J.B. Spins

Jazz, film, and improvised culture.

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Curvature: Time Travel on a Budget and a 36-Hour Time Limit

In the TV show 7 Days, that was the limit to how far they could travel back in time. Sam Beckett was limited to the span of his own lifetime in Quantum Leap. However, the time travel system developed by Helen Phillips’ fellow scientist husband only goes back 36 hours. That means she cannot go back and prevent his murder, but maybe she can stop herself from becoming a murderer herself in Diego Hallivis’s Curvature (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Phillips has been a basket case since the suicide of her husband Wells, but she suddenly snaps out of her funk when she gets a mystery call warning her to get out of the house. It is sort of like the opening scene to The Matrix, but the voice sounds weirdly like her rather than Laurence Fishburne.

When she connects with her platonic work pal, Alex, Phillips learns she has lost a week of time. Soon thereafter, she comes to suspect the time machine Wells developed with his partner at Curvature Corp. really works—and the mysterious blue hoodie woman is actually herself, gone back thirty-six hours. When she discovers the truth about Wells’ murder, which we can guess the second our prime suspect enters the frame, she realizes why she went back. Can she stop herself from going to a very dark place, when she happens to be herself?

Curvature is an okay time travel film, but it is way too predictable. Honestly, one of the innumerable drawbacks to filmmakers’ biases against businessmen and venture capitalists is that it makes it stupidly simple to deduce the real villain’s identity. Curvature is a clear-cut example of that phenomenon.

On the plus, side the time travel stuff is pretty decent. Wisely, Hallivis does not try to do too much with respect to near-misses and crossed paths for Phillips and Phillips-prime. Instead, he focuses on Phillips’ intellectual and emotional challenges. A bit where she and good old Alex use their shared history to figure out a password is especially well-written, by Brian DeLeeuw. Lyndsy Fonseca and Zach Avery also turn it quite nicely, even they are often a bit stiff together. Sadly, the great Linda Hamilton had to be released early, so we only get a few tantalizing scenes of her playing Phillips’ mentor. However, it is fun to see been-in-everything character actor Glenn Moorshower turn up again as Wells’ partner, Tomas.

Curvature has its merits, but it is also saddled by its budget constraints and blind spots. It is the sort of independent science fiction we want to champion, but this is definitely a case where the sum of its parts is greater than its whole. Just kind of okay, Curvature opens this Friday (2/23) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

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Mehrdad Oskouei at Anthology: The Other Side of the Burka


The tight-knit Islamist villages dotted along Iran’s southern coast look extreme even to many Revolutionary true believers throughout the rest of the country. Down there, the chador is not sufficient. Women must wear Burkas. At least it is the Gulf-style metallic mustache-guard burka rather than the completely encasing version preferred in Afghanistan, but if you think it is so comfortable than why don’t you start wearing one? The women who live there are desperate, miserable, and bereft of hope, judging from the interviews Mehrdad Oskouei conducts in The Other Side of the Burka, which screens as part of Documentary, Iranian Style, a new retrospective of the documentarian’s work starting this Friday at Anthology Film Archives.

The catalyst for Burka was the suicide of a long-suffering wife and mother named Samireh. Ironically, she seemed to be in better spirits than many other women, but there is no secret why she did what she did. The words of her widower husband speak volumes: “As the saying goes, women are like footwear, if you lose one, you can easily obtain another. But, what am I to do with my children?” Well, maybe he could consider stepping up and taking responsibility, but we’re just spit-balling here.

In any event, that pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? Oskouei quickly establishes what social conditions are like. Women are married off early in this region—thirteen-year-old brides are not uncommon in the community. They are forced to have many children, but their husbands often have difficulty supporting their families. On the flip side, when times are good, the men often take younger second wives.

Oskouei records one harrowing story after another chronicling physical abuse, mental cruelty, and perverse attempts to induce abortions. The filmmaker tries to show the men some compassion too, explaining how over-fishing forced many fishermen to resort to smuggling, running a very real risk of arrest and imprisonment to feed their families. Yet, it is as obvious as the burka on your face they would be much better off if they married women who were somewhat older and allowed them to complete their education and pursue employment outside the home.

Again, it is striking how completely these women trust Oskouei. They have difficult stories to tell, especially to an Iranian man, yet they give him shockingly intimate testimony, on-camera. They are brave to reveal so much, but he was also pretty gutsy to expose the systematic injustices they continually endure. It clocks in at an economical fifty-two minutes, but it says plenty in that time. Very highly recommended, The Other Side of the Burka (paired with Oskouei’s documentary short, My Mother’s Home, Lagoon) screens this Friday (2/23) and next Monday (2/26) during the Mehrdad Oskouei retrospective at Anthology Film Archives.

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Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Mikhalkov’s Sunstroke


Ivan Bunin was the first Russian to win the Nobel Prize for literature, but that did not exactly thrill the Soviets, since he was living in Paris at the time as a “White émigré.” Among the White or Menshevik-affiliated exiles, Bunin was a rock star, but it was a small group. Nikita Mikhalkov reminds us why so few dissidents escaped the 1920s Red Terror in his fusion of Bunin’s nonfiction Cursed Days and the titular short story. Mikhalkov remains a problematic figure, but there is no question Sunstroke is one of his best films in years, which finally releases today on DVD.

It is 1920. A large contingent of surrendered White officers are being processed for their promised return to Russian society. In exchange for relinquishing their arms and accepting the Soviet state they have even been promised the opportunity to immigrate. It is all very depressing for an honorable officer like the unnamed lieutenant, but his heart was already broken a lifetime ago in 1907. As he endures the boredom and petty indignities of the makeshift POW camp, his mind drifts back to his brief, intoxicating affair with a mystery woman while they were both traveling on a Volga steamship.

Sadly, it would only last one mad night, but the memory still lingers. Even the day after, largely spent in the company of Egoriy, a plucky street urchin takes becomes bittersweet in retrospect. Indeed, the 1907 narrative is classic Bunin, somewhat reminiscent of Chekhov’s “The Lady with the Dog.” In contrast, the 1920 storyline is all Soviet, through and through. It also happens to be the more powerful strand. Although Mikhalkov eventually brings the twains together in a way that genuinely pays off, the 1907 narrative really could have been handled as one or two long flashbacks. In contrast, it is quite haunting to watch the loved-and-lost romantic lieutenant facing the utter end of his era, with dignity and sad resignation. (At least his comrade still has his loyal hunting dog Syabr).

