Giving Thanks for foreign films, which flirt with romance

The pilgrims wanted to find or create liberty for themselves by creating a new home away from Britain’s crown. (Never mind the conceit that they showed in taking the aboriginals’ land.)  As moviegoers we go to foreign film, in part to move our experiences beyond America’s conventional-come-insipid, though often entertaining titles.  Some of those are free from the constraints of American films’ style and grammar.

We do so much for love, or out of our idea of it.  No matter whether that’s in pursuit of a special man, a special woman, or a film that reminds us that something can be special.

It could be for love...or a crime, with "The Secret in Their Eyes"

Forget “Love, American Style,” (which was an American TV program from 1969-1974) think beyond the North American borders, and those mental borders and the biases, which you might harbor toward American-style film storytelling.  Let’s be thankful that we can watch foreign films that give us different, even disparate vantage points on romance (and tumultuous questions of justice, which are often and easily as thorny as those of love).

How about Love, Argentinean style?: “The Secrets in Their Eyes” ["El secreto de sus ojos" in Spanish] tells a tangled tale of the pursuit of justice and a second chance for an unrequited romance.  A retired court officer, Bejamin Esposito, writes a novel in order to banish the demons of his career…   The “New York Times’” take on it might be the most potent: is it “both a detective story and a tale of unrequited love.”  “The Secrets in Their Eyes” boasts smart humor, a mature, sensitive a compelling investigative yarn that clashes with the “Law & Order” North American procedural way of considering crimes.

  • Who gets to see those often..?
  • Often enough..?

Think about Love, Spanish style: “Cell 211″ ["Celda 211" in Spanish] tells of a tangled prison riot where good is mistaken for bad.  It’s an uncommon prison riot film, with a love story.  This story, critiqued here, is a perverse melding of a charming love story, which turns wistful, and a prison uprising spanning one day, and which might remind you of the Attica prison uprising in 1971.  Juan Oliver, a do-gooder, becomes a criminal, while he hiding for his own safety among violent criminals.  He must bide his time until his new world returns to a realm of sanity, and he can squeeze his wife again in a hug.

These two films provide strengths and twists in narrative and character development that rarely happen in North American movies.

Love, French style is…such a worn out idea – a cliché.  We have “Mademoiselle Chambon.” You might ask “why bother; what new angle is there!?!”  Even if we consider the crush on teacher trope…  What if it were your dad?  What if he did nothing but respond to your teachers steady, increasingly intense interest in your dad?

Love. Lust. Mid-life questions. Wanderlust.  These are at the foundation of “Mademoiselle Chambon.” The trouble starts after she asks the dad, Jean,  to talk to her class about his work, construction.  She likes him – a lot.  As sordid as their tryst might become, their story demands and expects viewers’ patience.

We are treated to these innovative, challenging stories so rarely in North America (those viewers who want better concede and consent to conventional, banal film experiences).  Be thankful for countries and cultures that defy America’s standards and expectations for the routine, the typical, the retrod.

Park Dae-min’s “Private Eye” is a fun South Korean detective yarn, with great twists

“Private Eye” is a great, interesting, smart and amusing South Korean genre detective yarn from director Park Dae-min.  It’s title in Korean: “Geu-rim-ja sal-in.”  This story takes place in 1910 Seoul, South Korea.  A former policeman, now private detective, Hong Jin-ho [Jeong-min Hwang], concentrating on typical, banal cases of cheating lovers, helps a young, talented and ambitious medical student, Oh Yeong-dal [Dal-su Oh] who’s in a weird – awk-weird – situation: this med student finds a dead body (some government official’s son) in a grassy area and brings it home so he can do anatomical practical studies – this, instead of calling the police!

Wow.  That is ambition..!  …and a gouge in his ethical compass – but this yarn (for amusement not forensic intensity) drives that detail for a chuckled and nothing more.  Enjoy and escape with this film.  Don’t consider it.  Just sit back with some friends and watch.

This is a fun part of the Pan Asian film festival at Minnesota Film Arts.  Don’t think about “Private Eye’s” details, and then you’ll be in for some solid entertainment.

If the director, Park Dae-min, chucked about two of the story’s twists, it would be clearer, simpler and that much more potent. And about 20-minutes shorter.  Every time the yarn seemed to be two beats from its end, there seemed to be at least one more 10-minute sequence and a new twist opening up.  It was like “this just in! – Another story and character twist!  One twist involved a suspect who, while cunning and somewhat politic, also had a twin who seemed pretty identical.  The array of twists wasn’t bad, but it was tiring, especially when one twist entailed sexual perversion that did nothing to advance the narrative, the characters’ stories, or the potency of either.

