JCVD

JCVD (dir. Mabrouk El Mechri)

* * * 1/2

One of the year's most bracing films, Mabrourk El Mechri dark comedy JCVD is likely to divide audiences and critics with its intensely post-modern approach and love-it-or-hate-it commentary on fame, self-worth and pectoral muscles. JCVD stands for the film's star, Jean-Claude Van Damme, and the film follows a fictionalized version of Van Damme as he dredges his way through a dreary existence based loosely on the star's real life. His finances are in ruins (Steven Seagal has cut off his ponytail to steal a role from under his nose), his young daughter provides damning testimony at a custody hearing, and his years as an action star are taking a toll on his dignity and health. When he needs an emergency influx of cash to pay his legal bills, he finds himself caught in a very Dog Day Afternoon-esque heist at a post office. (One goon's similarity to John Cazale can't be accidental.) Forget Pascal Laugier's arty gore flick - Van Damme is the year's true martyr, wilfully and explicitly setting afire his scores of two-dimensional action films and delivering a vulnerable (though admittedly limited) performance as a man tired of playing hero when he feels like a failure. The litmus test for many viewers will be the dramatic moment in which Van Damme obliterates the fourth wall (and the ceiling) to discuss the nature of celebrity, his feelings of inadequacy as a human being, and the nature of the very film you're watching. Some will feel used and preached to. I, for one, was touched, and when Van Damme's eyes welled up, I must admit that mine did the same.

Adoration

Adoration (dir. Atom Egoyan)

* * * 1/2

After a string of critical flops, Atom Egoyan is back in a big way with the rich and vibrant Adoration, a complex portrait of teenhood, grief and simmering sociopolitical tension. Smart but oddball teen Simon (Devon Bostick) makes an unusual association while translating an article regarding Israeli airport security for an assignment from his French teacher Sabine (Arsinée Khanjian) - he envisions himself as the unborn baby kept in the womb of a woman carrying a bomb intended to obliterate a plane. In this new context, the woman is innocent, the explosive having been planted by the woman's husband - the unborn "Simon"'s father. As Simon works through the real-life family tragedy that informed the association, he also inadvertently stirs up a heated debate on the nature of victimhood and the wider ramifications of terrorism. Egoyan's ear for dialogue is impeccable, the performances are first-rate (particularly Bostick and Scott Speedmann as Simon's withdrawn but stalwart uncle) and, most importantly, the film is smart enough to evoke a potent mix of issues and emotional responses without pretending it holds the solutions to the complexities at hand.

881

881 (dir. Royston Tan)

* *

Sometimes delivering on the language held in press materials isn't actually a good thing. Described as a juxtaposition of Moulin Rouge and Lars von Trier's Dancer in the Dark, 881 works mostly as a showcase for some extravagant costume design and the occasional memorable tune. Taking place during the seventh month of the Chinese calendar, in which the spirits of the dead are said to emerge in the streets, 881 works more efficiently as a window into Singaporean social mores than as a coherent statement. In a state infamous for its repression of free speech and creative _expression, the Getai singers (competitive groups who face off in singing contests in the seventh month), with their outlandish costumes and often suggestive dance moves, seem to stand in for the wilder elements of society the state won't ultimately tolerate. After all, behind every flashy dance sequence there's the lingering threat of seperation or death if either of the principal demale characters enjoys "the touch of a man," and indeed, one of them is ultimately punished. Director Tan, previously a victim of the Singapore film board's strict censorship laws, uses an expressive visual palette, but the happy-go-lucky nature of the performances - as well as the largely comic nature of most of the film's dialogue - simply don't mesh with its numerous attempts at pathos (largely through the belabored use of cancer-derived imagery).

Let The Right One In

Let The Right One In

Thomas Alfredson

Sweden, 2008

Let the Right One In, also known as Let Me in, refers to an occult rule that a vampire apparently cannot enter someone’s house without an invite. Based on the bestselling children’s novel from John Ajvide Lindqvist, the movie is a Swedish twist on a vampire story.

The story follows 12-year-old Oskar a timid and introverted boy who finds himself the victim of high school bullies. Spending most of his days alone his imagination goes into overtime and Oskar begins to put together a notebook of newspaper clippings related to a string of local murders. One night he meets and befriends a mysterious girl, Eli, who has just moved in next door. Eli is a 200 year old vampire girl frequently forced to feed on the blood of innocents to stay alive. The two are drawn to each other for similar but different reasons. The children form a bond which transcends friendship and sexuality and Eli helps Oskar to stand up to his bullies while Oskar discovers love for the very first time.

The film may comes across has just another teen horror flick but it is much more than that. In fact I would go so far as calling this a modern day masterpiece. Swedish director Thomas Alfredson takes a fresh approach at the tired old vampire myth and uses the blood thirst as a richly layered theme of pre-adolescent lust, sexual experimentation and social alienation. It still follows the classic rules of the vampire mythology but twists each in new and clever way. Writer John Ajvide Lindqvist, responsible for both the book and screenplay mixes in the horror genre with a coming-of-age tale and a mysterious love story that explores the darker side of alienation. It’s dreamlike, hypnotic, horrific, poetic and a fine example of great film making.

The film starts deliberately slow, building up its pace accompanied by its moody score, and at times effective silence. The cinematography is stunning and makes great use of its outdoor winter shots. The handful of special effects sequences are inventively staged for maximum effect and while although the scares are few, when needed the violence is brutal and unforgiving. All this and did I forget to mention that it’s chilling ending, is one of the best endings I’ve seen in years.

Extraordinary performances, flawless scripting, stunning cinematography and one of the greatest directorial debuts in the last thirty years. Truly iconic, unforgettable and comes with the highest possible recommendation on my part. It is an instant classic. The winner of the Award for Best Narrative Feature at both the Tribeca and Fantasia film festival this year, JJ Abrams is currently seeking out the rights to a US remake. In the mean time I hope it finds its ways into more North American theatres and homes.

Listen to episode 43 for a more in depth review

Martyrs

1. 

Martyrs (dir. Pascal Laugier)

*

Supposedly the latest and greatest in the new wave of French horror (see also: Ils, Haute Tension, Frontiers, A L'Intérieur), Martyrs is in fact more of a masturbatory art project for perpetual 16-year-olds than anything resembling a coherent thriller. Structured (intentionally or otherwise) like an especially dire three-act play, opening with a gratuitously gruesome act of revenge, followed by a suspense-free "horror" segment that relies on a character's inner demons to attempt to procure scares (it doesn't work), and capped off with a half-hour of repetitious torture and ultimately one of the shallowest excuses for social commentary this reviewer has witnessed in ages in the form of a particularly wretch-inducing act of mutilation. Laugier would like to address worthwhile themes - that of women as the greatest historical victims of religious opportunism and of the search for contemporary proof of divinity - but those themes aren't really present in the film itself except as psychobabble to pad out the running length between bloody showcases. There might have been some legitimate thematic friction at work if Laugier had opted to make anything of his two female protagonists besides featureless victims - one abused since childhood, the other blandly compelled to follow - but instead they exist simply as objects to get kicked around. Laugier continues the trend inherent in Haute Tension of involving women's issues - there, in the form of female desire, and here, in the form of religious exploitation - only to exploit them as a hollow plot machination.