Everyone should generally know how 1920 ended for Russia, but Mikhalkov still manages to surprise us. He is a talented filmmaker, but there is no question he is tainted by his friendship with Putin and his own unprecedented consolidation of power within the Russian film industry. We give him credit for calling for the release of Oleg Sentsov, which he really didn’t have to do, but by defending Russian aggression and imperialism in Ukraine, he has become what he condemns in the third act of Sunstroke and throughout the Burnt By the Sun trilogy.

Regardless, Mikhalkov’s stitching together of Bunin is truly epic in a tragically lyrical way that totally falls within his cinematic wheelhouse. He can balance the dark romanticism of his Dark Eyes with a historical indictment in the tradition of Wajda’s Katyn. Frankly, this film deserves more attention, but it is Mikhalkov’s own darned fault it has not enjoyed the festival love bestowed on his earlier films.

In addition to his bravura filmmaking techniques, Mikhalkov gets the benefit of some fine ensemble work. Milos Bikovic is terrific as Syabr’s owner, the aristocratic naval officer, Baron Nikolay Alexandrovich Gulbe-Levitsky, Vitaliy Kishchenko is wildly but believable unhinged as the defiant cavalry captain, and Kiril Boltaev is wryly sardonic as the Cossack Captain. However, nobody can withstand the furious power of Miriam Sekhorn as Rozaliia Zemliachka, a Communist revolutionary figure and architect of Soviet mass murder. She is just a chilling, show-stopping tour de force. Ironically, Martinsh Kalita and the Ukrainian-born Viktoriya Solovyova aren’t nearly as engaging as the star-crossed lovers.

Mikhalkov is still going big, which pays dividends in this case. This is a mixed bag film (that appears to have been judiciously trimmed for its US home release, with no obvious ill effects), but when it connects, it lands a haymaker. It takes a little work (and requires overlooking Mikhalkov’s politics), but it is worth it. Recommended for fans of Russian cinema and literature, Sunstroke releases today on DVD, from Distrib Films US/Icarus.

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Still/Born: Mother, Child, and Demon

It’s not the dingoes. It’s a hag demon that is out to steal Mary’s baby. That’s assuming it really isn’t postpartum depression, like everyone around her so unhelpfully assumes. Whatever the case might be, infant Adam is definitely in jeopardy throughout Brandon Christensen’s Still/Born (trailer here), which releases today on DVD.

Little Adam is already a survivor, considering his twin brother died during child birth. Mary and Jack are feeling some dramatically mixed emotions, but they try to focus on what they have. Soon after returning home, Mary starts seeing flashes out of the corner of her eye. She tries to explain them away, but the incidents quickly escalate. Before long, she is desperately trying to thwart the entity’s murderous schemes. Of course, all she gets from her doctor are anti-depressants. To be fair, Jack is reasonably supportive for a reasonable period of time, ill-timed business trips notwithstanding, but the demon has a knack for framing up Mary good.

Miscarriages and stillbirths are awfully painful for couples that suffer them, so exploiting them for a horror movie is a dicey proposition but hey, we don’t use the term “exploitation” for nothing. To their credit, Christensen and co-screenwriter Colin Minihan address such subjects with as much sensitivity as can be mustered in a fright flick. Unfortunately, the actual demonic and/or psychological horror is pretty standard stuff, albeit executed with a little stylish flair. There simply is never a moment in Still/Born that truly surprises us.

It is a shame, because the conventional narrative squanders a fierce and bravely vulnerable performance from Christie Burke as Mary. We truly believe her terror is real, regardless of its true nature. Alas, the film also wastes the great Michael Ironside in a largely inconsequential near-cameo as close-talking Dr. Nielsen. He doesn’t even get to yell at anyone. However, Rebecca Olson makes a strong impression as Mary’s desperate housewife neighbor, Rachel.

While we’re on the subject, why do Rachel and her husband have so many decorative skulls in their home and backyard? Wow, if that’s a thing, it’s sure been a while since we lived in the burbs. In fact, this is a perfect horror film for suburban consumption. It definitely taps into primal parental fears, but it follows a very well-established pattern. Still/Born is not terrible, but it is not good enough to recommend to discriminating horror viewers when it releases today on DVD.

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Monday, February 19, 2018

The Lodgers: Gothic Ireland

Loftus Hall has a bad track record when it comes to hosting company. According to legend, it is haunted by the ghost of a girl who went mad there when she discovered the handsome young houseguest who caught her eye was really Satan himself—but that will have to keep for a different movie. This film shot on location in the County Wexford manse is all about the supernatural entities below that control the lives of the teenage residents. Twins Rachel and Edward (we dare not speak their family name) are caught in a tragic cycle, paying for the depravities of their sinful ancestors in Brian O’Malley’s The Lodgers (trailer here), which opens this Friday in select cities.

Rachel and Edward’s parents committed suicide. Apparently, it runs in the family. Unfortunately, they are not alone. A malevolent force comes out after midnight to claim nocturnal dominion over the spooky mansion. The twins must abide by their three rules: be tucked into bed by midnight, never allow a stranger to cross the threshold, and never be gone for long. Obviously, this is bad for their social development, but Rachel still manages to start a haltingly flirtatious relationship with Sean, a decent lad who recently returned from WWI with a relatively mild case of PTSD.

Rachel meets Sean just as she starts to question whether she should obediently accept her fate, like her badly stunted brother. To further destabilize matters, the sleazy family solicitor Mr. Bermingham starts coming around, pestering Rachel to allow him to sell the property, in order to get them out from under their mounting debts. Plus, Dessie, the local bully constantly targets Rachel, because she is vulnerable and Sean, because he fought with the British.

The Lodgers is a deliciously atmospheric gothic yarn in the tradition of J. Sheridan Le Fanu, with some luridness cribbed from V.C. Andrews thrown in for extra salaciousness. Loftus Hall is definitely a sinister setting—it is hard to imagine anyone ever living there comfortably. Location is half the battle in a film like this, but Charlotte Vega is terrific as Rachel. There is also something surprisingly poignant about the tentative romance percolating between her and Eugene Simon’s Sean, as two underdog outsiders. Bill Milner is suitably creepy and clammy as the soul-ravaged Edward, while David Bradley looks like he might have ambled in from a Hammer Horror movie as dissipated old Bermingham.

