The Tracker (2002)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Tracker (2002) – R. de Heer

Not really an allegory, despite the characters being given only labels such as The Tracker, The Fanatic, The Follower, and The Veteran, rather than names.  Instead, the film shows us the relations between a group of white men and Indigenous Australians in 1922 as a sort of microcosm or potent example of the wider relations between the invaders/colonisers and the First Peoples.  And although the prejudice and devaluation are explicit and brutal then, there can be no denying that prejudice and devaluation remain, perhaps institutionalised, perhaps living on in those who miss the White Australia policy. As the Tracker, David Gulpilil has the toughest role and plays it with great subtlety.  We see him assisting the white men (led by Gary Sweet as the Fanatic) who are hunting an Aboriginal man who has been accused of killing a white woman – and of course, we wonder what has led The Tracker to “betray” his people (which in itself is a problematic thought, since we soon can infer that the Tracker is from a different nation).  When the hunters interact with other Indigenous people, The Tracker is in the middle, perhaps feeling guilty or at least awkward.  No doubt there are strong situational forces that have put him into this position.  But after a brutal act (or multiple acts) by the Fanatic, The Tracker (as well as the Follower, Damon Gameau, and the Veteran, Grant Page) begins to distance themselves from him.  The movie continues until the Fugitive is caught and there are a number of dramatic events en route.  However, the plot itself is possibly less important to the impact of the film than other aspects:  1) the impressive landscape (always important in Aboriginal cultures); 2) the music (songs sung by Archie Roach with lyrics that comment on the characters and actions driven by almost psychedelic soulful rock); and 3) artworks (dynamic primitive paintings by Peter Coad are used to avoid presenting violence realistically) heighten the power of the film and its ability to convey its important message.  If only these lessons could be learned. 

Talk to Her (2002)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Talk to Her (2002) – P. Almodóvar

Almodóvar may be an acquired taste – his work can be filled with subtlety and humanistic questioning or it can be broad and outrageous and even crass.  His best work is unpredictable, character-driven, and thought-provoking, even when leavened with comedy. Talk to Her finds Almodóvar in serious mode, following two men who care for women in comas and charting their developing relationship.  He tracks backward to show us events in their lives that led them to their current present day situation (including information that might ordinarily reduce our sympathy – but somehow not here).  Then he allows the narrative to move forward to a somewhat shocking climax (Almodóvar is never one to shy away from melodrama) and a fanciful abrupt denouement.  Along the way, the director includes a surreal “silent film” excerpt that sees a shrinking man climb into a giant vagina.  Well, you can’t be serious all the time. He also shows us the similarities between ballet and bullfighting (copping some flak for emphasising the latter), with a guest role for Geraldine Chaplin as a dance instructor.  Despite the sometimes jarring changes in tone, everything holds together and the resulting feeling is that we have been exposed to real life in all of its sometimes problematic weirdness, sadness and joy. Digging a little deeper, it seems clear that Almodóvar is also raising some questions about male-female relationships where the "perfect" relationship for one man is when the woman is powerless. The powerful woman just happens to be afraid of "snakes" and might be willfully trying to escape a relationship where the man "talks AT her" rather than "to" her . More here than at first glance...

  

Sweet Sixteen (2002)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Sweet Sixteen (2002) – K. Loach

