Produced by a young crew from low-income at-risk communities in São Paulo, Sócrates reflects the circumstances under which it was conceived. Set in a dynamic environment, in which poverty and aspiration sit side by side, it is a coming of age drama which incorporates themes of grief, loss and marginalisation.
The film opens with an arrestingly powerful scene, where a young teenage boy, the titular Sócrates, discovers his dead mother in bed. Clearly distraught he vainly attempts to revive her. From here we follow him as he walks the streets in search of money, help and a safe place, with the threat of being put into care. It is a struggle not made any easier by the fact that he is still a minor, constantly faced with bureaucracy, resentment and ostracisation.
A major reason for this last hurdle is to do with his homosexual orientation. This revelation came rather out of the blue, considerably far into the established premise, that one might be forgiven for questioning its relevance to the narrative.
As it turns out there are pivotal moments on which the issue relies, or rather the homophobic reactions and attitudes of others towards it. At one stage Sócrates befriends a youth who offers him work, their sexual tension between one another hints at a more physical relationship which is, at first, manifested by homoerotic aggression. The subject of homosexuality is still particularly taboo in many sections of Brazilian society, even today, and so I did wonder why this additional element of adversity was introduced so late, with the story already well underway.
Christian Malheiros plays the lead with an emotional truth and sensitive authenticity. Immediately engaging, his benign countenance gives little away while at the same time conveying all of the emotion.
Many of the roles were played by non-actors, and a special mention should go to Rosane Paulo, who plays one of the late mother’s co-workers. She resembles something of a self-appointed mother figure, giving him at one stage, quite literally, a shoulder to cry on. A simple, wordless gesture of maternal sympathy allowing a moment for him to express and share his grief, and a rare occasion where he is shown some genuine kindness and compassion. It is testament to the maturity of Alexandre Moratto’s competent direction. A promising talent, he confidently employs space and understatement when needed.
For a film which deals with teenage hardships, grief and bereavement, it does not appear as visually bleak in its aesthetic. João Gabriel de Queiroz’s cinematography represents the rundown poverty-stricken locales with a certain amount of optimism, radiating colourfully underneath the bright Brazilian sunshine. The handheld camerawork keeps the film grounded in reality, reminding us of the instability of the environment we are in. Whereas other films of this category might choose to exploit the more life threatening, criminal aspects of youth forced to survive in conditions of precarious vulnerability, for instance Héctor Babenco’s Pixote or Fernando Meirelles’ City of God, Sócrates focuses more on inner conflict and emotion. It makes for a more ambiguous and aspiring storyline, a credit to the hugely ambitious and talented young crew.
Much like the Greek philosopher’s namesake, Sócrates remains somewhat of an enigma. Ultimately he is faced with having to let go of his attachment to his mother, quite literally. An effective resolution yet slightly wanting, I felt the opportunity was there to further explore his own character development, as he approaches adulthood. There was no indication as to if and how his life’s course might take a different direction.
In 2006 The Secret launched as an hour and a half video documentary entailing how the secret to life was visualising your success. Later that same year Rhonda Byrne published a book of the same name and on the same topic that Hollywood has now decided was worthy of adaption into the feature film “The Secret: Dare to Dream”. What a long way to go for so very little.
I want to start by saying that the most egregious part of this entire film is the very fact that it even exists in the first place. It should go without saying, but self-help books should never be adapted into feature films, Mean Girls notwithstanding, it has never worked. These books are not there for the benefit of moviemaking, nobody is asking for it, and every single time it happens, it feels like shameless money-grubbing from authors milking the limelight.
The movie itself is totally harmless and fine, at times, even moving. However, it lacks any real conviction to convincingly express the thought process behind the hit book. Ultimately the titular secret only amounts to, “think good things will happen, and they will” a rather unimpressive mantra. That is not to say living by “the secret” is not a positive way to live. However, that is to say, that it one, does not always work, and two, is simply the basic process of self-affirmation spun to sound more grandeur than it really is, which is precisely this adaptions greatest sin.
