Wednesday, 30 April 2014

SFIFF 2014: LA DUNE


Hanoch (Lior Ashkenazi) Vardi (Niels Arestrup) in La Dune.

Buried hearts

By Miranda Inganni

Writer-Director Yossi Aviram’s French/Israeli film, La Dune, tells the tale of men lost – and needing to be found.

Middle-aged Hanoch (Lior Ashkenazi) likes cats, kids and chess, but mostly from a distance. When a chance at fatherhood arrives, Hanoch leaves Israel for France.

Meanwhile outside of Paris, soon-to-be-retired Detective Reuven Vardi (Niels Arestrup) locates the missing writer Moreau (a small, but impactful part played by Mathieu Almaric), who does not respond well to being found.

Upon returning home, Reuven begins to pack up his professional life while he and his partner, Paolo (Guy Marchand) pack up their personal lives for a new apartment and a much needed vacation. But one last missing person’s case calls his name.

Local lass Fabienne (Emma de Caunes) has found a man washed ashore in the South of France who either cannot or will not talk. He has no identification on him, so the man found is yet a man unknown. He does, however, have a small clue to his identity on him -- a newspaper clipping about the Moreau case. Seemingly unbeknown to the characters, this silent man is in fact Hanoch.

As Reuven delves more into Hanoch’s case, he is forced to reflect on his own life choices. Hanoch seems to have deep secrets and carries a great burden. Sadness? Shame? Guilt? All of the above and more? But Reuven is weighted by his own past – the buoy of his current love and life cannot forever keep him afloat. As the two men spend more time together, Hanoch seems desperately to want Reuven to uncover his identity, but not by Hanoch revealing it. It is imperative to Hanoch that Reuven figure this out on his own.

Aviram’s feature debut is a touching, understated look at a long-estranged duo. The exceptionally talented cast contributes excellent performances of these characters that quietly exude complex lives. Director of Photography Antoine Héberlé captures a warm, rich softness that effectively enhances the story. Lacking unnecessary dialogue, La Dune speaks to the heart about loves lost and found again.

Tuesday, 29 April 2014

SFIFF 2014: PELO MALO

Junior (Samuel Lange Zambrano)in Pelo Malo.
Hairs looking at you, kid

By Miranda Inganni
To what lengths will a young boy go to get the attention and love he so desires from his mother? In Mariana Rondón’s film Pelo Malo (Bad Hair) the more appropriate question might be, just how short is he willing to shear?
Nine-year-old Junior (Samuel Lange Zambrano) is fixated on straightening his hair for his school photo. You could say Junior sways to his own music. Sadly, his single mother is more concerned about her son’s perceived sexual orientation, which causes her great consternation.
In desperate need for child care, the mom of two young boys, and a recently unemployed security guard, Marta (Samantha Castillo) turns to her former mother-in-law, Carmen (Nelly Ramos) for help. Carmen allows Junior all the freedom he thinks he wants to straighten his hair and dance around all day. Unfortunately, tough Marta strongly dislikes her son’s pursuits of song, dance and comfort and takes matters into her own rough hands. Junior cannot win -- it is always a battle of wills with his mother. He constantly falls into the traditional binary of being too feminine or too masculine for Marta’s taste, but never just his mother’s loved little boy. Marta fears that her son is gay because she never touches him, and yet she never reaches out to him. Quite to the contrary, Marta pulls away from her son frequently -- at home, on the bus, walking through the neighborhood. She is so removed from him yet is constantly trying to teach him lesson; sadly, usually in the worst kind of way.
Set in the gritty, overcrowded high rise apartment blocks in Caracas, Venezuela, Rondón (Postcards from Leningrad) tells the story without an overbearing sense of judgment. All the actors perform wonderfully, with young Zambrano turning in a heartbreaking performance and Castillo embodying his tough-as-nails mom. Rondón puts a twist on what many perceive as the traditional masculine and feminine rolls in this touching film.

