The dichotomy between good or bad doesn’t really blend in here, the binary dictates the action these characters will make — the racist patrons of the bar only grow to commit crimes. The complexity of Persian refugees coming into share the city with the locals is rendered through the painting of a city on fire, that is then getting painted over to save it.
It’s a thematic sledgehammer of “everyone is struggling” as a placeholder for moral ambiguity, which perhaps works to give some resolve to those folks who really need to hear this message of kindness, but otherwise it’s easy writing. Not enough to grasp upon.
Much of this is all traumatic detail in service of granting TJ, the owner of the local pub “The Old Oak” who soon turns into philanthropy, personal enlightenment through other people’s hopes. There’s a thread of empathy creates empathy, a world bonded by love — TJ helping Yara, one of the refugees who’s taken it upon herself to document her experience, repair her camera sets that course into motion.
But, it’s hard not to sense an ickiness in how use-and-throw the characters are in the narrative given how contextual their presence feels. Rarely are we afforded scenes in the refugees’ plight to assimilate, and developments of an entire community and TJ become so intertwined it can start to blend and blend into nothingness. Their spread of joy gets suffocated under TJ’s labored emotional state.
One scene regarding the state of Yara’s father runs with such life until it is reduced to an example of hope for TJ, if the term could be used in a decent sense it all then Yara exists as a manic pixie girl, only difference being that their relationship is entirely platonic.
I’m a newcomer to Ken Loach’s work, but there’s a tired didacticism that’s present in this being his self-proclaimed final work. It’s filled with scenes like children of the city peering their eyes on the bikes being handed out to the refugees, and men parading the local bar considering it to be a safe haven from those different to them.
The self-deprecation from TJ as his backstory unfolds gives this an edge that only highlights Loach’s interest in old folk instead of the new, leaving this feeling a bit bored even in good faith.
“The Holdovers” is an insightful and bittersweet drama that takes place in a 1970’s remote New England all-boys prep school, the elite Barton Academy. It mainly centers on a cranky and tough ancient history instructor named Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti), a school cook named Mary (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) dealing with immeasurable grief from the recent loss of her Barton alumni son in the Vietnam war, and a bright but troublesome student named Angus Tully (newcomer Dominic Sessa) who all stay behind at the school for Christmas break. (Initially, there are more students who are set to stay behind -“the holdovers” – but they all find themselves on a ski vacation, courtesy of an invite from the dad of one of the students.) Over the course of the narrative, the three wildly different and flawed characters form a bond and eventually grow and influence one another in an impactful and heartwarming way.
Hunham is the kind of high expectations instructor who, right before Christmas Break is either handing back tests with failing grades or giving a reading assignment much to the displeasure of his students, who for the most part dislike him as does most of the faculty. Early on, we see he is the antithesis of the warm and encouraging teacher played by Robin Williams in “Dead Poets Society.” Thus, we are led to infer that Hunham’s strictness and rigorousness are why the head of faculty likely has him in charge of supervising the holdovers. As the film progresses, this curmudgeonly instructor becomes someone able to gain our sympathy, through Giamatti’s layered performance, yet never resorts to over sentimentality.
Mary, meanwhile, is broken down and withdrawn, drowning in grief over her son while preparing meals for the rich kids at Barton. It is not easy for her to open up. Her hurt and loneliness are palpable. Randolph’s understated performance, without her saying much, speaks volumes, and is powerful in its own way.
Tully, in the end, the only student left behind, while very bright and studious, is also dealing with unresolved family issues that nag at him – a modern-day version of Holden Caulfield from “The Catcher in the Rye,” though less whiny. His character is the most multi-faceted, with Sessa giving a remarkable, breakthrough performance as the lonely and left behind “holdover” with an uncertain future. The rawness and vulnerability that he exudes rings true. While he is initially a bit hard to embrace, our feelings change to empathy the more we learn about him and the secrets that he has kept to himself. His relationship with Hunnam is a crucial component of the film, as each is able to learn and grow from the other.
The picture is also beautifully shot, with the cold, wintry setting perfectly evoking the isolation and loneliness that surrounds these three.