Written by David Turpin, a composer and literature professor, The Lodgers is clearly engaging with the gothic tradition. However, it also challenges traditional Irish prejudices, with respect to landowners and the British. (Many will find the hostility unleashed against Sean rather shocking, but remember, Ireland maintained formal neutrality during WWII as well.) Like the best of gothic chillers, it is more about the sustained mood of foreboding (which O’Malley maintains quite surehandedly) than jump scares or gross-out moments. Recommended for fans of the genre, The Lodgers opens this Friday (2/23) in New York, at the Village East.

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7 Guardians of the Tomb: Li Bingbing, Tomb Raider


China has a love-hate relationship with tomb spelunkers. The government rails against western looters and demands the restitution of national antiquities. On the other hand, some of China’s bestselling novel, film, and television franchises feature Lara Croft-Indiana Jones-style characters, including the Ghost Blows Out the Light and Daomu Biji books that have spawned competing film and television adaptations. At least this Chinese-Australian co-production develops its own “original” mythology. It is all very ridiculous, but it is still good clean fun to head into the ancient lair with producer Li Bingbing in Kimble Rendall’s 7 Guardians of the Tomb (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

As an expert in poisonous venoms, Dr. Jia Lee could be quite useful on this outing, but she also has a personal stake. It is her adventurer brother Luke who is missing. He had been searching for a fabled emperor’s tomb that supposedly holds his alchemist’s secret rejuvenating elixir or some such thing. Apparently, his potion worked, he just got tired of his boss, or so we can glean from confusing costumed flashbacks.

Regardless, the expedition funded by cosmetics-pharma tycoon Mason Kitteridge, an old family friend of the Lees and Luke’s boss, is about to get chased underground by a Biblically-sized sandstorm. The good new is Luke’s GPS is still faintly transmitting. The bad news is millions of highly organized killer spiders stand between Dr. Jia’s ragtag group and her brother.

Guardians (the whole “7” business is obviously just a ploy to get it listed highly in VOD menus) aims to please during its economical eighty-three minute running time, offering up plenty of booby traps, ancient clues, and creepy-crawly arachnids. Li is a highly credible action lead—arguably more so than Kellan Lutz acting petulant as the boorish search-and-rescue expert, Jack Ridley. Stef Dawson, Jason Chong, and Shane Jacobson add some color and seasoning as the expedition’s communications specialist, archeologist, and blokey comic relief, respectively. However, the real MVP is Kelsey Grammer, who definitely came to play, which means he chews the scenery with a vengeance as arrogant old Kitteridge.

The tomb trappings are decent and the spider effects are good enough to freak out an arachnophobe. The backstory really makes no sense whatsoever and the rest of the story isn’t exactly rigorously logical either. It’s not Raiders of the Lost Ark (neither was the last Indiana Jones movie, for that matter), but it is enjoyable to see Li take the lead and Grammer do his villainous thing. Despite his extensive sitcom work, he really has a talent for playing bad guys. As a guilty pleasure, 7 Guardians of the Tomb is a perfect hangover VOD movie, so be advised when it opens this Friday (2/23) in LA at the Laemmle Music Hall and also releases through the On Demand platform.

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Mehrdad Oskouei at Anthology: Starless Dreams

Like everything else in Iran, being a woman makes it harder to be confined to a juvenal correctional facility. However, many of the young women remanded there would prefer to stay rather than return to their families. They are the first to admit they committed the crimes they were accused of, but viewers will quickly conclude probably everyone else in their worlds ought to be behind bars, rather than them, based on the heartbreaking confessions recorded in Mehrdad Oskouei’s Starless Dreams (trailer here), which screens as part of Documentary, Iranian Style, a new retrospective of the documentarian’s work starting this Friday at Anthology Film Archives.

This is Oskouei’s third documentary shot at the Centre for Correction and Rehabilitation of Young Adults, but it was the first time he was allowed in the ultra-restricted girls’ section. They really are girls—teens and even tweeners forced to live on the streets and commit crimes to survive or pay for a fix. Getting approval for films on the boys was a dicey proposition, but Starless was a particularly daunting bureaucratic challenge. Nevertheless, it is clear the young women immediately trusted Oskouei and even forgot his presence during times of high emotions.

Several of the young residents were sentenced to the Centre for drug-related crimes. At least one is there for conspiring to kill her violent, drug-addicted father, much in the style of The Burning Bed. Several were victims of domestic violence and sexual molestation, which they fear will only get worse if they are released back into the custody of their abusive families. However, the Centre’s administration makes it clear once they exit the property, their former charges are no longer their responsibility. We do not see very much of the adult supervision in Starless, but when we do, they look really bad.

This film will just break your heart over and over again. The stories these young women have to tell are absolutely harrowing. Yet, they judge themselves just as harshly as the problematic adults they encounter. Oskouei never directly addresses politics or ideology, but it is crystal clear his subjects have been poorly served by Iran’s legal and social welfare systems, as well as the judgmental misogyny of the Islamist state religion.

It is also easy to see why the juvenile prisoners were so accepting of Oskouei. His voice is remarkably warm and soothing, while his questions always reflect the sort of humanist perspective they have rarely encountered. This is a quietly intimate film, but it is just as much a work of progressive muckraking as anything Jacob Riis ever did. Highly recommended, Starless Dreams screens this Friday (2/23) and next Monday (2/26) during the Mehrdad Oskouei retrospective at Anthology Film Archives.

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The Cured: Post-Zombie Ireland

Just what we needed, more forms of identity politics. In this case, it is your zombie status that really matters. It’s more complicated than you might think. After the outbreak of the Maze Virus, a cure was developed that returned 75% of the infected to their former human state. Alas, one quarter remain feral zombies, the so-called “Resistants.” Having lived through a zombie apocalypse, many of the uninfected still harbor suspicions of the other 75%, perhaps with some justification in David Freyne’s The Cured (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

There is already a substantial body of film that speculates on how society would adjust to a cure for zombie-ism, including the BBC America show In the Flesh and the Canadian film, The Returned. The notion that some of the uninfected still hold a grudge is an old saw by now, but Freyne still harps on it. The first wave of “Cured” integration was not exactly a smashing success. Senan and Connor are part of the second. They hunted together during their zombie days, which they still vividly remember. One of their victims was Senan’s brother, a fact he declines to share with his American sister-in-law Abigail when she agrees to take him in, but the memory still tortures him.

Senan wants to live a quiet life and be a good uncle to his nephew, but Connor is a bad influence on him. Before the zombie outbreak, Connor was an up-and-coming politician, so he logically becomes a leading figure in the Cured-power movement. They argue they are merely a civil rights group, but there is reason to suspect they yearn to return to their days of brain-munching.

