Monday, 25 July 2011

LALIFF 2011: ESCRIBEME POSTALES A COPACABANA

A scene from Escribeme Postales A Copacabana.
Taking flight


The bond of true love is the theme of much of Escribeme Postales A Copacabana (Write Me – Postcards to Copacabana), a Bolivian-German co-production helmed by Thomas Kronthaler and scripted by Stefanie Kremser.

Shot at and set near Lake Titicaca in Bolivia, the lovely, lushly visual Escribeme Postales A Copacabana has a charming cross-cultural, magical realist sensibility. The backdrop is a long ago love affair between a Bavarian man and Bolivian woman who wed and share life together in South America.

Now a grandmother, Elena (Agar Antequera) remembers her late German husband (no, not a Nazi on the lam) and frets over fatherless granddaughter Alfonsina (Julia Hernandez) as she comes of age and begins to search for true love. The beauty of Alfonsina’s widowed, flight attendant mother Rosa (played by the preternaturally sexy Cochabambina actress, Carla Ortiz) complicates her love life, as it attracts men who may not have honorable intentions, as she seeks a mate following the death of her pilot husband.   

This is very much a chick flick the males of the species can enjoy, too – especially its sumptuous cinematography amidst Bolivian vistas and its movie magical realism. The meaning of the title, which I won’t reveal here, is amusing, as a small town girl ponders a wide world beyond Bolivia.

LALIFF 2011: LOS 100 SONES CUBANOS

 Roberto Garcia in Los 100 Sonos Cubanos.
Sound of ages

By Ed Rampell

The documentary, Los 100 Sones Cubanos, is one of those rare works of art that simply makes you feel glad to be alive, if for no reason other than to be able to behold experiences like watching it. Los 100 Sones Cubanos is about a “beloved genre” of distinctly, endemically Cuban music, with origins stretching back to the Bantus in Africa, Spaniards in Andalusia, and the Canary Islands -- and can these songbirds warble like canaries. Musicians use instruments ranging from bungas (tree trunks covered with deerskin) to bamboo sticks to organs “tropicalized” by Cuban maestros from the Sierra Maestra Mountains and beyond.

In Los 100 Sones Cubanos writers-directors Edesio Alejandro and Ruben Consuegra are more successful as the Los 100 Sones Cubanos form of musical expression, rather than a musician per se, serves as the protagonist, moving the storyline along, as the filmmakers travel around Cuba filming a variety bands and singers who specialize in this music. Along the way we encounter astute, highly educated Cuban pop culture-ologists who tell us about the music, claiming that mambo, cha-cha and more are derived from Los 100 Sones Cubanos

Man (and woman!) in the street interviews provide some comic relief, even as they reveal the soul of an animated, attuned, aware people. Among the musicians we meet are Benny Villay, whose duds are a cross between Zoot suit and cowboy couture, and who croons (among other things) songs made famous by Benny More (whom a Cuban biopic, El Benny, was made in 2006). But my favorite crooner is 92-year-old Don Eduardo, who actually puts maracas in the back of his shoes in order to enhance the beat. 

Los 100 Sones Cubanos serves to remind us about the major impact on and contribution to world music Cuban sounds have made. 

Sunday, 24 July 2011

FILM REVIEW: FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

A scene from Friends with Benefits.
Marital parachute


As if revenge for losing the Swan Queen character to Natalie Portman's Nina in Black Swan, Mila Kunis one-ups Portman's role as Emma in No Strings Attached with Friends with Benefits. At least that is the word around Tinseltown (in Austin). Though I like Portman, I have avoided No Strings Attached with her portrayal as Jamie in like a STD because I do not want to watch her makin' whoopee with co-star Ashton Kutcher. (Maybe it is unbridled jealousy, but I do not find them to be a likely pair.) Kunis and co-star Justin Timberlake, however, seem like they would be a more likely (and likable pair), and I guess they are.

