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Carlos Reygadas's
Battle in Heaven
Opens Friday, February 17, 2005
Landmark Sunshine Cinemas
143 East Houston Street on the Lower East Side
New York City

Reviewed by Brian Shirey

Astonishing and abrupt, Battle in Heaven is a Mexican film arrived straight off the international film fest circuit. Recently screened in Rotterdam (where I visited for a few days), it was an absolute sensation. They don’t hold back in Holland: The film’s European poster, a young woman naked and flat on her back, adorned every wall of every cinema in town. (They cleaned it up in the US – her long hair now covers certain strategic spots.) It’s a blunt image from an uncompromising movie. Battle in Heaven is a sexually explicit and artistically daring affront: Not escapist, not pleasant, not conventional… and completely unforgettable.

As a movie lover, I‘m impatient with films -- common in foreign-language and indie cinema -- that wallow in ugliness as a way to assure us of their significance and integrity. (In other words, “We’re not Hollywood.”) Initially, Battle in Heaven flirts with this approach. Directed by 2nd-timer Carlos Reygadas, it tells the sweaty story of Marcos, the “fatso” chauffeur of a Mexican general who is also expected to drive Ana, the boss’s luscious and misbehaved daughter. She has a secret: Prostitution. (Just for kicks, of course, because daddy is rich.) Marcos’ facilitates her double life, and in so doing, finds himself variably fantasizing about and actually engaging in a sexual relationship with her. (The film opens with graphic fellatio.) He is married to an unattractive woman who sells junk in a train station, and we see their sex life, too. Reygadas shows the couple in a love scene that is the most unglamorous I’ve ever seen in a film… in my life.

Had enough? I thought I did, but the film’s visual style creeps under the skin, even after one too many close-ups of Marcos’ heaving body. He’s perpetually inexpressive and disturbed. But the camera is alive to him, forcing us to see a man who would otherwise go unnoticed. Battle in Heaven is deeply concerned with this classic loser, who may remind some of sociopaths like Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver. But is there really a screw loose, or is he just building rage against the surroundings that continually oppress him?

You can feel his burden. Battle in Heaven is extraordinary, and unsettlingly certain, in showing a Mexico City sagging under overpopulation and abject poverty. Startling, for instance, is a lengthy shot of a sedan stopped at a gas station, and we watch as some 12 family members – including grandma – get out, one by one. It’s not a clown joke. A Bach chamber piece underscores the moment, a sad human spectacle off-set by the sublime. This is the world Marcos lives in, where pilgrimages to the city Basilica unite the poor masses and military maneuvers take place late at night.

It all catches up to our “hero” when, after an intensely observed attack of conscience, Marcos confesses a failed kidnapping scheme to Ana. Let’s face it – in the annals of crime, it’s not the smartest thing to try, but Mexico has been plagued by kidnapping-for-profit in recent years (see the Denzel film Man on Fire), and now amateurs are following the example set by the professionals. For Reygadas, it’s a spotlight on the way a desperate man can lose moral focus.

Here’s a warning -- Reygadas is not very interested in story once this set-up is established. In fact, he cites Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami as a favorite influence, because “with a facial expression, a camera angle, and some music, he tells you everything. That to me is the purest form of cinema.” For this reviewer, the case can not be overstated. Battle in Heaven will tax the patience of those who want the next juicy plot point, but all others take notice: This is a seriously powerful piece of cinema. Sometimes infuriating, sometimes pornographic, and documentary-like in its realism, the film follows a man searching for redemption in a crowded metropolis that seems to have passed him by. In Battle in Heaven, you’ll be asked to look as the camera does a slow 360 pan around a seedy neighborhood, and to listen to a bombastic coronation march as a stark sex scene dissolves into the national pride of a soccer game. The music – another dazzling choice – underlines a sadness that is individual, national… and epic.

The actors are non-professionals given sparse dialogue, but that’s OK because the cinematographer – ace pro Diego Martinez Vignetti – uses grand shots as if they were achingly recited monologues. Marcos is Marcos Hernandez, an actual Mexico City driver who is also (as in real life, according to the press notes) preternaturally quiet. As Ana, Anapola Mushkadiz captures both the girl’s brattiness, and her rather skewed affection for Marcos. The suggestion is that she understands their similarities.

