TIFF 2009: The Disapperance of Alice Creed

The Disappearance of Alice Creed (2009) dir. J. Blakeson
Starring: Eddie Marsan, Gemma Arterton, Martin Compston

****

With only his first feature film we can immediately sense special things to come from J. Blakeson - an ingenious three-hand kidnapper noir conceived and executed with the same kind of cinematic confidence as a young Christopher Nolan or David Fincher.

There should be very little said about the plot of this picture other than 2 kidnappers grab and hold for ransom the daughter of a wealthy man. That’s it. That’s all you should know before diving into Blakeson’s razor sharp, twisty and utterly beguiling chamber drama.

Blakeson takes one of the most basic of Hollywood genre-premises, the kidnap-ransom plot, distills everything extraneous to the three main characters, and boils the picture down to its essential emotions. We don’t meet any of the characters before the kidnapping, never see a money exchange or any conversations outside of the room, and never ever do we see a policeman.

There’s only three people in the film: Vic (Eddie Marsan) the alpha-criminal who goes about the business of crime with steely-eyed efficiency; Danny (Martin Compston), the apprentice, who follows orders from Vic and the only one who appears to have a conscience in the affair; and of course, Alice Creed (Gemma Anderton), the poor victim who spends most of the film gagged and bound to four corners of a bed.

The opening sequence is marvel of thriller montage scenes. Blakeson cuts together a stunning preparation sequence as we see Vic and Danny go to the hardware store, buy all the necessary tools and supplies for the job and construct their kidnappers' layer inside some kind of vacant apartment flat.

Blakeson’s formal and precise compositions, pacing and ultra-sharp lighting scheme resembles a David Fincher-like attention to detail, a style which compliments and subliminally establishes the precision of Vic and Danny’s plan.

The duo seems to have everything covered including a bed pan for Alice to pee in when required. What they don’t plan for is the emotional attachment to the job. As much as possible Vic commands Danny NOT to think, to remain focused on the work, Danny just can’t do that and when his motivations for the job are revealed, it becomes the first wrench in the works. Just when we think we know where the film is headed we learn about Vic’s motivations for the job. Even Alice’s needs and presence complicates things. Soon it becomes a complex Mexican stand-off, each one trying to hold their poker faces as best they can to get out alive. And by focusing on character as much as the procedural details as the scheme starts to unravel we’re never quite sure who, if anyone, will come out on top in the end – Vic, Danny, or Alice.

Many great directors have begun their careers with this type of noir. Blakeson’s work stands tall beside neo-noir classics such as “Bound”, “Shallow Grave”, “Memento”, “Blood Simple”. Watch for great things in the future from this guy.

P.S. On the IMDB it appears Blakeson is the writer for the 'Descent' sequel, which instantly puts that film in a whole new light.

TIFF 2009: The Most Dangerous Man in America

The Most Dangerous Man in America: Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers (2009) dir. Judith Ehrlich, Rick Goldsmith
Documentary

***1/2

The spectre of Richard Nixon continues to produce more compelling stories and interesting characters than ever before. With this documentary the microscope zooms in on the story of Daniel Ellsberg's leak of the Pentagon Papers and its influence into activisim in the 60’s, the Vietnam War and the fall of Richard Nixon- a film which successful links itself to the other great Nixon/Vietnam era political films such as ’Frost/Nixon’, ’All The President’s Men”, ’Nixon’, and ’The Fog of War’.

In many ways Daniel Ellsberg symbolizes the best qualities of the zeitgeist of political activism in the 60's - a man who risked family, career and public reputaion for the sake of the fundamental constitutional values which in his mind appeared to be forsaken by the country's elected powers. Ehlich and Goldsmith's film serves as a cinematic memoir for Ellsberg who reveals his motivations, regrets and the moment-by-moment emotions of the two year period between the leaking of the Papers and his ultimate exoneration.

To refresh.. the Pentagon Papers was the notorious term for a top secret study prepared by the Department of Defence on U.S./Vietnam relations from 1947-1968 - a study which revealed a scathing lies from four Presidents about the motivations, execution and escalation of the Vietnam War.

In 1971 Daniel Ellsberg, a former political advisor to Secretary of Defence Robert McNamara and researcher with the Rand Corporation leaked these to the New York Times, the effect of which saw him arrested for espionage, as well as causing the snowball effect of Watergate and Richard Nixon's eventual resignation.

Ellsberg is still alive and provides the narration and key interviews recounting this complex story. We learn about his Harvard education and recruitment into the exclusive political think tank, The Rand Corporation, where he made a name for himself with his ability to think outside the box. During this time his work drafting military risk strategies and decision-making theories helped influence Secretary of Defence Robert McNamara escalate the war in Vietnam. It wasn’t until he met his wife, an activist and protestor, did he awaken to the real world effects of his work. And so Ellsberg recounts the difficult moral conflict he found himself faced with. With this knowledge in his possession, does he have moral obligation to disclose it for the greater good of the nation?