Jamie (Kunis), a Manhattan headhunter, has placed Dylan (Timberlake) in a high-profile position as Art Director forGQ magazine. While cozily watching Jamie's favorite movie -- a film-within-a-film rom-com with a satirically amped-up cheese factor -- like BFFs, the emotionally psychotic Jamie and the emotionally vacant Dylan decide that sex can be just like...um...tennis? Tennis is a recreational sport enjoyed among friends who cordially shake hands at the end of the match and then go their separate ways; surely sex among two impeccably beautiful Hollywood stars can be enjoyed as a recreational sport as well. Jamie and Dylan give it a go and the experiment goes well at first. The pair are able to communicate their sexual likes and dislikes in bed and fulfill each other's desires to the rhythm of Dylan's repeated sneezes. (Note: Dylan sneezes whenever he ejaculates.)

Eventually, though, all of their repressed emotional baggage bubbles to the surface, thus disproving their theory that friends who sneeze together can remain just tennis buddies. If Jamie and Dylan cannot pull off this experiment, where does that leave the rest of us horny Americans? Well, it looks like heterosexual marriage truly is our only road to eternal salvation. Thank God! And thank you, Jamie and Dylan, for taking one for the team so that no other God fearing Americans will need to go down the dastardly rabbit hole of emotionless sex.

Two films in one calendar year (three if you include November 2010's Love and Other Drugs with Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway) about loveless fuck buddies must mean something about our modern society, or at least there will be plenty of bible-thumpers who will say so. Of course if the bible-thumpers would just sit down and watch Friends with Benefits, they would realize that Friends with Benefits redeems itself in God's eyes (well, at least a God who is not opposed to premarital sex) by the closing credits.

Despite the manic meta-ness of its first half, the second half of Friends with Benefits shamelessly relies on all of the very same rom-com genre tropes that the film had just hysterically satirized. As with Easy A, writer-director Will Gluck's previous film, the wink-wink-nudge-nudge Gen-X quotation marks of Friends with Benefits are exclaimed ad nauseum. Gluck's hyperactive propensity for pop culture references (flashmobs, iPads, T-mobile, Harry Potter, John Mayer, Third Eye Blind, Criss Cross, etc.) would be much funnier if he could utilize them with more restraint. Instead he leaves the valve wide open, thus drowning the audience in what could have been some really funny stuff. Besides, by eventually embracing all the clichés that Friends with Benefits so manically attempts to deconstruct, Gluck is essentially saying that all of the jokes from the first half of the film were for naught.

Friends with Benefits also seems intent on making excuses for Jamie and Dylan's lack of sexual morality. One look at Jamie's boozy and slutty single mother (Patricia Clarkson) and we know that Jamie inherited her sexual prowess (yet no physical traits) from this woman; and in a continuance of the cinematic device of characters being defined by the films they watch, Jamie's mother watches Paul Mazursky's Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice. The reckless promiscuity of Jamie's mother has also forever blurred Jamie's ethnic identity -- she has no idea who her father is, therefore Jamie does not know her own ethnic background.

Dylan's father (Richard Jenkins) is mentally wasting away due to Alzheimer’s -- though he does enjoy some suddenly lucid flourishes during which he is able to deliver crucial motivational monologues to Dylan -- and Dylan feels guilty for leaving his father in the sole care of his sister (Jenna Elfman) in Los Angeles. Dylan's estranged mother divorced his father ten years ago, abandoning their family in a time of need, resulting in abandonment and commitment issues for Dylan.

Dylan is also riddled by fears of being presumed gay. His ex-girlfriend (Emma Stone) thinks he likes a finger up his ass during sex; Dylan feels "emasculated" when Jamie is on top of him in bed; and, a sure-fire sign of gayness (at least according to Friends with Benefits), Dylan likes Harry Potter. Dylan's fears are then magnified tenfold when his gay co-worker (Woody Harrelson) suggests that they go "trolling for cock" together. The only good that could possibly come out of all of the gay jokes is if you turn this into a drinking game, slurping one down every time the word "gay" is used in relation to Dylan's sexuality.

Friday, 22 July 2011

LALIFF 2011: CHICO & RITA

A scene from Chico Y Rita.
True-ba-loney


Chico & Rita is another Cuban-music themed film, although it is actually an animated feature, not a doc, co-directed/co-written by Spanish filmmaker Fernando Trueba (director of 1992’s Belle Epoque starring Penelope Cruz).