Earlier this decade, Mexico produced two striking and stylistically innovative films, Amores Perros and Y Tu Mama Tambien. The latter may be remembered for its frank sexuality, played out against a road trip that shows a Mexico seemingly dying before our eyes. In Battle in Heaven, we see the forgotten souls of a population torn between need and faith. The almost religious attention given to Marcos and Ana’s highly class-conscious sex scenes are perhaps too intense; certainly, Reygadas is determined to wake us up to the pathology of this sad man. In the end, I see compassion more than mere provocation.

You decide for yourself. As an arthouse experience in the glut of the politically correct Oscar season, it’s the most audacious movie out there.

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Ang Lee's
Brokeback Mountain
Opens Friday, December 9, 2005

Starring: Heath Ledger; Jake Gyllenhaal; Linda Cardellini; Anna Faris; Anne Hathaway; Michelle Williams; and Randy Quaid.

Reviewed by Frank J. Avella

Brokeback Mountain is an audacious piece of cinema--an atypical love story that soars above most of the films of 2005. The lead characters happen to be male. The men happen to be cowboys. The cowboys happen to fall in love...with each other! The time period, which feels like a century ago, is actually the early 1960’s into the early 1980’s. And the place is Wyoming (and Texas) where not much has changed in a century in terms of social acceptance or intellectual development, which is probably why it feels like such a period piece. (I completely own up to AND am proud of the Blue state bias obvious in the last sentence.)

Beautifully scripted by Larry McMurtry (Lonesome Dove) and Diana Ossana, based on a short story by Annie Proulx, the spare plot involves the meeting of two ranch hands, who are hired to tend sheep on Brokeback Mountain. The brooding, laconic Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and the animated, aptly named Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) soon find themselves with ample amounts of alone-time. An intense sexual attraction begins to develop - one that neither truly comprehend. That infatuation soon metamorphoses into deep love, which they understand even less.

Once Ennis and Jack leave their beloved mountain, they are forced into respective fake “real-life” existences. Both marry and have children, but four years later they meet up again and begin an infrequent, but intense affair.

Heath Ledger is a revelation as Ennis. Nothing this actor has done in the past (even his powerful, if too brief, turn in Monster’s Ball) indicated he was capable of such a rich, nuanced, heartbreaking performance. Ledger crawls deep under the skin of this seemingly simple rancher and tears open the painful yearning he can’t understand or control. Ledger’s acting is so raw and honest it flabbergasts the viewer. This is the acting performance of the year, one the Academy cannot overlook.

Because Ledger is so extraordinary, it would be easy to underestimate the power of Jake Gyllenhaal’s work. Although the film doesn’t seem to devote the same time and tenderness to Jack Twist’s world as it does to Ennis’, Gyllenhaal is fearless in his approach and nails the hurt, desire and defiance of someone who doesn’t fit in the time and place he was born into...and doesn’t quite understand why--nor does he know how he’s supposed to behave.

The film more than hints that Jack falls victim to his untimate insistance on being himself sexually, but the true victim is Ennis since he never fully embrace his desires.

The wonderful supporting cast is led by an indelible Michelle WIlliams as Ennis’ distraught wife. Anne Hathaway impresses in a part that is too underwritten. Anna Faris and Linda Cardellini leave their respective marks in smaller roles. And Roberta Maxwell manages to be penetrating and heart-wrenching in an brief but potent scene.

Ang Lee’s direction is deft and uncompromising. He has proven before in gems such as Sense and Sensibility, The Ice Storm and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, that he can take on practically any subject matter and capture it’s true essence. This may be his best work.

Gustavo Santaolalla’s score is gorgeous and perfectly suits the film.

The picture is stunningly photographed by Rodrigo Prieto. From its sweeping mountain vistas to Ennis’ simple farmhouse, Prieto allows the audience to feel as if they are actually there with the characters, not just onlookers.

