Author: BRWC

Pathaan: Review. By Samhith Ankam.

EN ESTA NOCHE LA VIDA ES COMPLETA

Saving the collective existence through the individual one. Pathaan isn’t an actioner that ponders; what if I said even a little giddy with the idea of a mutated virus that can decimate a town in a matter of hours. But the stakes slowly escalate to the end of the world, while the twists unravel why it’s all happening — in juxtaposition, desires manage to overlap until everyone’s determination to their mission becomes questioned. Love blossoms, hate prevails, and revenge and betrayal are the currency that governs the Earth. 

Yada yada yada, but all of that also means this is allowed to have fun until the last third, especially with the mystery of Raktbeej – the virus – with Soderbergh-styled heists operating on the scale of a Mission Impossible movie while Pathaan and Rooba slowly fall in love every step of the way. Yash Raj Films’ Spy universe is still fresh enough to feel like it’s marching forward, even if that’s just the overlap of all the RAW agents. And that propulsion locks with Pathaan’s content feeling with what’s there right now, creating a whirlwind of being sexy and kicking ass, saving those who are falling almost as like a positive aftermath. 

This operates in the realm of pure emotion, so why even compare this to its contemporaries in Hollywood when the ethos is so obviously different? Even to its detriment, Indian cinema in its most commercial form is an ode to the actor on screen – there’s pure belief in the truth that they’re more than actors, but an emotion. A god whose only purpose is to entertain, to let us escape in their big arms since maybe that’s the only way we’ll be saved from all that’s wrong in the world. So it dives into pure iconography – the symbol for Shah Rukh Khan is Shah Rukh Khan, who is also the symbol for keeping on going in life through thick and thin.

The title card, Pathaan, doesn’t even drop until after the first action scene because it wants you to feel the sensation, before processing letters. A shotgun tracked by a camera through the air as it lands in Pathaan’s hands upon which he blasts enemies into the air, or him kicking a magazine after his pistol runs out of bullets with such force that it takes someone out, or him driving a helicopter in a stash house before breaking out through the ceiling like a rocket – Sounds ridiculous to say this all takes place within less than 15 minutes, and that this doesn’t peak given that there are over 2 hours left, but that’s the magic of this thing. 

When you’re not winking at the audience but sincerely indulging in the madness on display, it breaks the barrier of how “fun” something can be – the sky is the limit in the creation of action since anything goes as long as it makes emotional sense. Getting hit, losing, and letting situations run down to the last possible second. None of this is easy, and it always builds up with constant failures to morph the set-piece into insanity – it feels so primal in escalation. 

Not that it’s wholly absolved of it, but this could’ve lost itself to the messy politics of being set against the territorial fight for Kashmir between India and Pakistan. But there’s a rejection of the larger forces here. Allegiances that character give to shift constantly, rendering patriotism a buzzword used by governments to exploit – saving lives and having no one save you in return. Early on, this cuts into a flashback of Jim, the film’s antagonist, an Indian patriot who terrorists capture along with his family after he rescues hostages. The government decides that they won’t give in to their demands for money for release, and Jim’s pregnant wife is shot. A family, present and future, lost in a second – the sound of the gunshot coupled with Jim screaming is so striking that it echoes through the rest of the movie. 

Usually, a villain’s motives, no matter how understandable, get less and less important as the death toll gets more and more important. But, in action set-pieces and plot, those within these systems are the subject of destruction here until the very end, not the ordinary people on the ground working their 9 to 5s. Jim is a monster created from within, abusing all that they’ve abused, so the Jai Hind (“Hail India”) resolution feels ironic – there’s not only so much pent-up distrust in here but also nothing solved, only a retreat back to square one, that it eats the propaganda from the inside out. More so in common with how Michael Mann depicts detective work as a neverending storm in Miami Vice where the only moments of warmth are in moments of love, but only here it’s as fun as a Michael Bay movie. 

Bristol Fashion: Review. By Joe Muldoon.

Christina (Lea Nayeli, who also co-wrote the film) is a young transgender woman who has left her troubled home behind, opting instead to stay in a dilapidated boatyard. After paying for a small broken-down boat, she intends to gradually fix it up and to set sail down the river, well away from New York. Throughout the renovation process, Christina becomes friends with Esteban (Raul A. Perez), the worker who sold her the boat, and Esteban begins to develop unreciprocated feelings towards his new friend.