Chico & Rita's animation is stellar, vividly bringing to life the Havana, Manhattan, Paris and Las Vegas of the 1940s/1950s. The music, too, makes this film worth seeing. However, the script leaves much to be desired. The Havana of bygone days looks glamorous, especially in comparison to today’s Cuban capital, which looks drab and shabby. Well, half a century of embargo may or may not do that to you, but the film's Havana of yesterday is largely devoid of that grinding poverty that inspired, oh you know, that little thing we call “revolution.” It wasn’t all mambo and showgirls under Cuban dictator and U.S. puppet Fulgencio Batista, don’tchaknow?

The love story between a pianist and singer is also remarkably stupid and senseless, full of celluloid stereotypes and completely absent of the sense of the ongoing bond a romantic relationship can generate between two people. The movie’s notion of love is, well, cartoonish; there’s a big difference between true, lasting love and obsession, don’tchaknow? 

But again, having said this, if you can overlook these points Chico & Rita is a fiesta for the eyes and ears, with some of the most compelling cartoon, animated erotic imagery since R. Crumb and Ralph Bakshi’s 1972 Fritz the Cat.  

Thursday, 21 July 2011

LALIFF 2011: AMERICA

Rosalinda (Talia Rothenberg) America (Lymari Nadal) in America.
Enough abuse toward women

By Miranda Inganni

Sonia Fritz's America starts off proving that ugly things do indeed happen to beautiful people (in beautiful places) as our lead, America (Lymari Nadal), is abused by her husband, Correa (Yancy Arias) in Puerto Rico. Their fourteen-year-old daughter, Rosalinda (Talia Rothenberg) has run away to be with the love of her life and Correa blames America for allowing Rosalinda to repeat the same mistake that America made -- although Rosalinda is not pregnant.

As a result, America is forced to flee by herself to New York, where her stepfather, Irvin (LALIFF co-founder Edward James Olmos), has secured her a nanny job. While America has work and family, she bonds with other foreign nannies, who are only too happy to remind her that she has it easy as she's an American citizen. And it's true. Being from Puerto Rico, America can work and live legally in the United States while her gal pals often fear deportation.

America, unfortunately, cannot decide if it is a part-time thriller, comedic romance, ode to the love (and strife) families endure, or an homage to self-reinvention, opportunity and the US. Additionally, some of the characters, especially Correa, come across as caricatures. "See what you provoke me to do?" asks Correa to America after he beats her and "Do what you do best," when he wants her to mouth his member. Oh, she mouths off on it all right.

Despite the film's typical, thriller-esque music and poor direction, some of America's merit rests in its portrayal of strong, righteous women helping each other overcome terrible obstacles.


Tuesday, 19 July 2011

LALIFF 2011: THE LIFE OF FISH


Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) in The Life of Fish.
Chile, mon amour


Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) is a 30-something Chilean-born travel writer who now finds himself based in Berlin. Back in Santiago after being away for 10 years, Andrés has returned to the city of his youth long enough to take care of some personal business, including dropping by a birthday party. While his friends are all married with children, they attack (if not partially out of jealousy) Andrés’ free-wheeling bachelorhood. A constant analogy that other characters make is that Andrés has lived his entire life like a tourist or day-tripper, never becoming too attached to his surroundings; but other than his career’s inherent allusion of freedom, Andrés does not seem too keen on living his life in airports, airplanes and hotels.

It soon becomes apparent that Andrés left something — specifically someone — behind when he moved away from Santiago 10 years ago. That certain someone is Bea (Blanca Lewin), who has since moved on with her life. But eventually, Andrés and Bea start talking about what might have been. The discussion progresses to a point that Bea appears to be considering running off to Berlin with Andrés, but to tell you anything more would be spoiling way too much.

Filmed in one location — a single family home in Santiago — The Life of Fish apparently adopts its title from the fish tanks that the camera often finds itself peering through. The characters are perceived to be caged specimens, trapped on the silver screen with the audience watching and listening to even their most intimate discussions. This is where writer-director Matías Bize truly succeeds, as the scenarios play out like home movies with extremely natural dialogue and actions. Bize also seems to specialize in frank discussions about sex — or at least “mature situations”, as the MPAA would deem them. Come to think of it, to call Bize the Chilean Joe Swanberg would probably not be too far of a stretch.