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Danish-Korean “The Red Chapel” – a biased, awkwardly amusing “documentary”

A Danish media producer, Mads Brügger, draws two fellow Danes, and Korean adoptees, to perform bad, amateur comedy as an effort at cultural exchange with North Korea.  His Korean-born comrades are Jacob Nossell, a self-described spastic, and Simon Yul Jørgensen. The “documentary” is called “The Red Chapel” (“Det røde kapel” in Danish).  The exchange is merely a ruse for Mr. Brügger: he wants the opportunity to film inside this sealed state, to record and expose the state’s brutal, repressive system.

The Danish-Korean adoptee "comics": Simon and Jacob

Minnesota Film Arts brought this film into their Pan Asian film festival.  You figure: “hey, this could be wild.  Different.  Never seen this before.”

In the beginning, after having shown just how meager Jason and Simon’s skills are and how amateur their intentions, Mads asks the viewer via voice over: why would North Korea allow a comedy show that’s this bad to go forward unless they intended to exploit it for propaganda?  Good question.  That’s an interesting premise for a documentary.

How many reality-based, comedic documentaries are out there, or how many political documentaries have been made for laughs?  Hmm.  This documentary, a guerilla version, is strange.  The humor is semi-amusing, more silly than funny.  Simon and Jacob are sympathetic and very smart when Mr. Brügger leaves them enough on-screen long enough for this to register.

It’s too bad that Brügger named no non-partisan sources – no sources at all – for his often haunting assertions.  His opinions or conclusions are his currency here.  He uses no international public documents are cited to corroborate his words.  This bodes poorly if this is to be taken as a real documentary, instead of documentary style, or just called verité.

There are documentaries and documentary-style (verité) films.  The New York Times’ chief film critic, A.O. Scott, recently wrote about how the description or definition has become murkier and murkier. A “documentary?”:  documentaries are essentially long-form journalism.  To document.  To record and then report.

According to Merriam-Webster:

  • “to provide with factual or substantial support for statements made or a hypothesis proposed;
  • especially : to equip with exact references to authoritative supporting information.”

Among Scott’s observations, he recommends that people who watch docs ask themselves what agenda the film or its maker has.  In a perfect world, journalism‘s lone agenda is to build a story on a foundation of accurate, reliable and corroborated facts.  People can insist that reality TV is documentary, but that hot air coughs up into frost when you consider that those scenarios are contrived and conjured.

The verdict: if you accidentally bump into the DVD, why not take a gander?  Otherwise…

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China’s “City of Life and Death” is a brutal, confusing war story

What do you call a film experience that, while interesting and seen on handsome black & white film, you would only do again under duress: “City of Life and Death.” (The title is “Nanjing! Nanjing!” in Chinese.)  This film dramatizes the epochal trauma to which Japan subjected their vanquished, the Chinese from December 1937 to March 1938.


This is a heck of a hurdle for an American audience, and especially for young people: American audiences have heard of World Wars I and II, and they remember that those wars were bookends for the Great Depression.

Few people probably remember that while the United States’ experience in World War I began in 1917, while Europe began three years earlier.  But it’s too much to hope that most viewers know anything about the Rape or Massacre of Nanking, China, which occurred in 1937-38 – between those big wars, and after our Great Depression.  This historical Chinese war film, “City of Life and Death,” is part of Minnesota Film Arts’ festival, In Search of Asia.

While this story isn’t about Nazism, it still is: it shows the Rape of Nanking.  The first 30- or so minutes resemble Newsreel footage of the London Blitz: the depraved barbarism to which the Japanese subjected their Chinese foes leaves nary a whole build left resting upright or free from tumult.  Basically switch out the Nazis for the Japanese and London, England for Nanking, China. Few people expect to be entertained by Holocaust stories, and only some by war stories, if they are brave enough to portray unromantic realities.  “Schindler’s List” is exceptional; it provided warmth and humor to lighten that which is a separate 20-Century horror story.

While a film lover can, in theory, revere or laud foreign countries’ differing narrative and grammatical techniques, the reality can send an American’s mind spinning:

  • “City of Life and Death” takes at least 40-minutes to reveal its incidental ensemble of personalities.  Only half of the ensemble has names that we hear.  Also, it’s impossible to distinguish between the Japanese and the Chinese, no patches or flags until the middle.  It’s confusing.
  • And there are three or four title cards, which while stylish and a refreshing hand-written alternative to the usual, are hard to read and remember before the film cuts to the next scene.  “City of Life and Death” lacks an obvious narrative structure, where the acts and various plot points are made obvious.
  • While this story is a little over two hours, it feels, these obstacles make it feel like two and one-half.


