Is “Intouchables,” France’s choice to compete for the Best Foreign Language Oscar, France’s best?

France submitted one of the most profitable and popular films, if not the most, in its recent history, Intouchables, as its entry in the Best Foreign Language film category for the Oscars.  That’s great, and maybe problematic: it sparked controversy in the U.S. because its lead character, Driss, reflects to America’s most chronic persistent racial stereotypes.  The New York Times wrote about and criticized it in the spring.

In America race is one of the hardest, most awkward, most personal and most prickly subjects to raise, much less confront.  When I think about Intouchables, on one hand, I understand the nearly universal enthusiasm and delight in response to it, based on a true life story.  It’s an exuberant tale that joins two of the least likely men, from two of the edges of society.  On another hand, if you’re sensitized to and paying attention to them, you’ll soon find a few major stereotypes at play.

In the last 20 years, only a few Francophone films have dealt with race with forthright courage: Café au Lait, (1993) and La Haine (1995) (which translates literally as “hate”), both by Mathieu Kassovitz, who was called France’s own Spike Lee, when Lee was at the zenith of his polemical and popular works.  Café au Lait is the story about a mixed-race 20-something woman who has a choice between two lovers: a white Jew or a black Muslim.  La Haine looks at race from a neighborhood and economic point of view

In 2010 Le Nom des Gens came from France.  It’s at least as exuberant as, but I believe more memorable and smarter than, Intouchables.  And it contends with race, politics and religion in a deft, subtle, hilarious and sophisticated way.  Unfortunately Intouchables doesn’t.

The actor, Omar Sy, a star in France, spoke to this briefly but pithily on Shadow and Act.

Omar Sy: I was a bit surprised to hear the criticism, because it’s a film that I believe in, I defend the film, and I would never be involved in a film that has racist overtones. It’s a French movie and it has to be read in the context of a French society. If you look at it with a different set of criteria you can come up with a different meaning.

 

In France, the banlieues (suburbs) is a completely different environment than what you have in the United States. It’s not as racially segmented. The people from the banlieues, be they from Hispanic origin or black origin, they’re in the same socio-economic slice. In America, [people of color] may have ancestry tied to slavery or immigration.

Daphnee Denis discussed this ably in her posting for Slate.

After I saw the film at the Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival, I faced a fork in the road of discussing it.  I could choose between leveling a critique or criticism.  When people asked for my opinion or review of it, their interest in a conversation would rapidly dissipate if I raised my concerns about the stereotypes, and the bigotry that their presence implied.

(left to right) Francois Cluzet and Omar Sy

What’ll this bode for how well or how much better either country digs the other’s point of view on race, or recognizing it?  At the least (and maybe least useful) it reminds us, yet once more, of how much farther each country has to venture in order to shed our connection of everything in life to color and features (or the denial of that as a social reality).

Talking about is a part of the power of a provocative movie.  Isn’t it the movies that leave us with blank minds and nothing to say that are the problems?

So, this impass at a movie theater, and between countries and cultures, presents an opportunity to discuss how race, too often discussed in divisive and agonizing ways in the US and “never” officially in France, is understood in a hit film.  I regret that as seldom as these opportunities come, it is just as rare when any of us handles them as smoothly as most of us say we want.

American Movie-Goers Miss Out by Letting Foreign Movies Pass Them By

Recently a great friend asked me about “The Artist,” the French- and Belgian-made film from 2011, which earned the lastest Academy Award for Best Picture.  Another friend asked me about “A Separation,” from Iran, also from 2011.

Those conversations reminded me about how much I appreciate other foreign films: “Walk on Water,” from 2004, and “The Holy Land,” from 2001.  Both of them are from Israel.

More and more often North American movies rely on other countries’ moneys for success.  If you read movie critics’ columns often enough you know how often American movies depend on foreign rights and revenues in order to be make films, and in-turn profits.

