I'm stumbling in the dark, groping for the light switch. I drank some terrible port, and my balance is questionable. I fall to the ground with a noisy crash.
Without knowing anything about the film, the title gives it away - a movie where the centerpiece is likely to be the reproduction of an execution by stoning. This is deep, heavy material, and I admit it was with some trepidation that I watched this, never quite sure if I'd be ready for The Stoning of Soraya M.
Fortunately, the film is quite engrossing, using the book as background material - written in 1994, it describes the true story told to a French-Iranian journalist as he was passing through a village. Told by Soraya's aunt, the story unravels the deceit and lies told by the men in the village, using the convenient charge of adultery to stone Soraya to death.
What was Soraya's charge? The movie is quite one-sided on this: she was falsely accused by her husband, who only wanted a divorce, but did not want to pay her to support herself. Using his connection with the corrupt local mullah, he convinced the men in the village that she was a lusty woman, mostly because she smiled at a widower.
The men in The Stoning of Soraya M are portrayed as awful thugs, manipulating and cavorting in their supremacy over women - this, perhaps, is the weakness of the film, which also suffers in its predictability and exploitation of the stoning scene.
None of this matters, however, as director Cyrus Nowrasteh's feature offers that incandescent ability of the cinema: it can give you the experience of being there. Without this film, I would have, perhaps, continued to complain about Sydney traffic and look forward to a Scotch after work.
As it is, I'm haunted by the admission that, in some places in the world, this can happen. Worse that this, too, if you really want to think about it - but I'm already dejected from the miserable depiction of the pack-like mentality of men that think they are right.
It'd be easy to be nihilistic about this - after watching The Stoning of Soraya M, I'm glad I don't have my finger on the big, red button - but I can't help but wonder: are men responsible for all the evils in the world? A world without men, as told by Y:The Last Man, is as cruel and violent when led by women. That's comforting - or disturbing - but, after watching The Stoning of Soraya M, it's hard to believe that things would be any worse.
Living in the city is great - we live in relative security, there's movies playing every week, and, in NYC, you can buy 12 different kinds of grilled cheese sandwiches at 2 in the morning.
Well... sure, it's great, but there's something missing, especially if you're male. Living in a modern society requires men to abandon all the things that we've got buried deep down inside: anger, the propensity for violence, the need for superiority.
The things that are left? Uncertainty, shame, insecurity - and these are not qualities that endear us to the women that we desire.
"Men in the City", the newest film from Simon Verhoeven, depicts this issue, offering a movie about five men who all work out at the same gym, and who are all uniquely incapable of finding happiness in today's world.
Yes, they are losers, all of them. The obvious ones: a deadbeat who thinks he's too good for a job, the desperate romantic who turns off every woman he meets, and the angry, possessive husband who gets violent.
The last two are illusionary: one a successful, good-looking advertising executive, about to get married and buy a house. And last, a music producer, well-built and rich, sleeping with hordes of women and making commitments to no one.
It's an easy film to watch, quick-moving and amusing, with plenty of laugh-out-loud moments. The story switches quickly from character to character, and even though each of the five men are rather 2-dimensional, added weight is provided by Verhoeven's patience, lingering on faces in closeup.
It's easy to see the confusion on their faces - each of them is inept, unprepared to deal with the modern world, and they're constantly told that they should be more romantic, more masculine, more relaxed, more successful. Well, it's not enough, apparently.
The film is a little clumsily structured, with the plot elements a little too farfetched, but I forgive all of this for the subject matter. Even though it has been done before, "Men in the City" is delightful, both comic and sad, and a fine, fine movie to watch with your partner, laughing beside you.
While it may sound like a fearsome cocktail, or a film about the concoction, "Whiskey and Vodka" only uses the title liquors in one scene, when the older, famous actor Otto, drinks his vodka with his understudy, Arno.
Instead, the film, directed by Andreas Dresen, looks to tell the story of a famous actor, loved by all, but lost in the self-despair of alcoholism and arrogance. Otto knows that he's on the last lap of his career, and is unable to remove himself from the pedestral - showered with adulation from his colleagues and the media, he is, nevertheless, unbelievably lonely.
Things get worse when Otto ruins a day's shooting by secretly getting drunk on set, forcing the producer to find an understudy, a younger man that is still trying to break from theatre to film. Arno desperately craves the status and prestige that Otto has, but is unable to find his place, clumsily advancing on the female cast and crew, and trying to insert his own opinions into the production.
Dresen's film is plodding, and perhaps aimless, attempting to strike that wonderful vertex where a film can freely meander, yet is utterly compelling. The natural comparison is between "Whiskey and Vodka" to the movies of Woody Allen - there's even some whimsical Dixieland jazz on the soundtrack - but this German imitator falls short.
"Whiskey and Vodka" does entertain, however, as Henry Hubchen does a nuanced turn as Otto, who seems cast from the mold of Klaus Kinski - though nothing on celluloid could accurately portray the mad genius Kinski, who once wrote that "virtues can be faked; depravities are real".
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the film is what happens in the background - as the actors play their little games, we see the production stutter and shamble, aching to move forward. We see the stress on the director, who loses control of the film, and his cast, but is the voice of authority where he has no authority. Most of all, we see the conceit of the director, who desires to be an 'auteur', but, in all, appears to be making a silly movie.
We have plenty of movies about the trials of being a teenager, and you would think that the film-going population would be weary of it by now. Do we need another Fast Times at Ridgemont High or Dazed and Confused
Jack Charles was a familiar face on the Australian film and theatre scene in the 60s and 70s - a distinctive Indiginous actor, he appeared in over a hundred productions, on stage, on celluloid and on television. Now, at the age of 60, as he wanders homeless through the Melbourne suburbs, he seems to have blossomed, even as he finds despair and hardship in his old age, comforted by the cold nails of heroin
Maria Sole Tognazzi's latest drama awakened the interest of many dormant film enthusiasts, looking forward to a rich, heavy atmosphere, led by the stellar cast of Monica Bellucci, Ksenia Rappoport and Pierfrancesco Favino.
"The Man Who Loves (L'uomo che ama)" gives us a dark story, encased in shadows and pain; Roberto is a pharmacist who is unable to sleep despite his luscious silk sheets and neatly trimmed apartment; his life a pale reflection of misery, despite the fact that everything looks right on paper
It's good fortune to have this in the festival after The French Kissers made it to Australia. Go see both, Matt - these films reek to pieces of the trauma of being a teenager!
It's not a compelling film at all, unfortunately, but I appreciate what Herzog was trying to accomplish...
...I read an interview with Herzog that said that he screened the movie with an audience that underwent hypnosis and it went very, very well. He wanted to make a link between the actors that were hypnotized on film and the audience that would hypnotize themselves... I wonder if that would work?
JD, thanks... good to see you're around... this is a very interesting film, surprisingly touching without being manipulative.
Fog, you're definitely right... seems like the director was more than an observer. Charles also used the director for access to legal representation and dealing with the police. Not sure how it'll all turn out...
Matt, no voice over, thankfully... dubbing into English is the most heinous crime of all... was Red Cliff dubbed? Ah... go out of your way to see the original two-part movie!
Rusty - Infernal Affairs is definitely worth buying, and even "The Departed" is fun watching...
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