Who does the film-maker want or expect to watch this?  Or how small of an audience does the film-maker want?  Watching this is a chore: like watching “Schindler’s List” with only maybe 10% of its warmth and humor or like gutting it out through the daunting, unrelenting misery that the McCourt family must endure in the first third of “Angela’s Ashes.”  The Rape of Nanking is a fascinating topic, especially for people who love history.  But why would someone want to watch this?!

It’s remarkable and a controversy in China: that a Japanese grunt soldier, Sergeant Kadokawa, [Hideo Nakaizumi] and others, is shown beyond villainy, as human.
Kadokawa is one of the few characters who has what resembles a subplot.  He comes of-age in this hellish time.  In the end, his regrets consume him.  For example, two survivors of one of the early and many massacre scenes, a man and a boy, who are almost forgotten by the film-makers and the audiences, reappear in the last half hour.  He lets the boy and man go to live on, granting them a reprieve from a proforma death sentence.  Before doing so, Kadokawa says to the sky, “Life is harder than death.”

John Rabe's assistant

There was also the assistant to Nanking’s answer to Oscar Schindler in Germany makes a strong, defiant stand.  After having witnessed his child’s murder and the violation of his wife, he tells his chief executioner “My wife is pregnant again,” with a resigned, although satisfied smile.  A beat later, he is dead.

“City of Life and Death” probably appeals to a narrow niche of film-lovers who don’t trip over the kinds of obstacles in a story that were listed above.  Other films have tackled this massacre tale and have satisfied their viewers.

If we were to rate this: 2 out of 5.

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Ounie Lecomte’s “A Brand New Life” about a stubbornly loving orphan

Minnesota Film Arts presents “A Brand New Life” (which is “Yeo-haeng-ja” in Korean), from 2009, and French-South Korean film-maker, Ounie Lecomte, as a part of the In Search of Asia series at the St. Anthony Main cinema.

After an adorable elementary school-age girl, Jinhee [Sae Ron Kim], who clings to her dad, is left at orphanage by him, she must find a way to deal with it, but cannot.  This, even after being treated well and finding friends.

How would you feel or respond if, at around age 10, your dad broke your heart by lying to you…because he had to?

What if he bought you a new ensemble and said that you two were bound for a trip, but deposited you with an orphanage?  According to imdb, Ms. Lecompte’s own story inspired this film.

Jinhee’s dad deposits her at an orphanage, a way station for children whose lives might be lifted if middle-class families claimed them.

She has to deal with A Brand New Life in an orphanage.

From the moment that Jinhee – her beguiling grin that is – appears onscreen, she’s just a sweetie pie.  Her effervescence hobbles your objectivity and skepticism.  That story would be enough, but wait – there’s more.   She just can’t get over the fact that her father won’t return – that this could lead to a more stable life for her.

While 10-years old may be old enough for a child to roll with that sock to the chin, Jinhee isn’t that child.  She adores her father, so she refuses to accept her lot, and is doggedly stubborn about not rolling with punches that life has knocked into her.  Jinhee’s story is partly one of her emotional arrest in the face of an unenviable situation.  She might be Korea’s version of Shirley Temple, or an elementary-age Dakota Fanning if you like.

Jinhee and friend Sookhee chill out over pilfered cake

A key scene happens when the orphans attend church, where Jinhee sees a man whose resemblance to her father hits home.  A beat after that, the pastor’s lesson about Jesus asking his father, “why hast thou forsaken me?” tells us just what agony is festering within Jinhee.  It’s not that she likens herself to a martyr or as Messiah, but she is still struggling to reconcile her dad’s nasty, loving lie with her reality.

Either you sympathize with her refusal to roll with these punches, or you can find her as her soon-to-be good friend, Sookhee, [Do Yeon Park] will: “a wench,” who needs to stop being a baby!  Children do not comprehend or consider their situations as adults do (or as we would like or expect adults to).  They’re used to either being good or being punished.  She’s being as good as she can muster, but she must still suffer.

Jinhee content with her father (who hasn't a head?)

