Media and Publications (2024)

INTRODUCING THE PROJECT

This is a project initiated by the SIGNIS Cinema Desk in 2009. It offered an opportunity for members of SIGNIS (the World Catholic Association for Communication) who were involved in Cinema, especially those who had been members of O.C.I.C. (L’ Organisation Catholique Internationale du Cinema, which was part of the merger into SIGNIS in 2001), to contribute their ideas about reviewing as well to offer some examples.

Just over 40 correspondents replied.

The idea for the project originated in media awareness seminars in the Pacific nations and in Australia for OCIC during the 1990s. While cinemas have disappeared in some countries and cinema complexes are being built in others, the ready access to video libraries, the Internet, downloading, has meant that we are all watching more movies than we did years ago. But, how are we watching them? How discerning are we? How discerning can we be? By learning more about cinema and growing to appreciate the richness of the movies, while being more and more alert to what is trite and worthless, this is something that younger audiences are eager to do.

In the early 1990s, 30 Australian reviewers were invited to contribute to a book on reviewing. It was called Worth Watching: 30 Film Reviewers on Review and was coordinated by Peter Malone.

Each reviewer was asked to write a 50-word capsule review, a 500-longer review and a piece indicating to their readership their criteria for reviewing. This was the request made for the 2009 project, to film reviewers all over the world. In fact, there were replies from 16 different countries.

Contributors were asked to choose a film for review from one from their own country which had won an award locally or in international festivals.
At the SIGNIS Congress in Québec, 2017, outgoing president Gustavo Andujar that it was time for the Project to be continued and, so, an invitation has gone out for more contributors to the project.

AN INTRODUCTION TO REVIEWS AND REVIEWING

Two parts: On reviewing and Suggestions for a Reviewing Workshop

ON REVIEWING

Peter Malone

EVERYBODY IS A REVIEWER.

However, from the early days of the cinema, the media has provided commentators who are eager to offer their pros and cons concerning the success or failure of each film. Some of the reviewers themselves became famous, especially American reviewers like James Agee in the 1940s, Pauline Kael in the 1970s and 1980s, and Roger Ebert for many decades, especially with reviewing on television. Some reviews have been published in book collections giving them a status beyond the weekly or monthly appearances in newspapers and magazines.

Since reviewers have also taken to the airwaves and to the electronic media, some become personalities on movie shows and/or introducing movies on television. While review advice is welcome, the film itself can be lost in the personality byplay, the quotable quotes for publicity let alone the 'two thumbs up' syndrome of American reviewers, Siskel and Ebert. The reviewers are put on a showbiz pedestal and are presented as arbiters of taste and quality.

The challenge to those who read reviews or who are fans of the personalities is to be critical of them, assessing the worth of their advice against the reader's own experience.

SO. WHAT DOES A REVIEWER DO?

A reviewer is not the same as a film buff (though many reviewers are buffs).

A film buff loves the cinema, knows the cinema, is at home in the cinema.

A reviewer is not the same as a critic (though many reviewers also write articles of film criticism). A film critic analyses a film, its techniques, its themes, its genre and conventions, usually employing an academic framework for the critique and interpretation.

So, what does a reviewer do? The task of the reviewer is, in writing or in spoken word, to view the film again (re-view) without spoiling it for those who have not yet seen it and are looking for some kind of guidance and recommendation.

A review informs.
A review entertains.
A review evaluates and appreciates.
A review offers advice.

Most of all, a review mediates.

The reviewer is a mediator, sharing a response to a film with others. The reviewer is a privileged mediator, having a background in film culture that is helpful and enlightening to the reader of the review. The reviewer can alert the reader to facets of film-making that may not be familiar, to the 'context' of the film, to issues a film raises. The reviewer is a mediator of film culture—between the makers and the audience.

A review is not, therefore, written merely for the reviewer's own satisfaction but as a communication with a readership, an audience, an audience that is respected.

Yes, this is the ideal for a reviewer. Obviously, it does not always happen in fact.

HOW NOT TO...

I came across the following review many years ago and kept it for an essay like this one. The reviewer's name is not familiar and the paper is no longer published. The subject is the 1975 Academy Ward winner for Best Foreign Film, Dersu Urzala, directed by the celebrated Akira Kurosawa of Japan whose film canon includes Rashomon,The Seven Samurai, Throne of Blood, Yojimbo, Kagemusha, Ran and who needs no defence. The caption read Night of the frustrated climax... and the reviewer was Joe Fairhurst.
AND this piece of nonsense won an academy award? The only difference between this film and an eleven month pregnancy is that inevitably the pregnancy produces IT, though the waiting may play havoc with nervous fathers.

Whatever IT was that director Kurosawa hoped to father eluded this sufferer during a marathon battle with sub-titles and a cast as credible as a computerised telephone bill.

All films have their ups and downs as the director leads his audience along the path, albeit at tunes crooked, to at least one enjoyable climax. The only ups and downs I enjoyed occurred during the intermission as people left their seats.

The film starts promisingly enough with Siberian explorer Vladimir Arseviev searching for the grave of his hunter friend Dersu.

He finds the once-wooded area stripped of its beauty by the bull-dozers... progress has taken over from tranquillity (about the only progress made during this laboured tale)
.
The director then takes a painful 40 minutes building the character of his central figure, Dersu, who accepts an offer to guide the group of explorers through the forests and snow-covered plains of eastern Siberia..

And it is here we find the film's only saving grace...

The camera work and color is superb and makes for a delightful documentary, but, as a motion picture, purporting to entertain the masses, the Jib n is as interesting as a wet afternoon in Lilydale.

The foreign film buff may find some hidden meaning in "Dersu Uzala". No doubt the story loses something in the translation because the sub-titles read more like a Noddy annual.

I, however, was left wondering what the hell it was all about, and left the cinema at three-quarter time, not wishing to push my confusion to the final siren.

The only other film to leave me as mentally frustrated was the over-long James Dean vehicle, "Giant", which, like "Dersu Uzala", should have been brought out as a series of color slides.Sunday Press, April 18, 1976

SOME QUESTIONS

Questions for reviewers obviously arise from this piece of writing (apart from Joe Fairhurst even being there and reviewing a film that was not seen in its entirety):

- how subjective and how objective can a reviewer be? the inter-relationship between personal likes and the film as it stands?

- how interventionist should a reviewer be? how much of I and 'mine' in the review? how obtrusive the personality of the reviewer?

- how critical should a reviewer be, highlighting faults first and then offering overall comment or giving a general view first to place the flaws in context?

- how analytical? contributing to debate about a film's worth?

- how much influence should the policy of the newspaper/ magazine/radio station/television network have on the review?

- how much does the review's audience influence the review?- how does the reviewer keep in mind the range of the audience? age range, interests, experience?

- should the reviewer champion a film?

- should reviewers indicate that they can change their opinion?

And there are many more questions that would come to readers' minds.

Some factors that reviewers have to take into consideration include:

- that there is a danger in assuming a stance or point of view that is 'above' the film or 'superior' to it and presuming that a 'judgment' must be pronounced instead of watching and receiving the film, evaluating it and communicating the process of evaluation.

- the influence of the circumstances of watching the film under review: seeing it once or more, quality of attention paid, tiredness (and sleeping through parts),

- the influence of the audience mood—seeing a comedy or a horror film with a small group of introverted critics, seeing a serious drama with a nervously laughing audience who cannot see the point

- that the movie in its detail, no matter how cheap or quickly-made, may not be appreciated in one viewing

- that known stances of other reviewers can create expectations and influence a response.

REVIEWERS NEED TO TAKE INTO ACCOUNT:

* an encyclopedic clogging of the review with cinema references
* derogatory comparisons to enhance one’s own perspective
* claiming films have been over-rated (of course, I didn't)
* claiming films have been under-rated (of course, I didn't)
* use of words like 'undoubtedly', ‘admittedly’ (my personal infallibility)

OUR DIFFERENT PUBLICS

The reviewers, to be mediators, to be communicators, also need to appreciate the different 'publics' who respond to their medium and to their reviews.

It is well-known that American Variety has recognised that its principal readership consists of industry people who are interested in the profitability of the products. Reviews meet these needs. They are brief, indicate the plot line, highlight the selling points, call attention to marketing problems and use a distinct vocabulary and style that sometimes resembles billboards.
Newspapers know their markets and employ reviewers who will write according to the interests and expectations of the readers. Some will be 'up-market', presupposing knowledge and a greater sophistication of ideas and language. Others will be 'middle-of-the-road', presupposing less sophistication of analysis and vocabulary.

It is the same for magazines with wide circulations. However, many magazines cater for particular interest groups like university students, teachers, church groups. The reviews will be geared to the frameworks and references familiar to the groups.

Successful reviewers recognise these differences in 'publics' and can adapt their writing to a variety of review outlets.

Recognition of the differing publics for the reviews leads to respect for the readership. Reviews which mock or treat the readership condescendingly do not mediate film culture. Respect means acknowledging that people's tastes vary considerably and that this is neither good nor bad, right or wrong. A 'classical' sensibility is to be respected as is a 'popular' sensibility. The reviewer is also attentive to readership sensitivities, what may delight, what may offend and can mediate this information and advice in the review.

A consequence of this is that reviewers are aware of the 'linguistic networks’ in which they are involved, be it film theory, media education, media hype...

ISSUES ARISE:

• The reviewer acknowledging the need for background research and a commitment to it
• How detailed and serious should research be
• Or is the review merely a 'puff piece' akin to some of the publicity kit contents
• What ‘jargon’ does the reviewer rely on – and should it be questions
• Ethical issues of quoting and plagiarism

A short piece that I have added to my collection seems to offend against some of these criteria for reviewing. It is from the American New Republic. The writer is Leon Wieseltier commenting on Woody Alien's Crimes and Misdemeanors.

It is a matter of honor to hate this film. There is not a frame of it that fails to degrade, to debase and to demean something precious. It is the work of a consumer, a voyeur, a coward, a philistine, a creep. It is a stain on the culture that produced it. And I didn't like it. (Quoted in the New York News, 19th November 1989)

Or, on a film that so many people liked and enjoyed:

… that manipulatively (but Oscar-winning) slushbucket, A Beautiful Mind, the memory of which makes me feel positively nauseous. (Sukhdev Sandhu, Daily Telegraph, 9/9/05).

Eminently readable, but not exactly a mediating review!

And, opinions can be quite the opposite on the same film. This is not an actual film but a collection of phrases used derogatively or praisingly:

For:

An overlong, overblown, muddled plot which was predictable and slow-moving, with over-abundant cliches, heavy themes, a phoned-in and sleepwalking performance, studded with stupid lines, bombastic effects, sentimentality relying on the conventions of traditional film-making, with amateur, populist touches.

Against:

And extensive and elaborate, complex plot which offered pleasing anticipation and measured pace, honoured conventions and themes treated with gravitas, cast confident in their roles and quietly assured, accessible dialogue, bravura effects, satisfyingly emotional and using classic film-making style, requiring concentration with fresh touches appealing to a wide audience.

Reviewers develop a skill in writing well and communicating their experience of the quality of a film even when they are not sympathetic to the subject, as in this end of review of The Iron Lady:

It scarcely needs to be said that to try to understand the forces that shaped the controversial Thatcher is not to endorse any of her policies as Britain’s first and only female PM. But to be able to find compassion for this seemingly pitiless woman, as The Iron Lady does, is to rise above her limitations. (Tom Ryan, The Age Magazine, 11 December 2011)

A WORK OF SERVICE

It has been frequently said in relation to the creative arts that those who can't do, teach. Are those who can't be movie-makers reviewers? Certainly, reviewers have the luxury of going to comfortable, complimentary screenings for two hours plus or minus before they go on to the next preview, armchair commentators on the work of those who have gone out and made the films, investing long periods of their life, investing their energy on what might be commercial, artistic or both. Obviously, not every film is a complete success. Nor are many of them complete failures. The perpetual temptation of the reviewer is rash judgment and pontificating—with the yen for infallibility.

Everybody is a reviewer. And everybody likes to talk about the films they have seen. Reviewers have the privilege of being part of many people's review-conversations.

Their work is a service.

A POSTSCRIPT

SOME REVIEW STATEMENTS FOR CONSIDERATION (and some review examples as critical exercises in ‘snootiness’).

1 In its least beguiling moment, Alvin tells a sad runaway a little homily about binding sticks together into a bunch so they won't break. "That's family", he sums up; at which point ill-natured viewers will snarl that Romans used to call such wooden bundles fasces and look where that homely symbol ended up.

Kevin Jackson, Sight and Sound, Dec.1999, p.58. The Straight Story.

2 The Green Mile is from a novel by Stephen King, a less splendid literary source than Patricia Highsmith's The Talented Mr Ripley.

Andrew O'Hagan, Daily Telegraph, Friday, Feb.25th, 2000, p.25.

3. Not least of the film's problems is the fact that location shooting in Waxahachie, using local inhabitants as extras and in small parts, merely underlines the cornball melodrama of this central situation. The story of her struggle against adversity emerges as pure stereotype, with one deus ex machina after another trundled out to give it maximum heartwarming effect.

Places in the Heart is basically just another calculated tug at the heartstrings, ending with an embarrassing wish-fulfilment sequence in which, envisioning the best of all possible worlds, all the characters (including black Moze) celebrate communion in a dream of harmony. Tom Milne, Monthly Film Bulletin, March 1985, p.89-90

4. Madhur Jaffrey's performance (in Cotton Mary) is so embarrassing that I wish I had been wearing a paper bag over my head while watching it. Peter Bradfield, The Guardian, Dec.1999.

5. '... Pip Karmel's admittedly underwhelming first feature.'
Trevor Johnston, Time Out 1565, 14-23 August 2000, p.77.
'Admittedly' by whom?

AND SOME DEROGATORY COMMENTS: AMUSING, BUT…

6. 'Tolerable problem picture with no surprises'
- Halliwell, Fighting Back,

7. Gruesomely cute...............
Nick Fraser, Amelie, Telegraph, A7, 27/4/02

8. derisive chic...............
Nick Fraser on Amelie, Canal Plus and Channel 4, ibid.

9. deeply unmemorable.......
James Christopher, Italian for Beginners, Times 27/4/2002

10. stunningly inept.............
Catherine Shoard, John Q, Sunday Telegraph, 28/4/02

11. number and number...............
Nina Kaplan. Novocaine, Metro, 5/7/02

12. when they gave real thought to mindless violence/ Rollerball

13. cliches... archetypes; cinema is not art but storytelling...
Press kit for Dust

14. His (Val Kilmer's) over-genial, self-deluding joker persona - always look at me performing, always working an angle - fits the film like a Trojan Magnum.
Ben Walters, Wonderland, Sight & Sound, 3/02, p.71

15. ..impeccably ugly. …meat-cleaver continuity. …muddily indecipherable. Dogme… ditchwater housestyle.
Peter Matthews, Festen, Sight and Sound, March 99, 39-40.

16. …cheapjack brutalism. Compellingly unsettling violence. …pushing screeching.

17. Jose Aroyo, Perdita Durango, Sight and Sound.

18…it’s so pleased with itself that it becomes wearing.
Chris Tookey, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Daily Mail, 11/11/05, p. 55

19. Philanthropy spreads through this film like a virulent strain of ebola. It’s a supposedly inspirational fable, but one of horrible, calculated uplift… Well-intentioned, of course, but not at all nice.

20. Tim Robey, Pay it Forward, Daily Telegraph

21. Inconceivably putrid.
Tim Robey, Dead Babies.

22. The confines of the cravenly schematic plot.
Tim Robey, Mona Lisa Smile, Daily Telegraph 12/3/04

23. Wannabe visionaries
Tim Robey, Northfork, Daily Telegraph, 12/3/04

And – there is word choice: Having long filmed himself obsessively, he has collated material accumulated over the years into an an encyclopaedic collage, a manically pulsional art object that, to all intents and purposes, is an analogue for the structures and energies of Caouette’s own consciousness. Jonathan Romney, Tarnation, Sight and Souond, April 05, p.78.

And… a word of sound advice and common sense from novelist, W. Somerset Maugham:
Sentimentality is only sentiment that rubs you up the wrong way.

SUGGESTIONS FOR A REVIEWING WORKSHOP

If there is time to work with the journalists (can be print, radio, television, website), I would propose starting with their being able to identify how they 'tick' as regards their response to movies. This would include helping them to identify their particular sensibilities and sensitivities, personal and cultural, so that they can compare their own traits with those of the general public with whom they communicate.

I see a reviewer and a film journalist as a mediator between a film and the public. This is different from a critic who writes opinion pieces and is not mediating the film.

Other areas for attention if there is time include:

• the need for background research
• the serious background article/presentation
• the 'puff piece'
• jargon and language pitfalls
• interviewing techniques
• editing interviews
• the article based on and incorporating interview material
• an ethics of film journalism

It need not be limited to print journalists. Radio journalists, especially, can do reviews and interviews. Television journalists tend to do interviews and background pieces.

The journalists would work as a group of peers and the training would be to meet their needs and requests as well as input.

OUTLINE

* encyclopedic clogging
* derogatory comparisons to enhance
* over-rated (of course, I didn't)
* under-rated (of course, I didn't)
* 'undoubtedly' (my personal infallibility)

ADJECTIVES

Negative/ Positive

TEDIOUS/ MESMERISING

UNORIGINAL/ CLASSICAL

SLOW/ WELL-PACED

IMPOSSIBLE TO FOLLOW/ CHALLENGING

UNDOUBTEDLY/ BEG TO DIFFER

JAMES ABBOTT

YASMIN

UK, 2004, director Kenneth Glenaan.
Ecumenical Prize, Locarno, 2004.

SHORT REVIEW

Yasmin is a young British Muslim living in Yorkshire in a post-9/11 Islam-unfriendly age. She tries not to fall foul of her father’s desire that she shares – or is seen to share – his orthodoxy of faith.

She is as British as anyone, yet, for the sake of her father’s ‘honour’, clock-watches through her arranged marriage. Predictably, she has a soft spot for a typically Anglo-Saxon?Yorkshireman.

Yasmin feels the pull of her faith but wants to be accepted as the Brit that she is. There are a few clichés but it’s well made and, certainly by the lead, well acted.

LONG REVIEW

Islamaparanoia hit the world not long after the terror attacks of 9/11. As an audacious strike at the people and institutions of the West, the backlash suffered by Muslim communities long embedded in the UK was palpable. For most people, it’s hard to gauge how British-born Muslims would have felt being shoved under the microscope thanks to the murderous actions of a small group of extremists. Kenny Glenaan’s Yasmin attempts to show us.

Yasmin is a young British Muslim living in Yorkshire before, during and after 9/11. She tries not to fall foul of her father’s desire that she shares – or is seen to share – his orthodoxy of faith. She is as British as anyone, yet, for the sake of her father’s ‘honour’, clock-watches through her arranged marriage.

In effect she lives two lives. One in a hijab in a house opposite her father’s – just close enough to cook and deliver the family’s evening meal whilst suffering her apathetic husband (at least until he’s received his UK passport). Her escapism comes in the form of her job as a council worker in a neighbouring town. En route she always stops to change from her hijab into civvies –fighting to hoik up her jeans behind a dry stone wall.

Yasmin feels the pull of her faith but wants to be accepted as the Brit that she is. Where Damien O'Donnell’s East is East uses humour to show the dichotomy between strict Islamic observance and growing up in northern England, Yasmin uses angst and frustration. Being singled out for your culture, skin colour and faith really isn’t a laughing matter here – even if Yasmin and her father both at times apply the quintessentially British stiff upper lip to their trials.

The weak point in the film is the characterisation of Yasmin’s younger brother Nasir. His role is that of the stereotypical disaffected young Muslim. He sings the call to prayer when accompanying his father to the local mosque but behind his back he’s a small-time drug dealer with a hankering for sexual kicks. After experiencing the rough hand of the police under Britain’s terror laws, he is suddenly catapulted into the arms of so-called radical Muslims. This tries to give a concrete, persuasive reason for Nasir’s descent to extremism. However, it’s only about acceptance. If the BNP had offered him a loving home he’d probably have taken it. Delving further into the father/son bond would perhaps have revealed the true reason for Nasir’s emptiness.

The film covers an array of themes – racism, religious intolerance, radicalisation and a dig at the anti-terror laws in place after the al-Qaeda attacks. It owes a lot to Archie Panjabi’s portrayal of Yasmin – utterly persuasive throughout. This is a good film that leaves one or two questions to chew on. Here’s one: Do UK Muslim communities self-ghettoise or is wider society putting up the walls?

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

These are the ten film reviewing commandments I look to follow:

One: if film reviewing isn’t a joy, don’t bother doing it. Receiving a pay cheque is great but reviews, first and foremost, should be attacked with passion and enthusiasm – even if the film under scrutiny is a bit of a stinker.

Two: Know your audience. As with all writing and broadcasting, the fundamental question to be addressed is: who’s reading, listening or watching? What do I know about them? This doesn’t alter one’s opinion of a film but it moulds the review in terms of where you place your emphasis.

Three: Punch in hard and don’t be formulaic. Introductions, for me, are really important. I rarely launch straight in without addressing something that puts the film in perspective/context. Light or heavy, personal or impersonal, I try to come out with something a little different in terms of writing style or approach for the intro.

Four: Don’t repeat the plot verbatim. How far to delve into the storyline is a key component to any review. Give an intro and perhaps a hint or two but spoilers annoy readers more than anything else. Leave it to online forums where people can choose to ruin the cinematic experience ahead of time.

Five: Be true to your original impression of a film. It’s good to get home and write it well before reading the reviews of others. Reviewing can, but shouldn’t, descend into an egofest or a critics’ love-in. Likewise, there’s no point disagreeing with others just to be contrary.

Six: Take some paper to the cinema and learn how to write in the dark. I always take a few pieces of folded over and stapled A4 into the cinema to note a quote or two that, for me, sums up the movie or encapsulate a key moment. Deciphering the angled scrawl has become an integral part of the fun.

Seven: Good research never hurts. I personally like to delve into the filmographies of the actors and directors for a line or two on previous work – particularly if there’s an angle or quirky bit of information. How do films echo others? How do they contrast?

Eight: Take in everything – especially some of the production elements and techniques that are seldom mentioned. In my reviews, the cinematography will get a mention if it’s outstanding as will a dynamic piece of script-writing (not-too-Christian feelings like jealousy are quickly bashed into honourable ones like admiration). I like to look at the use of sound – not just music.

Nine: It doesn’t hurt to find a redeeming feature. I try to come up with something that has stuck with me after an hour-and-a-half in a darkened auditorium. You can usually find something noteworthy – even in the bad ones.

Ten: Don’t black out during a screening! I once settled in for a preview screening at the Twentieth Century Fox theatrette in London, glass of wine in one hand, paper plate of sandwiches in the other. Halfway through – when a bit of blood started to gush – I felt my legs wobbling uncontrollably. That was my last memory for an undisclosed period. I woke up to a lit auditorium with a number of people staring at me as if I’d walked in naked. Neither the glass of wine nor the sandwiches were anywhere to be seen leading to the mortifying possibility that I’d thrown them in the dark. Goodness knows what happened but I’m still scarred by the experience.

BIOGRAPHY

James Abbott is a writer and broadcaster who has been reviewing and commenting on film for over a decade. He wrote on film for the Catholic Herald (London) for several years. He has sat on ecumenical, interfaith and Catholic juries, representing SIGNIS, in Berlin, Tróia, Tehran and on virtual juries in the UK. He also contributed a chapter on Mel Gibson, focusing on The Passion of the Christ, to Through a Catholic Lens: Religious Perspectives of 19 Film Directors from Around the World. He is currently webmaster of catholicchurch.org.uk – the website of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales.

TOM AITKEN UK

BRASSED OFF

UK, 1997,
Directed by Mark Herman

Ecumenical Jury Commendation, Berlin, 1997,

SHORT REVIEW

Brassed Off wears its heart upon a colliery brass band’s braided sleeves and trumpets its message: the pit closures in the 1980s were a cynical government exercise, the attendant consultations fraudulent. Communities, marriages and individual self-respect were ruthlessly trampled upon, even destroyed. But, for all its agit-prop this is a delightful film, packed with interesting and entertaining characters, clear social observation, wry comedy, romance, and moments when you try to pretend (as one of the characters does) that your eyes are mysteriously “leaking”. Plus––a tremendous plus––toe-tapping, open-airish music,
resplendently played by Grimethorpe Colliery Band.

LONG REVIEW

Brassed Off wears its heart upon a colliery brass band’s braided sleeves, and trumpets its message: the pit closures in the 1980s were a cynical government exercise, the attendant consultations fraudulent. Communities, marriages and individual self-respect were trampled ruthlessly underfoot. But, for all the agit-prop, this delightful film is packed with interesting and entertaining characters, clear social observation, wry comedy, romance, and moments when you try to pretend (as one of the characters does) that your eyes are mysteriously “leaking”. Plus––a tremendous plus––toe-tapping, open-airish music, resplendently played by Grimethorpe Colliery Band.

Grimethorpe pit had itself been closed a few years earlier, so the bandsmen had experienced at first hand many of the tensions the film explores: pressure from wives and families to relinquish the expense and time of band membership in order to fight for their jobs, stress, hunger, even physical illness. There are large elements of fairy tale. The band wins the National Championships in London (as Grimethorpe itself did in the year its pit was closed) and one of the several crises which hits them during their preparations is solved by the appearance of a beautiful girl, a returning native, who keeps quiet about why she has returned, but just happens to be a smashing flugelhorn player.

I have some experience in brass bands, and feared the worst before I saw the film. Such bands are frequently treated condescendingly on screen, as if the only possible attitude to the activity must be that it is inherently laughable. Not so here, however. The bandroom atmosphere is authentic, from the ribald language and sexist jokes to the blunt unpretentiousness that turns Concierto de Aranjuez into “Concerto de Orange Juice”. Bandsmen’s wives, despite their earlier objections, cheer loyally at the contest. Throughout you have a sense of both hard-bitten grumpiness and of people doing something they love. Their conductor’s final, earthy, very nearly over the top assertion of human and social values is immediately undercut by some down-to-earth Yorkshire behaviour which I found totally believable.

Conductor Pete Postlethwaite is taut and gaunt and fanatical in his determination to keep the band playing until the heavens fall. Tara Fitzgerald gets some complicated fingerings right as the enigmatic fugelhornist. But this is an ensemble piece, and the entire cast fits precisely into the dramatic and comic narrative, just as the Grimethorphe Band negotiates anything the conductor puts in front of them.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

I have generally reviewed cinema as weekly or occasional critic or lecturer for intelligent people who are interested in but not necessarily expert on film. If I were to find myself writing for a specialist film magazine or journal, I would probably have to increase my specialist vocabulary. I don’t remember ever using, for example, phrases like “the grammar of film” or waxing learned about lenses and filters.

I prefer, borrowing an idea from a distinguished theatre critic, now sadly dead, Kenneth Tynan, to regard myself as a reporter. I report how I felt about sitting in a cinema on a particular date, watching a particular film in company with a particular audience. I emphasise the idea of particularities deliberately; I don’t really believe that there is such a thing as a wholly objective review written entirely independently of the factors I have mentioned.

The point was brought home to me early in the year 2000 when I saw Kenneth Branaugh’s Love’s Labours Lost twice. The first time was at the Berlin Film Festival. The film was not in competition but was shown late at night to a packed, relaxing audience in a large cinema. It was a riot. Every music number was applauded, as if we were attending a hit stage musical. Laughter was in the force nine category of “gales of laughter”. Branagh, understandably, thanked the audience effusively for giving his effort such a good send off. A few weeks later, on a damp and cold Monday morning, I saw the film again with the London film critics, in a screening room in Soho. This time there was absolute silence. No derision, no particular
complaint – just silence.

Had I had to write about the film after my first viewing I suppose (or hope) that I might have picked up on some of the reservations I think I had felt but with an audience reaction such as I had observed still ringing in my ears, I would probably have written more positively than I did after I had seen it a second time.

To return to the idea of reporting: the first part of the job is to give your readers an idea of what sort of film you have seen and what it contains. This does not, of course, mean that you should include a plot summary. Plot summaries of films, plays and novels are almost invariably very tedious, since everything that has been put into the film by director and cast, designer and cameraman, is missing. Furthermore, some readers will not want to see the film if they think they know what happens. But it is often helpful to give some account of how the action begins. Similarly, when it comes to praising or criticizing those who make, or fail to make, the film good, it is best to avoid mentioning too many names, particularly when there is a large cast. This is partly a matter of length. You will see that for this presentation we have been asked to review the same film in 100 words and again in 400. 100 words allows for a bare minimum of information and comment. 400 gives more freedom – but only comparatively.

Sometimes a reviewer may have special knowledge of an area of life or subject matter covered by a film. It seems reasonable to make use of this but some restraint is required, especially when your knowledge outside of the film is connected with having read, studied or reviewed the book on which it is based. You have to ask yourself how interested your readers are likely to be in how familiar you are with a novel by Dickens or James or Solzhenitsyn or whoever, from which a film is drawn. Or, for that matter, how much they care about your historical knowledge (or lack of it) concerning, say, medieval France, or Jerusalem at the time of the crucifixion. The importance of these considerations will differ according to the nature of the original material and the seriousness of the film’s intentions. But your first responsibility is to review a film. In some cases, as with Brassed Off, the field of special knowledge is comparatively esoteric and I felt that my remarks about the authenticity of the scenes in the bandroom and such matters were relevant. But if you find yourself feeling that, say, a favourite novel of yours has been greatly misrepresented by a screen version, you should, as a reporter of your own sense of what has been done, mention it in a very few words, then move on to look at what is actually in the film. A film based on a novel is necessarily a separate work of art and has to be judged on those terms.

There remains one responsibility that a reviewer owes to chis readers and editor: what is written must be lively and interesting enough for readers to stay with it to the end. Otherwise you have wasted your time and theirs.

BIOGRAPHY

Born 1941, in New Zealand, and educated at Victoria University of Wellington. In 1959 won the Lincoln Memorial Essay award organised by the American Information Service. Taught History, English and Drama in secondary/grammar schools in New Zealand and England before becoming a freelance writer in the early Eighties. Directed theatrical productions ranging from Offenbach to Shakespeare.

Contributed essays on Film and Thelogy to Cinéma Divinité (SCM Press, 2005) and to Through a Catholic lens (ed. Peter Malone, Sheed & Ward 2007). Has contributed to: The Times, The Times Literary Supplement, The Guardian, The Charleston Magazine, The Tablet, The War Cry, The Christian Century, The Church Times, The Jewish Chronicle, Winds, Brass Bulletin and The British Bandsman. Was Film Critic of The Tablet for eight years and served on film festival juries in Berlin, Venice and Setubal, Portugal.

Has lectured at St Deiniol’s Library (The Gladstone Memorial Library) on cinematic topics and on Gladstone himself. He became a Fellow of St Deiniol’s Library in 2008.

Also lectured also at the Graham Greene Festival in Berkhamstead, 2003-05. His Ways of Affirmation and Ways of Escape: Graham Greene in Mexico and the Congo, has been published as an occasional paper by the Graham Greene Birthplace Trust Has published verse in Ambit, The Spectator and elsewhere. His book on the political history of the Abbey of Monte Cassino is being considered for publication.

GUSTAVO ANDUJAR

FRESA Y CHOCOLATE (STRAWBERRY AND CHOCOLATE)

Strawberry and Chocolate / Cuba / 1993 / color, 110 min. / Directors: Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and Juan Carlos Tabío / Producers: Miguel Mendoza and Camilo Vives / Screenplay: Senel Paz / Cinematographer: Mario García Joya / Music: José María Vitier / Editors: Osvaldo Donatién, Rolando Martínez and Miriam Talavera / Art Director: Fernando O’Reilly?/ With Jorge Perugorría (Diego), Vladimir Cruz (David) and Mirta Ibarra (Nancy).

OCIC Award at the XV International Film Festival of New Latin American Cinema, Havana, 1993.

SHORT REVIEW

En La Habana de finales de los setentas, Diego, homosexual culto y conocedor del arte, pero marginado en su trabajo, trata infructuosamente de seducir a David, heterosexual y ferviente militante de la juventud comunista cuyas pretensiones de hacerse escritor chocan con su deficiente educación y escasa cultura, y finalmente se convierte en amigo y mentor de éste. Encantadora comedia que denuncia, con su mirada agudamente crítica sobre la ideológicamente cerrada sociedad cubana, la empobrecedora marginación de lo diverso, y propone una tolerancia basada en el diálogo sincero y el respeto a la dignidad de las personas.

SHORT REVIEW

In Havana of the late seventies, Diego, a young homosexual, very cultured and a true connoisseur, but marginalized in his work, tries unsuccessfully to seduce David, heterosexual and fervent militant of the Communist Youth, whose aspiration to become a writer clashes with his poor education and sheer ignorance about art. Finally, Diego becomes David’s mentor and best friend. This charming comedy denounces, with its sharply critical view on the ideologically closed Cuban society, the damaging marginalization of the different, advocating a tolerance based on true dialog and the respect for the dignity of people.

LONG REVIEW

En La Habana de finales de los setentas, Diego, homosexual culto y conocedor del arte, pero marginado en su trabajo, trata infructuosamente de seducir a David, heterosexual y ferviente militante de la juventud comunista cuyas pretensiones de hacerse escritor chocan con su deficiente educación y escasa cultura, y finalmente se convierte en amigo y mentor de éste.

Con esta historia profundamente humana, Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, el más importante de los realizadores cinematográficos cubanos, aborda el tema de la intolerancia, expresada en el rechazo y la marginación de lo diverso. Encantadora comedia realizada con muy modestos recursos, en el peor momento de la crisis económica que silenció a la cinematografía nacional a mediados de los noventas, Fresa y chocolate demuestra el poder de una puesta en escena creativa, unas buenas interpretaciones que dan vida a personajes bien construidos y, sobre todo, una historia bien contada. Es la película más premiada de la historia del cine cubano, con galardones recibidos en cerca de 30 festivales y concursos en Cuba y en el extranjero. En el XV Festival Internacional del Nuevo Cine Latinoamericano, en La Habana, 1993, acumuló diez de los más importantes premios, incluyendo los de los jurados internacionales de FIPRESCI y OCIC, y ha sido la única película cubana que ha representado a América Latina como candidata al Oscar en la categoría de película en idioma extranjero.

Algunos han aclamado la película como un alegato en defensa de los derechos de los homosexuales, lo cual es erróneo, no por falso, sino por reduccionista. Diego (un magistral Jorge Perugorría) sufre marginación porque es un homosexual en una sociedad raigalmente machista, pero también porque es una persona de amplia cultura artística en una sociedad que por razones ideológicas desconfía hasta la obsesión de toda corriente artística occidental y porque atesora tradiciones culturales genuinamente cubanas que son despreciadas, en un derroche de estupidez, como rezagos decadentes de un pasado supuestamente superado. Profundamente enamorado de su país y su ciudad, siente que se le trata como un enemigo, se rechaza lo mucho que puede aportar y se le niega el espacio que es legítimamente suyo. Las ruinas que muestran la decadencia física de la ciudad devienen impactante metáfora de un deterioro espiritual que se manifiesta en doblez, simulación y traición.

Fresa y chocolate denuncia, con su mirada agudamente crítica sobre la ideológicamente cerrada sociedad cubana, la empobrecedora marginación de lo diverso, y propone una tolerancia basada en el diálogo sincero y el respeto a la dignidad de las personas.

Fresa y chocolate / Cuba / 1993 / color, 110 min. / Dirección: Tomás Gutiérrez Alea y Juan Carlos Tabío / Producción: Miguel Mendoza y Camilo Vives / Guión: Senel Paz / Fotografía: Mario García Joya / Música: José María Vitier / Edición: Osvaldo Donatién, Rolando Martínez y Miriam Talavera / Escenografía: Fernando O’Reilly?/ Intérpretes: Jorge Perugorría (Diego), Vladimir Cruz (David) y Mirta Ibarra (Nancy).
Premio OCIC en el XV Festival Internacional del Nuevo Cine Latinoamericano, La Habana 1993

LONG REVIEW

In late seventies’ Havana, Diego, a young homosexual, very cultured and a true connoisseur who is marginalized in his work, tries unsuccessfully to seduce David, heterosexual and fervent militant of the Communist Youth, whose aspiration to become a writer clashes with his poor education and sheer ignorance about art. Finally, Diego becomes David’s mentor and best friend.

With this deeply human story Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, the most important Cuban film director, takes on intolerance, expressed as rejection and marginalization of that which is different. This charming comedy, produced with a very low budget at the worst moment of the deep economical crisis which silenced the national film industry in the nineties, demonstrates the power of a creative mise en scène, of good acting giving life to well designed characters and, most of all, of a story well told. It is the most widely recognized movie in the history of Cuban filmmaking, with some 30 awards in festivals and competitions in Cuba and abroad. At the XV International Festival of the New Latin American Cinema in Havana, 1993, it deserved 10 of the most importants awards, including those of the international juries of FIPRESCI and OCIC, and it has been the only Cuban film ever to be nominated for Latin America to the Oscar, in the category of Film in a Foreign Language.

Some have acclaimed the film as an appeal in favor of the rights of homosexuals, which is not altogether false, but is certainly reductive. Diego (a superb Jorge Perugorría) is marginalized for being a homosexual in a society with a deeply rooted machismo, but also for being a person with a vast artistic culture in a society pathologically distrustful of any western artistic trend, and for treasuring genuinely Cuban cultural traditions which are wrongly despised as decadent memories of an allegedly buried past. Deeply in love with his country and his city, he resents being treated as an enemy while all he could contribute is rejected and the space to which he is legitimately entitled is denied to him. The ruins showing the physical decadence of the city are a metaphor for a spiritual deterioration that surfaces as deception, simulation and treason.

Strawberry and Chocolate denounces, with its sharply critical view of the ideologically closed Cuban society, the damaging marginalization of the different, as it advocates a tolerance based on true dialog and the respect for the dignity of people.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

Fue cuando comencé a escribir este recuento sobre mi método personal para reseñar películas, que comprendí hasta qué punto mi procedimiento para hacer las reseñas era intuitivo y falto de sistematicidad. A pesar de eso, continué escribiendo la nota, y he descubierto que hay, después de todo, un número de regularidades en la manera en que acometo la tarea, no tantas como para escribir un vademécum sobre el tema, pero sí suficientes como para compartir algunas ideas con otros miembros de SIGNIS que también reseñan películas.

Se dice a menudo, y con mucha razón, que en cada exhibición de un filme se presentan tantas películas diferentes como espectadores haya en la sala. Cada uno de nosotros ve una película –cualquier película– desde sus propios antecedentes personales, y en unas circunstancias específicas, lo cual convierte el ver una película en una experiencia muy personal.

Por supuesto, lo mismo ocurre con los críticos de cine, y esa es la razón por la cual las reseñas difieren tanto unas de otras, en estilo y en sustancia. Es también la razón por la cual a veces los más respetados críticos de cine tienen opiniones tan diferentes sobre la misma película. Ésta es la base para el primer principio que aplico cuando evalúo una película: Dar siempre LA PROPIA opinión, no para impresionar a los demás, sino para compartirla honestamente con ellos. En incontables discusiones de películas en grupos he experimentado situaciones en las que personas que según cualquier criterio serían consideradas analfabetas en temas de cine, hicieron los comentarios más perspicaces y esclarecedores.

Hay un segundo principio, también basado en la singularidad de la experiencia personal con las películas: tratar de no ser excesivamente categórico en las opiniones que se expresan. Después de todo, otros que vieron la misma película, tuvieron una experiencia totalmente diferente. Reseñar películas con justicia requiere, por tanto, tener el tacto de admitir que hay gran espacio para otros puntos de vista, muchos de ellos totalmente diferentes de, o incluso contrarios a, el de quien elabora la reseña.

Aparte de seguir estos dos principios generales, hay un esquema básico que trato de respetar para elaborar la reseña, y que consta de tres partes: a) una sinopsis de la trama; b) una evaluación sobre la base de los méritos artísticos; c) una consideración de la película desde el punto de vista de los valores morales.

Es esencial incluir una sinopsis de la trama, y es mejor ponerla al principio, de modo que el lector que todavía no ha visto la película no podría tener una mejor gratitud de las observaciones del crítico. La sinopsis debe ser tan breve como sea posible: lo suficientemente informativa como para dar una idea de qué trata la película, sin contar toda la historia. En particular, debe evitarse a toda costa revelar detalles inesperados o sorprendentes.

Una vez que se ha dado una idea general sobre la trama de película, paso usualmente a las consideraciones estéticas, a menudo expresando mi impresión general sobre la película en una oración breve que incluya uno o dos adjetivos cuidadosamente seleccionados. La disponibilidad de espacio determina, por supuesto, la extensión con la que pueden tratarse los aspectos específicos, pero debe darse a esta parte una atención especial, ya que una crítica de SIGNIS es ante todo un instrumento de educación para los medios. Supone compartir con los lectores la experiencia personal –y en muchos sentidos única– que tuvo el crítico de esa película, pero es también una oportunidad de ayudar a esos lectores para mantenerse al día en cuanto al lenguaje, siempre en evolución, del cine contemporáneo, destacando logros cinematográficos importantes, ofreciendo información relevante sobre los cineastas y sus trabajo previos o relacionados, indicando las semejanzas y las diferencias con películas similares o relacionadas, etcétera.
Debe darse atención especial a la manera en que la película refleja y entra en diálogo con la cultura que la produce. Éste es siempre un tema de la mayor relevancia, pero es
particularmente importante en nuestro entorno global de comunicación, dominado por occidente, destacar la afirmación de valores culturales locales en las películas.

Por último, pero no por ello menos importante, está la consideración de los aspectos morales, que generalmente pongo al final de la evaluación. Debido a que la promoción de valores ha estado siempre en un lugar prioritario en el enfoque de SIGNIS sobre el cine, encuentro más apropiado situarla al final en la reseña, con la intención de dejar a los lectores las ideas expresadas sobre este tema para que las consideren adicionalmente.

Hay un "enfoque de SIGNIS" de los aspectos morales de las películas, que se ha desarrollado durante los 80 años de trabajo de OCIC y SIGNIS. No se resume en un conjunto de reglas o pautas específicas, pero puede ser claramente comprendido, por ejemplo, estudiando los premios que OCIC y SIGNIS otorgan en los festivales. Quizás la característica
más sobresaliente de este enfoque es su amplitud de miras.

Mientras que muchas películas plantean dilemas morales muy difíciles, el "enfoque de SIGNIS" es notablemente no sectario, siempre dispuesto a considerar cada conflicto humano posible, sin importar cuán oscuros sean los rincones del corazón humano que se exploran en la película, siempre dispuesto a encontrar semillas del Espíritu en todos valores humanos, siempre seguro de que la misericordia de Dios es infinita y las personas son capaces de redención.
Al abordar las cuestiones morales de las películas, SIGNIS en general favorece:

- Destacar los valores presentes, más que denunciar los anti-valores. Deben enfatizarse los valores humanos universales, una buena pauta para identificar los cuales es la relación de los frutos del espíritu dada por San Pablo en Gál. 4, 22: "... los frutos del espíritu son la caridad, la alegría y la paz, la paciencia, la comprensión hacia los demás, la generosidad y la fidelidad, la amabilidad y el autocontrol." Los otros valores derivan de éstos o están estrechamente relacionados con ellos.

- Evitar las cadenas interminables de juicios y condenas. La crítica debe ejercerse con calma y la paciencia.

En cuanto al estilo literario, no estoy contra la elegancia, pero prefiero un enfoque más bien directo y sencillo. Las reseñas de SIGNIS no deben ser artículos críticos de gran elaboración, orientados a complacer a minorías eruditas. Cuando abordan asuntos complicados, deben hacerlo de una manera clara y comprensible; deben ser informados, pero no eruditos; bien escritos, pero no excesivamente elaborados.

Finalmente, encuentro conveniente, si el espacio disponible lo permite, incluir una ficha técnica del filme, tan amplia como sea posible.
--------------
When I began writing this account of my personal approach to film reviewing, I came to realize just how intuitive and unsystematic my reviewing was. I went on with writing the note, anyway, and I have discovered that there are, after all, a number of regularities in the way I deal with the task –nothing to write a vade mecum about, but enough to share with other SIGNIS reviewers.

It is often said, and rightfully so, that in every screening of a film, as many different films are watched as there are people watching. Each and every one of us watches a film –any film– from his or her own personal background, as well as under specific circumstances, making the watching of a film a very personal experience.

It is of course the same with film reviewers, which is the reason why film reviews come in such a great variety, both in style and substance. It is also the reason why the most respected film critics sometimes have so widely different opinions on the same film. This is the basis for the first principle I apply when reviewing a film: always give YOUR opinion, not to make an impression, but to honestly share it. In countless group discussions of films I have experienced situations where people who would by any account be considered cinema illiterates made the most perceptive, enlightening observations.

There is a second principle, also based on the uniqueness of the personal experience of films: try not to be overly categorical in your opinions. Others, who watched the same film you did, experienced a completely different movie. Fair film reviewing requires, thus, to tactfully allow space for other insights, many of them quite different from, or even contrary to, that of the reviewer.

Apart from following these two general principles, I try to adhere to a basic review structure including three parts: a) a synopsis of the story; b) an evaluation on the basis of artistic merit; c) a consideration of the film from the point of view of moral values.

It is essential to include a synopsis of the story, and it is best to place it at the beginning, so that the reader who has not yet seen the film may have a better appreciation of the reviewer’s observations. The synopsis must be as short as possible - informative enough to give an idea of what the film is about, without telling the whole story. Spoilers, in particular, must be avoided at all costs.

Once that the film story has been outlined, I usually go into aesthetic considerations, often beginning by stating my general impression on the film in a short sentence including one or two carefully chosen adjectives. The availability of space dictates, of course, the extent to which specific aspects can be discussed, but special attention must be given to this part, since a SIGNIS film review is first and foremost a media education instrument. It involves sharing the reviewer’s personal –and in many ways unique– experience of that film with the readers, but it is also an opportunity to help those readers to keep abreast of the ever evolving language of contemporary cinema, by highlighting important cinematic achievements, presenting relevant information about the filmmakers and their previous and related work, pointing out similarities and differences with similar or related films, etc.

Special attention should be given to the way in which the film reflects and dialogs with the culture producing it. This is always a most relevant matter, but it is particularly important, in our western-dominated global communication environment, to highlight the affirmation of local cultural values in films.

