The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas (2008)

Directed by Mark Herman
Written by John Boyne, from the novel by Mark Herman

***

In the middle of WWII, Bruno’s father, a soldier of the Third Reich, accepts a promotion.  The family leaves Berlin for his new post, and eight-year-old Bruno begins exploring immediately.  He soon discovers there is a settlement nearby, but his questions about the inhabitants are met with strange bans: the back garden is immediately forbidden him, and windows with views of the “farm” are boarded over.

All a child knows is what he’s told, and with jarring regularity, Bruno’s innocent questions are met with attempts to mould him according to Nazi doctrine.  His sister laps up the propaganda, while Bruno’s spirit of inquiry is attacked or circumvented.  He begins to doubt whether the adults really know what they’re talking about when he makes a new friend, a boy who wears striped pyjamas…

This lush production is beautifully photographed, and boasts excellent performances from the two young leads and David Thewlis, who as Bruno’s father turns from friendly, loving dad to repugnant, murdering fascist in the blink of an eye.  Lovingly made with meticulous attention to detail, it’s an interesting (and very British) attempt to show the way our minds are shaped in childhood.

Unfortunately, the film confuses its heavy message, relying on emotional manipulation and a dramatic, contrived ending, escalated by a deafening score to further ram home its significance.  The tumultuous events regrettably move the focus away from the most significant point of the film: that Bruno cannot understand the damaging adult ideas presented to him.

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is slightly wide of the mark, but it’s still worth a watch.  Concentrate on the behaviour of the characters and the reasons why Bruno’s questions are so disturbing, and you’ll feel the full, chilling weight behind his friendly observation: “We’re not supposed to be friends, you and me.  We’re supposed to be enemies.”

This review was originally written for an online magazine, and is republished with permission. 

Man on Wire

Directed by James Marsh

*****

In today’s suspicious climate, you’d be forgiven for thinking this story pure fiction: a group of shaggy-haired bohemians sneak inside two high profile, high security (and just plain high) American buildings with nearly a tonne of equipment, then spend the night setting it up, without getting caught?

Yet Philippe Petit and his intrepid gang managed exactly this in August 1974.  Their target was the almost completed World Trade Center, and the story has an added twist: the aim of the mission was nothing more sinister than secretly rigging a heavy cable between the Twin Towers, so wire-walker Petit could risk his life dancing 104 stories above New York City.

Dubbed the “artistic crime of the century”, the most astonishing thing is that they pulled it off.  Weaving together archive footage and interviews with the collaborators, Man On Wire is the energetic account of their feat.  We follow the poetically explosive Petit on his quest from its conception, through time spent honing his skills as a street performer, to the stunning conclusion.

Complete with spy-movie soundtrack, this is more like a crime caper than a documentary.  The meticulous planning, hilarious reconnaissance escapades, hair’s breadth escapes, complications and relationship breakdowns are showcased as Petit and his co-conspirators describe the adventure and its attendant fears.  Gathering pace, the tale hurtles towards the poignant climax: images of Petit lying on the wire between the towers, over four hundred metres above the street.  Even the police sent to bring him down were spellbound as he danced on the wire, evading capture for 45 minutes.

This is an utterly enthralling tale about a true character, who inspired his team with his relentless pursuit of the ambition he could not explain afterwards: “I do something magnificent and mysterious, and they ask me why?”  An absolute must see.

This review was originally written for an online magazine, and is republished with permission.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Written and directed by Woody Allen

*****

Best friends Vicky and Cristina arrive in Barcelona for the summer.  As is often the way, the two are total opposites: goal-oriented Vicky (Rebecca Hall) is due to marry her fiancée Doug when they get back to America, but in the meantime throws herself into a study of the Catalan culture for her masters thesis.  Creative dreamer Cristina (Scarlett Johansen) is hoping to use the time to figure out what to do with her life, which has so far been defined by a series of failed artistic experiments.

When Cristina flirtatiously throws them into the path of sexy local painter Juan Antonio, (Javier Bardem,) things heat up, causing tension when they both succumb to his charms.  Vicky fights the attraction and moves up her wedding, while Cristina pursues passion and moves in with him.  Cue Juan’s estranged wife, the charismatic Maria Elena, who’s none too pleased to see someone taking her place…

All the hallmarks of vintage Woody Allen films are present and correct in the writer/director’s latest offering – naturalistic, even awkward dialogue, conflicted characters, and sharp insights into human nature – but it’s also got that sparkle his most recent films have lacked.  Barcelona is a stunning backdrop to a story by turns raunchy and comic, the three leads are spot on, and Penelope Cruz puts in an explosive performance as deranged genius Maria Elena, utterly deserving her Oscar nomination for the role.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona is full of flavour and giggles, the ideal start for a girls' night out.  It’s going to spark plenty of debate, so follow it up with a large glass of wine and hours of gossip and relationship analysis.  Perfect!