Sunday, 27 April 2014

SFIFF 2014: MARY IS HAPPY MARY IS HAPPY

Suri (Chonnikan Netjui) and Mary (Patcha Poonpiriya) in Mary is Happy, Mary is Happy.
Tongue Thai-ed 

By Miranda Inganni
 
Finding inspiration in 410 consecutive tweets by a teenager, Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit's Mary is Happy, Mary is Happy fuses social media and filmmaking in this wonderfully whimsical movie.
Deftly intertwining the tweets (originally posted by Mary Malony) with the drama, we follow moody Mary (Patcha Poonpiriya) and her more evenly keeled best friend Suri (Chonnikan Netjui) as they navigate their way through their final year of high school. Mary is impulsive  -- ordering a jellyfish in the mail, booking a quick trip to Paris which she subsequently sleeps through because of jet lag -- and a frustrated creative  -- forever chasing the “magic hour” in which to take her pictures. But mostly she is a mercurial, seemingly hopelessly romantic, teenager.
Mary and Suri are in charge of creating the school’s yearbook, which provides for many distractions and obstacles that they must overcome to complete the book.
 
Accident prone Mary traipses through her days, despite her cell phone blowing up repeatedly, getting poisoned by mushrooms while on a quick camping trip and even a terrible tragedy. All the while, she pines for M(Vasuphon Kriangprapakit, a young man she meets near a pancake cark next to the train tracks.
 
While Mary goes through what is for so many the awkward transition into adulthood, Thamrongrattanarit capitalizes on the limitations -- and lack thereof -- of the original tweets allowing Mary to mature in the face of adversity during the course of the film.
 
As director Thamrongrattanarit creates the story line around the tweets, plot points can seem eclectic. But the feature has a groove that flows smoothly once you suspend all reality and give in to the film's playfulness. It's got to be hard for a grown man to create a story out of a bunch of tweets written by a teenaged girl. But Thamrongrattanarit pulls it off with aplomb.

Friday, 25 April 2014

FILM REVIEW: ALPHAVILLE

Natasha (Anna Karina) and Lemmy Caution (Eddie Constantine) in Alphaville.
Godard is not dead

By Ed Rampell

One of my favorite genres depicts dystopian sci-fi societies, wherein humans fight to be free from futuristic fascism. On the page, George Orwell’s terrifying 1984 and Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World are the greatest exemplars of this type of anti-totalitarian tale in tomorrowland. But for my money (or whatever means of currency they’ll use in years to come), arguably the greatest interpretation of dystopia for the silver screen is Jean-Luc Godard’s 1965 masterpiece Alphaville, which has been lovingly, lushly restored and is being theatrically re-released in all its black and white glory by Rialto Pictures. And almost 50 years later, the prescient Godard’s sci-fi classic takes on a whole new dimension as a parable of the NSA national security surveillance state.

The 35-year-old auteur was in fine form when he and renowned cameraman Raoul Coutard shot this low budge take on high tech totalitarianism. When the French New Wave shook world cinema with imaginative, stylish pictures, among other things, these filmmakers made their own versions of Hollywood genre movies. Godard’s first feature, 1960’s Breathless -- with cinematography by Coutard and based on a story by Francois Truffaut -- took on the conventions of Film Noir, as did the second feature Truffaut directed, Shoot the Piano Player, made that same year.

In 1965 the visionary Godard -- who expressed the most filmic, formalistic verve of the Nouvelle Vague’s cineastes, with the possible exception of the late Alain Resnais -- cinematically synthesized (or, perhaps we should say “cin-thesized”) Film Noir, espionage movies and science fiction with Alphaville -- and in the process rendered a potent political work of art presaging his revolutionary agitprop.

Alphaville’s alpha male is portrayed by L.A.-born actor Eddie Constantine, who reprised the role he was noted for in French films: Lemmy Caution, a two-fisted, tough guy secret agent and/or detective in movies such as the 1950s flicks This Man is Dangerous and Dames Get Along. But in Alphaville, wearing a Bogie-like trench coat and fedora, Lemmy is thrust into a dystopian future where the despotic state is ruled by the omnivorous, omniscient Alpha 60, which has an eerily disembodied voice, decades before the coming of Siri. Alpha 60 is the cinema’s spookiest computer that side of Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke’s HAL in that other sci-fi masterpiece, 1968’s 2001, A Space Odyssey. As secret agent 003, Lemmy goes undercover, posing when he enters Alphaville from the “Outlands” as a reporter for the Figaro Pravda newspaper named Ivan Johnson (while Lyndon Johnson was U.S. president).