We learn about the connections he makes with colleague Anthony Russo to steal the papers and covertly send them to the papers. When the news hits the streets we get to hear the first hand reactions of Nixon, John Ehlichman, and Henry Kissinger via Nixon's own White House wiretap tapes sounding off on the shit storm fallout caused by the leak.

The uncomplicated tried and true documentary techniques are not flashy but effective visualize the story. Talking heads are formally composed, artistic recreations borrowed from the Errol Morris, or ‘Man on Wire’ school of oblique close-ups do the job visualizing what could not be shown by news footage or stock photos. Ultimately the emotional power is in the voices and faces of the participants.

At 75 Ellsberg emerges as a hero and a champion for political activism and perhaps the original and most important whistle blower ever. Ellsberg’s moral conflict is articulated best by one of the interviewees who discusses the need to have young people on the jury of his trial. Anyone of middle age would likely find disdain for what Ellsberg did, not because of ethical differences, but the fact that Ellberg's actions would have revealed the cowardice of those ordinary men and women who wouldn't have had the guts to do the right thing - the decicion to risk family and career for one’s morals is something few of us have face, and for those that do, even fewer would go through with it.

TIFF 2009: Harry Brown

Harry Brown (2009) Dir. Daniel Barber
Starring: Michael Caine, Emily Mortimer and David Bradley

*1/2

Guest Review by Greg Klymkiw

A new vigilante picture starring Sir Michael Caine as the title character, a senior citizen who cleans up the scum in his neighborhood whilst avenging the murder of an old pal should be music to the ears of most movie-goers. It certainly was to mine. But as this turgid, poorly paced, humourless, somewhat pretentious and far too precious picture un-spooled, all I kept thinking was: “Oh no, say it isn’t so!” As hard as I tried to like the picture, it was pretty much impossible to muster any enthusiasm.

The screenplay by Gary Young (“Shooters”) is serviceable enough. It opens with some brutal violence, lays the groundwork for Harry’s seemingly mild mannered character (an ex-Marine as it turns out, who served Britain in Ireland during the “troubles”), efficiently stacks the deck for the audience to enjoy watching our title hero take out all the filth and paints several vivid portraits of youth run amuck that are guaranteed to convert even the most liberal sensibilities to the noble cause of vigilantism (or send them running for the door in disgust at how lower class kids are portrayed as vicious irredeemable psychopaths who deserve only death).

The problem lies mostly with first-time feature director Daniel Barber, whose previous work includes television commercials (always a bad sign) and an Academy Award nominated short film (no real guarantee of talent). The clichéd bleach-bypass-ish lighting that contrasts with the deep, semi-noir-ish deep blacks is not without mood, but there’s no real imagination to the compositions – no urgency, no real edge. The cutting is even more by the numbers and lacks the same kind of drive and build-up that made a lot of the 70s crime pictures so intense.

The picture that comes immediately to mind is Mike Hodges’s stunning 1971 crime and retribution thriller “Get Carter” (which also starred Caine), but even the mere thought of that picture’s relentless nastiness serves to constantly remind us of how little oomph “Harry Brown” has.

“Get Carter” is a rollercoaster. “Harry Brown” is the kiddies’ car ride.

All that said, Sir Michael handles himself magnificently and his restrained, intelligent performance comes close to saving the movie. His depiction of seeming stoicism that is ultimately unable to hide the sadness in his eyes when he gazes upon a photograph of his long-dead daughter or his Alzheimer’s-afflicted wife or his best friend who expresses fear and anger at being harassed by neighborhood thugs is powerful and moving. As the indignities are heaped upon Harry, we can see the anger dancing and flickering in his irises – a guarantee that much carnage will follow.

In spite of Caine’s performance, though, the movie is pretty much a slog. Barber metes everything out at a snail’s pace and appears to do so in order to give the movie the sort of weight he clearly hopes will raise it above a simple vigilante picture. It’s this precious, holier-than-thou attitude towards the material that destroys all potential for entertainment value. Clearly, the director wants us to question our reactions to the proceedings, but all we end up questioning is why in hell the movie is so boring? Why is their no nastiness to Caine’s actions? Where’s the relish the director should be taking in all the displays of carnage. And while I am thankful to Barber that he does not resort to the fashionable, but annoying and lazy herky-jerky style of shooting and cutting the action – he often hangs back and lets things play out naturally – it’s the overall pace of the picture and attitude of “I’m above exploitation” that affects the picture’s ability to involve us.

Great vigilante movies get under our skin by forcing us to cheer the actions of the person who seeks retribution so that maybe, just maybe, we WILL genuinely question our own reactions to the violence as it is being perpetrated. They do this by bringing a pulp sensibility to the material much like Hodges did in “Get Carter”.

The only straw of entertainment value to grasp at is Caine’s terrific performance, but it’s simply and finally not enough.

One especially annoying speed bump in the movie is the performance of Emily Mortimer as a homicide detective who is investigating the murder of Harry’s old pal and begins to suspect that our hero is the person committing a series of killings amongst the neighbourhood’s underworld. Not only is she miscast, but her dour demeanour is singularly unattractive and we long for one of the thugs to erase her completely from the proceedings.

