film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Dan Barnes

  • Time: BRWC LFF Review

    Time: BRWC LFF Review

    Fox Richardson’s husband, Rob, has been in prison for over twenty years for attempted armed robbery (which Fox was also involved in). Nobody has ever denied his guilt, least of all Rob, who pleaded guilty at the time, but Fox believes his sentence (sixty years without the possibility of parole) to be drastically disproportionate for a crime in which nobody was hurt. 

    The couple carried out the robbery after an investor pulled out of a plan to support their new business in 1997. As Fox says, ‘desperate people do desperate things.’ They made a big mistake. They’re well aware of that, but Fox believes that Rob has more than served his time, and she’s spent every year since arguing that he was poorly represented and campaigning for his release. Time, the new documentary from director Garrett Bradley, brings that story to the screen.

    In many ways, Time feels almost like a spiritual successor to Ava DuVernay’s 2016 Oscar nominee 13th, dealing with America’s mass incarceration problem, albeit in a more personal manner. Time opts to approach this issue through the eyes of one family, delivering its message in a relatable yet equally successful way. Richardson and Bradley’s argument clearly is that the problem lies in incarcerating people for far longer than they need to be; that the system is utterly broken. 

    At the heart of this film is the abundance of archive footage provided by Fox; a combination of family home videos and personal diaries from Fox herself. It tells its own story, and it brings the audience on the journey with them. We feel the ‘time’ that’s passed and, in turn, understand the sheer anguish that the family have experienced. It articulates emotions in a way that no amount of talking heads could achieve, and also creates some form of character arc for the film’s protagonist, Fox, showcasing her evolution from a scared young mother to a brave and impressive woman, capable of achieving the impossible. 

    Fox has managed to raise six delightful sons mostly on her own, all the while running a busy car dealership and constantly trying to get her husband out of prison. She is intelligent and articulate, persistent and patient. A frankly remarkable person, Fox brings so much energy to the story; impassioned in her speech, determined in her journey and endlessly watchable.

    Time, which boasts a hauntingly beautiful score from Jamieson Shaw and Edwin Montgomery, is also brilliantly presented in black-and-white, adding some consistency in tone and evoking the feeling of the film as a family memory; the past, not the future. An excellent choice on Bradley’s part. 

    Perhaps the only criticism that could be labelled at the film is that it is simply too short. At just 81 minutes, many details are brushed over, with the viewer offered little information with regards to Rob’s appeal or in fact the initial crime itself. Of course, the family is the heart of this story, but a little more context would’ve certainly been welcome. 

    Overall, Time is extremely effective; a personal and melancholic look at an ongoing problem. Thematically rich, it focuses on all the negative effects of the topic at hand, while never losing sight of the heart of its story; Fox, Rob and their sons. It gives us a family worth reuniting, and two people worthy of a second chance. 

  • Supernova: The BRWC LFF Review

    Supernova: The BRWC LFF Review

    Hankies at the ready…

    Supernova, director Harry Macqueen’s follow-up to 2014 debut Hinterland, is a heartfelt and deeply affecting look at one couple coming to terms with an inevitable reality. Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci play Sam and Tusker, together for twenty years, enjoying a camper van holiday across England to visit family and look back on their fondest memories. Tusker is struggling with early onset dementia, and Sam fearful of a life without his best friend. 

    While the film certainly brings back memories of Michael Haneke’s devastating yet brilliant Amour, Macqueen’s approach is a little different. It’s a warm, affectionate and charming picture that reels the audience in with the likeability of its central characters and entertains every bit as much as it hurts. 

    Firth and Tucci are, undoubtedly, hugely responsible for the film’s success; two superbly talented and experienced actors with a wonderful chemistry that unfolds like magic on the screen. We really feel as if these characters have a history that is being threatened, and we truly grow to love them and care for their plight. Their commitment to their character traits and to the story’s most upsetting moments really sell the heartbreak of the situation; a long-term, happy and loving relationship is slowly fading away before our very eyes. 