The Returned wants to lecture us on inclusion and understanding, but it is undone by its genre.
When you make a zombie movie, you need to have the zombie hoards start rampaging eventually, so you have to have a reason the fragile peace collapses. In this case, it is Connor and his Cured militants who upset the not so great equilibrium. That means they really are dangerous after all, so the hawkish skepticism was justified, rendering film’s didactic messaging null and void. Except for Senan, it sure starts to look like the only good zombie is a dead zombie.

In Maze, Tom Vaughan-Lawlor played an IRA terrorist serving time in HM Maze Prison, while in The Cured, he plays Connor, who was infected with Maze virus. It is highly debatable which character shows more remorse, if at all. Regardless, he is unsettling intense as the Cured resistance leader—arguably so powerfully so, he helps undermine Freyne’s efforts to liken the Cured to dispossessed immigrants and victims of police brutality.

To her credit, producer Ellen Page disappears into the role of mournful Abigail, but it is not like she has an overpowering movie star presence to contend with. Seriously, Juno was over ten years ago. Sam Keeley is also an effectively woeful sad sack as Senan. Yet, Paula Malcolmson has some of the best lines and the most interesting business as Dr. Joan Lyons, who is convinced she can cure the Resistant too, if she can just get six more months to perfect a serum, or maybe a full year—eighteen months, at the outside.

The Cured is so busy using zombies as a vehicle for Romero-esque commentary, it doesn’t even notice when its allegory collapses. Guess what? Zombies are dangerous, that’s what. Vaughan-Lawlor is impressive, and the Irish urban backdrop lends itself to the demilitarized dystopian near future. It just doesn’t add up to what Freyne intended. Too muddled to recommend, The Cured opens this Friday (2/23) in New York, at the IFC Center.

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Sunday, February 18, 2018

Mainland Noir: Lethal Hostage

It is maybe the most extreme case of Stockholm Syndrome ever, but it happens in Burma. Yes, even Chinese films still call it Burma, not Myanmar. No matter what you call it, the area along the Chinese border is a lawless domain and the neighboring Chinese city of Ruili is a classic border town. Crimes from the dark past will directly affect the lawless present in Cheng Er’s Lethal Hostage (trailer here), which screens as part of the Mainland Noir film series now underway at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts.

Sun Honglei plays “350,” a steely drug cartel lieutenant with ambitions of advancement. Need we go any further? Using a fractured narrative structure, Cheng kicks things off with two seemingly unrelated events that turn out to be profoundly linked. Xiao An visits her life-battered dentist father asking him to bless her marriage, but he bitterly refuses. Meanwhile, a young woman becomes suspicious of her neighbor, because something in his flat makes her dog Feng Feng bark like crazy. Poor Feng Feng will stir up a whole lot of trouble for himself and his owner, who happens to be the hot mess sister of the narcotics detective pursuing the neighbor’s boss.

Rewind ten years and we see 350 taking the dentist’s young daughter hostage after a drug deal goes spectacularly bad. It will be the start of a long string of misfortunes for the distraught father. However, Xiao An somehow brings out 350’s compassionate side. He will even stage a cartel coup to protect her. Of course, the machinations of fate will pull them all back to Ruili in the present time.

Lethal Hostage is an inadequate title to describe the gritty ruthlessness and tragic irony of Cheng’s narrative, but so be it. In many ways, it would be a fine companion film paired up with Johnnie To’s Drug War, which is high praise indeed. It all fits together nicely, but the scenes set in the sister’s apartment building are especially tense, in the tradition of Wait Until Dark.

Of course, Sun is superhumanly hardnosed as 350. Watching him stalk through Burma makes us believe he could knock birds out of the sky with a withering stare. Wang Luodan is affectingly earnest and vulnerable as his grown wife, while Gao Ye covers the spectrum, from passive aggressive party girl to an utterly terrified hostage herself. However, veteran character actor Ni Dahong really delivers the pathos as the woeful dentist.

Cheng does a lot of flashing backwards and forwards, but he always clearly establishes his place on the timeline. There are plenty of twists, but even more attitude and menace. It also obliquely recalls recent shoddy public works construction scandals, particularly the school collapses during the 2008 Sichuan earthquake, when a similar fate befalls a school 350 funded on behalf of his wife, which is pretty gutsy on Cheng’s part. Very highly recommended, Lethal Hostage screens this Thursday (2/22) and next Sunday (2/25) at the Yerba Buena Arts Center, as part of their Mainland Noir film series.

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Saturday, February 17, 2018

Scent of Rain & Lightning


Oklahoma: it’s where the wind comes sweeping down the plain and family grudges can turn deadly. Technically, the book was set in Kansas, but the movie was shot in the Sooner State. Frankly, its not like New Yorkers or Angelinos could tell the difference. The family grudge business is what they will focus on, as will Jody Linder. Ten years ago, Billy Croyle was found guilty of murdering her parents, but his sentence has just been commuted. Since the past is already disturbed, Linder starts investigating that tragic night herself in Blake Robbins’ The Scent of Rain & Lightning (trailer here), which is now playing in Los Angeles.

Croyle is mean brute with and an evil temper. He definitely had a score to settle with his former employer, ranching baron Senior Linder (Jody’s grandfather) and the necessary capacity for violence. However, some inconsistencies in the trial record have come to light, starting with his son Collin’s anti-alibi. The morally conflicted young man now admits his father never roused from his drunken stupor on the night of the murders.

As Jody Linder peels away at the onion, she sees a darker side to her parents and platoon of uncles. There was also some embezzlement going on at their Colorado ranch, which may or may not be a red herring. Nobody really wants her to uncover the truth. Plus, the feral Croyle is still out there, nursing his grudges and resentments.

As a dustbowl noir, Scent is stronger on atmosphere than suspense. However, it is a terrific vehicle for Maika Monroe, whose work is remarkably sure-footed throughout the film. Despite her genetic good fortune, as Linder, she always comes across as very down-to-earth and humanly vulnerable. Watching her is like watching your own sister or daughter struggle with some deep, dark family secret.

Monroe also gets first-rate support from a deep ensemble bench. Brad Carter is chillingly and convincingly ferocious as Billy Croyle, while Will Patton demonstrates again why he is one of the best in the business with his hard-charging but increasingly complex portrayal of Senior. However, all the uncles duly look alike (doesn’t anyone in the plains states shave anymore?), which makes them believable as kin, but dashed difficult to tell apart.