Ken Loach makes social realist films, similar to the Dardennes Brothers from Belgium, but he has been at it for a lot longer (his 1969 film, Kes, is a real tearjerker about a poor boy whose falcon becomes the only thing that makes life worth living).  Jonathan Rosenbaum refers to these films as “social deterministic” and I suppose they do point to poverty and its ill effects as causal factors – or at least constraints – that lead to all the sad and bad outcomes that his characters face.  In Sweet Sixteen, newcomer Martin Compston plays Liam, a teen with an unstable family life in Greenock, Scotland (subtitles are required).  His mum is in prison and her boyfriend is a vicious drug dealer aided by Liam’s own grand-dad.  His sister is estranged from the family and is a single teen mum herself.  After a row, Liam leaves to join his sis and optimistically plans a future where he can live with his mum in a caravan overlooking the scenic River Clyde.  This takes money so he and a friend steal drugs (from his mum’s boyfriend) and begin dealing, eventually catching the eye of the local drug kingpin, who signs them up for bigger things.  Compston’s portrayal of Liam is exhilarating – he is full of energy and laughter and basically fearless, getting into a lot of scrapes and earning a few hard knocks.  However, despite his optimism and positivity about the future, we know that this is not the kind of enterprise that leads to good things and this is not the sort of movie where things work out.  Loach (and screenwriter Paul Laverty, who also co-wrote Loach’s most recent hit, I Daniel Blake, 2016) has a different message to convey.  But he does it with a true affection for his characters and sympathy for their plight and their often fruitless and frustrated attempts to deal with it.

  

Accattone (1961)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Accattone (1961) – P. P. Pasolini

Pasolini’s first film as a director; he was previously a poet, writer, and screenwriter; for example, of Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria (1957).  Similar to that earlier film, Accattone focuses on people living on the lower rungs of society’s ladder, but it isn’t quite neo-realism.  Instead, Pasolini’s film has a lyrical and intense quality (and a startling dream sequence) that brings it closer to the films of the arthouse masters (Bergman comes to mind).  Accatone himself (a charismatic Franco Citti) is a scumbag, convincing girls to become prostitutes because he doesn’t want to work himself (his nickname equates to beggar/exploiter/freeloader).  But Pasolini doesn’t want to judge him – he shows us Accatone’s tender side as well as his weaknesses.  We see him try honest physical labour for pay (and give up on it straightaway).  In his context, a bunch of shiftless guys on the street, some thieves, mostly the idle poor, he is the class clown, the butt of all jokes -- and he seems to relish it.  Despite (or because of) the seediness of the milieu and the transgressive acts on display, the film is mesmerizing and probably shocking for its time (although Pasolini would shock even more in his later films).  The cinematography by Tonino Delli Colli is beautiful (though the environs are not); the actors often look straight into the camera offering beautiful portraits for the viewer.  In the end, this heightens our sympathy for those who are barely scraping by (and nevertheless often enjoying themselves) in line with Pasolini’s Marxist philosophy.  A great debut.

Foreign Correspondent (1940)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Foreign Correspondent (1940) – A. Hitchcock

Alfred Hitchcock’s second American picture (just after the Oscar-winning Rebecca, also 1940) is more of a thriller in line with his best British films (The 39 Steps, 1935; The Lady Vanishes, 1938) – which means there is a MacGuffin (the secret clause in the treaty between Holland and Belgium that relates to what happens if they are invaded by the Nazis) and everyone is trying to find it or to prevent someone from finding it.  In this case, the secret clause is known by Mr. Van Meer, a Dutch diplomat, who is variously kidnapped or shot dead by those who wish to disrupt any peace process.  Joel McCrea is the newspaper reporter of the title, sent to Europe to interview Van Meer and to get a story.  He falls in with the leader of an organisation pushing for peace, led by Herbert Marshall, and falls in love with Marshall’s daughter, played by Laraine Day.  George Sanders (also in Rebecca) is on hand as a rival reporter who supports McCrea in tracking down the villains who have kidnapped Van Meer.  Of course, Hitchcock uses all of his powers to make this adventure an exciting one, creating suspense and excitement, even while offering next to no detail about the MacGuffin (his own term for the thing that drives the plot dynamics).  He gives us the clichés about Holland – windmills chiefly (but with a few mentions of cheese) and when the setting moves to England, he pokes a bit of fun at his own culture too.  McCrea is likeable as always and, although a bit of a dolt at times, he manages to be in the right place at the right time to deliver the happy ending required.  Hitch dazzles with a tremendous airplane crash, as well as a few other set-pieces (those umbrellas in the rain); he’s already a master of his craft by this point in his career.  The ending, a monologue by McCrea seeking to encourage Americans to get involved in the War, was tacked on afterward, just before release and just around the time the Nazis started bombing London.  A real period piece, then, and while not in the highest echelon of Hitch’s films, still very enjoyable and worth your time.

