Author: Esme Betamax

The Heritage of Love is a big-budget Russian love story. Andrey Kulikov is a lieutenant in the White Army, with Javier Bardem good looks. He falls for wide-eyed Princess Vera (Svetlana Ivanova), in the midst of the First World War and subsequent revolution.

War. Revolution. Love. If TV soap operas such as Downton Abbey or War & Peace are your cup of tea, the this one is for you. The Heritage of Love can be added to this list of nostalgic productions, yearning for the good-old-days where the aristos were in charge. It is certainly the trend at the moment to tell sympathetic stories of the kindly ruling classes: wealthy landowners and royalty. Because they have hearts, just like the peasants, and being so rich in the face of poverty is a big responsibility. We can add new Netflix fare The Crown to the list while we’re at it.

The soundtrack is made up of Eurovision-worthy ballads, which is appropriate because leading man Dima Bilan represented Russia at the 2006 contest, and won it in 2008 with the utterly forgettable ‘Believe’. This goes some way to explaining the box office success for The Heritage of Love in its native land. Bilan also plays the great grandson of Andrey Kulikov (everyone repeats his full name throughout the film, adding gravity to proceedings) who runs around present day Paris searching for a young woman who bears a striking resemblance to Vera. Oh it’s just too damn romantic, and based on a true story, don’t ya know.

Director Yuriy Vasilev is apparently known for his acting in musicals and romance, but it looks like he has a flair for war as a director. The most entertaining sequences of The Heritage of Love are the battle scenes. They are explosive and spectacular, which is a relief after all of that romance and swooning.

Departure follows a British family to their rural French holiday home, where they prepare for its sale, in the midst of their struggle with changing relationships, sexuality, and loss. It is the debut feature from director Andrew Steggall.

The story revolves around a mother and son, played by Juliet Stevenson (Truly Madly Deeply, 1990), and Alex Lawther, who recently appeared as the young Alan Turing in the Imitation Game (2014). Proving to be one to watch, he is listed in the BAFTAS ‘Breakthrough Brit’ scheme. Lawther is faultless as Elliot, striving to break free from his mother’s stifling embrace. He longs so be sophisticated. Leaning, not so casually, in his little-drummer-boy jacket, he cites poetry at every opportunity. Though still too much of a petulant teenager to be particularly likeable, it’s hard not to feel sympathy for the boy when his declarations of fact (designed to impress) unravel in front of him. GCSE French no doubt serving him well in his pursuit of the mercurial Clément, played by Phénix Brossard.

Juliet Stevenson’s performance is poignant. Her Beatrice is in a state of refusal – unable to accept the reality that she is losing those whom she holds dear: husband, home and son. The brooding nature of all the male characters serves to highlight her behaviour: emotional, irrational, and grasping.

Visually, Departure is absolutely beautiful. Each scene is framed to create the impression of an exquisite painting, whether landscape, portrait or still life. Cinema audiences will be rewarded with these immersive scenes. The pace is gentle, and dialogue halting as characters pick their way through awkward encounters, yet Departure makes for compelling viewing. The enjoyment lies in reading the characters during their silences, recognising their moments of realisation.

I recommend Departure for fans of Pawel Pawlikowski‘s My Summer of Love, which covers similar ground with regard to sexual experimentation, and dysfunctional family units.

Southside With You follows Barack Obama and Michelle Robinson over the course of a day in Chicago. It is Barack’s quest to turn his meeting with colleague Michelle from “Definitely not a date” into a date.

The casting is strong – Parker Sawyers as Barack Obama is a perfect fit. But the strength of the actors is not enough to save the feeble script. Comparisons with Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise are spot-on. Especially in the way that there is so much explanation throughout: it’s all tell and very little show. The reason this is frustrating is that most viewers should have quite a good grasp on what these people are like. They have been in the White House for 8 years, and there is no shortage of TV appearances through which we can learn about their lives. This film sheds no new light on the Obamas. Instead, it simplifies them: Barack’s interests are speech-writing, community organising, and chain-smoking. Michelle’s are social justice, professionalism and ice-cream.