The Artist Poster on the Tube from Annie Mole

I was reminded about films, like those mentioned above, that beg to be recommended to friends.  After having answered one friend’s question about “The Artist,” which I’ve not yet seen, I recommended those Israeli films.

And, yet foreign films seems to strike Americans as strange or out-of the way; literally foreign.  More so than necessary.

Why do so many American movie-goers flock to American-made titles, while also whining about a decline in their quality, value and ingenuity?

  • A common complaint about foreign movies is having to deal with subtitles.
  • Maybe there’s a snob factor, or an assumption that foreign film fans are a club, and you have to pay dues?

Hey.  When you run out of American films you want to watch why not turn to the best ones from France, Israel, the United Kingdom or elsewhere?

“Toast,” the tale of a Brit food writer, mostly meanders like a ditched dinghy – until final act

“Toast” is a peculiar “family” story where a father (played by Ken Stott) and son Nigel (Oscar Kennedy, when young; Freddie Highmore, when older) in 1960s England clash before and after the his mother (played by Victoria Hamilton) has passed on.

The family is used to simple, banal suppers: mom has the opposite of the Midas touch in the kitchen.  When Nigel asks his mum to bake a cake with him, she concedes “if we have to.”  Nigel daydreams about being either a grocer or cook, with grateful customers.  Frustrated, the middle school age Nigel is ambitious: he wants to cook for his family, show them that dinner can be something better than buttered toast – seriously!

Mum and son struggle to bake a cake in "Toast" (Courtesy: W2 media)

When Mrs. Potter, their housekeeper (Helena Bonham Carter) arrives, she excites the dad in ways he’d forgotten, and pushes Nigel’s buttons as she seems inclined to take his mom’s place.

As happens in some misguided movies, this one is vague and meanders without purpose, with the most interesting plotting waiting the final act!  By then, an older Nigel begins to compete with the new woman of the house, Mrs. Potter, to satisfy his dad’s stomach.  She won’t play nice.

And, then it’s fun.  This opens at the Edina Cinema on Oct. 14th.

This might be splendid inside baseball for foodies.  Until the final act, others’ll feel they’ve been plunged into the deep end.

A “Happy, Happy” story of love from Norway?

Lust blinds.  Love confounds. “Happy, Happy” is the feature-length debut of Anne Sewitsky.  Each of us has faced the questions of whether someone is the one for us.  Sometimes the answer to that question is easy; it’d be great to know that life.  What happens when you have to face the fact that you chose the wrong partner and lover?

This not quite love story opens at the Uptown Theatre on October 7th.

“Happy, Happy,” a Norwegian film, confronts that question in sensitive and sloppy ways.  There are two very different couples, neither of which is happy.  One man is fleeing from the memories of his wife’s infidelity.  One woman isn’t sure why her man feels nothing for and in fact belittles her.  And why he’s fine with ignoring his reasons why.

A happy marriage – each to someone else. (Courtesy: Magnolia Pictures)

Love is often a compromise, but how much do you give or give up for happiness?  In this story of love, which might not be a love story, an educated couple Sivge (Henrik Rafaelsen) and Elisabeth (Maibrett Saerens) rents a house from and is greeted by a provincial and friendly couple, Eirik (Joachim Rafaelsen) and Kaja (Agnes Kittelsen). Elisabeth and Sivge are professionals, while Kaja and Eirik do…we don’t know what.  Each couple has a son.  Elisabeth and Sivge is adopted from Ethiopia.  Why they are in this story is a mystery – neither helps the story.  Mysteriously Kaja no longer interests Eirik.  Some months ago Elisabeth cheated on Sivge.

Kaja, made vulnerable by Eirik’s chronic disinterest in and belittling of her, finds a role model in Sivge and Elisabeth, and a distraction in Sivge.  He finds a refreshing and welcome warmth and sweetness in Kaja.  But Eirik faces a different, confusing problem: why’d he choose Kaja?  What does he want?