“Harry Brown” commits a cardinal sin – it tries to gussy itself up as something it isn’t. This has produced a picture that MIGHT appeal to a politically correct minority who can pretend they’re NOT watching the movie for the carnage and would normally not be caught dead in a theatre showing a kick-ass vigilante picture, but all the rest of us – who like our action straight-up (morality be damned!) get supremely short-changed. That said, however, Sir Michael is great, and that, I suppose, is not to be sneezed at.

“Harry Brown” is playing at the 2009 Toronto International Film Festival and will be theatrically released by E1 Films.

TIFF 2009: Chloe

Chloe (2009) dir. Atom Egoyan
Starring: Julianne Moore, Amanda Seyfried, Liam Neeson, Max Theriot

**1/2

It’s a shame ‘Chloe’ turned out to be what it is. For two thirds, it’s an entrancing Hitchcockian thriller under the filter of Atom Egoyan sophistication. Unfortunately a concerted effort to stay in the mainstream sees the film play out on the straight and narrow path toward cliché and familiar genre storytelling - thus revealing itself as nothing more than a recycled sexual genre thriller from the 1990’s.

Catherine (Julianne Moore) is a sexually frustrated doctor married to David (Liam Neeson), a university professor, both lead busy lives and barely have any romantic time for each other. Their teenaged son, Michael (Max Theriot), is just discovering the joys of sex and spends plenty of time locked in his bedroom with his girlfriend. When Catherine suspects David of cheating, she’s not so much upset as jealous of him. Enter Chloe, a sexy high priced call girl who plies her trade in the same posh upper class Toronto restaurants as Catherine. After a brief meeting Catherine tracks her down offers her a proposition to flirt with her husband as a test of his fidelity.

Chloe turns the trick, and gets paid and reports back on the results. Not satisfied with just one encounter Catherine pays her again and again to increase the affair, the effect of which actually turns Catherine on. Catherine and Chloe's relationship deepens creating a situation even more dangerous than a naughty affair.

It's Julianne Moore’s picture here, our hero really, carrying the burden of the action and with all the emotional conflict on her shoulders. It’s a demanding role to manage the direction in which her character sways - from sexually frustrated alpha-female to emotionally naked sex slave - but Moore pulls it off. Seyfried is alluring when her character needs to tease us with her mantrap flirtations. Egoyan even opens up eying her stunning nude body being clothed, shot discreetly of course with carefully placed camera angles. Her big blue eyes and lusciously full lips are nothing short of perfect. When her dangerous side is revealed so does Seyfried's inadequacies, failing to convince us her psychotic obsessions don’t rely on the “Single White Female‘ or ‘Fatal Attraction‘ precedent.

Egoyan’s biggest strength has always been his ability to hide and reveal information for maximum emotional impact. Maybe it’s the linear narrative or the genre requirements which hold him back here but it’s a predictable and unmemorable course charted. As the chess pieces are setup brilliantly I was hoping the film wouldn’t go where it appeared to be headed. And as the running time clipped along the realization slowly set in that it was the only place it could possibly go. And so, by the third act we find ourselves in a full fledged 1990’s sexual thriller, no more intelligent, original or sophisticated than anything we’ve seen before.

Going through the credits it’s easy to see how this picture went off the rails - or stayed on the rails, depending on your perspective. Ivan and Jason Reitman are credited as producers (instead of the arthouse-leaning Robert Lantos) and the ones who found the property and recruited Egoyan. Its the first picture where Egoyan hasn't written his own script, and the mainstream direction the film goes has someone else's fingerprints all over it.

It’s Egoyan’s most mainstream film which perhaps might satisfy audiences put off by his usual psychology ruminations but it will likely only tease naughty boys looking to catch sight of Amanda Seyfried's lovely breasts.

TIFF 2009: Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (2009) dir, Werner Herzog
Starring: Nicolas Cage, Val Kilmer, Eva Mendes, Vondie Curtis-Hall

***1/2

The new 'Bad Lieutenant' feels like one big cinematic joke leaving those who don’t get it alienated and dumbfounded and those who do laughing in hysterics. When this movie was first announced - idiosyncratic director Werner Herzog remaking or refashioning Abel Ferrara’s great character study of hedonism, depravity and redemption - none of us knew what to expect, but if anyone could possibly rework this material for the best it would Werner Herzog. The result indeed its an oddball film of monumental proportions, the work of a complete madman with total freedom with his cinematic canvas.

Nicolas Cage is Terence McDonough, the film’s title character. Like Harvey Keitel he’s addicted to drugs - explained to us this time in a flashback - and has the confidence that he can get away with anything. He and his partner Stevie (Val Kilmer) get assigned to a case of a family murdered as part of a Senegalese drug vendetta. As the investigation progress the events of his personal life interweave and interfere with the work.