The story is about single Louisiana mother of three, Miranda Wells (Katie Holmes), who is struggling to get by five years after her husbands’ death. On the same day we meet her she is lucky enough to meet Bray Johnson (Josh Lucas), a university lecturer who unwaveringly subscribes to the secret way of life, and who comes brandishing a manilla folder to give to the Wells’. However, Miranda crashes into the back of Bray’s car before they can officially meet, setting in motion a series of events that see Bray hold off on sharing his reasons for being in town because he believes he is heading down a far greater path.
It would be putting it lightly to say this is about as clichéd as it gets, but that did not have to be a bad thing. Small town love against the odds is overdone and always will be, but that does not mean it is impossible to put a unique spin on your interpretation. Unfortunately, Andy Tennant decided not to add any flair and instead produced the single most stock standard effortless motion picture I have seen in a long while. There is no risk here, and there is no excitement or vulnerability. All there is are predictable plotlines smothered in sap and southern accents.
To make it all the worse, the performances from Holmes and Lucas are both effective. Lucas, in particular, makes for a perfect obnoxiously positive person. He does his part in convincing you this philosophy is worth believing in, thanks to his innate charm. The only issue is the sheer silliness and improbability of the things he is supposedly making happen by just believing that they will. For example, pizza arriving right after the children describe the exact pizza they want or finding the perfect piece of plastic to fix a roof because it was floating in the river he happened to be walking by. It is hard to imagine anyone reading the script without many an audible groan.
The Secret may preach to dare to dream, but it fails to dare to be anything more than another failed attempt at translating self-help to the big screen.
Ncube’s All The Pretty Girls is the story of prisoners of war in Rostock, MeckPomm, in the late 70s. It blends docu film and fiction, in its exploration of what to do with the problem of evil.
The film is very personal and adopts a unique tone and style. The director presents the film, telling the story of its origin as a play, and the sociological and political context for the film.
It is definitely a film of passion and a unique one at that. It definitely feels more like an art film rather than a documentary or a narrative piece. The process is deconstructed by Ncube, showing scenes and characters that he has cut, and sharing ideas about his process.
70% of the film is effectively Ncube’s play, on screen, in chrome, with a vignette on it, in 16:9 ratio. It is well acted and has a good script, but the whole thing does feel incomplete and difficult to actualise outside of its original theatre setting. It’s rare that a film set in one room is effective, let alone one where the actors and room don’t match the setting.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pcaXSW8EOE
A very difficult subject matter which was very bold of Ncube to deconstruct and tell his story. It would be nice to see this idea developed further with a bigger budget and as a full feature some day, as I think it will permeate audiences a lot easier.
Debuting at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, Spree is the latest dark comedy to set its sights on our social media-obsessed culture, zeroing in on the influencers who make a living displaying their “authentic” lives to rabid followers. While the film’s satirical spin may not offer intricate nuances to the subject matter, it delivers a breathless thrill ride with a deliciously sinister spin.
Spree follows Kurt Kunkle (Joe Keery), a wannabe influencer who’s spent years of his life striving for fame. Dissatisfied with his progress, Kurt sets a plan to draw new viewers in from his job as a ride-share driver, with his obsession for attention leading down a deadly path.
While many are likely to compare Spree to other psychotic thrillers (Nightcrawler, American Psycho, and Jokercome to mind), this film thankfully develops its own voice from its familiar trappings. Indie craftsman Eugene Kotlyarenko pushes the envelope with a pulsating sense of tension and pace, embracing a handheld camerawork style that fittingly encapsulates its subject matter while being conveyed with aplomb technical ability (genuinely happy to see the long-awaited revival of the found footage subgenre, with the film featuring a succinct combination of phone, dashboard, and security cameras that never feels gimmicky). Spree’s relentless 93 minute running time rarely lets up, portraying Kurt’s dizzying mission by properly escalating the mania at hand.