The more we get to know these characters, the more we learn of their motivations, their fears, and their vulnerabilities. The film effectively delves into moral and relationship issues and on the whole is poignant.
An Elephant Sitting Still: Review. By Joe Muldoon.
‘The world is just disgusting’ – in only five words is the bleak philosophy of An Elephant Sitting Still encapsulated, an odyssic swan dive into the abyss. Set over the course of a single day, we loiter alongside our four main characters as they navigate punishingly tough lives against the oppressively drab backdrop of Shijiazhuang, a stagnant industrial city in Northern China, where little reprieve is granted from their own personal miseries.
Yu Cheng (Yu Zhang) is a local gang member who watches his friend throw himself from a window after Cheng is caught making advances on his girlfriend; Wei Bu (Yuchang Peng) is a schoolboy who resents his father and accidentally pushes a bully down a staircase; Huang Ling (Uvin Wang) is a teen who has a strained relationship with her mother and is filmed meeting her school’s vice dean at a hotel room; Wang Jin (Zi Xi) is an ageing man whose son-in-law urges him to leave their apartment for a nursing home and whose dog is killed by a local missing dog.
Though each character contends with their own personal plight, all are united by a single wish: to leave Shijiazhuang for Manzhouli, to see a mysterious famed circus elephant who sits still and refuses to interact with the world. As their bleak stories gradually unfold, their reasons for seeking an escape become ever clearer. Scarcely a single interaction passes without interpersonal strains and disdains bubbling away at the surface; the people in whom our co-leads should find comfort instead meet them with coldness and irritability.
When called into the school office to inform him of the underperforming school’s impending demolition, Wei asks the Vice Dean what will happen to the students without a school to attend. His concerns are met with indifference –almost amusement– as the Vice Dean shrugs it off, fatalistically remarking that most students will simply end up as street vendors. Upon leaving the office, the teen’s friend says how moved he is by a quote he recently read: ‘The world is a wasteland’. Watching their lives slowly unfurl, it is not hard to see why.
Huang is the recipient of arguably the most painful words, both from the Vice Dean and her own mother. As they eat at a restaurant, the Vice Dean shares his darkly antinatalist worldview: ‘Life just won’t get better. It’s all about agony. The agony has begun since you were born’. During an especially bitter argument, Huang cries out to her unmoved mother that her life is miserable, and she responds, ‘But it’s not because of me. It’s always been like this.’
The entire script is laden with uncompromising antinatalist and pessimist philosophies befitting the likes of Emil Cioran and Philipp Mainländer. In The Trouble With Being Born, Cioran wrote that ‘a book is a postponed suicide’, and it feels as though every decision each character makes is exactly this, whether metaphorical or not. Perhaps our protagonists’ voyage to Manzhouli is a hopeful attempt to break free of this trajectory, a last-ditch effort to unburden themselves of the chains of their strife. Or perhaps they are simply delaying their mounting of the scaffold. After all, as the slimy Vice Dean so helpfully says to Huang, ‘new place, new sufferings’.
However, despite the venom with which the cast treats one another, it does not read as an outright embracement of misanthropy. Quite to the contrary, a particular empathy is evident across all of the interweaving stories. Despite our protagonists’ shortcomings, we hope for them to succeed, for them to meet the elephant. The evil of the film lies mostly with the world itself, not the victims surviving within it. When thrust into a cruelly unjust environment, their wretchedness stands as an unavoidable sigh of the oppressed, a lament to their human condition.
Though the initial intention was for the film to be shot statically (something prevented by its low budget), the subtle imperfections of the Steadicam camerawork actually work to its advantage, the small shakes and intense closeups providing us with an almost invasive level of intimacy with the subjects. Helped along with the moodily grey colour palette, each shot is given a sickly pallor. As the cast live out some of their most hopeless moments, we intrude upon their privacy and become co-conspirators. Each shot lingers unhurriedly and uncomfortably, most lasting minutes, the longest lasting over 18 minutes. The audience is offered no respite from the onscreen torment, we are forced to savour every unsavoury moment.