    Both Sam and Tusker have to come to terms with a great deal in Supernova. They are fully aware that this may very well be their last trip together, at least while Tusker is of his right mind, and he’s terrified of losing sight of himself and becoming somebody else. Meanwhile, Sam is doubtful of his ability to look after him but determined to do whatever he needs. Both clearly know an unspoken truth that they’re hesitant to admit to themselves or each other, and those worries manifest themselves in several touching moments, particularly during a heart-breaking toast at a family dinner.  

    It’s not perfect, by any means. It’s a tad conventional and the script occasionally comes across a little clunky and on-the-nose, but it doesn’t really matter. Sam and Tucker are so likeable and authentic that the film comfortably succeeds in its approach to loss and mortality. 

    Supernova isn’t doing anything necessarily knew, but it’s doing it well. It’s a sincere, gentle and charming look at the things we do for the ones we love, and the closing moments will break the hearts of even the most hard-nosed of viewers. 

    SUPERNOVA, starring Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci and directed by Harry Macqueen, will now be released in cinemas on Friday 20th November.

  • Siberia: The BRWC LFF Review

    Siberia: The BRWC LFF Review

    Siberia: The BRWC LFF Review – Veteran filmmaker Abel Ferrara’s latest film (his sixth collaboration with Willem Dafoe) is every bit as strange as we’ve come to expect from him; a beautiful yet bizarre work that truly tests the patience of its audience.

    Dafoe plays Clint, a bartender based in Siberia, who embarks on a journey of self-examination, wherein he faces his own memories, thoughts, dreams, and even hallucinates. It’s a trippy, emotionally testing look at the human subconscious that Ferrara has described as such: ‘I want to see if we can really film dreams; our fears, our regrets, our nostalgia.’ 

    Siberia is far from the only film ever to attempt this, so it’s hardly the adventurous, bold game-changer that Ferrara clearly thinks it is, and other filmmakers have had far more success with the concept than him. 

    The film isn’t a completely wasted watch. In fact, it’s stunning to look at, creatively directed and exquisitely shot by Stefano Falivene, with the use of thematically distinct lighting and colour wonderfully reflecting Clint’s agitated mind. It’s competently put together by a team of experienced people who have mastered their craft, particularly Dafoe, a consistently engaging performer with a unique presence that has always suited the protagonists of Ferrara’s work. 

    Sadly, the problems lie with just about everything else. The visions and memories we see Clint experience are often no less than frustrating; shot with purpose, yes, but vapid and empty. Ferrara has thrown all of his thoughts on the screen, whether they add to the narrative or not (they rarely do). His intention appears to be to frustrate the audience into an uncomfortable state, but it just comes across as arrogant pretension and mockery, from a filmmaker who believes he’s far cleverer than those viewing his work.

    The less experimental aspects of the film also fail to ever truly come to life, due to the language barrier that exists between Clint and the Inuit people who come to his bar. While clearly intentional, it means that his time with his customers (particularly a heavily pregnant woman whom he kneels down to kiss) just comes across baffling. It isn’t an approach that works.  

    Siberia certainly gets under your skin, but not for the reasons Ferrara clearly hopes. In spite of its beauty and Dafoe’s predictably committed performance, it’s an utterly mindless attempt to visualise the mind of its protagonist with empty, surface-level experimentation that appears far more profound than it truly is. 

  • The Painter And The Thief: The BRWC LFF Review

    The Painter And The Thief: The BRWC LFF Review

    Norwegian filmmaker Benjamin Ree’s new documentary is a small story with a big heart, which follows artist Barbora Kysilkova as she forms a fascinating friendship with Karl-Bertil Nordland, one of the thieves who stole her paintings. 

    Barbora first acts in her own self-interest, keen to understand why Karl-Bertil did what he did and understandably desperate to recover her artwork. It soon becomes apparent that Karl-Bertil has serious drug issues and genuinely doesn’t remember what he did with the paintings, but the pair discover a surprise connection and continue to meet. A strong and loyal friendship is soon formed, as Barbora tries to help Karl-Bertil rediscover himself and get over his addiction.