One thing that is obvious about the couple, when they appear alongside each other in interviews and public appearances, is that they are very much in love. They still have that spark of a new romance. So why is Southside With You so passionless and dry? Writer/Director Richard Tanne seems to be an advocate of President Obama and this film is a vehicle for that. He wraps up pro-Obama rhetoric in an insipid romance. His message is: Ignore Obama’s failings as a president and see what a good heart he has. Yes, the man with a good heart. So good, in fact, that he just won’t quit until he gets into Michelle’s heart. Because ‘no’ means ‘maybe’ right? Gimme a break. Though Tanne is at pains to tell us what a smart, capable, driven woman Michelle is, all Barack needs to do is disrespect her wishes over a matter of hours, wear her resolve down and (spoiler) win her heart with an ice cream. Southside With You is 100% the male perspective on romance and it does Michelle a great disservice for that reason.

Taglines for Southside With You could include: Escape from the Friendzone or Feminism:Mansplained.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yn02RS6IT0

There is an understandable temptation for a writer to begin what is essentially a ‘History of…’ at the very outset of cinema. The author, Ryan Uytdewilligen, strives to be thorough, so wouldn’t want to risk missing anything out. In this instance he should have ignored that temptation and cut straight to the 1950s. The first four decades (chapters) are a hard slog. Any gems of wisdom better saved for an appendix.

From the start Uytdewilligen sends us mixed messages, as he can’t seem to pin down what ‘coming of age’ means. I was expecting a book about teen flicks, something akin to 2014 documentary Beyond Clueless (worth a watch), covering the ages of 12-21. In the introduction he suggests that it is possible for a person to ‘come of age’ in their 80s, but that is plainly untrue. 101 Most Influential Coming of Age Movies is a great premise, but he comes unstuck within the first few pages. His position becomes clearer in the section on Mary Poppins (seriously), where he reveals that he equates coming of age with learning a life lesson, in the case of Mary Poppins: “There is a time for fun and a time for work”.

The author’s voice is inconsistent: chatty, casual passages interspersed with virtually unreadable prose: “If only this lesson was as exciting and climatic in real life as it is in Peter Pan, because it would be found loud in clear”. Okay dude. He includes numerous juicy pieces of trivia (Adolf Hitler wanted to kidnap Clark Gable; MGM wanted to cut ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ from The Wizard of Oz) but these are often lost amid authorial ramblings. You probably paused at the mention of Mary Poppins – I certainly did. It wouldn’t be the first title that springs to mind when thinking about coming of age movies, and neither would Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, The Red Balloon, National Velvet, The Jungle Book or Bambi. It is odd that Uytdewilligen should choose so many child-focussed films when he seems very passionate about the experience of teenagers at school: “After the cruel social experiment known as high school”

He attaches a ‘Greatest Influence’ to each of the listed films, but these make little sense after a while: “How Green Was My Valley: Imploring and expanding on the multigenerational period family drama.”  There’s scant evidence about why most of the films can be labelled ‘influential’, though he does express decent reasons for some (kickstarted a particular genre; pioneered realism/method acting).

He includes a good number of highly influential films: The Graduate (1967); Carrie (1976); Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982); Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986); Clueless (1995); Napoleon Dynamite  (2004); Blue is the Warmest Color (2013), but in his attempt to be generous to each decade has squeezed more recent years, which are the most fruitful for teen movies. I’m sorry to see he has left out Heathers, The Lost Boys and Empire Records, but any list like this will be open to debate.

101 Most Influential Coming of Age Movies is a labour of love. It’s also a list. A thorough, well researched, carefully curated one, but a list nonetheless. A steadfast editor could transform it into a decent read. Failing that, just grab the list and run.