The acting, too, is all first-rate, as well. Bell, in particular, conveys alternating moods of menace and sympathy. Murphy always manages to capture an empathic “everyman” quality worth rooting for. Newton’s version of a fragile woman struggling against something unspoken, yet emotionally heavy, feels perhaps a touch too ambitious for a suspense/thriller like this.

On the other hand, there are premises here that preposterously implausible. To reveal them would give away too many of the film’s secrets. Suffice to say that things happen which are highly unlikely. Characters behave in ways that few of us ever would. And the finale comes out of nowhere, raising more questions than it answers.

Despite it’s flaws, I'm not disappointed I saw “Retreat” (though I am that it wasn’t as good as it might’ve been). The initial conceit is original and thoughtful. It’s moody, atmospheric and well-paced throughout its brisk 90 minutes. There were times while watching when I thought “this is going to turn out to be a really terrific movie.” Though it wasn’t that, it wasn’t bad, either. Probably best described as “one of the better just-short-of-three-stars-out-of-five movies I’ve seen in a while.” Though not a ringing endorsement, you could do worse.  

Basquiat (1996)

Jeffrey Wright as Basquait, at work in his studio.

“What is art?”

It’s a question I don’t have an articulate answer for. Perhaps the best I can do is “something that makes one think and might, on rare occasions, even elicit an emotional response?” Maybe that’s a long-winded way of saying “I know it when I see it?”

On the surface, “Basquiat” (directed by artist Julian Schnabal: “Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” “Before Night Falls”) examines a short part of the life of New York City graffiti artist and painter Jean-Michel Basquait. After living in a cardboard box in Thompkins Square Park, he became fabulously successful almost overnight. His success came not only because of his considerable talent, but also his incredibly fortunate timing, and a close association with style icon Andy Warhol. He was in the right place at the right time, surrounded by the right people.

But delve beneath the surface. It’s also an examination of the troubled lives many artists lead. Drug addiction. Searing, all-consuming ambition. Intimate relationships that fade. The inexplicable and nearly-instantaneous change of fortunes, based not on talent and hard work, but because of the fickle nature of ever-changing tastes, perception, conventional wisdom and prevailing opinions.

As Basquiat, a young Jeffrey Wright (recently “Dr. Narcisse” on HBO’s “Boardwalk Empire”) is mesmerizing. He captures completely the idiosyncrasies and eccentricities of the burgeoning artist. He possesses competing feelings of innocence and arrogance, hope, sometimes aimlessness, and self-destructive inner turmoil of an artist who goes swiftly from poverty and anonymity, to buying $3000 tins of caviar on a whim, all because he’s managed to become the darling of local taste makers.

The film isn’t just a biography of a troubled and talented young painter, but also an examination of the creative world in which he lived. What is art? Why are some works indescribably valuable, while others worthless? Where does this value come from, but some collection of opinions? Given the materials involved, why is a Picasso worth any more than a crayon children’s drawing? Similar to sports memorabilia, inanimate objects take on unimaginable value, based on little more than perceived worth.

I know little about the artist, or his work. What I learned from the film “Basquiat” is that in his brief lifetime, he went from struggle and poverty to the pinnacle of the New York contemporary-art world. Wikipedia informs me that his paintings are, or have been, owned by such celebrities as Metallica’s Lars Ulrich, Leonardo DiCaprio, tennis star John McEnroe, Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Jay Z. His works have been auctioned by the famed Christie’s and Sotheby’s houses, and have sold for over $13.5 million. In addition to Warhol, he also worked with David Bowie, early new-wave band Blondie, produced a hip-hop album, and dated Madonna. All in 27 years.

A persistent recreational-drug user, the title character also has an interesting innate sense of self-confidence. Watch how he approaches Warhol uninvited in a restaurant, interrupting the icon’s meal to solicit a sale, right his table. At the same time, try as he might to navigate the cynical, money-drenched erudite art scene, he’s constantly unsure of who his friends are, and who is just using him for fame, notoriety, fortune and celebrity. Agents and art dealers, drenched in ulterior motives and not-so-hidden agendas, swirl around Basquiat, trying to raise their own profiles (and bank balances), by association.

“Basquiat” isn’t so much concerned with what the mercurial artist accomplished during his brief but productive life (apparently his estate wouldn’t allow his actual works to be used in the film, so Schnabal re-created all the pieces himself), but instead about who he was not simply as an artist, but as person struggling to find direction. It examines the relationships he has before he gains fame, and how they are all mercilessly altered by his change in station. It’s also a critique of the art world itself, the blind greed and cut-throat avarice of dealers and gallery owners, and how this all plays out against a world of unimaginable money.

The romanticized stereotype of the desperate artist toiling namelessly, fighting against depression and anxiety, creating works of staggering genius, certainly describes the early life of Jean Michel Basquait. What happens to the artist’s depression and anxiety when fame and wealth replace anonymity and poverty?

Director Schnabel (along with costume designer John A. Dunn and art director C.J. Simpson) do an admirable job of recreating the shallow, greedy, superficial yet dynamic and high-energy New York art world of the early 80s. This art world feels believably real.

Along with Wright, Basquiat boasts an impressive supporting cast: Benecio Del Toro, Christopher Walken, Clare Forlani, Parker Posey, Courtney Love, Dennis Hopper, Gary Oldman, Michael Badalucco, Vincent Gallo, Tatum O'Neill, and David Bowie (as Warhol) all show up in interesting roles.

“Basquiat” has an elegiac tone. Its characters seem largely unhappy lost souls, searching for that something which might redeem their difficult lives. When the movie finished, I felt sad. Which isn’t a bad thing. The brevity of his life is a sad tale. But it’s also a story with several terrific, uplifting, hopeful moments. It is, I believe, art.