We also get the sense of heartland inertia necessary to believe that such backward views could exist in the turbulent and sexually-liberating milieu of the sixties and seventies. The irony being that if Matthew Shepard’s death taught us anything it’s that these dangerous and repressive mores exist and, actually, thrive today.

Brokeback Mountain represents quite a historic leap for a film dealing with homosexuality. And although the film shouldn’t be labeled a “gay film,” it is quite a landmark film in it’s unabashed sincerity with it’s portrayal of ‘the love that dare not speak it’s name!’

Not since the soapy debacle Making Love in 1982 has a mainstream film dealt so openly with love between two men. That film was far too careful and contrite with cardboard characters and whiny protagonists, directed and scripted in a pathetically self-important Hollywood-ized style. Philadelphia’s lovers were never allowed to actually show any real love towards one another. Even many a gay-themed indie are sanitized, politically-correct concoctions carefully made so as not to offend anyone or twinkie flesh-laced sex comedies that have as as much depth as Paris Hilton has.

The remarkable achievement of Brokeback Mountain is that it is daring because it allows its characters to be real and behave in a painfully honest manner. For that and for making a brilliant and groundbreaking film, Focus Features and the entire Brokeback team should be congratulated, showered with accolades and, most importantly, the film itself should been seen and appreciated.

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Daniel Syrkin
Out of Sight
United States Premiere
Israeli Film Festival
February 23, 2006

Cast: Tali Sharon, Israel Poliakov, Avigail Harari, Hadas Yaron, Sandra Sade, Asi Dayan, Klil Horesh, Parhi Dekel, Michael Aloni, Eitan Glass, Asi Dayan, Klil Horesh, Parhi Dekel, Michael Aloni, Eitan Glass, Guy Loel, Yossi Alfi, Alon Pdut, Irit Shilo

Reviewed by Wendy R. Williams

Out of Sight is the story of two Israeli cousins, one blind and one not – one who can’t see and one who sees too much. The blind Ya’ara spent much of her childhood in the home of her cousin and best friend Talia. Ya’ara is in the United States, working on her doctorate at Princeton, when she hears that Talia has committed suicide. Ya’ara returns home to a dark and depressive place; her family is in mourning.

Ya’ara is devastated by the loss of Talia, who we see in colorful flash-backs as a beautiful, vibrant young girl. Talia had been more than her cousin and best friend; she was Ya’ara's eyes, interpreting the world for her. But there was another side to Talia and to Talia’s family that Ya’ara now forces herself to see. She reexamines her memories of her childhood, hunting for clues as to why Talia would choose to leave the world she had so seemingly loved.

Out of Sight is superbly acted and directed. The two actresses who play the young cousins, Avigayil Harari and Hadas Yaron, are charming, talented and gorgeous. Tali Sharon gives a heart-wrenching performance as the adult Ya’ara. And Sandra Sade gives a beautifully nuanced performance as Talia’s bereaved mother.

According to press notes, the film was made in twenty days and was Daniel Syrkin’s first film. There are signs of a new filmmaker (or small budget) in the film; cell phones ring in the background and sometimes you can hear a clock ticking that is not part of the plot. But despite the apparent lack of funds to hire some guy to yell, "Quiet on the set or I'll knock you to Haifa," Syrkin has made an amazing film and would deserves heaps of praise even if he were a film veteran. The script (by Noa Greenberg) is very well written; it will touch many hearts.

Out of Sight is in Hebrew with English subtitles. It was directed by Daniel Syrkin and written by Noa Greenberg. The producers were Mirit Toovi, Yoram Mandel and Ayelet Imberman. The editor was Boaz Lion; the director of photography was Giora Bejach. Production design was by Yoav Dahari and original music was by Rafi Kadishson.

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Stephen Woolley’s
Stoned
Opens Friday March 24, 2006

Sex, Drugs and the Bottom of the Pool

Starring: Will Adamsdale; Ras Barker; Paddy Considine; Nathalie Cox; Luke de Woolfson: Leo Gregory: Will Hodgkinson: Eleanor James: Monet Mazur; David Morrissey; Tuva Novotny; and David Walliams.