Scent is undeniably predictable, but Robbins nicely evokes the lonely vibe of tallgrass country. The genre elements are so-so, but it is worth seeing anyway as a showcase for Monroe, who still has the potential to usurp Jennifer Lawrence’s position in Hollywood, especially given JLaw’s recent string of under-performers and outright bombs. Deserving more attention than its currently getting, The Scent of Rain & Lightning is now playing at the Arena Cinelounge.

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Friday, February 16, 2018

Detective K: Secret of the Living Dead


Post-Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes has faced off against Dracula a number of times, so it is only fair Detective K[im Min] would get his own run-in with the living dead. However, he will be considerably more fortunate. Instead of a Transylvanian nobleman, he encounters a beautiful Joseon princess, who has lost her memories of her previous existence. For now, she is a gentle day-walker, but all bets are off when she remembers who did her wrong in Kim Suk-yoon’s Detective K: Secret of the Living Dead (trailer here), which opens today in Los Angeles.

Wol-young (as Kim will call her) was immolated into dormancy, but she wasn’t burned sufficiently to destroy her. As a result, a mystery fugitive manages to revive her, before sacrificing himself for her safety. Meanwhile, Kim is unmasking a Scooby-Doo-style fake vampire. His next case won’t be so easy. A ruthless full-on vampire has been turning and then immolating the grown sons of prominent villagers. Logically, Kim is dispatched to stop the macabre serial murders.

As their paths cross, Kim and Wol-young discover they are both interested in the shadowy perp, whom the lady vampire just feels she knows from someplace, but cannot recall how. An uneasy but flirtatious truce is forged as they work together tracking their quarry. As long as the freshly revived Wol-young refrains from tasting blood, she can control her vampiric nature, but she will still be denied her memories. Of course, avoiding blood will be difficult given the circumstances.

If the previous Secret of the Lost Island was a little too shticky for your taste, you might consider giving the franchise a second try with Living Dead. Kim Myung-min and Oh Dal-su still engage in plenty of rubber-faced broad comedy as Kim and his loyal but cowardly servant Seo Pil, but the vampire story is far darker and way more poignant than Lost Island viewers would expect. As emotionally engaging vampire movies go, it falls somewhere between Byzantium and Let the Right One In, but still with a goofy sense of humor, somewhat akin to Vampire Cleanup Department.

Without question, Kim Ji-won is a major reason why it works so well. As Wol-young, she is eloquently expressive and achingly vulnerable. There is no question she muscles poor Seo Pil off the screen, taking command of the picture. On paper, Living Dead would sound like an unlikely star-making vehicle, but she turns it.

Franchise helmer Kim Suk-yoon also deserves credit for staging some highly cinematic action scenes and running up a body count exponentially higher than the norm for historical comedy. Frankly, there might be more tragedy than comedy in Living Dead, but that plays to Korean cinema’s comparative advantage. Recommended surprisingly enthusiastically for vampire fans, Detective K: Secret of the Living Dead opens today (2/16) at the Los Angeles and Buena Park CGV Cinemas.

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IFFR ’18 on Festivalscope: YEAH


It is unfortunate few people live in Ako’s provincial housing complex, because she could use some supervision. She definitely has persistent mental health issues, but she might also be haunted by ghosts (with an outside chance of being one herself). Regardless, it is nearly impossible for her to make human connections in Yohei Suzuki’s long short or short feature YEAH, one of several recent selections from the International Film Festival Rotterdam that streams for a limited time on Festivalscope’s public-facing VOD platform.

When we first meet Ako, she is having an earnest discussion with a tailor’s mannequin and an old growth tree somewhere in the wooded outskirts surrounding the complex. Since all the cookie-cutter buildings look the same, she accidentally barges into the wrong flat—a relatively common occurrence judging from the matronly mother’s reaction. However, her teen son is much more forgiving of Ako’s eccentricities. In fact, he might be the only person who really looks out for her during the course of the film.

Ako’s family situation is a little uncertain, but she definitely has a brother who would like to commit her for a while. Eventually, she meets another young woman who is as off as she is, but it is still not a healthy relationship. She really ought to seek out the kindly lad, but she is obviously not thinking clearly.

YEAH (an oblique reference to Ako’s difficulties with American colloquialisms) manages to combine the look of vérité naturalism with an unsettling sense of the surreal. Even in the economically depressed town of Mito, Ako’s world should not be so depopulated and lonely. Yet, she careens about on her own, with only the occasional snarky teen mocking her from afar. Visually, it serves as a metaphor for the isolation and alienation resulting from her scrambled psyche.

Despite Suzuki’s challenging aesthetic approach, the film is almost entirely reliant on Elisa Yanagi’s haunted and haunting portrayal as Ako. She can be disruptive and vexing, but Yanagi vividly taps into her unspecified traumas, laying herself emotionally bare. We really want things to be better for her, which is frustrating, but also the sign of a lethally effective performance.

YEAH is the rare sort of film that is tough to watch on both stylistic terms and on a gut level. Although Suzuki does his best to keep the allegorical readings abstract, it leaves us with a nagging suspicion all is not right with the world. The awkward forty-five-minute running time also makes it difficult to categorize and program, in a betwixt and between sort of way. At least those who appreciate subtly avant-garde cinema will have their chance to take it all in while YEAH streams for public audiences on Festivalscope, through February 20th.

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Thursday, February 15, 2018

Golden Slumber: Korea Remakes Nakamura


The Beatles recorded “Golden Slumbers” without John Lennon, because he was in the hospital while they recorded that part of the Abbey Road suite-like progression. That doesn’t matter to Kim Gun-woo. To him, it will always represent his friendship with his old band-mates. Unfortunately, his nostalgia makes him easy pickings when one of his former pals helps frame him for the assassination of the leading presidential candidate. If that sounds familiar, it is because it is a loose remake of Yoshihiro Nakamura’s hit from 2010. Given the increasing suspicion and cynicism regarding governmental institutions across South Korea, this paranoid political thriller makes the cross-over quite easily. It will be death by Beatles cover in Noh Dong-seok’s Golden Slumber (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in Los Angeles and next Friday in select cities.

The aw-shucks Kim is Korea’s favorite deliveryman after he saved K-Pop idol Su-ah from an attacker. However, he still has time for his friends, so he readily agrees to meet Moo-yeol when he suddenly reappears. The idea is to frame-up Kim for a conspiracy that is never really explained, but Moo-yeol just can’t do it, so he drives off with the second car bomb instead.