As time goes by, the everyday struggles of trans people are highlighted, many of which would otherwise be overlooked. When applying for a job at the local grocery store, the hiring manager shows his confusion towards Christina’s ID card, which is from her pre-transition years.

Having been co-written by its leading star, it seems sadly likely that Christina’s struggles are partially drawn from her own life. Dotted around the story are silent flashback sequences of her crying in the shower of her family home, struggling with the rejection she faces.

Despite grappling with some important issues faced by transgender people, the film falls short of properly developing them. Christina’s references to it are vague, but we can see that the transphobia and rejection by her family has badly affected her, especially through her avoidance of the topic. However, when transphobic insults are hurled towards her by local bigots, they hardly appear to register, upsetting Esteban more than anybody else. In parts, the dialogue does not flow particularly well, and the acting is sometimes stiff, making some of the conversations feel somewhat unnatural.

Bristol Fashion works best when it focuses on the annoyances of Christina’s life, particularly those stemming from a lack of understanding or empathy towards her circumstances, but the hesitance to show the effects of transphobia – beyond random cuts to her crying in the shower – prevents the film from being as effective as it otherwise could have been.

Clearly being a deeply personal film for both Lea Nayeli and director Pierre Guillet, their ideas would likely have been more suited to a short film. That said, it deserves merit for increasing visibility towards topics mostly ignored by film over the years. Christina’s life will likely resonate with some of its audience, and will hopefully provide a glimmer of hope for the future.

By Joe Muldoon

Boyz In The Wood: Review. By Joe Muldoon.

When we think of Ilford and its surrounding areas, the possible presence of wild cats is fairly unlikely to spring to mind. That is, unless you’re the eccentric Rayan (BAFTA-winning Adam Deacon), a bumbling buffoon and aspiring documentarian who hopes to pave his way to media stardom.

After enlisting the help of his initially-reluctant younger cousin Babar (Tobias Jowett), the pair set off to create a documentary exploring the rumours of big cats roaming the area. As they begin to interview some of the peculiar residents of the area, stories begin to emerge of alleged sightings, most of which being in the nearest woodlands.

Things go slightly awry for the twosome as they realise how woefully unprepared they are to make a compelling documentary, and their two camera crew members’ morale scarcely lifts itself above the ground of the muddy fields they explore together. For a good chunk of the film’s second half, the search for these apparently-fierce felines is put on the backburner, instead focusing more on Rayan and Babar’s shenanigans and lively banter.

As was fairly certain from the outset, the hapless duo stood no chance of finding any prowling jaguars on the loose, but the old internet-created pirate adage applies here: the real treasure is not what waits at the end, but is instead the adventure they share together.

A post-lockdown satirical mockumentary on a shoestring budget, Boyz In The Wood is delightfully charming, and offers some genuinely hilarious film references, including a nod to the iconic plane sequence in Hitchcock’s classic North By Northwest.

The acting may seem clunky and unbelievable in parts to some not from Britain, but it’s fair to say that we Brits have all met a few Rayans in our time. With director Damian Power coming from a Reality TV background (from Made In Chelsea and The Only Way Is Essex, no less), this gem is a great segue into an independent film career, and one that has plenty of laughs in store.

By Joe Muldoon

Lunana: A Yak In The Classroom – Review. By Joe Muldoon.

Amongst the burgeoning film scenes in world cinema is that of Bhutan, whose first film was only released in 1989. First-time director Pawo Choyning Dorji’s heartwarming Dzongkha-language drama Lunana: A Yak In The Classroom was the first Bhutanese film to be given an Best International Oscar nomination, but had the rotten luck of being pitted against the exceptional Drive My Car and The Worst Person In The World. To my great shame, this is the first (though certainly not last) Bhutanese film I’ve ever watched, and there couldn’t be a better endorsement of Bhutanese cinema than this.

For the vast majority of cast members, this was their debut role, with many of the villagers never having even seen a film or camera before. This debut status applies to the film’s lead, Sherab Dorji, who plays Ugyen, an aspiring singer hoping to move to Australia. Approaching the final year of his mandatory 5-year teacher training (a job he dislikes), Ugyen is assigned to teach in the mountain village of Lunana, host to one of the most remote schools in the world.