    Ree is a man who knows how to tell a story; the continuity in The Painter and the Thief is expertly crafted, following a riveting structure with genuine surprises and conflicts, as we get to know Barbora and Karl-Bertil both together and independently of one another. 

    They are both very likeable people; Barbora, in her selfless approach to a man who so wronged her, and Karl-Bertil, a survivor of a difficult upbringing who seems to have lost sight of himself. His reaction to Barbora’s first painting of him is devastating to watch, and one of the most memorable cinematic moments of this year. He’s not used to being treated this way, and it’s in that moment that he realises it’s exactly what he needs. 

    While Barbora’s influence over him is at the forefront of the picture, the effect he has on her is far more subtle and doesn’t necessarily become clear until the final act. They are both kind but flawed individuals who meet each other at a crucial stage in their lives and offer the support that they need. It’s almost poetic, and by the final scene of the film (a happy accident that brings the story full circle in a special way), both are vastly different people, having grown in ways that they couldn’t have without their friend. 

    The Painter and the Thief is a classic ‘life is stranger than fiction’ tale about the unlikeliest of bonds formed between two polar opposites; one that leads to genuine healing and personal growth. It’s a meaningful tale of the power of human kindness, and a study of what we might discover if we open ourselves up to others in the same way. It’s exactly the kind of warm, hopeful film that 2020 needs. 

  • Mogul Mowgli: The BRWC LFF Review

    Mogul Mowgli: The BRWC LFF Review

    Bassam Tariq’s new film (his first since 2013 documentary These Birds Walk) is clearly a passion project for both its director and its star, Riz Ahmed, who also co-wrote and produced it himself. Having first premiered at the Berlinale back in February, Mogul Mowgli (which gets its title from a track by Swet Shop Boys, Ahmed’s own hip hop group), tells the story of British-Pakistani rapper Zed, who suddenly comes down with an autoimmune disease just as he’s about to get his big break, with young RPG waiting in the wings to fill his spot on an upcoming tour. 

    Of course, this isn’t what the film is really about. In truth, this is a story of a young man reconnecting with his family and rediscovering his roots. Having spent some time in America, Zed is constantly accused by his loved ones of having westernised himself, at one point even referred to as a ‘coconut’. They believe Zed to have forgotten where he comes from, or worse still, to be ashamed of it. This belief is only worsened when Zed undergoes dangerous treatment, which his father strongly disapproves of. 

    Mogul Mowgli would be nowhere near as successful were it not for Riz Ahmed, who lives and breathes every second of it. Already a vastly underappreciated actor, he’s arguably never been this committed to a role in his career. It’s clearly so personal to him; an exploration of his own culture and community, and it almost feels like he’s letting go of a weight on his shoulders. Perhaps the role he was born to play, Ahmed has never been better. (Sudha Bhuchar and Alyy Khan also deserve a special mention for their outstanding work as Zed’s parents). 

    It’s in the film’s hallucinogenic sequences that it begins to lose itself a little. While interesting at first (harkening back to the 1947 partition of India), they’re just a little overplayed. All too often, Tariq crosses the line into experimental cinema, and it just doesn’t mesh enough with the raw, authentic tone of the rest of the film. Perhaps it’s intentional, but it all seems a little confused and self-important. 

    For the most part, Mogul Mowgli is shot with real vigour. Erratic in nature, it’s cleverly presented in academy ratio, masterfully visualising the metaphorical walls closing in on Zed’s life. It’s claustrophobic and uncomfortable, as is undoubtedly intended, yet full of energy and sincerity. 

    The film isn’t consistent enough and it does begin to fade away in the third act, but it’s also mindful, driven, multi-layered and unashamedly personal, with Ahmed continuing to prove himself as one of Britain’s most exciting acting talents.