Godard’s wordplay throughout is tellingly droll and Orwellian: Alphaville is on “Oceanic” time, a reference to 1984, as is the futuristic city-state’s “Ministry of Dissuasions”; the close-up of an elevator button reads “SS” -- a play on the French word for basement (“sous-sol”), clearly a nod to the Nazis’ secret police -- and Alpha 60’s mastermind is the über-scientist Prof. Leonard von Braun, aka “Nosferatu”, obvious references  to both the Nazi rocket engineer Wernher von Braun, who went on to work for the postwar U.S. space program, as well as to F.W. Murnau’s 1922 German Expressionist Dracula classic.

Lemmy gets mixed up with von Braun’s daughter Natasha, who is charmingly played by Anna Karina. Although according to some critics Natasha is assigned to Lemmy as a “Seductress, Third Class” (look for character actor Akim Tamiroff cavorting with another Seductress in a cameo), her dialogue suggests that Natasha is quite innocent and naïve, perhaps even virginal.

Setting the stage for the later 1960s, love is the animating force of this struggle against a computerized tyranny where “logic” dictates human behavior at the expense of “conscience” and “passion.” Beneath Lemmy’s brawny private eye persona lurks an idealistic romantic. So like Winston Smith and Julia in 1984,Lemmy and Natasha couple up and resist the authoritarian Alpha 60, that Big Brother-like computer, which attempts to reign over a “technocracy, like ants and termites.” But Lemmy and Natasha are all-too-human and there’s a nearly rapturous scene when they discover and express their love for one another, which was quite avant garde for 1965 and remains rather lyrical, even poetic. One could make a legitimate case for Lemmy and Natasha taking their place alongside Romeo and Juliet, their 20thcentury counterparts Tony and Maria, and Porgy and Bess, as two of Western culture’s great lovers.

Alphaville is full of Godard’s signature style and leitmotifs -- rapidly cut montages, pictorial panache (check out the cleverly lensed scenes wherein Lemmy gets the hell beaten out of him in an elevator), Paul Misraki’s Noirish soundtrack, the use of written words (as with Orwell the importance of words and their meanings is key here; Godard even compares the dictionary to the Bible). And, but of course, no Godardian film would be complete without the auteur’s pseudo-philosophical musings (which detractors contend became rantings and ravings) of a vital, dissenting, visionary voice pleading for love, conscience and poetry in our ever-increasingly regimented, mechanized world. In Alphaville Godard arguably prophesized the advent of the National Security Agency’s techno super-state half a century before Mssr. Snowden bravely blew the whistle.

Many believe that after his New Wave phase Godard went off the rails, making totally incomprehensible pictures. The poor movie maestro must have heard this phrase even more than Woody Allen: “I like your    films -- especially the early ones.” Be that as it may, while Godard remains a cinematic éminence grise still creating screen enigmas from his perch in Switzerland, Alphaville was made when the New Wave’s enfant terrible was near the top of his game. It is a highly entertaining love story, a sci-fi Film Noir literally about man (and woman!) against the machine.

Alphaville opens in special theaters nationwide, including the Nuart Theatre in West Los Angeles. 







  










Friday, 18 April 2014

FILM REVIEW: CESAR'S LAST FAST

A scene from Cesar's Last Fast.  Photo Credit: Robin Becker.
Starving for justice

By John Esther

For the second time in three weeks, a film about the life and times of the American human rights activist, Cesar Chavez, will receive a theatrical release. The first one was director Diego Luna’s Cesar Chavez, a hitherto underappreciated film – at least at the box office. Now we have Cesar’s Last Fast.

Inspired by both his Catholic upbringing and the teachings of Indian human rights activist,  Mahatma Gandhi, Chavez conducted several fasts throughout his life.

Hardly a diet scheme, Chavez’s fasting was a response to the injustices farm workers, primarily in Central Valley California, endured. Already subject to unfair labor practices, unlawful imprisonment and, in a few cases, murder, new farming procedures implemented in the 1980s were subjecting farmworkers to carcinogenic pesticides.  These pesticides affected children most of all.

In response, the 61-year-old Chavez adopted a water-only fast. The fasting protest attracted media attention, especially after it past the 30-day mark and Chavez was reaching the point of no return. By the way, his return was quite an event.