This is a competent film with problems, which make you scratch your head: there’s a bizarre, awkward subplot concentrating on Elisabeth and Sivge’s adopted Ethiopian son.  For an inexplicable reason, after having found a children’s book on slavery, Kaja and Eirik’s son decides to play “slave” games with the boy.  He somewhat playfully treats him as one.

How does love look when you want the other's partner? (Courtesy: Magnolia Picture)

These distractions work like a musical segment from a circa mid-20th-Century movie: a Negro band plays a song, which is irrelevant to the movie, and, which when played in the South, could be removed so that it wouldn’t offend that region’s sensibilities.

There’s a palate-cleansing devise bombs:  a choral group, which sings between acts.  While the songs suit the story sometimes, they don’t serve it.  The subplots don’t support or propel the main story – they give nothing to it.  If the director had omitted either of these problems, she could’ve also omitted at least 15-minutes from the film.

This is a competent film with a nice, quiet and smart story.  But doesn’t need to run for much longer than an hour.

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“Mr. Nice” is about how a nice young Welshman became a drug lord

“Mr Nice” is a great autobiographical story about Howard Marks (Rhys Ifans), a shy young Welsh boy who finds himself going to Oxford, and on his accidental way to being a British hash king pin.  It’s based on his book of the same name, or title.

It starts in a surprising way: before he gives a speech, he asks “are there any plain clothes officers here?”

The poster (from images.google.com)

The story’s era and Mr. Marks’ temperament reminds me of “In the Name of the Father,” although it has not a thing to do with this film.  Mr. Nice/Marks is a smart, funny slacker as king pin, upturning many stereotypes.  This backwoods Welshman tests well, and ends up at Oxford, discovering the pleasure of drugs, and more, that his innocent look serves his need for stealth.

If that core of the story wasn’t enough, it turns out that the British secret service turn to him to turn up information that eludes them.  Both of these twists on the typical are welcome and refreshing!

This smart, amusing and atypical true-crime yarn opens at the Lagoon Cinema on September 30th.

This story feels a lot like 2001′s “Blow,” but without that one’s morose ending or dramatic peaks and valleys in the plot.  He’s no Scarface or Daniel Craig’s no-name character in 2004′s “Layer Cake.”  (In fact the actor, Rhys Ifans, is the “masterbating Irishman” from Notting Hill.)  This is less of a paint-by-numbers film than other drug lord ones.  Some drug dramas emphasize trauma and upturned lives.  This one, without any hard-boiled East Coast-style shows Mr. Marks’ slippery slope of involvement.

“Mr. Nice” is a crazy, funny story that’s very smart, but doesn’t take itself too seriously.

“Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame” is a story-moot blast

“Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame” is a fun yarn, where the digital and martial arts spectacle are the priorities.  This story, centering on China’s lone empress, Wu Zetian, is great to look at, especially for children, and the young at heart – except for the scenes where vital characters combust spontaneously.

Stunning image (Courtesy: Indomina Releasing)

The first time you see it is a shock.  But after a few more, it’s merely strange and creepy.

This opens at the Uptown Theater on Sept. 23.

It indulges in vast digital imagery and special effects with casts of 1000s.   The story has a lot of twists, which, in the end, are moot.  Ditch your thinking cap, and enjoy the ride.  (If the empress’ legacy interests you, and if you can find it, maybe you should watch a“Wu Ze Tian,” from 1963?)

“El Bulli: Cooking in Progress” highlights a movement, but leaves all but foodies in the cold

When one restaurant, El Bulli, stands above all others with its adventurous and experimental food, and becomes world renowned, why not document its story?

“El Bulli: Cooking in Progress” is a pure documentary in a sense; that’s no praise.  While most documentaries are edited to create a story structure and reveal memorable characters, this film avoids that.