Unfortunately, there is just something about the production values of The Life of Fish — the cinematography and/or lighting, as well as the sound recording — that just screams Latin American soap opera to me. That said, this Chilean Oscar entry for Best Film in a Foreign Language is definitely the best Latin American soap opera I have ever watched. Admittedly, my enjoyment is at least partially related to the similarities (purely non-physical) between myself and Andrés.

Monday, 18 July 2011

LALIFF 2011: CUBAN FILMS

A scene from Chico & Rita.
Cubatopia


The 15th annual Los Angeles Latino International Film Festival is taking place in Hollywood through July 25, and the Hispanic-oriented film fete is screening a number of Cuban features and documentaries this year. They include: The nonfiction works Los 100 Sones Cubanos (100 Cuban Songs); the nonfiction, hip-hop themed Revolution about El Band Aldo, which, according to LALIFF, is censored in Cuba; the surfing doc, Havana Surf; the animated feature with music, Chico & Rita; and Boleto a Paraiso (Ticket to Paradise).

Director/co-writer Gerardo Chijona’s unforgettable, riveting Ticket to Paradise helps to redefine so-called “socialist realism,” which, under the Stalinists, was often neither “socialist” nor “realist,” but frequently propagandistic in the crudest sense Instead of brawny proletarians and peasants riding shiny tractors in a workers’ paradise, viewers of the ironically named Ticket to Paradise will see images of: AIDS, prostitution, drug use, suicide, sexual abuse/ incest, crime, homosexuality, graphic nudity, sex acts, homelessness, dumpster diving, alienated youth, underground heavy metal concerts, Cuba’s counterculture, etc.

The feature is set during the 1990s’ so-called “Special Period,” after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Although Cuba lost its greatest economic supporters, Havana’s U.S.S.R. and Comecon East Bloc allies, the socialist David still had to contend with that Yanqui Goliath only 90 miles away. 

A Spanish-Cuban co-production made with the participation of the official ICAIC (Instituto Cubano del Arte y la Industria Cinematográficos), Ticket to Paradise is far more hard hitting than any Hollywood, theatrically released feature dealing with AIDS, teen sexuality, etc., I can think of, including 2003’s powerful Thirteen, starring Holly Hunter as a beleaguered mom of a teen gone wild. 

If there is a propagandistic element to the frank Ticket to Paradise it could be in the depiction of these excellent medical facilities, with their motivated, benevolent doctors and nurses, which reminded me of the New Deal camp the Joad family visited in the 1940 John Ford classic, The Grapes of Wrath. Even during the severe deprivations during the depths of the Special Period revolutionary Cubans somehow provided free healthcare for the least of those amongst them -- something bourgeois America has yet to do.

The ensemble cast delivers powerhouse performances, notably Miriel Cejas as Eunice, the runaway teen sexually molested by her father, and her longhaired boyfriend Alejandro (Hector Medina). Chijona deftly directs them and has created a searing cinematic work reminiscent and in the best tradition of the self critical trend of Cuban cinema, as exemplified by Tomas Gutierrez Alea’s 1968 classic, Memories of Underdevelopment. Like his motion picture predecessor, Chijona has made a most memorable movie, one that further develops, refines and redefines socialist realism.

Hopefully, the senseless 50-year-old blockade and embargoof Cuba will end soon so, among many other reasons, American moviegoers can have the right to buy tickets to see more great films, like Ticket to Paradise.  

  








  


 




Friday, 8 July 2011

FILM REVIEW: PROJECT NIM

Nim Chimpsky in Project Nim.
Chimp pimp

 
Project Nim commenced in 1973, when Columbia University psychology professor Herbert Terrace launched a study to determine if chimpanzees raised by human beings could learn to communicate with sign language.

Subjected to this experiment, Nim Chimpsky was taken from his 18-year-old mother, Carolyn, when he was only two weeks old to be raised by human surrogate parents in an attempt to refute Noam Chomsky’s thesis that language is inherent only in humans because animals lack the “language acquisition device." Hence Nim Chimpsky's given name.

