Water

Directed by Deepa Mehta Starring Seema Biswas, Lisa Ray and John Abraham

Reviewed by Martin Tsai

Following Fire (1996) and Earth (1998), director Deepa Mehta finally completes her acclaimed and controversial "elements" trilogy with Water. Mehta's devastating depictions of gender disparity and religious turmoil in India provoked right-wing Hindu fundamentalists to stage protests, ransack theatres, issue death threats and even force the shutdown of Water's production five years ago. The director went on to make the lightweight Bollywood/Hollywood and The Republic of Love before returning to Water - this time filming secretly in Sri Lanka.

Hindu holy texts dictate that a wife has only three options upon the death of her husband: She must either burn along with his remains, remarry his younger brother, or live the remainder of her life in self-denial. Set in Colonial-era India inside a house for spurned widows, Water continues the trilogy's exploration of the culture's unspoken and unchallenged hypocrisies.

Eight-year-old Chuyia (Sarala) doesn't recall ever marrying, but the passing of her husband nevertheless divests her of sari, jewelry, hair, parents, a normal childhood and the possibility of happiness. The wretchedness of the women who keep her company allows her to grasp the bleak existence ahead: Elderly Patiraji (Vidula Javalgekar) fritters away her last days craving some sweets. Obese Madhumati (Manorma) bitterly abuses everyone. Beneath her resilient exterior, Shakuntala (Seema Biswas of Bandit Queen) still tries to reconcile her faith with her predicament as a widow. Lovely Kalyani (Lisa Ray of Bollywood/Hollywood) gets to keep her locks only because she must work as a prostitute to support the household. Handsome and erudite Narayan (John Abraham) takes a liking to Kalyani, but her circumstances threaten to keep them apart.

With a story that recalls both Romeo and Juliet and A Little Princess, Water has the surface trappings of a timeless tale. But by using a child's perspective (à la Earth), a doomed romance, a dastardly villain and an unsettling tangent about coerced prostitution, the film often seems to drip with manipulation. Furthermore, it endlessly bludgeons the audience with disconcerting scenes of widows enduring taunts and discrimination. With all the tragic turns of events and the uniformly cardboard characters inundating the picture, Mehta unwittingly invites skepticism from wary viewers. Landing the coveted opening spots at five festivals across the country (Vancouver and Toronto included) and a high-profile American distribution deal with Fox Searchlight, Water is one of the most prodigious Canadian films of the year. Mehta's gallantry and determination deserve admiration, and her new work is certainly an eye-opener for outsiders. At the same time, it lacks the moral ambiguity and multidimensional characters of its two unforgettable predecessors.

Reprinted from WestEnder. © Copyright 2005 Martin Tsai. All rights reserved.

Desolation Sound

Directed by Scott Weber Starring Hélène Joy and Jennifer Beals

Reviewed by Martin Tsai

Remember those ads pitching British Columbia as "The Best Place on Earth"? No? Come on, roughly a million of our tax dollars went into those. Check out the Sunshine Coast-set film Desolation Sound for a reminder. A few establishing shots in this movie are enough to help bring back memories of the campaign that allegedly gave us the bragging rights we get for living in this province, the best place to sea-kayak and watch the orcas!

Desolation Sound goes on to reveal some shady goings-on amidst the quaint picturesque surroundings. Tweenager Margaret (Emily Hirst) walks on the roof in her sleep, yet her parents Laurel (Hélène Joy) and Michael (Ian Tracey) aren't in a hurry to fix the latch on her bedroom window. They also seem unfazed by her klepto tendencies and her playdates with creepy ex-con Benny (Lothaire Bluteau of Black Robe). Apparently dad is often away on wildlife photo shoots and mom is coping with painter's block.

The last thing they need is for evil Vancouverite Elizabeth (Jennifer Beals of Flashdance) to abruptly show up and wreck their home life. She’s a maniac, maniac, who takes her passion and makes it happen by foretelling her own impending death and confessing her tryst with Michael. No thanks to Margaret - who purloins her necklace and then does the rooftop somnambulist routine - Elizabeth and Laurel wind up tussling up there where Elizabeth soon slips and falls to her death. With Benny's help, Laurel buries the body underneath a rose garden and begins channeling her inner Elizabeth. She picks up smoking again, sleeps until 4 p.m., dyes her hair black, smears black paint all over canvases, and bangs Sheriff Doug Shepard (Ed Begley Jr.) when Michael's gone.