For as twisted Spree gets, Kotlyarenko’s script never forgets its finite sense of purpose. His searing portrait of the social media generation aptly criticizes the vapid behavior that drives people, observing how many promote themselves for clicks and followers over substantive dynamics. A well-incorporated satirical bend often mines laugh-out-loud moments from these portrayals, as Kotlyarenko flexes an astute understanding of how our culture operates (most the biggest laughs come from the minute details, whether it’s Kurt’s testing vapes in his try-hard vlogs or his bizarre EDM SoundCloud playlist).
The comedic first half quickly turns dour as Kurt’s victims expand past cringe-worthy millennial types, with the writer/director thankfully taking to task the deplorable extremes many undertake to reach worldwide fame. I particularly enjoyed the film’s criticism of self-entitled loners who blame their failures on the world around them, serving as a prime reflection of the white privilege that motivated several recent mass murders. These tonalities could feel desperate in the wrong hands, yet Joe Keery’s energetic performance ties the material together seamlessly. As Kurt, Keery unearths a demented lust for attention that’s always grounded in a sense of humanity, never allowing the character to drift into caricature territory.
Spree is always captivating to watch, yet I can’t help feeling some of its dramatic potential was left untapped. Kotlyarenko’s script can read as sanctimonious at times, spelling out its intended message with third act speeches that have the characters turn into ciphers for the screenwriter. I also wish the film did more to give Kurt’s character an arc, with a quick opening montage failing to display his transition from an earnest creator to a deranged killer (it’s clear the character is a byproduct of his conditions, but those elements come off as mere window dressing).
Spree’s abrasive style offers a darkly alluring condemnation of influencer culture driven by a career-best performance from Joe Keery.
While watching his initial batch of movies, you see a specific pattern emerging. His neurotic quirks are pretty evident, but it is his trademark Woody Allen appearance that really takes off. Sure, it is not as distinct and defined as Charlie Chaplin’s bowler hat, cane, and moustache. But Woody Allen’s messy crusty hair and glasses have become as much part of his personality as has his ticks. And unlike Chaplin, Allen’s look was pretty much part of his actual persona.
It is pretty much in full display in all its glory in Play it Again Sam, a movie that he did not direct but wrote and was based on his hit Broadway show playing around the same his first movie Take the Money and Run released. The play also marked Diane Keaton’s first collaboration with Woody Allen and was the beginning of their long and illustrious association.
The film is about Allan Felix, who idolizes Humphrey Bogart and recently went through a messy divorce. His feelings of inadequacy also come from his sexual relationship with his ex-wife or lack of it. Also complicating things is his self-pity at how he thinks he will never be able to match up to the suave coolness of Rick, Bogart’s character from Casablanca, a movie he also idolizes.
His best friend Tony and his wife, Dick, and Linda (Tony Roberts and Diane Keaton, reprising their roles from the Broadway play), tries to set him up with multiple other ladies. Eventually, he realizes he has fallen in love with Linda and decides to pursue her. All this complicates things for everyone involved as the movie bizarrely plays out like Casablanca, right down to the climax involving the three and Bogart thrown in for good measure at an airstrip.
The way it manages to draw parallels with Casablanca is pretty amusing. How slavishly it adapts Casablanca might be a hindrance for some, but you can’t help but smile how it manages to draw from the classic so well.
While watching the film, it also surprises you at how straight it plays out. After the relative kookiness of his first two movies, Take the money and run and Bananas, it nice to see a linear film from Allen like this one. It’s conventional structure and straightforward nature also probably came from the original Broadway play.
Though Allen didn’t direct the film, it has his stamp all over it. The dream sequence in Italian where he imagines his friend Tony coming to kill him in an Italian bakery seems so much his own creation and could have come from any of his movies. Also, his constant flights of fancy when he gets nervous wand he gets relationship advice from Humprhey Bogart is textbook Allen.
But calling it a Woody Allen movie is unfair to the movie’s director Herbert Ross. He is a guy who went on to direct many classics and also had a very long and fruitful collaboration with Neil Simon, another legendary writer known more for his comic creations.