Unlike Luna’s Cesar Chavez, director Richard Ray Perez (Unprecedented) takes an irreproachable attitude toward his subject. Perez was able to gain access to Chavez’s family, his coworkers and some precious archival footage and amateur video from Chavez’s press secretary, Lorena Parlee (who died in 2006 from breast cancer). Was it cause and effect?

Picked up at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, Cesar Chavez is an inspiring testimony to one of this nation’s heroes.

Sunday, 13 April 2014

FILM REVIEW: ONLY LOVERS LEFT ALIVE

Eve (Tilda Swinton) and Adam (Tom Hiddleston) in Only Lovers Left Alive. 
Oh so tragically hipster

By John Esther

The latest film by independent filmmaker Jim Jarmusch (Night on Earth; Dead Man and Broken Flowers), Only Lovers Left Alive tells the story of Adam (Tom Hiddleston), an eccentric musician living a life of exclusion in Detroit and his much older wife, Eve (Tilda Swinton), a world weary woman hanging out in Tangiers. When Eve discovers Adam is sad, she gets on the next overnight flight to the United States and the two lovers once again rejoice, make love, listen to music of a bygone era and consume human blood together. 

Yes, Adam and Eve are vampires. So is Christopher Marlowe (John Hurt), the real writer of William Shakespeare’s works. But they are not your typical vampires. They read, they feel, they create and they are too civilized to roam the streets searching for victims to sick their fangs into. Besides human blood today is too polluted. Adam and Eve remain in the last remnants of paradise by purchasing the purest blood money can buy.

Layered with nuance, feeling, memory and metaphor, Only Lovers Left Alive is a mediation on the futile persistence of immortality, that lovers and friends will always come and go and what it means, in terms of privilege and power, to be a pureblood. Or it could just be Jarmusch’s attempt to bring to life the coolest couple of cinema ever. My Radiohead, are these vampires not hipsters to the nth power?

FILM REVIEW: THE RAILWAY MAN

Eric Lomax (Colin Firth) in The Railway Man.
Getting there from here

By John Esther

In the early 1980s, Eric Lomax (Colin Firth) is a lonely, tormented man who continues to study Britain's railway system. He has always loved trains, despite the pain this love for trains brought him during WWII when he and his fellow British soldiers surrendered to Japanese soldiers in Singapore, 1942, and were brought to the Thai/Burma border and ordered to build the "Death Railway."

During another yet seemingly ordinary ride on the train, Lomax meets Canadian nurse Pattie Wallace (Nicole Kidman) and the two have such a remarkable conversation, Eric, at last, falls in love. The two get married.

However, it soon becomes very clear to Mrs. Lomax that her husband has psychological problems stemming from the great war. With the help of Finlay (Stellan Skarsgaard), a fellow POW of Eric's, Patti is determined to help her husband.

Based on Lomax's book, directed by Jonathan Teplitzky and the screenplay written by Andy Paterson and Frank Cottrell Boyce, the film deals with some of the uglier aspects of war, namely how torture can be justified by the upper echelons of government through twisted language that winds it way down the chain of command. Indeed, the use of language plays many roles in The Railway Man.

While in The Railway Man, the film deals with a British officer (Jeremy Irvine) and a Japanese-English translator Takeshi Nagase (Tanroh Ishida) who tortures the young Eric through such techniques as waterboarding, as an American, one can only anticipate the day when filmmakers illustrate (further) the torturous events at Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib and those who are and were on the wrong side of history.

In the meantime, The Railway Man is not only a germane warning to current U.S. policy, it is also one of the better films to come out so far this year.

"So many dead." "No, so many murdered."

 

Thursday, 3 April 2014

FILM REVIEW: 10 RULES FOR SLEEPING AROUND

Vince (Jesse Bradford), Cameron (Virginia Williams), Kate (Tammin Sursok) and Ben (Chris Marquette) in 10 Rules for Sleeping Around. 
Screw comedy

By John Esther

Vagina voracious Vince (Jesse Bradford) and conspicuous consumer Cameron (Virginia Williams) have what they call an "open" marriage. This means they can have other sex partners as long as they follow the "10 Rules for Sleeping Around." (Deplorably, none of these 10 rules promote safe sex.)

Vince and Cameron's best friends, cautious Kate (Tammin Sursok) and bummer Ben (Chris Marquette), are not married yet, but sexy times have been a bit slow, so Cameron and Vince offer them advice. Vince suggests Ben ask Kate for a threesome with another woman and Cameron suggests Kate get a pole...vaulter from Kate's past. 