Along the way Terry crosses paths with a number of oddballs. There’s Frankie (Eva Mendes) a prostitute who’s also his girlfriend and #1 drug partner who will develop the urge to kick the habit. Terry's also a gambler taking bets on college football with his weirdo bookie played by Brad Dourif. There’s his father and alcoholic stepmother who, and there’s his father’s dog which he has to take care of. There’s the child of the murdered family whom he brings along with him to his many sordid escapades, there’s the drug kingpin, ‘Big Fate’ (Xzibit) who proposes to Terry a partnership in organized crime, and there’s his police chief (Vondie Curtis-Hall) who tells him he’s close to having his badge revoked.

I can honestly say this is the only film to ever pull me back from ‘one of the worst pictures I’ve ever seen’ to become a headshaking instant cult classic in the same sitting.

It takes over half way through to figure this picture out. On one hand some scenes serve to recreate the hedoism and train wreck journey of Harvey Keitel’s character, others serve the tone of an investigative noir and other times we're watching Lynchian black comedy.

The opening scenes which appear to be played straight are executed with strange amateurish and uneven quality. Val Kilmer is unintentionally hilarious as Terry’s loose cannon partner, and the scenes meant to rival Keitel’s more audacious notorious scenes end up painfully overplayed and rotten.

Slowly we get accustomed to the general theme of wackiness, anchored by Nicolas Cage's wonderful performance. His acting style is perfectly suited to this material. Herzog appears to allow Cage to let loose like never before resulting in a number instant classic set pieces. Terry’s visit to the pharmacy to refill his vicodin prescription is priceless, and arguably the film's eye popping climax is the surreal drug deal shoot out - a scene which will likely be talked about for some time to come.

At some point it all clicked. Like I was out of sync throughout the picture. Once I got engaged the film dissolves away all its chaff revealing an utterly fascinating and entertaining surreal fantasy worthy of David Lynch.

The presence of Herzog’s other film, 'My Son My Son, What Have Ye Done' is important to understanding this picture. Though I haven't seen that film yet I defer by colleague Reece Crothers' assessment of Lynch's collaboration in that picture and assume a similar influence creeped into this one. So audience must come in with an awareness of both filmmakers’ previous films, as well as the original 'Bad Lieutenant' in order to fully appreciate the mad genius of this picture.

TIFF 2009: Slovenian Girl and Mall Girls

Slovenian Girl – Slovenka (2009) Dir. Damjan Kozole
Starring: Nina Ivanishin

***1/2

Mall Girls – Galerianki (2009) Dir. Katarzyna Roslaniec
Starring: Anna Karczmarczyk

***

Guest Review By Greg Klymkiw

The most alarming trend in Eastern Europe since the fall of Communism has been the sexual exploitation of women. In spite of the promise of a new life through capitalism and the free market, pretty much all of these countries have suffered a drastic rise in poverty and homelessness. Add to the mix an Old World patriarchy that remains entrenched in Slavic cultures, a veritable explosion of organized crime and an increasing demand for sexual services – life for many young women has become desperate, cheap and dangerous. The combination of basic needs not being met and an ever-multiplying Western-styled consumerism creeping into the consciousness of the people through advertising has meant a rise in women either choosing to be prostitutes, or worse (as so expertly detailed in investigative journalist Victor Malarek’s shocking book “The Natashas”), women are duped and/or kidnapped and subsequently forced into prostitution. One million women per year from Eastern Europe disappear and are sold into sexual slavery.

The 2009 film festival circuit sees the release of two motion pictures that look at various aspects of women in the sex trade – both made in former Communist countries.

“Slovenian Girl (Slovenka)” is a Croatian-German-Slovenian-Serbian co-production directed by Damjan Kozole and is a resolutely grim, haunting, beautifully crafted and powerfully acted story of a young woman from a small Slovenian town who lives in Ljubljana, seeking to finish her education and better herself by working as an independent escort. Aleksandra ( Nina Ivanishin) studies English and is enrolled at university. She has purchased a luxurious apartment with an exquisite view and to all who know her; she is a smart, savvy young woman who is grabbing the dream of a new capitalist world. Alas, she lives a lonely, haunted existence – hiding her source of income from everyone close to her. Working as an independent escort, she hits several major roadblocks – a foreign politician dies in her room from a stroke spurred on by a Viagra overdose, the police are actively seeking her, a group of vicious thugs/pimps are trying to force her into sexual slavery and she’s desperately behind in her mortgage payments since she is trying to juggle an academic life, family responsibilities and her life as a call girl. She is so beleaguered that she finds it impossible to make enough money.

Leading lady Nina Ivanishin is a real treasure. With her long, dark straight tresses and a face that strives to betray little emotion in the realm of adversity (save for the terror she experiences and expresses at the hands of the pimps when her veneer falls apart), Ivanishin delivers a moving and groundbreaking performance. If the Gods are smiling on this actress, she might well become a big international star. She is definitely one of many reasons to see this remarkable film.

Director Kozole creates a stunning mise-en-scene – delivering image after image that seems to have much of the colour drained from it. Whether it is the dull greys of the exteriors or the tungsten and/or fluorescent lights of the interiors, there is rich detail within every shot – creating a world that bristles with reality, but does so without the almost de-rigueur grainy, handheld shaky-cam. He has a classical style that is subtle in its subversion.