Last, but not least, is the consideration of moral aspects, which I usually place at the end of the review. Since the promotion of values has always come first in the SIGNIS approach to films, I find it most appropriate for it to be the last item in the review, in order to leave the readers with the ideas expressed about this subject for further consideration.

There is a “SIGNIS approach” to the moral aspects of films, developed during 80 years of OCIC and SIGNIS. It is not summarized in sets of specific rules or guidelines, but it can be clearly understood, for example, by studying the OCIC and SIGNIS awards given at festivals. Perhaps the most outstanding feature of this approach is its broadmindedness.
Whereas many films pose very difficult moral dilemmas, the “SIGNIS approach” is notably non-sectarian, always ready to consider every possible human conflict, no matter how dark the corners of the human heart explored in the film be, always willing to find seeds of the Spirit in all human values, always certain that God’s mercy is infinite and people are capable of redemption.

When dealing with the moral issues of a film, SIGNIS generally favors:

Highlighting values present in films, rather than denouncing anti-values. Universal human values should be emphasized, a good guideline to identifying them being the list of the fruits of the Spirit given by St. Paul in Gal. 4, 22: “...the fruit of the Spirit is charity, joy and peace, patience, understanding of others, kindness and fidelity, gentleness and self-control.” Other values derive from these or are closely related to them.

Avoiding being judgmental and issuing condemnations. Criticism is to be exercised with calm and patience.

As to literary style, I am not against elegance, but I favor a rather straightforward approach. SIGNIS reviews should not be high-end critical pieces intended to please learned minorities. When tackling complex issues, they should do it in a clear and understandable way; they should be informed, but not erudite; well written, but not overly elaborated.
Finally, I usually find convenient, if space allows, to include a credits list, as comprehensive as possible.

BIOGRAPHY

ADRIAN L BACCARO

LEONERA/ LION’S DEN

Argentina/ Corea del Sur/ Brasil, 2008,
113 minutos
Director: Pablo Trapero

Premio SIGNIS: (fuente: signis.net)
"Leonera": Premio SIGNIS en el Festival de La Habana 2008
El jurado internacional de SIGNIS, que celebró este año sus bodas de plata en el festival habanero, fundamentó el premio "por mostrar cómo en una realidad tan dura como es la cárcel de mujeres embarazadas, es posible encontrar un sentido por el que la vida merece ser vivida en primera persona".

SHORT REVIEW

La palabra leonera nos remite etimológicamente al lugar en que se encierran los leones o a una habitación muy desordenada. Sin embargo una acepción ligada al mundo de la justicia penal nos indica que la leonera es el espacio donde los acusados aguardan el momento de ingresar al tribunal donde dictamina la justicia. En este sentido la película nos introduce en la experiencia de su protagonista, Julia, que de tener una vida normal se ve involucrada en un crimen y como consecuencia del mismo trasladada a prisión. Más allá de la presunta culpabilidad de Julia, el verdadero drama se desata a partir de una maternidad primero rechazada y después aceptada gozosamente. Instalada en una cárcel para madres que conviven con sus hijos en la primera crianza hasta los cuatro años, Julia se rebela con toda su potencia y dignidad cuando la separan de su hijo.

LONG REVIEW

¿Qué sensaciones físicas, mentales y espirituales se revelan en una persona cuando de pronto e irremediablemente esta persona se despierta a su nueva vida en un espacio totalmente diferente y ajeno al de su pertenencia anterior? No importa cual sea la identidad; si esta se quiebra, el cuerpo y el alma pasarán de un primer estado de asombro ante lo nuevo, que inicialmente se puede traducir como parálisis, a una incipiente adaptación, para ir recuperando de a poco y a como de lugar, al menos parte de la libertad perdida (y aquí defino pérdida de la libertad como la sensación de imposibilidad de tomar cualquier decisión). Si en las primeras imágenes del film, el mencionado transplante pasa primero de cierta sensación de normalidad a la evidencia de los signos de una muerte, en la secuencia siguiente el pasaje será de la libertad física al encierro en la prisión; la configuración de este pasar se potencia al adquirir el espectador el conocimiento, y la protagonista la conciencia, de su condición de futura madre. De dar vida a dar muerte, de ser libre a ser cautivo, de ser mujer a ser madre, los estados del ser viajan en un tiempo turbulento hasta llegar a una nueva armonía.

Aunque nuestra protagonista en un principio se resista y quiera ejercer la violencia contra lo que habita en su propio cuerpo (carne de su carne, carne de su cárcel, cárcel de su carne), será inevitable para Julia que la felicidad, siempre en potencia, no empiece a ser recuperada a partir del amor que ella aprenderá a ejercer de la mano de sus nuevas madres-compañeras de prisión. La secuencia donde las madres llevan a sus hijos en sus cochecitos paseándolos en la prisión y compartiendo sus juegos con una música extremadamente alegre después de tanta desdicha, nos dice, como pocas veces en el cine, que la felicidad de una comunidad, aún en el peor de los infiernos, es posible. Entonces la pasividad inicial se volverá energía pura y resistencia impaciente ante la forzada separación del hijo, principal fuente de la ilusión de una nueva dicha.

Aquel momento de locura donde la protagonista se rebela ante la certeza de la separación, derivará pacientemente hacia formas inteligentes que implicarán a la postre salir definitivamente del lugar de pasaje a nuevas formas de libertad que solo se podrán reconstruir en el futuro. No sabremos casi nada de Julia, ni cómo era antes, ni cómo será después de sus ritos de pasaje por aquellos espacios donde nunca soñó transitar. Sin embargo intuimos que hubo algo, cierto estado de decadencia personal que la lleva hasta su prisión. En la leonera todo será duro aprendizaje. Nada sabremos tampoco de su devenir. Aunque nos llene de esperanza.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Antes de reflexionar sobre algunas características de la metaescritura sobre el cine, debo hacer una referencia a mi pubertad. Desde los 11 años empecé a leer las críticas de los diarios y a escribir las propias luego de ver una película (unas 80 por año); eran mediados de los setenta y recuerdo perfectamente como me llamaba la atención los palmarés de OCIC en las publicidades de los films, sobretodo porque empecé a ver esas películas y a descubrir un mundo más allá de Hollywood. No puedo afirmar ahora si El arbol de los zuecos (Ermanno Olmi), Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky) o Padre, Padrone (Hermanos Taviani), tuvieron premios OCIC, pero por ahí andaba el tema. Y estas películas me resultaban fascinantes, mundos y experiencias increíbles, imposibles de soñar.

Hace algunos años Signis me dio la posibilidad de participar del Proyecto Cine Mundo Chico en Argentina y hoy mi trajinar docente me permite acercarme y reflexionar con mis alumnos adolescentes sobre películas/experiencias donde ellos mismos son los protagonistas, en films como El Bola (Achero Mañas), Machuca (Andrés Word) o Ahora o Nunca (Gabrielle Muccino), entre tantas otras.

Me interesa, tanto en las películas sobre las que escribo como en la que trabajo con adolescentes y adultos, partir de las emociones que nos transmiten las historias, pensar en qué es aquello que nos conmueve y por qué. Repensar desde la propia experiencia, descubrir mundos nuevos, comprender la diversidad cultural, que es aquello en lo que nos parecemos a los personajes y sus mundos, y que es aquello que nos diferencia de ellos, siempre sobre la base del respeto hacia el otro.

Uno puede creer que elige las películas sobre las que escribe; sí, es cierto que nuestra mirada crítica nos hace llegar a lugar impensados y que tenemos una predisposición casi innata, a buscar más allá de las superficies de lo comercial; pero estoy tentado a decir que las películas nos eligen a nosotros; nos interpelan, nos motivan, nos dicen aquí no terminan las cosas (luego del The End), debes decir algo sobre esto. ¿Para qué? Para afirmar siempre que hay un cine que nos ayuda y nos enseña a vivir, hay un cine que nos cambia y con ello transforma la realidad, y que además esas enseñanzas no se terminan nunca, porque nuestros mundos siempre están llenos de problemas de los que tenemos que hacernos cargo para que las cosas mejoren y para que nuestras vidas tengan nuevas esperanzas y utopías.

Para escribir prefiero no hacerlo sobre una primera visión, aunque las sensaciones que me provoca esa primera vista son una guía intuitiva sobre los temas que me interesará marcar. De este primer nivel emocional paso luego, en una segunda visión, a un análisis racional, donde me resulta imprescindible armar la escala de secuencias para entender con mayor profundidad la lógica del relato y donde a su vez observo detalles visuales o fragmentos de diálogos que por lo general refuerzan las primeras intuiciones. Para mi resulta imposible no buscar interrelaciones entre las historias que nos cuenta la película y las experiencias propias, no solo experiencias de vida sino también relacionadas con la reflexión expresada en otros textos propios y ajenos (literarios, pero también audiovisuales, gráficos, etc.). Finalmente viene la escritura que intento se expanda de manera libre, casi automática, como guiada por una mano invisible, a la que tendré que darle una formalización adecuada para intentar comunicar las ideas de una manera mas o menos comprensible y amena. Entiendo que la intención final es promover que el lector se acerque a la obra dándole algunas razones de por qué puede ser importante esta aproximación, así como contribuir con elementos conceptuales para una reflexión que contribuya a promover la sensibilidad social sobre los problemas contemporáneos.

BIOGRAPHY

Vive en Buenos Aires, República Argentina; tiene 45 años, es Licenciado en Ciencias de la Comunicación Social (UBA- Universidad de Buenos Aires), Realizador de Cine y Video del Instituto de Arte Cinematográfico (Escuela de Avellaneda, especialización documental) y Postgraduado en Capacitación Docente para Polimodal y Enseñanza General Básica 3. Actualmente maestrando e investigador de la Universidad de Nacional de Quilmes en la Maestria en Políticas y Gestión de Industrias Culturales. Educomunicador y docente especializado en asignaturas de Comunicación, Medios y Lenguaje Audiovisual, para niños, adolescentes y adultos. Coautor del libro libro “Plano Secuencia, 20 películas argentinas para reafirmar la democracia”, escribe comentarios de films y fichas didácticas para trabajar con el cine en el aula en diversas publicaciones y paginas web. Realizador de varios cortometrajes documentales. Fue Jurado Signis en los Festivales de Mar del Plata, BAFICI (Buenos Aires) y San Sebastián; forma parte también las Delegaciones Internacionales de Signis en la IV y V Cumbre Mundial de Medios para Niños y Jóvenes, en Rio de Janeiro, 2004 y Johannesburgo, 2007.

LLOYD BAUGH CANADA

JESUS OF MONTREAL
Canada, 1989, directed by Denys Arcand

SHORT REVIEW

Denys Arcand’s Jesus of Montreal (1989) examines the complex issue of representing Jesus in film. The film proceeds on two parallel and then converging levels. On the first level, Arcand represents the efforts of Daniel, a bright, courageous young actor to produce a Passion play on the grounds of a Catholic shrine in Montreal. On a second level, he represents a number of scenes from the Passion, in which the actor-director plays the role of Jesus. When the play runs into problems with the authorities of the shrine and then with the law, the experience of Daniel converges with that of Jesus, making him a classical Christ-figure.

LONG REVIEW, INCLUDING CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

Denys Arcand’s Jesus of Montreal (1989), probably the most-popular Canadian film ever made, not only provides a great entertainment experience but more importantly, it investigates in new, original and challenging ways, many of the complex issues involved in the representation of Jesus in film.

This makes it a valuable film text to use in the context of the Christian community and the Christian experience: in religion, spirituality and theology courses, in seminars and discussion groups, and for retreats and prayer experiences.

Arcand structures his film in two parallel narratives that he then has converge and cross. In one, he represents the efforts of Daniel, a talented young actor, to produce a Passion play at a Catholic shrine in Montreal. Then at several points within that story, Arcand represents scenes of the Passion play that Daniel and his friends write and perform; Daniel himself plays the role of Jesus.

A demythologizing text, very popular with audiences, the play gets Daniel in serious trouble with the authorities of the shrine and with the law. From the beginning of the film, Arcand develops parallels between the experience of Daniel and that of Jesus, but as the clouds gather around the young actor-director, his suffering converges with the Passion of the Jesus he is representing, making Daniel a classical Christ-figure.

Arcand’s film is particularly important in the Jesus-film tradition because it is the only film that represents the Gospel narrative both directly and metaphorically, and has the same actor represent both Jesus and the Christ-figure. This unique characteristic offers some strong challenges to viewers—believers and non-believers—regarding the relevance of the Gospel to life in the world today.

Arcand’s film also develops a multifaceted sociopolitical critique of post-modern, post-Christian French- Canadian society, that also clearly extends far beyond that culture. The institutional Church is subjected to strong criticism—the priest-director of the shrine is the saddest, most tragic character in the film—but at the same time, Arcand decries the loss of faith and religious culture that for centuries had characterized Quebec society.

Then beyond the religious dimension of contemporary culture, the film levels its most bitter attacks on the mass media and the legal profession: media people are compared to the money-changers in the Temple violently rejected by Jesus, and a sleazy lawyer becomes a powerful metaphor of Satan.

If, in his previous and bleak film, The Decline of the American Empire (1986), Arcand’s strong social and moral criticism of Quebec society offers no way out, no hope, in Jesus of Montreal, and his professed agnosticism notwithstanding, he proposes much hope in the courage and integrity of Daniel and his friends, and in the Christian model of experience they live out.

To establish the context for this reflection on how I write film reviews, I will begin by saying that I am an academic and have worked in university settings for many years. In my early academic formation, I did degrees in English literature that have determined several dimensions of my approach to cinema: the treatment of a film as a text, with structure, plot, characters and settings; the analysis of symbols as expressive; the focus not only on what a film means but on how it communicates that meaning.

My later formation as a Jesuit added two elements to my academic baggage: theological categories and themes and formal studies in film esthetics and history. These determined the theme of my doctoral dissertation, which developed an interdisciplinary film/theology approach to cinema that continues to mark my teaching and writing twenty years later. Further, the pastoral-sacramental ministry that is a significant dimension of my identity as a priest continually modulates my hermeneutic when I write about cinema.

The most fundamental aspect of my consideration of a film is that of knowing and respecting my audience: their age, cultural composition, education and the specific occasion of the writing. Writing comments on Scorsese’s Last Temptation of Christ for a parish Sunday bulletin and for a graduate theology seminar, call for different approaches.

Further, my experience is that most audiences look for the meaning of a film in its content, in what the film says, without giving serious consideration to its form, its style, to how it says what it says. In doing so, they miss a wide range of the film’s expressive strategies. A film is a film, not a novel, poem or painting, and its filmic nature must be understood and appreciated. When I write about a film, I focus on how its meaning is communicated by both its content and its style, in the rich dynamic between the story it tells and the stylistic and technical strategies adopted by the director that move the narrative in a given direction and shape its meaning. Pasolini’s Gospel According to St. Matthew is a classic example of the importance of this twofold approach.

My interest in a film usually involves identifying and evaluating its theological or religious significance. Sometimes this is a straightforward procedure, e.g., when dealing with a Jesus-film, where the theological themes are clear and explicit. It is more challenging when the film makes no reference to God or religion, or indeed seems to negate God and the spiritual dimension of human experience. My position is that such a film text, if it is created with moral and artistic integrity, e.g., Kieslowski’s Decalogue Nine, has theological meaning, albeit implicit, discernible in the anthropology of the director, in the dynamic of the relationships among the characters, in their moral choices, and in the director’s critique of society and even of religion and the Church.

Typically, Christian audiences presume that the only valid approach to a Jesus film or a film about some issue of Christian belief, is by using the Gospel text and theology as a hermeneutic to decipher and critique the film text. The Gospel and Christian teaching are the standard, they control and judge the film, sometimes imposing themselves harshly and often merely pointing out where the narrative of the film diverges from the gospels. Though this can be valid exercise, I also operate another approach, by changing the movement of the interpretative dynamic. Reversing the hermeneutical flow has the advantage of respecting the film text, allowing it to comment on the Gospel and to suggest new and fruitful dimensions, meanings and applications of the biblical and Christian tradition.

Following the lead of the French philosopher, Paul Ricoeur, I usually insist on two interrelated points when it comes to interpreting and evaluating a film. First, viewers are not to be passive in front of the film text and its meaning, but rather are to participate actively in the construction of that meaning, bringing to the film their own experiences, ideas and feelings. Second, viewers are not to accept uncritically or to focus exclusively on the declarations of directors regarding their own films, as if these were the only basis for valid understanding.

Further regarding film directors, and in particular when their films ostensibly have significance for the Christian faith—films about Jesus, the saints, church history—I avoid referring to the faith or non-faith of the director as a criterion for determining the orthodoxy of the content and themes of the film. The declarations of orthodox Catholic belief of Scorsese and Gibson do not guarantee the orthodoxy of their film portraits of Jesus, while the declarations of non-faith of Pasolini do not prevent his Jesus from being the most faithful film representation of the Jesus of the Gospel. Experience teaches that often, films praised by the Church for their orthodox Christian vision are made by directors who openly declare their agnosticism or atheism, e.g.: Romero, Thérèse, The Seventh Room. In short, the focus should be on the film text and on what it, and not the director, says.

However, when considering a film made by an auteur, a director with a extensive filmography—Arcand, Scorsese, Gibson—I find it fruitful to measure the film in question, its themes, its anthropology, its style, over against other films by the same director. Often one film, used as a foil, will reinforce another by the same director, either positively or negatively, and make its themes more clear.

As a corollary to this idea, I also find it useful when considering one film, to interpret and evaluate it in a comparison-contrast dynamic with films by other directors which examine the same subjects and themes, but inevitably in different styles and with different moral, spiritual and theological perspectives, e.g. the Jesus films of Pasolini, Jewison, Zeffirelli. I have found the “dialogue” between or among contrasting films and their often contrasting points of view, to be proficuous for clarifying the merits or demerits of the film under examination.

Awareness of the audience, respect for the film qua film, sensitivity to its implicit theological themes, familiarity with other films by the same director and with the same subject, and an active approach to the construction of the meaning of the text: all are important considerations in the way I write about film.

 
BIOGRAPHY

Lloyd Baugh, a Canadian Jesuit priest, is Professor of theology and film studies at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. His doctoral thesis in Fundamental Theology at the Gregorian was a study of the Christian anthropology of Ermanno Olmi (The Tree of the Wooden Clogs, The Legend of the Holy Drinker ) in his first eight films. He has taught also in Canada, the USA, England, Spain, the Philippines and Madagascar. Author of Imaging the Divine: Jesus and Christ- Figures in Cinema, his other areas of research and publication include the cinema of sub-Saharan Africa, the Decalogue films of Kieslowski, spiritual and moral themes in film and the use of film texts for prayer, retreat experiences and interreligious dialogue. He is also active in the campus ministry program at the Gregorian. At the present time, he is engaged in a major research project on the theme of “the African face of Jesus in film.”

FREDERICK M. CHAMBERLIN

THE KILLING FIELDS
US, 1984, Director Roland Joffe.

SHORT REVIEW

The horror, the carnage, the terrorism, the political intrigue, the inhumanity of the war in Cambodia in the 70s is the background to the story of friendship and loyalty between a New York Times correspondent, Sydney Schanberg, and his Cambodian assistant and interpreter, Dith Pran, in a powerful, moving and thoughtful film based on Schanberg’s New York Times Pulitzer prize-winning reports.

LONG REVIEW

The Killing Fields is based on a US foreign correspondent Sydney Schanberg’s experiences in Cambodia in the early and mid-70s, of his friendship with his Cambodian assistant and interpreter, Dith Pran, and how the form of Phnom Penh to the Khmer Rouge forces on April 17, 1975, was to change their lives.

With his local knowledge and contacts, Dith Pran (played by Haing S. Ngor) was able to supply Schanberg (Sam Waterston) with opportunities for front-page stories in the New York Times which made Schanberg’s reputation.

Produced by David Putnam (Chariots of Fire, Local Hero), The Killing Fields quickly moves from scenes of devastation following a misdirected US bombing attack on a village which kills hundreds of civilians, including children, and shortly afterwards we witness the turmoil consequent upon the advance of Khmer Rouge forces against the truth of the Lon Nol government.

With Schanberg’s help, Dith Pran manages to his one his wife and family, but chooses to remain behind himself, for which Schanberg blames himself later.

When Schanberg and two other western journalists are arrested by the Khmer Rouge, they are clearly earmarked for execution. It is only Dith Pran’s lengthy and persuasive pleading that effects their release.

With the Khmer Rouge in control, all Cambodians are ordered out of the cities into the countryside, and foreign correspondents are expelled.

Dith Pran disappears, seemingly without trace, and Schanberg returns to the USA to adulation and awards, including the Pulitzer Prize.

For four and a half years Schanberg is haunted by thoughts of the fate of his friend back in Cambodia where an estimated 3 million Cambodians (of a population of 7 million) die under torture, labour camps or by summary execution.

The second half of the film shows the conditions under which Dith Pran suffers and his extraordinary will to survive. For survive he does. In 1979 he escaped to Thailand where Schanberg is reunited with him. The film clearly indicts the policy of the Nixon Administration vis-a-vis Cambodia in the final days of the Vietnam war. And we are spared nothing of the horrors of the Khmer Rouge regime and the wholesale killings which followed its coming to power.

The film is a stark portrayal of the torment of war and of the particular enormity of civil war, in which brother is killed by brother and it only requires the frown of an indoctrinated child to provoke a bullet in the brain.

The Killing Fields is the most moving and thoughtful film of my recent experience. It is deeply moving both on the level of the suffering of the Cambodian people and of the personal friendship with Schanberg and Pran.

The performances of Sam Waterston and Haing S. Ngor (the latter winning and Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor) are beautifully sustained. As a non-professional Ngor scores a personal triumph in the mini-faceted role of Pran.

Director Roland Joffe has succeeded admirably in his evocation of the turmoil, the devastation, the chaos of war and of the holocaust which follows in this case.

The Killing Fields is a powerful film which demands to be seen and its various messages pondered.

The scenes of carnage, torture and sudden death are graphic, but are integral to the story.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Film reviewing is not done according to a set of hard and fast rules. Inevitably each review will bring to his assessment of the film something of himself – his background, his education, his interest in and knowledge of film, his reading, his politics, his preferences, his prejudices, his values – in short, all the bits and pieces which made him the person he is, with the intellectual equipment he possesses.

It will help if he has a love of cinema. He must have at least an interest in what he is doing.

And his style of review will be dictated to a greater or lesser degree by the readership for which he is writing. It is not a question of “writing down” to one’s readers; rather it is a matter of meeting their needs and expectations. Obviously a review heavy on film theory would be of little interest to a general readership, while it might very well be welcomed by students of film or readers of an academic film journal.

I have been reviewing films, on and off, for 50 years, mainly for church publications. This has meant I have a special interest in the moral and social implications of what appears on screen.

It is often said that films simply reflect society and its interests, attitudes and values. But in reflecting them, films also tend to reinforce them. And there is no question the cinema – joined these days by television, popular music, radio and advertising – plays a major role in creating needs and forming the attitudes of viewers and listeners.

As a counterbalance to this, I have always tried to direct the attention of readers to elements in a film of which we should take account if we are to make a Christian response to what is presented on screen. This has been contained in the note accompanying the classification (or rating) of films, which latter I have always intended should be taken in conjunction with the review.

I find it interesting to note that for the past few years the Film Censorship Board has ruled that in advertising material its PG, M and R classifications be accompanied by statements like “adult scenes”, “high-level violence”, “medium level coarse language”. I have been doing this since 1959, being more specific and detailed in the reasons I had for my classifications.

Film-making is a cooperative process. It requires the sum total of the creative skills and the technical know-how of a large number of people. Stay and study the list of credits at the end of any film; regularly hundreds of individuals are acknowledged.

For the greater enjoyment her screen entertainment, it helps to know something of the contribution made by different individuals – director, cinematographer, scriptwriter, musical director, et cetera, et cetera. The same is true of any of the arts – music, drama, ballet, painting. And it is true of our enjoyment of many things in life are in the arts – sport, for example.

Film reviews present an opportunity to draw attention to the major contributors to the film-making process. My view has always been the most basic element in any successful film is a good script. A good script doesn’t necessarily guarantee the success of the final product; it has to pass through so many hands before we see it on screen. But no director can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

BIOGRAPHY

Interest in cinema goes back more than 50 years. Edited booklets on media appreciation for high school students in early 50s. Have reviewed over the years for church and other publications.

Since 1951 I have been associated with a L’Organization?Catholique Internationale du Cinema. Established the Australian Catholic Film Office in the 1970s. Director until 1994.
Have been a member of the OCIC juries in Venice, Berlin, Cannes and Manila festivals. Member of OCIC Directors Committee, 1980-90.

Fred Chamberlin died at the age of 74 in 1996.

CYNTHIA CHAMBERS US

IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH

US, 2007,

Directed by Paul Haggis.

SIGNIS Prize, Venice, 2007.

SHORT REVIEW

A murder mystery skillfully led by Hank Deerfield, Tommy Lee Jones, former Vietnam veteran and MP, who embarks on a journey to find his son Mike, recently returned from Iraq tour of duty and now AWOL.

With Emily Sanders, Charlize Theron, a local police detective, Hank overcomes righteous patriotism to discover the PTSD truth of his son’s charred remains. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, what happens to a soldier’s mind after experiencing the trauma of war, proves as disturbing as the war. This monstrous Goliath defines America’s Valley of Elah, a hell to face in the aftermath of Iraq.

LONG REVIEW

Inspired by actual events, this murder mystery skillfully unfolds through Tommy Lee Jones, cast as Hank Deerfield, former Vietnam veteran and MP, a father in search of his son Mike, recently returned from Iraq tour of duty and now AWOL.

Tommy Lee Jones’ hardened facial expressions disguise his character’s past pain of having lost one son, and grief of another son’s death to be shared with his wife Joan, portrayed by Susan Sarandon. Hank, a righteous man, unshaken in faith and patriotic values, doesn’t oppose the war but wants to find the truth to his charred son’s remains.

Accompanied by local police detective Emily Sanders, played by Charlize Theron, Hank embarks on a search that unveils horrors of the Iraq war zone. His son’s camera video provides a clue. Through glimpses of this video director Paul Haggis artfully personalizes the larger picture of Iraq hell – roadside bombs, orders to treat all civilians and children as threats. This prompts the audience to reflect on how the war in Iraq has molded soldiers fighting it. An interview with Mike’s murderers, fellow soldiers, demonstrates the shocking disconnect from killing and loss of human element. This disconnect, PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, happens to a soldier after experiencing the trauma of a war zone.

Based on the biblical story of David slaying Goliath in the Valley of Elah, this story symbolically reminds the audience of a separation with thousands of soldiers shipped abroad to endure abominable conditions for extended time while defending comfortable lives at home. It’s an atmosphere at home where no one notices the horrific reality as there is no evidence such as cargoes of body bags shipped back like Vietnam. Americans support their troops abroad, but how does America face the monstrous Goliath of PTSD when their soldiers return home?

An opening scene defines that a nation signals “international distress” by flying their flag upside down. Hank Deerfield begins his journey by uprighting the hanging of an inverted American flag and ends his journey with purposely inverting the hanging of an American flag. The upside down “Stars and Stripes” flaps in a gusty breeze and the screen somberly fades to black.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

In 2009, President Obama announced his plans for American troops to leave Iraq in 2010. It was a short interlude before the President announced his plans for America to occupy Afghanistan. It’s a great shame to realize that in my lifetime America may always be at war. In 2007 I had the opportunity to serve as a SIGNIS Juror at the Venice International Film Festival where In The Valley of Elah competed. The Press Conference, following this film’s opening and featuring Paul Haggis and Cast, left a lasting impression. As an American it was daunting to witness the heat of Foreign Press questioning our nation’s motives for occupation in Iraq. What is America thinking? Does America realize what’s happening? What is America planning to do? Overseas, America is truly a country signaling “international distress.” Privately, this prompts me to reflect on my disengagement with the war and seriously question what our presence in Iraq is doing to us.

When reviewing a film, and particularly as I proceeded with In The Valley of Elah, I make every attempt to connect with the human element both emotionally and spiritually through memorable scenes, script, or characters that spark a similar personal experience. An opportunity to attend a Press Conference where the director and cast are purposely interviewed definitely personalizes a film’s effort, as likewise the opening film caption, “Inspired By Actual Events.”

On a deeper level I look to my own life. Having no family member nor relative who has served or suffered casualty in the Iraq war, I consider the film script.

One scene from In The Valley of Elah remains outstanding in my mind.

“If this is the way he left the earth, I don’t see I have any choice.”

Hank Deerfield insists on viewing the horrific, charred remains of his son. As a teenager I suffered the loss of my older brother to a car accident in which his body was badly mutilated. Just as Hank Deerfield, my father was advised it was not necessary to view his son’s body. Like Hank Deerfield, my father insisted upon seeing his son’s body regardless of the gory details. I’ve often thought of this as the final act of courage, mercy, and respect my father gave to his son. Although we never spoke of it, I’ve often wondered of the haunting imprint this painted in my father’s memory. I experienced the depth of pain in my father’s eyes that Tommy Lee Jones portrayed through the eyes of Hank Deerfield.

Exploring the spiritual element further, I must ask myself what strength or moral lesson do I garner as the audience? The obvious symbolic message In The Valley of Elah is to face our fears with the confidence of God’s grace as David slew Goliath. Delving more deeply, one might strongly consider the aftermath of Iraq, significantly God’s grace and PTSD. How does our Father in Heaven look upon us in the mutilation and disembodiment of our human element? Perhaps this will be God’s final act of mercy and respect for his creation.

BIOGRAPHY

B.S... West Virginia University (Magna Cum Laude), M.S.. Health Science/San Francisco State University, A.A.. Broadcast Communications/College of Marin

Professional Program in Drama... American Conservatory Theater, Professional Program in Screenwriting... UCLA, Advanced Professional Program in Screenwriting… UCLA, Summer Workshop in Film Production... UCLA, Internship Daybreak Productions/ Universal Studios

Screenplays/Teleplays::
“Quadrant VI”... Action Dramedy Feature
“Liquid Assets”... Romantic Comedy Feature
“The First First Man”... Political Romantic Dramedy Feature
“Sassy Santa”... Christmas Fantasy Comedy Feature
“King Coal”... 1940 Periodic Drama Feature
“The Practice”... Teleplay
“West Wing”... Teleplay
“Boston Public”...Teleplay
“Grey’s Anatomy”...Teleplay

NICK CRUZ

MAYNILA, SA MGA KUKO NG LIWANAG/ MANILA, CLAWED BY THE LIGHT

Catholic Mass Media Best Picture Award
Directed by Lino Brocka

REVIEW AND CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Maynila, sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag is the story of Julio, a poor village fisherman in his search for his missing childhood sweetheart, Ligaya, lured to seek greener pastures in the city of Manila. We have heard or read this story hundred times before, but it is the way Lino Brocka related it that makes this film a work of art, worth seeing. Julio’s search for Ligaya became a perilous odyssey that brought him to the lurid, unkind and dehumanizing city of Manila only to find out that Ligaya ended up as a kept mistress of a Chinese businessman, Chua Tek. When he finally found her, they agreed to run away. But she never showed up at their trysting place. Because Chua Tek killed her when he found out her plan to escape. To avenge her death, Julio confronted Chua Tek and killed him.

Maynila…is definitely a milestone in Philippine cinema. It will do down as either the film that stopped the slide into mediocrity and mindlessness or it may turn out to be the lone, gloriously defiant stand against apathy and indifference. In one brilliant stroke of genius, Lino Brocka dramatically conveys this message in that incidental shot of the popular movie star Nora Aunor’s songbook magazine literally and figuratively being buried under the debris of discarded wood and garbage. It’s as if Brocka wished to tell Filipino filmmakers that it’s high time to raise the standard of filmmaking into the level of art. And the art of the requires something more durable than mere information or entertainment. And that something is usually a personal style that a director can impose on the subject he is dealing with. The style of Maynila… is the use of visual and aural rhythm with a “dream” motif. It is a ritual, a ceremony of repetition in which there are recurring images punctuated by songs that enforce their meaning. Thus, Julio’s fellow laborer, a frustrated singer-turned worker sings “Dreamin’, I’m always dreamin’
Dreamin’. Love will be mine
Searchin”. I’m always searching
Searchin’ , Someday I’ll find.
This song introduces early in the film the dream motif that weaves the film together into an artistic patter, enabling Brocka to develop a rhythm of mounting suspense and anticipation through the repeated flashback of Ligaya, always as illusive as a dream as she is ravishingly beautiful and desirable; the repeated shots of Chua Tek’s apartment with its forbidding closed windows which imprisons Ligaya forces us to experience the moment of expectation and waiting which is so large a part of life and so often omitted from art. It forces us to experience the character’s longing deeply. Then, we hear the plaintive tune of “The Impossible Dream” being played in a street corner where Julio is standing and waiting for that window to open. And when, they finally met, they meet, the meeting itself is like a dream, fleeting and transitory. Twice it is interrupted almost before it begins, one inside a church, the other inside a movie house, driving the two to seek shelter and privacy in a drab motel to snatch fleeting moments of happiness. The climax shows the beautiful face of Ligaya superimposed on Julio’s face crying in anguish, still dreaming, searching for the impossible dream.

Herein lines the beauty of the film, ranking it among the best, if not the best in Filipino film art, Filipino style. The moviegoer who fails to recognize the visual and aural rhythm at work in a film is therefore deprived of one of the fundamental elements of film enjoyment. But if we find the film too difficult at times to watch, like the films of Ingmar Bergman or Federico Fellini, it is because these directors demand too great patience of us; it’s because we are used only to having our emotions coarsened by cheap and mindless movies, like Fast and Furious or Borate and we can’t stand the approach of directors who are capable of doing the opposite.

This is not to say that Maynila…is a perfect film. To impose his own idiosyncrasies on a film, Brocka has to take risks with his directing. He has to be a groper and inevitably he stumbles in some scenes. For instance, the gay world sequence is so protracted that its impact is lost but that se against Maynila…as a whole is a minor fault, because one is grateful for all the rest.

The richness of Brocka’s vision, however, is not confined to the purely artistic for he has created a film of social commitment, a film that confronts a social problem, that speaks for those without a voice, namely, the faceless poor for whom a minor incident becomes a personal tragedy and toward whom society is cruel and indifferent. Julio’s story is that of an ordinary young man and millions of stories that are happening everyday: the plight of the poor lost in the harsh jungle of city life.

Julio’s story is developed like a search, his search for Ligaya, lost in Manila. Because of the way the search for Ligaya is structured, the film is a virtual compendium of social comment, revealing the exploitation of the working class, the toughness of living at the bottom of the social structure, the sullen pettiness of the police towards the poor, the fate of the provincial young boys and girls lured to find jobs in big cities, the dehumanization of urban society, illustrated by the call boys, prostitutes, heartless Chinese merchants and pimps and illegal recruiters.

What seems to be a simple, linear story is really a story of suspense, of relationships , an expose of the ills of city life, all these interwoven with such skill that audience involvement is total. But Maynila…is no all “claws” (kuko), for these are people like Atong and his sister Perla, who help Julio find some solace and peace in the midst of all the chaotic and polluted air of Manila. There is Pol, Julio’s best friend, a co-worker, whose humanity shines through brilliantly amid their poverty. The are the blessed of the Gospel. They carry their cross with resignation, sometimes even with joy. There are also examples of atrocious human behavior like Mr. Baladia, the merciless construction boss and Mrs. Cruz, the high priestess of the slave market who sold Ligaya to Chua Tek. But they are not the real villains; for they too are as much victims as Julio and Ligaya of a dehumanized and dehumanizing society, whose only god is money, whose only goal is power. They area all prisoners of an economic situation and outside forces that crush the freedon of the individual and destroy the joy of living. Maynila…is a film with social concern. But its concern is with people. Brocka seems to be saying that we muc be concerned with Julio and his story because we are human and so is he. And if it is critical of the social order, its criticism is implicit and not imposed. Everyone who is sane, without exception, is against poverty, crime and all forms of slavery. It is not very difficult to be right about the basic issues of comity. What is difficult is to reflect one’s attitude or one’s rage in terms that can move an audience.

Nothing is more tiresome than the film which tells us what we already know on terms of what we have experienced or seen before a hundred times. Originality of expression is very important in this kind of film. And this is what Maynila…has beautifully achieved. For it captures a dilemma, crystallizes it in human terms and renders it with compassion. Audiences know a good film when they see one, because audiences have an uncanny ability to recognize the truth. Now matter how powerfully a position is expressed, its concern must be truthful or it will be merely a technical triumph.

In Maynila, Brocka has created richly delineated characters who do not represent points of view or philosophies of life but who simply exist as mysterious and unfathomable human beings. And their world is drawn with Lino Brocka’s faultless care for detail especially in its immediate physical aspects, thanks to Mike de Leon’s stunning cinematography, which has transformed Manila into a nightmare of images, ideas and forms all harnessed to a strangely disturbing vision of impending doom, an excellent example of the creative us of lighting, a skillful blending of the artistic (in mood and effect) and the real (in consistency of light). Among the actors, Hilda Koronel is incredibly beautiful as Ligaya Paraiso. She has never been more radiant and rarely so moving and vulnerable. In flashback after flashback she seems to embody the pristine innocence crying out against a cruel world. Her bedroom scene with Julio will remain one of the truly moments of film acting. It is fruitless to speculate whether a suppler actor than Rafael Roco (Julio Magadia) could have revealed more of Julio, who could have portrayed his desperation with more intensity. As it is, Julio must be revealed more through his world than his own person and he is quite believable in a role which would have been a difficult task for a trained actor.

While the film belongs to Hilda Koronel and Rafael Roco, the rest of the cast is a joy to watch even though most of them have short appearances. To single out the more outstanding ones: Lou Salvador, Jr. in perhaps his last appearance in local movies, gives a very sensitive performance as Atong; Pio de Castro III is delightful as the student worker, while Tommy Abuel shows he is capable of far better things as Pol. Julio’s trusted friend. But what to me gives the film the feel of reality are the construction workers, the slum dwellers, the people in the street, in the market place, a living mosaic of humanity more sinned against than sinning.

There are marvelous scenes in this film which upon first viewing may seem too long. What is one to make of the long series of shots of Julio as he waits for the policeman to emerge from the store or the poignant meeting between Julio and Ligaya in a dingy motel room, These scenes are very much to the point in this sort of filmmaking for they form the rich tapestry, the humanistic background of the story of Julio’s encounter with a brutal and cruel city of Manila.

As we watch Julio staring at that closed window hoping to get a glimpse of Ligaya, receiving unexpected contributions from his fellow-workers for his cigarette, standing vigil by the lifeless body of Ligaya at the funeral parlor and finally trapped between him and his pursuers and a high wall after a long run, turning to us and having his anguished face suddenly frozen, our deepest concern and compassion is aroused.

A Filipino filmmaker has made a work of art out of the novel of Edgardo Reyes, has moved us with his concern for the defenseless, the vulnerable, the innocent, without for a single instant descending into sentimentality. Most objections to the film will not be about its violent ending (which is very controlled), not it repellent sequence of homosexuality (which is in no way sensationalized), nor its isolated images of nudity its, at times, vulgar language. Instead, some may find the ending with its implication that corruption is built into our social institutions and that the individual is powerless against the might, to be the underlying message of the film. For those who have seen Brocka’s prior film, Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang (You Are Weight But Wanting), it is evident that Maynila, sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag is a metaphor for the themes of social imperfectability and human corruption. The film’s ending does forces us to think of the film as a challenge to all of us to be concerned with the Julios and Ligayas in our midst. How can we watch this film and not read into it an indictment of everything in our society that is heartless, stifling, without compassion. Society has not merely deprived Julio and Ligaya of their basic right to the dignity of work. It deprived them a portion of their souls and killed them. The film challenges us to make Julio’s dream come true.

BIOGRAPHY

Nicasio Cruz S.J., Ateneo University of Manila, Associate Professor, Department of Communication.

MARIE PAUL CURLEY, United States

THE VISITOR

US. 2008.
Richard Jenkins, Hiam Abbas.
Directed by Tom Mc Carthy

INTERFAITH PRIZE, BRISBANE, 2008

SHORT REVIEW

Invite The Visitor into Your Home

The Visitor is a gem of a film that deserves wide viewing. Some may find its subtle graciousness too slow, but others will find it richly rewarding.

Richard Jenkins’ marvelously understated performance as Walter Vale gives us a glimpse into the soul of a professor whose narrow life is pried open when he discovers an illegal immigrant couple living in his apartment. When Walter realizes they have nowhere to go, he invites them back. This unexpected act opens Walter to a life-changing relationship with his visitors, played by Haaz Sleiman and Danai Gurira. Writer/director Tom Mc
Carthy weaves their compelling performances into a haunting story-tapestry.

Highly recommended.

LONG REVIEW:

Invite The Visitor into Your Home

The Visitor is a little known gem of a film that deserves both greater viewership and its numerous awards, including an Oscar nomination for Richard Jenkins’ lead performance, and SIGNIS’ Interfaith Award at the Brisbane International Film Festival, 2008.

The Visitor is a subtle film that explores several life-changing weeks in the life of Walter Vale, played by Richard Jenkins. Walter is a professor whose rigid, narrow life is pried open when he discovers an illegal immigrant couple living in his New York City apartment. When Walter realizes that he has turned them out on the streets, he invites them back to stay the night. This single act of graciousness opens Walter to an unexpected friendship with his guest, musician Tarek Khalil (Haaz Sleiman), a Syrian from Damascus, and his girl friend, Zainab (Danai Gurira) from Senegal.

Tom Mc Carthy has written and directed a well-crafted, layered gem that may feel too slow for some, but for many will be richly rewarding. Like the character of Walter himself, the film has a slow graciousness to it that allows us to enter the vulnerability of the characters, but without tiresome over-psychologizing. Mc Carthy weaves compelling, understated performances, subtle subtext, and Jan A.P. Kaczmarek’s evocative soundtrack into a haunting story-tapestry. But it is Richard Jenkins’ marvelous soul-revealing performance which crowns the film.

One of the most intriguing aspects of the film is its title. After I finished viewing it, I kept asking myself, “Who is The Visitor?” In many cultures, the visitor has a sacred importance. From the Jewish Scriptures, to Jesus’ words in the Gospel, to Tolstoy’s story Martin the Cobbler, how we encounter an unexpected visitor can be a turning point in our lives.

The most obvious “visitor” would be Tarek, who so freely shares his music with Walter, even when he is in danger of being torn away from his loved ones. But it could also be Mouna Khalil (Hiam Abbass), who relies on Walter’s hospitality so that she can be near her son. Or is it the paradoxical immigrant to the U.S., so necessary for bringing new energy to our complacent and decadent culture, but who is now so unwelcome? Perhaps it could even be Walter himself who, through his newfound friendships, becomes a visitor in the unfamiliar world of immigrating to the U.S.

Highly recommended for both its human and spiritual values, especially in its recognition of the human dignity and rights of immigrants.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

The Secret Skill of a Film Reviewer

One secret prerequisite for the job of reviewing films is the ability to wear many hats.

As a screenwriter and video producer, when I review a film I have many “hats” I can choose to wear. Some of my most important hats are:
• the writer’s “safari hat,” which focuses on the journey of the protagonist(s) through the script, themes, subject, and context
• the director’s black baseball cap, focusing on story development, production values, and the overall impression the film will make (story, theme, lighting, camera work, performance, editing/pacing, sound and visual effects, etc.)
• the media literacy Sherlock Holmes deerstalker hat which helps me to investigate the filmmakers’ choices and to challenge uncritical assumptions
• a gold-buckled leprechaun hat, representing my own personal history and aesthetic taste

But probably the most important hat I wear is the veil which is part of my religious habit as a sister. My veil encompasses the perspectives of all my other hats, but specifically chooses faith as the context for my analysis. I look at the film as a cultural art form in dialogue with spiritual, theological, and moral values.

So, which “hat” do I wear when I sit down to watch a film? This may come as a surprise, but I try to take off all my hats at the beginning of every film. This is a conscious and deliberate choice. My first “job” as a viewer is to pay attention to the film itself, and it’s a courtesy I ask of those who view my work as well. I can’t and don’t want to divorce myself from my values, taste and history, but I can choose not to “arm myself” with a protective hat, so that I am able to see the film clearly for what it means to me.

It’s hard to keep my hats off if, after twenty minutes, I don’t find myself caught up in the film. Usually my lack of engagement indicates that the film is poorly done--formulaic, clichéd, or simply not credible. If the filmmakers have been careless or thoughtless in using the rich “language” of film, then I lose interest. But film is such a rich medium that even not-so-great filmmakers often get one or two dimensions down quite well. And it’s possible to gain insight from what a film lacks as well as what it “gets right.”

After I’ve seen a film, I try on all my hats, because each is valid and enriching. If I watch the film a second time, I’ll wear several hats at once or switch between them, paying close attention to how specific aspects of the film illustrate or bring out the overarching theme.

How the film reveals, uplifts, dismisses, or degrades the dignity of the human person is probably the most important single criteria I use. But I also have a specific list of foundational criteria that I look for. Every film I recommend must:

• possess outstanding technical and artistic quality (or at least competent) that strives for integrity
• provide insight into the mystery of the human experience, promote the dignity of the human person, witness to the giftedness of life, or affirm respect for family life
• open a window to the transcendent
• reinforce a Christian worldview (through the dramatic resolution of the story, not necessarily because characters are Christian)
• illustrate one or more Gospel values, such as faith, hope, love, redemption, forgiveness, reconciliation, justice, peace, etc.

Wearing my different hats as a communicator who enjoys both creating and consuming media, I recommend those films that, in the thought of Pope John Paul II, are a creative voice which speaks to humanity’s deepest longings.

BIOGRAPHY

Sister Marie Paul Curley, fsp, is a member of the Daughters of St. Paul whose mission is to communicate Christ through the media. A former video producer, Marie Paul currently dedicates her time to writing, screenwriting, and assisting young women to discern the call of God in their lives. Marie Paul hosts a monthly “Faith and Film Night” at the Pauline Book & Media Centre in Toronto, and occasionally reviews films for a Catholic audience and on her blog. She has a B.A. in communication from Emmanuel College, and is looking forward to the release of her fourth book in November, 2009.