If a screen title didn’t tell us that this is fiction, taking place in 1975, then the semi-documentary style might nearly have fooled me.  But some of the shots are rarely found in documentaries.  Otherwise we should compare this to a PBS film from its Point of View series, “Wo Ai Ni, Mommy,” a Chinese documentary on trans”racial” international adoption; there is a lengthy scene where the girl is smack dab in the middle of change.  That scene is unsettling, with angst and agony.  That’s a hint at why the pastor’s lesson registers with our aggrieved young protagonist.

This story is one that, as with Thomas McCarthy’s “The Station Agent,” from 2003, or other small, personal films, demands that you are patient – frankly, mature – enough to allow it to defy American expectations for pacing.  That forecasts a niche audience who will have to seek out the opportunities to watch this.   “A Brand New Life” isn’t slow, but is deliberate.  It’s charming and quiet.  Are you patient enough to let this child’s story unfold before you, or will you shift in your seat wishing that something, something cool would happen?  The story defies American cinema’s banal conventions.  But it was made by a French-South Korean film-maker.

If we were to rate this: 4 out of 5.

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Anurag Kashyap’s odyssey “That Girl in Yellow Boots” stirs with potency

Minnesota Film Arts’ In Search of Asia festival opened on Wednesday November 3rd with “That Girl in Yellow Boots,” a drama by Anurag Kashyap.  At that hour, this was the film’s one showing.

Twenty-year old Ruth [Kalki Koechlin] is a mixed Indian-British girl amid a minor odyssey toward…whom else…her long since light-footed father, for which she finds perverse closure (naw, it ain’t that!) in the end. Ms. Keochlin also co-wrote this story.  On a student VISA, she makes her way as a masseuse, and actually does a few legit jobs sans “happy ending” – or handshake as she calls it.

It asks questions of love, which are as interesting as they are awkward, and taboo ones about sexual boundaries.

When she isn’t working as a soft-core hooker, she spars with and then spurns an Indian hustler boyfriend, who seems to only want same as her clients, but authentic intimacy.  Essentially she’s an illegal, white British sex worker, whose odyssey – outside from an exploitive and world-widening sojourn in Mumbai – is to pursue the Indian father, whose own figure and face is a mystery to her – and who abandoned family after older sister’s mysterious death.  That want for a dad wreaks a cornerstone of Ruth’s morose, exotic reality and lifestyle.

From Indian cinema we expect three-hour plus fantastical musicals where the color palette is often as boisterous as the music.  “That Girl in Yellow Boots” is a radical detour from that set of expectations.  While Ruth’s story is about love, it’s more about how she protects herself, cordoning herself from intimacy and keeps her control within her own clutches.

Late in her story, after her boyfriend writhes through his self-installed detox, he asks why she does massage; she blurts confiding “because I need somebody..!”  She does splendid and remarkable if also typical work of avoiding opportunities for that intimacy (or is it a reckoning) for which she’s hungry.

Her dad, Arjun Patel (which may or may not even be his name), for whose attention she yearns, married Ruth’s mother for perverse reasons different from love: those we know are awkward, those we learn of make our skin crawl, our jaws gape.  Her dad is the key to twisting the scimitar, which his abandonment had already shoved into her gut, into a hemorrhaging emotional gouge.

Ruth is in a toxic emotional situation, but she’s no Dorothy visiting Oz; she’s an impressionable youth, but also deftly politic and cunning:  She’s solidifying her Hindi in order that no one exploit her.  She also knows how and when to offer bribes so that she can work via her student VISA so she can work and avoid jail. Snarky people ward men off from women who have “daddy issues” because enormous messes lay in those women’s wakes. Chris Rock said that a father’s main job: “keep my daughter off the pole.”  Ruth’s mindfuck is at least as bad as that reality.

It’s difficult to name comparisons to this story.  For the scope of the taboos, which “That Girl in Yellow Boots” picks at hint at “Priest”, from 1994, the self-righteous polemic against Catholicism’s suite of shortcomings, for the rough, incendiary potency.  When it comes to director Kashyap’s twist in the final act, consider the ending to Adrian Lyne’s “Jacob’s Ladder,” from 1990, about “a traumatized Vietnam war veteran finds out that his post-war life isn’t what he believes it to be…” per imdb; that messed with your mind and messed you up!  That last jerk or twist of emotional perversion in the end here…is at least as profound as what we get from Jacob’s bodybag being zipped up.

Imdb and wikipedia provide some peculiarities and head-shaking confusions in regards to this drama: each describes Ruth’s story as a thriller.  I disagree: this is a drama that has brief segment of suspense, in the last act.  This falls well short of flirting with an Alfred Hitchcock sensibility.

If we were to rate this story: 4 – 4.5 out of 5.

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