Will Laurel get caught? Is she innocent? Is she possessed? Will she spew green vomit and throw Doug out the window? Should we care? Not likely, since she's not a particularly identifiable protagonist. First-time director Scott Weber is so busy planting bread crumbs along the story's trail, he simply forgets about developing characters and brewing suspense. He goes through the motions by cramming as much as he can into 100 minutes, so even the beautiful Sunshine Coast scenery only flashes across the screen for a few seconds at a time. Screenwriter Glynis Davies - who also appears on screen as shopkeeper/Doug's wife/Laurel's yoga partner and hairdresser Kathy - dumps a pile of ill-fitting puzzle pieces onto the plot. Since she doesn't divulge these hints with any subtlety, the film has no surprise to speak of. The amateurish filmmaking explains why Desolation Sound first premiered on American cable television in June. Why it merited a spot at last month's Vancouver International Film Festival and why it's now getting a Canadian theatrical release are the movie's only mysteries.

Reprinted from WestEnder. © Copyright 2005 Martin Tsai. All rights reserved.

Stay

Directed by Marc Forster
Starring Ewan McGregor, Naomi Watts and Ryan Gosling

Reviewed by Martin Tsai

Stay is like a second-rate Bruce Willis flick minus Bruce Willis, with a necro-psychobabblish plot redolent of both The Sixth Sense and Color of Night. The difference is that Stay has already spoiled its own supposed twist ending with the tagline on its poster: "Between the worlds of the living and the dead there is a place you're not supposed to stay." Hey, thanks for the heads up.

In this entire-life-flashing-before-the-eyes limbo we find the incongruous figure of psychiatrist Sam Foster (Ewan McGregor) and his patient Henry (Ryan Gosling, as yet another deranged lad), who threatens to kill himself on his 21st birthday. Having already intervened in the suicide attempt of his patient-turned-girlfriend Lila (Naomi Watts), Sam naturally wants to do the same for Henry. He visits a blind psychiatrist (Bob Hoskins) who might be Henry's deceased father, a student/waitress (Elizabeth Reaser) who might be his love interest, his former shrink (Janeane Garofalo, nearly unrecognizable as a blonde) who might be going nuts, and his dead mother (Kate Burton) who might very well be still alive. The mystery is, just precisely which one of them is seeing dead people.

Sam's various encounters prove to be fruitless both for him and for the poor mortal souls who've paid money to watch this. The subplots simply don't add up, and there's very little scare or thrill in this alleged psychological thriller. David Benioff's screenplay is suspiciously similar to that lame 2001 horror flick Soul Survivors, which takes place within a character's comatose mind after a life-threatening car crash. But Stay is even more absurd for the fact that its protagonist is not the person experiencing the hallucinatory visions that make up the bulk of its narrative. The climactic gotcha moment here is likely to irritate rather than awe.

Marc Forster - director of the equally ridiculous Monster's Ball and Finding Neverland - here employs many incoherent stylistic strategies to hammer home the point that the film does not literally take place within its own cinematic reality. Each scene digitally morphs into the next, à la the music video of “Livin’ La Vida Loca”. There are various inexplicable effects, such as when groups of twins and triplets are walking together wearing matching outfits. The scenes are frequently intercut with alternate takes replaying the same actions, or even with different actors repeating the same lines, in a futile attempt to duplicate that same creepy disorientation achieved by the cursed video in The Ring. Forster's visual and audio gimmickries don't necessarily reveal anything about the murky state between life and death. Instead, these superficial touches merely distract viewers from the fact that this scam of a film really makes almost no sense at all.

Good luck stay-ing through its 99 minutes without wanting to play in traffic afterwards.

Reprinted from WestEnder. © Copyright 2005 Martin Tsai. All rights reserved.

L’Enfant (The Child)

Reviewed by Martin Tsai at the 24th Vancouver International Film Festival

While some contemporary realist masters such as Mike Leigh, Ken Loach, et al. have managed to branch out without necessarily compromising their auteurist integrity, others like Erick Zonca and the Dardenne brothers are still fervently practicing Bressonism. If it’s not broken, why fix it? As J. Hoberman of The Village Voice pointed out, the Dardennes’ two Palme d’Or winners – 1999’s Rosetta and this year’s The Child – both pay homage to Robert Bresson.