Kim is still framed up good and solid, so he has no choice but to run like mad. Although confused and distrustful, Kim will look up the former black ops colleague Moo-yeol referred him to, because what choice does he really have? However, “Mr. Min” clearly does not have his best interests at heart—at least not initially. Meanwhile, Kim’s surviving band-mates, including Jeon Sun-young, the great love of his life, debate his guilt or innocence and how far they should be willing to go to help him.

With his Slumber, Noh essentially returns the favor to Japan for remaking Confession of Murder as the in some ways superior Memoirs of a Murderer. The new Korean version is definitely tighter, stripping away some of problematic subplots, while adding some identifiably Korean particulars. As a result, it is probably even more effective as a “Wrong Man” thriller. In fact, even those who know Nakamura’s original film will find the third act surprisingly devious.

Gang Dong-won agilely walks a tightrope as Kim, portraying him as painfully naïve, but still socially functional—and to some extent, even nobly idealistic. Kim Eui-sung (the jerky businessman in Train to Busan) is all kinds of hardnosed as Mr. Min. Frankly, Han Hyo-joo brings over-achieving depth to the true-believing, equally sentimental Sun-young. Regrettably, there isn’t a colorful villain to root against, but Noh largely compensates with breakneck pacing.

When Nakamura’s Slumber played in New York, we found its depiction of media compliance and obedience somewhat dubious, but seven-plus years later, it now feels like Noh lets the media off easy. Does anyone doubt the major news outlets would now predetermine what the truth of a story might be and “spike” any reports that contradicted it? What inspired incredulity now seems self-evidently believable, admittedly thanks to some wise reshaping of the narrative, courtesy of screenwriters Cho Ui-seok and Lee Hae-joon. Plus, as a bonus, there are a few pleasant covers of the nearly titular Beatles tune. Enthusiastically recommended, Golden Slumber opens tomorrow (2/16) at the Los Angeles and Buena Park CGV Cinemas and next Friday (2/23) in New York.

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Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Looking Glass: Nic Cage’s No-Tell Motel


The Motor Way Motel is just as cheap and seedy on either side of the two-way mirrors the previous manager installed. It just depends on whether you are an active participant or a voyeur. With respects to the lesbian dominatrix who often stays in room #10, Ray will have to be the latter. However, peeping can get you a troublesome eyeful in Tim Hunter’s Looking Glass (trailer here), which opens this Friday in select theaters.

For reasons that never make any sense, Ray and his wife Maggie decide buying a roadside motel will cure what ails their souls after the death of their young daughter and the near collapse of their marriage due to his infidelity and her substance abuse. Old Ben, the previous owner was eager to sell and once they completed the handover, he made himself scarce. At least business is steady, especially the more secluded room #10, which is the favorite of the dominatrix and a hooker-hiring long-haul driver.

While cleaning out the utility shed, Ray stumbles across Ben’s peeping tunnels and finds them quite interesting, especially on nights the dominatrix books #10. Needless to say, relations are still pretty strained between him and his wife. However, things get real when a recent guest turns up dead in the desert. It has happened before they are unhelpful told. “Fortunately,” Howard, the coffee-mooching sheriff’s deputy is always popping around to make things awkward.

Looking Glass isn’t much of a mystery, but it gives Nic Cage an opportunity to bulge his eyeballs out like a cartoon character. Still, by his standards, this is quite a restrained, simmering-on-the-inside kind of performance. Regardless, the moteliers’ relationship dynamics are surprisingly down-to-earth and believable, even if the basic premise—that they would try to work through their grief by buying the Bates Motel—is not.

There are absolutely no surprises in this film. Seriously, we know who the bad guy is as soon as Suspect X struts into the picture. However, it is entertaining to watch Cage chew the scenery, along with the colorful supporting cast, including Marc Blucas, Bill Bolender, and Ernie Lively, as the deputy, the former owner, and the trucker, respectively.

In many ways, Looking Glass is a throwback to those 1980s cable-ready erotic thrillers that often had the words “bedroom” and “eyes” in the title. That makes it super-fitting to have Nic Cage peering beady-eyed through the mirror. Hunter certainly keeps it chugging along briskly. Since the 1990s, he has mostly directed for television (including the TV movie The Lies of the Twins, based on the same pseudonymous Joyce Carol Oates novel as Double Lover), but his first film was the rapturously received S.E. Hinton adaptation, Tex. He has had an interesting career. The gleefully lurid Looking Glass makes it even more so. It is not really recommended, but if you want to see it, we wouldn’t dissuade you, because it’s exactly what you’re expecting. It opens this Friday (2/16) in limited markets and also releases on iTunes.

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The Monkey King 3: Still Journeying West


Okay, so they are on a bit of a detour. Somehow, on their pilgrimage to the West, Xuanzang and his demigod disciples (Sun “Monkey King” Wukong, Zhu “Pigsy” Bajie, and Sha “Sandy” Wujing) found themselves whisked into a kingdom of Amazon warriors, where men are strictly prohibited on pain of death. Maybe there is a bit of a Wonder Woman influence there, but Wukong is still the one with all the cool superpowers. He is a veritable Superman, but he cannot save his master from the dangers of love in Cheang Pou-soi’s The Monkey King 3 (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Who would’ve thought blow-dried Cantopop star turned actor Aaron Kwok would become the definitive Monkey King, but there is no doubt he has made the iconic character his own. As a result, it is a tad bit frustrating he plays a supporting role in the third film in the series that bears his name. Wukong can handle just about anything flesh and blood, but even he flounders against the aquatic River God monster, so Buddha and the Goddess of Mercy send the band of pilgrims through a wormhole into Womanland.

When Xuanzang locks eyes on “The Queen,” mounted on her enchanted stag, it is love at first sight. However, rules are rules, so the Preceptor insists on executing the fab four, just like any other mangy dog excuse for a man. However, the Queen is intrigued and reluctant to comply, which leads to complications. The simian demigod keeps his eyes on the prize: those scriptures waiting to be rediscovered in India, but his master learns to appreciate love from a whole new perspective. Just in case you were worried, there is also some unfinished business with the kaiju-like River God from before.

The previous Monkey King was a fantastical wuxia delight because of Gong Li’s wonderfully seductive and sinister élan as White Bone Spirit. Nobody can touch the hem of her scaly serpentine garments this time around, but Gigi Leung distinguishes the film in a different way. As the Preceptor, she starts out as Cruella de Vil, but she evolves into a tragically romantic figure of noble sacrifice.