  

Calendar (1993)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Calendar (1993) – A. Egoyan

Armenian-Canadian director Atom Egoyan (known for Exotica, 1994, and The Sweet Hereafter, 1997) here explores ethnic identity in the context of interpersonal relationships – but he does it very obliquely, to be sure.  Egoyan himself plays a photographer hired to shoot a calendar’s worth of pictures of ancient churches in Armenia.  He brings his Armenian wife along to translate (for he, himself, has assimilated to Canadian culture and can’t speak the native tongue).  Their driver (Ashot Adamyan), cum guide, an Armenian national, interacts exclusively with the wife (Arsinée Khanjian, Egoyan’s real wife).  This sets up a certain tension between husband and wife, as Egoyan begins to get jealous and petulant (offscreen).  But the scenes of the calendar shoot in Armenia are interspersed with videotape, presumably shot on the trip, being rewatched by Egoyan at some future point (and sometimes rewound or fast forwarded), always with Arsinée as the main focus.  Some answering machine messages start to piece together what this future entails – husband and wife are separated with Arsinée still in Armenia, possibly with their guide.  Another sequence of shots shows Egoyan eating dinner with a succession of beautiful ethnic women who each abruptly ask to use the telephone, leaving Egoyan at the table, drinking wine and eventually writing letters to his wife.  The answering machine again reveals that these women may be actresses auditioning for Egoyan rather than dates.  So, this is largely an experimental feature (at only 73 minutes) with some cognition required to uncover its themes and meaning. To the extent that Armenian identity is what joins and separates the three main characters, this is a very modern and relevant film.  What does it mean to be from somewhere, if you have never learned (or at least not maintained) that place’s language, norms, or culture?  At a base level, this seems inauthentic.  Yet, others may still treat you as a member of that cultural group, for better or for worse.  Egoyan’s film only scratches the surface of these complexities, although its mysteries may reward further scrutiny.

  

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017) – R. Johnson

At this point in the saga’s development, Star Wars fans have learned to extract the good bits from each film and to overlook missteps and excesses.  That is, I’m not sure anyone is wholeheartedly accepting all of the directorial or production choices in each film anymore.  (But I say that still not having seen Revenge of the Sith, 2005).  Rian Johnson (who made a promising directorial debut with teen noir, Brick, 2005) guides the franchise’s renewal here, focusing attention on Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) after the previous film zoomed in on Han Solo.  Princess Leia, er General Organa, also stars – in a part shot just before Carrie Fisher’s death.  We pick up where we left off with new heroine Rey (Daisy Ridley) on planet Ahch-To (Ireland’s beautiful Skellig Michael Island) as she approaches Luke to return to the Resistance, to rejuvenate the Jedi religion, and to take on the First Order, led by supreme leader Snoke and Han Solo & Leia’s son Ben (Adam Driver), now turned to the dark side of the Force and called Kylo Ren.  Meanwhile, the rebel fleet is being attacked by the First Order’s battleships and might soon be completely wiped out, if a crazy plan involving a casino at Canto Bight doesn’t come off (John Boyega and Kelly Marie Tran star in this sequence with Benicio del Toro as a shifty ally).  As promised, there is a lot of action (with Oscar Isaac returning as fighter pilot Poe Dameron and Laura Dern joining as a Vice Admiral) and things do blow up and light sabres do get to thrusting and slicing.  Johnson’s production design is splendid, whether CGI or not, with color-matched costumes and widescreen interstellar backgrounds.  The Jedi “tree” is a nice touch (and the scene in which it features contains another treat for the older generation).  But the film does seem to drag on and there are times when it gets exposition-heavy (explaining the relationship between Luke and Kylo Ren) and some plot developments feel “unearned”.  But as I said, Star Wars fans have learned to overlook some things (and fortunately the porg aren’t as intrusively cute as the ewoks before them).  All told, an enjoyable return to this universe – but it is hard to say where Episode IX could go.