The opening shot seizes our attention: the chief chef, Ferran Adrià, is in the dark sucking on a piece of glow-in-the-dark fish on a stick.  That’s cool.  Sadly, it’s also the just about the best part of this documentary.  The film-maker, Gereon Wetzel, omits any sense of artistic direction, or style or purpose.  Maybe you should call it observational movie-making?  He seems to have left the cameras on-location and merely edited the project for time and comprehensibility.  Maybe this is one of those films where a critic outside of the film’s target audience, oughtn’t write about it?

Yep. Cooking in progress (Courtesy: creative commons/flickr)

In a conversation with a different documentary film-maker, Morgan Spurlock, he mentioned someone that Werner Herzog said, “every cut is a lie.”  Well, none of the cuts used here are made in the interests of a story.  It ignores elementary rules of storytelling, which every working film-maker knows and uses to win an audience.

This opens at the Film Society of Mpls/St. Paul on Sept. 23.  The film-making should not be the focus.  It should be Spanish molecular gastronomy, which can transform a diner’s experience, and lift their dining standards.

After Mr. Adrià, the trio of co-executive chefs, Oriol Castro, Eduard Xatruch and Mateu Casanas, are emphasized, but we only get shallow gists of any of them, who they are or why they do their work.

Divided roughly in two, the film shows the testing and experimentation process and then how the chef foursome, and the restaurant team make the successful experiments work for diners.  Their serving process must abide by military precision; their diners consume 30 courses within three hours.

Another obstacle for you: their work is not just technical, but highly technical.  Too much so for those who aren’t either intensely curious, or foodies, or cooks themselves.

The chefs’ challenges might lose most other viewers.  It’s a shame because in a “60-Minutes” segment, from April 2010, one of Adrià’s protégés, José Andrés, who, according to renowned food critics, Ruth Reichl, is the pioneer in America of Molecular gastronomy, shows how exciting molecular gastronomy is!

If food excites you, but on a more common level, I urge you to watch a different, equally esoteric, but amusing story: PBS’ documentary, “Kings of Pastry,” about ambitious, competitive French pastry chefs.  It’s a superior example of a culinary documentary.  It’s exciting: it delivers drama, suspense and personal stories.

“Amigo,” John Sayles latest, is among the least of his works

“Amigo” is a historical drama from John Sayles, who made the fantastic “Honey Dripper” and “Lone Star.”  It’s too bad this take on a 1900s episode in U.S. war and foreign policy is one of Sayles’ weaker pieces, falling well short of those prior titles.
Around 1900, and during the Philippine-American war, a Philippino baryo (or barrio, as spelled in the U.S.) chief Rafael Dacanay (Joel Torre), faces a dilemma after U.S. Army troops come and occupy his community: either support his community, and family and quash that armed presence or support those troops, while his people doubt his allegiance, in order to survive?

(courtesy: images.google.com)

“Amigo” is boring for the most part, and slow.  This film lacks that intangible and inexplicable “oomph,” which a potent, memorable movie needs. It comes off as a well-financed, but earnest high school or college production.  Some of the actors, while skilled and well known to indie movie houses, merely walk through this.
This movie opens at the Film Society of Mpls./St. Paul on Friday Sept. 16th.  They’ve booked better movies.  But John Sayles has also made ‘em.
You remember how often you say, “hey, I always love so-an-so’s movies?”  Just like your friend adore “everything” that Martin Scorsese, Michael Mann, or Spike Lee does, or which Oliver Stone used to do.  When you look closely, as extraordinary as their talent is, each of them has also put out a few clunkers.  Have you considered that, while you love three or four of their works, you only really love 1/3 or 1/2 of what they’ve put out?  This one shouldn’t make that list.

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In “Griff the Invisible” an introverted Superhero has to a face world of “reality”

Griff, a 20-something social misfit, claims a haven from a wider world, where he’s a nerd.  “Griff the Invisible,” an Australian film, directed by Leon Ford, is a story of 20-something and left over teen angst burst to life, on-screen.