JAN EPSTEIN

BLACK ROBE

Australia/ Canada, 1991, director Bruce Beresford.
OCIC Australia award, 1991

SHORT REVIEW

In the raw beauty of French- Canada in the 17th century, a Jesuit priest experiences a spiritual crisis as his own rigid theology is challenged by a growing love and respect for a tribe of savage Indians. A sometimes harrowing but engrossing odyssey of the soul, which gives insight into world’s very different from our own.

LONG REVIEW

Bruce Beresford’s Black Robe turns Brian Moore’s novel of the same name into a magnificent film. Set in French- Canada in 1634, it tells of a Jesuit priest who is catapulted into a spiritual crisis when he is sent by his superiors in Québec on a journey 1500 miles up the St Lawrence River to replace a sick priest on a remote Indian mission.

Moore wrote the script for the film, and Beresford has translated it to the screen with all the clarity and intellectual muscle of the original. Director of photography Peter James’s wilderness is masterly. The total impact of the film is both painterly and spiritual, an odyssey of the soul that captures the flavour and texture of a century that stands in stark distinction to our own.

Set on location in North Québec in late summer, Black Robe is filmed as the seasons progress. Memorable scenes abound: the fragile brilliance of a rainbow against a frozen sky; canoes paddling on a wide reach of water painted with hyperreal clarity and colour, the stark, Goyaesque figures of the “black robes” in their blue-black habits in the harsh winter light.

Father Laforgue (Lothaire Bluteau) is the focus of the film, a dour, humourless Jesuit whose ambition in life is to “harvest souls for God” or die a martyr. Lothaire Bluteau (Jesus of Montréal) is perfect as Laforgue, an intense and puritanical man of rigid beliefs, whose former life as an aristocrat in Paris is revealed through flashbacks which pierce his consciousness in the form of reveries. But in the savage beauty of the New World, love form to narrow theology is challenged by his encounter with the Indians, and for the first time in his life, he responds to human suffering not with his head but with his heart.

Black Robe, epic in scope, is a poetic, exotic tale about the clash of rival cultures. Beresford’s juxtaposition of the competing spiritualities – the stern belief of the “black robes” that there is no salvation beyond baptism against that of the polygamists, pleasure-loving Indians who believe in the power of dreams – forms the spine of the film, and the opposition and parallels are wonderfully evoked.

Beresford counterpoints the inner and outer worlds of the competing cultures. At the fort in Québec, for instance, Champlain, the governor, dons the panoply of his office in preparation for a parley with the Indians, while Chomina the Algonquin chief (played superbly by August Schellenberg), dons his ceremonial robe and necklace, decorated with locks of the scalps of his enemies. The Indians beat their drums and shake their rattles, while the French blow their pipes and crank their hurdy-gurdy. Laforgue, lost in the forest, sees the tapering trees as the fluted columns of a cathedral. Mestigoit, the Indian shaman, calls Laforgue a sorcerer, while to the Jesuit, the shaman is a devil.

It is impossible not to view Black Robe through 20th-century eyes, but Beresford has opted for a non-judgemental stance. His film is an attempt to understand a part of the metaphysical landscape and spiritual earnestness of the 17th century in both the old and new worlds, and his achievement is to draw equal sympathy for the Jesuit and the Indians. Both can be shocking. We are perplexed and repelled by the unquestioning belief of an intelligent, cultivated Frenchman in the physical reality of Hell. Likewise, we recoil in horror at the Indian practice of subjecting an enemy to protracted torture, in order to possess his soul the moment that he screams in agony.

Although Beresford’s subject is the 17th century, this is a modern film, free of romanticism and childish notions of the noble savage. What we witness instead is a voyage into the “heart of darkness” which tells us much about ourselves. It transcends horror and speaks not about despair and madness, but compassion and love born out of pity.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

My approach to film reviewing is threefold. I feel a responsibility to the film, to evaluate it fairly in the light of my essential subjectivity; a responsibility to myself to plumb the reasons for my emotional and intellectual response to a film, honestly, without fear or favour; and a responsibility to those who will read or listen to my review, to make my communication as clear and precise as possible. I also write with an eye to giving pleasure by my prose.

Obviously whichever magazine, paper or radio station I am writing for or broadcasting with, is crucially important in deciding the mode of address, the length of review, and depth of analysis. Writing for the Entertainment Guide of The Age, say, demands a looser, more vernacular style than writing for The Melburnian, but this doesn’t necessarily mean sacrificing content. One simply has to be more cunning. Writing for Cinema Papers, on the other hand, which is a specialist magazine, requires greater exegesis. Research skills are necessary, arguments need to be deployed and sustained for long passages, and language invariably becomes more complex. I try to avoid jargon, however, as this is often a mask for faulty reasoning, or the fact that one has nothing original or interesting to say.

The Melburnian, in which the review of Black Robe was published, has enabled me to develop my own style over the years, which is tailored to the magazine’s readership. This is middle-class, independent in its thinking, and arts-oriented.

My primary impulse when viewing a film, apart from the simple enjoyment of watching “moving pictures”, is the desire to understand what the film is about. This desire to understand what a film means, either intentionally or unintentionally, preoccupies me even when the film I am watching lacks merit. I am driven then to discover why it fails, which in turn can be understood by seeking to understand what the film-makers were trying to achieve, and by measuring it against films which succeed. Reading film this way is not unlike trying to make meaning from life itself. Cinema is the most illusory of the arts. Its ability to mimic life and reflect back to us our image and that of the world, is exciting and uncanny. This dialectic is enjoyed in the womb of the darkened cinema where, Fellini says, we dream with our eyes open. Just as men and women have been driven from time immemorial to interpret dreams, so it seems to me that in the dreams and nightmares of film-makers, we can learn much about ourselves and what fuels our fears and fantasies.

Films fascinate because we love stories, but films are more than narratives. A film’s meaning is conveyed through visual language of cinema, and a reviewer’s task is to evaluate the success or failure of the vehicle that carries the story, by devising criteria for evaluation which in the end must be subjective. While there is consensus amongst many filmgoers, film-makers and film reviewers about what constitutes a good film or not, subjectivity is ever present. If a film reviewer keeps an open mind about films in all their manifold variety – that is, if the film reviewer truly loves film – then it becomes possible to applaud films that one does not necessarily like, and to feel sympathetic towards films that are flawed, but worthwhile. Subjectivity is natural and cannot be avoided. In some cases it can be the hallmark of a good reviewer. This subjectivity denotes the reviewer’s temperament, and provides a further factor to be included when evaluating the worth of a critic’s opinion.

There are many ways of looking at a film, especially if the film is very good, provocative and interesting, or very bad. No review or opinion is finite, either in what one can say about it, all regarding our own temporaneity. What one likes today, tomorrow can seem passé. Films, like film reviewers, will ultimately be judged through the passage of time.

BIOGRAPHY

Jan Epstein is a film critic for a range of Melbourne magazines and radio stations. She has taught communication studies at Victoria University of technology. She has served OCIC and SIGNIS juries and is an Associate of the Catholic Office for Film and Broadcasting.

E. SAMSON ERUDIAM

THE ITALIAN

Russia, 2005, director Andrei Kravchuk.
Hong Kong, Prize, 2005

SHORT REVIEW

This film celebrates the triumph of the human spirit, personified in a small, orphaned Russian boy, who battles successfully against those engaged in human trafficking and who market human beings as commodities. This is a dramatically compelling film that reveals goodness and love in unexpected places; exposes greed and hypocrisy in society’s institutions; and awakens in us hope and faith in our ability to choose our own destinies and be guided by our truest values."

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Films have always fascinated me from the time I was a little boy. The acting, the characters, art direction details and above all the story are the ingredients I look for. This seems to be true for me even to this day. For instance in India, when a filmmaker has a good story, he is sure of a box office success. So over the years and even to this day, cinema is a fascinating medium for me not only as entertainment, but also as emotional experience.

As I grew older, the message that comes across seemed to be more an issue. Naturally, over the years the cinema has evolved and the trends in cinema story telling has also changed from era to era. Having played my role in OCIC for the last 30 years I have given this medium much attention and it still continues to fascinate me.

I would like to share my experiences and the basis on which I review them and I must emphasise here that my reviews are more oral in nature when I conduct seminars. I highlight family values in cinema, relationships, Spirituality etc. The experience I wish to outline here was in Hong Kong in the year 2007 when I was invited to be part of the SIGNIS Hong Kong Jury during the International Hong Kong Film Festival. I had the pleasure and privilege to be with my dear friends in the same business, Fr. Jerry Martinson, sj, from Taiwan and Ms. Catherine Wong from Hong Kong. During this festival we had to see about a dozen films of many languages.

All the films had the above values mentioned and were of fine quality. I noticed the different ways in which some of the filmmakers were telling their stories. The arid landscapes in the Kurdish film “Half Moon” to the freezing cold islet scenes in the Russian film “The Island”, from a small family’s daily chores and anxiety in the Chinese film “Raised from Dust” to the social concern expressed in the drama style African film “Bamako”, all portrayed great depth and meaning in life’s struggles, joys and hopes.

The film that touched me deeply is the Russian film “The Italian”. The film starts with an Italian couple wanting to adopt a young boy from a Russian orphanage managed by dubious characters. By giving away a child for adoption the lady director of the orphanage makes money. The couple is shown a young lad, Vanya. They are taken up by his looks and mannerisms and immediately express their desire to adopt him. From then on he is called “The Italian”.

While waiting for the court order, Vanya learns more about the orphanage and the goings on in it. He realises that he must locate his biological mother. But he needs to get to the Children’s home where he was sent as a baby. The director of the orphanage discovers this and threatens Vanya, which strengthens his resolve to leave. He manages to steal the address of the children’s home from the office files. With the help of an older inmate he escapes and begins his journey. His adventure now begins and he has to always be a step ahead before danger comes his way.

All 3 members of the jury found the acting of the children superb and natural. The director, Andrei Kravchuk, says that getting the best from children is to “treat them as adult actors and actresses.” We were touched with the facial expressions of Vanya when he encounters difficult and happy moments during his escape. He showed so much courage in his resolve to find his mother. The people whom he encounters especially those who help him, give us a feeling that there is hope and that the human civilization is not all that indifferent to the plights of persons in need.

The courage of Vanya through these obstacles, including being beaten up by rough kids at the train yard does not deter him from the mission of his life. What is this drive that keeps him moving ahead, is a question that lingers on. The climax is different. It is not so much the finding of his mother, but what the assistant of the orphanage director does when he locates the boy in heavy rain hiding near some houses waiting to meet his actual mother. The assistant moves in to grab the boy and a scuffle ensues. The boy threatens to kill himself by repeatedly cutting his wrist with a broken bottle. The assistant curses him and moves away telling him to “go to hell”. But something in him tells him he should help the boy. Overcome with compassion he turns around and runs to the boy. Though hurt himself by an earlier scuffle, he uses the bandage from his own arm and wraps it around the boy’s wound to stop the bleeding and sits with him till the rain stops. It seems a symbolic moment when the rain stops and everything is clear in the man’s mind. He lets the boy go. This scene in my opinion is the important message of human concern for another. In short, courage on the part of the boy and compassion on the part of the man.

The message in the final analysis seems to be that which questions one’s inner soul to search for true meaning in life. During the presentation of the best film award the citation mentioned before presentation sums up the feeling of the jury. "This film celebrates the triumph of the human spirit, personified in a small, orphaned Russian boy, who battles successfully against those engaged in human trafficking and who market human beings as commodities. This is a dramatically compelling film that reveals goodness and love in unexpected places; exposes greed and hypocrisy in society’s institutions; and awakens in us hope and faith in our ability to choose our own destinies and be guided by our truest values."

BIOGRAPHY

Diploma in Pastoral Communications, Centre for Interdisciplinary Studies, Gregorian University, Rome

1969 - 1975 : Radio Broadcaster
English News Reader and Continuity Announcer,
Voice of Malaysia
Kuala Lumpur

1985 to the Present: English New Reader, Voice of Malaysia

1970 - 1990 English News Reader and Continuity Announcer
Blue Network, Radio Malaysia

1981 - 1988 Television Malaysia
English News Reader and weekly Talk Show
Compere

1967 Part-time audio-visual producer
St. Joseph’s Audiovisual Centre, Sentul

1971 Production Co-ordinator
Diocesan Audiovisual Centre
Kuala Lumpur

1976 Full time Programme Coordinator
Catholic Communications Centre
Kuala Lumpur

1984 - 1991 Director
Cahayasuara Communications Centre
Kuala Lumpur

PATRICK FAHEY UK

A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS

UK, 1966,
Directed by Fred Zinnemann

OCIC Grand Prize 1967

SHORT REVIEW

'A Man for All Seasons' tells the story of statesman Thomas More's disagreement with Henry VIII over the matter of the king's divorce. The film is an eloquent depiction of More's struggle to argue for the authority of the Catholic Church, and to protect himself using the letter of the law, once the state obliged him to forswear his beliefs.

Director Fred Zinnemann provides a sharp but understated period atmosphere, never dwelling on the wonderful sets and costumes. Paul Scofield is magnificent as the isolated man whose unwillingness to compromise the truth led him from high office to lowly martyrdom.

LONG REVIEW

Agonising yet uplifting, 'A Man for All Seasons' wrings stirring drama from Thomas More's resonant refusal to sanction Henry VIII's divorce.

Adapted by Robert Bolt from his stage success, this gripping, handsome film argues that government without conscience is "a short route to chaos", and that the corridors of power can lead all but the most innocent into spiritual peril.

Anchoring the film is Paul Scofield's beautiful performance as the intelligent, compassionate and dryly humorous More (unwittingly wrong only in his certainty that he is "not the stuff of which martyrs are made.") Robert Shaw also stands out, appearing briefly as a robust, troubled Henry, driven into something resembling bipolar disorder by guilt issues which he thinks More's approval could sponge away.

Director Fred Zinnemann slowly puts the squeeze on his solitary hero (as he did in 'High Noon') and More is manoeuvred into a position where his only chance of survival is a strategy of silence on the contentious divorce question. Bolt's script excels here, as language becomes a matter of life and death, words become weapons and silence provides shelter. The palaces, manor houses and courts of Tudor England are shot with a stately reserve which subtly heightens the impact of offhand references to the torture and execution awaiting those perceived as traitors.

There is sly (and enduring) political comment in the portrayal of a land covered in surveillance, where corrupt officials seek ruthlessly to enforce a uniformity of personal opinion. The film remains reticent, though, about the anguish that is surely inevitable on the way to the executioner's block. The interrogation scenes are written so dazzlingly that they prove positively entertaining, playing like witty logic debates, instead of feeling like alarming abuses of power. Even in his dank cell in the Tower of London, separated from his family, More never seems really sick with fear. Perhaps Bolt, for all his eloquent dialogue, is too English a writer to daub More in a sweat of blood as his Gethsemane looms.

In prizing More's sense of selfhood, the film achieves something quite different from biopic or hagiography. It succeeds in skewering life's bullies, busybodies and 'yes men' - those shrugging opportunists who will leap into the mud to keep the king smiling. Better to see the mantrap close in on you, says this affecting film, than to let the truth be concealed by the spirit of the age.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

In a sense, everybody reviews films. No cinema visit with friends is complete without the discussion after the film (often enough known as the post-mortem). Even children, the least experienced of filmgoers, can't emerge from the cinema without mulling gleefully over their highlights and announcing, "I like the bit where..."

Writing a review for publication does, of course, demand a somewhat sterner degree of discipline. When I started writing reviews, I was given just one line of guidance: 'Hit the deadline and hit the word count.' (Sound advice to focus the mind.)

Clearly there is no 'correct' way to review a film. The way that works best for me starts in the screening room as I make notes furiously throughout the film, capturing the plot outline, memorable dialogue, telling moments and passing observations that flit through my mind. With this method you end up effectively with a blueprint of the film. (You also end up with writer's cramp). Assuming that you are later able to decipher these notes, as scrawled in the dark, unseen, at knee level, you should find them very useful when, with your deadline looming, it comes to marshalling your thoughts.

Which is the hard part. Sitting at the computer late into the night, longing to produce an informed, flowing and absorbing assessment of the film in question, yet staring at an ever-growing scroll of tangled phrases and abandoned paragraphs, the lonely film reviewer can experience something akin to a foretaste of Purgatory. Well, keep at it. What seemed an irretrievable mess will, eventually, with industry, pull together into a coherent whole. And finally, be prepared for the editors to knock it into shape. Certainly it can be annoying if they come along and spoil your lovely text, but it can be much more annoying if they come along and improve it.

So why put yourself through it? Why not leave reviewing to others and spend your time instead watching more films? Or indeed helping out at the soup kitchen?

The key to it may have something to do with what a certain priest once called 'the ministry of the pen'. The world isn't about to stop reading. Writers are still going to write, and they'll be coming from every conceivable angle. Why not have your say? (Perhaps that is one way we can be 'salt to the world'.)

Film is a global language; a hall of mirrors in which mankind is invited to see himself in any number of lights, by turns flattering, harsh, amusing and so on. The debate about films will go on with or without your contribution. Why wouldn't you take your turn with the megaphone?

Reviews should not simply convey opinion. Good reviews share knowledge and communicate an understanding of what makes a film tick. David Lean always delighted in what he called "the elegant pleasures of cinematic sleight of hand". The reviewer should be able to point out the ways a film exploits (or fails to exploit) that compressed interplay of story, acting, photography, editing, design, sound and music that makes for a good film.

Like any expression of ideas (alongside conversations, interviews, books, broadcasts and the rest), film is one more place where the cosmic battle between good and evil can take place. For films have power. They are a window on the world. They express the aspirations and the anxieties of their society. They affirm norms. They give voice to causes and magnify what has gone largely unremarked. They can move, manipulate or entertain, and nudge people, however slightly, towards hope or despair. Films' incognito spying on characters' private actions, desires and sufferings automatically engages the moral sensibility of the audience. No less than psalms or parables might, films stir up in us outrage or affection, disdain or compassion.

The urge to write about films is the same urge that, as C.S. Lewis points out, makes us want to share a beautiful view of a landscape with someone else, or to let others know about it later. Our enjoyment of something good is completed by our praising of it. Wanting to articulate our reactions to any form of art is natural, and film, with its immediacy and its glorious storytelling scope, is liable to draw strong reactions.

Finally, reviewing should be fun. You get to contribute to the great, ongoing, international conversation about the stories which the world tells itself. And in celebrating the wonderful gift of cinema, you come down from the still of the gallery and, waving your arms and stomping your feet, accept your invitation to the dance.

DOUGLAS FAHLESON US

BABEL

US/MEXICO, 2006

Directed by Alejandro Gonzalez Innaritu

Ecumenical Jury Prize, Cannes 2006

SHORT REVIEW

A sad and harrowing tale which expertly weaves three seemingly disparate family stories together into a global tapestry and as a result sheds some light on the interconnectedness of the human condition.

The three stories consist of an American couple traveling in Morocco, a nanny returning to her native Mexico for her son’s wedding, and a deaf Japanese teenager desperately searching for a human connection of her own in Tokyo.

Babel, like the story from the Old Testament, is ultimately a portrayal of just how difficult it is to honestly communicate with one another in an increasingly shrinking world.

LONG REVIEW

A sad and harrowing tale which expertly weaves three seemingly disparate family stories together into a global tapestry and as a result sheds some light on the interconnectedness of the human condition.

The three stories consist of an American couple traveling in Morocco, a nanny returning to her native Mexico for her son’s wedding, and a deaf Japanese teenager desperately searching for a human connection of her own in Tokyo.

Each of these stories focuses in some manner on a relationship between a parent and a child. The relevance and apparent lesson is that we first learn to communicate through our connection to our parents. Babel is ultimately a portrayal of just how difficult it is to honestly communicate with one another in an increasingly shrinking world.

A goat-herding Moroccan father acquires a high-powered rifle for his sons in order to keep predators at bay. His two young sons begin the film by setting off a chain of events that will resonate for the viewer for the remainder of the film. A bullet from this gun pierces the metal shell of a tourist bus, hitting an innocent victim.

The Tokyo story is particularly heartbreaking and could even exist on its own if extended to a full-length feature film. The deaf teenage girl yearns for a connection with anyone as her internal anger resonates from serial rejection manifesting itself in several instances of social misbehavior. This slice of the story is psychologically accurate and quite compelling.

If anything negative can be said for this film it is that there is no beginning and no end, rather it is more a snapshot in time, and then life goes on. Instead of witnessing one hero on his journey, the emotional power of the story is diminished by having us peer into the lives of several people we don’t get to know all that well. But this results in another of the film’s central themes — not only does every action have a consequence, but every inaction does as well.

Both writer Guillermo Arriago and director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu (also collaborators on Amores Perros and 21 Grams) are at the top of their game here. This production is of the highest standard, with excellent music, cinematography, and performances, making this an all-around, compelling work of art.

It is a film that will stay with you long after the credits finish rolling.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

A good film must above all else move me. This is just a plain and simple truth, which in reality, is a very difficult thing to do.

What I mean is that I respond first and foremost to a film from an emotional point of view. Many people go to films as an escape, some go to have a laugh, others are looking to explore. Me? I go to be moved. And the first question I ask myself after experiencing a film is, “Did this film, in some manner, in some way, pierce my heart?”

What does it really mean to move someone? It’s more than simply inducing a deep emotional reaction. It’s more akin to connecting emotionally with what Jung calls the “collective unconscious” — that aspect of humanity that we all share that responds in a more or less similar way to the basics of love, empathy, pity, anger, joy, remorse, gratitude, frustration, jealousy, regret, desire, etc. Think of it as viewing the film through a catholic lens — that’s catholic with a small “c” — denoting universality and man’s shared humanity.

A good film is more than just a series of moving images. It’s comprised of so many complicated and complex elements, like parts of a car, that if any of them are not working properly, or are missing, or are incorrectly placed, then the entire film suffers.

Think of the various parts of a car that are necessary for it to run properly. These parts must be expertly assembled and well integrated for it to be an automobile that is received well by the buying public. It is the sum of these parts.

The same can be said for a film.

The most important part of the car — the frame — serves as its foundation, that part of the car on which all of the other important parts must attach themselves to. It is the core, its central strength. And in a film this frame is the script. A well-made film must first begin with a strong script.

The engine of a car provides the horsepower that propels the frame. A car can have an engine too small for its size and suffer in performance or the engine can be too large and cause stress on the frame. A film’s engine is its ensemble of actors. Actors rely on emotion to fuel their performance. We’ve all seen acting performances which have elevated otherwise sub-par material and vice versa with an otherwise great film that is lacking because of a lead performance gone astray. An excellent film contains acting performances that are truthful, compelling, and deeply emotional.

The transmission and steering wheel are integral components of a car. The transmission converts the engine’s propulsion and allows the wheels to turn. The steering wheel controls the car’s direction. In a film these two components are represented by the director. He or she closely monitors and helps shape the actors’ performances as well as determines the direction of the story.

The headlights and windshield on a car provide illumination and visibility, especially with respect to the external influences of Mother Nature. If either is dirty or marred then the driving experience will be hampered. In a film this area of responsibility is in the hands of the cinematographer, who works with the elements of light to best capture the visuals of a film.

The tires, wheels, and suspension system of a car keep the foundation firmly attached to the road and the ground beneath. The road may be full of potholes or wet and slippery but the tires must continue to hold their traction and the suspension should keep the ride smooth at all times. A film’s editor helps smooth out any mishaps that might occur when shooting the film and ultimately protects the frame of the film, the script.

A finely tuned exhaust system doesn’t bring attention to itself. It doesn’t make erroneous backfires. Its purr should match the throttle of the engine. In a film the musical score best represents this as it runs through the whole of the film, subtly highlighting key emotional moments and never bringing attention to itself in doing so.

All of these parts must work seamlessly together to produce a rewarding product.

You may like minivans or sports cars and I may like sedans but as moviegoers we’re all just test drivers. We get into a film and let it take us for a ride. Our riding experience depends much on our preferences and what aspects of a film we appreciate and respond to the most.

The first several minutes of our film experience set the tone and we may ask ourselves — am I in good hands? If I can trust the vehicle that’s taking me on this journey then I will tend to sit back and suspend any lingering disbelief. If I cannot then I will continue to be on the lookout for glaring cracks in the narrative, picking apart specific shot selections, and shaking my head at a moment when an actor’s emotion is truly not believable.

A good film must have no false notes. And by this I mean that it should be honest according to the human condition. One false story note could begin to eat at the whole of the film like rust to the undercarriage of a car. A false acting performance is akin to one of the pistons misfiring.

Cars (and films) are being made in more countries now than ever before. Many of the traditional manufacturers have lost their ability to innovate. They’ve lost their creativity and have suffered as a result. The more interesting cars (films) are now being made by the non-traditional manufacturers who are able to create them with a unique and rewarding freshness.

Whenever I first take my seat in the theater I will continue to hope that I’ll be rewarded by a film that is well made, interesting, and provides an emotional experience that pierces the heart…

ALAN FOALE UK

THE FULL MONTY

UK, 1997.
Directed by Peter Cattaneo.

SHORT REVIEW

The Full Monty is a touching blend of social realism, fairy-tale and humour set in contemporary Sheffield.
Times are hard. Gaz (Robert Carlyle) needs money and comes up with the unlikely idea of a strip-tease, Chippendales-style. He and his mate Dave recruit their team, all recognisable individuals with personal, marital or sexual problems.

The money matters to all of them, but more important are the themes of self-respect and mutual support in the face of adversity. Despite everything, they learn to work as a group, overcome embarrassment and move their lives forward a little. It’s a 90% happy ending.

It is not a solution to mass employment, but it is a witty and sympathetic account of ordinary people’s lives.

LONG REVIEW

In contemporary Sheffield six hard-up men decide to perform a strip-tease to make some money. This could be a piece of reportage about the post-industrial world and the victims of Thatcherism in the social realist tradition of British cinema, or perhaps a successor to the lumbering sex comedies of the 1970s.

In practice The Full Monty is neither erotic nor pornographic and its social realism is tempered with humour and gentle fantasy to produce an engaging, almost prudish account of ordinary blokes (and to a lesser extent their wives) grappling with a range of difficulties.

The characterisation is sharp, each character individual and convincing: Gaz (Robert Carlyle) the former steel-worker, still behaving like a thoughtless teenager. Dave, the self-styled ’fat bastard’. Lomper, the suicidal security man who lives with his ageing mother. Gerald, status-conscious and unable to tell his wife that he has lost his job. Horse, with his ironic nickname. Guy, dim but well-endowed. All have some personal, marital or sexual difficulty at odds with their traditional notions of masculinity and gender roles.

The wives and other family members generally make a better job of paying the bills and maintaining ‘normal’ family life. In a neat role-reversal Gaz’s son Nathan is mature beyond his years and ultimately helps dad grow up a bit.
The observation of the various milieux and social niceties is economic and effective: the facades of different houses, glimpses of gardens, casual street scenes, the waste land of the city are all familiar. The pithy dialogue, up-beat music and combination of situation comedy and farce all contribute effectively.

The money matters but is overtaken by the more important themes of self-respect and mutual support in the face of adversity. Despite the men’s obvious shortcomings (too fat, too thin, balding, bad hip, can’t dance and more) they learn to work as a group, overcome embarrassment and move their lives forward just a little. It could be a modern fairy-tale with its 90% happy ending.

Originally released in the UK in August 1997, The Full Monty benefited from the euphoria following the landslide election victory of the Labour Party in May. Hopes were high for social regeneration, greater social justice and an agenda of respect. Watching the film again in 2009 is sobering, the present economic crisis fuelling another wave of anger and sense of powerlessness. The Full Monty does not claim to offer a solution to mass employment but Gaz’s short-termism and the precariousness of the men’s situation are more poignant. It remains a witty and sympathetic account of ordinary people’s lives but still a fantasy.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Explain… Explore… Entice… but not necessarily in that order.

These aims seem to me to summarise the ideal of the film reviewer.

Film reviews are traditionally written on the assumption that readers have not yet seen the film concerned, so the writer must provide a certain amount of factual or quasi-factual information. Hence the plot summary, however brief, which gives a basic explanation.

Reviews also need to explore characters, narratives, themes and techniques so as to suggest why a film might be significant and how it aims to hold the audience’s attention.

Finally, reviews offer an overall opinion about the film to help readers judge whether or not it is for them. Enticing the potential spectator should not be an uncritical public relations exercise for the distributor but should encourage the reader to approach a film in an appropriate, thoughtful and sympathetic manner.

A review of 100 words leaves little room to do more than provide a brief plot summary, indicate genre and stars (or lack of them) and offer a summary evaluation of the film. A review of 400 words allows the writer to start to examine themes in more detail, relate the film to wider social, cultural and aesthetic concerns and offer a more nuanced evaluation with clear supporting evidence. But even with 400 words there is little room for more than headlines.

As always, reality is more complicated. The boundaries of the film review are ill-defined: film reviewing, film analysis and film criticism are partially overlapping activities which may all be more or less sophisticated in their approach, depending on their scale, site of publication and intended readership. At one end of the spectrum we have film treated as simple entertainment: the colloquial writing of the tabloid press, magazines such as Empire and Total Film and many web-sites aims for immediate impact. It is readily accessible to a very wide readership and often assumes wide prior knowledge of mainstream (American) movies. On the other hand, it is not remotely concerned with foreign-language films or experimental and avant-garde works. At the other end of the spectrum we have film treated as intellectual stimulation and a serious form of cultural expression: the formal writing of Sight & Sound aims for precision and depth and systematically avoids emotive responses. It assumes that readers are willing to consider complex and unexpected issues and borders on the academic in its range of reference.

In my own writing I probably lean more towards the latter than the former – a reflection on my professional life no doubt – although I think that this is not particularly obvious in the two pieces about The Full Monty. I have a special interest in the relationship between subjects and themes and their treatment by film-makers, but this has proved hard to explore even in 400 words. (If only I had 1,000 words to play with !) I try to place film in its wider social and cultural context but assume no academic knowledge of film on the reader’s part.

In reality also many reviews are read after the event, not only before viewing, so I hope that my writing gives those readers cause to reflect further on the film and perhaps find some extra dimension in it, maybe even to return for a second or third viewing. Some of my most enjoyable viewing experiences have involved rediscovering films and re-evaluating them as I bring wider knowledge and experience to bear on them.

BIOGRAPHY

Higher Education & Professional Training:

BA Honours, Modern Languages, University of Oxford, 1972.
MA, Film Studies, Sheffield Hallam University, 1993.
Certificate of Education (FE), Huddersfield Polytechnic, 1990.

Employment:

My professional career from 1975 until retirement in 2008 was spent at Leeds Trinity & All Saints (University of Leeds, UK).

In this period I worked as a member of academic staff teaching French, then Media and Film. In the period 2004-2008 I was Director of Film Studies, designing and then running a series of new undergraduate degree courses in Film and Television. My special interests lie in European cinema and the amorphous and evolving field of ‘world cinema(s)’.

Wider responsibilities at different times involved the co-ordination of Access activities for mature and other non-traditional students, liaison with partner universities in France, Germany and Japan, and working on institutional exchange projects under the aegis of the European Commission’s ERASMUS and Leonardo da Vinci Programmes. In 1996-1999 I co-managed a project on professional applications of Film Studies which included a day conference for those in the ministry and caring professions ‘Seeking Understanding – Reel Feelings’.

Community-based Activities:

Since my student days I have been closely involved with the Film Societies movement in the UK and have served as a member of the National Executive Committee of the British Federation of Film Societies (1982-1987) and of the BFFS Yorkshire Regional Group in various capacities since 1979.

I also served as a member of the Film & Video Advisory Panels of Yorkshire Arts Association and Yorkshire & Humberside Arts Board in the period 1989-1996.

Film-related Publications:

Occasional reviews and articles on film topics in Film magazine and Arts Yorkshire.
From 1992 onwards, programme writer for annual study weekends of British Federation of Film Societies at Scarborough.
MA thesis on British Film Comedy published in web journal Close Up - the electronic journal of British Cinema, Issue 1, Winter 1996/97.

FRANK FROST

DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES

US, 1963, d. Blake Edwards.
San Sebastian, 1963, Prize.

SHORT REVIEW

Joe Clay (Jack Lemmon) is a 1960s PR Man who’s basically an ethical man, but who relishes the part of his job that calls for drinking. He falls in love with Kirsten Arneson (Lee Remick), a non-drinking executive secretary whom he seduces into drinking through her addictive taste for chocolate. Drinking is so much a part of their relationship that when one tries to be sober the other resents it, and they mutually follow their alcoholic addiction down a slow spiral to oblivion. While Joe regains sobriety with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous, Kirsten refuses to admit her alcoholism, even at the price of not seeing her child that she loves.

LONG REVIEW

Joe Clay (Jack Lemmon) is a 1960’s PR Man, who feels an ethical twinge when his job is to find party girls for his client but who, on the other hand, relishes the part of his job that calls for heavy drinking. He falls in love with Kirsten Arneson (Lee Remick), a non-drinking executive secretary addicted to chocolate, a foretaste of her eventual addiction to alcohol. Their romance and marriage is filled with love and bonded with booze. Their slow spiral downwards into total alcoholic dysfunction is an amazingly honest look at the toll this affliction takes on individuals and families. The film won the SIGNIS Award in San Sebastian in 1963, where it also garnered best director (Blake Edwards), Best Actor and Best Actress honors.

Their alcoholic descent is gradual. When they marry and have a child, Kirsten stops drinking for the sake of the baby. Until, that is, Joe bitterly complains that her sobriety keeps them apart and she assents to drinking with him to be close to him. (His pattern of explosive bursts of temper, followed by regret and apologies, is one of the many suggestions of addictive behavior.)

Their partying leads Joe to failures at work, while Kirsten’s drinking habits soon take over her days at home. As Joe loses five jobs in four years, they blame everyone but themselves. Jobless and sober, Joe happens to see a bum mirrored in the window of a bar, and realizes it is himself. He persuades Kirsten to stop drinking with him, and he goes to work for her father (Charles Bickford) at his nursery. After two months they feel they can let up a little on being good, and soon Joe is at rock bottom in hospital detox. This leads to his introduction to Alcoholics Anonymous, and to finding his way back to sobriety (an Achilles heel of the film is the preachy explanation of AA, which was still relatively unrecognized in 1962.) But even as Joe gains sobriety, Kirsten’s dependence on alcohol makes her feel distanced from him, and she disappears. When he finally finds her in a seedy motel, he agrees to have a drink with her so that they can feel close again. Once again he ends up in hospital detox. This time he understands that love may mean having to sacrifice being with Kirsten, if he is to remain sober for his own sake that that of their child.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

As I reflect on the way I view a movie, and begin to make a judgment about it, this is what I discover.

The first thing I try to do is to simply enjoy the film on its own terms. A movie is first of all an experience and not a tool for making a moral point. A good movie will invite me into a world that I can enjoyably inhabit for a couple of hours. This is true no matter what genre it may be, whether it be comedy, drama, fantasy, or action picture. First I need to experience it. Later I’ll think about it.

When the lights come up, one of the first questions I ask myself, usually subconsciously is, “Is the film well made? Does it elevate entertainment to the level of art?” If I get to the end of a film and I find I’ve been immersed in the story, I’m ready to ask myself why it hit home with me. Was it the humor, the story that struck a nerve, the art with which is was made, or a combination of these things? If, on the other hand, I find myself during the course of the movie thinking about things that have nothing to do with the story – like how the special effects were done, maybe, or how I don’t believe the actors, or something extrinsic to the film that I’m reminded of – then chances are pretty good that I didn’t have a terribly compelling film experience. And I won’t spend a lot of time reflecting on why that was the case.

I always try to be an active viewer. As a matter of habit I make special note of the first images in the film. Sometimes they are a tease, sometimes they provide a bed for the credits, but they are almost always clues to what the director wants me to understand about the story. The movie Places in the Heart, for example, opens outside a Christian church, its unseen congregation singing a hymn that provides background music for the introduction of a diverse population that includes farmers and townspeople, middle class whites, poor blacks, homeless people and vagrants. At transitional moments throughout the story we are brought back to imagery of the courthouse we first saw at the center of town. These images knit together a plot that comes together in the final scene with a church communion service. Whatever else that movie is about in terms of story, it is about the importance of community in peoples’ lives.

Before I start reflecting on my own interpretations of a movie’s theme I want to understand as accurately as I can what the filmmakers (writers/director) were trying to communicate in the story they told. I feel there’s a kind of unwritten contract between the filmmakers and the audience that the makers will put all the necessary clues into the movie to make its meaning discernible, and the viewers will make the effort to pay attention to those details to read the meaning intended. Both understand that there is more to the story than just a series of plot events. There is an underlying attitude towards those events, creating a world view in which the story resides. Film is a very self-conscious art form in its creation. With the effort that goes into setting a scene, nothing is an accident. And so I pay attention, actively seeking to figure out what the director intends to say to me, perhaps more visually than in words.

I enjoy movies on many levels, but they start to ascend to SIGNIS Award quality for me when I sense that I’ve just been invited to glimpse in a special way, through that film, what life is all about, what it means to be human. In Days of Wine and Roses, I can feel the dreams and aspirations, uncertainties and pain of Joe Clay and Kirsten Arnesen, as they struggle with decisions that alternately become destructive and life-giving. I can feel the ache of Kirsten’s father, as he fails to find consolation in having lived a good life as he discovers that there seems to be nothing he can do to help his daughter. Because of the excellent writing and acting I believe in these characters and experience their turmoil. And I am led later to think my own thoughts about the weakness of the flesh and the limitations of imperfect love. So the movie holds up a mirror to life and I say yes, that’s what it means to be human.

Somehow over the years I’ve become convinced that a movie that rises to the level of great art must also be moral, because in some way it reflects the core of our humanity. And the inverse is also true. If I leave a movie saying, yes, that’s a profound insight into the meaning of life, then I pretty well conclude that it’s a movie that ranks as art.

I usually formulate the value of a film on a humanistic scale, particularly when I want to establish common ground with people whose cultural and religious experiences differ from mine. When I presented the SIGNIS Award for Departures to the Japanese Ambassador to the U.S. on behalf of the film’s director, the ambassador asked me what qualities of the film qualified it for an award. I mentioned the great reverence for life and the human dignity that the main character displayed in his ritual. The ambassador went on from there. “Yes,” he said, “this film expresses our core human values — values that transcend national cultures and particular religions.” This is what diplomacy is all about, and what makes SIGNIS film awards such a wonderful diplomat for the Church. I’m reminded of the opening words of the Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes: “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. Indeed, nothing genuinely human fails to raise an echo in their hearts.”

At its best, a film that truly speaks to our humanity illuminates an inner search for meaning that ultimately points to something that is more than just human, that is transcendent. In that sense it is spiritual. I usually respond most strongly to films that appeal to our best selves. But some films are more prophetic in their approach, revealing our humanity through depicting our failures to be human. A very dark movie can nevertheless be enlightening, through negative space, as it were. Whether a film is dark or luminous, it can reveal significant insights into what it means to be truly human.

BIOGRAPHY

PETER HASENBERG DEUTSCHLAND

AUF DER ANDEREN SEITE

Deutschland/Türkei 2007,
Regie: Fatih Akin

Preis der Ökumenischen Jury Cannes 2007

SHORT REVIEW

„Auf der anderen Seite“ ist der zweite Teil einer Trilogie „Liebe, Tod und Teufel“ von Fatih Akin, ein international bekannter Hamburger Regisseur türkischer Abstammung, der sich in seinen bisherigen Filmen mit interkulturellen Problemen beschäftigt hat. Der Film verbindet in kunstvoller Weise die Geschichten von sechs Personen und kreist um die Themen Verlust und Tod, Trauer und Versöhnung. Der Film ist als spirituelle Parabel angelegt, die eine meditative Kraft entfaltet und durch das Trilogie-Konzept?und speziell die Bezugnahme auf den Zufall bzw. eine höhere Macht, die die Schicksale lenkt, Erinnerungen an zentrale Themen im Werk des polnischen Regisseurs Krzysztof Kieslowski weckt.

LONG REVIEW

„Auf der anderen Seite“ sei ein spiritueller Film, hat der Regisseur Fatih Akin in einem Interview gesagt. Ungewöhnlich für das Werk Akins ist der meditative Charakter und die komplexe Verschachtelung von Lebenslinien, was den Eindruck nahelegt, dass die Geschicke der Menschen von einer höheren Macht – Zufall oder göttliches Wirken? – gesteuert werden.

Nejat ist der Sohn eines türkischen Immigranten, der in Deutschland eine Karriere als Germanistikprofessor gemacht hat. Sein Vater, Ali, der als Witwer unter Einsamkeit leidet, sucht Trost bei der Prostituierten Yeter, mit der er ein dauerhaftes Verhältnis eingeht. Yeter, die von Ali bezahlt wird, denkt nur an ihre Tochter Ayten, der sie eine ähnlich erfolgreiche Karriere wünscht wie Nejat. Als Ali Yeter bei einem Streit unabsichtlich tötet, wird er zu einer Gefängnisstrafe verurteilt. Nejat bricht mit seinem Vater. Er reist in die Türkei, um Yeters Tochter Ayten zu suchen. Diese ist als politische Aktivistin mit dem Staat in Konflikt gekommen und nach Deutschland geflohen. Dort trifft sie die Studentin Lotte, die ihr selbstlos hilft. Die jungen Frauen verlieben sich ineinander, was Lottes Mutter Susanne missfällt. Als Ayten als illegale Immigrantin entdeckt und in die Türkei abgeschoben wird, folgt Lotte ihr nach. Sie findet Ayten im Gefängnis und sagt ihr Hilfe zu. Durch eine unglückliche Verkettung von Umständen wird sie in Istanbul von jugendlichen Dieben erschossen. Ihre Mutter Susanne fährt in die Türkei und trifft auf Nejat, der in Istanbul eine deutsche Buchhandlung betreibt und Lotte als Untermieterin aufgenommen hatte. Susanne will das fortzusetzen, was ihre Tochter begonnen hat, und setzt sich für Aytens Freilassung aus dem Gefängnis ein. Sie gibt Nejat auch den Anstoß, dass er wieder Kontakt mit seinem Vater aufnehmen will.

Konflikte wie Lösungen ergeben sich daraus, dass ein Mensch einen anderen ersetzt. Yeter ersetzt für Ali die Frau. Nejat übernimmt Yeters Rolle und will Ayten das Geld bringen. Susanne nimmt den Platz ihrer Tochter ein und gewinnt Ayten am Ende als eine neue Tochter. Der Film ist in drei Kapitel eingeteilt: „Yeters Tod“, „Lottes Tod“ und „Auf der anderen Seite“. Die Todesfälle lösen starke Emotionen aus: Zorn, Verzweiflung, Trauer, Verlustgefühle, aber sie führen auch zu Bewegungen, die am Ende wieder positive Zeichen setzen, dass „auf der anderen Seite“ Trennung überwunden, Trost gefunden und Versöhnung möglich werden kann. Der Film zeigt Menschen, die Konflikte und Schicksalsschläge erleben, aber auch die Kraft haben, in der Zuwendung zu einem anderen Menschen einen neuen Sinn des Lebens und neue Hoffnung zu finden. Der Regisseur verlässt sich auf starke Bilder, die die menschliche Anteilnahme und die emotionalen Bindungen auch ohne Worte erkennbar werden lassen. Die Konstruktion der Geschichte, die als spirituelle Parabel angelegt ist, erscheint so nicht als willkürlicher Kunstgriff, sondern als Ausdruck des Einflusses einer höheren Macht auf die Geschicke der Menschen.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING/ Wie ich Kritiken schreibe

Der erste Aspekt der Beurteilung ist für mich, inwieweit der Film die spezifisch filmischen Mittel nutzt. Film bedeutet Erzählen in Bildern und ich schätze Filme besonders, die sich auf die Bilder verlassen. Ein zweiter Aspekt ist die Konstruktion der Handlung: Ist die Entwicklung der Handlung schlüssig? Sind die Motivationen der Figuren nachvollziehbar? Gibt es eine überzeugende Verbindung von Form und Inhalt? Die inhaltliche Tiefe ist ein weiterer Punkt, der für mich von Bedeutung ist. Entfaltet der Film seine Themen so, dass sie neue Einsichten oder Perspektiven eröffnen, dass der Film Denkanstöße gibt, die anregend sind und den Zuschauer auch über die Dauer des Films hinaus beschäftigen?

Die Frage nach den Themen und Werten, die der Film vermittelt, eröffnet den Blick auf die Relevanz, die man dem Film aus christlicher Sicht zumessen kann. Das bedeutet für mich, dass der Film nicht Dogmen oder Katechismusweisheiten bebildern soll, sondern dass es ihm gelingt, menschliche Erfahrung authentisch darzustellen und nachvollziehbar zu machen, sowohl die Brüche und Tiefpunkte im Leben von Menschen, die die Sehnsucht nach Erlösung und Heilung spürbar machen, wie auch die Zeichen der Hoffnung, die andeuten, wie Leben gelingen kann. Wenn der Film sichtbar macht, wie Menschen füreinander da sein können, Fürsorge, Zuneigung und Liebe entwickeln können, kann spürbar werden, wie die Botschaft Christ von der Liebe Gottes und das Gebot der Nächstenliebe konkret Gestalt gewinnen kann. Dies ist für mich in Fatih Akins Film „Auf der anderen Seite“ beispielhaft gelungen.

BIOGRAPHY

HASENBERG, PETER, Dr. phil., geboren 1953. Studium der Germanistik und Anglistik. Studienbegleitende journalistische Ausbildung. 1978 Erstes Staatsexamen für das Lehramt an Gymnasien. 1981 Promotion zum Doktor der Philosophie. 1978 bis 1987 Hochschulassistent am Englischen Seminar der Ruhr- Universität Bochum. Seit dem 1. Dezember 1988 Filmreferent im Sekretariat der Deutschen Bischofskonferenz, seit 2001 auch zuständig für Grundsatzfragen. Seit 1989 Vorsitzender der Katholischen Filmkommission für Deutschland, die Mitherausgeber der Zeitschrift „film-dienst“ (erscheint seit 1947) ist. Mitglied im OCIC Board von 1994 bis 2001. Zahlreiche Filmkritiken und Aufsätze zum Themenbereich Film und Religion.

Anschrift: Sekretariat der Deutschen Bischofskonferenz, Bereich Kirche und Gesellschaft, Kaiserstraße 161, 53113 Bonn. E-Mail:This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

IVAN HUTCHINSON

CRY FREEDOM

US/UK, 1987, Director Richard Attenborough.

