This short, transitional chapter edges us closer to what we refer to as the “new” world: Vinland [CONTINUE]

This film with its focus on the hardships of war as they impact children is heartbreaking. From its opening flash-forward of a girl jumping off a cliff into the void – a metaphor for the future of Kurdistan – to the eventual second American invasion – the film is a relentless vision of war.

The narrative is rejoined in the Spring. The Spring of Genji’s eighteenth year. We find him with a fever that he cannot seem to shake and is encouraged to pay a visit to an old ascetic who never leaves his cave these days. The ascetic seems to have helped others, and since nothing else has worked, Genji sets off. [more]

This internationally acclaimed film is nominated for an Oscar for Best Writing, Original Screenplay (Asghar Farhadi, writer and Director). The simple premises is that a couple is separating. From there, layer upon layer of heartache, marital strife, and moral dilemmas raise this astute film to a level approaching a masterpiece. The writing is honest, intricate and extraordinarily satisfying. There may be better films (not too many, though) – but I can think of no film in recent memory that dug to the heart of the matter(s) with such balance, brilliance, and compassion.

A Separation opens with Simin (Leila Hatami) and Nader (Peyman Moadi) arguing their case before a judge. Simin wants a separation, and custody, but under Islamic law, that’s  not going to happen. Her husband refuses to leave with her – and the daughter must stay with the father. The daughter wants to anyway, believing that her mother would never leave without her and would eventually come home. Nader won’t leave his father who is deteriorating badly under the onslaught of dementia. Simin wants a better life for their daughter. As with most arguments in this well-crafted film, both sides have a point.

Simin doesn’t leave the country, but moves home with her parents instead. Nader has to work, so he hires a housekeeper/caretaker for his father while he’s at work. Razieh (Sareh Bayat), pregnant and in need of money (her husband cannot find work and the bills are mounting), gets more than she bargained for with the incontinent father. She has to call on her cleric to ask if it is a sin to wash the body of a man not her husband. She is truly afraid of damnation and sinning. When she sneaks out for a Doctors appointment in the middle of the day, she ties the slumbering father to the bed and locks him in. Nader returns earlier than expected one day and finds his father fallen on the floor and barely breathing. This angers Nader greatly. When Razieh returns he confronts her, but she refuses to leave without her pay – which Nader claims she has already stolen. Nader pushes her out the door and slams it shut. There is some sort of fall (we do not see this) and the next day they get word that Razieh is in the hospital, having mis-carried their unborn child. Did Nader know she was pregnant? This is an important question, because if he did know he is potentially liable for murder. Whether he did know is a source of constant wonder: by his daughter, by his wife, by Razieh and her husband, as well as the judge. There are reasons to believe he did know. There are reasons to believe that he did not.

The truth: the telling of it, the finding out about it, the fervid belief that it really does matter are part and parcel of this one of many dilemmas that the viewer has to decide on. And that’s to the screenwriter’s credit that he allows the audience to work these things out for themselves. It’s a challenging film – not in the sense that it hard to follow – it is not – but in the sense that the filmmaker demands that you think, and think carefully, about these things.

One of the triumphs of the film is that it allows that Iran and America are not so different on an individual level. Sure, these are vast cultural differences. But those differences impinge in the same ways on all of us universally. The religious divide is eerily similar. The haves and the have nots follow the same suspicious paths.

Sarina Farhadi (Termeh, the troubled couple’s daughter) is the real life daughter of the director. The four actors who portray the two couples are all exceptional. This is a film for pondering, weighing out, accessing. And there are no easy answers here, as there are none in life. The climax is a bit of fitting cinema. Well done Mr. Farhadi.

I had heard reports in mid-December that she was dying, but she hung on until mid January. Ironically, her death was preceded by just a few days with the death of Johnny Otis (he of ”Willie and the Hand Jive” fame) , a blues and rock pioneer who was inextricably linked to James as well as other greats. In fact Otis discovered Etta James (as well as Big Mama Thornton). [more]

WTV has brought the story to Greenland, to Vinland, to the engagement with the indigenous peoples: The Skraelings. WTV decides The Skraelings deserve a closer look. Back to before 30,000 BC. In the beginning was….Elder Brother and Younger Brother. Of his origin, Elder Brother knew nothing. The ice had always been there, and he had always been on the ice. A time before consciousness he could not remember. There was only Self and Other. Other was Younger Brother who had come up through a seal hole in the ice. Maybe that was how he had come into existence? [more]

I keep getting surprised like this: movie genres I generally shy away from sometimes turn out to be enjoyable viewings. A case in point is A Christmas Tale (Un Conte de Noël). You know – the family gathering around the holidays, sometimes Thanksgiving, sometimes Christmas. It’s not the rather complicated dynamics of this family that kept me interested however. As always, it was the acting that  engaged me. I’m an ‘actor’ guy. If the acting is at a high  level, then I’m likely to be drawn in. And the acting here is very good indeed, starting with the great Catherine Deneuve. In this ‘tale’ of a holiday reunion, Deneuve is the matriarch of the Vuillard family, and the holiday is given more import because of the cancer diagnosis of Junon (Deneuve). It’s wonderful how the French value their aging actresses, unlike mainstream American films which seem to discard women at the first sign of a wrinkle. The industry has its exceptions of course. Deneuve has the ability to project a vibrancy wrapped in a world weariness that is remarkable.

Her eldest child Elizabeth (Anne Consigny) plays the resentful daughter who had lost a child to a genetic disease. Elizabeth is the ‘artist’ of the family, with a high-strung personality to match. The eldest son (Elizabeth’s brother) Henri (Mathieu Amalric) has buried his essential good nature in his anger: anger toward his failure, anger toward Elizabeth who has ‘banished’ him from all family gatherings. What is his failure? He had been conceived in hopes that he would be able to donate bone marrow to Elizabeth’s son – but he dies before he was of age. If this defies credibility, I’m with you there, but who is to say…

The irony is that Henri is the best hope for the survival of their mother, since his bone marrow might just save her! Well, if the story arc is a bit of a reach, never underestimate the complications that families can get themselves all twisted up about.

Junon’s husband Abel is played by Jean-Paul Roussillon. Fleshing out the cast are Chiara Mastroianni (Sylvia, Ivan’s wife), the youngest son Ivan (Melvil Poupaud). Elizabeth has a bit of an unfinished relationship with Simon, Ivan’s good friend and cousin (Laurent Capelluto). My favorite perhaps, was the minor role of Henri’s girlfriend Faunia (Emmanuelle Devos) who played the role of an audience to this madness, much as the filmgoer might: the bemused, outside observer.

Just a terrific, professional ensemble cast that was a joy to watch go through their paces.

The chorus was all boys and our costumes were white altar boy-like robes. We had to wear rouge and lipstick, which we boys were kind of embarrassed about. But the pay was good (what pay is not good to 10-year olds?) and Renata encouraged us by saying that if we worked hard and, she’d pay us double wages.

That was part of the chorus actually, which I still remember to this day. I didn’t realize I rehearsed so hard that it was ingrained into me. Doppia soldo became our mantra, and we got it too. That might have been my first pay day. The beginning and the end of my opera career.

As the resident musician, he sings Happy Birthday to the “in mates” (as he calls them – there is a medium security prison across the way) for those who are celebrating.

There you have it. I’ve got some clean-up to do and will be back in sync over the weekend.