Terrace chooses a former lover — Stephanie LaFarge — with little to no experience with chimps or sign language to raise Nim Chimpsky in her family’s Manhattan brownstone. LaFarge nurtures Nim Chimpsky as she would her very own offspring (she even breastfeeds him), raising him like a human baby/pet hybrid…and Nim Chimpsky matures into a possible romantic interest (yeah, you read that correctly) for LaFarge.

When Terrace becomes skeptical of LaFarge’s hippie-dippie parenting techniques, he whisks Nim Chimpsky away to a prim and proper 21-room mansion — the Delafield estate in Riverdale, New York -- where Nim Chimpsky is cared for by a series of teachers with various (and sometimes unrelated) skill sets. Several of the caretakers form deep and possibly dangerous bonds with Nim Chimpsky, who grows bigger, stronger, faster and sneakier by the day. Terrace’s next sexual conquest, Laura-Ann Petitto, becomes Nim Chimpsky’s second surrogate mother; and when Petitto leaves Project Nim, Joyce Butler steps in as Nim Chimpsky’s third mother-figure.

It is not much longer before Terrace finds himself in a position that he must pull the plug on Project Nim, fearing that Nim Chimpsky has grown too powerful and dangerous to control; so Nim ends up stuck in a cramped cage as a hepatitis test subject at New York University’s Laboratory of Experimental Medicine and Surgery in Primates. That is until Henry Herrmann, a Boston attorney, steps in and represents Nim Chimpsky in a court of law, arguing that the usual standards for laboratory animals do not apply to Nim Chimpsky because of his unusual upbringing. Terrace probably never realized it, but by raising Nim Chimpsky as a surrogate human (and arguably teaching him to communicate with humans), he may have opened people’s minds to the possibility that animals should have rights, including the right to legal protection from research.

Project Nim addresses the ethics of raising animals as humans and/or using them as research subjects, but director James Marsh, in this follow-up to his Oscar-winning Man on Wire, purposefully stops short of giving any hard-fast answers. Marsh is not here to talk science or ethics; he merely wants to provide the audience with an intriguing and beguiling story. (Which he does in spades!) Nonetheless, Project Nim is a life-changing experience that will certainly alter many viewers’ perspectives on animal rights as well as what qualifies as scientific research.

Terrace, for better or worse, is an incredibly intriguing character. As the predatory male leader of Project Nim, he repeatedly acts upon his animal urges rather than making intellectual decisions for the betterment of his research. In retrospect, we find Terrace to be utterly lacking in any resemblance of compassion or remorse for his decisions and actions.

Marsh’s Man on Wire nimbly alternated between dramatic recreations, interviews with subjects, and archival footage (photography and videos). Project Nim utilizes the exact same documentary technique, but the thoroughness and quality of the archival material from Nim’s incredibly well-documented life (Nim Chimpsky wears suits! Nim Chimpsky smokes pot! Nim Chimpsky humps a cat!) makes the strategy work more effectively than it did in Man on Wire. (Personally, I could have done without the sensationalized reenactments in both films.)

The candid nature of Marsh’s interview subjects — a startlingly near-complete array of the primary subjects of Nim Chimpsky’s life — also helps. Seated in an incredibly sterile environment, the interviewees’ shockingly confessional recollections are captured by Marsh’s unflinching (and non-judgemental) kino eye; then, a few beats after they stop talking, Marsh’s camera dollies sideways, as if moving on to the next caged specimen in the zoo.

I enjoyed Man on Wire, but Project Nim is a significantly more advanced documentary production. The pacing and structure of Project Nim are practically flawless, and Marsh’s propensity for sprinkling humor throughout this seemingly serious documentary is right on par with Errol Morris (The Fog of War, Fast, Cheap & Out of Control). I have a sneaky suspicion that the masses will go ape shit (sorry, I just had to!) for Project Nim and this will be a serious contender for the best documentary of 2011.

Thursday, 7 July 2011

FILM REVIEW: HORRIBLE BOSSES

A scene from Horrible Bosses.
Hardly working


A lot of people have had horrible bosses and a lot of people are afraid of quitting their horrible jobs because of the high unemployment rates and stagnant job market. Director Seth Gordon’s (The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters; Freakonomics) Horrible Bosses counts solely on these facts to draw people to the box office so they can pay outlandish ticket prices with the money they have earned from the jobs in which they feel hopelessly stuck. Pure and simple, Horrible Bosses is an escapist fantasy for and about the disenfranchised white middle-class workforce.

