“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.

“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.

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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“Point Blank” is a French thriller that gives good chase. Good smart chase.

“Point Blank” starts just as its title does, without foreplay.  The first shot jolts us into a story, of smart escapism.

On a typical workday Samuel (Gilles Lellouche), a nursing assistant in France, tries to stop a suspicious hospital visitor in a lab coat from messing with an injured criminal, Hugo Sartet (Roschdy Zem), being treated after having fled an attack.  He pursues the man in a lab coat, but merely shoos him.  In another world that wouldn’t even be a blip.

Too bad he and his pregnant wife, Nadia Pierret (Elena Anaya), are in for the shock of their lives: someone breaks in to their apartment and seizes her before he can see or sense anything.  But why?

Sam leaps into a situation well beyond him

“Point Blank,” from director Fred Cavayé, opens at Minneapolis’ Lagoon Cinema on August 19th.

This event up-ends loving pregnant couple, Sam and Nadia’s, work-a-day urban life, like a chainsaw.  Sam must deliver a dangerous package – that seasoned, violent criminal – to the man who has taken his pregnant wife.  His pregnant wife is in the middle of a volatile pregnancy.  The stakes couldn’t be more grave or personal.

This resembles a familiar, iconic character, right?  Smart and ambitious, Samuel is an ordinary man who’s thrown into extraordinary circumstances of crime, betrayal and corruption.  Remember Roger Thornhill in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1954 “North By Northwest,” or simply 1993′s “The Fugitive.”

The worlds of Sam, the abductor, and Hugo, his hostage, collide; the irony is that the innocent one is the abductor, pushed to desperation, to muscle and hustle a real criminal away from his guarded hospital bed to freedom.

The biggest irony is probably that these two disparate men amount to a good pair!  They cooperate with each other when one of his agendas – Hugo’s safety, or Sam’s, but particularly Nadia’s – is jeopardized.  This, while they spend most of their time tugging and yanking each other into opposite, rarely natural directions.  Against the American stereotype of non-Anglo criminals, Hugo is consistently calmer than Sam.  He’s also a complex, thoughtful semi-compassionate criminal, with copper skin and wooly hair.  In American crime stories, the brown, black or beige criminal is either foolish or viscious, if not both.

"Hostage" Hugo isn't to be trifled with

At 83-mins, “Point Blank” is just long enough to be seen as a feature-length film, but it still feels like a full movie.  When as an American, you think of a French thriller, “La Femme Nikita” pops to mind, and even “Taken,” although the latter merely takes place in Paris.  “Point Blank” is fast-paced, and has wit.  For a thriller, a chase thriller that’s rare.  It provides more than the basics: characters we care about and a gripping plot.

Another interesting surprise: when’s the last time you got opera music in a thriller, it fit and worked for you?  “The Man Who Knew Too Much,” with Jimmy Stewart, had an orchestra scene, hmm almost a motif, but that’s different.­  Well, after an intense chase scene (one among many) we get this vocal, which let’s the pace and our hearts slow down.

“Point Blank” borrows music and specific shots from “The Bourne Ultimatum” and takes cues from Bernard Hermann’s music, which marked a few different Hitchcock oeuvres, such as “The Man Who Knew Too Much.”  It’s worth noting that family, the protection of family is at the heart of both that film and “Point Blank.”  That’s atypical for a thriller.

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“Life Above All” is a simple, but potent story about coming-of-age in the face of a taboo plague

In South Africa we have the story of a girl, Chanda (Khomotso Mankaya), who has to confront stigmas that hurt her small one-parent family, which is led by her mother, Esther (Keaobaka Makanyane). It’s “Life, Above All,” by Oliver Schmitz.

We start when Chanda runs an errand to take care of her youngest sister, Sarah’s, funeral.  She died from a plague that no one discusses.  Above all, in dealing with life, theirs is a story about survival: how they pay their bills, deal with  shameful rumors and the sneers from their neighbors are open questions.

Mom and daughter keep hope tight between them (courtesy Sony Classics)

This simple story, about a complicated fight to survive disease and ignorance, both willful and desperate, will show at the Lagoon Cinema starting on August 5th.  This story is interesting, beginning too slowly, and getting and giving us its bearings about half-way through.

Chanda, headstrong and critically thoughtful, lives in a provincial, barely educated culture that’s more invested in religion and superstition than in education.  She succeeded in school until her family’s burdens, especially Sarah’s death, began to weigh on her.  She stands-up for her mom’s health, and stands up to the rumors, deadbeat dad and her traditional family’s scorn, and superstitious neighbors who disdain her.