SHORT REVIEW

Cry Freedom never seemed to capture the interest of cinema audiences to any great extent. Perhaps the politics of South Africa and its seemingly insoluble problems are just too serious or even too familiar from novels and television documentaries to expect a cinema-going public, looking for escapism, to flock to it.

Yet under Richard Attenborough’s direction and in spite of structural flaws, this is powerful cinema, compassionate, moving and politically trenchant which deserves to be better known that it is.

LONG REVIEW

Richard Attenborough’s Cry Freedom begins with a raid on an illegal squatter settlement in Cape Town and ends with the massacre at Soweto. In between these powerfully staged re-enactments of actual events, the movie deals with the growing friendship and understanding between Donald Woods, a white South African newspaper editor and Steve Biko, a black activist whose death in police custody brings Woods eventually into direct and dangerous confrontation with the authorities.

Based on two books written by Woods, one a biography of Biko, the other an autobiography which details the escape of Woods and his family from South Africa, Cry Freedom is a compelling narrative, emotionally involving, gripping, and particularly exciting when dealing with the escape itself.

It attempts, within the framework of an entertainment movie (and an expensive one) rather than a documentary, to impart to general audiences sufficient background information about characters and events without becoming either too simplistic or didactic, a difficult endeavour which to a surprising degree succeeds.

Woods is presented at first as a man whose sympathies for the struggles of the black majority do not extend to the acceptance of the Black Consciousness ideals as promulgated by Steve Biko, already banned and harassed by the Government and police for his forthright and, in their eyes, dangerous statements. It is after meeting Biko personally that Woods’ attitude changes and he starts down the road which brings him inevitably into conflict with the same forces which eventually are responsible for Biko’s death and his own decision to leave his country.

John Briley’s screenplay doesn’t seem to have quite solvent the problem of how best to shape a mass of material into a well-constructed script. The sequences in which Woods gets to know Biko and comes to admire him lack real conviction, mainly because Biko is altogether too one-dimensional a figure as presented.

It isn’t exactly hagiography, but it comes perilously close and it is hard to understand from the film why Woods, a liberal compassionate man to begin with, was so wary of this Biko. The dialogue between the two often sounds less like a natural conversation than a potted history lesson, about events and attitudes of which Woods would surely have been aware.

Flashbacks to Biko in the middle of the escape sequences tend to undercut the suspense of the escape itself, and make one all the more aware that the emotional heart of the film – Biko’s treatment at the hands of his captors – has been dissipated far too early.

There is something unsatisfactory to about the re-enactment of the tragedy at Soweto. Its placement at the end of the film, where it is almost like a powerful afterthought a unintegrated into the whole, drags the focus undeniably back to the main intent of the film, but does it a a awkwardly.

In spite of such carpings, Cry Freedom is a film which should be seen for any number of reasons unconnected with its political views. It is exceptionally well acted throughout, convincing in its detail, exciting as melodrama, and basically humane and intelligent, elements found all too rarely in movies these days. Kevin Kline and Denzel Washington as Woods and Biko are a pleasure to watch, intelligent and controlled, and there are outstanding cameos from Timothy West and John Thaw as well is a scene-stealing performance from John Hargreaves.

Ronnie Taylor’s photography and the music score (by George Fenton and Jonas Gwangwa) are two other effective elements in a film which may not quite reach greatness, but at least has the courage and concern to take an important subject and bring it into a cinema too frequently concerned with the totally trivial.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Much as I love cinema, I would, if a choice had to be made, give up a dozen Gold Passes rather than my library card. In other words, the power of the written word, rather than the strength of the screen image has always been paramount in my cinema going.

It follows, therefore, that a key element in film-making to me is the script which, though it doesn’t have to be “literary” in whatever sense one defines that word, gives a film at least a basic situation, a structure and some characterisation. Without that basis – and even with it, of course, on multitudinous occasions – a film is in danger of becoming a series of images into which either too much or too little can be read.

Since an emotional response – other than, of course, exasperation – is an indispensable part of the film-going experience for me, it is as well to know just what it is one is responding to, and films which have a clear idea of what they want to say or show and how to go about saying and showing it, are the ones more likely to extract that emotional response from an audience.

The emotional response is not necessarily generated by the written word in films. There are those who would argue that the fewer words the better – and that is true, in spite of all the emphasis I put on the script. Just as Jeffrey Jones Emperor in Amadeus criticises Mozart for “too many notes”, too many movies, especially those directed by the writers of the screenplay, might as well be stage plays for the use that is made of the film medium. A picture can be worth 1000 words – but without the right caption, it’s sometimes possible to get the wrong message!

I look for a sense of humanity, a sense of compassion, a sense of personal involvement in films by the makers. I love the work of directors such as Hitchcock, Huston, Forsyth, Scorsese, Ford, Fellini (early), Bergman, Renoir, Altman, Kurosawa among many others. Even as I write this I realise I should be naming the editors, the cameramen, the musicians, even the occasional producers – to say nothing the actors – who combined to produce the product which, whether one calls it art or entertainment, or anything else, is unique in being such a cooperative venture, something designed by many for multitudes.

BIOGRAPHY

Educated at primary school by the Good Samaritan nuns who were much harder to put anything over than the Christian Brothers who taught me at Saint Thomas’s, Clifton Hill, and the Parade College, East Melbourne.

My movie education took place mainly at the Regent Theatre, Fitzroy, and Adelphi, Carlton, both theatres long-gone from golden palaces to plain pumpkins.

Studied music at the University Conservatorium. Worked in early years as a public servant in the daytime and a dance band musician at night.

When offered a job as pianist to Channel 7 in 1960, accepted it with some misgiving but I’m still working on the network 33 years later (though in a different capacity).

First professional job as a movie reviewer was the now-defunct Catholic weekly The Advocate. Began hosting films on TV in the mid--70s, with a television program Two on the Aisle, and have been reviewing new releases for the Herald-Sun?and television releases for TV Week for over a decade.

Ivan Hutchinson Died in 1997.

LUKAS JIRSA

SNOWDROPS AND ACES/ SNEZENKY A MACHRI

Director, Karel Smyczek, 1983

SHORT REVIEW

The famous Czechoslovak comedy about teenagers at ski training is one of the films which convey serious themes and questions in a very friendly, amusing and light form. It is a story about one week of obligatory ski training for high schools. There are several themes which deserve our attention: relationships between pupils and their teachers, relationships among boys and girls, hierarchy in the class etc. The film talks responsibility, leadership, adulthood and sincerity. It begins like a pure comedy and ends like a serious drama without answering the questions which have meanwhile turned up. It is up to viewers to find the appropriate answers themselves.

LONG REVIEW

There is a number of Czech (and Czechoslovakian) films which were honoured by the Ecumenical jury and which collected other prizes too. But there is only one Czech film, as far as I know, which won the prize of the Ecumenical Jury (the OCIC jury) and nothing else. It is the comedy about one high school class at their ski training called Snowdrops and Aces that is still popular in the Czech Republic. It won the prize of the OCIC jury at the festival of films for children and teenagers at Gijón, Spain, in 1983. Czech TV shows it each year at least once in the prime time.

In the Czech Republic it is common to go for a one-week ski training to some Czech mountains when you are at the second year of your high school. The teenagers know each other, they have already spent a lot of time together, the hierarchy is already well established and every member of the class has his or her place in it. There is a specific atmosphere at such stays. Teenagers, who consider themselves to be almost adults, are falling in love with each other, and everybody is trying to have a good time; that means, among other things, to consume more or less considerable amount of alcohol. In the same time, there are the representatives of adults – their teachers and trainers.

The director Karel Smyczek and the screenwriters Radek John and Ivo Pelant portrayed very well this specific event where many problems occur. There is not only the question of authority (represented by the leader of the entire training and his colleagues), but also the question of responsibility, leadership, adulthood and sincerity. The comedy style, which is introduced in the first half of the film, is more and more overshadowed by serious questions and the end of the movie is purely dramatic without any easy answers to the raised questions.
The conflict doesn´t develop only between the group of youngsters and adults but also within the group itself – frank and decent boy Radek faces self-confident and daring Viky. The different types of teenagers as well as adult characters are well portrayed. Beside this, there is a theme of love and friendship which goes hand in hand with the plot.

Snowdrops and Aces is one of the films which convey serious themes and questions in a very friendly, amusing and light form of comedy about teenagers and their problems.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

I do not take the film and art in general as mere instrument for entertainment. The art is more than a filling of our free time. The art is one of the human universalis. There is no human society without art and there is no human society without religion. Actually, these two basic elements of human life are essentially tied together since the beginning of humanity. These two purely human domains shaped our cultures hand in hand for thousands years and it is only in the last few centuries, in the modern period, when these two elements were separated. The German philosopher Georg Scherer talks about the „disintegration of culture“ – i.e. such a state of affairs, in which the culture (society) is no longer centred about one main idea, like the Middle Ages around the Christian God. The separate domains appear: economics, politics, science, religion, art – they are closed, they mostly do not communicate, with each other and when they do, it is a rare and superfluous exchange. In the case of religion and art it is, fortunately, not completely true. There are strong interconnections and there is a real vivid relationship. (I write about the situation in the Western society, being a Roman Catholic myself.)

The art is one of the ways how to interpret our world. It can lead us beyond „the everydayness“ of our lives, „the everydayness“ in which the current western world seems to be rooted far too much. It is the way how to see the world differently (as it is the case of the religion to some extend).
The cinema is a part of the abundant world of vision in which we live for almost 100 years. There are too many films, music videos, images, pictures, photos around us and new occur each and every new day. Therefore, it is very important to know to which images we should pay attention and which images we should try to avoid (for their moral malignity or for their meaninglessness, which at the end becomes the same).

The cinema has a strong potential to refigure the world. It can concentrate on some important aspect of our reality and it can open our eyes. It can reshape our experience. The Italian film theorist Francesco Casetti talks about „ the full filmic experience“. F. Casetti writes: „…the spectator perceives again and anew, and then he or she re-elaborates a consciousness and a competence beyond that of common sense.“ The cinema has a power to make us to see the world (and human being) differently, and I take this to be the most important element of the filmic experience. From a little bit different angle we could say that the cinema is a very effective way how to enable the voices of the voiceless to be heard and the faces of the faceless to be seen. The cinema enables to see poor people all around the world, people who lack freedom, people who live in fear and oppression, people living in the spiritual emptiness and chaos, people without love, people who try to find someone to love, people who starve for human touch and understanding.

We live in the world that is radically changing, the world which will be very different from the world in the 20th century, for better or worse. Our „risk society“ is very complex and it is difficult to find any orientation points. The cinema can be an efficient vehicle to find some of these orientation points or, at least, it can draw our attention in an appropriate way. There are plenty of films which deserve our time, our heart and our intellect.

When I review a film, I try to find and describe the possible way how to look at it and how to perceive it. I try to show how the concrete film deals with our reality, how it reflects our world and what implications may come out of it. It is important to know that every work of art is the base for a vivid and open dialogue: a dialogue between the film and its spectator and also the dialogue between the spectators themselves. Only from this kind of fruitful relationship there can arise the full filmic experience and our lives can be changed, even if this change is very discreet for most of the time.

The reviewer should try to help the spectator to find his own way to interpret the film. He should be the one who facilitates the full filmic experience to become real.

DENISE KRIPPER

BUENOS AIRES VICE VERSE

Argentina, 1996, director Aleyandro Agresti
Mar del Plata, 1996, Commendation.

SHORT REVIEW

La ceguera, literal o metafórica, es fundamental en esta película donde los personajes no pueden, no quieren o se niegan a ver. Ellos reflejan un país al que le taparon los ojos durante más de siete años de dictadura y que ahora, de a poco, comienza a abrir los ojos nuevamente, pero no sin la molestia normal que se siente al ver la luz después de un largo período en la oscuridad. Buenos Aires Viceversa, de Alejandro Agresti, cuenta a través de sus personajes la historia de un país que recuperó su democracia pero que todavía no se libera de las sombras de la dictadura más sangrienta de su historia.

Blindness, literal or metaphoric, is fundamental in this film where the characters cannot, do not want to, or refuse to see. They reflect a country that was blindfolded for over seven years of dictatorship and that now, little by little, starts to open its eyes again, but not without the normal discomfort that one feels when seeing the light after a long period in the dark. Buenos Aires Viceversa, a film by Alejandro Agresti, tells through its characters the history of a country that regained democracy but that cannot quite yet get rid of the shadows of its most bloody dictatorship.

LONG REVIEW

Una pareja de ciegos que decide no 'verse' más. El recepcionista de un telo que escucha en secreto la intimidad de los clientes. Una mujer obsesionada con el presentador del noticiero. Un electricista solitario. Un joven boxeador que acaba de llegar a la gran ciudad. El guardia de seguridad de un Shopping. El hijo malcriado de un matrimonio de plata. Un chico de la calle. Una pareja de ancianos que contrata a una chica para que les traiga imágenes del mundo fuera de la casa de donde nunca salen. Y Daniela. Daniela que es la chica detrás de la cámara que caprichosamente puede representar la realidad como ella la ve o como ellos quieren verla. Todos estos personajes están unidos por el mismo deseo de sobreponerse a las circunstancias, y representan todos los distintos puntos de vista de un país que tan sólo acaba de recuperar su democracia: ceguera, morbosidad, locura, soledad, sobrecogimiento, desinterés, desesperación, negación. Y esperanza.

La dictadura ya no está, pero su fantasma permanece en aquellos que no pueden ver y en aquellos que deciden no hacerlo. La tierna relación que se desarrolla entre Daniela (interpretada por Vera Fogwill) y 'El Bocha', el chico de la calle de 9 años (interpretado por Nazareno Casero), muestra a dos generaciones que no formaron parte de aquellos años violentos que pero sufren las consecuencias que hicieron de este presente uno violento. El repentino e inesperado final une todas las piezas del rompecabezas en el que los personajes se unen por algo más importante: el deseo de encontrar la verdad. Todos los cabos sueltos se atan en el final donde los personajes pueden darle un sentido al pasado a través de sus experiencias en el presente. Finalmente, se han abierto los ojos de todos, incluidos los del espectador.

En su meticuloso trabajo, el director Alejandro Agresti presenta un mosaico de historias e imágenes que retratan realidades muy diferentes (al igual que la cámara de Daniela) pero que con éxito muestran una ciudad que es desordenada, incoherente, contradictoria, patas para arriba...y viceversa.

A blind couple that decides not too 'see' each other anymore. The receptionist of a motel who secretly listens the guest's intimacy. A woman obsessed with the news presenter. A lonely electrician. A young boxer who has just arrived in the big city. A shopping mall security guard. The spoiled son of rich parents. A homeless boy. An old couple who hires a girl to bring them images from the world outside the house they never leave. And Daniela. Daniela who is the girl behind the camera, which can whimsically depict reality like she sees it or like they would like to see it. All of these characters are joined together by the same desire to overcome circumstances, and they represent all the different viewpoints of a country that has only recently regained its democracy: blindness, morbidity, madness, solitude, awe, violence, lack of interest, despair, denial. And hope. The dictatorship is gone, but its ghost lingers in those who cannot see and those who decide not to. The tender relationship that develops between Daniela (played by Vera Fogwill) and 'El Bocha', the homeless 9 year old boy (played by Nazareno Casero), illustrates two generations that did not take part in those violent years but that suffer the consequences that made of the present a violent one. The sudden and unexpected ending seems to put all the pieces of this puzzle together, as the characters are now linked by something more important: the desire to find the truth. All the loose ends are tied at the end in which the characters are finally able to make sense of the past through their present experiences. At last, everyone's eyes have been opened, including the spectators'.

In his very meticulous work, director Alejandro Agresti presents a mosaic of stories and images that portray very different realities (like Daniela's camera) but that successfully depicts a city that is messy, incoherent, contradictory, up side down…and vice versa.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Una buena película, para mí, es aquella donde hay un correlato entre la historia y la manera en la que está contada. El argumento tiene que dejarse entrever a través del lenguaje cinematográfico. Por otro lado, muchas veces (sino la mayoría) siento que la historia es simplemente una excusa para hablar sobre un tema mayor. Es por esto que a la hora de sentarme a ver una película trato de despojarme de prejuicios y reacciones emocionales inmediatas para darle lugar a la reflexión y ver qué lugar ocupa esa película en la tradición cinematográfica. Es imprescindible separar el "me gustó" de "es una buena película", ya que puede ocurrir que una de mis películas favoritas no sea realmente una buena película y, por supuesto al revés, es decir, que una película muy buena no me haya gustado en absoluto.

Un punto de partida a la hora de comenzar mi análisis es seguir los rastros de aquellas cosas que en principio me "molestaron" de la película. Puede ser un movimiento de cámara extraño que se repite varias veces, silencios incómodos, planos reincidentes, algún color en particular que sobresalga en cada escena y demás. La idea es ver si ese rastro nos conduce a alguna pista, a algún mensaje oculto que el director ha dejado ahí para nosotros. Creo que de eso se trata el cine, de leer un nuevo lenguaje y empezar a comprender las metáforas encerradas en movimientos de cámara y planos, de ver cómo el relato se pone al servicio de la historia y de ver qué se quiso contar, de qué se quiso hablar mediante esa mágica combinación que llamamos cine.

A good film, in my opinion, is that where there is a correspondence between the story and the way in which that it is narrated. The story line needs to come through by means of the cinematographic language. Moreover, many times (if not the majority) I feel that the story is simply an excuse to actually deal with a subject much bigger. This is why when I watch a film I try to strip myself of prejudices and immediate emotional responses to leave some room for reflection and to see what role this film plays in the cinematic tradition. It is essential to differentiate between "I liked it" and "it is a good film", because it can happen that one of my favorite movies is not really a good film and, of course the other way around, that is to say, that I can totally dislike a very good film.
A starting point when it comes to analyzing a film is to follow the traces of those things that at first sight "bothered" me about the film. It could be a strange camera movement that is repeated several times, awkward silences, repeated shots, some color in particular that stands out in every scene and the like. The idea is to see if that trace leads us to a clue, to some secret message the director has left there for us. I think that is what cinema is all about, it is about reading a new language and start to comprehend the metaphors locked in camera movements and shots, it is about seeing how the technical part serves the purpose of the story line, and to discover what wanted to be told, what wanted to be said through that magical combination that we call cinema.

BIOGRAPHY

Formación Académica:

1. Academy Year in Liberal Arts
European College of Liberal Arts (ECLA)
Beca
Berlin, Deustchland (2008-2009)

Traductorado literario, técnico y científico
I.E.S en Lenguas Vivas “J.R. Fernández” (2004-2008)

Experiencia laboral:

Asistente de Producción
Mediometraje "Treibgut / A la deriva"
Hochschule fuer Film und Fernsehen (HFF) Konrad Wolf in Potsdam- Babelsberg

Asistencia lingüística
7mo. Seminario SIGNIS de Productores de TV en la U.C.A (2008)

Interpretación consecutiva
Encuentro Signis-OCLACC de Cine (2008)

Interpretación/Asistencia Personal
Jurado Signis en el 10° BAFICI, Festival Internacional de Cine Independiente de Buenos Aires (2008)

Subtitulado, doblaje y temporizado.
Productora Claxson- Turner (2007-2008)

Subtitulado y traducción
Festival Internacional de Cine sobre los Derechos Humanos DerHumLAC?(2007)

Interpretación consecutiva bilateral telefónica
Teleinterpreters (EUA) a través de ITS (2006-2007)

Interpretación, subtitulado y doblaje, traducción y “Ángel”
5to. Festival Internacional de Cine “Nueva Mirada” para la Infancia y la Juventud (2006)

RICHARD LEONARD AUSTRALIA

THE JAMMED

Australia, 2006.
Directed by Dee Mc Lachlan.

Interfaith award, Brisbane, 2007.

SHORT REVIEW

Inspired by actual events and taken from court transcripts, The Jammed traces the story of three women brought to Australia under false pretexts for sexual exploitation.

The Jammed is a singularly courageous piece of cinema. Even though many people would not want to see the extremely violent world this film portrays, this does not allow us to ignore the sex trade in women and children occurring in our nation. It reveals not only the horror of modern human trafficking and slavery but also peels back the complex moral layers involved for everyone, including governments.

This uncompromising and confronting film illuminates a dark, tragic side of Australian society.

LONG REVIEW

In 2006/2007 Dee Mc Lachlan’s The Jammed won two awards. At the Brisbane International Film Festival it won the SIGNIS Interfaith Award and the next year was named the Film of the Year by the Australian Catholic Film Office.

Inspired by actual events and taken from court transcripts, The Jammed traces the story of three women brought to Australia under false pretexts for sexual exploitation. Into this dark world enters an unlikely heroine, Ashley Hudson (Veronica Sywak). She is an insurance salesperson who hates her job. Unwillingly Ashley does a favour for a friend by collecting someone from the international airport. There she meets Sunee (Amanda Ma), a middle aged lady who has come from China to search for her daughter, Rubi (Sun Park).

Sunee has little English, and does not know where to begin to start looking for her child. Ashley resentfully is drawn into the search for Rubi, who she discovers has become a victim of a sex trafficking network organised by a Melbourne gang. Ashley discovers that Sunee is working as a prostitute, one of many, along with fellow victims Vanya (Saskia Burmesiter) and Crystal (Emma Lung).

This world overtakes both Ashley, Sunee and Rubi. They find that this evil world is playing with big money and bigger legal stakes. It trades off the women wanting to be free on one hand, but, on the other, not wanting to be apprehended by the Immigration Department and deported.

The Jammed is a singularly courageous piece of cinema. Even though many people would not want to see the extremely violent world this film portrays, this does not allow us to ignore the sex trade in women and children occurring in our nation. It reveals not only the horror of modern human trafficking and slavery but also peels back the complex moral layers involved for everyone, including governments.

This uncompromising and confronting film illuminates a dark, tragic side of Australian society (one replicated in many countries across the world), and thus makes a significant contribution to increasing people’s awareness of an under-recognised but important issue of human rights.

It exposes questions about the real value we place on human life, and challenges our sense of social justice towards the marginalised and exploited.

It would be hard to think of a social issue upon which the whole church is presently speaking with such clarity. Pope Benedict XVI’s statement on human trafficking for sex on 28th October 2005, his message to mark World Day of Migrants and Refugees, and the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Migrants and Itinerants have strenuously calls for all Catholics, Christians and people of good will to do everything they can to counter the causes and the evil results of human trafficking. In Australia, Catholic Religious Australia has been at the vanguard of lobbying, education and working with victims in regard to the international trafficking of women and children.

With a very small budget, a strong cast and powerful narrative, this is a film that viewers will think about for days afterwards. The Jammed confronts us with how our faith impels us to act justly.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

I have always adapted the OCIC’s six points for film juries as a good guide for my work as a Catholic film reviewer.
1. Is the film is of a high artistic quality?
2. Does it dramatise positive human values?
3. How can the values dramatised in the film be seen in the light of the message of the Gospel?
4. Does the film challenge its audience to respond to a faith that does justice?
5. Can it be used with groups to understand issues through story and symbols?
6. In what way does this film reflect its culture, helping its audience to respect the language and the images of that culture?
7. Will the film have a universal impact or is it confined to its national or local context?

I accept in my reviewing that for many western and secualrised Christians the cinema is now the modern market place where, often, minds, hearts and values are won and lost. The best films are simple and direct communications telling the most human of tales, often with a profound message. Whether we like it or not, the cinema is the place where an increasing number of people encounter a world of otherness, ethical systems, personal and social mythologies which transcend the everyday. Within the cinema we can contemplate our place in a larger frame of reference where physical laws count for less and a relationship with a metaphysical and, often, a meta-ethical world, is taken seriously. Either in the short or long term this leads us to a new consciousness of our surroundings, ideologies and moral imperatives.

Sadly, some Christians believe that unless a movie is about Jesus the Prophets or Saints, if it does not speaks of religious matters, or explicitly wear its spirituality on its sleeve, then it is can not be counted in the cinematic Christian canon. Some believers go as far as to say, “Only sex and violence sells at the cinema” or “There is nothing good at the movies anymore”. These uninformed and unfortunate comments do little for Christian inculturation, betraying the fact that the person making them is unable to read anything into or draw something out of a film, that might be consonant with the Christian message even though it may never mention the name of Jesus, the Bible or the Church.

Reading a film in the light of Christian faith starts with a disposition to want to do so. It is having the eyes to see, the ears to hear and the heart to receive what is good and enjoyable in the media culture of our age.

St Paul tell us that the greatest of the virtues are faith, hope and love, the Theological Virtues, the hallmarks by which the world should be able to judge a Christian. St Thomas Aquinas added to these virtues justice, fidelity, self-esteem, and prudence. These four have been termed the Cardinal Virtues. And added to this list are applications of them - mercy and hospitality, the so-called Christian values. St Thomas and many other theologians argue that wherever these virtues and values are present then named or not, Christ is present. Therefore we do not have to be against everything.

I also do not believe we have is not to be immediately frightened of the darker world the cinema often explores. Though we all like it to be otherwise, we hold to faith in a world which is broken and sinful. Helpfully the Christian tradition has summed up some of the worst excesses of destructive behaviour as the Seven Deadly Sins: pride, greed, envy, anger, lust, gluttony and sloth. For Christians the problem is not that a film explores the Seven Deadly Sins, or the countless other names we can give to our worst behaviour. The question we ask is whether they are made to look glamorous and seen to be normal. Films that tell us that dark behaviour is glamorous or normal must be challenged.

One of the more unfortunate things that has happened in recent times is that many Christians have been seduced into believing that we should no longer judge one another. I assume that when we say “don’t judge”, what we are trying to say is “don’t condemn.” But there is world of difference between these two ideas.

Good film reviewing from a Catholic point of view cultivates the gift of discernment where we can work out the wheat from the chaff, exercising compassionate judgment and critical consumption. Then I think there is less likelihood of the filmgoer being seduced by attitudes, responses and appetites that are not life-giving and life-sustaining.

BIOGRAPHY

Rev Dr Richard Leonard SJ directs the Australian Catholic Office for Film & Broadcasting. He is a visiting professor of communications at the Pontifical Gregorian University, Rome and Jesuit Theological College, Melbourne. He is the author of: The Mystical Gaze of the Cinema: the Films of Peter Weir (Melbourne University Press); Movies That Matter: Reading Film Through the Lens of Faith (Loyola Press, Chicago) and Preaching to the Converted (Paulist Press). He has also written a personal reflection on suffering and God based on his family experiences, Where the Hell is God?

PETER MALONE

RABBIT PROOF FENCE

Australia, 2001, director Phillip Noyce.
SIGNIS Australia award 2001.

SHORT REVIEW

A fine Australian film about aboriginal people in the 1930s, especially the stolen generation of children abducted by government orders to be trained as servants and farmers. Three little girls escape and walk home along the rabbit proof fence. The desert and mountains, beautifully photographed, alienate the whites but are 'country' to the girls. Phillip Noyce uses his craft expertise, from home and Hollywood, to make the tale dramatic, emotional and challenging especially in the dialogue from Kenneth Branagh's aboriginal protector, Mr Neville, a man of eugenic, anti-black policies. Cinema storytelling can contribute to public opinion – here for saying sorry to aboriginal peoples.

LONG REVIEW

Appalling.

Not the film, of course, but the stories of Australia's stolen generation and the arrogant colonial presuppositions that lay behind them. Australians would shudder at the final statements in the film from the Western Australian protector of all aborigines from 1915 to 1940, Mr A.O. Neville.

Rabbit Proof Fence is a landmark film for Australian public opinion. It is popular cinema that tells a strong message story and was released in 2002 when most Australian groups had acknowledged that the treatment of aboriginal people and, especially, those of the stolen generation deserved an apology. Churches had spoken up. Many organisations around the country had said that they were sorry. However, 'Sorry' was not a word that the Prime Minister, John Howard, and his government were willing to utter. Audiences seeing Rabbit Proof Fence and moved by the story of three little girls, aged from 8 to 14, abducted by the police, confined to a settlement where they were to be trained as servants, escaping and making their way home along the fence for hundreds of miles, would have felt and known that an apology had to be forthcoming.

This is a beautifully crafted film. Taking advantage of the open spaces of Western Australia, the desert and the mountains, expert cinematographer, Christopher Doyle, shows us the beauty of the terrain from an aboriginal perspective, where white travellers and settlers would find it alien, but the aborigines saw it as their country, and home.

Phillip Noyce made the short feature, Backroads, a story of 1970s aborigines, hardships and the protest against discrimination. After making his name in Australia in film and television (Newsfront, The Cowra Breakout, The Dismissal), Noyce spent ten years in Hollywood, relishing the opportunity to make popular films (Patriot Games, The Bone Collector), then felt the need to come home to film.

The screenplay is based on a book by the daughter of Molly Craig, the unswerving leader of the girls.

Three aboriginal girls bring the trek to life, its pain and uncertainty along with their indomitable spirit. It is very emotional to see two of them as elderly women seventy years later. Kenneth Branagh portrays Mr Neville as a fatally flawed gentleman with a righteous eugenics program to eliminate mixed blood children.

Much to marvel at, much to admire, much to reflect on, much to challenge.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

In 1975, I received an angry letter criticising me for recommending a film with foul language. I quickly glanced down the page to check the title of the offending film: The Sting. Critique is in the eye and ear, the mind and heart of the beholder.

I have had the luxury of writing reviews most films release commercially for almost 50 years. The readership of the reviews in Annals (a family magazine published by the Catholic religious order to which I belong) has been teenagers at school, teachers and parents. A video column in the Melbourne Advocate and a weekly review in The Catholic Leader reached a specifically Catholic readership. But it does not mean that I write “Catholic” reviews. Opportunities to write in the Melbourne sun and magazines like Cinema Papers have shown me that the same material can be of value to all readers.

I like the phrase, “mediating film culture”. I think this is what reviewers do. Film buffs do it by their moviegoing and enthusiasm. Critics can do it by analytical articles and discussion. But, mediating is the essence of film reviewing. It is communication between reviewer and readership.

Reviewers mediate film culture through their experience, taste, sensitivity and their communication style. This means that reviewers must understand and respect their readership, alert to the variety of experiences, tastes, sensitivities and styles. Years ago, being stuck in a cinema, unmoved by bare-knuckle-fighting Clint Eastwood and his orangutan, Clive, in Every Which Way but Loose, while all around the audience guffawed and cheered, helped me realise that I was not a member of Extroverts Anonymous, that my taste was minority in this regard and that my taste had no rights over the other. The reviewer is a mediator not a paragon of taste.

But reviewers should have a passion for cinema otherwise their work is merely a journalistic chore the aids no one. Some reviewers receive assignments to go to the movies and bring little experience or interest. They often bring the desire to make an impression and the surest way to do this is to mock. But, next week, they might be filling in on the restaurant round!

If a passionate reviewer is to mediate, then the film culture should pervade his/her personality: films from each diverse decade of the movie century, films from many nations, films in a variety of genres. Reviewers don’t have to like everything, but should experience as wide a range of film culture as possible.

In practice, what does this mean? Reviewers should be alert to the differences of taste and sensitivity in their readership and indicate what might interest or what might repel. My own preference is to look at the overall film – after all, it’s not over until the final credits – and then highlight the qualities. This gives a context for the negatives. By the way, reviewers need to beware of the temptation to write merely for other reviewers.

I rely on trying to appreciate the text and texture of the film: the techniques of the technology, the writing, the artistry – not reading into the film my own agenda.

My personal interest in is in the themes dramatised. My religious background means that I look for values and meanings. I subscribe to E. M. Forster’s advice at the beginning of Howard’s End: “Only Connect”. Often, explicitly religious films have less impact than so many films which are implicitly religious. I use the word “religious” in its broadest meaning, not in any church or denominational sense. I think we respond to the drama of basic human drives and the reviewer can alert an audience to these explorations of values.

So, reviews, I think, should be positive but not naive or bland, insightful but not imperious, interesting and entertaining but not over-didactic or confusing. I rather like the words “critically appreciative”.

BIOGRAPHY

Peter Malone is an Australian Missionary of the Sacred Heart. He has taught theology and Old Testament studies at the Yarra Theological Union and directed a Diploma of Social Communications at the Australian National Pastoral Institute. He has reviewed films since 1968 and written a number of books and articles on cinema and spirituality (Lights Camera Faith, Movie Christs and Antichrists, Onscreen Jesus). After being president of OCIC Pacific in the 1990s, he became president of OCIC world in 1998 and the first president of SIGNIS, The World Catholic Association for Communication (2001-2005). He is an Associate of the Catholic Office for Film and Broadcasting.

JIM McDONNELL

YASMIN

UK, 2005, d. Kenny Glenaan.
Locarno, 2006, Ecumenical Prize.

YASMIN: SHORT REVIEW

Winner of the Ecumenical Award in Locarno, 2004, and winner of the Templeton award for best European film, Yasmin is a picture of inter-religious and racial tensions in the north of England.

Despite the serious themes the film is also full humour ,wit, and irony.

The story is a powerful and serious exploration of what it means to be a person caught between two cultures. Set against a background of poverty, high unemployment and racial tensions, Yasmin's story deals with universal themes: the search for identity and belonging; the search for values and meaning and the battle between social conformity and personal integrity.

YASMIN: LONG REVIEW

Winner of the Ecumenical Award in Locarno, 2004, and winner of the Templeton award for best European film, Yasmin is a picture of inter-religious and racial tensions in the north of England.

Yasmin, played by Archie Panjabi, lives in two worlds. Leaving home in traditional Pakistani dress she drives into the countryside where she changes into western clothes for her daily job as a social worker. In the evening she transforms herself again into the dutiful Muslim daughter to please her widowed devout and traditional father. Yasmin finds traditional Pakistani attitudes constricting and demeaning to her as a young British woman. She is angry and often frustrated.

Even though she rebels against traditional Pakistani culture, Yasmin agrees to go through a marriage, and later divorce, with a goat herder cousin from a Pakistani village to please her father and so that he can get British residency.

But life suddenly changes for Yasmin after 9/11 when she finds herself ostracised at work and her community treated as potential terrorists. She undergoes a crisis of identity as people regard her with suspicion and hostility. Then her husband is arrested and in spite of her disdain for him and his backward ways, Yasmin’s sense of justice propels her to fight for his release from a holding centre. Her actions force her to painfully re-evaluate her faith, her culture, and her relationships.

Despite the serious themes the film is also full humour ,wit, and irony.
The story is a powerful and serious, but also often humorous, exploration of what it means to be a person caught between two cultures. Set in a Northern mill-town, and against a background of poverty, high unemployment and racial tensions, Yasmin's story deals with universal themes: the search for identity and belonging; the search for values and meaning and the battle between social conformity and personal integrity.

The film won Ecumenical awards because it explores these universal themes in terms of a personal compelling local story which is narrated through a striking visual language. Yasmin touches us at an emotional level and allows us to glimpse tensions and feelings can cannot be expressed verbally. In so doing, the film, like all good films, draws us into the world of the protagonists and allows us to feel with them and to experience something of their struggles and hopes. The director and actors make us care about the characters and in so doing offer a glimpse into a world that the terrorist events of 2005 and 2007 make it imperative that we understand better.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

The most important element in any review is the intended readership or audience. So the length, style, content and approach of a review is bound to change with the medium in which it appears, the place and time of its publication, and a sense of who the audience is, and what they might be expected to be interested in. All these considerations are there in the background, shaping the style, language and content of the review, and suggesting what elements to highlight or downplay.

A review is not a critical essay but, of course, has critical elements. However, in my mind, a review has one overriding function: to give the prospective viewer an idea of what the film is about and to highlight some features that will give a “flavour” of the film.

Of course, flavour is a matter of taste and taste can be highly subjective — but I try to put aside my own personal prejudices (more or less successfully). Any film deserves to be approached in the first instance with as much open-mindedness as I can summon. As I watch I am looking for and seeking to draw attention to what seems most memorable or revealing; paying attention to a variety of elements: acting, screenplay, plot, cinematography, the use of sound and music. Genre is important too. If a film sets out to be a thriller there is no point in approaching the review with the same expectations as if it were a romantic comedy or a satire. Depth of characterization is not a prerequisite for a good thriller, but artistic depth might raise a good thriller to a great one. The question I ask myself is does it work, more or less, as a thriller or drama or rom-com etc? The prospective viewer is going to spend money to be entertained, stimulated, frightened or intrigued and deserves to have some idea of whether or not the film can deliver on any of these expectations. What can I say that might help him or her to make a judgement as to whether to spend two hours in the dark immersed in a director’s creative world.

It might sound rather prosaic, but my first expectation of a film is that be well made – it is after all, a work of craft, of technical and artistic expertise as well as artistic imagination. This expertise is expressed in numerous ways but above all in the editing. I may not personally warm to a film but I can recognize the film that is well structured, tightly edited, trying to be creative and imaginative, with a sense of having been “directed”. A film can “fail” in it’s intention, of course, but interesting failures are more engaging than cliché ridden products that give the impression of having thrown together with little thought.

I hope always for originality, to be surprised and touched, but well-made solidity has its place too. There is a moral or ethical dimension too; sometimes not so easy to discern, especially if a film plumbs the dark places of human psyche. But a film, however trivial its content or plot, should always have a moral core, a respect for human dignity. A film that merely exploits or titillates the viewer or degrades its actors is not a film that is worth watching. And sometimes that has to be said clearly and distinctly.

As I write this, I seems to be making my task as a reviewer ever harder, though in practice it is not so difficult and usually enjoyable. Films have given me hours of pleasure, bringing me into many stimulating imaginative worlds, sometimes of great depth and subtlety. I hope that my review will be a helpful guide, even if a subjective one, to films that can open the doors of the mind and heart to stories of “innocence and experience”, as William Blake might have said. The review succeeds most when it stimulates someone to take the risk to go, see and judge for themselves.

BIOGRAPHY

Dr Jim Mc Donnell is the Director of Development for SIGNIS as well as running his own PR consultancy, Mc Donnell Communications. He has been involved in Catholic communications for nearly 40 years and has been a member of both the OCIC and SIGNIS Boards at regional and world level. He has been a member of film, radio, TV, and video juries and has written extensively about all aspects of the media.This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

ARISTIDES O’FARRILL

(Director, Humberto Padron)

VIDEO DE FAMILIA/ FAMILY’S VIDEO

Cuba, 2001, Director, Humberto Padrón.
Mención OCIC- SIGNIS en el vigésimo primer Festival del Nuevo Cine Latinoamericano de La Habana.

SHORT REVIEW

Video de Familia, constituye un documento audiovisual inestimable para conocer los vaivenes que han sacudido a la familia cubana en estos cincuenta años de Revolución. Con un presupuesto estético mínimo. Humberto Padrón su realizador nos exhibe a través de la catarsis que provoca la grabación de un video en una familia tradicional cubana, todos los desgarros que ha sufrido Cuba, culpa de la intolerancia y la cerrazón ideológica que han llevado a la familia nacional y por ende a la nación a una crispación sin precedentes. Para salir de este marasmo el filme propone la reconciliación familiar que ha de ser simiente de una mayor, la postergada entre nacionales.

LONG REVIEW

El año 2001, fue testigo de un acontecimiento audiovisual para los cubanos, un mediometraje minimalista de 45 minutos de duración captaba la atención de los cinéfilos del país, Video de familia, firmado por el entonces desconocido realizador Humberto Padrón. El filme no estaba producido por el ICAIC, organismo capitalizador de todas las producciones nacionales de importancia hasta ese momento, sino que su productora respondía al estrafalario e irónico nombre de Producciones HP (1).

El filme aborda una temática poco usual en el audiovisual nacional de los últimos años el desgarro que ha sufrido la familia cubana productos de las fricciones ideológicas, que a su vez ha provocado exilios y tensiones a veces irreversibles. Video de familia se adentra en esta espinosa temática con originalidad y no menos arrojo. Toda la trama gira alrededor de un video familiar (2) que una familia cubana decide enviar a uno de sus miembros, emigrad en EE.UU. Todos los familiares: padre, madre, hermana, hermano y abuela se aprestan para la filmación, pero la revelación de un secreto por parte de uno de ellos, justo antes de que comience la misma, hace que estallen las tensiones que está familia tenia guardada por mucho tiempo y que el patriarca (Enrique Molina), impedía que así fuera. De inmediato queda al descubierto, la homofobía, el racismo, el machismo y la intolerancia hacia el que piensa diferente. Entonces desde éste microcosmos familiar, el director inteligentemente nos muestra todas las tensiones y contradicciones que subyacen en nuestro macrocosmos nacional, y que muy tímidamente empiezan a ser debatidos; pues de eso se trata de debate algo que ha faltado tanto en nuestras familias, como en nuestra nación. Y que Padrón pone sobre el tapate.

Así el referido secreto deviene en catarsis familiar y la rica y por momentos álgida controversia que se establece entre los miembros de la familia, lejos de terminar con la destrucción del núcleo familiar como por momentos parece, desemboca en su solides, con lo que nos sugiere que la discusión, el punto de vista diferente, que tanto ha faltado en nuestra nación, lejos de desunirnos, nos enriquece. No es casual que la propiciadora de la conciliación sea una mujer ( Veronica Lynn), con lo que se alude lo mismo a la nación en sí mismo, como a la importancia de una mayor inclusión de la mujer.

Video de familia abrió una brecha positiva dentro de la historia del audiovisual cubano, después de éste filme, nunca las cosas fueron igual, comenzaron a florecer en el país nuevos realizadores gracias a la nueva tecnología digital, bisoño que al igual que Padrón se sumergieron en zonas preteridas de nuestra realidad.

Pero no es sólo éste el merito de Padrón, Video de familia abrió una puerta hacia la postergada reconciliación nacional, puerta por la que todavía muchos se resisten a pasar. La invitación sigue en pie, la nación no puede seguir esperando, pues sin discusión que lleve a la conciliación no hay nación sana posible, como nos indica Padrón.

(1). El titulo de la productora alude de manera polisemica lo mismo a las iniciales del nombre y el primer apellido del realizador que a una chapa automovilística que el imaginario popular tomó para bautizar irónicamente los a dirigentes que abusaban de su poder.
(2). Con la expansión del video cassete, muchos cubanos emigrados debido a la imposibilidad de visitar la Isla con regularidad e incluso cartearse sistemáticamente utilizaban este medio para mantener la comunicación con los familiares. De hecho Video de familia está filmado ex profesamente como si se tratara de la realización de un camarógrafo amateur.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Cuando me involucro en el análisis de un filme, lo primero que suele interesarme es que visión ofrece sobre el contexto que retrata, de qué manera lo alude o se centra en el, busco los detalles o las sutilezas que pueda tener al respecto, para luego compartirlas con el eventual lector, lo mismo si el filme se centra en una temática especifica o personaje. Lo segundo es los posibles valores o contravalores humanos y cristianos que pueda tener la obra, es decir si ilumina u oscurece la realidad retratada. Por último me centro en sus posibles aciertos o desaciertos estéticos. Si el filme pertenece a alguna corriente cinematográfica o al llamado cine de género, trato de ver que aporta o no al respecto.

BIOGRAPHY

Arístides O´Farrill?. Miembro de SIGNIS- CUBA, antigua OCIC, desde el año 1992.
Coordinador editorial de la Revista ECOS de SIGNIS- CUBA. Miembro de la Asociación Cubana de la Prensa Cinematográfica. Ha participado como jurado de SIGNIS – Cuba en los más importantes eventos cinematográficos del país, y en cuatro ocasiones en el Festival de la Habana. Colaborador ocasional de las revistas arquidiocesanas Palabra Nueva y Espacio Laical.

JOACHIM OPAHLE GERMANY

„livesafelyineurope“

Dokumentarfilm, 52 Minuten, Österreich 2007,
Regie: Emanuel Danesch

SHORT REVIEW

„livesafelyineurope“ ist ein nachdenklicher Film über ein europäisches Zukunftsthema erster Ordnung: Wie werden wir wohnen und leben angesichts zunehmender Armutsmigration in Europa und weltweit. Der Film zitiert kunstvoll und ironisch gebrochen aus den euphorischen Prospekten der Erbauer von „gated communities“, die überall in Europa mit dem Versprechen von Exklusivität und Sicherheit werben. Mauern und Überwachungskameras sind ihre Methoden, unliebsame Mitmenschen auf Distanz zu halten. Die Bewohner dieser „Inseln der Seligen“ preisen die Idylle ihrer Wohnwelten und können doch nur mühsam dahinter die Angst vor dem Fremden und den Rückzug aus gesellschaftlicher Verantwortung verbergen. Der Film desillusioniert erbarmungslos den Fehlglauben, es könne ein richtiges Leben im Falschen geben.

LONG REVIEW 

„livesafelyineurope“

Dokumentarfilm, 52 Minuten, Österreich 2007, Regie: Emanuel Danesch

Überall in Europa werben Investoren für sogenannte „gated communities“, abgeschlossene Wohnsiedlungen außerhalb der Städte, die einer zahlungskräftigen Kundschaft Exklusivität und vor allem Sicherheit versprechen. Ihr Mittel sind Mauern und Überwachungskameras. Doch das Leben darin ist ambivalent, die Idylle trügerisch. Denn für die vermeintlich Sicherheit zahlen die Bewohner einen hohen Preis: Gleichförmigkeit, Isolation, Absonderung vom „wahren Leben“ in der Stadt, in dem sich das Miteinander unterschiedlicher Gruppen und Interessen täglich neu bewähren muss.

Der Dokumentarfilm zitiert aus den Werbeprospekten der Investoren und kombiniert damit Bilder aus gated communities in Ceuta, der spanischen Exklave in Afrika, Deutschland und anderen europäischen Ländern. Ein weiteres Stilmittel sind Bilder aus der virtuellen Welt von „Second Life“, wo mit Hilfe von unsichtbaren Detektoren die Zugehörigkeit zur jeweiligen Community bestimmt wird. Dagegen montiert der Film Bilder aus Überwachungskameras an den europäischen Außengrenzen, die fast ebenso virtuell wirken, die aber höchst realistisch dokumentieren, wie die „Festung Europa“ von Armutsmigranten gestürmt wird.. Dabei wird deutlich: Die Versuchung, sich in Ghettos abzugrenzen von den Herausforderungen des wirklichen Lebens ist groß; die Illusion von einem Leben im Paradies ist ungebrochen aktuell. Rührend naiv und unbewusst komisch schwärmen die Bewohner von ihrem neuen Leben in den eintönigen und architektonisch zumeist banalen Wohnparks. Sie dokumentieren damit jedoch zugleich ihren Rückzug aus gesellschaftlicher Verantwortung und bestätigen darin das Wort des Philosophen Theodor Adorno, wonach es „kein richtiges Leben im Falschen“ geben kann.

