Before the Rain (1994)
Directed by Milcho Manchevski
* * * ½
Before the Rain recalls a time of political unrest in Macedonia via
three intertwined stories. The first chapter, “Words”, follows Kiril (Gregoire
Colin), a young monk who has taken a vow of silence. His life becomes
complicated when Zamira (Labina Mitevska) stumbles into his life, begging him
to keep her presence a secret. As events unfold, she is being hunted down after
allegedly murdering a local. “Faces”, the second chapter, takes us to London
and Anna’s (Katrin Cartlidge) torn feelings between her husband and Aleksandar,
a war photographer. In “Pictures”, the final act, Aleksandar is further
explored in his return to war-torn Macedonia.
In spite of an Oscar
nomination for Best Foreign Picture and seemingly widespread acclaim, this is a
tremendously overlooked movie. In all fairness, perhaps it’s because it deals
with an issue – the Balkan conflict – that doesn’t have much significance
outside of its respective region. I must admit that I had no knowledge of this
point in history, and while my lack of perspective might have impacted my
thoughts on the movie, I still found myself really into it nonetheless. All
three stories are incredibly gripping. The photography of Macedonia’s hilly
countryside are captured beautifully (I’m honestly stunned at the lack of a
Best Cinematography nomination), and don’t forget Anastasia’s terrific score
for the movie.
I’ve already mentioned that my
lack of knowledge on this particular issue may
have impacted my appreciation for the movie. The one thing that did impact my
thoughts, I just can’t help but feel like we didn’t get to spend enough time in
any of these chapters. These are all gripping stories with fascinating
characters that we all care for (especially in the first chapter). It’s not
that they’re not well paced or anything, it just feels like they’re just too short (the Katrin
Cartlidge-driven centerpiece is almost insultingly short) – all three of these
chapters could have feature films around them. I digress, though. As underrated
and overlooked as Before the Rain is,
it’s really worth checking out.
My Life as a Dog (1985)
Directed by Lasse Hallstrom
* * * *
With his ailing and bed-ridden
mother unable to care for both him and his troublesome older brother,
12-year-old Ingemar (Anton Glanzelius) is sent to stay with his uncle Gunnar
(Tomas von Bromssen) in a small countryside town. Though this new life takes
some adjusting, Ingemar seems to find himself right at home as he mingles with
the town’s many eccentric yet warmhearted townsfolk – he finds himself becoming
particularly close with Saga (Melinda Kinnaman), a tomboyish girl with a
passion for boxing. Though things become more and more grim for his mother,
Ingemar’s narration proves himself to be quite the optimist, always aware it
could be worse.
I was originally planning on
giving this movie a 3.5, but as I sat here writing and thinking about My Life as a Dog, I bumped it up to a 4.
I simply cannot think of anything glaringly wrong, even in the slightest. On a
plot level, yeah, it sounds more or less like a typical coming of age film (and
I do admit I have a huge soft-spot for films like these), but Hallstrom
captures the transition from childhood to adolescence beautifully through a combination of wonderful performances (particularly
from Glanzelius and the exceptionally charming Kinnaman), its depiction of
quirky everyday folk, and its balance in tone, which is perfect – it knows when
to be warm, when to be funny, when to be sad, and so on.
Doing light research on the
film, I discovered that My Life as a Dog was
nominated for two Oscars, one of which was Best Adapted Screenplay. This
nomination is fully deserved, and it’s all because of the dynamic between
Ingemar and Saga, two pre-teens coming of age together and discovering feelings
totally foreign to them – their friendship is truly something magical. While
I’m not sure if this qualifies for my Great Favorites yet, I still can’t think
of anything glaringly wrong with this movie. It’s near-perfect, if not totally
perfect.