When most people don’t get or appreciate you, it makes for a small life.  You might question your sanity or at least stability.  You’re often isolated, and bullied.

The last time you felt like a misfit, how’d you try to fix that?  Did you reach out, strain yourself to become social, more sociable?  In 1986′s “Lucas,” the title character tried, but that fell flat.  In 1953′s “From Here to Eternity” after his girl wonders if he takes her seriously, Pvt. Pruitt tells her, “No.  No one lies about being lonely.”

Griff the "Invisible?" (Courtesy: Indomina)

But you try to fix the misfitness, quash it.  Did you reach into your imagination, into a comic book-like mental tool kit?

The movies’ opening title: Oscar Wilde  “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth,” lays out how we’re to take reality.

Griff (Ryan Kwanten) takes this to heart.  What if you were a hero with super powers, which made you special, interesting to others (if they knew) and provided a sense of self and power that you don’t have in real life?  Would you take that?  Griff did at least according to his imagination’s eye.  As real as the John Nash’s delusions in 2001′s “A Beautiful Mind.”

This highly stylized film opens at the Lagoon Cinema on September 9th.

Griff has a banal job with a banal company, where he’s bullied and misunderstood, as he was throughout school.  He finds an outlet in acting out like a small town Batman, after work, wearing a costume.  Small ones; he wants to help vulnerable women.  He sees himself as a hero, but only neighborhood-bound – within a few bus stops from his apartment!

Soon we’re introduced to Griff’s brother, Tim (Patrick Brammall),  who feels responsible to Griff as his one sympathetic anchor to “normalcy.”  Tim visits Griff with his introverted girlfriend, Melody (Maeve Dermody), in tow.  Soon it’s clear that she clicks with Griff, while not with his brother.  They exchange glances while big brother is oblivious.

Can nerds find love? (Courtesy: Indomina)

What!  The introvert might just get the girl?  Each starts to bump into the other, and trying to avoid Tim, and inevitably awkward questions.  After a while Melody tells Griff: “I live in a bubble that no one gets in!  Griff.  You get into my bubble.”

Then we have a dramatic wrinkle: we see that Griff’s powers, his alternative world, is closed to the known world; it’s solely a figment of his imagination.  The super suit we see is seen through his mind’s eyes only.  And then doubly powered by his and Melody’s. That’s an interesting crack in the fourth wall of movie “reality” and imagination!  Comic book movies, such as “Spiderman” or any of the “Batman” or “X-Men” franchises and others omit the possibility of those questions.

Griff contrasts a reality of social isolation with one of a comic book reality and Griff’s need for release.

Late in the movie harsh reality seems to intrude.  Melody joins Griff as his back up on a mission to save the mayor, with Tim in tow.  Here Tim insists on talking reality with her.  Breaking down the pieces of their “mission” and “special equipment.”  She tells Tim: “He’s a freak.  He’d never fit in at dinner with my family.  But so am I!”  A crisis: Griff overhears this, but only until the signal was dropped.

He wants her.  He’ll change!  But then there’s a grand, tragic irony: after he has decided to grow-up, has thrown away all his hero crap and tried normalcy, Melody turns cold.  I would have loved you forever.”  Separated by his apartment door, they both cry over an opportunity gone.

“Griff the Invisible” is brief, fun, smart and semi-innovative.

“The Names of Love” is a fantastic French romantic dramedy about two clashing lovers

“The Names of Love” (« Les noms des gens » in French) is a story, from director Michel Leclerc, that one could easily say is “so French.”  It pits Baya Benmahmoud (Sara Forestier), a 20-something, hypersexual, left-winger, born of an Algerian dad, against Arthur Martin (Jacques Gamblin) a middle-aged healthcare professional born of a Jewish mom.  They clash politically and ideologically.  But they face an undeniable chemistry despite occasionally rational thought.

This shows at the Edina Cinema for a week from August 26th.