The plague finally takes the steam out of Chanda’s mom, who is moved away, out of view of gossip mongers.  After what seems like weeks without parents,  Chanda tracks down her mom, having to ignore some neighbors’ misdirection on the way.  Chanda’s smart enough to understand that some questions and topics are beyond herself; she needs her mom.

It's hard for an 11 year-old to lead a family (courtesy Sony Classics)

This simple, but gripping coming-of-age story is worth watching.

As with Ree Dolly, from 2010′s splendid “Winter’s Bone,” Chanda must grow-up too early and too quickly, around people for whom education is simply an extra.  For her it promises an array of freedoms.   She faces a short, but hard journey as she tracks down her mom and needs to suck comfort from that.

Ms. Mankaya’s performance as Chanda is potent; her talent is either natural or her craft so formidable that her nuances and touches make Chanda live, be real.  Just as with Jennifer Lawrence’s extraordinary, under-appreciated performance in “Winter’s Bone,” Mankaya her character a similar subtlety.

Broader takeaways: “Life, Above All” is a decent film about a simple family, who must deal with a merciless, taboo disease and neighbors who won’t picture themselves beyond superstitions.  These people’s lives are basic.  They’re prepared for no questions more ambitious than “how do I feed myself and children?”

One reason to watch Chanda’s and her family story: she is prepared for those ambitions.  That’s a different kind of hunger.

“Bride Flight” is a great romantic drama about three disparate 1950s brides who reunite in 2000s

“Bride Flight” is an engrossing, dramatic romance from the Netherlands, and director Ben Sombogaart.  According to the film’s website, the story was inspired by 1953′s Last Great Air Race, from London to New Zealand.  Three eligible & engaged women meet on the bride flight, and in the process are touched and beguiled by a magnetic outdoorsman, Frank de Booy (Waldemar Torenstra when young, Rutger Hauer when old).

Marjorie (Elise Schapp) is photographed for record-breaking posterity (courtesy Music Box Films)

Each is bound to meet a man, other than him, who is all but a stranger to her, and choose between doors one and two à la “Let’s Make A Deal.”

This plays at the Edina Theater for a week starting on June 17th.

The flight’s turbulence ensures moments that attach each of them to the other for a generation to come, and more, whether they think they want to or not.  That’s where they click with one another; the flight leaves them shaken and stirred!  It sparks fears of flight, mortality and other equally profound personal qualms and questions.  Each of these beauties and their stories is drawn and portrayed fully, beyond being simply one-offs of archetypes or stereotypes.

Frank de Booy (Rutger Hauer) beguiles each woman while marrying neither of them (courtesy Music Box Films)

We find a sheltered, pregnant and buxom blonde beauty Ada van Holland (Karina Smulders when young, and Pleuni Touw when old).  who’s also sweet and provincial.  And she’ll find a polite, self-righteously religious man who’s morality is rigid.

Another bride is a pretty, flamboyant fashion designer, Esther (Anna Drijver, when young, and Willeke van Ammelrooy when old), She’s an independent-minded Jew who lost all biological ties in WWII; her persona and sensibility are out–of–time and –place for mid-20th-Century New Zealand – or anywhere.  She finds an affable, but conservative conformist.  Quickly she knows that, as he chafes her, she will him – much more so.  She ditches him and gets into “trouble” as pregnancy was called then.

This leads to a complex subplot with the final woman, Marjorie (Elise Schaap when young, and Petra Laseur when old), a beautiful, cheery brunette who hasn’t yet any backstory or baggage.  It’s she who winds up with the most conventional path.

This is a story more about the detours that these women’s lives take incidentally, than whatever plan that any of them had laid out on a map.  They get to know Frank better than they do either of their fiancés; Frank shuffles the playing cards in their minds.  As John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy doing other things.”

This film makes images from 1994′s “Legends of the Fall” and 1995′s “The Bridges of Madison County” bubble up in our minds: Frank is both the disrupting and uniting force in these beauties’ lives, like Tristan Ludlow in “Legends of the Fall;” Ada is like Francesca Johnson in “The Bridges of Madison County,” which takes place around the same time.  She’s cruelly torn between obliging love for her children, and erotic love for that flight connection.  Like Ludlow, Frank is the rock that each of these women though broke themselves against.