Their latest involves the puerile and unscrupulous Bruno (Jérémie Renier), who enlists two juveniles to commit petty thefts for him, sublets the apartment belonging to his girlfriend Sonia (Déborah François) while she’s in labour, and schemes to sell their newborn son for a quick buck. When Sonia finds out about this and calls the cops on him, Bruno attempts to retrieve the child to make peace. Yet he unwittingly finds himself in deeper trouble.

The film is a respectable and moderate achievement, but it doesn’t reach the psychological dimension of the Dardenne’s previous work, The Son. Its theme of black-market infant trading brings to mind Jan Hrebejk’s Up and Down, but The Child completely underwhelms by comparison for its lack of insightful social and political implications. Since even Cahiers du cinéma suggested that it lacks innovation, in retrospect Cronenberg, Hanake and Hou deserved this year’s top prize at Cannes much more.

© Copyright 2005 Martin Tsai. All rights reserved.

China Blue / A Tale of Cinema / Paradise Now

Reviewed by Martin Tsai at the 24th Vancouver International Film Festival

As Jia Zhangke’s The World alluded to, China is experiencing the largest migration in history. More than 130 million residents have headed for the country’s southern provinces and taken up jobs at sweatshops. Micha Peled’s documentary China Blue follows 16-year-old Jasmine, who slaves long hours (one of the shifts lasted 27 hours) for below minimum wages (roughly $1 per hour) at a denim factory. She shares a dorm room with 11 others and pays for the lousy food served at the cafeteria and for hot water from the kitchen for washing. She also gets fined for tardiness, sneaking out, dozing off, or taking unscheduled bathroom breaks. Her factory charges its client $4 per pair of jeans, and turns around and retails it at 10 times that price. Even a worker’s-rights advocate concedes that a factory that provides workers adequate rest and pays minimum wages simply can’t stay competitive. Cogent and alarming, the film certainly will make you inspect the labels carefully and think twice the next time you’re out shopping.

When describing the halfway narrative bifurcation in Hong Sang-soo’s A Tale of Cinema, many critics are citing Tropical Malady. Are they forgetting that Mulholland Dr. likely shares the same strategy? This first half of Tale is actually a film within a film depicting the botched suicide attempt of two lovers (Lee Ki-woo, Uhm Ji-won). Later we learn that the first part is an unauthorized real-life account of Tong-su (Kim Sang-kyung), who is now smitten with the actress who played his ex-lover (Uhm). The distinction between the film-with-a-film and the supposed reality here is effected by the use of camera zooms. The quasi-Adaptation aspect of it is fun, but in the end Hong’s film just isn’t all that memorable.

Hany Abu-Assad’s latest Palestinian political drama is even more eye-opening and thought-provoking than his insightful last feature, Rana’s Wedding. Paradise Now examines the dynamics between two friends (Kais Nashef, Ali Suliman) after an aborted suicide-bombing mission changes one from conflicted to hell-bent and the other from gung ho to compassionate. The most fascinating aspects of the film are its Christian symbolism, its portrayal of the hypocrisy and indifference amongst the puppeteering extremist leaders, and how its protagonists react to the awakening of their consciences. Contemplating the catalytic impact of the two friends’ decisions on their loved ones, the film’s conclusion is so chilling that it’s simply unforgettable.

© Copyright 2005 Martin Tsai. All rights reserved.

Heading South / The Last Mitterrand

Reviewed by Martin Tsai at the 24th Vancouver International Film Festival

After examining the corporate downsizing phenomenon with Human Resources and Time Out, Laurent Cantet shifts his focus onto Haiti’s sex tourism in the 1970s with Heading South. Shirtless muscular Haitian studs vie for the affections of desperate middle-age American housewives, who in return shower them with meals, gifts and money. The charming ways of Legba (Ménothy Cesar) cause acid-tongued Ellen (Charlotte Rampling) and newly divorced Brenda (Karen Young) to bond, exchange notes and ultimately fight. Dennis Lim of The Village Voice aptly compared the film to Ladies in Lavender, but there’s much more. Unlike The Constant Gardener, Heading South does expose white foreigners’ ignorance, stereotyping, objectification and hypocrisy vis-à-vis the locals, even if Cantet occasionally undermines Haitians’ perspectives. The devastating finale brings revelations to the protagonists, but leaves the viewers cold.