Once again, Kwok looks like he is having a blast with his monkey mannerisms—and his enthusiasm is contagious. He might not be as true to nature, but in terms of energy and conviction, he is up there with Terry Notary in The Square. As Xuanzang, William Feng is supposed to be sort of placidly dopey in a Zenned out kind of way, which he duly is. However, Zanilia Zhao quite endearing and even rathe poignant as the star-crossed Queen.

Compared to the previous bang-zoom film, Monkey King 3 is a little light on the action until the third act. However, it is still entertaining to watch Kwok do his monkey thing. Also, Cheang and screenwriter Wen Ning do some interesting fantastical world building. As crazy as it gets, it still takes its Buddhism seriously, which is refreshing. Weirdly, it might just be the most Valentines-appropriate film of the week. Recommended for Monkey King/Journey to the West fans, The Monkey King 3 opens this Friday (2/16) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

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Tuesday, February 13, 2018

The Housemaid (The Vietnamese Gothic Ghost Movie)

It all starts like a Vietnamese Rebecca or Jane Eyre, but the master’s late first wife is not about to let any floozy marry her husband. He also happens to be a Frenchman from a socially prominent family, in 1953 French Indochina. The naive servant girl and the frog officer are quite an unlikely couple, but their passion will not be denied, at least not by scandalized mortals in Derek Nguyen’s deliciously gothic The Housemaid (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Having been orphaned and left homeless by the war (the French one), Linh travels hundreds of miles from her village to apply for the only opening she has heard of: the housemaid at the Sa Cat rubber plantation estate. However, there is a reason the position has been vacant so long, which she learns only after accepting housekeeper Ba Han’s probationary offer. Rumor has it, Sa Cat is haunted the ghosts of the hundreds of workers killed by the plantation’s brutal overseers. Even more ominously, the black clad ghost of Captain Sebastien Laurent’s widow also stalks the grounds—and she is a jealous ghost.

Much to the dismay of Mrs. Han, a powerful mutual-attraction develops between Linh and Laurent while she nurses him following an unsuccessful assassination attempt. However, it is safe to say from the supernaturally-charged in media res prologue, their romance will not end well. Eventually, we will learn what happened that fateful night, but Nguyen first rewinds to the beginning, as part of the investigating officers’ interrogation.

It is a shame the Vietnamese state film authorities hold perverse biases against supernatural horror, much like their Mainland Chinese counterparts, because they sure seem to have a knack for it, at least judging from The Housemaid. The nation also has a taste for the genre, given its standing as Vietnam’s third highest grossing film of all time, having somehow slipped past the censors. Some of the twists and turns are not spectacularly original, but the atmosphere and settings are to die for. This is one ominous looking manor house and the surrounding rubber trees are as spooky as any of the forest locales in Twin Peaks (then or now).

Kate Nhung is terrific as Linh, perfectly modulating her naivete, earthiness, and yes, sensuality. Jean-Michel Richaud is a bit stiff as Laurent (in all fairness, he spends at least half the film lying prone in bed), but he still develops some believable chemistry with Nhung. Kim Xuan would do Mrs. Danvers proud as the severely scoldy Mrs. Han, while Phi Phung turns some nice moments as the shrewder-than-she-looks cook, Mrs. Ngo.

Who knew one of the most enjoyable gothic yarns to come along in years would hail from Vietnam? Nguyen masterfully controls the foreboding vibe and his cast broods and swoons like Hammer Horror veterans. It is mostly eerie rather than gory, which makes it all jolly fun, in a throwback kind of way. Highly recommended for fans of old school gothic horror, The Housemaid opens this Friday (2/16) in New York, at the IFC Center.

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IFFR ’18 on Festivalscope: August at Akiko’s

Sadly, many of Hawaii’s best-known jazz musicians have passed away, including Lyle Ritz, Bill Tapia, and Betty Loo Taylor, but they were all probably too swing-based for an experimental improvisor like Alex Zhang Hungtai to mesh well with anyway. Regardless, he finds himself alienated and at loose ends when he returns to his family’s former Hawaiian homeland. However, a Buddhist bed & breakfast might be just the thing to center him in Christopher Makoto Yogi’s’ August at Akiko’s, one of several recent selections from the International Film Festival Rotterdam that streams for a limited time on Festivalscope’s public-facing VOD platform.

Indeed, Zhang (playing a meta analog of himself) learns you cannot go home again, in just about the saddest way possible. However, fate and his mother’s vague recommendation takes him to Masuda Akiko’s Buddhist B&B/hostel/retreat. It turns out the meditation and communion with nature she offers is what his soul needs. He even starts volunteering for community service projects, but he still has some unfinished spiritual business to tend to.

Although Zhang plays half a dozen instruments in half a dozen styles, both under his real name and the monikers “Dirty Beaches” and “Last Lizard,” throughout August he performs on tenor sax in a free improvisational style influenced by Ornette Coleman. Frankly, it is nice to see free jazz get some sympathetic screen time, but it is particularly apt, because Yogi’s patient but sure-handed approach is a lot like the best of avant-garde jazz. At times it feels diffuse and hazy, but it all comes together at the end (which features an arresting performance by Zhang).

Zhang is quiet and moody as his second self, but it is still an effectively sensitive and lowkey performance. In contrast, Masuda is wonderfully charming and all kinds of dynamic (albeit in a mostly quiet way) as herself, more or less. Together, they share an unforced rapport that is pleasant to experience second hand.

Cinematographer Cho Eunsoo fully embraces the picturesque Big Island landscape, but in a deeper way than mere picture postcard visuals. If you stick with it, Zhang’s music is plaintive and devastatingly powerful. Plus, we also get to see the Hilo Taishsoji Taeko Troop in performance, which is a cool bonus.

With August, Yogi rather remarkably proves that a film with a somewhat free-ish ethos can still inspire a warm emotional attachment. Very highly recommended for Zhang’s fans and sophisticated audiences, August at Akiko’s is available for general VOD streaming on the public Festivalscope, until February 20th.