This is a heart-breaking movie that creates a world where for people like Aleksandra, the only choice, the only hope for a better life is to sell her sexuality. In spite of this, there are no traditional patriarchal judgements forced on her character, her choices or the story itself. In fact, that Aleksandra actually makes a choice and struggles (no matter how unsuccessfully) is one of the reasons the picture is so moving. She controls her destiny, even though it means she must shut herself down – almost machine-like – when she is either with clients or when she is hiding her secret life from those around her.

“Mall Girls”, a Polish film by director Katarzyna Roslaniec, is a terrific companion piece to “Slovenian Girl”. Focusing upon the lives of several poor 14-year-old girls, it is an exquisitely directed piece of filmmaking. Using a swirling, occasionally jittery camera and settings that offer stunning contrasts between the colour-dappled world of the mall where the girls find true happiness and the dank hallways and scuzzy, cramped apartments in housing projects where the grime and poverty ache with despair, Roslaniec creates a visual palate that reflects the dichotomous lives of the girls – both the dreams (the mall, consumerism and easy money) and the realities (squalid homes where physical abuse and poverty run rampant, cramped classrooms presided over by frustrated teachers and sordid backdrops for all manner of sexual activity). Add to this the extraordinary, fresh performances of all the young actors and one has a film that could have well been perfect.

What betrays this perfection is a screenplay that unfortunately veers into territory that’s too expected, too simple and finally much too convenient. Worse yet, the story rushes to a conclusion that strains the credibility the film garners in its first two-thirds. That said, Roslaniec ends the film with such a daring and evocative final shot, that one could almost forgive the script’s eventual deficiencies in its last act.

Another element that works beautifully however, is how the script, direction and performances exquisitely capture the contrasts in these girls’ lives between their burgeoning sexuality and their willingness to risk it all for emotionless, loveless sex in exchange for money and other favours. Roslaniec and the script also render the public school peer pressure and the various rollercoaster-like emotional rides the movie both reflects and takes us on.

“Slovenian Girl” and “Mall Girls” are touching and tragic portraits of how womanhood in Eastern Europe is being assaulted, perverted and exploited in a society and culture so full of promise, yet bitterly offering only despair and easy ways to make poor and often tragic choices.

TIFF 2009: Triage

Triage (2009) Dir. Danis Tanovic
Starring: Colin Farrell, Paz Vega, Branko Djuric, Jamie Sives and Christopher Lee

*1/2

Guest Review By Greg Klymkiw

During the first thirty minutes of “Triage”, one is convinced the movie is going to be good – maybe even great. Based upon the novel by Scott Anderson, the screenplay is adapted by its director Danis Tanovic, the talented Bosnian filmmaker who previously delivered the powerful multi-award-and-Oscar-winning “No Man’s Land”.

Alas, all the film’s early promise dissipates when the narrative takes a fatal turn and the movie never recovers. The first problem is that it does not take the expected direction, which would have been entertaining, and even harrowing, but one can accept that the storytellers wished to move in a completely different and less conventional direction. This is all well and good, but the direction the story moves in is not only un-engaging, it offers the audience a dull perspective and ruins everything that MIGHT have been involving and arresting about the picture.

This really is too bad, because the first part of “Triage” is supremely gripping. Longtime friends and photojournalist partners Mark (Colin Farrell) and David (Jamie Sives) dive head first into the war-enflamed killing fields of Kurdistan, leaving their gorgeous wives behind on the home front. Both ladies, Elena (Paz Vega) and the pregnant Diane (Kelly Reilly) are understandably worried, but are also extremely supportive of their husbands’ talent and drive to capture the sickening realities of war for the world to see. Once in Kurdistan, the two men find themselves in a triage unit where a makeshift hospital has been set up in caves and tents. Presided over by Dr. Taizani (a great performance by Branko Djuric), the photographers are shocked at how the Doctor uses yellow and blue tags to respectively decide which wounded soldiers will receive treatment and which ones are too far-gone. The latter soldiers are mercy-killed with a bullet to the head – delivered by the Doctor himself. David has had quite enough and decides he’d rather be with his pregnant wife, so he leaves the zealous, photo-hungry Mark behind. The Kurds continue offensives against the Iraqis and Mark is badly wounded, but the Doctor awards him with a yellow tag, declaring him treatable. Mark and the Doctor strike up a close bond, but soon, it is obvious that Mark needs to return home to heal properly. And so he does.

So far, so good, but here is where the picture takes a major dive in the toilet.

When Mark is comfortably ensconced with his insanely beautiful sex kitten wifey, he is informed that David has not yet returned. Haunted by horrific dreams, Mark’s wounded legs give out completely. When his paralysis is deemed psychosomatic, Elena calls upon her estranged psychiatrist grandfather Joaquin (Christopher Lee) to heal hubby.