As is the trend with most Hollywood comedies of late, Horrible Bosses is based upon an idea that is as flimsy as a Saturday Night Live sketch and stretched out well beyond plasticity for 100 minutes. Technically, the narrative is comprised of a rough, mostly linear, outline of vignettes that begins with three haphazardly cross-cut stories about the unbelievable horribleness of Nick (Jason Bateman), Kurt (Jason Sudeikis) and Dale’s (Charlie Day) jobs or, more specifically, the unbelievable horribleness of their bosses, Mr. Harken (Kevin Spacey), Bobby Pellitt (Colin Farrell) and Dr. Harris (Jennifer Aniston), respectively. From there, the three guys begin to discuss and then foolhardily attempt to act upon the notion that if they murder their bosses their lives would be a hell of a lot better. After promptly shying away from a handsome man soliciting golden showers, the guys choose Motherfucker Jones (Jamie Foxx) to be their "murder consultant." Ridiculous, I know, but at least some of the dialogue is witty and funny.

Farrell relies upon a goofy prosthetic comb-over and coked-out glaze to draw laughs just as Aniston uses her ample bosom and trashy mouth to shock the audience into submission. Speaking of breasts and filthy pie holes, the women of Horrible Bosses (specifically Aniston and Julie Bowen’s character) are represented as one-dimensional sex objects -- unless, of course, they (specifically Lindsay Sloane’s character) are lulled into a happy daze by an engagement ring.

The definition of rape is repeatedly brought into question as is the ridiculousness of sex offender lists -- though both topics are bent over a barrel and shown the fifty states, if you know what I mean? (Hell, I do not even know what that means!) Toyota is mocked and ridiculed; the protagonists are lightly made fun of for being fumbling racists; pussies are scary; the Americanization (at least in name) of Indian telephone-support representatives is critiqued; and there is a relentless barrage of pop culture references, including blatant nods to Strangers on a Train, Good Will Hunting and Snow Falling on Cedars, of which some work better than others.

Horrible Bosses is definitely not as well-written or funny as Bridesmaids, but its certainly better than most of the other Hollywood comedies of 2011. If anything, I bet this film is much better than Zookeeper -- Horrible Bosses’ comedic nemesis this week at the box office. Of course, that is not saying much.

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

THEATER REVIEW: THE POOR OF NEW YORK

A scene from The Poor of New York. Photo Credit:  Henry Holden
Not in but under America


Serious theatergoers have a week left to go to NoHo to see one of the most unique stage offerings currently on the L.A. boards, the Group Repertory Theatre’s revival of Dion Boucicault’s 1857 The Poor of New York. Our economy recently underwent a series of disasters still vexing us but, due to the cyclical nature of capitalism this is nothing new; periodic crises will always be among us as long as there capitalists ride in the saddle. But the Irish playwright’s work starts during the Panic of 1837, which Group Rep’s Co-Artistic Director Larry Eisenberg described in an interview as America’s “first economic collapse, because of greed on Wall Street… Corruption is central to this… Thus this play seemed very relevant.”

Indeed, with its depictions of unemployment, eviction, foreclosure, begging, crime, suicide and other acts of desperation caused by destitution, The Poor of New York has a ripped from the headlines quality, although it’s more than 150 years old.  Stylistically, however, Boucicault’s melodrama is extremely melodramatic.

Eisenberg creatively borrowed from silent filmconventions, and there is actually a screen onstage at the Lonny Chapman Theatre with subtitles and some imagery projected onto it. The production’s props, sets and costumes bestow a period ambiance, as does recorded, old-fashioned music. Footlights mounted downstage enhance the sense of a theater-going experience at a mid-19th century Broadway thee-a-tuh.     

All of these devices cleverly heighten what playwright Bertolt Brecht called “alienation” techniques that serve to remind spectators via an approach that distances them from the action that they are not watching reality but rather a staged presentation of an approximation of real life. The goal of Brecht and Eisenberg and the Group Repertory, at least here, is to prod auds to think about what they’re watching, instead of merely being emotionally engaged with the story and characters, so they can learn something from the Lehrstücke, or teaching play.

