Author: BRWC

I’m Fine (Thanks For Asking) – Review. By Joe Muldoon.

Danny (Kelley Kali, a rapidly-rising star, who also co-wrote and co-directed the film) and her daughter Wes (Wesley Moss) are homeless, living in a tent by the wayside in Pacoima, Los Angeles. Trying to shelter her from their current predicament, Danny has told her that they’re on a short camping trip until their new house is ready.

In reality, Danny is struggling to earn enough money to make a down payment on a rental property, trying to recover from the blindsiding sudden death of her husband. Due to the Covid-19 pandemic, Wes’ tuition is all online, meaning that she can be dropped off at a friend’s house so they can study together, giving her mother the time she needs to earn money.

Any reprieve Danny receives is bittersweet. Every time she is thrown a lifeline, she knows that it is only temporary; even if she earns the money needed to survive today, tomorrow will always be around the corner, a fresh day of drudgery awaiting her. A worker in the awful gig economy, Danny makes her money in any way she can – braiding hair, delivering fast food orders (to some venomously unsympathetic customers), and even pawning her personal possessions. Rollerskating her way between jobs, every breathing second is a fight against the clock, the threat of having her reserved rental property offered to other prospective tenants always looming overhead.

Despite the heavy-hitting overtones of the film, the tone is often kept relatively light, some of the people with whom Danny interacts offering a few laughs here and there. Particularly refreshing is the fact that life in L.A. is not glamourised. Far from the typical glitzy depictions of fame, fun, and fortune, we spend the duration of the film amongst the lives of working-class people, many of whom fight to survive. As Danny glides across the streets of Pacoima, there is a certain grace to her movements, helped along by the cinematography efforts of Becky Baihui Chen.

By all accounts, I’m Fine (Thanks For Asking) is a much-needed, poignant and heartbreaking meditation on poverty in modern day America, the wealthiest country in the world – but it feels wrong to say that I enjoyed it. Danny’s plight is incredibly difficult to watch, quickly becoming emotionally exhausting, her distress and despair leaking through to the audience.

Writing trio Kelley Kali, Roma Kong, and Angelique Molina have ensured that a strong punch is packed, and that little is held back. To call it a work of fiction would only partially be true; Danny, Wes, and their supporting characters have been created by the writing team, but they indirectly represent very real people. Tens of millions of Americans for whom this film is a reality.

By Joe Muldoon

I’m Fine (Thanks For Asking) hits cinemas and on digital from 3 March.

The Children’s Hour: Review. By Joe Muldoon.

In the November of 1810, two teachers (Marianne Woods and Jane Pirie) of an Edinburgh all-girls’ boarding school were falsely accused of having been sexually intimate on school grounds. Jane Cumming, a student at the school, deliberately gave false testimony that her sleep had frequently been disturbed by the teachers’ alleged activity, and the school’s students were all promptly withdrawn from the school. This infuriating event was turned into a play by Lillian Hellman in 1934, which was then adapted into a film by William Wyler in 1961 – this was Wyler’s first film since the classic 1959 epic Ben-Hur.

A decidedly faithful adaptation of Hellman’s play by the same name, The Children’s Hour is a rather devastating affair, something which is not helped by the fact that it is largely based in reality. Captivatingly leading the film are Audrey Hepburn (playing Karen Wright) and Shirley MacLaine (playing Martha Dobie), whose chemistry and camaraderie adds a touching note to what is ultimately a work of awful tragedy. As far as child actresses go, Veronica Cartwright (playing Rosalie Wells) did a magnificent job, because every scene in which she appears instilled within me a deep feeling of abject resentment towards her malevolent character.

Interestingly, Hellman’s play had already been adapted by Wyler back in 1936 under the title These Three, but its plot is noticeably different. A product of the horrific Hays Code, Wyler was forbidden from so much as hinting towards homosexuality, and so the film instead had Hepburn and MacLaine’s respective characters (played here by Merle Oberon and Miriam Hopkins) facing accusations of being embroiled within a love triangle with Karen’s fiancée, Dr. Joe Cardin (played by Joel McCrea in 1936 and James Garner in 1961).

The bitter irony is not lost on me that a play based upon the venomous nature of homophobia was itself subject to the intensely homophobic stipulations of the Hays Code. Given the era in which it was released, I also cannot help but wonder whether the actions of the bigoted Amelia Tilford (played scarily well by Fay Bainter) were looked upon by members of cinema audiences not with denunciation, but with support. The Children’s Hour is a biting (though somewhat muted) condemnation of the corrosive natures of homophobia and hatred, and its all-too-inevitable conclusion seals it as a crushing –and necessary– piece of cinema.

By Joe Muldoon

The Last Emperor: Review. By Joe Muldoon.

Of all the films of Bernardo Bertolucci’s illustrious career, The Last Emperor marks his most maximalist and ambitious work, and one I personally believe to be his finest. An adaptation of the autobiography ‘From Emperor To Citizen’ by ex-emperor Aisin-Gioro Pu Yi, The Last Emperor documents the privileged and ultimately tumultuous life of China’s final emperor (the eleventh and final monarch of the Qing dynasty). Though the 163-minute theatrical cut (which Bertolucci himself reputedly preferred) is the standard version, I watched the mammoth 218-minute extended cut, and so will be the cut discussed here.

Following a 5-year stretch in custody after having been captured by the Red Army, the film opens with the attempted suicide of Pu Yi (John Lone), ex-Emperor of China. We are then taken back to 1908, when a toddler Pu Yi (Richard Vuu – this remains his only-ever film role) is called to the Forbidden City by Empress Dowager Cixi. There, the toddler is informed that he is to become the next emperor – not that it means a great deal to the toddler, who is more interested in playing, as all toddlers do – and the Empress swiftly dies thereafter.

