FILM REVIEW: WADJDA

Wadjda (Waad Mohammed) in Wadjda.

Wheels on fire

By Miranda Inganni

Wadjda is the story of a spunky, charming, strong-minded, feisty 10-year-old girl, Wadjda (Waad Mohammed), who dreams of beating her best friend in a bicycle race. In many countries this would be a simple goal, but for the theocratic Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, the obstacles she encounters while trying to fulfill this dream are manifold.

To begin with, Wadjda’s best friend, Abdullah (Abdullrahman Algohani), is a boy, and girl's ought naught associate with boys in this misogynistic country. Secondly, Wadjda’s mother (exceptionally acted by Reem Abdullah) refuses to buy the bike for her, as it is extremely frowned upon in Saudi Arabia for women and girls to ride bicycles. But neither of these impediments stops Wadjda. To raise money so she can buy the bike herself, the determined entrepreneur decides to sell contraband -- homemade mixed tapes and soccer-team-colored braided bracelets. Such decadence!

When that scheme fails Wadjda signs up for her school’s Koran-recitation contest. Far more difficult than selling bracelets, Wadjda begins the arduous process of not only memorizing the Koran, but also learning how to recite it properly.

Meanwhile her mother is preoccupied trying to convince her husband, who is Wadjda's father, not to take a second wife.

Wadjda is the first feature-length film by a female director in Saudi Arabia (one of the most oppressive countries in the world). Per Saudi law, writer-director Haifaa Al-Mansour was not allowed to be in public with male crewmembers, which meant extra challenges, such as she often had to film from the back of a van, monitoring remotely. This meant she needed the actors  to rehearse extensively since she could not direct directly. This does pay off as performances she elicits from her actors, especially those of first-timer Mohammed and Abdullah are phenomenal.

Without ever outright criticizing Saudi law or Islam, the film subtly but decisively addresses female suppression, which Wadjda in her “Tween” stage is beginning to experience all around her. Al-Mansour handles this aspect of the story (and her culture) delicately and strategically. All the signs of oppression are there, but as Wadjda is the focus of the movie, she is, for now, content with the dream of beating her friend at a bike race.

THEATER REVIEW: THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

A scene from The Taming of the Shrew.

For the birds

By Ed Rampell

“Hark! What light breaks through yonder canyon?” Why, it’s none other than another repertory season of revels and revelations at Will Geer’s Theatricum Botanicum, made glorious summer by these sons and daughters of Geers.

As I’ve written for years, no summer in Los Angeles is complete without a stage sojourn to the Theatricum and this remains true as ever for 2013’s theatergoers. There’s nothing quite like seeing Shakespeare under the stars in that rustic amphitheatre nestled in Topanga Canyon. Never ones to shrink from controversy, the Theatricum has launched its 40^th Anniversary Repertory Season with one of the Bard’s most contentious plays: The Taming of the Shrew.

Let me say from the outset that the mise-en-scene, which creatively makes use of the natural surroundings, the music, the period costumes (I’m always up for traveling back in time to the Renaissance) and the acting are up this equity house’s usual high standards. As Grumio the sly cross-dressing Melora Marshall humorously plays yet another male character. Raven-haired Willow Geer -- who has trod the boards in many a Bard play and is arguably one of Los Angeles’ finest theater actresses -- is superb as the fiery, strong-willed (and did I forget to say sexy?) Katharina. Willow can heave her bosom with the best of them, and coming up against this force of nature is another Theatricum veteran, Aaron Hendry, as Petruchio, who seeks to woo, wed and domesticate this fireball.

The troupe’s venerable Artistic Director, Ellen Geer, presides over the organized mayhem of this naughty, bawdy, rowdy farce with her usual astute aplomb. In the playbill’s “Director’s Notes” Ms. Geer -- a Shakespearean expert -- observes that there are “many points of view” about The Taming of the Shrew, which is indeed subject to interpretation. One point of view is that in this play about the eternal war between the sexes where Petruchio subdues and subjugates Katharina to his will. Backstage, after the show, Hendry told this critic that Petruchio could be considered to be a “misogynist."

In the story Katharina, the “shrew-ish” title character, is an acid-tongued, temperamental woman used to having and getting her way in Padua. Or, she is a proto-feminist, free spirited and determined to live life on her own terms. However, she is coerced against what appears to be her will to enter into an arranged marriage on very short notice with Petruchio. He is no gentleman from Verona, and after marrying Kate, literally uses Guantanamo-type (I kid thee not) “enhanced interrogation” methods to break her spirit, including sleep and food deprivation.

The reader may feel that, to paraphrase Queen Gertrude: “The critic doth protest too much, methinks.” To be fair to the production, Hendry does succeed in conveying a sense that Petruchio is genuinely smitten with Katharina. And when they lip lock one can sense that both characters feel a libidinal thrill.

However, at one point Kate shrieks at the top of her lungs that she wants to be “free!!!”

Here, here -- hear, hear the voice of women throughout the ages struggling for their rights, to be treated as equals, not chattel!

To be sure, the Theatricum’s version is a romp, but many of the jokes may stick in your craw. The subjugation of human beings is never a laughing matter to be taken lightly -- although there are those who argue that Kate bests her loutish husband by using submissiveness as a ruse to -- as ever -- get her own way. But what would we say if Shakespeare had titled The Merchant of Venice “The Taming of the Jew”? Some of this tale of domination is frankly disturbing to my egalitarian, anarchistic sensibility. But as far as the Theatricum’s production goes, to paraphrase Cassius:

“The fault, dear Bard,
Is not in the staging
But in our text.”

The Taming of the Shrew runs through Sept. 29 at the Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum: 1419 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Topanga, California, 90290. For more information: 310-455-3723; www.Theatricum.com.

