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Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, Spain, 2006) February 16, 2009

Posted by Daniel Stephens in : Horror, 2000s, Drama, Film reviews, Sci-fi/Fantasy, War, Foreign Language , add a comment

There’s a simple, innocent beauty amidst Guillermo Del Toro’s harrowing tale of one girl’s desperation to escape during the bloody Spanish Civil War. Set just after the D-Day landings at Normandy in 1944, Pan’s Labyrinth sees a pregnant mother and daughter travelling to see the unborn child’s father - a Captain in the oppressive Spanish army - who is based at an outpost to stop advancing revolutionaries. The daughter - Ofelia (Ivana Baguero) - knows that the man who has fathered her half-brother is not interested in either her or her mother. She feels at once betrayed by her mother for bringing her to this awful place and yet their love is unbreakable, and at the same time fearful and untrusting of Captain Vidal. She is given the chance to escape this terrible world when visited by a Faun who tells her she is a Princess from another world. She can return to her kingdom if she completes three magical tasks. [Click HERE for FULL REVIEW]

City Of God (Fernando Meirelles/Katia Lund, 2002, Brazil) March 25, 2007

Posted by Daniel Stephens in : 2000s, Drama, Film reviews, Crime, Foreign Language , 1 comment so far

I’ve heard Fernando Meirelles and Katia Lund’s 2002 Oscar-nominated film to be likened to Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. Much like Antonia Bird’s drama Priest (2004) been likened to The Exorcist because they both feature members of the church questioning their own faith, the two films couldn’t be more dissimilar. Take away the theme of crime and the time-switching narrative and you’ve got two films as far apart as the geographical regions where they were filmed. City Of God isn’t interested in over-stylised characters that overplay the merits of the metric system or theatrical violence and pop-culture references, it cuts far closer to the bone than that. And perhaps most importantly, unlike Pulp Fiction, City Of God seeks to tell us something we didn’t already know – and I’m not talking about the French new wave.

The most telling sequence of Cicade De Deus (its Portuguese title) arrives somewhere near the middle when Handsome Ned, a law-abiding but unfortunate citizen of the slum, is beaten and forced to watch the rape of his girlfriend. When he returns home his family try to calm him down – he’s understandably angry and wants to make those responsible pay for their actions. Meanwhile, the gang who raped his girlfriend decide they should have killed him so head to his house. In the ensuing gun battle, two of Ned’s family are fatally shot, while he is left with a much greater punishment – he is alive, left to dwell on the last few hours for the rest of his life. His need for revenge takes him to the local drug lord and a late introduction to a life of guns, cocaine, and crime.

However, Handsome Ned is, at first, only interested in revenge. He hates the drugs and doesn’t want his new found gang to commit murder, but he soon becomes embroiled in the day to day business of unlawful profiteering, and it isn’t long before he is the one with the gun in his hand standing over a dead body. It isn’t a profound resonance within the story that stands out, it’s rather simple – the good man is brutally wronged and turns to revenge. Yet it is a distinct resonance, one which beats terrifically hard at the bloody heart of the movie. Growing up in this slum does not mean you are thrown unwillingly into a gun-toting generation who can’t read or write, where drugs become a staple part of your diet, and the police are as much a threat as your best friends, it’s simply part of everyday life. Being unwilling is hardly questioned by anyone in the movie – you are simply part of that lifestyle whether you like it or not. The degree to which you exploit it defines the people of the city of God (crime lord Li’l Ze kills his rivals to control the drugs and gun business; Handsome Ned joins forces with a rival gang to wage a revenge war against Li’l Ze who was responsible for the rape of his girlfriend; and narrator Rocket becomes the newspaper’s inside man, photographing the violence for the rest of the world to see).

The film’s narrator Rocket produces the slight glimmer of hope from the city no one wants anything to do with. His dream isn’t governed by money or power (indeed, the fact he wants a camera champions the power of art as an escape form, and with respect to the film itself, the opportunity to shed light on a subject that would otherwise be left closed off from the outside world). Rocket’s dalliance with crime is beautifully portrayed by Meirelles and Lund – the will-he-won’t-he commit robbery is nicely underplayed. But in all this the directors remain very truthful to both the humanity and brutal nature of this life in the slum. The violence is never over-stylised but they don’t hold back any punches, while even the most hardened and psychotic are given their moment of salvation. In one of the film’s most poignant moments, Li’l Ze is left to ponder his best friend falling in love with a girl and leaving the slum. For what could be a matter of seconds he appears to wonder what could have been – could he find love, could he find happiness – before the moment passes and his need for power and control leads the film to another of its shocking and brutal moments.

Mierelles and Lund hold back, however, the film’s most devastating and ugly aspect until the end. Like an after-thought (very much a metaphor for the way the children of the slum are left to grow up and supplement this cycle of violence and crime) Rocket describes his first introduction to what he calls ‘the runts’. This group of children begin life with nothing but crime to look forward to. In the film’s defining moment, Li’L Ze’s gang corner two of the children. He blames them for breaking his own rules for the slum. The kids, who couldn’t be more than ten or eleven years old, cower in a corner, crying and obviously very frightened. Li’l Ze taunts them before asking them what they would prefer – a bullet in the hand or the foot. They gingerly hold out their hands after much persuasion but he shoots them in the foot anyway. He then orders one of his own gang – who couldn’t be much older than the children – to choose one child and shoot them dead. Meirelles and Lund film the whole sequence with jumpy cuts and handheld camerawork. Simply put, the whole scene couldn’t be any more realistic.

A minute passes while the gang member chooses his victim. You can see he doesn’t want to do it but he knows he’ll be killed too if he fails the task. He aims at one of the boys and shoots. The whole sequence is an ugly but superbly-crafted precursor to the film’s finale when the other members of the ‘runts’ take revenge by killing Li’l Ze and thus propagating the cycle of murder, violence and crime in the slum. The lasting image Meirelles and Lund leave us with is the ‘runts’ creating a black list of everyone they don’t like. Their plan: to shoot them all dead. Welcome to the next generation.

City Of God is a brilliant, perfectly-crafted film that is quite probably the best film to be released in 2003. It was nominated for four Academy Awards in 2004 (the year the third Lord of the Rings movie won best film seemingly be default), and won a Bafta for best editing.

Rating: 5 out of 5 

The Vanishing (George Sluizer, France/Holland, 1988) August 13, 2006

Posted by Daniel Stephens in : Horror, 1980s, Drama, Film reviews, Crime, Foreign Language , add a comment

Dir. George Sluizer; screenplay by George Sluizer; starring Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu, Gene Bervoets, Johanna ter Steege

George Sluizer’s 1988 film is a subtle thriller set in France, where a man loses his girlfriend after being separated at a petrol station. Three years later he is obsessed with finding out what happened to her as no trace was ever found. This destroys his new relationship and threatens to break the very fabric of his reality. Yet, Sluizer casually breaks convention, discarding the obvious point of suspense by telling us who did it, and making us privy to this psychotic character’s lifestyle and habits. The film isn’t bothered about usual narrative logic, choosing to focus on the victim’s psyche and the kidnapper’s disturbing motive. It is the boyfriend’s obsession with finding out what happened to his girlfriend three years ago that drives the film, and with it the audience, to its devastating climax.

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