Eisenberg deftly directs the ensemble cast. As the cigar chomping, aptly named Badger, Van Boudreaux strikes the right melodramatic notes. Portraying the devious banker Gideon Bloodgood, Chris Winfield is in the mustache twirling,villainous tradition of bad guys in the Snidely Whiplash mode who used to declare: “Out! Out into the storm! And never darken my doorstep again!” Kate O’Toole is winsome as the love interest Lucy Fairweather while Trisha Hershberger is trashy as the spoiled bourgeois bitch, Alida Bloodgood, who thinks everyone and everything is for sale. It’s good fun watching the evildoers get their comeuppance, with creaky onstage pre-CGI special effects adding to the fun.

However, as this highly recommended play rightfully reminds us, poverty, then and now, is serious business. Greed was not good when perpetrated by Wall Street’s Gordon Gekkos of 1837, or today.


The Poor of New York runs through Sunday at the Group Repertory Theatre at the Lonny Chapman Theatre, 10900 Burbank Blvd., North Hollywood, CA 91601. For more info: 818)700-4878; www.theGrouprep.com 

Tuesday, 5 July 2011

DVD REVIEW: ILLEGAL

A scene from Illégal.
Belgium ail


A former French teacher in Russia, Tania (Anne Coesens), and her son, Ivan (Alexandre Gontcharov), have come to live in Belgium as illegal immigrants. Tania must rely on her corrupt landlord, Mr. Nowak (Tomasz Bialkowski), to provide her with an apartment as well as forged documents so that she can work as a janitor.

Tania knows that this charade will not last forever but continues to hold on to the hope that the Belgian government will approve her request for permanent residence. When Tania receives the letter from the Belgian government officially declining her request, she drowns her sorrows in vodka -- the vodka serves a dual purpose of dulling the pain as she subsequently burns her fingerprints off with an iron (an act that serves as a clue to the audience that Tania knows that her arrest is imminent).

It is not much longer before Tania is captured by the police and imprisoned in a holding facility for illegal immigrants. Ivan is kept free and safe by Tania’s friend, Zina (Olga Zhdanova). Unwilling to divulge her true identity -- to avoid deportation and to keep Ivan safe -- Tania attempts to navigate her way back to Ivan and freedom.

Recently Belgium's Oscar entry for Best Film in a Foreign Language, it is not without irony that Film Movement scheduled the DVD release of Illégal the day after Independence Day in the United States, as writer-director Olivier Masset-Depasse’s film presents an age old international dilemma that continues to strip human beings of their personal freedoms. Unfortunately, Masset-Depasse’s only explanation of why we should discontinue the jailing of innocent people -- who are merely performing their integral yet unsatisfying and grossly underpaid roles in the capitalist system -- is the ridiculous over-zealousness of the government officials in chasing down and punishing undocumented immigrants. By not offering any justification for Tania’s move from Russia -- where she was presumably well-educated and adequately employed as a teacher -- to Belgium -- where she is forced to the bottom of the employment pool -- Masset-Depasse fails to convince us why Tania should be granted the Belgian residence papers that she hopelessly desires. In his failure to effectively explain Tania’s situation, Masset-Depasse seems to be suggesting that anyone should be able to live and work anywhere in the world -- an extreme and overly idealistic suggestion that could only work if we were living in a Utopian fantasy world. Under our current economic environment, this solution is totally unfeasible.

Masset-Depasse sacrifices a fruitful discussion on immigration issues in lieu of a profound feminist manifesto in which he focuses on the masculinity of the government officials and the femininity of the captives. Tania is a woman helplessly struggling to survive in an oppressive world ruled by violent and fear-mongering men. The women whom Tania encounters -- including a few female guards -- are incredibly supportive and helpful, while the men are all close-minded and one-dimensional. It is also not without purpose that Ivan is, for all intents and purposes, fatherless. Being raised solely by women provides Ivan with the hope of developing into a well-rounded and sympathetic human being, rather than an angry and pigheaded man.