Baya Benmahmood (Sara Forestier) is a lefty charmer in "The Names of Love" (courtesy Music Box Films)

Still each tries to be rational because they don’t know how they could be together and not go nuts, or kill each other, if not both!  Arthur is the story’s star, but also Baya’s milquetoast straight man in this fantastic, joyous and hilarious story.

The first scene is indelible.  Arthur is on-air on the radio in the middle of discussing bird flu on a call-in show.  Baya shows up at the station for work, screening the show’s calls.  Finding his ideas dangerous, she abandons her cube and barges into the studio, and then calls Arthur out, with animated zeal.

The story follows this clashing couple’s relationship from accidental meetings to meant ones and the milestones.  Their romance’s absurd comedy feels like a smart version of Abbott & Costello.

After that auspicious beginning they go to an eatery where Baya offers Arthur sex on the first date – that’s her policy.  She strikes him dumb and speechless, and he flees the awkwardness and opportunity.  His daily luck with women?  Let’s put this way: to steal a line from The Prince of Tides: “he had the opposite of the Midas touch!”

Baya meets Arthur's conservative parents in "The Names of Love" (courtesy Music Box Films))

The first act’s mania and hilarity follow the first sequence’s lead: Baya and Arthur each tells us how they were brought up and by what sort of parents.  Arthur’s memory plays games on him, and in-turn on the story.  For example: he can’t imagine his dad when he was young.  No matter how young he should be in his son’s flashback, like as a college freshman he looks like a retiree, and loopily out-of-place.  It’s often hilarious.  It works.  With Baya, there’s less drama.  Her mom was a daughter of middle-class privilege who rebelled, eventually loving an Algerian, a former soldier.  Her memory plays tricks in different, subtler ways.

Her sexual conduct and attitude has a political agenda.  She lives by the creed “make love, not war.”  She uses it as a weapon, as another prong of rhetoric.  Kind of like a one-off from Carl VonClausewitz’s “On War:” a continuation of political struggle by erotic or erotic and rhetorical means.  She uses her erotic and sensual skills to convert her conservative foes to her way of seeing.

Strolling in "The Names of Love" (courtesy Music Box Films)

“The Names of Love” provides a bounty of charming, witty, amusing characters, scenes and sequences and touches of technique.  And these at such a quick pace that we’re swept up.  It’s not profound.  It is a profound gem in how it can make a viewer smile, chuckle and then guffaw.

Other sight gags: in other important scenes, the camera plays with point of view. This works some subtly potent wonders; it shows a two-shot of a couple, that makes sense, and then pans to reveal a third wheel that changes the scene’s meaning entirely.

Because of temporary “lessons” with her piano teacher as a child, subtly played out, the college-aged Baya holds none of a common sexual or erotic conservatism that’s familiar to most Americans.  If a tit peaks or bounds out of her often loose blouse by accident, it’s a non-event to her.

In one of the many memorable sequences they meet accidentally each other at a polling place.  There, she offers him sex again.  On the way to that, they stop at a grocery.  In line, she flees to find the last vital ingredient, coriander.

And then her scattered brain goes full-tilt: she runs into someone.  He reminds her to make a 180 degree change in plans.  Not toreturn to Arthur, but to prepare for a party.  She goes home to collect something, strips, forgets to dress, and then leaves home to take care of yet another scatterbrained errand.  On the way, she passes the market, naked save for boots.  Arthur, incredulous, seesher.  He’s still waiting for her inside.  This concisely summarizes the movie’s looniness and charms.

Baya and Arthur charm each other in "The Names of Love" (courtesy Music Box Films)

La pièce de résistance: before the mania of that sequence ends Baya winds up on a train flashing a Muslim couple the female half of which is dressed in what is almost a burqa.

This witty, funny, often hilarious film will suit you whether or not you want to think; it provides an intelligent escape.  The romance’s common peaks and valleys are drawn with great gaiety.

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