My favorite scene in the movie is when the lady Dick and Linda managed to set up for him on a date, comes to his house with them. His attempts at carefully curating books, music, and other props and littering them across his place to make him look suave are hilarious. lt would hit the nerve of anyone who has ever tried to impress someone by pretending to be more appealing and interesting than they are.
To sum up, Play it Again, Sam, is Woody Allen’s beatify ode to Casablanca. In the climax, when Allen repeats Bogart’s famous, “getting on the plane” speech verbatim, Linda gets impressed and says its beautiful, oblivious to the fact that it was a line from a movie. Prompting Allen to admit, “It’s from Casablanca. … I’ve waited my whole life to say it!” It was an actor playing dress up and playing out parallels to his favorite movie. Isn’t that what we all secretly want to do?
While watching his initial batch of movies, you see a specific pattern emerging. His neurotic quirks are pretty evident, but it is his trademark Woody Allen appearance that really takes off. Sure, it is not as distinct and defined as Charlie Chaplin’s bowler hat, cane, and mustache. But Woody Allen’s messy crusty hair and glasses have become as much part of his personality as has his ticks. And unlike Chaplin, Allen’s look was pretty much part of his actual persona.
It is pretty much in full display in all its glory in Play it Again Sam, a movie that he did not direct but wrote and was based on his hit Broadway show playing around the same his first movie Take the Money and Run released. The play also marked Diane Keaton’s first collaboration with Woody Allen and was the beginning of their long and illustrious association.
The film is about Allan Felix, who idolizes Humphrey Bogart and recently went through a messy divorce. His feelings of inadequacy also come from his sexual relationship with his ex-wife or lack of it. Also complicating things is his self-pity at how he thinks he will never be able to match up to the suave coolness of Rick, Bogart’s character from Casablanca, a movie he also idolizes.
His best friend Tony and his wife, Dick, and Linda (Tony Roberts and Diane Keaton, reprising their roles from the Broadway play), tries to set him up with multiple other ladies. Eventually, he realizes he has fallen in love with Linda and decides to pursue her. All this complicates things for everyone involved as the movie bizarrely plays out like Casablanca, right down to the climax involving the three and Bogart thrown in for good measure at an airstrip.
The way it manages to draw parallels with Casablanca is pretty amusing. How slavishly it adapts Casablanca might be a hindrance for some, but you can’t help but smile how it manages to draw from the classic so well.
While watching the film, it also surprises you at how straight it plays out. After the relative kookiness of his first two movies, Take the money and run and Bananas, it nice to see a linear film from Allen like this one. It’s conventional structure and straightforward nature also probably came from the original Broadway play.
Though Allen didn’t direct the film, it has his stamp all over it. The dream sequence in Italian where he imagines his friend Tony coming to kill him in an Italian bakery seems so much his own creation and could have come from any of his movies. Also, his constant flights of fancy when he gets nervous wand he gets relationship advice from HumphreyBogart is textbook Allen.
But calling it a Woody Allen movie is unfair to the movie’s director Herbert Ross. He is a guy who went on to direct many classics and also had a very long and fruitful collaboration with Neil Simon, another legendary writer known more for his comic creations.
My favorite scene in the movie is when the lady Dick and Linda managed to set up for him on a date, comes to his house with them. His attempts at carefully curating books, music, and other props and littering them across his place to make him look suave are hilarious. lt would hit the nerve of anyone who has ever tried to impress someone by pretending to be more appealing and interesting than they are.
To sum up, Play it Again, Sam, is Woody Allen’s beatify ode to Casablanca. In the climax, when Allen repeats Bogart’s famous, “getting on the plane” speech verbatim, Linda gets impressed and says its beautiful, oblivious to the fact that it was a line from a movie. Prompting Allen to admit, “It’s from Casablanca. … I’ve waited my whole life to say it!” It was an actor playing dress up and playing out parallels to his favorite movie. Isn’t that what we all secretly want to do?