With the help of village guide yak herders, Ugyen embarks on the 8-day hike to the mountainous village, though immediately regrets his acceptance of the teaching post, being appalled by the condition of the few resources they have. The villagers are positively ecstatic to host him, glad to finally continue their education.

The following day, Ugyen is awoken by Pem Zam (the class captain of his cohort), who informs him that he’s 30 minutes late to school, and that his pupils are all eagerly awaiting his arrival at the classroom. The reluctant teacher has an epiphany after experiencing the deep affection shown by the small class, with one of the pupils declaring his aspiration to become a teacher like Ugyen because it’s an opportunity to ‘guide one to the right path’. He decides to stay on to teach the children, much to the villagers’ delight, and gradually starts to improve their resources, his guide Michen (Ugyen Norbu Lhendup) constructing a makeshift blackboard for him, and his friends sending classroom supplies.

Quickly becoming the children’s favourite government-allocated teacher, Ugyen finds his place in the classroom and in the village itself, immersing himself in their customs. The exploration into Bhutanese culture is utterly fascinating, especially its focus on traditional music.

Perhaps most notable amongst all performances is that of Kelden Lhamo Gurung, who plays Saldon, a young woman who spends a great deal of her time sat atop a hill, tunefully singing a beautiful traditional song. For an almost-entirely first-time cast, the acting is genuinely impressive, and audiences would likely be unable to tell, if unaware of the fact before watching.

Incredibly dazzling is the cinematography, which does a marvellous job of capturing the breathtaking scenery of the majestic Bhutanese highlands. Lunana: A Yak In The Classroom is a wonderfully warm and simple tale, and one which takes great pride in its native culture, working as an excellent ambassador of Bhutan. Its overt patriotism avoids becoming obnoxious, instead being used to gently communicate that the grass isn’t necessarily greener in more developed countries, and that sometimes, simple indigenous home comforts are all one needs.

By Joe Muldoon

Two Witches: Review. By Joe Muldoon.

Why is it that young adults in horror movies seem to think that consulting Ouija boards will do anything positive to help with their supernatural troubles? In the first segment of Pierre Tsigaridis’ creepy two-parter (and full-length directorial debut), ‘The Boogeywoman’, a young couple sit down for a meal together in a nice restaurant. Sarah (Belle Adams) notices a woman (Marina Parodi) sitting across from them, a sinister scowl upon her face. Sarah’s partner Simon (Ian Michaels) is oblivious, and brushes her off when Sarah airs her concerns about possibly having had the evil eye put upon her. Vivid and unpleasant hallucinations follow, and mostly fall upon deaf and sceptical ears when mentioned to Simon.

The pair later visit Simon’s friends, Dustin (Tim Fox) and Melissa (Dina Silva), the latter of whom makes her living as a psychic healer. A Ouija board is soon consulted as part of the healing process, and as has become inevitable in horror, a member of the group (Dustin) takes the ceremony wholly unseriously, much to the annoyance of Melissa and upset of Sarah. Strange happenings and some admittedly bloodcurdling imagery ensue – special props to the makeup department for their efforts here.

In the second (much longer) segment, ‘Masha’, a young woman (Rebekah Kennedy, her character being the namesake of her respective segment) tightly strangles a man during sex. Before rendering him unconscious (or dead), the man punches her in the face, and is subsequently kicked out of the house by Masha’s housemate, Rachel (Kristina Klebe). Far from being the victim in this situation, Masha reveals to Rachel that she’s a witch, and is due to inherit her grandmother’s powers upon her death.

Though this segment is slow to properly get going, Masha’s instability and unpredictable malevolence gradually leads to some rather unpleasant consequences. The second segment being the strongest of the two, its link to its precursor is eventually revealed, and unexpectedly – excuse the pun – spells trouble for Masha.

Two Witches is overall an enjoyable low-budget horror, and its Raimi-esque influences make for quite a pleasant semi-tribute, the special effects and makeup often resembling Tom Sullivan’s work in the Evil Dead series. Decent enough though the story is, the film’s shining light is its special effects and makeup showcase. With hints towards a sequel, it will be interesting to see how the prospective next chapter could unfold.

By Joe Muldoon