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Hellraiser: Judgement


He is an icon of horror, but “Pinhead” wasn’t even known as Pinhead in the original Hellraiser movie (it was an off-camera nickname the crew gave him, for obvious reasons). Known as “Hell Priest” and “Cold Man” in Clive Barker’s fiction, Pinhead and his fellow sadomasochistic Cenobites have undergone a bit of an identity crisis when Barker cut all formal ties with the film franchise, but at least he was still portrayed by the original actor, Doug Bradley, through the first eight movies. This is the tenth. Fans may question its canonical cred, but Pinhead still dishes out the pain and accessorizes like nobody’s business in Gary J. Tunnicliffe’s Hellraiser: Judgement (trailer here), which releases today on DVD.

Even if you know nothing about the franchise, it is obvious the sexual predator who was lured into to Cenobites’ realm is in a world of hurt. It turns out, Carl Watkins is, or rather was a tangential figure of interest in the “Preceptor” serial killer investigation. The Ten Commandments are his thing, but he is already on his fourteenth victim, so he must not mind repeating himself.  Detective brothers Sean and David Carter were nowhere near cracking the case, so Det. Christine Egerton was assigned to assist. She is also supposed to keep an eye on Sean, the older one, because he has started showing signs of stress—and that was before he followed Watkins’ trail directly into the Cenobites’ lair.

The good thing about direct-to-video sequels is nobody ever bothers sending them to focus groups. Boy, is that ever evident in the case of Judgement. Frankly, it seems like Tunnicliffe deliberately devotes the last twenty minutes to developing new and different ways to alienate and infuriate his audience. It gets to the point where it is downright impressive to watch him pile unsatisfying character revelations on top of questionable (a potentially offensive) theology, while undercutting series mythology, left and right. If he had just let it stand when the credits started to roll, it all would have been perversely amusing, but he invalidates the final twist with a truly pointless stinger. Face meet palm.

Judgement looks like it was produced with leftover sets and props from Naked Lunch and the Cenobite business feels problematically small in scale this time around. However, Damon Carney, Randy Wayne, and Alexandra Harris are all way better than anyone has a right to expect as the three investigating detectives. In fact, they are good enough to make us want to see team up again against another serial killer in a stand-alone film. Alas, Paul T. Taylor’s Pinhead is probably his dullest incarnation to date. In contrast, Tunnicliffe himself brings some much-needed villainous flair as the sinister and weirdly punctilious “Auditor.”

It should be noted, Heather Langenkamp, the original Nancy Thompson in the Nightmare on Elm Street movies is prominently billed, but she only appears briefly as the tough-talking landlady, who lets the cops paw through Watkins junk. Talk about a letdown. There really isn’t very much to recommend Judgement except to see how far it runs off the rails. It is a total mess, but defiantly so. However, if you’ve been waiting to see a super-model archangel tell the Cenobites “don’t make me have to come down there” like they are stoners in their parents’ basement than behold Hellraiser: Judgement when it releases today on DVD.

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Monday, February 12, 2018

Tehran Taboo: Sex and the Single Revolutionary Islamic Girl

It is like an underground Sex and the City, but consenting adults run the risk of arrest and torture at the hands of the morality police. Tehran is just as cosmopolitan and randy as any major city, but Islamist hypocrisy and misogyny has a poisonous effect on human relationships. Three middle class urban women try to negotiate the sexually charged terrain of the capital city in Ali Soozandeh’s bold animated feature, Tehran Taboo (trailer here), which opens at Film Forum on Valentine’s Day.

Pari must work as a prostitute to survive, because her incarcerated husband refuses to consent to a divorce or sign her employment applications. Ironically, Pari and scores of her colleagues walk the streets fairly openly, because the morality police prefers to crack down on couples holding hands. The Islamic Court judge will not grant her a divorce without the acquiescence of her deadbeat husband, but he offers to make her his kept woman instead.

As part of the deal, Pari and her young mute son Elias move into an upscale flat owned by the upstanding jurist. Though Pari is cagey about her own circumstances, she quickly befriends Sara, the pregnant wife of Mohsen, an entitled banker. She yearns to pursue a career of her own, but he categorically forbids it, using the pregnancy and her previous miscarriages as an excuse.

Meanwhile, electronica DJ Babak finds himself living the longest, most awkward morning after, when his hook-up from the previous night insists he fund her hymen reconstruction surgery. It seems Donya has a very large, possibly mobbed-up fiancé, who is expecting to marry a virgin.

Eventually, Pari will take a big sisterly interest in both Donya and Babak, but unfortunately, she can mostly offer moral support, rather than the financial kind. Nevertheless, Soozandeh brings his cast together in a convincingly organic manner, rather than contriving ways for their paths to cross. At various times, each woman is both a victim and a schemer, but the deck is always stacked against them.

The Iranian-born, Germany-based Soozandeh, who helped animate segments of the remarkable documentary The Green Wave, is shockingly frank, at least by Iranian standards. To put it in perspective, the film starts with Pari trying to perform a sex act often denoted by two letters on a flaccid cabbie, with the silently jaded Elias sitting in the back seat. Yet, through the use a child’s still somewhat innocent perspective, Soozandeh consciously embraces the tradition of classic Persian cinema.

Nevertheless, there is no denying the predatory and base nature of the men exploiting Pari, Sara, and Donya. By forcing sexual relations underground and under the table, they become effectively severed from the strictures of respectable society. In effect, only the law of the jungle applies.

Yet, nobody is entirely a victim (especially not Pari), because Soozandeh has drawn such distinctive and multi-dimensional characters. There are not merely symbols, they are women with stories to tell (or rather try to keep secret). You would think the animation would provide a protective layer between the film’s provocative subject matter and the contributing cast, but Soozandeh’s use of rotoscoping techniques means there are indeed bravely identifiable performances to be seen throughout Taboo. Even through the transformative animation, Elmira Rafizadeh’s work as Pari is remarkably earthy and gutsy, while Zahra Amir Ebrahimi is quietly devastating as Sara. Yet, it is the silent indicting gaze of Bilal Yasar’s Elias that will truly haunt viewers.

Soozandeh largely focuses on sexual/gender iniquities, but he does not ignore other forms of institutionalized injustice, such as the pointless censorship of Babak’s music and the shocking sight of bodies swaying from the gallows at a public execution. Soozandeh holds a rotoscoped mirror up to contemporary Iran and forces viewers to give it a long, hard look. The result is a viscerally powerful experience that both seduces and horrifies. It is an outstanding film, definitely in the tradition of Persepolis and The Breadwinner, but clearly intended for mature audiences. Very highly recommended, Tehran Taboo opens this Wednesday (2/14) in New York, at Film Forum. Happy Valentine’s Day.

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