 

 

FILM REVIEW: IDENTITY THIEF

Diana (Jenny McCarthy) in Identity Thief.

Stolen vices

By Ed Rampell

The odiously unfunny Identity Thief is the latest installment in the “women behaving badly” cycle that has included the far funnier Bridesmaids and even Bad Teacher. Although for some reason the bland Jason Bateman gets top credit over Melissa McCarthy, who was Oscar nominated for the former, she stars as Diana in this flick that’s about as funny as McCarthyism. Diana (or whatever her name really is) assumes the name and identity of Sandy Bigelow Patterson (Bateman) and proceeds to live high off the hog, literally at his unwitting, unwilling expense.

Identity theft is a serious issue, but what the screenwriters Craig Mazen (who’s apparently extremely versatile, as the amazing Mazen also has credits for writing men behaving badly pix, including The Hangover II and III) and Jerry Eeten seem to have done is take a topical trendy subject that has a certain cachet and “brand name” appeal in order to attract attention to a movie that really deals with the title only about five percent or so of the time. The rest of the film is more of a road trip (but with On the Road and the upcoming Big Sur, I guess Jack Kerouac has that move market cornered) about the overweight 40-something McCarthy’s vulgar hijinks. We’re supposed to find sheer hilarity in a fat middle-aged woman’s masturbating, having sex, meting out and receiving physical punishment and, but of course, the McCarthy house specialty: foul mouthing.

But I was unamused and judging by the response of the Arclight audience, which -- like your beleaguered critic who puts himself into harm’s way by reviewing where fools fear to tread so you, dear viewer, don’t have to -- only laughed intermittently, so will the average moviegoer. This pic reminded me of Roseanne Barr’s unfortunate 1989 She-Devil, which she subsequently denounced. It is a sign of the appallingly low level of social discourse in an America in decline that the “women behaving badly” cycle is some sort of indication and even example of female empowerment. It’s like the “liberals” who believe that allowing women, gays and undocumented immigrants to fight for the U.S. military in combat is likewise some sort of manifestation of “equal rights.” Yes, you too can get your limbs blown off, have lifelong PTSD, even get killed, commit war crimes and atrocities invading Third World countries that never attacked us, by fighting for U.S. imperialism! Because we’re all equal pawns and cannon fodder now for the American Empire. In a similar way, “women behaving badly” poses the notion that “equality” means females adapting the same type of aggressive, belligerent, obnoxious behavior that is widespread among rude, crude dudes in our increasingly impolite, alienated society. (See Amy Alkon’s book, I See Rude People.)

Jon Favreau, John Cho and Amanda Peet are wasted in bit parts in Identity Thief. Modern Family’s Eric Stonestreet, however, is droll as Big Chuck in a sex scene that plays against type.

The most trenchant observation Identity Thief makes is that when the completely innocent Sandy encounters the police (Morris Chestnut is serviceable as Detective Reilly) regarding the theft of his identity resulting in thousands of dollars of overcharges he did not make, the pigs are completely unwilling and unable to help him. How typical: As Alfred Hitchcock shrewdly observed (and there’s a sequence in Psycho that specifically deals with this idea), the police are usually completely ineffectual. (Except when you go out on strike or protest or occupy -- then, but of course, they’re always there to beat you upside the head with their billy clubs, mace you, chase you or even worse.)

But the main thing that this ugly flick directed by Seth Gordon will steal is your time and money wasted purchasing tickets to see this unfunny waste of time.

    

LAFF 2011: SEX CRIMES UNIT

Natasha Alexenko in Sex Crimes Unit.

Victimized and victorious 

By John Esther

Two days and one day before the HBO premiere on June 20, the Los Angeles Film Film Festival screens Sex Crimes Unit, an insightful yet flawed look at a group of dedicated city employees working to bring rapists and other sexually violent perpetrators to justice. 

Before the Sex Crimes Protection Unit was formed in 1974 by Manhattan District Attorney and father of five daughters, Robert M. Morgenthau, victims of rape had very little legal recourse. Marital rape was not considered a crime (and good luck with prosecuting acquaintance rape or date rape cases). It was subject to statues of limitations. And more importantly, it was, and still is to a considerable degree, a victim-precipitated crime. In other words, a woman had it coming to her -- even if she was married, at home, sober, in bed asleep and the assailant broke into the house and sexually violated her. (Some of the reasoning behind this latter part, especially when it came to women holding this point of view, are some of the more interesting moments in the documentary.)

Today, sexually-violent crimes still persist but now there are 53 people handling sex crimes in Manhattan. Not only do they go after fresh cases, thanks to the removal of the statue of limitations on rape, they go after cold cases such as Natasha Alexenko. 

On the eve of her first anniversary in her New York apartment, Alexenko was raped at gunpoint in her apartment hallway by Victor Rondon (a particularly cowardly young man who has no idea what it takes to be a man in any legitimate or dignified sense.)

As Sex Crimes Unit follows new cases, as well as Alexenko's, we get a sense of not only the challenges incurred getting justice but also the victimization and victories between the time of the assault and actual sentencing. 

However, on a couple of occasions, the documentary takes a bit of an ironic tone, as it feeds right into those who are prone to be dismissive of women crying rape. The Zambrano case discussed early in the film is one example. Based on the information provided in documentary, it seems any decent defendant attorney should have been able to fight that one. In another scene a DA has a talk with a group of medical examiners that borderlines on coaching a witness -- albeit before the fact(s). 

And what about those times when the DA fails to prosecute a guilty defendant? The documentary leaves the impression that the accused, at least those who are arraigned (40 percent of rapes go unreported), will be sent to prison for a very long time. 

Yet despite these editorial/directorial flaws, Sex Crime Unit is an inspirational piece of filmmaking about a group of individuals addressing a prevalent problem in American society.