Personal Shopper (2016)
Directed by Olivier Assayas
* * *
Some time ago, Maureen
(Kristen Stewart) and her brother, Lewis, once made a pact that when one of
them dies before the other, they will keep in touch with their living sibling
by way of paranormal means. Well, Lewis has passed, and a silent yet
grief-stricken Maureen is hell-bent on receiving some sort of sign from her
late brother’s spirit. In the meantime, she works as a personal shopper for
Kyra (Nora von Waldstatten), where Maureen seems to exist as a ghost of sorts
as she runs Kyra’s various shopping errands without any significant
acknowledgement of her employer. Things take a strange turn when Maureen begins
receiving strange texts from an unknown number, texts from somebody claiming to
know her and following her every move. A stalker? Perhaps the paranormal sign
that she’s been waiting for?
With the exception of the
flawed yet otherwise terrific and underrated Clean, Assayas doesn’t have the best track record in my book. His
previous collaboration with Stewart, Clouds
of Sils Maria, is no exception – along with never once engaging me, I do
not remember a single thing about it. And now we have Personal Shopper, a film that I wasn’t too keen on seeing, but one
I knew I’d have to face due to its overwhelming hype last year. While I can’t
say it lived up to the hype (which I was expecting), I must say that Personal Shopper sucked me in. While not
horrifying, per se, this is a film that haunts you while you watch it and will
continue to do so after it’s over, helped by an enigmatic quality that
sometimes indulges too much in arbitrary obscurity, but otherwise adds to the
haunting mystery of the story – I never thought a text conversation (of all
things) could be as tense and gripping as depicted here.
Of course, we have to address
Kristen Stewart. Her name alone will induce some eye-rolling from her Twilight reputation, but she captures
grief and loss terrifically in a very reserved and subtle manner – we can read
her every emotion and thought without her having to vocalize those emotions.
Though I can’t find too much to complain about with Personal Shopper, and while it did hook me, it still never affected
me as much as it did many others. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet, but
there’s so much to take in with this movie. A subsequent watch might clarify my
opinions a bit more, but overall, I didn’t love it, but I did like it. Consider
double-featuring it with A Ghost Story.
A Taste of Honey (1961)
Directed by Tony Richardson
* * * ½
Jo (Rita Tushingham) is a
teenager in Greater Manchester, confined in a microscopic flat with her mother,
Helen (Dora Bryan). Helen is selfish and irresponsible, taking frivolous nights
out with various men over her maternal duties – she eventually marries Peter
(Robert Stephens), who later turns out to be a drunken louse. Though Jo doesn’t
find much love at home, she finds love from Jimmy (Paul Danquah), a young
sailor. They strike a relationship, but it doesn’t last long when he has to
leave port for a while. At this point, though she is seemingly without a
support system, Jo perseveres onward when she lands a job at a shoe shop, but it
gets complicated when she discovers she is carrying Jimmy’s child.
One of my favorite films from
the previous decade was Fish Tank,
particularly because of the fascinating mother-daughter dynamic. Because of
this, I was right at home with A Taste of
Honey, which is quite, dare I say, shocking for its time. Granted, it’s not
vulgar or gratuitous, but it seems so rare for films this old to deal with such
domestic claustrophobia on this heightened a level (then again, this is one of
the defining characteristics of British “Kitchen Sink” Realism, so maybe I’m
being a bit too generous). Both Tushingham and Bryan are terrific, the former
especially, who is quite charming. I also loved the curious beauty that the
film captured in Greater Manchester’s worn industrial-urban environment.
A Taste of Honey is based on a play of the same name by Shelagh
Delaney (who also co-wrote the script), and the stage quality is very present here, perhaps a bit too
present. As much as I loved how the environments were filmed, I still felt more
like I was watching a play rather than a film most of the time. This is already
problematic, but it becomes even more so when the script feels the need to
vocalize the feelings and psyches when the film could have easily conveyed
those same things without a single word spoken (one of the many magical
qualities of the art form). Also, as much as I enjoyed watching the movie, it
kind of felt like it came and went when it was over, kind of like “Wait; that
was it?” But, then again, maybe that’s because I was so involved in it that I
didn’t notice an hour and some-40 minutes had passed. Consider that a
compliment, because this is riveting slice-of-life drama.
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