Robert Guédiguian also shifts his focus from life in Marseilles (Marius and Jeannette, The Town is Quiet) to the final days of controversial French socialist ex-president François Mitterrand. Freely adapted from Georges-Marc Benamou’s account, The Last Mitterrand depicts an unnamed president (Michel Bouquet) at the final stage of prostate cancer contemplating his legacy and confronting his missteps at the prodding of an idealist biographer (Jalil Lespert). Like Marco Bellocchio’s Good Morning, Night, full appreciation of Last Mitterrand demands familiarity with its historical background or some Googling. (Notorious Vichy police chiefs who deported French Jews to the Nazi concentration camps are cited here, but neither does the film nor did Mitterrand in real life clear up his association with them.) Still, the film’s depiction of the frailty of power and ideals is universal and unassailable.

© Copyright 2005 Martin Tsai. All rights reserved.

Hell / Mountain Patrol: Kekexili

Reviewed by Martin Tsai at the 24th Vancouver International Film Festival

Following Tom Tykwer’s Heaven, Hell is the second installment of a Dante-inspired trilogy planned by the late director Krzysztof Kieslowski and his frequent screenwriter Krzysztof Piesiewicz. On the heels of his Oscar-winning debut No Man’s Land, Danis Tanovic attempts this ambitious, star-studded French-language baloney about lifelong scars from familial dysfunction. Hell encompasses the lives of three sisters (Emmanuelle Béart, Karin Viard, Marie Gillain) who have drifted apart and are similarly trapped in unhealthy relationships after a traumatic episode in their childhood left their mother (Carole Bouquet) in a wheelchair and their father (Miki Manojlovic) in prison. With its half-baked philosophizing, the film is nearly as pretentious and snooze-inducing as Heaven. But Hell is the more disappointing of the two, as this kind of faux-Kieslowski crap is to be expected from Tykwer (i.e. Winter Sleepers, The Princess and the Warrior) but not from Tanovic.

The Missing Gun director Chuan Lu conversely avoids the sophomore jinx with the captivating and harrowing Mountain Patrol: Kekexili. Based on a true story, the film follows an investigative reporter (Zhang Lei) to Tibet on assignment to cover the story of mountain patrolmen mercilessly executed by antelope poachers. Lacking state funding and manpower, the patrolmen must risk their lives in order to battle dangerous outlaws and survive the harsh weather. As the pursuit drags on, their predicament becomes increasingly dire. One of the more remarkable regional productions from Columbia Pictures, the film has the accessibility of a studio product. Its Scope photography of the austere Tibetan skies and mountains is breathtaking. But even with its somewhat slick façade, Kekexili builds to a powerful climax unmatched by faux socio-politico thrillers like The Constant Gardener.

© Copyright 2005 Martin Tsai. All rights reserved.

Twist of Faith / Idiot Love

Reviewed by Martin Tsai at the 24th Vancouver International Film Festival

Kirby Dick’s Oscar-nominated documentary Twist of Faith follows the journey of a man suddenly confronted with the sexual abuse in his past upon discovering that his predator lives five doors down the street from the newly purchased family home. Toledo, Ohio firefighter Tony Comes seemingly has the perfect all-American family life. But whether he is sharing physical intimacy with his wife or potty-training his infant son, his boyhood trauma still fills his life with anxiety. When the Boston priesthood abuses make national headlines, Comes contacts his local bishop about the alleged rape by ex-priest Dennis Gray. But the church responds with only denial and deceit, prompting Comes’s pent-up rage to slowly exact a toll on both his own spirituality and the life of his family. With the subjects given cameras to document themselves, the film provides incredible access into their emotional lives. But when its deceptively innocuous early vignettes ultimately turn out to be foreshadowing, the film’s epilogue is so inexplicably chilling that it warrants follow-up investigation.

Perhaps trying to shake off the heavy Almodóvar influence in his work, Ventura Pons this time looks to Lars von Trier for Idiot Love. Obviously, its chief influence is the Danish provocateur’s Dogme exemplar The Idiots. Self-proclaimed idiot Pere-Lluc (Santi Millán) has no qualms whipping his penis out at his godfather’s birthday party so he can threaten to stick a fork in it, and it comes as no surprise that he suddenly feels compelled to stalk and break into the home of married street-banner installer Sandra (Cayetana Guillén Cuervo) after accidentally walking into her ladder one night. In spite of all its gratuitous nudity, graphic sex and City of God-esque rapid camera zooms and pans, the insufferably self-aggrandizing first-person narration over the prolonged classical-music-punctuated montages suck all the potential fun out of Idiot Love. With no philosophical insight to speak of, Me and You and Everyone We Know it is most certainly not.

© Copyright 2005 Martin Tsai. All rights reserved.