Thanks to a series of events, every one of these New Yorker's has her or his theories, desires and commitment put to the test out in the Hamptons during the biggest party of the year, held by "I F#cked Everybody" author, Jeffrey Fields (Michael Mckean). Let the mayhem ensue. 

Somewhere between Sex and the City's banality and Three's Company misunderstandings, writer-director Leslie Greif's 10 Rules for Sleeping Around comes off as really bad television. About 10 minutes into this 94-minute movie I wanted it to be over. The acting is almost always in overdrive, the writing is on par with the worst you would find in any TV situation comedy and the reactionary gender stereotypes are tedious and cliched. Apparently, repressed sexuality is really what young people want. 

Hopefully the actors were paid well. It must be difficult for an actor when your director says you have to go out of character to get laughs. However, hysterical behavior is not necessarily comical. Notably, Kate's "spanking" scene with her lifestyle coach, Owen (Bryan Callen), is downright embarrassing. 

As a result nearly everyone in the movie is unconvincing and very annoying, especially Hugh (Reid Ewing), a virgin who refers to women in their late 20s as cougars. For his part, Hugh gets to scream a lot, run around naked and have a dog lick his butt. For Christ's sakes! 

The only two likable characters in 10 Rules for Sleeping Around are Nikki (Jamie Renee Smith) and Jaymee (Molly McCook). The "Jersey Shore" duo may be a bit crass, but they are comfortable with their freedom, sexuality and themselves.  

Fortunately, not all was lost. I did laugh four times during 10 Rules for Sleeping Around. But that hardly makes up for the pain during the rest of the time. 

Tuesday, 1 April 2014

FILM REVIEW: THE UNKNOWN KNOWN

Donald Rumsfeld in The Unknown Known. 
Spin Rummy

By Ed Rampell

Along with Michael Moore, Errol Morris is arguably America’s preeminent documentarian. Morris’ recent nonfiction films include 2003’s Academy Award winning, The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara and 2008’s Berlin International Film Festival Jury Grand Prize winner, Standard Operating Procedure

The former sought to explain why America went “down the same rabbit hole again” (as Morris put it during his Oscar acceptance speech) by invading Iraq through an investigation of the so-called “Mac the Knife,” who was U.S. Secretary of Defense during much of the Vietnam War. The second doc examined torture committed by Americans at Iraq’s notorious Abu Ghraib prison.

Morris’ latest documentary, The Unknown Known, is a sort of cinematic synthesis and updating of the two, as the master moviemaker focuses his “Interrotron” on Donald Rumsfeld, the man who was Defense Secretary during the Iraq War and is suspected of sharing responsibility for torturing prisoners from Abu Ghraib to Guantanamo. The Interrotron is a recording device somewhat similar to a teleprompter that enables the interview subject to appear to be making direct eye contact with the interviewer, and hence with the audience. The term, which was coined by Morris’ wife, producer Julia Sheehan, enhances the “first person” and “fly on the wall” nature of Q&As while suggesting the words “interrogation,” “interview” and -- appropriately, in Rumsfeld’s case -- “terror.”

The Unknown Known follows Rumsfeld, the Don Corleone of elite Republican politics, through his career as a four-term Congressman in the 1960s to his stints as a behind-the-scenes strings puller in the administrations of presidents Nixon and Ford, serving the latter as America’s youngest Secretary of Defense. The documentary focuses on Rumsfeld’s return to that post (by then as America’s oldest Defense Secretary) during George W. Bush’s disastrous presidency at the behest of his longtime crony, Dick Cheney. In this doc “The Unknown” becomes “Known” largely through the 20,000 memos the verbose Rumsfeld -- a psychopathic egotist way too fond of hearing the sound of his own voice -- circulated during his six years as Bush’s Pentagon hit man. Building upon what the ex-Defense Secretary dubs “snowflakes,” Morris once again goes down the rabbit hole as he follows Rumsfeld’s arrogant paper trail and creates one of the documentary’s central cinematic metaphors.