Das wahre Leben hält andere Utopien bereit: Wie müsste das Zusammenwohnen von friedlichen und miteinander solidarischen Menschen beschaffen sein? Wie kann man der prekären Situation an den Außengrenzen Europas mit der wachsenden Zahl von Armutsflüchtlingen menschenwürdig begegnen? Was fasziniert und erschreckt zugleich an der quirligen und chaotischen städtischen Lebensform, in der Menschen aller Generationen das „Soziale“ stets aufs Neue herausfinden müssen. Mit der Beantwortung solcher Fragen hält der Film sich zurück. Aber er lässt keinen Zweifel daran, dass Abgrenzung, Isolation und die Errichtung von Mauern keine gangbaren Wege in die Zukunft sein können.

Der Film „livesafelyineurope“ wurde bei der DIAGONALE 2008 in Graz, dem Festival des österreichischen Films, uraufgeführt und mit dem kirchlichen Preis der Diözese Graz ausgezeichnet. Die Jury bildeten Natalie Resch, Joachim Schauer und Joachim Opahle, Vizepräsident von SIGNIS Europa. Der Regisseur des Films, Emanuel Danesch, wurde 1976 in Innsbruck geboren und lebt in Wien. Er studierte an der Universität für angewandte Kunst und an der Akademie der bildenden Künste in Wien. Weitere Information:www.danesch.at

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Ob ein Film mein Interesse weckt, entscheidet sich an Titel und Werbeplakat. Begriffe und Fotos sind die ersten Erzieher, wenn es darum geht, das bewegte Bild und seine Botschaft zu erschließen. Hat der Film dann begonnen, frage ich mich, ob er mit einer Botschaft aufwarten will und ob mir diese Botschaft möglicherweise vertraut ist. Welches ist das erkenntnisleitende Interesse des Autors/Regisseurs? Welche Stilmittel werden eingesetzt? Motive, Methoden, Audiodesign usw. Wie kreativ wirbt der Autor um Interesse und Symphatie für sein Thema? Wie nachhaltig und wesentlich sein Fragestellung und Umsetzung? Setzt der Film Emotionen und Imaginationen frei, wie man der Substanz des Menschlichen auf die Spur kommen und wie Leben gelingen kann?

BIOGRAPHY

Geboren 30.07.1956, verheiratet, drei Kinder, hat in Freiburg/Brg., Wien, Tübingen und Bamberg Katholische Theologie, Philosophie und Kommunikationswissenschaft studiert (Dipl.Theol.).

Arbeitete als Redakteur beim Öffentl.-Rechtl. Rundfunk und in der Öffentlichkeitsarbeit des Erzbistums Bamberg. Seit 1993 im Erzbistum Berlin tätig als Leiter der kirchlichen Hörfunk- und Fernseharbeit.

Vorsitzender der Arbeitsgemeinschaft der Kirchlichen Rundfunkbeauftragten deutscher Bistümer beim Öffentl.-Rechtl. Rundfunk. Vertreter der Deutschen Bischofskonferenz bei SIGNIS.

Adresse: Katholische Rundfunkarbeit im Erzbistum Berlin
Niederwallstr. 8-9
10117 Berlin
Tel: +49 (0)30 401 57 60
This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

LUIS GARCIA ORSO EL VIOLIN

EL VIOLÍN.
(Francisco Vargas, México, 2006)

SHORT REVIEW

El violín (Francisco Vargas, México, 2006) sigue las andanzas de un viejo campesino y músico, don Plutarco Hidalgo, junto con su hijo Genaro y su nieto adolescente Lucio, que van tratando de librar el acecho de un destacamento de soldados que avanzan por las aldeas de la sierra en busca de guerrilleros, y que han destruido y quemado sus casas. Los pobladores han tratado de organizarse para defenderse y resistir; Don Plutarco lo hará con el recurso de su violín y de su música.

La narración cinematográfica de El violín se encarna tan honestamente en la realidad de los pueblos latinoamericanos que siempre la sentimos cercana y vivamente dolorosa, por más que nunca se diga en qué lugar y en qué tiempo está situada. El violín es una película íntegra, comprometida, sin falsas complacencias. En ella, la esperanza que encarnan los desposeídos y la capacidad de trascender y perseverar que alienta la música, son el regalo de esta historia tan universal. La película ha acumulado unos treinta premios, desde que el año 2005 fue apoyada con el Premio SIGNIS para su postproducción.

LONG REVIEW

El violin sigue las andanzas de un viejo campesino y músico, don Plutarco Hidalgo, junto con su hijo Genaro y su nieto adolescente Lucio, que van tratando de librar el acecho de un destacamento de soldados que avanzan por las aldeas de la sierra en busca de guerrilleros, y que han destruido y quemado sus casas. Los pobladores han tratado de organizarse aun militarmente para defenderse y resistir, y los tres familiares intentan hacer llegar más municiones. Don Plutarco lo hará con el recurso de su violín y de su música.

El primer largometraje del joven mexicano Francisco Vargas impacta por la precisión y sobriedad de su narración, la pureza y belleza de su fotografía en blanco y negro, la sinceridad y veracidad con que todos los actores –profesionales y no- encarnan personajes del pueblo, y el compromiso entrañable con la realidad de los pobres que transparenta la historia cinematográfica. Una mención especial merece la actuación de don Ángel Tavira, músico de la sierra de Guerrero, quien siendo joven perdió la mano derecha en la explosión de un cohete y aun así se convirtió en un virtuoso y maestro del violín, y que no sólo representa al personaje protagónico en la película, sino que lo vive con total sinceridad, entrega y veracidad, como quien sabe en carne propia de qué se trata.

La narración recupera el origen de la creación, cuando la tierra fue dada a los hombres para vivir; luego sobrevino el despojo ambicioso e injusto que perpetran unos cuantos. Sobre ellos se alza la dignidad y la lucha de los “hombres verdaderos” para que la tierra vuelva a ser lo que era en el principio. La figura del octogenario Plutarco, todo él digno, entero, perseverante, y la música de su violín, serán entonces la representación de este compromiso, de esta lucha, de esta esperanza: cuando la música acompaña y alegra a las mujeres y los niños que huyen de la represión, cuando el violín seduce y casi doblega la fuerza opresora del capitán, cuando el nieto ha de seguir tocando y no rendirse, hasta que lleguen los tiempos de la vida y de la luz para el pueblo.

La narración cinematográfica de El violín se encarna tan honestamente en la realidad de nuestros pueblos latinoamericanos que siempre la sentimos tan cercana, tan viva, tan dolorosa, por más que nunca se diga en qué lugar y en qué tiempo está situada. El violín es una película íntegra, comprometida, sin falsas complacencias. En ella, la esperanza que encarnan los desposeídos y la capacidad de trascender y perseverar que alienta la música, son el regalo de esta historia tan nuestra y tan universal. La película ha acumulado unos treinta premios, desde que el año 2005 fue apoyada con el Premio SIGNIS y el de Casa de América para su postproducción, y luego escogida en 2006 para una sección del Festival de Cannes.

CÓMO VER Y COMENTAR UNA PELÍCULA/CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

Como espectadores descubrimos maravillados que en la pantalla de un cine se cuentan historias tan parecidas a las nuestras que nos hacen emocionarnos e identificarnos, reír y llorar, pensar y soñar. Muchas películas son para cada espectador espejo de la vida, diálogo interior, motivación para animarnos y luchar por algo valioso. El cine es capaz de provocar una experiencia espiritual hecha de historias vividas y compartidas, de significados de la vida, de sentimientos y cuestionamientos, de movimientos interiores, que llevan a un diálogo vivo del espectador con la película, consigo mismo y con otros espectadores.
Para hacer este diálogo podemos fijarnos en seis recursos: el inicio de la película, el final, una escena o un símbolo que a uno le impresionó, el título del filme, y un personaje.

El inicio

Las primeras imágenes de una película pueden contener toda la película: la historia, la presentación de personajes, la trama, el nudo, el conflicto, las claves de interpretación… Perderse los primeros minutos es, a veces, perderse la película; captar lo que ese inicio nos da es gustar, comprender, adentrarnos, en toda la historia que se nos cuenta. Si en sus primeros diez minutos una película no es capaz de agarrarnos, interesarnos, implicarnos, emocionarnos, muy difícilmente lo va a lograr el resto de la cinta. Para la comprensión de una película, cada uno recogerá lo que más le llama la atención de su arranque: una imagen, una frase, un sonido, un detalle, un gesto, etc. Al final, todo cobrará sentido.

Una vieja camioneta corre por una carretera vacía, en medio de una amplia y despoblada llanura del noroeste americano. Es la misma imagen en la primera y en la penúltima secuencia de la película Brokeback Mountain (Secreto en la montaña, Ang Lee, EU, 2005), sólo que con veinte años de distancia; pero la imagen tiene por igual la fuerza y la tristeza de un alma sola que avanza en medio de un paisaje desolado.

En el largo, pausado y hermoso inicio de Luz silenciosa (Stellet Licht, Carlos Reygadas, México, 2007), la oscuridad de un paisaje en los campos menonitas de Chihuahua va siendo iluminada lentamente por la luz del amanecer, hasta el punto de no dejar más negrura sino el esplendor de una mañana de sol brillante. Al final de la película, un día después, el amanecer nos evocará a Aquel que, como luz silenciosa, “hace salir el sol sobre buenos y malos, y manda la lluvia sobre justos e injustos”

El final

La evolución de la historia que se nos cuenta ha de llegar a un nudo y un desenlace. El tiempo que se lleve llegar a ese final varía, pero quizás rondará en unos quince o veinte minutos; los últimos cinco serán decisivos. Un buen director será el que sepa cómo llegar ahí sin que perdamos el interés, la emoción, la comprensión de la historia, sino todo lo contrario. Una conducción equivocada de la película hará que ésta se desinfle, se confunda, se pierda, o que el final resulte artificial, manipulado, inverosímil, irreal…Un buen final deja el sabor de la sorpresa, la admiración, la emoción; nos deja el placer de que se nos hizo llegar hasta el final de una historia en la que estábamos embarcados junto con los protagonistas y no se nos abandonó en el camino. Podremos gustar y comprender más una película recordando la última imagen, palabra, gesto, canción, melodía…

Para los que saben ver una película y se quedan hasta los créditos finales, Diarios de Motocicleta (Walter Salles, Brasil-EU, 2004) trae un regalo al final: las fotos reales de 1952 combinadas con las escenas de la gente del pueblo en la cinta, ambas en blanco y negro, como fundiendo cincuenta años de distancia; con una bellísima canción del uruguayo Jorge Drexler: “Tanta lágrima y yo sólo soy un vaso vacío…pero creo que he visto una luz al otro lado del río”, que da sentido a las escenas anteriores, y la mirada del ahora octogenario Alberto Granado al avión en que el jovencito Ernesto Guevara regresa a su Buenos Aires.

Una imagen

Cada espectador puede recoger al final de una película la imagen que más le impactó, le gustó o le disgustó, le conmovió, le implicó, le dejó pensando… Es importante que sea sólo una imagen, no toda la historia, ni muchas escenas, y que se quede con esa sola imagen. Ella contiene para él todo el secreto, todas las claves, de la historia. ¿Qué sentimiento me dejó esa imagen?, ¿qué me sucedió?, ¿qué me impresionó más?, ¿qué me hizo pensar?, ¿a dónde me llevó?, ¿con qué me relacionó?, ¿qué dice de mí esa imagen y con qué se relaciona de mi historia?

El disparo de un rifle unirá de repente, como por accidente y también necesidad, a los distintos personajes de Babel (González Iñárritu, EU, 2006); cambiará el rumbo de la historia y los afectará para siempre. Un accidente fortuito, un evento inesperado, una decisión repentina, entrecruza vidas separadas y las conecta con nuevas decisiones por tomar y nuevos caminos por andar. Y a partir del imprudente disparo, la herida provocada; no sólo la herida física, sino las heridas emocionales en cada uno de los personajes.

Un símbolo

Una imagen en alguna escena del filme, por ejemplo: un objeto, un detalle, un letrero, algo que sucede sin mayor importancia, etc., puede ser una imagen simbólica, es decir, puede estar hablando de algo no explícito, puede remitir o relacionar con algo más hondo, puede contener algún significado interior, sin que necesariamente el director mismo sepa por qué quiso dejar eso ahí, o el espectador sepa por qué le llamó la atención ese detalle. Retomarlo y desentrañarlo llevará a cada uno personalmente a significados que se le están ofreciendo detrás del símbolo.

Kieslowski puede hacer de los objetos más comunes el hilo de una historia: un teléfono en Rojo, una lámpara o una taza de café, en Azul; un telescopio y una botella de leche en No amarás (Decálogo 6), una computadora, un perro muerto y el hielo, en Decálogo 1... Historias redondas, perfectas, entrañables, porque están siempre cerca de la vida y de nuestras vidas; historias que nos revelan el secreto de las cosas y del alma detrás de unos símbolos.

Y en El camino a casa (de Zhang Yimou, China, 1999) el amor se va haciendo con la espera y la fidelidad, materializada en un plato de comida, un prendedor para el pelo, un estandarte rojo, una cubeta de agua, o un arreglo de papel de China,

El título

También podemos comentar qué nos dice el título de la película, ordinariamente el título original: ¿a qué se refiere, con qué lo relaciono de la película, qué clave de compresión me ofrece, cómo lo entiendo yo?
En Temporada de patos (Fernando Eimbcke, México, 2004), un cuadro de poco valor y escaso gusto estético - una temporada de patos junto a un lago - puede significar muchas cosas importantes si se aprende a ver junto con otros; así ayuda a evocar la fecha de un nacimiento, el motivo de una discordia, la pregunta escondida en el corazón, lo que hace falta hablar, la decisión que hay que tomar… Cada cosa que nos rodea en el pequeño espacio que habitamos puede unirnos o separarnos.

Hable con ella (Pedro Almodóvar, España, 2002) es una historia de hombres que miran, se enamoran, lloran, acompañan, ayudan, hablan, como Benigno y Marco los protagonistas. Hablan, aunque parezca que la mujer amada no escucha, porque creen que el alma de su bella durmiente puede escuchar; hombres que hablan y acompañan porque creen que es posible pasar de la muerte a la vida; hombres que se atreven a llorar porque las lágrimas son señales de cuánto se ama.

Un personaje y su espíritu

Cada uno de los personajes, o quizás mejor un solo personaje, me ha dejado una cantidad de sentimientos en el desarrollo de la historia narrada en la pantalla. Recoger esos sentimientos es reconocer que estoy implicado en la película, que ésta ha tocado mi interior, que la película ha valido para mí…Puedo preguntarme ¿con qué personaje me identifico más?, ¿en qué?, ¿qué dice de mí ese personaje?
Cuando vemos una película entramos en contacto cercano con historias humanas y, en ellas y a través de ellas, con el “espíritu” de hombres y mujeres; es decir, con aquello que anima a esas personas, las guía, les da sentido a sus vidas, las hace amar y luchar, salir adelante y lograr sus esperanzas, las ayuda a vivir y morir por algo que vale. Se nos concede el privilegio de recibir de ellos la motivación de sus vidas. Por eso puedo aprender mucho de la vida si reconozco el espíritu qué anima a algunos de los personajes de un filme.

Así, por ejemplo, puedo ver cuál es el espíritu que mueve a la generosa cocinera francesa refugiada en una aldea de pescadores daneses como sirvienta de dos hermanas solteras y muy religiosas en El festín de Babette (de Gabriel Axel, 1987), o a Manuela, la protagonista de Todo sobre mi madre (Pedro Almodóvar, 1999) que va a Barcelona tras la muerte accidental de su hijo para buscar al padre, y crea una cadena de entrañable solidaridad entre mujeres.

En conclusión:

El espíritu transmitido en una película puede ayudarnos a imaginar y elegir algo mejor para nuestra propia vida y la de nuestro mundo, algo que tenga más sabor de felicidad, de humanidad, de convivencia, de amor y de dignidad. Encontrarlo en una película y compartirlo a los demás es gozosa tarea de un amante del cine.

BIOGRAPHY

Born in Tijuana, Mexico, has been a Jesuit priest since 1973. He teaches Fundamental Theology and is the author of numerous articles and three books on cinema and spirituality (Imágenes del espíritu en el cine, Una guía para ver cine, Cómo aprovechar la espritualidad del cine). He is former president in Mexico of OCIC and SIGNIS, during 1995-2006, and member of Latinamerica Board.

He has been a SIGNIS jury member in many national and international film festivals.

GAYE ORTIZ

ROMERO

US, 1989, d. John Duigan
Rio de Janeiro, 1989, Commendation.

SHORT REVIEW

Fictionalized biography based upon the final three years of the life of Archbishop Oscar Romero, during which he became a passionate Christian prophet calling upon soldiers to cease their violence toward their fellow citizens during El Salvador’s long struggle with civil unrest. Romero’s strength is Raul Julia’s performance, and it is the horrific assassination in the sanctuary as Romero lifts the consecrated cup that is its most dramatic image. The film ends hopefully with a quote from Romero: “Let my blood be a seed of freedom and the sign that hope will soon be reality.”

LONG REVIEW

The time is winter 1977, the place El Salvador, a country where the minority ruling class uses the military to repress the citizens. El Salvador’s long struggle with civil unrest – more than 60,000 people killed between 1980 and 1989 alone - is also the story of a remarkable man, Archbishop Oscar Romero; this film presents a fictionalized biography of the final three years of his life. The first theatrical release of Paulist Productions, Romero was produced by Father Ellwood ‘Bud’ Kieser but the film does not ooze Catholic piety. A few predictably didactic scenes of peasants earnestly debating liberation theology are overshadowed by the more emotionally charged conversion of Romero that drives the plot. The rather shy and bookish cleric slowly moves from being a political establishment patsy to a passionate Christian prophet calling upon soldiers to stop the repression of their fellow citizens. In a society where the Catholic hierarchy is comfortably on the side of the ruling elite, Romero, who, as Kieser described him, was a ‘mouse of a man who became a tiger’ begins to make powerful enemies. This true story features a strong performance from Raul Julia, who claimed the film had engendered a spiritual awakening for him.

Romero’s graphic images of the victims of violence include the murder early in the film of Father Rutilio Grande, executed while three children escape the gunmen and run for their lives. In stark contrast the action cuts to Romero engaged in play with two privileged children of a government official, but a sign of how Romero changes in his accommodation of the rich and powerful comes later when asked to perform a private baptism for a government official’s widow; when he suggests that she is welcome at the communal baptism, she recoils at the thought of baptizing her baby with ‘a bunch of Indians’. This deftly played scene helps to explain the complexity and roots of the Salvadorean conflict with more finesse than a subsequent heavy-handed argument between Romero and gun-wielding priests about Marxism’s compatibility with liberation theology.

The Christ figure analogy is evoked by this story of Romero’s life and death; the archbishop risks persecution in dangerous times when flyers urge people to ‘be a patriot – kill a priest’. He prays in one scene for God’s strength – “I can’t. You must. I’m yours. Show me the way” – and then is stopped, stripped and taunted by soldiers in the street. He responds by celebrating the Mass where he stands, as the soldiers melt away into the crowd. However, it is the horrific symbolism of his assassination in the sanctuary as he lifts the consecrated cup that is of most dramatic effect, signaling the panic and despair of the country and of the universal Christian community at the news of his death. The film ends, however, on a hopeful note with a quote from Romero: “Let my blood be a seed of freedom and the sign that hope will soon be reality.”

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

An important initial consideration in writing reviews is how to employ vivid language; if the objective is to inform the viewer about the film s/he must get a sense of it through the tone and images my words evoke.

There should be for me a balance in and respect for filmic as well as theological criteria. Some elements of film are more obviously important to the reader, such as actors and performance, plot, screenplay, and cinematography; special effects and music/soundtrack are also worth mentioning if they are of note. As Melanie Wright so aptly demonstrated in her book Religion and Film, film appreciation that includes knowledge about the film industry can enhance the understanding about a particular film produced by it; this is all the more important when reading about a film outside the Hollywood mainstream. A reviewer should aim to introduce the reader to the filmic sensibility dominant in the culture in which the film was made, and this is one thing that was invaluable in my work with OCIC and SIGNIS, which have long histories of supporting indigenous film industries through film festival awards from Catholic juries around the world.

Since I write mainly within a theological academic context I am looking in addition for what the film may offer in a dialogue with theology and religion. For the film Romero, for example, the context of the Marxism/liberation theology debate is one issue that would be fruitful material for the reader. The Christ figure analogy that is mentioned in my review of Romero, although sometimes inappropriate (e.g. Schindler’s List), is always useful in films with a hero figure, who viewers can assess through its limitations as well as its strengths. But whatever the reviewer decides is important to communicate to the reader about a film, it will be a dull read if the reviewer does not communicate her own passion for film. My epitaph will be, “Too many films, not enough time”!

BIOGRAPHY

The Rev. Dr. Gaye Williams Ortiz serves as minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Augusta, GA.

Rev. Ortiz taught in higher education for twenty years, ten of those in the United Kingdom, where she taught theology and religious studies, and was the Head of Cultural Studies at the College of Ripon and York St. John in Yorkshire. She has written extensively on religion and theology, and has published three books, two of them on her specialism of theology and film. From 1998-2001 she served as President of OCIC- Europe, and from 2001-5 as Vice- President of SIGNIS.

Rev. Ortiz is Co- Chair of the Interfaith Child Advocacy Network (ICAN) and is the Vice-President?of the Progressive Religious Coalition, which sponsors Augusta's annual Martin Luther King Jr. Interfaith Celebration. She is also a member of the Interfaith Fellowship of Augusta, the Richmond County Chapter of the NAACP, the CSRA Women’s Interfaith Network, and Augusta’s Interfaith Fellowship. She serves on the Board of the Augusta Authors Club and the Board of the Equality Clinic.

ROSE PACATTE

BAGDAD CAFÉ

1988, director Percy Adlon.

Rio de Janeiro, 1988 Commendation

SHORT REVIEW

Bagdad Café (Out of Rosenheim) – German tourists Jasmin Münchgstettner (Marianne Sägebrecht) and her husband (Hans Stadlbauer) have an argument while driving through the Mojave desert. She takes her suitcase and stomps down the deserted highway to a forlorn and neglected looking truck stop with a café and motel. Over the next few weeks Jasmin works hard to organize the motel and clean up the place in return for her keep. Her kindness and joy transform the grumpy and suspicious Africa-American?owner, Brenda (CCH Pounder), who is also having husband problems, and all those who live at the motel or frequent the Bagdad Café. Bagdad Café was nominated for an Academy Award in 1989 for Best Song “Calling You”, and won an OCIC commendation in Rio de Janeiro in 1988.

LONG REVIEW

Bagdad Café (Out of Rosenheim) – Jasmin (Marianne Sägebrecht) and Münchgstettner (Hans Stadlbauer) are German tourists on holiday in the United States. Too much time in the car, however, has soured their relationship. Jasmin gets out of the car in the middle of the Mojave Desert with her suitcase and her husband drives off. Refusing abandonment, Jasmin marches toward the only thing on the old highway: a sagging motel and truck stop: the Bagdad Café. It is run by the imperious and suspicious Brenda (CCH Pounder) who reluctantly lets Jasmin stay in return for work. Jasmin is almost offended by the disorder and neglect of the place. Jasmin, who speaks no English, notices that Brenda has husband troubles of her own. Very soon, Jasmin makes friends with Brenda’s grown children and attracts the attention of a permanent guest at the motel, a kind of cowboy - artist, Rudi Cox (Jack Palance). A former Hollywood set painter, he paints Jasmin’s portrait revealing that he sees the beauty beyond her full-figured middle-aged persona. Jasmin, meanwhile, transforms the café and the people who frequent it by her magic tricks and generosity.

Bagdad Café was written by the German husband and wife filmmaking team Percy and Eleonore Adlon; Percy also directed. The film was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Song for “Calling You” in 1989 and won numerous international awards including an OCIC Commendation in Rio de Janeiro in 1988.

Since its release Bagdad Café has reached cult status. Cinephiles recognize that the film’s quirky characters and the way it faces distrust of “the other” directly and by way of the heart, renders the film timeless. Whether intentional or not, twenty-five years after Ralph Nelson’s Lilies of the Field, (that won an Oscar for Sidney Portier in the lead role) Adlon gives audiences a way to consider racism and reverse racism by engaging German and African- American sensibilities against the backdrop of an arid American landscape.

Bagdad Café is a film that makes the audience laugh because of the small surprises that march across the screen. The film is a mirror that transforms just as it directs our gaze inward and outward simultaneously, to see and understand what really matters: people, regardless of race, gender, age, or anything.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Don't tell me that was it, Arnie! I mean, you gotta be kidding! That what I had you come up here for? I don't believe it! I mean she, she shows up outta nowhere without a car, without a map. She ain't got nothing but a suitcase filled with men's clothing. How come? How come she act so funny like she was gonna stay here forever? And with no clothes?! No! I don't like it! It don't make no sense at all! No, no, no, no, no! It don't make no sense!
– Brenda to Sheriff Arnie

In 1988 Washington Post critic Desson Howe said that the Bagdad Café was an “existential tethering place for the terminally weird.” I think Howe may have meant “eccentric”. Peculiar. Quirky. A cast of infinitely loveable characters from the Gospels on a journey of the heart, stuck in a surreal outpost dump on a forgotten American highway. They learn to let themselves be loved when they can barely love themselves. A screenwriter watched the movie with me one day and expressed genuine distaste for the film because he felt there was no character arc. The lead character, Jasmin, doesn’t grow and change, he said. He may be right; Jasmin is who she is. But, like Jesus, she is a catalyst that stirs things up. She irritates people to move beyond their inertia to see “the other” and learn to give of themselves unconditionally.

The magic of Jasmin lies in her own realization that change, transformation, is possible.

On the other hand, Jasmin does change. She begins to see herself as a beautiful woman deserving of love when Rudi paints her picture. She begins to see what he sees.
Jasmin has many roles in this little film is a model for the other citizens of the Bagdad Café rest stop.

This odd fable is one of my favorite films.

When I watch films for review I am attracted by two elements: relationships and mystery. The conflicts that provide the drama and drive the action can be resolved in so many ways but I am always looking at the human struggle and the human and Gospel values that underpin the denouement.

I am always looking for grace – for the characters and for myself.

I do not like “message” films. I find these boring and patronizing because they leave no room for the moral or Catholic imagination to engage in the character’s journey. Message movies are “useful” perhaps but “useful” has no place in the universe of authentic cinema. I want to savor the ah-ha moments and let the language of film wrap itself around my soul. When this happens, the reviews write themselves.

BIOGRAPHY

Sr. Rose Pacatte, a member of the Daughters of St. Paul, is the Director of the Pauline Center for Media Studies in Los Angeles.

Sister Rose is a Daughter of St. Paul, a media literacy education specialist, and the founding director of the Pauline Center for Media Studies in Culver City, CA where she teaches courses on media literacy for catechists and adults. A world traveler, she gives presentations and courses on media literacy around the globe. She has a BA in Liberal Arts with concentrations in catechetics and communications, an MEd in Media Studies from the Institute of Education, University of London, UK, and a Certificate in Pastoral Communication from the University of Dayton. She is an award winning author and co-author of books on film and scripture and media literacy education. Her most recent book is “Martin Sheen: Pilgrim on the Way” (2015).

Rose is the film columnist for St. Anthony Messenger and the National Catholic Reporter, reviews films for catechists and youth for RCLBenziger, hosts her own interview and review online show “The Industry with Sister Rose on the IN Network” and writes “Sister Rose at the Movies” blog on Patheos. Rose has created courses and facilitates them for the University of Dayton’s online Virtual Learning Community.

MARIA LAURA PAZ

LA EXTRANJERA

Argentina, 2007, Director: Fernando Díaz

SHORT REVIEW

Un actor de telenovelas que hace 35 años no aparece en pantalla grande y una actriz que tuvo que aprender el oficio campero son los que dan vida a Juan y María en La Extranjera. En esta película, Fernando Díaz, con una fotografía que retrata paisajes cuyanos, de tierra pelada y arbustos espinosos y unos cielos azules con nubes que dibujan pensamientos, habla de costumbres populares, de lo que hace a cada uno sentirse identificado consigo mismo y con los demás. Si bien la película tiene un tinte dramático, el público plantó sonrisas en frescas escenas que fueron recibidas con positiva sorpresa por el realizador.

LONG REVIEW

Como su título, la última obra de Fernando Díaz, es también una “extranjera” para el mercado local. Todavía no se estrenó en la Argentina y sí participó de varios festivales y muestras en el exterior. Ganó en Milán el premio del público, fue apertura en un festival cerca de Los Angeles, competirá en Málaga, viajó a Montréal. Pantalla Pinamar la presentó por primera vez en 35 mm. El premio del concurso de postproducción organizado por SIGNIS y los institutos de cine de América Latina ayudó bastante a concretar la película. En San Sebastián se escuchó la justificación del jurado: “Por la sobriedad narrativa para contarnos la difícil adaptación e integración del inmigrante en una tierra que necesita reapropiarse y apuesta finalmente por el encuentro con la gente, la solidaridad y la calidez de las relaciones humanas en un lugar de soledad.”

Es una historia simple con mucho que decir: María (Cali), que es argentina, vive en Barcelona. Una carta que recibe la hace regresar a la Argentina. Cuando llega a Indio Muerto, ahí mismo comenzará a reencontrarse con sus raíces.

De pronto, empieza a vivir una nueva vida. Juan (André) es un hacendado que se alejó de la ciudad para huir de toda responsabilidad. Rápidamente su liviana actividad diaria cambiará por la entrada de María en la escena. Los dos, rodeados por los pueblerinos, un tendero algo resentido y pícaro (Roly Serrano), que comercia hasta con la pobreza, y Antonia (Norma Argentina), el ama de llaves de Juan, mirarán con desconfianza la llegada de María y sin embargo, habrá caminos que los unan en lo material y en lo espiritual, alejando el desarraigo de todo tipo.

“Uno es extranjero de su propia vida”. María y Juan sufren no encontrar su verdadero lugar en la vida pero ambos van a transformarse cuando sus caminos se crucen. María aprenderá a reconocer el entorno natural que la sorprende a cada paso y Juan volverá a poner los pies sobre la tierra por María.

El director quiso plasmar la relación entre la tierra y la mujer. Cómo se enfrentan y los desafíos a vencer. “La extranjería está más allá de toda nacionalidad” y no tiene que ver con banderas.

Brevemente, lo que se quiso mostrar se mueve entre la soledad urbana donde no hay nada qué hacer y la soledad rural, que a cada momento trae un nuevo desafío, si uno le pone ganas.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Fue por el año 2000 que me tentó la posibilidad de escribir sobre los videos que alquilaba los fines de semana. El mismo criterio con el que elegía las películas para ir a ver a la sala cinematográfica era para alquilar VHS: los actores, los directores, una saga, un personaje, si había ganado algún premio, nada más ni nada menos.

El ciclo de e-mails titulado “Los videos que alquilé” pronto se hizo una costumbre entre mis amigos que reclamaban si no escribía las recomendaciones, -no las llamo críticas porque no me siento técnicamente calificada para llamarlas de esa manera y además porque también me parece que la crítica está como un escalón más alto que los espectadores comúnes no pueden ni quieren alcanzar-.

Mi reducido público me reclamó más y pidió que pasara a la radio. Allí, me decidí a presentar un programa de una hora, todos los sábados, con estrenos y clásicos. En este caso, había un hilo conductor entre las películas y los cortes de bandas sonoras que se elegían para la cita sabatina. “Críticas Especataculares” se mantuvo al aire por tres ciclos y tenía colaboradores que me ayudaban a hacer más rica la sesión, con contrapuntos y elgiendo el tema que reuniría éxitos y fracasos de la industria cinematográfica, únicamente tenían que coincidir con la idea central.

También para la misma época surgió la posibilidad de hacer las recomendaciones de Pluma (tal mi seudónimo artístico) en el Periódico Eclesia de la Diócesis de Lomas de Zamora, Buenos Aires, Argentina. ¿Qué plus tiene este espacio que sigo conservando hasta el día de hoy? El hacer reflexionar a los amigos del cine y el entretenimiento. No hay película que se resista a las “Pistas para la Reflexión” que dejo al final de cada texto sobre una película. Dos ó tres preguntitas bastan para que el espectador vea y se quede con algo valioso, que no pierda el tiempo en “diversiones” (huir de la realidad) y se entretenga descubriendo contenidos, temas de debate, disparadores que de otra manera hubieran quedado escondidos. La satisfacción más grande, saber que estas humildes preguntas pueden llegar a servir dentro de un encuentro catequístico con jóvenes o adultos y las películas ser fuente de debate en un grupo de novios en las charlas prenupciales.

Esto es en cuanto a las películas comerciales. Los festivales me aportaron una mirada más amplia y más profunda sobre todo al tener que juzgar el material visionado en los jurados. Me abrieron la puerta a otras culturas, a los cines nacionales y a piezas que pocas veces vuelven a pasar por los circuitos convencionales. Esto me dio pie a recomendar de otra manera y a hacerme una apasionada de estas películas off que tanto tienen que luchar por hacerse un lugar en la cartelera y algunas de ellas son verdaderas joyas. Incluso, recuerdo que en una discusión para decidir un premio le dimos importancia a los antivalores como una manera de denuncia fuerte, sin vueltas, el negativo de lo que debería ser para revelar el positivo. No es que apoyáramos los antivalores sino que su presencia frente a la ausencia del bien, nos ayudaba a justificar la posición del cineasta que había escogido contar una realidad desde ese costado crudo y así concientizar al espectador.

Por último, decir que desde mi profesión de periodista, investigar cómo se hacen las películas, quiénes las hacen, quiénes las financian, qué ideas se reciclan en cada argumento, las vidas de las personas frente y detrás de cámaras, es algo apasionante. Lo mejor es que pueda contribuir a utilizar los medios de una manera inteligente y hallar contenidos hasta en el entretenimiento. Siempre pedí a Dios ser comunicadora católica y a través de la recomendación en la radio o en la gráfica y las intervenciones en los jurados, siento que Él me lo concedió y no sólo eso, sino la gracia de encontrar otras personas, que también han encontrado su vocación en este servicio, muchos de ellos en SIGNIS por una Cultura de Paz.

ALBERTO RAMOS

FRESA Y CHOCOLATE/ STRAWBERRY AND CHOCOLATE

Director: Tomás Gutiérrez- Alea / Juan Carlos Tabío
Country: Cuba, Mexico, Spain, 1993
OCIC Prize, La Habana, 1993; OCIC Commendation, Berlinale 1994

SHORT REVIEW

El encuentro de un estudiante comunista (David) con un homosexual culto y marginado (Diego) en la Cuba de finales de los setenta da inicio a una hermosa amistad que se impone a prejuicios y exclusiones. Para David representará, además, un viaje iniciático a las raíces de la cultura cubana, así como el despertar de una vocación: la literatura. Diego, por otra parte, recuperará la fe en el hombre y la nobleza de sus ideales. Juntos descubren en el diálogo abierto y fraterno la posibilidad de crecer como seres humanos. Un filme luminoso y conmovedor, brillantemente escrito, con dos de las actuaciones más memorables que haya registrado la historia del cine cubano.

LONG REVIEW

La historia de Diego, fotógrafo e intelectual marginado por su condición gay en la Cuba revolucionaria de fines de los setenta, y David, estudiante universitario de Ciencias Sociales, comunista y homofóbico, comienza cuando ambos coinciden en una famosa heladería habanera (de ahí el título de Fresa y Chocolate, que asocia dichos sabores a las respectivas preferencias sexuales de los protagonistas), y se cierra tras un desgarrador abrazo que sella simbólicamente la amistad nacida entre ambos. Dicha relación se forja a través de sucesivos encuentros que tienen por escenario la “guarida” de Diego, suerte de templo del arte atestado de iconografía cubana donde David, a la vez que prueba sus primeras armas en la literatura, descubre la otra cara de la cultura nacional –voluntaria o negligentemente silenciada por la retórica oficialista.

Fascinación, desconfianza y temor se mezclan en la reacción inicial de David ante Diego, pues se trata de enfrentar al Otro que, además de homosexual y creyente, desafía a la institución política, fustigando la mediocridad de una burocracia obsesionada en vigilar y castigar toda desviación de la norma sancionada por el Poder, sea ideológica, sexual o confesional. Más adelante, sin embargo, lo que comenzó como un fallido intento de seducción por parte de Diego deriva en un admirable diálogo entre tutor y discípulo que desmonta esas estructuras opresivas y convierte a David, de un ingenuo y prejuiciado portavoz de la última hornada de revolucionarios cubanos, en un ser más comprensivo y abierto al reclamo de justicia reivindicado por Diego. Demanda que, a todas luces, trasciende la simple aceptación de la diferencia sexual para referir al derecho de disentir que asiste a todo ser humano, sin menoscabo de su dignidad y condición. Para Diego, tocado por la pureza de David, la experiencia implica dejar atrás su predisposición a juzgar desde el resentimiento –típica reacción del sujeto estigmatizado y excluido–, para crecer junto al otro en lo humano, desde una cultura del diálogo acogedor y respetuoso. En último término, ambos personajes representan las dos mitades de un país escindido por una apropiación dogmática, excluyente y autoritaria del concepto de nación. La película, que aparece justo cuando la utopía del socialismo real se derrumba tras la caída del Muro de Berlín y Cuba se hunde en la peor crisis económica y moral de su historia, se hace eco de las mutaciones que experimenta el discurso oficial de la época, caracterizado por el abandono de la ortodoxia marxista a favor de un nacionalismo más plural y tolerante.

La puesta en escena, típica de un relato de iniciación en la vida, apela a una narrativa de corte melodramático donde descuellan la impecable factura del guión, un concepto escenográfico, fotográfico y musical en función de las negociaciones simbólicas alrededor de los tópicos de la cubanía y de la salvación por la cultura que centran el discurso fílmico, y las extraordinarias prestaciones de Jorge Perugorría y Vladimir Cruz (en los roles de Diego y David, respectivamente) como agentes de ese proyecto de redención colectiva en el cual se inscribe el filme.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Al reseñar un filme se impone atender como mínimo (aunque no exclusivamente), a los siguientes aspectos:

1) detalles básicos de la trama que permitan una visión sumaria de lo narrado;

2) rasgos estilísticos sobresalientes (en lo que atañe a puesta en escena y cámara, así como a la postproducción) con una implicación directa en la expresión de las ideas manejadas por el filme;

3) contextualización histórica del relato y las correspondencias que se establecen en ambos sentidos entre este y la época donde se enmarca (actitud crítica, laudatoria o indiferente; fidelidad o distorsión de la mirada; apertura o censura, etc.);

4) especial atención al diseño de personajes como portadores de la ideología y el sistema de valores del filme;

5) identificación de los significados explícitos e implícitos en el discurso fílmico, con énfasis en la expresión de valores humanos universales que sancionen o disientan de una ética humanista asentada en la prédica cristiana de los Evangelios. Se trata de un examen crítico y rigurosamente fundamentado que busque y revele, en las narraciones cinematográficas, la encarnación de una espiritualidad viva y contradictoria que, consciente o no de ello, interpela a Dios desde nuestra naturaleza pecadora, así como los aciertos y limitaciones del realizador a la hora de evocar esas experiencias de vida a través del lenguaje audiovisual.

BIOGRAPHY

Alberto Ramos Ruiz (Cuba, 1957). Film critic and festival programmer. His reviews have appeared in Ecos, Cine Cubano, Ciemme and cin&media (Venice), SIGNIS Media (Brussels), Kinetoscopio (Bogotá) and Pantalla 90 (Madrid), among others, as well as in several online websites like Miradas, Mabuse, SIGNIS and Nuevo Cine Latinoamericano. As film critic, he has covered the festivals of Venice, San Sebastián, Montréal, Fribourg, Rotterdam, Berlin, Zanzibar and Toronto, where he has also served in the SIGNIS, Ecumenical and FIPRESCI juries. From 2003 to 2006, he was the Cuban correspondent of the International Film Guide (London). Besides that, he has contributed to the biographical and thematic entries of the forthcoming Dictionary of Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American Cinema (SGAE, Madrid). In 2005, he joined the staff of the International Festival of New Latin American Cinema, held annually in Havana, as catalogue editor and programmer of the Official Section and the sidebars World Documentary Panorama and Experimental Cinema. He is a member of SIGNIS Cuba since 1996, and edited its magazine Ecos from 2000 to 2007.

MAGGIE ROUX

LADYBIRD LADYBIRD

UK, 1994, d. Ken Loach.
Berlin 1994, Ecumenical Prize

SHORT REVIEW

Loach’s film Ladybird Ladybird (1994 Berlinale Ecumenical Jury Prize) tells the story of Maggie an abused mother, with four children by four different fathers.
The film charts a pathway through well trodden Loach territory. Maggie is poor, powerless and working class. She struggles to survive against the twin perils of her personal inability to sustain a decent family life clashing with a support system which is hopelessly encumbered by over work and underfunding straight- jacketed into a legal approach to the deepest of human problems which instead require a creative, realistic approach. A disturbing, thought provoking but ultimately hopeful, film.

LONG REVIEW

Loach’s film Ladybird Ladybird (1994 Berlinale Ecumenical Jury Prize) tells the story of Maggie an abused Liverpudlian mother, with four children by four different fathers.
Having left her most recent violent partner after a beating (an unflinching piece of direction from Loach and exceptional performances from Chrissie Rock and Ray Winstone) Maggie and the children live in a battered woman’s refuge. It is an under-funded mess with dangerous electrical wiring. While Maggie is on a night out she leaves her children locked in the refuge in the informal care of another mother. There is a terrible accident ending in tragedy for Maggie’s young son. As a result of her parental neglect Maggie loses her children. The story then plots the inevitable stages of the breakdown of the individual and the family. Maggie is granted limited, supervised contact with her children, however her interactions with the authorities from one exhausted, but caring foster parent to the child protection board which deems her unfit to be a mother, demonstrate a woman whose mode of behaviour and communication is dictated by the anger and fear of her own violent and neglected childhood. Loach shows us a child protection system which uses punitive tactics almost designed to further inflame passionate situations. His compassionate camera tracks the resigned passivity of children who have no expectation other than being passed from unsuitable pillar to dangerous post and he shows the explosive, desperation of parents unable to control their response to an unfathomable system.

Maggie’s new partner Jorge (a political refugee) is not violent. He has a real sense of the importance of love and of family. Through Jorge’s story Loach clearly positions the contrast between political regimes characterised by brutality and that of the powers challenging Maggie which are well meaning, if not carefully thought through. Maggie and Jorge go on to have two daughters - each taken from Maggie at, or soon after birth simply as a precaution against Maggie’s past pattern (violent partner, children put at risk) repeating in the future.

Loach himself describes Ladybird, Ladybird as “rather a tough film for people to take”. His film ends with hope, however. The film is based on a true story. While Maggie and Jorge lose their two daughters, some rapprochement is clearly reached with the authorities as revealed at the end of the film. Neither the system nor Maggie, are, in the end, ultimate failures.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

My work as a film reviewer has been directed at three different and often separate audiences. First as an academic writing film comment for academic purposes my reviews are generally in depth with space for discussion on related aspects of academic film theory, scholarship, film history and discourse on modes and effects.

The second audience are those interested in religious, mythic and spiritual aspects of film. These reviews are unlikely to engage with academic discourses on film. Rather they might explore concepts such as archetypal motifs, theological concepts such as redemption or saving grace or broadly spiritual themes such as the symbolism of the journey, managing changes or, perhaps, a character coming to terms with their approaching death

The third (and main) audience for my reviews is the radio audience. This can then be further broken down into two main sections – the Radio Four National and International audience which is a combination of the first two general audiences – knowledgeable, fairly serious, mature and savvy and the local radio audience. This last, has been my main audience for several years served by a weekly radio review spot on BBC Radio Leeds. This audience is particularly well targeted. The radio station has a very clear understanding of who their audience is – even down to identifying them by name (such as Sandra and Ray). They are around fifty plus, married with children and a dog and they live within a certain financial bracket. Obviously the station caters for a fairly wide sweep of ages, types, family situations etc but their bedrock audience is the one which presenters must ensure not to alienate.

It is this last group with whom I identify most when reviewing films. These are the people who go to see movies in multiplexes or in tiny village cinemas (indeed it is this group who keep such cinemas alive). They rarely, if ever, go to inner city arts cinemas. They generally live in the suburbs or well outside of town centres and the expense of inner city parking and cinema tickets is prohibitive within their entertainment budget.

It is the last group who made movies such as Mamma Mia runaway hits both in cinema and through DVD sales. They might go to see Mel Gibson’s Signs but are unlikely to have seen The Passion of the Christ or Apocalypto.

My personal response to the task of film reviewing for such an audience is one of seeing and of waiting. I do not allow myself to research a film before reviewing it. I must bring as much personal insight to my reviews as I can, therefore the cacophony of views, opinions, gossip etc about movies can get in the way of my own voice. The listeners have to trust me. It they don’t they will simply switch off after one or two unsuccessful (and for this audience, expensive) trips to the cinema. They have to know that if I think a film is worth the price of babysitters, petrol, parking and cinema tickets then they are fairly safe to make the trip. I will tell them whether, in my view, the film is not worth such a precious and expensive night out but possibly is worth purchasing on DVD when the prices come down. It might be that my advice is to wait until it is shown on the television. It might be not to bother at all.

I try to arrange my viewing a few days before my broadcast. That way I give a film time to percolate through my thoughts. What themes do I find emerge in the cinema and what themes wait to emerge even more insistently as I replay the film in my mind – perhaps when driving to and from work? Which films engage me even more in the couple of days between viewing and broadcast and which begin to fade? Which films did I hate or love on viewing but find over the next couple of days begin to change for me? Which films disappoint almost at once and continue to disappoint? A fairly recent example of such a film is Will Smith’s Seven Pounds. This was nothing like as deep and as enduring as Sean Penn’s 21 grams. Both of these films should be perfect for my audience. One however disappointed and the other grows in stature as time passes.