The rest of the movie is taken up with psychoanalysis, Mark whining, the ladies worrying and the mystery of David’s disappearance. Occasionally, the probing of the shrink (a very entertaining bit of thesping from Christopher Lee) wakes the audience up when Mark is forced to relive – via handy dandy flashbacks, a handful of war atrocities he has previously covered.

One might have been able to forgive this dull turn of events if the expected – albeit conventional dénouement had been Mark’s cure and a kick-ass “Deer Hunter” or “Rambo” styled trip back to Kurdistan to rescue David.

This does not happen. Instead, the movie builds to the inevitable revelation that David died and that Mark was responsible. Don’t get angry. This is not a spoiler. This revelation is so bone-headedly predictable after the first half-hour that one dismisses it outright as a possible story direction. When it happens, the groans of disappointment are palpable.

Even if the filmmakers had maintained this dullsville direction, the movie could have been saved if they hadn’t committed the biggest storytelling mistake – that is to keep this information as some sort of secret. If it had been revealed early on, we might have been able to engage emotionally with Mark’s character and Colin Farrell’s excellent performance would not have been scuttled. Mark’s struggles would have made far more narrative sense, but all we’re left with is the story of a whining loser photojournalist.

What this picture needed, finally, was a little cinematic triage during the development stage and maybe some of the mistakes it makes would have been more adequately addressed. Never fear, however, now that you know the “surprise” ending, which really comes as no surprise, you might actually be able to appreciate the story and Colin Farrell’s performance a lot more.

Thank Heaven for small mercies!

“Triage” is playing at the Toronto International Film Festival and will be released theatrically by E1 Entertainment.

TIFF 2009: Max Manus

Max Manus (2009) dir. Joachim Rønning, Espen Sandberg
Starring: Aksel Hennie, Agnes Kittelsen, Ken Duken, Nicolai Cleve Broch

**

The Norwegian resistance movement is the subject of this big budgeted sprawling co-production treatment. Clearly this an important story to Norwegians - the true tale of a group of youngsters, turned commando terrorists who, over the course of 5 years, manage to help turn the tide of war. It’s a noble effort featuring some fine young actors playing their roles with honour and dignity, but there’s too much story in a too short a time resulting in a cinematic dilution of emotion and suspense.

Max Manus (Aksel Hennie) is introduced fighting for Norway against the German invasion in a raucous battle scene in the snow. Max tells us in voiceover the embarrassment of his country’s quick surrender fueled his desire to fight even harder against the Nazis. We watch Max form a résistance group of likeminded young people, who produce propaganda papers with as much zeal as a group of frat kids. But when their carelessness finds Max caught by the Gestapo, the reality of their actions becomes quickly apparent.

Max manages to escape and regroup in Scotland where he’s trained as a commando to work in the large Allied-coordinated resistance movement. His missions involve planting bombs on boats and buildings under the noses of the Nazis. Max becomes so good at what he does he becomes a legend within the Nazi SS, who are determined to find him. One by one his fellow warriors and good friends are hunted down and killed leaving only Max to put the final nail in the coffin for the Nazis.

There’s nothing false in “Max Manus” yet the film remains at a distance too far for the audience to be intimately invested in the emotions of these events. It’s the ‘hopscotching’ effect of skipping through the highlights of the five years over which the film takes place. In the first 15mins we meet Max, see him as a soldier on the front, get injured, start up a resistance, develop a propaganda newspaper, get caught, escape and join up with the Allies in Scotland. Scenes are just too short to enjoy and the filmmakers even resort to annoying narration to fill in the details of what the montage scenes can’t. Thankfully they discard the device when it’s not longer necessary.

In skipping too fast between locations, we never feel the threat against Max and his fighters. One moment they’re planting a bomb underneath a battleship and the next moment they’re in Sweden or Scotland sipping whisky. Perhaps some dramatic licence was needed to keep the characters under the pressure cooker of undercover terrorism - the set pieces in ‘Valkyre’ or ‘Munich’ serving as the best cinematic examples.

Other opportunities are missed all over the place as well, chiefly the parallel stories of Max Manus and his foil Siegfried, the chief Nazi SS man. By the nature of the editing pattern there would appear to be some sort of ‘Catch Me If You Can’ cat and mouse chase going on, but never does one influence the other. Looking carefully Siegfried actually has no tangible narrative purpose and could have been cut out altogether without harm to the story. And even if Siegfried were weaved in appropriately there’s much screen time devoted to some romance between he and his secretary, which inexplicably disappears before the third act.

The only respite comes, unfortunately, in the final credits when we see photographs of the real life characters next to the actors' faces - not an original device, but one which finally anchors down the reality of the story. It’s too little too late, because the filmmakers have missed this potentially thrilling story with uninspired and only adequate storytelling.