Esther (Anna Drijver) and Frank (Waldemar Torenstra) remain connected despite life's storms (courtesy Music Box Films)

There’s a power in the details, the nuances, the moments, which tell what dialogue, no matter how precise or eloquent, can.  It shares this with Robert Redford’s sensual and attentive visual style.  For example: the glances and body language between Ada and Frank.  In a scene where she tries on Esther’s wedding dress in the plane’s bathroom, and he walks in to check it out (airborne bathrooms must’ve been roomy then!).  This’s a great, chuckle-worthy scene.

In another, later in the flight Frank dozes off seated beside Ada, with has hand resting in a lewd spot.  When she wakes up, she blushes but doesn’t budge it.  In addition upon landing there are moments between Esther and her betrothed, which show they are clearly mismatched!  The mismatch is subtler between Ada and hers.  When she meets he and his father, one of her blouse buttons is unfastened.  The flight was rocky!

That rockiness leaves us wondering about and hoping for a continued spark between Frank and Ada beyond the airport.

After the pivotal flight, Esther and Marjorie make a poisonous pact, creating a dilemma.  On one end, when Esther is pregnant and her daring goals preclude her from keeping it; and on the other, Marjorie yearns for a child, but finds troubling news, that it’ll nary happen.  She and her husband take on Esther’s baby, but she holds chip on her shoulder because of how they got it.  That grabs us and creates a key subplot.  But when Ada’s story comes back in to play, after having begun with plum gusto before our characters land, it feel like when need to ask why this cherry star-crossed romance was put off.

The climax comes up as an afterthought – flacid – against these women’s great dramas.  But that criticism is petty against a strong drama with the quality of characters and portrayals that we receive, and the glimpse that “Bride Flight” gives us into the bounds of women’s opportunities in the middle of the 20th-Century.

“Applause” deserves a round. Paprika Steen shows an actor’s humanity within the tumult of redemption

“Applause” is an almost feature-length movie from Denmark, and director Martin Zandvliet.  It’s about a well-known, middle-aged actress, Thea Barfoed (Paprika Steen), who’s struggling to move beyond her toxic personal life.  She’s a recently divorced, recovering alcoholic who yearns to see her children again after having literally struck fear into them.

Paprika Steen needs "Applause" to keep up appearances

“Applause,” showing at the Film Society of Minneapolis/St. Paul from June 10th, is good.  You feel for Thea even when you don’t want to.

We see her in two settings: as an actress on-stage arguing with an unseen foe and as a mom off-stage fighting addiction and fighting to spend time with her two sons, William (Otto Leonardo Steen Rieks) and Matthias (Noel Koch-Søfeldt).  The bits we see of her performance on-stage are deftly used two-fold: to show her power as an actor and to show how that performance can reflect her broken, needy “former” self.  Because while she plays someone else, that character is no fiction, but her as she was before daring to recover.

She’s angry, bitter and has a lot of regrets or at least a few big ones.  She keeps those reigned beneath a skilled mask of friendliness that she struggles to hold still.  Her ex-hubby Christian (Micheal Falch) is wary of her, and weary after having left her and taken their sons away from her violent hands.  But he knows she’s made progress.  This story is about what unfolds after a key conversation.

Even if you’re won by the poster or DVD case, you might underestimate “Applaus” if you see how brief it is; you might assume that such a brief story would be mediocre.  85-minutes is as a short as a film can be and still be a feature.  This film could be short and succeed because it’s about the woman, and those in her immediate life.  The characters, other than she, her ex-husband Michael and their sons and his new wife, are minor.  As she’s a constellation – they don’t matter.

As she tells Christian that, away from the stage (where she isn’t herself) she sits or paces in her apartment, she has nothing else – no anchor, apart from alcoholics’ meetings, for her life.  She’s a mess.  Her life’s a mess.  Having contact with her sons would give her a life – or a reason for one.

Thea clings to her ex's new wife, and hopes of time with her boys.

Most movies are concerned with placating, and amusing, but not challenging viewers.  Maybe the messy movies are the most potent.  The story’s strong as are the performers.  Most people know someone just as screwed up as Thea.  They’re probably related to their own version. Those stories, which put us off because they’re too close to reality, they make us shift in our seats.  That’s good.  Why not?

“Applaus” is simple in many ways.  The best stories have simple premises.  It has a petty problem: its look.  Maybe it’s not a “problem,” but something literally foreign to North American viewers.  While the lighting is awkward and even off-putting, you can’t ignore the look – definitely indie.  But you get used to it.

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