Mamma Mia was joyful, but was superficially just a chick flick. However it had the underlying themes of the mature search for romance and love and seeing one’s children off into their own lives. Watching Mammia Mia in a packed cinema of the Abba generation and with a friend in her 70’s, the song Slipping Through My Fingers rendered the audience silent and reflective. Many (including my friend whose only child, a daughter, had died in her forties from cancer) were silently weeping during those few minutes. Shirley Valentine an ever popular film with this audience explores the moment when the middle-aged realise their dreams are faded and that the reality they are living cannot sustain them into their old age.

As the reviewer serving this audience I have to be attentive to such themes – seeing past the superficial comedy, for example, in a film such as such as The Full Monty - a film about men stripping themselves to the bone.

The heart of the film is the loss of work and dignity for a proud people. This is ever more a contemporary situation. My audience of local radio listeners live in this uncertain world and films like The Full Monty hold up a two sided mirror to their fears – one tragic and the other comedic. The recognition of the first and the ministry of the second assure people that their story is being told.

And that is the most important thing I as a reviewer must understand. My reviews must serve my audience’s need to engage with films through which they can recognise their own stories, their own lives. The genres might be comic, chick flick, buddy, violent, epic – genre is beside the point: details such as the stars, the directors etc are interesting but also beside the point. The point for my audience is the same as that of the SIGNIS and Ecumenical Juries. They connect with stories speaking of humanity, spirituality, justice, human dignity, respect for the environment, peace and solidarity.

BIOGRAPHY

Maggie has over forty years of experience in Broadcasting, voice production creative writing and content generation for creative programming. She continues to maintain a regular presence in the broadcasting industries as a television and radio contributor on film criticism and general matters of media, film and faith.
Maggie has served as a Director of The World Association for Christian Communication (which supports and manages media projects across the world). She has also served on the European Committee for that organisation.

In the 1990’s Maggie served for five years on the Central Religious Advisory Committee for the BBC and the I.T.C. She was one of the authors of Religion & Religious Broadcasting – Report of the Working Party of the Central Religious Advisory Committee (1996) commissioned by the BBC and I.T.C. Maggie was also one of the special working party reporting to a Parliamentary Committee discussing the Future of Religious Broadcasting in a changing regulatory framework.

She sits on the Strategic Communications Steering Committee for the Catholic Bishops Office for England and Wales. Maggie served for many years on the Editorial Board of the Leeds Diocesan Catholic Voice and later the Catholic Post. She has been a member of the Strategic Communications Steering Committee for the Catholic Bishops Office for England and Wales and has represented the Bishop’s Conference at meetings both in Madrid and Rome. Maggie is a member of SIGNIS (the International Catholic Organisation for Film and Media) and a consultative member to the Board.

EDGAR RUBIO

DESIERTO ADENTRO/ DESERT WITHIN

Director. Rodrigo Plá.
Productores: Germán Méndez y Rodrigo Plá
Guión. Laura Santillo y Rodrigo Plá.
Fotografía: Serguei Salívar
Música: Jacobo Lieberman
Intérpretes: Mario Zaragoza, Diego Cataño, Martín Zapata, Hielen Yánez, Luis Fernando Peña.
México, 2008
Mención honorífica de SIGNIS en el Festival Cero Latitud, en Quito, Octubre 2008

SHORT REVIEW

Un hombre atormentado por la culpa pretende salvar su alma y el cuerpo de los hijos que le quedan construyendo un templo. Él busca, como sucedía en el Antiguo Testamento, un trueque: perdón a cambio de un holocausto, para sanar la ira de un Dios que sólo busca sangre y culpables. ¿Puede existir una forma divina más contraria a la revelación comunicada por Jesús con el tierno Abba? El filme del joven director uruguayo-mexicano Rodrigo Plá cimbra nuestro espíritu al mostrarnos cómo la obsesión religiosa deriva en locura y no en la libertad del amor al que el testimonio cristiano nos llama con persistencia.

LONG REVIEW

Quienes hemos experimentado la culpa sabemos el infierno de vivir sin posibilidad de paz.

¿Cómo revelar en el cine este tormento misterioso de la conciencia?

Esta conciencia culposa ha marcado la historia religiosa de México. Las manifestaciones de esa culpa pasan por peregrinaciones, rezos, vestimenta y resguardo de niños santos, vírgenes peregrinas, procesiones, mandas, retablos…

¿Qué mueve esta expresión de la religiosidad del pueblo de Dios?

Entre 1926 y 1929 esa religiosidad fue desviada hacia la Guerra Cristera. El gobierno fanático de Plutarco Elías Calles cerró los templos y optó por extirpar una fe que concebía como enajenante.

Obispos, sacerdotes y en especial laicos optaron por la opción militar para salvaguardar el derecho a la libertad de creer.

Encontraron un pueblo propicio para la lucha, capaz de seguir la autoridad de los párrocos, dispuesto a dar la vida por una tradición concentrada en templos, en imágenes y en la figura de los consagrados.

De este caldo de cultivo surge Elías (Mario Zaragoza), el protagonista de Desierto Adentro (México, 2008) película del director uruguayo formado en México, Rodrigo Plá.

Él no parece dispuesto a tomar las armas por la Iglesia. Pero la creencia en el destino de los niños no bautizados lo deposita en el terreno de la culpa.

“Maldito es quien por preservar la vida de uno de sus hijos permite la muerte de sus hermanos”. Ésta y otras maldiciones terminan por arrojarlo al desierto. Encamina en esta locura a sus hijos. A uno de ellos lo encierra, como Niño Dios, en un relicario y en un baúl.

El cifrado vétero-testamentario del filme nos muestra los símbolos del desierto, de un Dios inmisericorde, de un hombre condenado, de la ausencia de providencia divina, de sacrificios y de expiaciones que no terminan por “complacer” a un Dios desencarnado de la vida, sin presencia comunitaria y sin amor.

Elías arrastra en esta fe desierta a sus hijos vivos. Los preserva para cumplir la encomienda de construir un templo y calmar, así, la ira de Dios.

A él lo mueve el miedo. Teme perder lo que ama.

La fuerza íntima de la libertad comienza a desplegarse en la conciencia de sus hijos: uno desea una mujer, otra tocar lo que se le ha presentado como prohibido, otro más sólo subir un árbol. La fotografía y la banda sonora del filme nos comunican con fuerza estas convicciones.

La libertad del amor choca con la desolación del miedo. La culpa sin misericordia sólo deriva en muerte como con el traidor de las treinta monedas, incapaz de mirar en la cruz la felicidad redentora de quien da la vida por sus amigos.

La religión cuando en lugar de revelar sesga, cuando en lugar de liberar encierra, y cuando en lugar de amar opta por infundir miedo, se convierte en un totalitarismo atroz, cercano en formas y actos a los peores totalitarismos de la historia de la humanidad. Es una religión incapaz de ofrecer esperanza.

Rodrigo Plá, vía las manos de Aureliano (Diego Cataño), el hijo más pequeño de Elías, parece repetirnos que la única expiación humanizante es la que deriva en arte.

Una y otra vez los sucesos más trágicos, pero también los que son fuente de esperanza, son transformados por Aureliano en retablos religiosos bellamente elaborados, que dotan de una textura fantástica e icónica al filme de Plá.

A través de ellos se graba el tiempo-vida de su familia. Nada, ni la muerte, escapa a su mirada y a su arte.

Un arte que terminará liberándolo de la obsesión pecaminosa del Padre. Al final, tras la pérdida de lo amado, comprende que sólo la Misericordia puede abrir al hombre a la libertad y al bien, y corre. Nada podrá ya detenerlo.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Sigo en mi propuesta de lectura del Cine una versión libre del método trascendental del filósofo Bernard Lonergan, contenido en cuatro encomiendas para los seres: sé atento (ver), sé inteligente (entender), sé juicioso (valorar) y ama (actuar).

Ver

Miramos en el cine sólo una porción minúscula del proceso de creación cinematográfica. Como sucede en nuestra vida cotidiana, todo lo que da sentido a nuestra existencia escapa a la pobreza de nuestra mirada.

Pero eso que vemos es mucho, es vasto, tanto que es difícil apreciar en toda su magnitud la riqueza del filme; por eso nuestra mirada sólo alcanza a ver y a recordar algunos detalles de la obra cinematográfica, sólo percibimos algunos de los recursos: una docena de planos, un enfoque, un registro, cómo es utilizada la luz en una escena, o el movimiento narrativo de la cámara en una secuencia.

Nuestra mirada corta nos dice que tal asunto es importante para la lectura del largometraje, que el guión se sustenta en tales y tales referencias, que la dirección de arte abreva de determinadas fuentes.

¿Cómo apreciar cabalmente un filme si lo que lo constituye no está presente en el cuadro de la imagen?

¿Cómo comprender el esfuerzo humano contenido en una realización cinematográfica si ésta escapa a la pobreza de nuestra mirada?

¿Qué detalles nos podrían estar revelando la verdadera naturaleza de una película?

¿Cómo se mira lo que se ama?

Todo nos parece indicar que lo primero que requiere el cine es aprecio por lo que se ve, amor por lo que se mira, una atención profunda para intentar ver la realidad llevada a nuestra mirada por la pasión y el amor de un hombre dispuesto a filtrar su realidad interior-intelección (director de cine) a través de la artesanía de una realización cinematográfica y del esfuerzo solidario de un grupo de amigos (guión, fotografía, dirección de arte, actuación), y de todo lo que permite la construcción del universo contenido en una película.

Entender (Insight).

Degustar las imágenes, rumiarlas, de modo que se apoderen de nuestra conciencia, que las recordemos y volvamos a vivir. De eso se trata el ver una película.

Pasar de la impresión general sensitiva al reconocimiento y al compromiso.

El cine está ahí, presente como un misterio luminoso que nos convoca y nos consuela.

Podría terminar con el encendido de las luces o con un vacío: me gustó, o con una voz de desprecio.

Sólo cuando regresamos a las imágenes, para intentar comprenderlas y disfrutarlas, el cine aparece en su real magnitud.

Tal proceso requiere de la atención profunda, del estar atentos a los detalles, las actuaciones, los métodos, las palabras y, sobretodo, a las imágenes donde se carga el simbolismo de un filme.

La lectura, además de este nivel de atención, requiere poner a disposición un background de conocimientos históricos, científicos, humanos, espirituales; para poder comprender la obra que se nos es mostrada como un regalo.

Sé inteligente sería la demanda en este nivel, si queremos reconocernos en el cine.

Valorar.

Caer en cuenta de esta primera impresión del filme nos lleva a la siguiente cuestión: preguntarnos si realmente es así, entrar en diálogo sobre los símbolos de la película, para, posteriormente, atender al llamado a las posturas éticas e ideológicas contenidas en todo cine verdadero.

Se trata de construir un proceso humano de reflexión sobre una obra artística.

Esto no es un asunto menor ni una elucubración ociosa. Mejor aún, es la posibilidad de tener actos de intelección poderosos, revelados por el lenguaje cinematográfico.

¿Quién no ha visto reflejada alguna faceta de su vida en un filme?, ¿quién no ha caído en cuenta de algún problema vital mientras contempla una escena?, ¿quién no ha incorporado algún dato o argumento a su ensamble de conocimientos revelado vía un documental o una cinta de ficción?

Actuar.

Llevar el cine a la calle, a mis decisiones diarias, a la vida pues. Descubrirme citando en mis conversaciones escenas de películas que me han marcado, rumiando palabras escritas con imágenes, aprovechando piezas concretas de cine en las clases, recordándome viendo un filme determinado en una época de mi vida. Participando de ese gran Filme (con mayúsculas) donde alguien más nos mira siempre, en una especie de narrativa cinematográfica donde los hombres nos miramos y somos mirados por Dios.

La más importante tarea en esta zona del fenómeno cinematográfico es la posibilidad que ofrece el cine de purificar nuestra mirada, de retornar a la esperanza y de amar.

Esto abreva de repensar el cine, de construir las palabras para nombrarlo, de elegir aquellas voces fieles a la verdad del director, quien ha pasado también por este proceso para construir su obra.

Con este sentido de pertenencia a una humanidad peregrina, con la esperanza puesta en la luz misteriosa de aquello que hace surgir desde el fondo de las conciencias al cine y nos permite mirarlo y comprenderlo.

Y esta realidad no puede sino situarse en el territorio misterioso del amor. Porque en un sentido profundo el cine es un acto de amor, y mirarlo y descubrirlo con este resguardo de lo que consideramos valioso, nos ayuda a comprenderlo mejor, a verlo mejor y a convertirlo en una nueva buena noticia.

¿Cuantas veces no hemos salido reconciliados con la existencia después de mirar una película? ¿Cuántas veces no hemos salido de una sala conflictuados, horrorizados? Y comienza un proceso en nuestro interior que nos lleva a buscar, con nuestros medios limitados, una transformación en la esperanza de esa realidad expuesta por un director indignado.

Por esas tantas y tantas veces que el cine nos convoca, nos sacude y nos fastidia; por ser esa luz icónica para mirar la realidad de un mundo consumido por la desesperanza, por mirarnos desde nuestra propia verdad sin otra mediación, por la posibilidad de ser un arte verdadero; el cine y su encarnación en películas nos purifica, nos recrea la esperanza y nos convierte en el amor y en la fe de que esta realidad, vista por una cámara, puede transformarse humanamente al anunciar la buena noticia de ser, en su estrato más profundo, una luz tocada por el rostro de Jesús; como el prójimo encarnado, que somos nosotros mismos, si permitimos ver-valorar-entender-actuar apropiados por la esperanza que esa misma luz emana incesantemente.

BIOGRAPHY

Maestro en Educación Humanista por la Universidad Iberoamericana y Licenciado en Comunicación por la Universidad Loyola del Pacífico.
Académico en las áreas de Cine, Comunicación, Lenguaje y Reflexión crítica de la modernidad en la Universidad Loyola del Pacífico, la Universidad Interamericana para el Desarrollo, el Ayuntamiento de Acapulco y organismos federales del Gobierno de México.

Desde su juventud participa en distintos proyectos de apoyo comunitario y pastoral en comunidades indígenas de la sierra de Guerrero.

Fue Secretario General del Consejo Nacional de Laicos de México, Editor del Semanario de la Arquidiócesis de Acapulco “Mar Adentro”, Coordinador del Programa Diálogo Fe Cultura de la Universidad Loyola del Pacífico y miembro del Campo Estratégico Fe-Cultura?del Sistema Universitario Jesuita.
Desde 1996 publica críticas de cine y poesía en distintos medios de comunicación de circulación local y nacional.
En 2007 fue miembro del Jurado internacional SIGNIS para la 64ª. Mostra Internazionale d'Arte Cinematografica de Venecia.

JUAN PABLO SERRA

LA BUENA ESTRELLA/ LUCKY STAR

Spain, 1997, director Ricardo Franco
Mención especial del jurado ecuménico en el Festival de Cannes 1997

SHORT REVIEW

Rafael, un carnicero sencillo que tiempo atrás resultó castrado en un accidente laboral, lleva una existencia tranquila y solitaria desde la muerte de sus padres. Una noche auxilia a Marina, una joven pordiosera que está siendo apaleada por Daniel, su compañero y amante. Más aún, la acoge en su casa e inician una relación en la que ambos dan cumplimiento a su anhelo de tener una familia. Sus expectativas de normalidad se complican cuando Daniel —del que Marina sigue enamorada— sale de la cárcel y se presenta en la casa de ambos.

Pese a estar basada en una historia real, su argumento es algo “extraño” y contiene aspectos morales discutibles. Aún así, Ricardo Franco consigue plenamente su objetivo de mostrar que la bondad anida en todo corazón, existe y, cuando se manifiesta, reconstruye a las personas y a la misma sociedad.

LONG REVIEW

“¿Cómo puede uno saber lo que ocurre en el corazón de otro?” se pregunta Rafa en un momento de la cinta. Un interrogante complejo al que, sin embargo, intentan responder con delicadeza Ricardo Franco y Ángeles González-Sinde?, director y guionista. Como los animales del matadero que son descuartizados durante los créditos iniciales, Franco —que moriría un año después de estrenar esta película, en pleno rodaje de su siguiente obra— disecciona con especial sensibilidad el alma de sus personajes mediante una puesta en escena de pocos escenarios, planos cortos y potentes subrayados musicales que muestran a estos tres seres como son, a veces bondadosos, a veces reincidentes en viejos vicios. Así, sus acciones y decisiones revelan tanto la sorprendente capacidad regenerativa de los actos altruistas como la deshumanización que produce el egoísmo, la indiferencia o la insolidaridad.

Por un lado está el manso, un carnicero castrado, de religiosidad cristiana arraigada, que vuelve a la vida gracias al acto de caridad sincera que realiza con Marina. Su hermana será la primera en darse cuenta de la dinámica propia de la libertad, que cuando se usa para hacer el bien redunda en los demás pero, también, sobre la persona que lleva a cabo el acto bueno. Cuando Rafa le comenta que quiere estar con Marina porque —a pesar de su azarosa vida pasada, de orfanato en orfanato— ella le llena la vida de alegría, no encuentra reproche en su hermana, sino todo lo contrario. “La de veces que te he imaginado en esa casa, viejo, solo… ¿Es una locura que estés con ella? ¡Lo que es, es un milagro!”.

Además, será mediante la relación con Marina que Rafa superará momentáneamente su condición de manso. “Soy un hombre herido, mutilado, pero soy un hombre” le dirá a su mujer, la tuerta, una antigua prostituta que, tras ser rescatada gracias a un acto de bondad desinteresada, redescubre en sí misma sus mejores anhelos, tales como ser madre y formar una familia. A diferencia de Daniel, que quería que abortara, con Rafa estos deseos no son negados sino potenciados, hasta el punto que reconocerá legalmente a la hija de Marina y asumirá una paternidad real con respecto a ella. Incluso Daniel, el guapo de cara, un patético delincuente de poca monta —excelentemente interpretado por Jordi Mollá—, experimentará una leve transformación al ser acogido en casa de Marina y Rafa. Incapaz de fiarse de nadie y pendiente en exceso de sí mismo, la convivencia en un verdadero hogar y el ser tratado dignamente harán aflorar tímidamente en él el agradecimiento (ver la funda de navaja que compra a Rafa), la preocupación por el otro (recoge a la pequeña Estrella en la guardería, recomienda a Rafa que se abrigue antes de salir de casa) e incluso el respeto y consideración hacia la valía de las personas generosas.

La buena estrella ganó cinco premios Goya —película, director, guión original, actor principal y banda sonora— y propició un moderado debate en medios religiosos. El principal punto en disputa tuvo que ver con la “asistencia” que Marina presta al final del film para acabar con el sufrimiento de un Daniel en estado terminal. Se trata de un acto moralmente inaceptable, sí, pero no de un protocolo que la película proponga como medida universal. De hecho, en la escena inmediatamente anterior el personaje había recibido la Extrema Unción de manos del amigo sacerdote de Rafa. Pese al recelo que tiene contra los sacerdotes y de su escepticismo hacia la religión (“si hay un Dios no creo que vayamos a hacer las paces Él y yo… y si es tan bueno como decís, no me va a dejar colgado como todo el mundo”, una opinión que suscribía el director de La buena estrella), lo cierto es que acepta el sacramento y escucha la oración donde justamente se apela a la “bondadosa misericordia” de Dios. La diferencia de matices entre Rafa —único creyente de los tres, que se había negado con vehemencia a “liquidar” a Daniel— y Marina —agnóstica, que accede a “ayudar” a Daniel movida por la compasión y falta de voluntad propia— muestra a las claras la imposibilidad de universalizar la resolución de esta situación.

El otro asunto discutido tuvo que ver con la pertinencia de que un ateo y anarquista —tal como gustaba definirse Ricardo Franco— presentara como caritativas ciertas acciones que más bien son inmorales, ingenuas o directamente torpes (entregar la propia esposa a otro, disparar a alguien para que deje de sufrir, asumir la paternidad de hijos ajenos). Estas situaciones podrán resultar extrañas o forzadas, pero eran el modo peculiar en que el director entendía la caridad como elemento que ayuda a sobrellevar el abandono y la soledad. Se trata de dos heridas que nunca curan —de ahí la sensación de tristeza y el ligero nihilismo que coronan el film—, pero que gracias a la compañía cordial de amigos, esposa, hijos… se hacen más llevaderas.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Como crítico de cine, hay dos caras que siempre intento analizar en un film e incluir en mis reseñas. Por un lado, busco juzgar elementos como el guión (estructura de la historia, calidad de los diálogos, dibujo de personajes), el lenguaje de cámara, la puesta en escena en conjunto y las tesis de fondo. Por otro lado, procuro buscar la información relevante acerca de la sociedad en la que nace la película, la corriente cinematográfica en la que encaja y el tema del argumento.

Ciertamente, cada película exige una reseña distinta. Cuando empecé a escribir crítica cinematográfica, mi enfoque tendía ser más “periodístico” y a equilibrar información sobre la película (premios, declaraciones del director, recaudación en el país de estreno, etc.), enunciación de las tesis del film y explicación del significado de ciertos planos o secuencias. Con el paso del tiempo, he tendido a adoptar un enfoque más “académico”, donde cada vez aprecio más el contraste con las opiniones de otros expertos y voces autorizadas.

Actualmente, el método que sigo para escribir críticas de cine es como sigue. Primero, veo la película y dedico un rato a reflexionar sobre el significado de la historia. Dependiendo de la película, para llevar a cabo esta reflexión aplico categorías morales, históricas, filosóficas, existenciales, éticas o antropológicas. En segundo lugar, me formo una hipótesis de trabajo que voy contrastando con críticas ya publicadas en periódicos nacionales y en medios extranjeros (para lo cual suelen ser útiles bases de datos como Metacritic). La lectura de este material suele proporcionarme una base consistente de aquellos puntos de un film mejor valorados por la mayoría y habitualmente me suscita varias preguntas acerca de si es o no significativo que ciertos elementos de un film sean poco destacados. En tercer lugar, comparo la hipótesis obtenida tras esta breve labor de investigación con la experiencia humana elemental, esto es, con aquellas exigencias eternas de verdad, belleza, justicia, felicidad, etc. con las que el ser humano está dotado. ¿Es la película leal con la experiencia y el drama humanos? suele ser la pregunta que guía mi labor de análisis.

Una vez que he formado una hipótesis final sobre el film —contrastada con otras reseñas y con las intenciones de los creadores de una película— examino mentalmente el film buscando aquellos planos, movimientos de cámara, subrayados musicales, estilos de interpretación, efectos de montaje, vestuario y dirección artística que corroboren o de algún modo sostengan mi interpretación acerca del significado del film. No se trata de “seleccionar” aquellos datos que confirmen que mi interpretación es la buena, sino de mostrar que se trata de una hipótesis plausible. Normalmente, el texto fílmico puede apuntar a algo más allá de él, a algo que la propia película no abarca —venga indicado por la misma obra o venga indicado por defecto—. Una película como La buena estrella no es “religiosa” en un sentido estrecho del término, entre otras cosas, porque hay toda una dimensión trascendente del hombre que no abarca. Pero, desde luego, la insistente mención a la exigencia de contar con una “buena estrella” en la vida y la tristeza de fondo que rodea a los tres personajes principales, habla a gritos de la pequeñez del ser humano, que necesita radicalmente de Otro que le saque de la soledad tanto como saber que su vida tiene sentido. Que incluso con la cantidad de acontecimientos que no controlamos y que nos deterioran, aún exista la posibilidad de ser salvados, rescatados gracias a una buena estrella que nos guía en el camino de la vida.

Se trata, en definitiva, de un criterio eminentemente antropológico y no exclusivamente moral o exclusivamente cinematográfico el que aplico a la hora de escribir crítica de cine, y desde el que intento sonsacar qué visión de lo humano expresa el director o creador de la película en cuestión. Pienso que este es el valor añadido que, como filósofo y cristiano, puedo ofrecer al lector y, además, estoy convencido que esta ha de ser la labor preeminente del crítico de cine católico. Habida cuenta de la reducción a criterios de imagen, técnica, comercialidad o —en el mejor de los casos— esquemas ideológicos con que suele venir adornada la crítica “secular”, sigue siendo de vital importancia que los críticos católicos no tengan miedo a entrar a valorar los temas de fondo que aparecen en prácticamente cualquier película.

Por lo general, los directores de cine suelen tener intenciones muy precisas a la hora de elegir un plano o de resaltar una determinada línea de diálogo. Los mejores artistas no hablan tanto de sí mismos como de la realidad y, con su modo de expresarse, nos ofrecen su comprensión del mundo, fruto de horas de observación y experiencia compartida. Por eso, el mejor servicio que puede ofrecer un crítico de cine es hacer ver a otros lo que ve el filme para iluminar, a través de la película, la realidad de la existencia.

BIOGRAPHY

Juan Pablo Serra (Buenos Aires, 1979) es profesor de Formación Humanística en la Universidad Francisco de Vitoria (Madrid) y de Antropología en la Facultad de Comunicación del Centro Universitario Villanueva (Madrid). Co-autor del libro Pasión de los fuertes (2005), escribe en la revista Pantalla 90, colabora en distintas publicaciones y ha sido miembro de los jurados SIGNIS en Toulousse (2004) y San Sebastián (2005). Sus últimos trabajos publicados sobre cine tienen que ver con la evolución de la obra de Clint Eastwood y con la recuperación del cine alemán contemporáneo.

ETER SHEEHAN AUSTRALIA

THE BLACK BALLOON

Australia, 2008

Directed by Elisa Down

Australian Catholic Film Office (SIGNIS Australia) award, 2008.

SHORT REVIEW

This is a moving and sensitive film about a handicapped young man, Charlie, who is mentally challenged and suffers from autism. He is the focus of a caring and loving family – chaotic and struggling – which is constantly frustrated by his shifting moods, and outrageous behaviour. The human spirit soars above heartbreak in a movie that illustrates the values of compassion, caring and love of a human person that lie behind the SIGNIS and Interfaith awards. The movie’s display of these virtues contrasts with the cruelty of those who would prefer to disparage handicap than face up to its reality. The film is funny at times, always confronting in one way or another, but above all warm in its genuine spirit of tolerance and understanding.

LONG REVIEW

This film premiered at Berlin’s International Film Festival in February, 2008, where it received the award for the best feature–length film in the Generation 14 plus category. It is a first feature length debut for Elissa Down, who directs a semi-autobiographical account of a family’s attempts to cope with the frustrations of caring for Charlie, a severely autistic young man (superbly played by Luke Ford). The film is a story about family, the permanency of love, finding love, growing-up, and disability. It is a moving and thoroughly authentic account of the ups-and-downs, and heartbreaking effects of autism on a chaotic family. Toni Collette plays the role of Charlie’s mother who is ordered to stay in bed to preserve her pregnancy. She gives over the immediate caring of Charlie to her son, Thomas (Rhys Wakefield) who is tested almost in every way by Charlie, his older brother. Thomas’ attraction to a girl friend at school (Gemma Ward) is compromised by Charlie’s behaviour and the relationship between Charlie and Thomas goes astray, and has to be discovered again.

The love of the family members is offset by the cruelty and harshness of the world outside the family, which can’t cope with Charlie’s obvious disabilities. Thomas is made the butt of cruel jokes at school and he has to respond to false preconceptions and attitudes about his mentally handicapped brother. The heart of the movie is displayed, not by authoritative statements or opinions, but by the humanity of those who sensitively show their love for a fellow human being they are committed to, and who is an integral part of their family unit.

This is not a perfect movie in any way. It comes to a heart-warming end that provides convenient closure, and it is a little stereotyped in its treatment of Australian suburbia. But the film offers us a profoundly moving account of caring people whose love for one of their own is tested almost beyond the limit. As a pro-family and pro-disability film, and often unnerving to watch, it stands as a powerful testimony to the fortitude of the human spirit and teaches us many lessons about love and survival.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

The primary criterion for assessing a film is that of “Quality.” This term, however, is an elusive one and represents many components parts. One looks to the adequacy of direction, acting, script, cinematography, art design, music, and production to name just a few of them. The component parts that are essential to my judgement of overall quality are direction and acting. If direction is not tight, sensitive and probing, and the film is poorly acted, then the presence of good cinematography, script, editing, and production, will have considerable trouble in filling the gap.

In judging quality, one must, I think, inevitably take on board the genre, which the film represents. This enhances relativity in the judgement process and allows one to compare the film indirectly with other movies like it, or films with similar aims. The context that surrounds a judgement of particular quality clearly varies as to whether the film achieves high quality in a particular genre; genre provides the context one brings to bear on the judgement of quality, and it can very much differ in terms of whether the film aims for comedy, high adventure, philosophical or introspective reflection about life (or life’s issues), fantasy, or the targeting of adult themes. Assessment of quality changes its character for the kind or type of movie one is considering. Only when genre is considered in relation to the judgement process can one understand the following list of quality films: “Vertigo”, “Fear Eats the Soul”, “2001: A Space Odyssey”, “The Conversation”, “A Night at the Opera”, “Gone with the Wind”, “Witness”, “The Lord of the Rings “, “Man of Flowers”, “Wake in Fright”, “Dr. No”, “The Seventh Seal”, “Citizen Kane”, “The Wages of Fear”, “Hunger”, “Some like it Hot”, “Deliverance”, “The Exterminating Angel”, “Blue Velvet”, “The Graduate”, “Klass”, and “Don’t Look Now”. This list illustrates films across different genres, and each film that is mentioned in the list (which is not exhaustive) merits, I believe, a judgement of high quality.

For film criticism of any kind, there are always natural preconceptions, biases, or suppositions on the reviewer’s part. This statement is a truism for everyone; no-one is immune from personal preconceptions when assessing subjectively the quality of a film, or book, or other artistic product. Good film criticism should not obscure what those prejudices might be, and should recognise when judgements about quality are being affected by them. The best of film criticism should convey some awareness of what preconceptions exist that might affect the judgement of quality that is being expressed. A judgement of quality is inherently subjective, not objective. However, the criteria for film criticism should be applied as objectively as possible.

Films may deal with positive or negative issues. Films that excel are those that leave one with a very meaningful experience of a better, or different understanding of some aspect of the human condition. A film carries a distorted message if it is inherently prejudicial or projects malice at its core. In talking about the human condition, however, there is enormous scope for the display of human frailty and inconsistency, and many excellent movies are about human weakness. Many outstanding movies also depict a bleak and dark view of human nature, and many illustrate that darkness superbly. A film may be about war, abuse, savagery, unendurable stress, or about the pursuit of happiness, whimsy, or joy. But quality-films ideally should be able to demonstrate an increment in our understanding and appreciation of the meaning of a human, social, or cultural problem or issue in any of these contexts; and the movie’s striving toward resolution should ideally be accompanied by subjective recognition on the reviewer’s part of ways in which his or her experience, and others’ experience, may be affected.

Ultimately, one looks for quality in a film that points the way forward, or provides a deeper meaning, or a message about what one does to avoid not being able to achieve that kind of an advance. In the final analysis, quality movies are always internalised in their effects. If they have impact, they are movies that affect us, arouse our emotions, make us think, and move us forward cognitively and emotionally in some way. It is transparently obvious when the values in a film that lacks quality are displayed falsely, or are projected in a pretentious or superficial way. Values must ring authentically true for the Director, they must be communicated either implicitly or explicitly in the film, and they must be reflected in the acting.

There is a real challenge for a reviewer to define the criteria, when he or she comes out of the cinema, and chooses to describe a film as “magnificent”. It is hard to generalise in this category, but when I use this term (and it is to be used sparingly) I look for taut, intelligent direction, evidence of high energy and expertise in the film’s production and direction, excellent cinematography, and outstanding acting; and such a movie has to aim for effects that are creatively different or distinct in definable ways. Movies at this level of quality must also achieve total integrity and bring their component parts together into an artistic or aesthetic whole. Magnificent films leave you profoundly affected and inspired as a result of seeing them, and they should stand the test of time.

BIOGRAPHY

PETER SHEEHAN graduated from the University of Sydney, Australia, with a PhD in Psychology in 1965. He has been on the staff at many Universities, that include The City University of the City of New York, The University of Queensland (Australia), and the Australian Catholic University. In this last position, he served as the University’s Vice-Chancellor?for ten years from 1998 - 2008.

He has held the office of President of the Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia (1991-1993), and was Deputy Chair and then Chair (1986-1987) of the Australian Cinematographic Films Board of Review. The Films Board of Review is responsible for final determination of the classification of cinema films in Australia, following appeals on censorship ratings.
He was Member of the Australian Broadcasting Tribunal’s National Inquiry into Violence on Television, and has served as a SIGNIS member for the Brisbane International Film Festival's Interfaith Jury, and the Festroia International Film Festival's SIGNIS Jury, Setubal, Portugal. Currently, he is Chair of the Queensland Catholic Education Commission, and Associate of the National Catholic Office for Film and Broadcasting.

JACOB SRAMPICKAL

36 CHOWRINGHEE LANE

India, 1981, director, Aparna Sen.

SHORT REVIEW

36 Chowringhee Lane captures the anguish of the lonely. It is a deeply moving human document as it unravels how today’s younger generation, solely interested in themselves, can make use of old lonely people for their own purposes. The film, set in post-independent Calcutta, studies the case of Anglo-Indians?in India, an isolated group left behind by the British, but the problem it studies, that of taking advantage of helpless people, is universal and touches any one with a conscience. Made by first time director Aparna Sen, a celebrated actress, the film tells the story of Violet Stoneham, an aging teacher of Shakespeare’s plays in an English medium school in Calcutta. As she is demoted to teach grammar, she sees her worthlessness increasing, but she finds herself very useful by lending her home to a young couple to study while she is at the school. But they in fact, were desperately seeking a private place to make love. Later she realizes that their friendship was only for the time being and that they are totally selfish, as they cleverly avoid inviting her to their marriage party after Christmas.

LONG REVIEW

36 Chowringhee Lane is based on actress Aparna Sen’s own story and script. The film tells the story of an ageing and lonely school teacher, Miss Violet Stoneham. She is an Anglo- Indian, a sub-colonial class the British left behind in India. She lives alone in an apartment whose postal address defines the title of the film. After the marriage of her niece, Rosemary, who left for Australia, she lives a lonely life with only a tom cat, named Toby Belch, for company. In school, she shares a somewhat warm friendship with Wendy Mc Gowen and survives the social estrangement from the Bengali ethos and refuses to go away to Australia, although her niece insists that she has nothing to do in India. She has her brother in the old people’s home, whom she visits once in a while.

Much of the film has to do with Stoneham being an Anglo-Indian?per se, as much as it has to do with her sense of marginalization in a soil she has grown up to love as her own. It also has to do with her school teaching vocation, where she finds herself isolated and alienated from the mainstream teaching staff, where Anglo-Indian?teachers are being replaced by Indian substitutes. The subject that she taught to higher classes – Shakespeare – is taken away from her and she is relegated to teaching grammar to lower classes. The loneliness and the isolation of her single life, dotted by occasional nightmares, takes a reverse turn one day. She is thrilled when a former student, Nandita Roy, looks her up and also brings her boyfriend, Samaresh Moitra, to her flat. Samaresh is an author and likes the solitude of Violet's flat, and would like to write his new novel there, to which Violet readily agrees to. He likes her antique record-player and she gives it to him as a gift for their marriage. She hopes she has become part of a family again. It is Christmas time and Violet likes to visit Nandita and Samaresh. But they think she would be a fish out of water and tell her they would be out of station. However, she visits them with a cake she baked and is surprised to see that she is not wanted at the party they had organized. She feels the desperation of loneliness and the emptiness of being made use of.

The film’s strength lies very much in the simplicity of the narration with a couple of flashbacks. Running for 108 minutes, the film captures a whole world, that of the lonely lives of a family of Anglo-Indians?and their love for India, which is rejected by the young generation of Indians who are very much globalized in nature and selfish to the core.
In the final frames as an abandoned and desolate Miss Stoneham sits by the roadside at midnight, with the cake in tow, and a street dog trying to nibble at it, the sound track echoes King Lear’s wail from the hearth “Pray do not mock at me, I am a wretched old man, forlorn and forsaken….” one wonders what crime t this poor woman has done that she is made to suffer such anguish; and conscientious viewers feel the strength of the narrative and its communicative power strongly.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

36 Chowringhee Lane – a tale of people left on the roadside

Aparna Sen’s 36 Chowringhee Lane (1981) is a remarkable first film, that deserves everyone’s attention as it highlights an important aspect of life – loneliness and isolation suffered by elderly people, and how selfish young people take advantage of such desolate people.

Content Analysis

36 Chowringhee Lane is one of a handful of Indian films portraying the life and culture of a fast-dwindling minority community, the Anglo-Indians?. The text is an engrossing study of the cultural 'outsider' – a theme that has received artistic attention all over the world in this age of migration and globalization. In the film, the faint, distant values of a Western civilization, part of the legacy of colonialism in India, are today wrapped up in one significant tradition – the tradition of the English language. Though it focusses on a specific individual’s plight, the theme is universal.

The film very subtly admonishes the selfish and asks them to consider why they make use of other helpless, hapless people for personal interests. The film reflects sharply the ‘use and throw’ mentality sponsored by the consumer culture, where, once the use is over, products are thrown away. Human beings too are considered things in this culture. Loneliness, marginalization and isolation are specific phenomena of the post-modern age and in the process humans, especially the old and the weak ones lose their moorings.

Artistic Merits

1. Script and the narrative structure

Being a Christian story, Christmas-to-Christmas?is chosen as the time frame of the film, which. also acts as a leitmotiv, on may find a Christ image in the main protagonist. Though the actual time-span of the film covers one year, the narrative is telescopic, moving back and forth into the past and the present. At times, past and present fuse together. In the closing shots, the visuals are in the present while the soundtrack – letters written by Stoneham to Rosemary in Australia, are in the past. There are forays into a more remote past in the nightmare scene where Stoneham is a young girl betrothed to another Anglo- Indian, James Mac Kenzie. Her unfulfilled love for the James who died in the war and now in the cemetery, and her eternal virgin life tied to the school children she loves, but do not care for her, her brother who lives in the old people’s home are all that keep her occupied.

Traditions emerge from linguistic foundations, too. One can distinguish a duality in the use of language: the English language as a fake tradition, and the Bengali (or Indian) language, within which lies the actual psychological compulsions of a people. The 'outsider' and the 'insider' are thus joined together within the cultural frame work of language. In terms of speech patterns and language, Stoneham, Rosemary and Mrs.Mc Gowen are 'outsiders.' They speak solely in English, and at times using broken and heavy, English-accented Hindi. Notice they do not speak Bengali, the local language but a broken mainstream Hindi, when they have to. Among themselves, they speak English, the language of the ‘minority’ in Bengal. It is also a 'colonial' language that the majority of 'insiders' do not much care for, except for the likes of Nandita and Samaresh, the neo-colonized.
Besides, the emphasis on minimum dialogue and more visuals to tell an eloquent story is a rare feat in Indian films. The use of Shakesperean allegories in the script like Sir Toby — the cat from Twelfth Night-- King Lear etc add natural touches as she teaches Shakespeare.

Miss Stoneham’s collection of gramophone records of old English songs is an example of her failure to identify with the Indian-Bengali?'insider.' And these attarct Samaresh as he prides in writing poetry in English.

Though she never speaks of it, Miss Stoneham is desperate for companionship and relationship. She was not aware of this desperation, until the couple stepped into her monotonous day-to-day routine. When she discovers them kissing in her apartment, she realizes the true motive of their regular rendezvous, and acknowledges it without comment.

A scene I can’t forget, is where Miss Stoneham visits her brother in the old people’s home. She is frightened by the sight of an old lady climbing up the stairs towards her, as she is about to climb down. The old lady is perfectly harmless but Stoneham is seemingly terrified of anyone who reminds her of old age, disability and death. As the old lady comes closer, her face begins to appear distorted and macabre to Stoneham. With a stifled cry, she rushes past the old lady and disappears around the last bend.
The close-up of the wheels of a slowly moving man-pulled rickshaw, backed up by a sound track of hard iron roughing out against stone is disturbing and so is Stoneham’s life, slow, tiring and eking life out of daily boredom.

2. Acting

Jennifer Kendall, an aging theatre actress who had done bit parts in films was probably the best suited to play Miss Violet Stoneham. The others too especially, Geoffrey Kendall, her real life father, who acts as her brother, were well cast and so they perform to perfection.

3. Photography

Lingering shadows, shades of various colours are permamant motifs, collecting in elements of the fading past, nostalgia.etc. Lingering deep ambers, rusts and browns dominate the environment of Miss Stoneham - her apartment, the home for the aged, to infuse the scenes with signs of a fading present and a nostalgic past, suggesting old age and loneliness. Ashok Mehta’s brilliant and evocative camerawork gives the lines on Miss Stoneham’s face the right dose of light and shade to add a whole range of expressions and dimension to it - when she is sad, when she wakes up in cold sweat from the nightmare, when she is laughing away at the hypocrisy of Nandita’s marriage rituals, etc. The carefully orchestrated nightmare sequence appears like a watercolour painting whose colours have gone away .

4. Music

Soft-driven Victorian music underplaying a reluctant Stoneham, and an occasional vibrant Bengali folk add to interpreting Stoneham’s sense of loneliness. The use of sound-tracks from the distant past to evoke nostalgia about Stoneham’s past works quite well with a film literate audience. Often music has been used suggestively more than just playing a functional role.

5. Sets, Costumes \ Makeup

Carefully created Caluctta streets and winding by-lanes on which Stoneham’s man-pulled rickshaw moves on, strikes one instantly as these are studio creations. Again Stoneham’s bed room givng the finest details surprises one. The interior of Miss Stoneham’s flat spells out the story of its tenant – the upholstery is threadbare, the blackened cooking pans in her tiny kitchenette, that hidden bottle of wine she brings out to celebrate Samaresh’s brand new job, and the gramophone with the old records and the brass horn--all have a story to tell.. The lift which is often out of order, the power cuts that add intensity to a lonely life have been well integrated into the design of the film.
Stoneham’s way of dressing is strictly Victorian, long, loose, frocks that hide her frame more cleverly than an Indian sari would have.

6. Editorial Touches

The film edited to the length of a normal English film is very un-indian and it is in English meant for an high class audience. In fact, it is difficult to find a an India film so tightly edited. Only what is needed is in the film, nothing extravagant. The dim-lit corners of Miss Stoneham’s flat are counter-posed against the brightly lit luxury of Nandita’s plush bungalow. Sen often seeks to truncate a particular shot before it yields a definite interpretation in order to create the non-significant image that transforms itself on contact with other images, creating a rhythm where the image or form acts as a substitute for, rather than the vehicle of thought. The juxtaposing of the flash backs and the silhouetted images to tell a lost era have been cut into perfect sounds and images to narrate the story with ample suspense.

7. Directorial Touches

Sen’s attention to minute details of sound, silence, light, darkness and atmosphere enriches the tapestry of the film and reveals facets of the Stoneham character more eloquently than words could have done. Miss Stoneham’s disciplined, convent-like upbringing is shown through her use of a letter-opener to open letters, the way she pours milk to her cat etc. Fading snapshots of Eddie and Rosemary adorn the side table, suggesting memories of an era lived in joy. Stoneham’s Victorian morals come across when she coyly hides her underwear so Samaresh shouldn’t see them. And her silent acceptance of the couple making love in her apartment without showing any apprehension, although she would have liked to react, shows, she understands young people. Her bargaining with the fishmonger in the market to come away with the cheaper variety is an indication of her meagre financial resources. Sen reveals her growing emotional involvement with the young lovers through a collage of suggestions – she forgets to visit Eddie on a Thursday because she is busy gallivanting around with Nandita and Samaresh. Rosemary’s letter, once pored over with affection, now flies away in the breeze. A drop of ice cream falls on one of her students’ exercise books wiping out the name of the girl on the label.

Sen’s first film as director is clearly, a grammar book film, done to perfection with many copybook styles from master craftsmen world over. The phonograph serves as a motif, reminding one of an age gone by – an age, which was, perhaps one of caring, and of respect for the old and the infirm and one in which the young had a greater sense of relatednes. It suggests a nostalgic yearning for the past. Probably one can argue from a cinematic point of view that its changed positioning in the two settings – in Miss Stoneham’s home and in Nandita’s new bungalow – offers a perception of a changing reality in which the old and the new have become irreconcilable. Sen also uses masterfully photographs in Stoneham’s life pointing to her life lived in memories.

BIOGRAPHY

Jacob Srampickal, SJ, has a doctorate in Development Communication from the University of Leeds, England, and has authored several books including: Understanding Communication (1982), Voice to the Voiceless, Power of People’s Theatre (1994), Babel to Babri Masjid and Beyond (2003), Cross Connections: Interdisciplinary communication studies(2005), Understanding Development Communication (2007) etc. He has reviewed Indian films for 6 years for prominent periodicals in India. President of Unda\OCIC, (now SIGNIS), the international communication association of the Church in India (1992-98) and in Asia (1993-2001), he was the inspiration behind and the co-founder of the National Institute of Social Communications, Research and Training (NISCORT) of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of India in New Delhi, and he is presently the Director of the Communications Programme at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. His areas of interest include: Media-Religion-Culture?, Media Ethics, Development Communication, Media Education, Pastoral Communication.

Sadly, Jacob died, aged 62, in 2012.

PAUL STENHOUSE AUSTRALIA

THE YEAR OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY
Australia, 1982.
Mel Gibson, Linda Hunt, Sigourney Weaver, Bill Kerr, Noel Ferrier, Michael Murphy.
Directed by Peter Weir

SHORT REVIEW

The star of Peter Weir’s The Year of Living Dangerously, filmed in the Philippines and Australia, is Linda Hunt, a stage actress who plays Billy Kwan, an Australian- Chinese photographer who befriends Guy Hamilton (Mel Gibson) a naïve Australian reporter in his first overseas posting. Billy is the common thread of humanity running through a beautifully told but menacing tale of poverty, political power-play and opportunism set in Sukarno’s Indonesia in 1965. He is the link between the main players. His fate symbolises that of Sukarno and the Communists (PKI). Weir’s direction is masterly. Signourney Weaver co-stars, as does Noel Ferrier.

LONG REVIEW

The Year of Living Dangerously (1982) is a very Australian film. The novel on which it is based was written by Christopher Koch, and the screen-play was jointly the work of Koch, Peter Weir, and David Williamson. It was filmed in Australia and in the Philippines, and it featured well-known Australian actors. The action all takes place in Indonesia, Australia’s closest neighbour, with whose independence Australia was much involved after World War II, and with whose people Australia has always felt close.