Morris is at his best when he uses filmmaking’s audio-visual language to express ideas and break the tedium of talking heads on the big screen. In 1988’s The Thin Blue Line about a Texan wrongfully convicted of murder Morris memorably, inventively enlivened the action with a slow motion crime scene reenactment featuring a flying milkshake, which provided a vital clue for the case. In The Unknown Known Morris cinematically opens up the screen with beautiful black and white time lapse cinematography of Washington, D.C. and repeatedly uses the snowflake theme to make his case against Rumsfeld and his snow job, as Rummy reads many of his memos aloud. At one point Irving Berlin’s “White Christmas” plays on the soundtrack. Another visual metaphor Morris deploys is images of the ocean, perhaps to give form to the gabby Rumsfeld’s sea of words.

Morris’ cleverest use of cinematic symbolism, however, is aural, as he overlays one track of Rumsfeld speaking over another, thereby creating the impression that the Pentagon top banana was, literally, a double talker. For instance, to sidestep the Geneva Conventions Rumsfeld refers to “detainees” instead of “prisoners of war.” Morris includes a canny clip of the 2002 press conference wherein Rumsfeld rather infamously said this about the lack of hard evidence regarding Iraq’s purported WMDs: “There are known knowns; there are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns: that is to say, there are things that we now know we don’t know. But there are also unknown unknowns – there are things we do not know we don’t know.” The title of Morris’ film is derived from this convoluted quote, which is clearly classic Orwellian “doublespeak.” (The doc’s droll, tongue in cheeky tagline is: “What you didn’t know you didn’t know.”)

At other times Morris cannily cuts from a lie Rumsfeld tells the Interrotron to footage of a previous statement by him, in order to point out self-serving contradictions. Sometimes Rummy spars with his electronic interrogator, taking issue with Morris’ use of the word “obsession” to describe his fixation on Iraq, retorting: “You like the word ‘obsession.’” At other times Rumsfeld critics may feel that the interrogator isn’t as hard hitting as he could be with the elusive subject -- Morris’ disdain for his subject has actually been far more visceral and palpable in the interviews he has given since completing his doc.

For instance, Rumsfeld’s meeting with Saddam Hussein on Dec. 20, 1983 as the Reagan regime’s special envoy to Western Asia is revisited, but Morris doesn’t press Rummy on his shaking hands and dickering with the dictator who was at the time using chemical weapons against Kurds and Iranians -- while the Bush regime used Iraq’s purported Weapons of Mass Destruction and Baghdad’s prior use of WMDs as a pretext for war. Rumsfeld, who was among the top purveyors of disinformation about Saddam’s WMDs, is predictably weasel-y when confronted about his lies regarding this matter (as he is regarding U.S. torture). When Rumsfeld ruminates upon Tariq Aziz, expressing a desire to meet with Saddam’s former Foreign Minister and Deputy Prime Minister, Morris inserts an image of written words dropping into a black pit.

Discussing Gitmo, Bagram and whether or not it was better for the U.S. to have not invaded Iraq Rumsfeld tellingly says “Time will tell,” justifying Bush administration actions by pointing out that under Pres. Obama many Bush policies are “all still there.”

Rumsfeld jokingly calls his interrogator’s final question “vicious,” as Morris inquires: “Why are you talking to me?” Rumsfeld replies: “I’ll be damned if I know.” This reviewer suspects that in addition to trying to burnish his image and put his spin on history, a main reason why Rumsfeld agreed to be interviewed for The Unknown Known is in order to sell copies of his latest book. And to once again have the pleasure of hearing the sound of his own voice, as this would-be master of the universe discussed for 33 hours his favorite topic: Donald Rumsfeld.

In any case, a better question for this man who helped lead this country into a completely unnecessary war that led to the deaths and injuries of hundreds of thousands and an incalculable loss of tax dollars contributing to the bankrupting of America is: Why are you smiling? Throughout the documentary Rumsfeld is jocular, even gleeful -- he is seen grinning in Participant Media’s picture promoting the film at the socially aware production company’s website. Inquiring minds would like to know why?

This reviewer suspects that Donald Rumsfeld is happy because he was never charged with, let alone convicted of, committing war crimes, and walks around a free, very rich man. Let’s hope Rumsfeld is charged with crimes against humanity and brought before a 21st century Nuremberg tribunal -- and that smirk is forever wiped off of his face. The reason why Rumsfeld and his fellow war criminals are allowed to walk around free is an unknown known.