With a quietly crumbling empire suddenly at his feet, the young Emperor is confined (if not imprisoned) solely within the grounds of the imperial palace, and experiences a lonely childhood despite being surrounded by subjects and servants at all times. Worth mentioning here is that Bertolucci’s portrayal of the doomed ruler is often disproportionately sympathetic, omitting many instances of Pu Yi’s cruelty towards his court eunuchs.

Diplomat and scholar Reginald Johnston (Peter O’Toole, in a role that was criminally snubbed of an Academy Awards nomination for Best Supporting Actor) is hired in 1919 to give the increasingly Anglophilic young Pu Yi a Western-style education, and it is here that some of the film’s greatest performances are delivered; Wu Tao (as a 15-year-old Pu Yi) and O’Toole complement each other wonderfully, their chemistry coming across as genuine.

Jumping back and forth amongst the most pivotal events of the Emperor’s life, we witness his disastrous attempts to rule within the Forbidden City, his exile to Tientsin following the 1924 Beijing Coup, his marriages to Wanrong (fabulously played by Joan Chen) and Wenxiu (Vivian Wu), his decadent life as a playboy, his capture by the Red Army during the 1945 Soviet invasion of Manchuria, and his subsequent imprisonment at the ‘re-education’ Fushun Prison.

At the 60th Academy Awards, The Last Emperor went on to sweep all of its nominated categories, winning a staggering 9 Oscars overall (including the coveted Best Picture award) – by the time the end credits begin to roll, no doubt is left within the viewer that these awards were wholly deserved. That the film beat Spielberg’s Empire Of The Sun in every nominated category is testament to the brilliance of The Last Emperor.

An absolute odyssey of a film, it is as intriguing visually as it is storywise. Having been granted unprecedented and almost unfettered access to the Forbidden City by the Chinese government, the cinematography of Vittorio Storaro is utterly breathtaking, magnificently capturing the exquisite beauty of the sprawling palatial grounds. Ultimately, Bertolucci’s masterpiece is an epic elegy towards a sometimes tragic (and sometimes despicably cruel) individual, towards a man whose great power was never over his own destiny.

By Joe Muldoon

Broker: Review. by Joe Muldoon.

Affectionately dubbed by Roger Ebert as the possible heir of Yasujiro Ozu (though he personally prefers to be likened to Mikio Naruse and Ken Loach), Hirokazu Kore-eda’s filmography consists of many of the finest family dramas available. Largely inspired by the famous Jusarang Community Church baby box (created by pastor Lee Jong-rak), Kore-eda’s latest film, Broker, is an oddly charming – albeit unorthodox – road trip film, and one whose morality is often deliciously dubious at best.

A young woman, Moon So-young (Ji-eun Lee), leaves her baby in a baby box outside a church in Busan. Ha Sang-hyeon (Song Kang-ho), a hand laundry service owner and church volunteer, steals the baby for his illegal baby broker business. His right-hand man, Dong-soo (Gang Dong-won), a part-time worker at the church, assists in the brokering by deleting the CCTV footage of his partner taking from the baby box.

When So-young returns to search for her baby after apparently regretting her decision, she discovers the pair’s operation, and instead of busting their activities, decides to join them on a road trip so she can vet prospective adoptive parents. Unbeknownst to the trio, a pair of stakeout cops, Soo-jin and Detective Lee (played by Bae Doona and Lee Joo-young, respectively), have been observing them, and are soon hot on their tail. Soon tagging along with the outlaws is a young orphan boy, Hae-jin (Im Seung-soo), who forms the final piece of what becomes a peculiar, yet loving, ragtag crew.

The dysfunctional impromptu family dynamic is surprisingly endearing, and offers plenty of truly touching moments, including an incredibly powerful scene in which the members are gathered in a small hotel room and offer each other a sincere, “thank you for being born”. Strictly speaking, there should be nothing remotely heartwarming about the story; two men effectively spearhead a baby-kidnapping scam, are joined by a young unwilling mother and small boy on a road trip, and evade the law together. What would be an detestable and insalubrious scheme in real life is transformed into a compassionate tale about the family we choose, and the family we lose.

The tender Sang-hyeon and Dong-soo more or less become surrogate fathers for the vulnerable So-young, and so soft-hearted in particular is Sang-hyeon that he is told by So-young that he will be eaten alive by others if he does not harden up. In the role that won him the Best Actor award at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival, Song Kang-ho performs his acting duty as the lovable criminal with such subtle zest that you cannot help but like him, and Ji-eun’s performance as the rueful mother provides the piece with an appropriately saddening undertone. Also particularly impressive is Seung-soo Im’s performance as the rascally playful Hae-jin, whose approach to the role is an extraordinary blend of boyish curiosity and maturity far beyond his years.

Deliberately stepping away from presenting us with any identifiable objective moral stance, Kore-eda masterfully weaves his story within a grey area. When Sang-hyeon, who himself was abandoned as a child, questions the morals of somebody who leaves their baby in a baby box, So-young explains her heartbreaking circumstance and unsuitability as a mother. Throughout the film, we can see that she struggles with her decision, involuntarily showing genuine care for her baby, and reluctantly assisting with the scheme so that she can be reassured that his prospective adoptive parents will provide him with a better life. Nominated for the coveted Palme d’Or and (deservedly) winning the Ecumenical Jury prize, Kore-eda’s Broker is a skilfully crafted picture that warmly embodies the true spirit of empathy.

By Joe Muldoon