TIFF 2009: L'Affaire Farewell

L’affaire Farewell (2009) Dir. Christian Carion
Starring: Emir Kusturica, Guillaume Canet, Ingeborga Dapkunaite, Dina Korzun, Maria Lara, Fred Ward, Philippe Magnan, David Soul and Willem Dafoe

***1/2

Guest Review By Greg Klymkiw

While the 1980s will always feel to me like one of the most culturally empty periods I ever experienced in my life, one thing I will never forget was just how close-to-home and strange the Cold War between the former Soviet Union and the rest of the Western world – particularly the United States – actually was. It was a time of paranoia, macho posturing between the USA and USSR and always the fear of nuclear warfare. Having been born on the cusp of the Baby Boom and Gen-X, I was certainly made aware of the early days of the Cold War during the 50s, but it really wasn’t until the 80s that I felt I got a real taste of feeling like I was living – if not culturally – politically in a climate that felt very much like a living history and that events were transpiring that would change the world forever.

Christian Carion, who directed the lovely, sentimental World War I drama “Joyeaux Noel” (not only an award winning and critically acclaimed film, but a huge boxoffice hit in its domestic territory France and eventually all over the world) has, with his latest picture “L’affaire Farewell”, crafted a work that is imbued with considerable nostalgia appeal in terms of how expertly it captures the espionage and flavour of the Cold War during the 80s, but is also, one of the best political thrillers in years.

Based on the true story of the high ranking KGB official who secretly fed the biggest state secrets to the West and was responsible for the downfall of communism in Eastern Europe, “L’affaire Farewell” is an utterly compelling, straight ahead picture that thrills with both subject matter and impeccable craft.

Colonel Grigoriev (the brilliant master director Emir Kusturica in his formal debut as a leading man) feels completely disillusioned with Communism under Leonid Brezhnev and with the assistance of Pierre (actor and director Guillaume Canet) a non-professional French civilian working in Moscow leaks information designed to bring down the entire Soviet regime. This famous historical mission, dubbed “farewell” and led by French president Mitterand (Phillipe Magnan) and US president Ronald Reagan (Fred Ward) was, without question, the most daring operation in the history of 20th Century espionage.

Carion parcels out this fascinating story with precision and class. Most importantly, he does so in a manner that keeps us enthralled and in a heightened state of suspense – thanks to a first-rate script by Eric Raynaud and a mastery that recalls both Costa-Gavras and Fred Zinneman, most notably and respectively conjuring memories of “Z” and “The Day of the Jackal” and reminding us of just how good an old-fashioned political thriller can be. There’s nothing overtly flashy about Carion’s approach and the picture feels closer to the measured pace of Zinneman than that of the rapid-fire Costa-Gavras, but his film clearly shares the Gavras blend of personal and political and nowhere is this more apparent in how the plot balances the private lives of his characters against the sweep of historical events.

The cast is outstanding. Emir Kusturica as Grigoriev is a revelation. With his tough, tender, brave and cynical performance, Kusturica mines his sexy-ugly Bogart qualities and creates a character who is, in many ways, as haunting as that of Rick in “Casablanca”. The camera loves Kusturica and one hopes he’ll get more chances to deliver the goods on-camera as well as off. Guillaume Canet is a far more traditional leading man type – handsome AND sensitive, he might even have the more difficult role as he needs to transition from a civilian bureaucrat into a spy who thinks he’s getting better, but is, in fact swimming deeper in the shit than he could even begin to comprehend. The array of beautiful leading ladies as the strong, supportive women in the lives of these two men are a perfect compliment to their male counterparts.

The real fun can be found in the fabulous casting of Fred Ward and Phillipe Magnan as Reagan and Mitterand. Ward is especially stunning. A handsome, grizzled veteran of tough guy roles, Ward is perfect as the former matinee-idol-turned-president. While he bears only a passing resemblance, his verbal intonations and even a few physical ones are eerily reminiscent of a President who might have often felt like a joke at the time, but in retrospect seems like just what America and the world needed in the 80s.

One of the script’s great touches includes Reagan constantly screening the final scenes of John Ford’s “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” to his aides – reminding both himself, them and the audience of how there is always more than one side to every story and that history itself has a way of swapping truth and fiction in order to tell a ripping yarn.

And have no doubt, “L’affaire Farewell” is one hell of a ripping yarn. While the movie spends perhaps a bit too much time on the romantic relationships of both Grigoriev and Pierre, they add a personal touch to the proceedings that suggests how life often throws the curveballs of normalcy into pretty much anything – no matter how extraordinary one’s situation might be. This contrasts quite beautifully with the espionage and ultimately lends even more weight to the moments of suspense which range from creeping, mounting anticipation to all-out esde-of-the-seat stuff.

While much of the threat of Communism was manufactured by the US propaganda machine, the movie (and Grigoriev’s character) display how even the noblest of intentions (Grigoriev sadly recalls the need for revolution during the early part of the 20th century) can slip into an abyss of evil and how only by destroying what transforms into all-out totalitarianism is a goal that must always be countered head-on. In “L’affaire Farewell”, we not only get a sense of how evil Communism had become, but that finally it was individuals and not governments who brought the whole deck of cards down.

“L’affaire Farewell” is playing at the 2009 Toronto International Film Festival and will be theatrically released by E1 Films.