Indonesia’s human misery and natural beauty, as well as its complex and cosmopolitan political scene centred on the Sukarno regime in 1965, are the backdrop against which Weir’s intriguing version of Indonesian political shadow puppetry is played.

It is usually described as a romantic thriller because young Australian correspondent Guy Hamilton (Mel Gibson) on his first posting overseas becomes infatuated with Jill Bryant (Sigourney Weaver) who works in the British Embassy in Jakarta. It is that, and much more.

The sense of brooding menace that Weir visually creates – many scenes are shot in near darkness – is reflected in the obstacles one still encounters in attempting to discover what really happened in Indonesia in October 1965. One wishes that for all his infuriating ambiguity of character Guy Hamilton was still around, prone to risk-taking as ever, and not willing to let a good story go untold.

When Guy arrives he is befriended by Billy Kwan (Linda Hunt who won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her performance), a part-Chinese photographer who is a dwarf, playing Everyman in this Mystery Play about the Good, the Confused, and the Evil. Billy seems to hold most of the cards – knowing (and having a file on) most of the major players in the cast, including the head of the Communist Party (PKI), highly placed Army officers, and members of the Foreign Correspondents Club as well as the Diplomatic Corps.

Of all the ‘expats’ it is Billy who gives the lie to the comment made to Hamilton by his assistant Kumar (Bembol Rocco) who was PKI: ‘Westerners don’t have answers anymore’. Because of Billy, Guy may have learnt something not many of his fellow foreign-correspondents seemed to understand: ‘they are also responsible who are indifferent as people die, and carefully take photographs or file reports’. Scenes of executions as Guy was heading for the airport and safety were a sombre reminder of the untold thousands who were massacred at the end of The Year of Living Dangerously.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING
 
It is refreshing to be asked for ‘the criteria you use’ in judging a movie. No one doubts that protocols, principles, criteria and laws must be followed in maths and science, but these days one is more likely to hear something like, ‘Hey, man! What have rules and criteria got to do with the “Arts”?’

Criteria are standards, rules, principles, laws of a kind and protocols according to which we measure or evaluate whatever it is we are judging. So our indignant 21st century protester is not wrong in thinking that appealing to them poses some threat to random, whim-filled, ‘value-free’ artistic expression. Whether or not critics or those in the industry, are comfortable with this, critics are evaluators, weighers, measurers. And usually, to be fair to the reader who – if wise – is going to have to evaluate the evaluation, critics should give some indication of the measure they are using. And why.

It is stating the obvious to say that criticism – whether of film, art, music or literature – in our relativistic society, is a hazardous occupation. Critics themselves come in for a lot of criticism. Much of it personal and rarely objective.

Critics can flounder about in a relativistic world of art and culture, where we are conscious of almost drowning along with our – often subjective – standards in the political correctness of mercurial artistic ‘values’. We find ourselves bedazzled by the multiplicity of angles from which we can judge a work.

Before coming to criteria, at least three areas principally interest this critic:
1. Technique: Whatever else one may say, the majority of main-stream films these days is competently made. High quality professional movie-making techniques, with all their technical subtleties and infinitesimal variations, are a ‘given’. It is usually a question of a Director’s doing ‘better,’ of pushing expertise beyond limits, than of doing merely ‘well’. Most directors have no excuse for poor lighting, camera-work, sets or special effects – because skilled technicians who can supply these are readily available: provided you have the money.

2. The viewer has a right to know what the Director intends the film to be and say. A youngish female TV producer was being interviewed on radio not long ago and the interviewer commented that the programmes she produced bore out the adage that ‘art reflects life’. ‘Not at all,’ she retorted, ‘I make them because I want life to reflect my art’.

What the movie appears to be saying about politics, religion, individuals, values, morality, is probably what it is saying; and what the Director wants the viewer to believe and take away from the screening. Films are seldom just entertainment. They can be propaganda tools, social engineering devices and marketing exercises. International and domestic political and economic power brokers and lobby groups all take a keen interest in the medium. Not all religious or social groups that employ film as a promotional vehicle, are benign.

3. The effect on the viewer. This follows from 2. Not all viewers are mature. Not all are well-educated, with well-honed critical faculties that will protect them from assaults on their minds and beliefs. If movies had no effect on viewers, they would not be made, though the contrary is still asserted by some child-psychologists. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, commenting on lending libraries, begs to differ. His words apply also and especially to modern cinema and the internet:

‘Madam, a circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge: it blossoms throughout the year, and depend upon it … they who are so fond of handling the leaves will long for the fruit at last.’1

There are pharmaceutical standards, and standards for storing and preparing food. Testing how healthy or toxic the cinema ‘fruit’ is can be an onerous task.

As the writer is a Catholic priest, he cheerfully declares this up front. St Augustine tells us that ‘faith has eyes’2; and St Paul tells us that ‘reason’ too ‘has eyes’3. Bearing that in mind, when I see a film, whether for review, or simply for enlightenment or entertainment, I take my three sets of eyes along to the screening, and compare their findings.

Each of these separate ‘senses’ has criteria special to itself which enable an overall evaluation to be made that should be fair, reasonable, and above all open and honest about the work that is being evaluated. Faith measures the movie against criteria described in detail by St Paul in Galatians 5,22. Reason seeks truth, intelligibility and logic in the movie, especially in what it claims to be and do, and what it actually is and does. The human eye looks for the aesthetically satisfying, and judges the skill and cunning with which the movie achieves its aim. The evaluations of all three ‘eyes’ are harmonised so that a balanced critique can be given. No one expects a non-believing or irreligious Director to satisfy the demands of faith, though if these are not met, the reader has a right to know. Reason, however, can make legitimate demands upon the Director; as can aesthetics.

Movie-making technology is progressing so fast that film is relying less on skilled actors to get across its message. Digitalised, computer-generated characters and special effects, abound. We are witnessing the merging and mutation of visual media: film, internet and computer. Electronic games, and hand-held computers with access to the internet have invaded homes and class-rooms. The demise of movie studios is not inconceivable – with the consequent spectre of low-budget and potentially poor quality ‘films’ distributed over the internet with almost limitless access to world markets. In this situation humanity will have even greater need of informed and courageous critics of the visual media who will put their skills at the disposal of the community, and point the way forward for an artistic medium whose potential for good remains largely untapped.

1 Richard Brinsley Sheridan, The Rivals1775.
2 Epistola cxx Migne PL vol.xxxiii col.456, 8: ‘Habet namque fides oculos suos’.
3 Ephesians 1,18: ‘the eyes of your understanding’.

BIOGRAPHY

Paul Stenhouse is a Catholic priest-journalist, belonging to the Congregation of the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart of Issoudun, France. His doctoral thesis presented to Sydney University was a critical edition of the Kitab al-Tarikh by the 14th century Samaritan priest Abu ‘l-Fath. A foundation member, and a member of the Council of the Société d’Études Samaritaines within the College de France, and a member of the New York Academy of Sciences, he has delivered papers at Colloquia organised by the Société in Paris, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, Oxford, Venice, Helsinki and Budapest. He is the author of numerous monographs on Middle Arabic Grammar, and various aspects of Samaritan and Falasha history, chronology and religion. He is editor of Annals Australasia, and a Fellow of St John’s College, Sydney University.

MARJORIE SUCHOCKI

BABEL

2006, Director, Aleyandro Inarritu.
Cannes, 2006, Ecumenical Prize.

SHORT REVIEW

Babel draws us into multinational and multiracial stories in Morocco, Japan, the United States, and Mexico. As the apparently separate stories unfold, connections between them reveal the intensely interwoven web of our contemporary world. A random act in one place affects events in another; these, in turn, have further repercussions, which likewise yield effects, ad infinitum. “Babel” refers to the confusion of languages in Genesis 9; the cumulative problems within the film’s stories are each intensified by barriers to communication—national, cultural, and interpersonal. Resolutions come only by breaking through the barriers, touching one another through multiple forms of communication.

LONG REVIEW

Babel draws us into multinational and multiracial stories in Morocco, Japan, the United States, and Mexico. Echoing the biblical story of the confusion of languages at Babel, the film relentlessly takes us into the small and great tragedies that follow upon our inability to communicate with one another. As four separate stories unfold, connections between them reveal the interwoven web of our contemporary world.

In a random act in rural Morocco, a boy plays target practice with a gun intended for protecting sheep. He hits a tour bus, seriously wounding an American woman, delaying her return with her husband to America. The couple had taken the trip in an effort to save their troubled marriage. They call America to ask the Mexican-born caretaker to stay with their children longer—but the Mexican woman’s son is being married in Mexico. Unable to find a substitute to care for the children, she takes them with her. Upon attempting to return, problems arise.

A fourth story set in Japan interweaves its way into the complications raised through the first three, although the film does not give the connection until late in the film. A troubled girl longs for connection, seeking it through risky behaviors. Slowly we learn that her mother committed suicide. The police have come to the apartment with a question for the girl’s father.

The film’s central theme of communication and its failure is particularly embodied in the Japanese teen-ager, who is deaf. But there are many forms of deafness: the American tourists must trust villagers whom they cannot understand for first aid—nor do the villagers trust the Americans. The shooting sets off an international incident, escalating tensions between Morocco and the United States; neither government trusts or understands the other. Moroccan police disbelieve the man who sold the gun to the boy’s father. In Mexico the children are frightened and fascinated by wedding customs they do not understand. At the American/Mexican border, the U.S. police refuse to accept the woman’s story. And in Japan, the teenager’s need for connection meets rebuffs, until resolution comes.

And resolutions do come, but they cannot undo all the damage that comes from failure to understand one another. By using the Biblical story of the confusion of tongues as its central metaphor, the film seems to seek resolution through the story of Pentecost, where differences of language remain, but communication and understanding are possible.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

I am a theologian who has spent much of my professional career probing the problem of evil. My interests have not been those of theodicy, which seeks to reconcile the goodness of God with a creation containing much unnecessary evil. Rather, my focus has been the question of evil itself—what is it? Why do we do it? What forms of resolution exist? I have written a number of books dealing with these topics.

Perhaps it’s not surprising, then, that in my work with film I am deeply interested in how the director poses the problematic aspects of human existence. Evil is a hydra-headed monster with many faces, some intense and others banal; some raw and open, others minor and heavily interwoven with good. In exploring our humanity through film, the director unveils some of these faces, showing us ourselves in all our complexity. Usually the director will offer some form of resolution to the particular problem he or she has probed. Are there elements of transcendent goodness in this resolution? Using the central Christian metaphor of crucifixion/resurrection, has good been able to arise out of evil? Or is it the case that there is no resolution within the film? Throughout, of course, I am interested in the dialogue between theology and film. In some ways, there are parallels between what a theologian seeks to do through words, and what a director seeks to do through camera, lighting, sets, and dramatic action. Both are exploring the human condition, setting out its problems, suggesting resolutions. Through the power of art, film can inform theology. Thus in my book, Sin and Cinema: Violence and Resolution in Film and Theology, I study film for theological insight.

But writing reviews of films is not at all the same as writing theology about films. Most of my reviews are written for a small quarterly journal, Creative Transformation, whose circulation is primarily among clergy and laity within the progressive Protestant tradition. The journal is published by an organization called Process & Faith, which is itself a program of the Center for Process Studies located at Claremont School of Theology in Claremont, California. The purpose of the Center, and therefore the journal, is to promote relational ways of thinking and living in our interdependent world.

Readers of Creative Transformation would be particularly interested in a film like Babel because it highlights our interdependence, calling for communication and understanding. But they would also want to know if forms of creative transformation occur, so writing about the film for these readers must give attention to the renewals of relationship within the film. The film’s realism must also be reckoned with: not all the evils we inflict upon one another are easily overcome; some damage is permanent. What, then, is the response of faith? The role of the reader, the viewer, and the reviewer, is to lift the questions, and seek to become part of the answers through compassionate living.

BIOGRAPHY

Marjorie Hewitt Suchocki (born 1933) is an author and United Methodist professor emerita of theology at Claremont School of Theology. She is also co-director of the Center for Process Studies at Claremont.

Suchocki earned a BA in Philosophy from Pomona College in 1970, and both MA and PhD in religion from Claremont Graduate School in 1974. She taught at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary from 1977 to 1983. From 1983 to 1990 she was professor of systematic theology and dean of Wesley Theological Seminary. In 1990 Suchocki returned to Claremont School of Theology, where she held the endowed Ingraham chair in theology and joint appointment at the Claremont Graduate School until her retirement in 2002. She has held visiting professorships at Vanderbilt University in 1996 and 1999, and at the Ruprecht Karl University of Heidelberg in Heidelberg, Germany in 1992.

Since 2001 Suchocki has been director of the Whitehead International Film Festival. She is considered along with John B. Cobb and David Ray Griffin as one of the leaders in the field of process theology.

DAVID TLAPEK

IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH

Director, Paul Haggis, 2007.
SIGNIS Prize, Venice, 2007.

SHORT REVIEW

Were writer/director Paul Haggis’ In the Valley of Elah merely an indictment of U.S. Iraq policy, it could be regarded as petty and arrogant. As an illustration of the irrational, hellish realities of war, and the moral conundrum war generates, Haggis’ film is effective and affecting. Technically sound, with a first-rate cast and well-constructed narrative, the film unfolds at a gentle pace, generates occasional moments of suspense and maintains strong emotional cadence throughout. Intense violence is readily implied, yet judiciously presented on screen. Challenging subject matter well depicted, quality viewing, worthy of discussion and reflection.

LONG REVIEW

Few targets are more easily decried than an unpopular war, especially when that war is still being waged. Were writer/director Paul Haggis’ In the Valley of Elah merely an indictment of U.S. policy in Iraq, it could be regarded as petty and arrogant. As a broader illustration of the irrational, hellish realities of war, and the moral conundrum war generates, Haggis’ film is challenging, affecting, and worthy of discussion and reflection.

Excepting a lethargic yet forgivable musical score, technical credentials are solid. The editing is smart and crisp, with hardly a misstep. The narrative unfolds at a gentle pace, generates occasional moments of suspense and carries emotional cadence throughout.

The intriguing title derives from the story of David and Goliath, Elah having been the valley in which the two waged their brief, decisive confrontation. In that story, of course, David emerges victorious. In Haggis’ film the outcome of one man’s confrontation with the ‘Goliath’ of military bureaucracy is less satisfactory. Tommy Lee Jones portrays that one man, a military retiree, searching for his son. The son, also a soldier (part of the family pedigree), recently returned from active duty in Iraq and inexplicably went missing. Charlize Theron portrays a police detective who befriends the protagonist and aids his inquiry; and the two of them develop a mutual fondness born of mutual respect.

The cast is top notch all around, while Jones’ brilliant performance is the film’s emotional and thematic touchstone, its grounding mechanism. Through his character we see how long held perceptions and priorities can be jolted from synchrony, how that which we hold dear can be consumed by dark forces we thought we understood and could contain.

The film’s narrative bookends are two scenes that depict the raising of an American flag. In the beginning, Jones’ character instructs a Salvadoran immigrant on the proper way to raise the flag, while stressing the flag’s symbolic significance. At film’s end his character hoists a different American flag, this one tattered and faded, up the same flagpole, with the same immigrant standing by; though the latter scene feels predictable and obligatory, it illustrates the protagonist’s personal anguish, his losing faith in a belief system that had informed so much of his life. The outcome of his battle with ‘Goliath’ is not victorious or decisive; rather it leaves him to wander and wonder in a world that suddenly makes less sense, if it makes sense at all.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

My approach to reviewing a film is taken in prioritized steps. I consider the film’s soundness of craftsmanship, how well is it executed in the technical and artistic craft elements? If it doesn’t pass this test, then I may still explore other elements such as theme and narrative; but the film will not get my hearty recommendation, nor would I consider it worthy of awards of merit. I look to the film’s narrative. Does it present a story worth telling, and does it tell that story well? Is the narrative well constructed, cohesive and effectively realized on the screen? I consider the film’s thematic, the underlying message that grounds everything else. How well is that thematic considered and presented, and to what effect? Depending on the audience for whom I’m writing, I may also consider how the film’s thematic underpinning interacts with my journey of faith and moral priorities. Finally, I may consider the film’s level of integrity in binding its narrative and thematic underpinning. Examining this integrity and integration is, I believe, a higher level of criticism, highly contextual, and more taxing for a reviewer to accomplish.

I do not typically approach film reviewing by way of some overarching theory of criticism, and do so only to the extent that, again, I may feel invited to because of the audience for whom I am writing. An example would stem from my participation on the SIGNIS jury at the 2006 Berlinale and our awarding of honors to three films in various festival competitions. Subsequent to the festival, I wrote an article, which included mini-reviews of the films we had designated as SIGNIS awardees. Since I wrote my article to be published by SIGNIS, my mini-reviews considered the films in light of the SIGNIS criteria that we had utilized during the festival. Maintaining such consistency seemed appropriate, so I followed that path. In a different circumstance, I may well have reviewed the films from a slightly different perspective, focusing on different thematic and filmic craft elements and less on the criteria that I had here employed.

BIOGRAPHY

David Tlapek wrote, produced and directed "Divining the Human," an award-winning documentary about the artwork created for the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in downtown Los Angeles. David's previous documentary film, "The Hidden Gift: War and Faith in Sudan," was influential in the movement toward a peace settlement in Sudan's civil war and has been an effective fund-raising tool for relief efforts in Sudan. David has taught at numerous venues, including Loyola Marymount University and the Religious Education Congress in Anaheim, California. He served on the Executive Committee of the City of the Angels Film Festival and on the Board of Directors of Catholics in Media Associates; and he was a member of the Ecumenical Jury at the 2006 Berlin International Film Festival. David currently lives and works as a writer/filmmaker in London, England.

MARCO VANELLI

IL TETTO/ THE ROOF

Italy, 1956, Directed by Vittorio de Sica.

Cannes, OCIC Prize, 1956.

SHORT REVIEW

Il tetto è un bellissimo film che ha avuto poca fortuna. Con la sua leggerezza tipica, De Sica mostra un nuovo capitolo del vangelo incarnato nel mondo d’oggi, dove il Cristo assume il volto di due giovani sposi poveri in cerca di un tetto sotto il quale formare una famiglia. L’ Italia intorno non è più quella del dopoguerra: nuovi palazzi sorgono ovunque e il “miracolo economico” si fa strada. Ma i due protagonisti vivono un sogno diverso, che alla fine si realizzerà perché la loro casa abusiva verrà costruita sulla roccia dell’amore e della solidarietà e non sulla sabbia della corsa alla facile ricchezza che sta contagiando la nazione.

LONG REVIEW

Il tetto è uno dei capolavori meno conosciuti di Vittorio De Sica. Eppure si tratta di un’opera a cui il regista teneva molto, l’ultima della grande stagione del Neorealismo, prima che prevalessero in lui le logiche produttive e professionali rispetto alle esigenze poetiche e artistiche. Il tetto non piacque né al pubblico né ai critici. Unica eccezione nel disinteresse generale fu il premio Ocic assegnato nel 1956 a Cannes, ampiamente segnalato nei manifesti sperando, forse, di smuovere gli spettatori delle sale cattoliche.
Il racconto inizia con una bandiera italiana che sventola sul tetto di una casa in costruzione. Si tratta di un’usanza tipicamente nostrana: quando i muratori terminano un’abitazione, mettono la bandiera sul tetto come segnale di augurio per la nuova casa. L’ultima immagine mostra invece un altro tetto, questa volta non terminato, fatto abusivamente, di notte, per evitare il controllo dei poliziotti. Un raggio di sole lo attraversa: è un segno di speranza e di solidarietà.

In mezzo tra queste due inquadrature sta la storia di Natale e Luisa, due giovani sposi che vorrebbero vivere in una casa tutta per loro. Ma sono poveri, e nonostante che l’Italia attorno si stia trasformando grazie al “boom economico”, i due non hanno le possibilità per partecipare a questo benessere diffuso. La cinepresa li segue, nel loro peregrinare da un luogo all’altro, come in un Calvario aggiornato, secondo la sensibilità di tutta la scuola neorealista che vedeva nell’uomo disperato del secondo dopoguerra un’icona del Servo Sofferente. Troppo spesso di quei film furono fatte letture esclusivamente sociologiche e politiche; c’era invece un sottofondo profondamente religioso che si rivela a chi sa guardare le immagini nitide e realiste con un occhio che penetri oltre l’apparenza e sa riconoscere il paradigma cristiano con cui gli autori neorealisti leggevano il loro tempo.

A differenza dei ragazzini di Sciuscià, del disoccupato di Ladri di biciclette, dei baraccati di Miracolo a Milano o del vecchio pensionato di Umberto D. (tutti film che in qualche modo De Sica rievoca nel Tetto), Natale e Luisa non saranno sconfitti dalla storia e dalle istituzioni. Anzi, sarà proprio l’umanità di uno dei poliziotti a permettere ai due sposi di vivere nella baracca che hanno costruito in una notte. Segno che l’Italia che si avvia a diventare una potenza economica mondiale (la prima immagine), possiede ancora un cuore solidale per gli ultimi (l’ultima). Rispetto alle passioni mostrate nei film precedenti che terminavano con la crocifissione, in questo caso possiamo scorgere un accenno di risurrezione.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Quando devo scrivere un articolo non seguo sempre lo stesso procedimento. Prima di tutto devo aver visto il film di cui parlo più e più volte, in modo da non basarmi su un’impressione, ma abbia riconosciuto la struttura narrativa su cui poggia e mi sia lasciato penetrare dai valori estetici e tematici che contiene.

Certo non è la stessa cosa scrivere un saggio per un volume o una recensione occasionale (ma il secondo tipo di intervento è sempre meno frequente nel mio lavoro), come è ben diverso occuparsi di un classico della storia del cinema o di una prima visione destinata a non lasciare il segno (e anche qui il mio interesse è concentrato soprattutto sulle opere del passato). In ogni caso, che si tratti di scrivere dieci pagine sull’ultimo Batman o cento parole su Citizen Kane, devo aver chiaro dentro di me l’impianto semiologico del film, il tipo di uso che l’autore (chiunque corrisponda a questa definizione: regista, produttore, macchina realizzativa...) fa del linguaggio filmico per veicolare dei pensieri o dei sentimenti. Ho scritto “sentimenti” e non “emozioni”, come in genere si usa, in quanto del cinema che emoziona non mi importa assolutamente nulla. Non voglio perdere tempo, cioè, con quei film che svaniscono come neve al sole non appena sono uscito di sala. Mi interessano, invece, i film che riescono a penetrare nel mio mondo valoriale, confermandolo o mettendolo in discussione, e che mi restano nella mente qualche volta anche per tutta la vita (ecco i casi in cui si può parlare di sentimento!). Mi accade, ad esempio, con le opere del Neorealismo, che per lo più raggiungono dei tali livelli di poesia e di amore per i personaggi che, per me, si tratta non tanto di visione, quanto di contemplazione.

È un cinema di uomini che si rivolge agli uomini nella loro integrità di persone (e non al loro portafoglio di consumatori), che riesce, magari inconsapevolmente, a rivelare degli aspetti profondi dell’essere al punto che, come cristiano, posso dire che spesso il cinema mi aiuta a convertirmi.

Detto questo, quando mi metto a scrivere, cerco di comunicare a chi mi leggerà quale tipo di percorso ha fatto in me il film in questione: se è rimasto, cioè, a un livello epidermico; se è riuscito a penetrare almeno il livello del pensiero razionale, suscitando in me una qualche reazione; o se si è addentrato fino a toccare le corde del mio cuore durevolmente. Come è accaduto con Il tetto di Vittorio De Sica.
Credo in un cinema umanista che aiuti a vivere e comprendere. Quando lo scopro, mi sforzo di farlo conoscere agli altri.

BIOGRAPHY

Marco Vanelli è nato a Lucca (Italia) nel 1963. Si è laureato prima in lettere poi in cinema, ma i suoi primi studi nell’ambito del linguaggio massmediale li ha fatti col gesuita p. Nazareno Taddei s.j., uno dei maggiori teorici italiani in questo campo. Al momento è vicepresidente del Cinit- Cineforum Italiano, una delle associazioni di cultura cinematografica riconosciute dal Ministero. Dirige la rivista “Ciemme”, dedicata alla storia e al linguaggio del cinema. Da anni sta lavorando alla ricerca di materiali relativi all’esperienza produttiva cattolica Orbis- Universalia, attiva nel secondo dopoguerra, per la quale collaborarono personaggi del calibro di Cesare Zavattini, Alessandro Blasetti, Vittorio De Sica, Luchino Visconti e Diego Fabbri. Tra le varie scoperte fatte, ha ritrovato un cortometraggio catechistico del 1945, Chi è Dio?, ritenuto perduto, scritto da Zavattini e Fabbri assieme a Mario Soldati che lo ha anche diretto. Il breve film, assieme a Roma città aperta, è la prima testimonianza di Neorealismo in Italia.

Collabora con varie riviste di carattere didattico e ha scritto diversi contributi di storia del cinema italiano, soprattutto inerenti il rapporto con la chiesa cattolica e i temi di carattere religioso. Attualmente sta lavorando sulle carte dell’archivio personale di Diego Fabbri. Insegna italiano in una scuola media e collabora con la cattedra di Cinema Italiano dell’Università di Pisa.

MAGALI VAN REETH

WELCOME

de Philippe Lioret France, 1h55, 2007.
Prix œcuménique à Berlinale 2009, section Panorama. Avec Vincent Lindon, Firat Ayverdi, Audrey Dana.

SHORT REVIEW

Maniant avec un grand talent les exigences du cinéma militant et celui du grand public, Philippe Lioret offre aux spectateurs un film touchant et grave sans sombrer dans le désespoir. A Calais, où échouent dans une zone de non-droit des milliers de clandestins à la recherche d'une vie meilleure, un maître-nageur noyé dans ses propres chagrins et désillusions, rencontre un jeune Kurde qui veut apprendre à nager pour traverser la Manche et aller rejoindre la femme qu'il aime. Une rencontre émouvante qui permet de dénoncer une situation politique, avec deux grands acteurs et une belle mise en scène. Prix œcuménique à Berlin en 2009.

LONG REVIEW

C'est à la piscine municipale de Calais qu'a lieu la rencontre des deux personnages principaux du film. Un maître nageur un peu las, dans son corps et dans son cœur, tente vainement de dissoudre son chagrin dans l'eau aseptisée. Les gestes mécaniques que Simon enseigne à longueur de bassin et de journée lui permettent de continuer à avancer la tête sous l'eau, sans rien voir d'autre que sa douleur. C'est dans cet univers clos et saturé qu'il croise un très jeune homme. Bilal, venu du bout du monde dans des conditions épouvantables, a gardé intactes son énergie et ses illusions. Il veut juste apprendre à nager pour traverser la Manche et rejoindre sa belle en Angleterre. Deux histoires d'amour différentes, deux hommes différents, deux mondes différents, Welcome tisse sa toile entre l'intime et l'actualité.

Parce que le film se déroule à Calais, la situation vécue par les clandestins est aussi au centre du film. Venus d'Afrique et d'Asie, des milliers de personnes, de plus en jeunes, échouent dans "la jungle", cette zone particulière à proximité du port de Calais où les clandestins se réfugient en attendant un hypothétique passage vers l'Angleterre. Depuis la fermeture du camp de Sangate en 2002 par Nicolas Sarkozy, alors ministre de l'Intérieur, il n'y a plus de structures pour accueillir ces immigrants. Les personnes qui les nourrissent ou les accueillent par pure compassion, sont aussi dans l'illégalité. Dans des conditions extrêmement précaires, aggravées par les violences policières d'un état qui refuse que des bénévoles s'occupent d'eux, les immigrants risquent chaque jour leur vie pour tenter un passage en Angleterre. C'est cette histoire aussi que Philippe Lioret voulait raconter, en l'ancrant dans une fiction.

Réalisé avec soin, Welcome réconcilie les cinéphiles avertis et le grand public. C'est du grand cinéma, avec des acteurs excellents, que ce soit Vincent Lindon, tout en retenu et souffrance, ou le jeune acteur Firat Ayverdi, dont l'innocence et l'énergie douce illuminent l'écran. L'exigence du réalisateur permet de dénoncer une situation politique contemporaine sans pour autant déprimer les spectateurs : le film porte en lui une espérance de fraternité. A la Berlinale 2009, le festival du film de Berlin, le Jury œcuménique a primé Welcome dans la section Panorama, soulignant le travail du réalisateur qui "arrive à mettre en évidence de façon convaincante comment le chemin vers l’amour entre deux personnes passe par un engagement pour les autres".

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

Je choisis un film dans les sorties de la semaine : il faut défendre le cinéma contemporain, pour ce que les artistes nous disent du monde d'aujourd'hui. Le cinéma commercial n'ayant pas besoin de soutien, je choisis généralement un film moins médiatisé dont les valeurs artistiques sont évidentes. Comme j'ai la chance de vivre dans un pays où les sorties sont très nombreuses, j'écris plutôt sur les films que j'aime et je ne parle pas de ceux qui sont médiocres ou dont je n'aime pas la problématique.

Je fais attention à ne pas raconter le film car je suis de ces cinéphiles qui adorent l'effet de surprise au cinéma. Je m'applique plutôt à donner à ceux qui me lisent l'envie d'aller voir le film. Je fais aussi attention à ne pas citer d'autres réalisateurs ou d'autres films car je sais que ces chroniques peuvent être lues par quelqu'un qui ne va jamais au cinéma ou qui n'a pas ou peu de références dans ce domaine.

Je souligne ce qui, en tant que croyante, me permet de nourrir ma foi et ma connaissance du monde dans lequel je vis : la beauté des images, la dénonciation d'une injustice, l'espérance, ou les problématiques de réconciliation, de pardon ou de solidarité.

Enfin, j'essaye de parler simplement de la technique du film : mise en scène, direction d'acteurs, innovation, parti pris, rythme. Lorsque le film a eu un prix œcuménique ou Signis, je le signale.

BIOGRAPHY

Magali Van Reeth (France) est née en 1956 au Congo. Journaliste de cinéma pour de nombreux sites Internet de l'Eglise catholique de France et pour un réseau de sites paroissiaux, elle a travaille aussi dans d'autres médias (presse écrite, radio, télévision). Elle a été jurée dans plusieurs festivals (notamment Karlovy Vary, Berlin, Locarno, Amiens, Toulouse). Membre de la Fipresci et membre du bureau de l'Union des journalistes de cinéma (France) depuis 2000. Secrétaire générale de SIGNIS France depuis 2006.

KAREN MERCED WILNER US

THE CHOSEN

US, 1981,
Directed by Jeremy Paul Kagan

SHORT REVIEW

Within the context of 1940s American Jewish life, The Chosen examines complex intra-Jewish issues through the friendship of two teen-aged boys, one assimilated and one Hassidic, and their surprising connections to each other’s fathers. The Chosen reveals conflicts familiar to believers of all creeds struggling to achieve a balance between engaging the world and remaining faithful.

The Chosen has been called, “One of the most profoundly Jewish films ever made...” Even so, when I screened it for a class composed primarily of Hispanics, people who had for the most part never met a Jew, they found intense common ground through the film’s broader themes of family and duty.

LONG REVIEW

In her book The Fifty Greatest Jewish Films, Kathryn Bernheimer names The Chosen as number one on her list, calling it “One of the most profoundly Jewish films ever made...” Yet, when I screened The Chosen for an Adult Education class composed primarily of Hispanics, everyone in attendance was deeply moved and several students borrowed the DVD to view at home with their families. Within the specifics of Jewish life, Jewish issues, and Jewish religious practice, a classroom of people who had for the most part never even met a Jewish person found intense common ground through the film’s broader context of family and duty. This is the special magic that motion pictures bring to us as an art.

Taking place in 1940s Brooklyn, The Chosen examines complex intra-Jewish issues through the friendship of two teen-aged boys (Reuven, who is assimilated, and Danny, who is Hassidic), and their surprising connections to each other’s fathers. The Chosen reveals familiar conflicts experienced by believers of all creeds struggling to achieve a balance between engaging the world and remaining faithful.

The heart of The Chosen lies in the intertwined dynamics between Reuven, Danny, Reuven’s politically active, scholarly and comparatively secular father, and Danny’s father who is an Orthodox Rabbi. The boys, though tenderly devoted to their own parent, are strongly drawn to each other’s father, and Reuven plays a significant, poignant role in the healing of Rabbi Saunders’ relationship with Danny. Robbie Benson as Danny Saunders, Barry Miller as Reuven Malter, Rod Steiger as Rabbi Saunders and Maximilian Schell as Professor Malter all deliver authentic, compelling performances.

As an examination of the variety of Jewish life in America, The Chosen opens a large and illuminating window into the schism between religious and secular Jews, the identity issues within assimilation, and the little-discussed yet passionate debate over the formation of Israel (Orthodox communities believed that Israel could not be authentically reestablished before the arrival of the Messiah).
As an exposition of the difficult choices facing all religious, The Chosen confronts significant, still relevant questions about the extent to which we can be in the world and yet not become of the world; about the contradictory principles of tradition and change; about how we best serve our faiths; about who we may associate with and even what we may look upon. The film invites discussion and reflection.

Few pictures display higher values, deeper sensitivities, or richer characterizations than The Chosen.

CRITERIA FOR FILM REVIEWING

I am more of an essayist than a “reviewer.” For me, as a writer and as an educator, film appreciation is as much an anthropological and spiritual pursuit as an artistic one.

Motion pictures are astoundingly revelatory. They speak to us of the times in which they were created, and they reveal truths about us, as an audience, through our modern responses and interpretations. Film reveals culture, high and pop; politics, obvious and codified; zeitgeist, literal and Freudian; Faith, devout and skeptical.

As a community college instructor, I am constrained to discuss film in a strictly secular way. When lecturing to or writing for my students, I emphasize the anthropological concerns cited above and also strive to illuminate the visual narrative tools – color, lighting, camera angle and movement , symbolic entities such as mirrors, knives, water and other natural elements.

When interpreting cinema from a spiritual perspective, I find it particularly freeing to be able to delve even deeper in the subtext to discover the divine. The most humanistic of filmmakers is often the carrier of the most profoundly spiritual underpinnings. Those unanswered questions about belief and justice posed by staunchly atheist Woody Allen in Crimes and Misdemeanors invite us to religious debate, mediation and self-examination as deep and grounded in faith as those ruminations on conscience and redemption presented in The Mission. In viewing The Pawnbroker, one’s interpretation of the ending can rely heavily on the interpretation of the symbolism in the film’s last scenes, and that can vary markedly depending on whether one is interpreting from the perspective of the Old Testament or the New.

Such are the considerations I strive to bring to my essays: not only what the artists intend, but what the audience brings to the film; how a film’s perceived meaning can change as politics and traditions change; how movies provide windows into times, people, and places we never might have known while simultaneously providing mirrors to reveal ourselves to ourselves; and, finally, how to recognize the scriptural and other spiritual parallels that can spur our faith as we appreciate great films.

BIOGRAPHY

Karen Merced WILLNER is a US American educator, lecturer and writer specializing in the area of motion picture analysis and interpretation. She possesses extensive experience presenting to Orange County California religious, private, and educational institutions including the Roman Catholic Diocese, Temple Judea, Laguna Woods Human Relations Commission, and Saddleback Community College, where she has taught “Film as Literature” for 10 years.

Karen is lecturer/discussion leader for the 1000+ member Film Club at Laguna Woods Village, and in 2007 was moderator for the monthly film and discussion series presented at Bowers Cultural History Museum in Santa Ana, California. She is a member of the Catholic Academy (USA SIGNIS Affiliate) and a graduate of the University of San Francisco, a Catholic University in Northern California.

CATHERINE WONG Hong Kong

SHOWER/ XI ZAO

China, 1999.
Director: ZHANG Yang

OCIC Award, San Sebastian Film Festival 1999

SHORT REVIEW

In China and Japan, it is very popular for people to go to bathhouse to enjoy a hot bath. In fact, bathhouse acts as a socializing space for families and friends, for relaxation, gossips and chitchat. ZHANG Yang’s Shower raised the curtain by introducing a bathhouse in a small community in Beijing, run by father and sons. This extraordinary bathhouse ties the family up, washes down conflicts and gaps between two generations. Through the joys and arguments of the protagonists, the film shows the true meaning of family as well as the challenges and impacts on traditions that are brought by rapid societal developments.

LONG REVIEW

A Bathhouse is commonly found in China and Japan as not every household has a bathtub. Thus, it is very popular for people to go to bathhouses to enjoy a hot bath. In fact, bathhouse acts as a socializing space for families and friends, for relaxation, gossips and chitchat.

ZHANG Yang's Shower raised the curtain by introducing a bathhouse in a small community, run by father and sons. This extraordinary bathhouse ties the family up, washes down conflicts and gaps between two generations. Through the joys and arguments of the protagonists, the film presents the true meaning of family as well as the challenges and impacts on traditions that are brought by rapid societal developments.

Master Liu almost devotes his whole life to the family’s bathhouse in the suburbs of Beijing. His eldest son (Da Ming) refused to inherit it, left his hometown for years and works in the city for greater prosperity. One day, Da Ming comes back as he misunderstood that his father has died. Knowing that it is a prank made by his retarded brother, Da Ming is relieved and stays at home. Master Liu is very happy for the reunion, but expresses his joyful feelings implicitly. A few days later, Master Liu collapses and Da Ming decides to work temporarily in the bathhouse. It is the turning point for Da Ming's life: he gradually gets to understand more about his father, about the bathhouse, about his home…

The film shows stories of different characters and Master Liu is the key person to link them up. He intrudes into their lives (and vice versa) and affects each of the others. In fact, the bathhouse is a small community full of human interests and collective memories. Da Ming returns home, re-examines his faults, shamed as he is, he discovers the virtue of forgiveness from his father towards family members or even strangers. Ultimately, he accepts the mental defect of his brother.

The water of the bathhouse is very symbolic: it cleans not only the dirt, but also cleans up people’s hearts. It allows people to reborn and to find love. The film also shows various challenges on traditions that are brought about by rapid developments of society, especially about the destruction of small houses built in alleys and courtyards. The sense of belonging and personal intimacy within neighbourhoods no longer exists. Meanwhile, the small community is now substituted by high storey residential buildings and people are alienated from each other.

CRITERIA FOR REVIEWING

When writing a film review, I consider the following:
1. The regions where the review will be published and try to relate the film to the local audiences; look for links between the storyline and global world or my own country
2. Any insights on social values and pinpoint them to readers
3. Any insights on social teaching from the Church
4. Sometimes may include director’s former productions, or compare films with similar
topics

BIOGRAPHY

Catherine WONG is a film reviewer in Hong Kong. Currently, she works as a producer and scriptwriter for religious television programs, and Treasurer of SIGNIS Asia. She received her Master degree in Communications and Journalism from the Chinese University of Hong Kong. She has served on juries at various international film festival including Cannes, Hong Kong, Montreal and Setubal, Portugal. Her publications include Picket Fences and Madness of Advertising.

THE PHILIPPINES

CINEMA (Catholic Initiative for Enlightened Movie Appreciation)
of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines
Office on Women

No less than Pope John Paul II took cognizance of the overwhelming power of media, especially film, over the lives of people. During his historic visit to Manila in the 80’s, he said, “The image you film, the sounds you record, the programs you broadcast, cross every barrier of Time and Space… What people see and hear in your transmissions and commentaries heavily influence the way they think and act,” Indeed, just as exploitative profit oriented groups can use film to cater to the moviegoers’ baser instincts, without considering their moral well-being, so can more concerned entities like Church based organizations employ the same to enlighten viewers through an intelligent assessment of film based on gospel values.

For this purpose, the Catholic Initiative for Enlightened Movie Appreciation (CINEMA) was created as a special project of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines (CBCP) Office on Women. Launched on July 14, 2000 as the CBCP Office on Women’s unique contribution to the Jubilee Year celebration, CINEMA is the movie classification and ratings board of the CBCP. It has been the Church’s pro-active response to the proliferation of pornography, violence and other morally offensive issues in media, especially film. Not a censorship body, it aims to bring about a film literate citizenry who will promote Christian values. It reviews, classifies and rates films to promote a discerning appreciation of film and to guide the viewing public in the critical choice and patronage of films.

The review for publication is written in English for foreign films and Filipino for local productions. Before writing the review, the reviewer will have seen the film, analyzed and discussed it with assessors using the accomplished assessment forms, may have downloaded information from the internet, seen the ads, press releases, movie commentaries and theater posters. The review consists of the following:

The credits: the same data as found in the accomplished assessment forms.

The ratings: These give an assessment of the technical excellence and moral content of the film. Stars and bullets are used to indicate these.

Aside from guiding the movie viewer, ratings also recommend the appropriate audience for it.

The review article: This has usually 3 paragraphs:

Paragraph A: The Synopsis
Paragraph B: Technical and Artistic Merits
Paragraph C: The moral or value aspects projected by the movie.

Paragraph A: The synopsis in English is written in the present tense; while the one in Filipino should be in the past tense (because of the nature of the language). The synopsis contains the introduction of the movie story, the names of the important characters (with the corresponding actors/ actresses names in the parenthesis) and the main events leading to the point of interest or crisis. So as not to spoil the interest of the moviegoer, the ending is not given but leading questions may be asked.

Paragraph B: This presents the technical and artistic merits noted by the writer, using the data on the assessment forms and other possible source of information.

Paragraph C: This calls attention to the way life/ the human condition is presented in the film. Is it a truthful presentation or is it falsified or distorted? It notes the ethical and moral values (may be universal/ human cultural/ Filipino) projected. How does the film project good and evil, right and wrong? What can be learned from the film? What should we watch out for, to be accepted or rejected? And when called for, what does it show and say about women and their life situation? This paragraph helps the viewers appreciate the value of a good film.

The whole review has about 30-35 lines: Paragraph A and B about 8-12 lines each and Paragraph C about 15-18 lines.

Besides a corps of volunteer reviewers, usually lay people with training in film review and classification, CINEMA has an executive board. It is the first organization of its kind in the Philippines. Only CINEMA considers the moral implications in a film, aside from other considerations, in its reviews. Every week CINEMA publishes the classifications, ratings and reviews of 3-5 movies currently shown in Metro Manila. Its reviews have been quoted, reprinted, and commented on in the country’s mainstream media. From its inception in 2000 to 2007, it distributed 1035 hard copies weekly, (excluding fax messages and emails of these releases) to the media, schools, religious institutions, Metro Manila parishes, all bishops and their dioceses throughout the country, Non-government organizations, lay leaders in the local churches and government offices. The Philippine government’s Movie and Television Ratings and Classification Board (MTRCB) requests for its weekly copy. However, due to financial constraints, CINEMA has ceased its printed publications last year, and it has gone on line. Reviews of 2008 to the present can be viewed onwww.cbcpcinema.blogspot.com.It has about 1,800 hits daily. CINEMA pages are the most visited in the website of the CBCP. These data are a genuine indication of the movie audience’s great interest in the moral implications found in film as interpreted and evaluated according to Christian and gospel values by CINEMA.

PLONING

By: Imelda Benitez

Title of Award-winning Filipino Film: PLONING

Title: Ploning Cast: Judy Ann Santos, Gina Pareño, Mylene Dizon, Eugene Domingo, Tony Mabesa, Meryll Soriano, Ces Quesada, Crispin Medina, Tessie Tomas, Spanky Manikan, Ketchup Eusebio, Boodge Fernandez, Cedric Amit, Ogoy Agustin Director: Dante Nico Garcia Producer: Panoramanila; Screenwriters: Dte Nico Garcia, Benjamin Lingan Music: Jesse Lasaten Genre: Drama Distributor: Panoramanila Location: Philippines Running Time: 110 min.

Technical Assessment: 4 (above average)
Moral Assessment: 4 (wholesome)
CINEMA Rating: For viewers age 13 and below with parental guidance

Short Review

Muo Sei (Boodge Fernandez) travels to Cuyo, Palawan on board an illegal fishing boat and given a whole day to search for a peculiar Ploning. Ploning (Judy Ann Santos) is actually a good-natured woman yet perceived as enigmatic.

Ploning is an exemplary film that showcases the rich culture, scenic island and beautiful language of Cuyo. It has solid plot complemented by excellent acting, good cinematography, musical score and overall production design.

Ploning shows that genuine love radiates through the aura and attitudes of a person regardless of pains it entails. It is a positive film highlighting the values of love, forgiveness, sacrifice, service and selflessness that could inspire viewers of all ages.

Long Review

Muo Sei (Boodge Fernandez) travels to Cuyo, Palawan on board an illegal fishing boat to search for a certain “ploning.” He is given a whole day for this quick mission to avoid having trouble with vessel authorities. In the course of the day’s search, it turns out that Ploning (Judy Ann Santos) is actually good-natured woman yet perceived as mysterious. She has been waiting for her boyfriend who left without a trace over a decade ago. She is a dutiful daughter, a good friend to local people especially women, and a surrogate parent to a child named Digo. One feast day, people are surprised to hear news that Ploning is leaving the island to look for her long lost boyfriend.

Ploning is an exemplary film which showcases not only the scenic island of Cuyo but also its rich culture and beautiful language. The film has a solid story so that despite the many build up of characters, it keeps focused on its central character. The simple production is intensified by remarkable acting of the lead actress Judy Ann Santos and those supporting her including the newcomers, which is also to the credit of the director. "Ploning" to the Cuyonons is also a legendary love song about promises and undying love. Its soothing melody perfectly fits the musical score, combined with sounds that capture the rural setting. The cinematography is commendable with careful treatment of its composition and overall production design. It has smooth flow of emotions and well-coordinated scenes.

Ploning revolves around different perceptions and concept of love. Patient in loving, Ploning believes that to love is to trust and to be hurt but her friend Celeste believes otherwise. The film says that genuine love radiates through the aura and attitudes of a person regardless of pains it entails. Ploning's love is genuine, unreserved and does not expect anything in return, and it’s the same way she loves her parents, friends, her foster child and most of all God. The film posts a challenge to viewers to be instruments of animation and hope to people. Pain could make one’s life either miserable or meaningful. Ploning chooses the latter and the film shows how her legacy of kindness leaves a mark in the hearts of the people whose lives she had touched. “Ploning” is a positive film highlighting the values of love, forgiveness, sacrifice, service, and selflessness that can be a source of inspiration to viewers of all ages.