Female Agents

Directed by Jean-Paul Salomé

Written by Jean-Paul Salomé and Laurent Vachaud

***1/2

In French and German with English subtitles

A top-secret mission at the turning point of World War II places protection of the imminent D-Day landing operation in the hands of a team of women.  Dropped into enemy territory, they are tasked with rescuing a British operative trapped in occupied France – before the Nazis discover why he was there.

The disparate, ill-prepared band face danger at every turn.  Led by French resistance fighter Louise (a brilliant Sophie Marceau) and commanded by her British-based brother, the women soon encounter serious complications, but not even the most terrifying situations deter them from their new objective.

Although Female Agents (LesFemmes de l’Ombre) is fiction, it is based on actual situations faced by genuine female agents.  These women fought for their beliefs alongside the men, and what they faced made re-integration into post-war life just as difficult – yet gender stereotypes prevented public recognition, and only a handful were ever decorated for their actions.

This film fulfils the director’s avowed aim of making people aware of these women’s contribution, but unfortunately the traditional bias has crept in with the credit.  Not since Charlie’s Angels have a bunch of gun toting ladies had such perfect lipstick, and when the chips are down several of them behave like, well, girls.  As realistic as the film otherwise is, it’s a disappointment to find the heroines characterised as either weak/feminine or strong/unfeminine.

Despite this let down, it’s a thrilling film.  The action is tense and unpredictable, and the period perfectly captured, from the uniforms right through to the stretches of wartime Paris with German street signs.  Ignore the rather naff sounding English title: (a straight translation, “the women of shadow” would have had more of a ring to it) this is a thriller with heart.  The viewer cannot be unmoved by the story, because even slightly diluted there’s truth worth remembering in the situations it depicts.

This review was originally written for an online magazine, and is republished with permission. 

Let the Right One In

Directed by Tomas Alfredson

Written by John Ajvide Lindqvist

**** 1/2

Twelve year old Oskar is a misfit, bullied by his classmates.  The lonely product of a broken marriage, he spends his evenings brooding over a gruesome scrapbook – if he’s not acting out revenge fantasies in the snow covered courtyard of his apartment block.

When the mysterious Eli moves in next door, Oskar senses a kindred spirit.  She’s as dark as he is fair, and shares his fondness for night time vigils in the playground.  They are gradually drawn together, and romance blossoms – but Eli’s underlying strangeness can’t be ignored for long.  She’s never out in daylight, is oblivious to cold, and arrived in town the same night the grisly murders started…

Primarily a drama, Let the Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in) is the poetic tale of two young outsiders trying to understand themselves in a world they don’t fit into.  The vampire story is almost incidental, yet there’s enough blood spilled to keep even those with the most sanguinary tastes happy, and established vampire legends are twisted into the story in surprising ways.

Set during a harsh Swedish winter in the early eighties, the snow-blanketed landscapes are a visual reminder that things aren’t necessarily what they seem.  The adult characters are as well muffled against sympathetic thought as they are against the cold, ensuring emotional isolation by building layers of miscommunication and oppressive silence into each interaction.  The often blurred or obscured images add to the trapped feeling, making us want to escape this cold world as much as Oskar does.

John Ajvide Lindqvist has adapted his own best-selling novel for the screen, and the spare screenplay and powerful, sensitive performances of the two young leads make this original vampire story an emotional, scary, and turbulent ride.

This review was originally written for an online magazine, and is republished with permission.

Doubt

Written and directed by John Patrick Shanley

****

A tough New York school principal fears one of her most vulnerable students may be the target of a predator.  Determined to protect him, she confronts her suspect: but this is 1964, and not only is the principal female, she is a nun of the Roman Catholic Church and accusing the universally admired school priest.

Facing off against Meryl Streep's steely-eyed Sister Aloysius, jovial Father Flynn (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) proves a strong adversary.  Naïve young Sister James (Amy Adams) is drawn into the argument, and wavers between the evidence of her own eyes and her natural inability to believe the worst.

Skilfully insinuating unease and uncertainty into the minds of the audience, the film proves its point: doubt is an exceptionally strong force.  Searching for the truth, the film journeys through a huge array of thematic considerations – race, gender, religion and morality are all called into question, and our opinions and perceptions seesaw in the balance.  By the time the credits roll, it’s rather difficult to know what to believe.

Writer-director John Patrick Shanley has brilliantly adapted his own Pulitzer Prize winning play for the movies.  The bleak streetscapes and cramped interiors take on emotional significance as fireworks erupt between the leads.  Although Streep has been getting the accolades, it’s actually not one of her best efforts.  It’s Hoffman who shines, alternately uncomfortably slimy and radiating with innocently righteous anger, making the scenes between the two leads sizzle.

Doubt is not action-packed, but movie-goers who like a puzzle will find it gripping and rewarding.  It’s featured heavily in nominations this awards season, and will almost certainly make an appearance at the Oscars in February.* 

This review was originally written for an online magazine, and is republished with permission.

* Postscript: Doubt was indeed represented at the Oscars, with five nominations in acting and writing - but no wins.