Impressively written, directed, and edited by Hu Bo, the film tragically serves both as his debut and his swansong. A mentee of the esteemed Béla Tarr and recipient of a lengthy string of posthumous accolades, it is safe to say that this was the first exhibit in what should have become a beloved and celebrated film career. An Elephant Sitting Still is as odyssic as it is exhausting, though not to its detriment. Nearing 240 minutes in length, its runtime will inevitably work its way into any discourse surrounding the film, but every second is warranted. To omit a single moment would be to suck the bones of their marrow. Whether you accept or reject the nihilistic philosophy that permeates every sinew of the film, you certainly won’t forget it.
Michael Mann hasn’t directed a feature since the disappointing Blackhat (2015) eight years ago. He’s finally back with Ferrari, a film he has been developing for many years. The script was written by Troy Kennedy Martin, who passed away way back in 2009. It’s easy to understand why Mann has stayed attracted to the project for so long though as Enzo Ferrari was a fascinating man.
The film is based on the book Enzo Ferrari: The Man, the Cars, the Races, the Machine (1991) by Brock Yates and mostly takes place in 1957. Adam Driver plays the legendary Enzo. Driver is 40 right now while Enzo was 59 in 1957. Despite some skillful makeup work and commitment by Driver, he does feel a bit miscast. I kept imaging Toni Servillo in the role instead as he would have been a perfect fit. Shailene Woodley also feels out of place as Lina Lardi, Enzo’s mistress who he had a son with.
The main story focus here is on Enzo’s deteriorating marriage to Laura Ferrari (Penélope Cruz) while he prepares for the 1957 Mille Miglia. Enzo brings in drivers Alfonso de Portago (Gabriel Leone), Peter Collins (Jack O’Connell), and Piero Taruffi (Patrick Dempsey) for the big race. He also faces company bankruptcy and is reeling from the death of he and Laura’s son Dino.
Mann makes Ferrari a sleek and intelligent sports drama and mostly overcomes the odd casting choices at the center. Cruz electrifies the film with a great performance as well. She portrays Laura as determined and emotional while never getting too melodramatic. She is Mann’s ace in the hole here.
The Mille Miglia section of the film is frequently exciting, though it does move us away from Enzo and Laura for a bit as it focuses on the drivers. The sound design is top-notch as the cars roar down the country roads. Cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt provides some beautiful aerial shots during the race while editor Pietro Scalia and composer Daniel Pemberton give a nice rhythm to the action Mann has crafted.
The 1957 Mille Miglia of course ended in tragedy. Mann doesn’t shy away from the horrifying thing that occurred. The event is displayed in a gruesome manner that shows the crazy dangers of races. I do wish Mann focused on the aftermath of the race a bit more though as the film wraps up soon after; we don’t get to sit with the event’s impact or Enzo’s reaction long enough.
Ferrari doesn’t try to cover too much of its central figure’s life and accomplishments, like the recent Napoleon mistakenly did. Mann instead keeps the film fixed as he explores one hellish year in Enzo’s life. The results are frequently riveting.
It certainly has some creative ingenuity and talent behind the feature, but the film seems to lack stakes and a proper villain to be truly entertaining.
This stop-motion feature film sees inventor Leonardo da Vinci who is ordered by the Pope to travel from Italy to France to experiment more freely and creatively. That all seems to be cut short when his superiors are deeply concerned about whether or not he is focused on the task at hand and not wandering off in his deep, genius-sized imagination.
Visually, the film truly is a marvel and director Jim Capobianco does a wonderful job at trying to recreate the incredible creativity of da Vinci’s mind because it is absolutely gorgeous to look at, but that doesn’t make up for its low stakes and lack of compelling storytelling.
As I said before, the lack of a villain in the film is a serious issue that should have been addressed in the writing process. One could argue that the Pope or the King could be the villain but the other characters are not unlikable, fanatical, or maniacal enough to constitute as such, which makes this movie something of a slog to watch.
Moreover, its lack of stakes make this film something more juvenile to watch. It almost seems more like one of those HBO after school kid’s shows rather than something to be taken seriously beyond the lens of cinema. Yes. I know that animation is cinema, but this movie could have been a lot better.
All in all, there is a mixed feeling I have towards this film. It is creatively gifted just like da Vinci, but narratively jumbled, while lacking the sense of danger that makes such movies great.