ANG PAGDADALAGA NI MAXIMO OLIVEROS

By: Josephine Mabanta

Running Time: 104 minutes; Lead Cast: Nathan Lopez, JR Valentin, Soliman Cruz, Ping Medina, Bodgie Pascua; Director: Aureaus Solito; Story and Screenplay: Michiko Yamamoto; Editor: Clarence Sison; Cinematography: Nap Jamir; Production Design: Clint Catalan, Christina Dy, Lily Esquillon; Musical Scorer: Pepe Smith; Producer: Raymond Lee; Location: Slums of Manila; Genre: Drama; Distributor: Cinemalaya Productions

Technical Assessment: 3 (average)
Moral Assessment : 2.5 (disturbing)
Cinema Rating : For viewers 14 and above

Short Review

Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros is a drama about friendship, family and loyalty amidst the a community accustomed to violence, criminality and corruption. Maximo Oliveros, or Maxi for short, is the 12-year old protagonist who struggles between protecting his loving family or listening to his beloved police friend’s moral advice. This straightforward plot brings out a poignant realization that morality can also be present in a person society frowns on. From the point of view of a homosexual boy entering puberty, ethics is understood to be forgotten as even those who profess to uphold law and morality are corrupted by the promise of power and money.

Long Review

Twelve-year-old homosexual Maximo Oliveros belongs to a loving family living through illegal trade and violence in an impoverished community. He takes care of his widowed father Mang Paco and his two brothers, not once questioning their whereabouts. One night Maxi is harassed by his neighbours. Victor, a newbie policeman, rescues an almost naked Maxi from being molested. Maxi ingratiates himself to the young policeman. The two become good friends but things change when Maxi’s eldest brother accidentally kills a student. Maxi becomes torn between his devotion to his family and his friendship with Victor. In the end, he walks past Victor in homage to the movie “The Third Man”.
The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros looks a little technically amateurish. The lighting is monotonous and the cinematography a little shaky. However, it makes up with the beautiful narrative, rich imagery and visual metaphors. The character development is honest, well-rounded, whole and meaningful: the petty criminal father who loves his children, the older brother who is compassionate towards his gay baby brother, the neophyte policeman who is suddenly conscious of the reality of violence, the young homosexual who experiences puppy love for the first time. Following Maxi’s daily life is a gentle caress of the senses. The storyline is so truthful that viewers will proudly share Maxi’s triumph as he begins to understand the grief of losing a parent, the pain of a broken heart, and the agony of betrayal.

It seems disturbing that the film presents violence and crime as acceptable for one who is poor. The movie seems to say that poverty justifies unlawful acts, and that violence is necessary to suppress these acts. Fighting is unavoidable even over the pettiest issue, such as where to dump the garbage. It seems poverty has robbed the community of good graces and morals. Save for Maxi who is still young and effeminate, all the characters have no qualms about committing acts of aggression or brutality, including the seemingly incorruptible policeman who believes killing a criminal is justifiable.
Despite all that, though, the movie is truthful and sincere in portraying life—not exaggerates what is good and beautiful nor hiding what is painful and ugly. The movie values family and friendship and emphasizes that respect is due to every person whether gay or straight. Moreover, from Maxi’s gentleness, his brothers learn to forgive, move on, and change for the better.

MAGNIFICO

By Rizalino Pinlac, Jr.

Technical Assessment: 4 (above average)
Moral Assessment: 4 (wholesome)
Rating: For Viewers All Ages

Genre: Drama; Lead Cast: Jiro Manio, Lorna Tolentino, Albert Martinez, Gloria Romero, Danilo Barrios, Isabella de Leon, Tonton Gutierrez, Mark Gil, Girlie Sevilla; Director: Maryo J. delos Reyes; Screenplay: Michiko Yamamoto; Location: Laguna, Philippines; Running Time: 120 mins.

Short Review

When the little boy Magnifico’s grandmother, Lola (Gloria Romero) is diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the impoverished life of his family goes from bad to worse. The cost of medication would be as much as the cost of her burial. Out of genuine concern, Magnifico secretly builds Lola a coffin.

The film, being raw and realistic, Magnifico reflects plain honesty typical of Filipino family and community life. Masterfully crafted and tightly edited, the film is more than a tearjerker; it is a social commentary about life and death told through the eyes of a child. True to its title, Magnifico is an affective depiction of the magic of selfless giving.

Long Review

Edna (Lorna Tolentino) and Gener (Albert Martinez) are full of hopes for their newborn so they named him Magnifico, after a magician. Magnifico means magnificent. But then Magnifico (Jiro Manio) grows up to be an average boy, kindhearted and charming. When Magnifico’s grandmother, Lola (Gloria Romero) is diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the impoverished life of his family goes from bad to worse. His mother becomes even more concerned with their finances while his father’s income is never enough for them. Still, they have to take care of Magnifico’s younger sister Helen (Isabella de Leon) afflicted with cerebral palsy. The family’s only hope, his older brother (Danilo Barrios), has just lost his college scholarship. Magnifico gets too concerned with their family’s problems and he could only think of raising funds for his grandmother’s impending demise. A burial plot, he learns from Lola, would cost 30,000 pesos. A little extra would help him bring Helen to the amusement park. With the help of a close friend (Joseph Robles), Magnifico secretly builds Lola a coffin.

The film, being raw and realistic, Magnifico reflects plain honesty typical of Filipino family and community life. The understated portrayals of the actors make the film a real delight to watch. The director and the writer have a knack for lightening up heavy scenes with simplicity and humor. Masterfully crafted and tightly edited, Magnifico is more than a tearjerker; it is a social commentary about life and death told through the eyes of a child.

What goes around, comes around. This adage is not original of Magnifico but it could well sum up everything the movie wants to convey. The boy Magnifico may not have lived up to his parents’ expectations but later on proves himself more than worthy of his name. He has uplifted the entire community with his little acts of kindness thereby getting back more than what he wanted. Although it has cost him a lot for his family and the entire community to realize that there’s more to life than money and good fortune, it’s still worth all the sacrifice. True to its title, Magnifico is an affective depiction of the magic and magnificence of life, and yes, even death.

CATHOLIC INITIATIVE FOR ENLIGHTENED MOVIE APPRECIATION

ASSESSMENT FORM

REVIEWER: DATE OF REVIEW

GENERAL INFORMATION

TITLE RUNNING TIME
LEAD CAST
DIRECTOR:
SCREENWRITER:
PRODUCER:
EDITOR: MUSICAL DIRECTOR
GENRE:
CINEMATOGRAPHER: DISTRIBUTOR
LOCATION:

BRIEF FILM SYNOPSIS

TECHNICAL EVALUATION

AREA

OF

CONCERN
RATING
5 - EXCELLENT
4 - ABOVE AVERAGE
3 - AVERAGE
2 - BELOW AVERAGE
1 - POOR

REMARKS
ACTING/ CHARACTERIZATION

CINEMATOGRAPHY

COMPOSITION

DIALOGUE

DIRECTING

EDITING

LIGHTING

MUSICAL SCORE

PLOT DEVELOPMENT

PRODUCTION DESIGN/
COSTUME, MAKE-UP

SOUND EFFECTS

VISUAL EFFECTS

TECHNICAL ASSESSMENT
1:1-1.99 2:2-2.99 3:3-3.99 4:4-4.99 5: Excellent

NOTE: HALF stars may be added to assessment as needed.

MORAL EVALUATION

CENTRAL IDEA:

SUBJECT
MATTER/S
MANNER OF
PRESENTATION
MORAL IMPLICATION

MORAL ASSESSMENT
EXEMPLARY WHOLESOME ACCEPTABLE DISTURBING ABHORRENT
5 4 3 2 1

NOTE: HALF bullets may be added to assessment needed.

VIEWERS INFORMATION GUIDE

AREA
OF INFORMATION
FREQUENCY
FREQUENT/
NOT FREQUENT
INTENSITY
Low/Medium/High
VALUES
within the context
movie
VALUES vs Filipino
Catholic values
Vulgar Language

Sexual Issues

Violence

Emotional Stress

Drugs/ Alcohol

Others/ Specify

REASONS FOR THE CLASSIFICATION

OUTSTANDING FEATURES OF THE FILM:

ADDITIONAL REMARKS:

RATING:

REVIEWER'S SIGNATURE

CINEMA RECIPIENT'S SIGNATURE
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DATE RECEIVED BY CINEMA

KRZYSZTOF ZANUSSI POLAND

OCIC - SIGNIS PRIZE

Looking back on the list of films awarded by OCIC I find my name on the top. This cuts short all possible critical remarks I could ever express in respect of the OCIC prizes.

I must feel thankful, first of all at the time of communism OCIC prize was most desirable for an artist from so-called socialist camp and slightly embarrassing for the authorities - officially bound to Marxist critical view on religion and realistically eager to see any sign of recognition for an artist representing illegitimate regimes. This duplicity applied to Poland more than to any other soviet satellite countries. In last 20 years of its existence communist regime in Poland was trying to establish cohabitation of convenience with Roman Catholic Church. In spite of deeply harmful Vatican's 'real politic' in the 70-ties Polish Catholic Church was offering in Poland an ideological alternative to the Marxism.

Looking on the choice of Polish films honored by OCIC prize I notice firm tendency to focus on social issues and to ignore or neglect any kind of expression of metaphysical perspective. This perspective seems to me emblematic for so-called progressive catholic intellectuals of the West. However our days call in my personal perspective to pay more attention to the vision of a man as creature, not creator. In other words, more focus on God less on sociopolitical issues. If you want an example look at Ken Loach's popularity on the OCIC list (in spite of his firm Marxist convictions) and an absence of many artists like Pupi Avati, Ermano Olmi or, in Poland Jerzy Łukasiewicz or Jacek Bławut.

I hope SIGNIS will go beyond OCIC inhibitions and be less politically correct and more sensible for metaphysics that makes art transcendent.

Of Polish films that won OCIC prize I would praise Decalogue I - of Kieślowski, one of the rare works of modern cinema talking openly about most fundamental question (as Dostoyevsky put it - the question of God's existence). I remember shortly after Kieślowski's death I was presenting Decalogue I at German Katholiken Tag . Some members of the audience objected the explicit way, that Kieślowski used to say - reason alone is helpless when confronted with the mystery of our existence. The only way to cope with the mystery is to admit God's existence and adopt humble attitude in exchange to our common pride.

FILMS:

1966. THE PROVINCIAL'S DEATH - graduation film
Silver Lion, International Film Festival, Venice 1967; Golden Ducat, International Film Festival, Mannheim 1968; Golden Aurelia, International Film Festival, Valladolid 1968; Best Foreign Film, Festival of Student Films, Moscow 1968.

1968. KRZYSZTOF PENDERECKI - documentary, TV Poland
Grand Prix International Film Festival, Leipzig;

1968. THE STRUCTURE OF CRYSTAL
Silver Condor for the screenplay and award for debuting director, International Film Festival, Mar del Plata 1970; Second Award, International Film Festival, Valladolid 1970; Special Award, International Film Festival, Panama 1970

1971. FAMILY LIFE
Silver Hugo, International Film Festival, Chicago 1971; Premio de San Gregorio and Premio de Ciudad de Valladolid, International Film Festival, Valladolid 1972; Second Award, International Film Festival, Colombo 1973

BEHIND THE WALL TVP - Grand Prix and Award for Maja Komorowska, International Television Film Festival, San Remo 1971

1973. ILLUMINATION
Grand Prix, FIPRESCI Award, Ecumenical Jury's Award, International Film Festival, Locarno 1973; Grand Prix, International Film Festival, Ravenna 1973; Distinction, International Film Festival, Mannheim 1973; Special Award, Polish Festival of Feature Films, Gdańsk 1974; Golden Medal, International Film Festival, Figueira da Foz 1975

THE CATAMOUNT KILLING, co-prod. USA/Germany

1975 QUARTERLY BALANCE
Award for Maja Komorowska, Best Music Award, Polish Feature Film Festival, Gdańsk 1975; OCIC Award, International Film Festival, West Berlin 1975 NIGHT DUTY - TV Germany, co-script and co-dir. Edward Żebrowski

1976 CAMOUFLAGE
Golden Lions and Actor Award for Zbigniew Zapasiewicz, Best Screenplay Award, Polish Feature Film Festival, Gdańsk 1977; Journalists' Award, International Film Festival, Rotterdam 1978; Second Best Director Award Golden Capricorn, International Film Festival, Teheran 1977

1977. THE ANATOMY LESSON, TV Germany

THE HOUSE OF WOMEN, TV Germany

LUTOSŁAWSKI, PENDERECKI, BAIRD – documentary, TV Germany MY CRACOW (Mein Krakau), TV Germany

1977. THE SPIRAL
Distinction of the Ecumenical Jury, International Film Festival, Cannes 1978; Journalists' Award and Silver Badge for music by Wojciech Kilar, Polish Feature Film Festival, Gdańsk 1978; Awards for the Director, Screenplay and Photography, International Film Festival, Panama 1979

1979. ROADS IN THE NIGHT - Germany/ France
International Film Festival Cannes 1979 (Certain Regard)

1979. CONSTANT FACTOR
Best Director Award and Award of the Ecumenical Jury, International Film Festival, Cannes 1980; Jury's Special Award, Polish Feature Film Festival, Gdańsk 1980

THE CONTRACT
Distinction of the Catholic Film Bureau, Distributors Prize, International Film Festival, Venice 1980

1979. FROM A FAR COUNTRY: POPE JOHN PAUL II,
co-prod. UK/Italy/Poland

TEMPTATION - TV Germany

1982 THE UNAPPROACHABLE – Germany (in English)

IMPERATIVE - co-prod. Germany-France?
Special Jury Prize, International Film Festival Venice 1982

VATICAN, THE CAPITAL OF CULTURE - documentary, TV Italy
1983 BLUEBEARD - TV Germany /Switzerland
Grand Prix –Venezia TV

1984. THE YEAR OF QUIET SUN, co-prod. Poland/Germany/USA
Golden Lion and Pasinetti Award of the Association of Italian Film Journalists, International Film Festival, Venice 1984

1984. PARADIGMA - co-prod. France/Italy/Germany

1987 EXTINCT DAYS - TV Germany

1988 WHEREVER YOU ARE, IF YOU ARE..., co-prod. Poland/Germany/UK, Ecumenical Prize – International Film Festival, Montreal 1986;

1989. INVENTORY - co-prod. Poland/Germany,
Award of the Ecumenical Jury, International Film Festival, Moscow 1989; Grand Prix,
International Film Festival, Strasbourg 1990; Best Screenplay Award for Krzysztof Zanussi and Best Actor Award for Artur Żmijewski, International Film Festival, Viareggio 1989

1989. LUTOSŁAWSKI Interviewed by Krzysztof Zanussi - TV Great Britain (BBC)

A LONG CONVERSATION WITH A BIRD - co-prod. Germany/Great Britain

A LIFE FOR A LIFE. MAKSYMILIAN KOLBE, co-prod.Poland/Germany

NAPOLEON - TV series, episode 3: MARIA WALEWSKA - France

YELTZIN - MY RUSSIA – documentary, TV co-prod. Poland/Germany/ Russia/France

1992 THE SILENT TOUCH - co-prod. Poland/Denmark/Great Britain,
Jury Award to Max von Sydow, International Film Festival, Tokyo 1992

1992 OLD TIMES - TV play, Germany

1992-93 CONVERSATIONS WITH KRZYSZTOF ZANUSSI – documentary TV

1993 IMPRESSION ABOUT CHOPIN’S MUSIC - Chopin in Łazienki Park;
Chopin in Central Railway Station – documentary, TV high definition, co-prod. TVP, Channel 4, RAI Sat, France Supervision

MUSIC IN THE WARSAW GHETTO – documentary, TV co-prod. Poland/Germany
1994.

CONVERSATION WITH LORD YEHUDI MENUHIN - documentary, TV
Poland/Germany

1995-1996 WEEKEND STORIES -TV series of 8 episodes (1 h. long)

1995. RE PESCATORE – TV Italia

1996 LADY WITH THE EREMINE – documentary, TV Great Britain (BBC)

HAVE NO FEAR (Non abiate paura) – documentary, TV Italy (RAI)

IN FULL GALLOP
Grand Prix, International Film Festival, Tokyo 1996
International Film Festival, Cannes 1996 (Certain Regard)

1995. OUR GOD'S BROTHER - co-prod. Italy/Poland/Germany
Best Script, International Film Festival Teheran 1998

1999 L’ALOUETTE - TV play

2000 LIFE AS A FATAL SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED DISEASE
Grand Prix – International Film Festival Moscow 2000, Grand Prix - Polish Feature Film Festival, Gdańsk 2000

2002. SUPPLEMENT
FIPRESCI Prize at International Film Festival Moscow 2002

2002. CASTING – TV play based on his own script

2003. PERSONA NON GRATA co-prod. Poland/Russia/Italy

2006 IL SOLE NERO co-prod. Italy/France

2008 WITH A WARM HEART, co-prod. Poland/Ukraine

2009 INNER VOICES, TV play based on his own script

La Mission de mediafilm.ca

Martin Bilodeau, Communications et Societe

Division de Communications et Société, mediafilm.ca est l’agence de presse cinématographique responsable de l’attribution des cotes (1) à (7) dans les journaux, télé-horaires, médias électroniques du Québec, ainsi que des textes du Guide DVD de La Boîte noire (Éd. Fides).

Depuis plus de 50 ans, l’équipe de mediafilm.ca voit et analyse l’ensemble des longs métrages diffusés en salles, en vidéo et à la télévision. Elle a pour mission de partager son expertise de la critique cinématographique avec l’ensemble des spectateurs du petit et du grand écran du monde francophone et militer avec eux en faveur d’une évaluation qualitative des films, plutôt que quantitative (ie. le box-office).

Notes sur les cotes

Les cotes de mediafilm.ca ont été créées en 1968 par Robert- Claude Bérubé. Soulignant la valeur artistique des films, elles remplaçaient les cotes morales (Tous, Adolescents et Adultes, À déconseiller, etc.) proposées depuis 1957, année de parution du premier Recueil des films par le Centre catholique national du cinéma, de la radio et de la télévision — ancêtre de Communications et société.

Les films cotés (1) font partie d’un cercle restreint de 134 longs métrages qui ont marqué l’histoire du cinéma, que ce soit par un nouveau langage visuel, une nouvelle façon de raconter une histoire, ou encore par une perfection formelle qui force l’admiration. Pour accéder au rang de chef-d’oeuvre, un film doit avoir été produit il y a quinze ans ou plus, de façon à vérifier s’il a passé l’épreuve du temps.

La cote (2) est la plus haute distinction qu’un film puisse obtenir à chaud. Elle signifie que l’oeuvre présente des qualités artistiques exceptionnelles, fait preuve d’innovation et possède un supplément d’âme qui le rend universel et intemporel. En outre, les films qui obtiennent cette cote se démarquent dans les cinématographies de leurs pays respectifs, où ils servent de modèles et de repères.

L’originalité, la pertinence et la qualité de l’écriture, de la mise en scène et de l’interprétation sont les principaux attributs d’un très bon film, soit d’un film coté (3). La chaleur de l’accueil critique qu’ils reçoivent dans les festivals internationaux et l’universalité de leur propos sont également des critères précieux. De par leur nombre (50 à 80 par an, en incluant les téléfilms et les films inédits parus en DVD), les films cotés (3) sont ceux par lesquels on mesure la qualité d’un millésime cinématographique. Et comme le bon vin, certains se bonifient avec le temps.

On a habituellement peu de reproches importants à adresser à un film coté (4). S’il n’est pas toujours transcendant ou original, son pari est réussi et son exécution, solide. Il peut également s’agir d’une oeuvre ambitieuse, parfois réalisée par un cinéaste majeur (ex.: The Black Dahlia de Brian De Palma), qui s’avère plutôt décevante, en dépit d’indéniables qualités.

La note moyenne signifie qu’un film possède autant de défauts que de qualités, bien que les premiers soient, la plupart du temps, plus visibles que les seconds. Un film surmonté de la cote (5) est habituellement cohérent et professionnel, mais peu inspiré ou inabouti sur le plan artistique.

Quelques timides éléments rédempteurs peuvent encore sauver du naufrage complet les films cotés (6). S’ils sont ratés, sans équivoque possible, ces films sont néanmoins le fruit d’une intention artistique plus ou moins perceptible, et d’une exécution technique passable.

Depuis l’avènement de la vague «psychotronique» et le culte du kitsch et du trash, les films ayant obtenu la cote infâme de (7) connaissent un regain de popularité auprès des cinéphages. Rappelons que les scénarios de ces longs métrages sont la plupart du temps d’une profonde débilité, que la réalisation est, au mieux, bâclée, et l’interprétation, au pire, catatonique.

Exemples de critiques de mediafilm.ca

Adoration (4)

Canada. 2008. Drame psychologique. Réalisation et scénario: Atom Egoyan. Photographie: Paul Sarossy. Montage: Susan Shipton. Musique: Mychael Danna. Avec Devon Bostick, Arsinée Khanjian, Scott Speedman, Rachel Blanchard, Noam Jenkins, Kenneth Welsh. 108 min.

Encouragé par son enseignante Sabine à prétendre dans un exposé oral qu'il est le fils d'un terroriste islamiste, Simon déclenche un débat virulent qui déborde dans Internet. La réalité du garçon est toute autre, mais guère moins triste: son père, luthier issu du Moyen-Orient?et sa mère, prodige du violon née au Canada, ont autrefois trouvé la mort dans un accident de la route. Simon a été pris en charge depuis par son oncle Tom, un remorqueur qui nourrit un ressentiment envers son propre père, un millionnaire haïssable qui aurait provoqué la mort des parents de son neveu. Alors que ce dernier arbitre le débat causé par sa confession que tous croient véridique et que Tom tente de composer avec des ennuis financiers, Sabine, dont les motivations sont nébuleuses, tente de s'immiscer dans leur intimité.

Depuis FAMILY VIEWING, qui l'a révélé en 1986, Atom Egoyan n'a cessé d'être fasciné par les nouvelles technologies de l'image et de se questionner sur leur impact dans la vie des individus. Dans ADORATION, variation inspirée sur des thèmes qui lui sont chers (au premier chef le poids des familles et la quête d'identité), sa mise en scène, comme toujours très savante et travaillée, s'articule autour de forums Internet et d'images générées par la caméra numérique du jeune protagoniste. Ces dispositifs démultiplient les perspectives et brouillent la frontière entre le mensonge et la vérité, un autre thème fétiche du réalisateur de SPEAKING PARTS et WHERE THE TRUTH LIES. Si l'usage qui en est fait s'avère particulièrement éloquent, le scénario, en revanche, cache mal les ficelles du film à thèses que son auteur tente d'imposer, ici par deux ou trois situations un peu forcées, là à travers quelques dialogues surexplicatifs. Comme toujours chez Egoyan, la direction d'acteurs est un brin solennelle, néanmoins satisfaisante dans l'ensemble. (Martin Bilodeau)

Remarques : Écarts de langage. Propos racistes.

Cris et chuchotements (1)
(Viskningar och rop)

Suède. 1972. Drame psychologique. Réalisation et scénario: Ingmar Bergman. Photographie: Sven Nykvist. Montage: Siv Lundgren. Avec Ingrid Thulin, Liv Ullmann, Harriet Andersson, Kari Sylwan. 95 min.

Trois soeurs se trouvent réunies dans la maison de leur enfance où l'une d'elles, Agnes, est mourante. L'aînée, Karin, est l'épouse d'un diplomate plus âgé qu'elle avec qui elle a des relations très tendues. Maria, sa cadette, est une coquette dont la liaison avec un médecin a failli causer le suicide de son mari. Après sa mort, Agnes, au cours d'une nuit hallucinante, sollicite le réconfort de ses soeurs et ne le reçoit que de la part d'une servante, Anna.

La souffrance morale ou physique a rarement été évoquée au cinéma avec autant de force que dans ce film de Bergman, qui compte parmi ses plus beaux. La couleur y est utilisée avec raffinement dans une gamme limitée de tons où dominent le blanc et le rouge. Quatre portraits de femmes y sont tracés avec infiniment de nuances et une rare pénétration psychologique, et le réalisateur a réuni un carré exceptionnel de comédiennes pour les animer. (Robert-Claude Bérubé)

Remarques : Violence. Nudité.

Des Rats et des lapins (7) (Rats & Rabbits)

Canada - France. 1999. Comédie policière. Réalisation: Lewis Furey. Scénario: Pascal Arnold, L. Furey, d’après le pièce «Beyond Mozambique» de George F. Walker. Photographie: Gérard Simon (Coul.). Montage: Véronique Parent. Musique: Vic Emerson. Avec Carole Laure, Nigel Bennett, Paul Ahmarani, Andrew Tarbet, Véronique Le Flaguais, Tom Barnett. 90 min.

Dans une zone urbaine malfamée, l’idiot Petru est témoin de l’assassinat du maire. Il récupère le corps décapité et le ramène au docteur Rocco, son père adoptif, un chirurgien banni du corps médical pour ses transplantations d’organes prélevés sur des sujets toujours vivants. Olga, l’épouse du docteur, est la maîtresse du policier Ralph, qui est chargé de l’enquête. Celui-ci apprend que le maire a été vu pour la dernière fois au cabaret de Rita, une ex-reine du porno. L’enquête est suivie avec un grand intérêt par l’ambitieux reporter Jim, à l’affût d’informations sensationnelles.

Compositeur aux idées originales et réputé metteur en scène de spectacles, Lewis Furey a réalisé en 1985 le film Night Magic, une fantaisie musicale qui avait reçu un accueil plutôt favorable. Pour son deuxième long métrage, Furey adapte maintenant la pièce de George F. Walker Beyond Mozambique, mais cette fois, le résultat est désastreux. D'une part, le scénario incohérent va dans toutes les directions, l'humour noir tombe constamment à plat, les scènes sexy apparaissent vulgairement racoleuses et la violence primaire est des plus complaisantes. D'autre part, les personnages, de véritables caricatures sur deux pattes, exaspèrent rapidement le spectateur qui demeurera suprêmement indifférent à leur pitoyable sort de tarés. D'autant plus qu'ils sont incarnés de façon hystérique par des comédiens laissés à eux-mêmes. Il en va de même de la réalisation. La caméra à l'épaule frénétique tourne n'importe comment une suite d'images montées de façon confuse et sans aucun rythme, malgré l'extrême brièveté de la plupart des plans. Furey voulait recréer une esthétique «trash» allant de pair avec un portrait urbain désespéré et nihiliste. Il a surtout démontré avec éclat les limites de son talent. (Louis-Paul Rioux)

Remarques : Dures violences, viols, érotisme, langage vulgaire.

L'Étrange Histoire de Benjamin Button (3) (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)

États-Unis. 2008. Chronique. Réalisation: David Fincher. Scénario: Eric Roth, d'après la nouvelle de Francis Scott Fitzgerald. Photographie: Claudio Miranda. Montage: Kirk Baxter, Angus Wall. Musique: Alexandre Desplat. Avec Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett, Taraji P. Henson, Julia Ormond, Jason Flemyng, Tilda Swinton. 159 min.

À sa naissance, en 1918, Benjamin Button a l’apparence et les caractéristiques d’un vieillard. Abandonné par son père sur le seuil d’une maison pour personnes âgées de la Nouvelle-Orléans?, il est recueilli et élevé par Queenie, qui tient l’établissement où, en grandissant, le vieillard-enfant se confond avec la clientèle. Pour un temps du moins, car Benjamin, à l’inverse du reste du monde, rajeunit de jour en jour. À vingt ans, l’air de soixante, il prend la mer, sur un chalutier, et connaît par la suite diverses aventures, dont une, passionnée mais de courte durée, avec l'épouse d'un diplomate. Mais outre Queenie, une seule femme occupe ses pensées: Daisy, ballerine dont il est tombé amoureux autrefois, et avec qui il va vivre un grand amour lorsque leurs âges… se croiseront.

David Fincher (ZODIAC, PANIC ROOM) signe une adaptation sublime et sobrement insolite d'une nouvelle de Francis Scott Fitzgerald. D’entrée de jeu, le climat moite de la Nouvelle-Orléans?, ainsi que le rythme indolent, nous plongent dans une réflexion sur le rapport au temps et sur le long chemin qui sépare la naissance de la mort. Brad Pitt, qui tourne avec Fincher pour la troisième fois (après SEVEN et FIGHT CLUB) se surpasse dans le rôle exigeant de ce Dorian Gray malgré lui, incapable d’arrêter le temps qui le force à prendre le chemin contraire de ceux qu’il aime. Il se dégage de sa fatalité assumée en silence une mélancolie prenante, dont les motifs ne sont pas sans rappeler ceux de «Gatsby le magnifique», du même romancier. Cette production haut de gamme, plutôt classique dans ses contours, repose sur un traitement visuel fin, jamais tapageur, hautement texturé et riche en détails. Si bien qu’un seul visionnement ne peut suffire à nous en faire apprécier toute la richesse. Au-delà de Pitt, dont la très forte présence est mise en valeur par un jeu tout en retenue, Cate Blanchett et Taraji P. Henson sont impeccables. (Martin Bilodeau)

Remarques : Situations à caractère sexuel.

Folle de Dieu (3)

Canada (Québec). 2008. Film d'essai. Réalisation et scénario: Jean-Daniel?Lafond. Photographie: Michel La Veaux. Montage: Babalou Hamelin. Musique: Louise Courville. Avec Marie Tifo, Lorraine Pintal, Marie Chouinard, Dominique Deslandres, Aline Apostolska, Louise Courville, Jacques Lacoursière. 75 min.

Ce film trace un portrait de Mère Marie de l'Incarnation à travers les filtres de l'Histoire, la théologie, le théâtre, la littérature, la musique et la danse. Née Marie Guyard à Tours, cette jeune femme d'affaires veuve, obéissant à un appel mystique, a tout quitté pour devenir missionnaire en Nouvelle-France?. Fondatrice en 1639 du couvent des Ursulines à Québec, cette «épouse de Dieu» a poursuivi toute sa vie une correspondance avec son fils, qu'elle avait abandonné en France à l'âge de douze ans.

Ce projet ambitieux, fouillé, protéiforme, Jean-Daniel?Lafond (LA LIBERTÉ EN COLÈRE, LE CABINET DU DOCTEUR FERRON) le portait en lui depuis le début des années 1980. Ce FOLLE DE DIEU fascinant et instructif, oeuvre d'un intellectuel et non d'un dévot, prend en quelque sorte la forme d'une enquête de la comédienne Marie Tifo visant à lui permettre d’incarner à la scène cette femme d'exception dans toutes ses nuances imaginables. L'abandon du fils, a priori révoltant, et les extases mystiques (proches de l'orgasme) de la religieuse en communion avec son «époux spirituel», donnent lieu aux commentaires les plus passionnants des différents spécialistes convoqués par le cinéaste. Le tournage en vidéo enlève peut-être un peu de lustre et d'ampleur à l'entreprise, mais la mise en scène rigoureuse, ainsi que la performance intense et inspirée de Tifo, rachètent largement ces lacunes. (Louis-Paul Rioux)

Remarques : Références sexuelles

L'Heure d'été (4)

France. 2008. Drame psychologique. Réalisation et scénario: Olivier Assayas. Photographie: Éric Gautier. Montage: Luc Barnier. Avec Charles Berling, Juliette Binoche, Jérémie Renier, Édith Scob, Dominique Reymond, Valérie Bonneton. 104 min.

Pour son 75e anniversaire, Hélène Marly réunit toute sa famille à sa maison de campagne. Sentant sa fin approcher, la matriarche a commencé à faire l’inventaire de sa précieuse collection d'oeuvres et d'objets d'art, dont une partie lui a été léguée par son oncle Paul Berthier, un peintre réputé. Faisant fi des réticences de Frédéric, son fils aîné, Hélène insiste pour évoquer sa succession et l’avenir de sa collection. À son décès, qui survient peu de temps après, Frédéric se retrouve exécuteur testamentaire. Hélas pour lui, sa soeur Adrienne, designer vivant aux États-Unis, et son frère Jérémie, appelé par son travail à déménager en Chine, ne partagent pas son sens du devoir et du patrimoine familial. Frédéric tente, tant bien que mal, d'éviter les affrontements et les déchirements.

Cette commande du musée d'Orsay, à l’occasion du 20e anniversaire de l’institution, devait à l'origine être un court métrage. Olivier Assayas (CLEAN, IRMA VEP) en a décidé autrement, voyant l'occasion de sculpter une oeuvre légère tout en nuances, sans grands ressorts dramatiques, mais profondément humaine et touchante. Tout en y intégrant subtilement des éléments didactiques sur les lois de succession, il livre une réflexion éclairée sur le patrimoine et la place de l’art dans nos vies. Retrouvant la veine plus sobre des DESTINÉES SENTIMENTALES, l'auteur use de fins dialogues et de mouvements d'appareil discrets pour bien cerner les sentiments des personnages. L'interprétation d'ensemble se révèle naturelle, autant chez les comédiens chevronnés que chez les enfants. Quitte à paraître par moments un peu aride ou lisse, L'HEURE D'ÉTÉ est un fort joli film sur le temps qui passe, porté par le regard amoureux d'un cinéaste sur les êtres et les choses. (Jean Beaulieu)

Remarques : RAS.

Là-haut (4) (Up)

États-Unis. 2009. Film d'animation. Réalisation: Pete Docter. Scénario: Bob Peterson, P. Docter. Photographie: Patrick Lin. Montage: Kevin Nolting. Musique: Michael Giacchino. Voix (version originale): Ed Asner, Christopher Plummer, Jordan Nagai, Bob Peterson, Delroy Lindo, Jerome Ranft, John Ratzenberger, Josh Cooley, Pete Docter. 96 min.

Menacé d'être envoyé dans un centre pour retraités, le septuagénaire Carl Fredrickson noue des millions de ballons à sa maison et s'envole à son bord vers l'Amérique du Sud, exauçant du coup le rêve de sa défunte épouse. Le vieil homme ignorait toutefois que Russell, un boy-scout volubile, se trouvait sur le balcon au moment du décollage. Malgré lui du voyage, le garçon n'a qu'un souhait: obtenir son badge prouvant qu'il a aidé une personne âgée. Arrivés à destination, le sévère vieillard et le gamin gaffeur font la connaissance de chiens munis d'un collier spécial leur permettant de parler. S'étant pris d'affection pour Dug, le maillon faible de la meute, Russell apprivoise un oiseau rare que convoite un mystérieux explorateur.

Après l’alléchant RATATOUILLE et le splendide WALL-E, UP paraît bien sage. Et cela malgré les effets 3D fort réussis, l'agréable mélange d'émotion, d'action et d'humour, ainsi que la séduisante idée de départ. Or, comme les millions de ballons du récit piloté par Pete Docter, celle-ci se dégonfle peu à peu. Ainsi, après une brève envolée épique vers l’Amérique du Sud, le récit inspiré des films d'aventures des années 1930 aligne une suite monotone de poursuites dans la jungle et de gaffes commises par le jeune personnage. Si ce dernier se révèle souvent irritant, on s'attache plus facilement au personnage peu loquace de Carl Frederickson, dont le faciès sévère s’inspire notamment des traits de Spencer Tracy. Au bout du compte, on retient surtout l’émouvant et amusant prologue, où l’on suit l'évolution de Carl et de sa femme, depuis l’enfance jusqu’à la mort de celle-ci. (Manon Dumais)

Remarques : RAS.

Manhattan (1)

États-Unis. 1979. Comédie sentimentale. Réalisation: Woody Allen. Scénario: W. Allen, Marshall Brickman. Photographie (N&B.): Gordon Willis. Montage: Susan E. Morse. Musique: George Gershwin. Avec Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Michael Murphy, Mariel Hemingway, Meryl Streep, Anne Byrne, Karen Ludwig. 93 min.

Isaac Davis écrit pour la télévision des émissions humoristiques. Vétéran de deux mariages malheureux, il vit une liaison avec une adolescente, Tracy. Son meilleur ami, Yale, lui présente un jour une journaliste, Mary, dont il est épris bien que marié. Le premier contact est plutôt rude, mais Isaac revoit Mary par hasard et s'attache à elle. Lorsque Yale décide de rompre, il n'est que trop heureux d'entamer des relations amoureuses avec Mary, après avoir signifié son congé à Tracy. Cette aventure sentimentale semble se développer sous d'heureux auspices jusqu'à ce que Mary renoue avec Yale.

De film en film, Woody Allen raffine son style et en est arrivé dans MANHATTAN à une fort heureuse alliance de mélancolie et d'ironie pour décrire les démêlés existentiels et sentimentaux d'intellectuels new-yorkais. De fines notes d'observation critique s'expriment tout au long du film tant dans les dialogues que dans les images. L'auteur a réussi d'intéressantes compositions picturales et a même tenté quelques audaces stylistiques. Il a obtenu de lui-même et des autres comédiens un jeu où s'allient la spontanéité et l'intelligence. (Robert- Claude Bérubé)

Remarques : Situations à caractère sexuel.

Prédictions (5) (Knowing)

États-Unis - Australie. 2009. Science-fiction. Réalisation: Alex Proyas. Scénario: Ryne Pearson, Juliet Snowden, Stiles White, Stuart Hazeldine. Photographie: Simon Duggan. Montage: Richard Learoyd. Musique: Marco Beltrami. Avec Nicolas Cage, Rose Byrne, Chandler Canterbury, Lara Robinson, Ben Mendelsohn, Nadia Townsend, Danielle Carter, Alan Hopgood. 121 min.

En 1959, dans la cour d’une école primaire de la banlieue de Boston, une capsule scellée contenant des dessins d'enfants est mise en terre. Cinquante ans plus tard, on l'exhume afin d'en distribuer le contenu aux écoliers. Plutôt que de recevoir un dessin, Caleb Koestler se retrouve avec une feuille noircie de chiffres. John, son père astrophysicien, s'intéresse au document mystérieux et découvre, consterné, que ce dernier a prédit avec exactitude une série de catastrophes survenues depuis. En traquant les origines du document, John fait la connaissance de Diana Wayland et de sa fille Abby qui, comme Caleb, semble être en contact avec des êtres étranges et inquiétants. À mesure que s'accumulent les tragédies, John comprend que la dernière série de chiffres du document annonce rien de moins que la fin du monde.

Cinq ans après I, ROBOT, inspiré de l'oeuvre d'Isaac Asimov, Alex Proyas (DARK CITY) emprunte aussi bien à l'Ancien Testament qu'à THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL pour signer ce thriller apocalyptique décevant. Bien que sa mise en scène soit efficace, voire inventive par moments, le cinéaste australien la met au service d'un scénario simpliste truffé d'incohérences. Après une ouverture bien troussée, très évocatrice, l'intrigue emprunte des avenues de plus en plus prévisibles, où les développements arbitraires sont légion. Le ton se fait grandiloquent et le message religieux, scandé à grands coups de symboles primaires, finit d’alourdir l’ensemble. Cela étant, l’excellente direction photo met en valeur de superbes paysages automnaux et, quand elle cesse de rugir, la trame sonore de Marco Beltrami s'avère très efficace. Pour sa part, Nicolas Cage y va d'une interprétation d'abord convenable, qui finit toutefois par sombrer, avec le film, dans le ridicule. (François Lévesque)

Remarques : Violence.

Rêves perdus (6)
(Faded Memories)

États-Unis. 2008. Drame psychologique. Réalisation et scénario: Anne-Sophie?Dutoit. Photographie (Coul./ N&B): Massimiliano Trevis. Montage: Zack Arnold. Musique: Carlos Rodriguez, Bill Civitella. Avec Anne- Sophie Dutoit, Brock Vincent Kelly, Ely Pouget, Kim Morgan Greene, Conni Marie Brazelton, Robert Sampson. 88 min.

Dans un hôpital psychiatrique de Los Angeles, Cassandra, une jeune patiente solitaire douée pour le dessin, se remémore les circonstances ayant conduit à son internement. Sept ans plus tôt, elle s’installe à Malibu avec sa tante Maggie May, une alcoolique à la recherche du grand amour. Peu après, elle fait la connaissance de Lucas, un beau jeune homme qui parvient à l'approcher malgré qu'elle soit atteinte d'une étrange phobie, celle d'être touchée. Les deux adolescents tombent amoureux mais la mère de Lucas, qui ne voit pas cette liaison d'un bon oeil, fait appel à un détective privé afin qu’il enquête sur le passé de Cassandra. Ses découvertes troublantes vont déclencher une série d'incidents tragiques.

Le film débute par un intertitre, sorte d’appel à l’indulgence, précisant qu'Anne-Sophie Dutoit a écrit ce premier long métrage à l'âge de quatorze ans et l'a réalisé deux ans plus tard. Mais les ambitions ne sauraient masquer l’inexpérience de la petite-fille de Charles Dutoit, qui a cependant su bien s’entourer sur le plan technique. Pareillement, les nombreux plans aériens sont loin de camoufler les lacunes de ce récit laborieux et larmoyant, livré avec la gaucherie d’une adolescente se confiant à son journal intime. Un geste que le personnage principal répète à plusieurs reprises à l’image. Hélas, Dutoit, qui s’est réservé le rôle, est incapable de rendre crédible son cheminement psychologique, encore moins sa folie. Les quelques effets visuels grandiloquents, les coups de théâtre ridicules et les personnages stéréotypés à l’excès finissent d’enfoncer FADED MEMORIES, au titre approprié, dans l’oubli. (André Lavoie)

Remarques : Langage cru. Violence. Situations à caractère sexuel.

Tokyo! (3)

France - Japon - Corée du Sud - Allemagne. 2008. Film à sketches. Réalisation: Michel Gondry, Léos Carax, Bong Joon- Ho. Scénario: Gabrielle Bell, Michel Gondry, d'après la bande-dessinée de G. Bell (pour le sketch «Interior Design»), L. Carax (pour le sketch «Merde»), Bong Joon- Ho (pour le sketch «Shaking Tokyo»). Photographie: Masami Inomoto, Caroline Champetier, Jun Fukumoto. Montage: Jeff Buchanan, Nelly Quettier. Musique: Étienne Charry, Lee Byung- Woo, Hasymo. Avec Ayako Fujitani, Ryo Kase, Ayumi Ito («Interior Design»), Denis Lavant, Jean- François Balmer, Renji Ishibashi («Merde»), Teruyuki Kagawa, Yu Aoi, Naoto Takenaka («Shaking Tokyo»). 107 min.

Trois histoires fantastiques qui se déroulent à Tokyo. 1. «Interior Design» : Hiriko, une jeune Japonaise de la banlieue, arrive à Tokyo avec son compagnon. Installée dans le minuscule appartement d'une amie, incapable de se trouver un emploi ou un logement, délaissée par son copain, Hiriko, qui se sent inutile, subit une transformation aussi étrange que salutaire. 2. «Merde» : Un monstre d'apparence humaine sort des égouts et terrorise les citadins. Arrêté par les autorités, défendu par un avocat français à l'allure insolite, la créature est condamnée à mort et pendue. 3. «Shaking Tokyo» : Enfermé chez lui depuis dix ans, un Japonais «hikikimori» ne communique avec l'extérieur que par téléphone. Une jolie livreuse de pizza et un tremblement de terre le forcent à quitter son refuge. Il découvre alors un Tokyo déserté.

Chaque épisode de ce triptyque insolite présente une vision personnelle de l'angoisse urbaine au coeur de la capitale nipponne. Chaque réalisateur propose une approche et un style fort différents l'un de l'autre, ce qui entraîne le spectateur dans un univers marqué par une écriture poétique et une invention visuelle constante. Le segment de Michel Gondry, «Interior Design», repose sur le jeu touchant d'Ayako Fujitani qui nous permet de croire à son étonnante mutation, bien assise sur l'efficacité et la simplicité des effets visuels typiques de l'ingéniosité de Gondry. Léos Carax, dans «Merde», pastiche les films de GODZILLA en transformant Denis Lavant en monstre aussi absurde qu'efficace, tout en attaquant de façon virulente le décorum extrême des Japonais. Dans «Shaking Tokyo», le Coréen Bong Joon-Ho?(THE HOST) nous montre une mégalopole tellement repliée sur elle-même que chaque citoyen s'isole dans son jardin intérieur. Les trois sketches se révèlent techniquement brillants et thématiquement troublants. (André Caron)

Remarques : Violences dans un contexte fantastique.

Valse avec Bachir (2)

Israël - France - Allemagne. 2008. Film d'animation. Réalisation et scénario: Ari Folman. Montage: Nili Feller. Musique: Max Richter. 87 min.

Tandis qu'il écoute le récit des cauchemars récurrents d'un ami avec qui il a fait la guerre du Liban au début des années 1980, Ari, réalisateur israélien, réalise qu'il n'a aucun souvenir de cette époque. Or, le lendemain, il est assailli par une vision: lui-même, jeune soldat, se baignant avec deux compagnons d'armes devant Beyrouth en flammes. Désireux de trouver le sens de cette image irréelle qui le hante, Ari part à la recherche de ceux qu'il a côtoyés durant cette guerre. Au fil des rencontres, remonte à sa mémoire le massacre du camp de réfugiés palestiniens de Sabra et Chatila, perpétré par des phalangistes chrétiens pour venger l'assassinat de leur leader, le président Bachir Gemayel. Mais Ari peine à se souvenir de ses faits et gestes durant ce massacre, que l'armée israélienne n'a pas cherché à empêcher.

D'une rare originalité, VALSE AVEC BACHIR fusionne de façon magistrale animation et documentaire pour illustrer une patiente quête intérieure aux données psychanalytiques fascinantes (la mémoire trouée comme mécanisme de défense, les souvenirs fabriqués de toutes pièces, etc.), doublée d'une charge antimilitariste d'une foudroyante efficacité. Les toutes dernières images, bouleversantes, à la symbolique forte, et sur lesquelles reposent tout le projet esthétique du film, resteront longtemps dans les mémoires. S'ajoutent à cela des échappées oniriques envoûtantes, sensuelles, qui témoignent d'un grand sens de la poésie chez le réalisateur Ari Folman (SAINT CLARA). Si les mouvements des personnages manquent parfois de fluidité, le film est en revanche très riche sur le plan chromatique et fort inventif dans son utilisation des différentes techniques d'animation. En outre, l'accompagnement musical, percutant, ajoute une note d'humour noir et un commentaire d'une ironie implacable à cette oeuvre dense et très dure, qui suscite autant la réflexion que l'effroi. (Louis- Paul Rioux)

Remarques : Violences guerrières. Meurtres de masse. Images de sexualité explicite.