The Holdovers (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Holdovers (2023) – A. Payne

Director Alexander Payne and actor Paul Giamatti previously teamed up for Sideways (2004) where the actor played a similarly bummed out but know-it-all character touring California’s wine country. Here, decades later, he’s the misanthropic classics-spouting history teacher, unloved by students and colleagues alike, stuck baby-sitting students whose parents left them at boarding school over the 1970 Christmas break.  Payne and screenwriter David Hemingson do a wonderful job fleshing out the characters of those stuck at Barton School which also include Da'Vine Joy Randolph’s school cook Mary Lamb and Dominic Sessa’s troubled student Angus Tully.  As in Payne’s other films, the film advances via humorous episodes (a sporting accident, a Christmas party, a trip to Boston) and the characters’ relationships with each other deepen and they learn something about themselves too.  But Payne avoids the saccharine by ensuring that the proceedings are adult and authentic feeling.  He (and his team) also captures the time-period not only with perfect set-decoration/art-direction/cinematography (think The Paper Chase) but also in the social, race, and class relations depicted (amiably defiant of norms in some cases perhaps).  Bittersweet is the dominant flavour here but that’s not to say that your heart won’t also be warmed. So good.    

 

Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Anatomy of a Fall (2023) – J. Triet

Having just watched Anatomy of a Murder (1959) with my Dad, I can definitely see the family resemblance with Justine Triet’s Oscar-winning Anatomy of a Fall.  Both films deconstruct a central death with exacting forensic/clinical investigations leading to high-profile court cases with fallible defendants (Ben Gazzara in the older film, Sandra Hüller in the newer one).  They differ in the way that Otto Preminger focused more on Jimmy Stewart’s lawyer, whereas Triet honed in on the relationship between Hüller’s Sandra Voyter and her blind son Daniel (Milo Machado-Graner) who is the sole witness able to tell the court whether his father was killed by his mother.  Court cases in France do not seem to follow the same rules as those in America, with the defendant (as well as the defense team) freely interjecting (and/or being asked to comment) while the prosecutor questions witnesses. Evidence mounts and seemingly supports a strong case against the defendant – or does it? Hüller, who was so good in Toni Erdmann (2016), is fascinating here, ably allowing us to doubt her while remaining hopeful that she didn’t do it.  Absorbing throughout. It won the Palme d’Or at Cannes.

Perfect Days (2023)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Perfect Days (2023) – W. Wenders

Japan’s entry for the Best International Oscar was their first directed by a foreigner, in this case, Wim Wenders (Wings of Desire, 1987).  Koji Yakusho (Cure, 1997; Shall We Dance, 1996) won Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival in 2023 for this film.  He plays a cleaner for The Tokyo Toilet company who services restrooms in the Shibuya area. But these are no ordinary toilets!  The film’s idea itself apparently originated with these architect-designed toilet blocks that were created for the 2020 Olympics – after the pandemic overshadowed everything, the feeling was that the toilets did not get enough attention.  So, a commission was offered to create a documentary to highlight their uniqueness, but when Wim Wenders won, he decided to create a fiction film instead. (Wise choice).  We follow Yakusho’s daily routine in detail and learn that it rarely changes.  He is a man who clearly takes pleasure in the simple things of life and is conscientious about his work and his life. He also listens to cassette tapes of sixties music and reads classic novels.  He has a particular interest in photographing trees (or one particular tree).  Wenders takes a minimalist approach (this is slow cinema) with some experimental flourishes to represent the dreams of Hirayama (Yakusho), which unfold like abstract shadow plays. Gradually, we learn more about Hirayama as a result of his interactions with other people (although his routine shows him to be a loner who barely speaks). There is a mystery of sorts here although many will feel the movie to be virtually plotless. The final shot (or nearly final shot) is likely to be the one that garnered Yakusho his acting awards and Wenders holds it long enough for us to ponder the character’s motivation and emotions. After the credits, Wenders offers an insight that unlocked the film for me:  "‘KOMOREBI’ is the Japanese word for the shimmering of light and shadows that is created by leaves swaying in the wind. It only exists once, at that moment.”  I’m pleased to see Wenders’ success after a number of years when his documentaries outshone his narrative films. Highly recommended.  

Monster (2023)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Monster (2023) – H. Kore-eda

I’ve been following director Hirokazu Kore-eda since I first caught After Life (1998) randomly in London in 1999 (and soon after found his breakthrough film Maborosi, 1995, on VHS). He is probably best known now for Shoplifters (2018) which won the Palme d’Or at Cannes that year. He’s become an expert at the shomin-geki (family drama, or “common people” drama). In many ways, Monster, Kore-eda’s return to Japanese film-making after stints in France and Korea, falls into this genre too (but may also represent the classic coming-of-age story).  We begin by following Sakura Ando’s single mother who becomes increasingly concerned with the experiences of her son Minato (Soya Kurokawa) at primary school when he comes home with a bloody nose and hurt ear.  He tells her that the teacher hit him and called him “Pig Brain”.  She confronts the principal who instructs the teacher to make a formal apology to the parent, but without quite admitting everything.  This agitates the mum who takes legal action against the school.  But the truth is not so simple (as is often the case in Kore-eda’s films) and we are subsequently treated to two more versions of events before settling in to see things from Minato’s point of view. Without giving too much away, let’s just say that the film transforms into a story about societal norms, constraints, and prejudices – the way some people may be seen as monsters and may even self-stigmatise themselves as monsters. But freed from these shackles, in a separate reality, love can prosper. Although ultimately the film decides to move on from its promise of a Rashomon-styled tale of subjective perceptions, the resulting focus on primary human relationships (despite verging on the overly sentimental) offers a triumphant conclusion. Unfortunately, the world we know may not allow this euphoria to be sustained.