Reviewed by Wendy R. Williams

Stephen Wolley (the producer of films like Breakfast on Pluto, The End of the Affair, Michael Collins) has his directorial debut with Stoned, a poem about the Sixties. It is both a celebration of the wildness of the era and a cautionary tale about the dangers of decadence, too much too soon and you can’t always get what you want, etc. etc.

If you were not yet born in the Sixties, you might not be aware that that the Sixties only happened in the decade from 1960-1969 for a privileged few. The great masses of people did not begin to experience their personal Sixties revolution until the decade was almost over.

And Brian Jones was one of those privileged few. Brian started the band known as the Rolling Stones, only to flame out young, drowning in a sea of drugs and sex. Young, rich, beautiful and talented, he flaunted a life of sex, drugs and rock-and-roll in a London that was still recovering from the toils of fighting World War II and had yet to hear of “flower power.”

Woolley’s film is not a story about the Rolling Stones; he focuses on Brian alone. The story is set in last few weeks for Brian’s life, a time when he was about to be ousted from the Stones (they could not tour with him because of his drug convictions). Brian has retreated to the country, where he is living in Cotchford Farm, a home once owned by A.A. Milne, the author of Winnie the Pooh. Brian is living with a new girlfriend, Anna Wohlin (played by Tuva Novotny), and he has hired a builder, Frank Thorogood (played by Paddy Considine) to renovate the house. And it is this relationship between the hedonistic Brian and the working class Frank that set up the conflict that ends in the deep end of the pool.

Woolley uses film and film techniques from the Sixties to give his film a documentary feel. Using flash backs, he tells the story of Brian’s life: the founding of the Stones; Brian’s relationship with Anita Pallenberg; his love of American black music; his trips to Morocco. Anita Pallenberg (played by Monet Mazur) has sometimes been cast as the villain in Brian’s life; he loved her and she left him for Keith Richards (Ben Whishaw). Well, if you have heard these rumors, after seeing this movie you will have a thorough understanding of what is must have been like to be a drunken Brian’s punching bag.

Woolley also tells a bit about the smoothly oiled machine that is now known as The Stones. Their manager, Tom (played by David Morrissey) sleazes through the film, supplying both workmen and girls and cleaning up the messes afterwards. One particularly compelling moment is when the Stones come to Cotchford Farm to tell Brian that he is out. It is a hoot to watch Mick Jagger (played by Luke de Woolfson) levitate into the room like the god he has just become.

But on the night that Brian died, the firing was in the past and there were only four people in the house: Brian; Frank (the builder); Anna (the girlfriend); and Janet (played by Amelia Warner), a nurse that Tom (the manager) had hired to keep an eye on things at Brian’s after he (Tom) discarded her as his personal bed toy. We see Brian playing sadistic mind games with Frank, flaunting his sexuality and questioning Frank's. And there is sex, drugs, drinking and a midnight dip in the pool that ends with Brian’s body slowing sinking to the bottom.

And if you have been reading this review wondering if there is nudity, the answer is yes. There is lots of equal opportunity full-frontal nudity. And if you have been wondering about the music, the answer is no; there is no Stones music. Woolley wanted to tell the story of Brian (who never had a Stones hit credited to him) so he used the music that inspired Brian and the music of the times. He was also probably not able to get the rights to the Stones's music. But there is a great sound track, featuring songs like Jefferson Airplanes’ “White Rabbit,” and "Stop Breakin’ Down Blues” by Robert Johnson (one of Brian’s musical inspirations). The album also features Boy Dylan's "Ballad of a Thin Man" (covered by Kula Shaker), a song that is widely suspected to be about Brian Jones with lyrics such as:

"Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?"

Woolley gets good performances from his actors, especially with Paddy Considine’s portrayal of Frank Thorogood. Leo Gregory does a good job with the character of Brian, with perhaps just a little too much attention to the blankness of being stoned all the time. The two actresses who play Brian’s love interests, Monet Mazur (as Anita Pallenberg) and Tuva Novotny (as Anna Wohlin) do a good job of portraying one of the main rewards of being a rock star – the gorgeous girls who walk into the room saying, “I’m with the band.” Bravo to Stephen Woolley on his directorial debut.