TIFF 2009: Waking Sleeping Beauty

Waking Sleeping Beauty (2009) dir., Don Hahn
Documentary

***

It may seem odd that even though I despise those ‘Little Mermaid-Lion King Era’ Disney pictures of the early 90’s I was still attracted to the story behind the making of these films. The corporate story of Disney from its fall from grace in feature animation to its triumphant rise under Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg is given feature documentary treatment in ‘Waking Sleeping Beauty’.

The title refers to a quote from Katzenberg upon being hired by the company, the need to recapture the magic touch of Uncle Walt, who died in 1966, just as the company was moving in the direction away from animation and into theme parks, TV and other ancillary ventures.

The start date is 1984 with the hiring Michael Eisner from Paramount and Frank Wells of Warner Bros to run the company. Along with Roy Disney, the sole mainstay from the Uncle Walt era and Jeffrey Katzenberg who would become the celebrated ‘saviour‘ of the animation, they form the trinity of characters for the film. There’s enough TV coverage for Hahn to use to visualize the hoopla around this event, much of it from a 60 Minutes segment conducted by Diane Sawyer.

We all know the persona of Michael Eisner, not an actor, but a man with a persuasive enough voice to make him the public figurehead of the new Disney. Jeffrey Katzenberg is characterized as a money-maker who is quoted as saying, he doesn’t to win the Academy Award but the Bank of America Award.

Early on we get to see early footage of a young Tim Burton, John Lasseter and other future star filmmakers working as animators under the old regime. Hahn depicts the youthful animation division as a ragtag bunch of kids holding together the legacy of Disney with duck tape and chewing gum. The lowest point for everyone was the overly budgeted failure ‘The Black Cauldron’ and the usurping of the throne by Steven Spielberg and Don Bluth with their new animation collaboration, "An American Tale". But slowly, by the hand of Katzenberg, the hits start rolling in, ‘Oliver & Company’, ‘Little Mermaid’, “Beauty and the Beast’, and ‘Aladdin.’ But by the time their biggest hit, “The Lion King’ rolls around the money making machine starts showing signs of wear and tear behind the curtain. Hahn cleverly demonstrates the ego clashes between Roy Disney, Eisner and Katzenberg by intercutting their own filmed introductions to their movies, a childish competition to be bigger than the other. With Katzenberg increasing his public persona higher than Eisner’s we’re told this is the impetus for the breakup of the once mighty trio. Knowing a second wave of Disney resurgence with the merger with Pixar, post Katzenberg, his departure doesn’t have much gravitas, but it’s the death of the unassuming peacemaker Frank Wells which provides the emotional cap.

Unfortunately, since Eisner is still with the company we don’t get to hear from him outside of the canned interviews, soundbites from news stories and other publicity-policed segments. In fact, none of the non-stock interviews are shown on camera. We only hear their voices, identified by pop-up graphics. This decision was most likely made to avoid any potential stodginess which might result from documentary formalities, but it comes at the expense of being able to see the facial expressions and mannerisms of the film’s central characters. At one point one of the animators tells us the soul of an animated film is in the eyes of its character - a severe bit of ironic failure which Hahn unfortunately fails to see.

And overriding everything is the silent hand of Disney guiding this film. Don Hahn, producer of ‘The Lion King’, and longtime Disney employee narrates the story. His voice is not that compelling and he’s not even much of a storyteller, but his rise from lowly coffee fetcher for the Disney’s cherished animators of old in the 60’s to the producer of the most successful classical animated film ever made certainly gives him the authority. But with this, inevitably, a celebratory back-patting feeling arises. Hurray for us. The film never goes beyond the information it’s meant to convey. The lack of personality from their subjects means the film never rises to the artistic heights and pathos of say, ‘The Kid Who Stayed in the Picture’ or 'An Inconvenient Truth.' And so I couldn't help but think how Davis Guggenheim or Brett Morgen would have served this material.

TIFF 2009: Valhalla Rising

Valhalla Rising (2009) dir. Nicolas Winding Refn
Starring: Mads Mikkelson, Gary Lewis, Ewan Stewart

*1/2

There wasn’t a film I anticipated more at TIFF than “Vahalla Rising”. If anyone was going to do a mythological Viking story, I would have chosen Refn – a bold and muscular filmmaker largely unknown in North America but revered internationally for his magnificent Pusher trilogy. He also shocked me to bits this year at Sundance with his raucous ode to British prison lifer Charles Bronson, in “Bronson”.

And so with ‘Vahalla Rising’, a Danish filmmaker doing a Scandinavian story with Mads Mikkelson in the lead?? Pass me the popcorn please.

What Refn births onto the screen is the most alienating displeasing mind-numbing cinematic garbage I’ve seen in a long time.

Somewhere in Northern Scotland, or Scandinavia (which, at the time, was not all that dissimilar), it’s the Middle Ages – a time and place when Christian zealots warred with the old pagan/heathen way of life. A group of sadistic Christians are touring the countryside showcasing their pagan prisoners in a gruesome gladiatorial gambling game. Their star gladiator is ‘One Eye’ (Mads Mikkelson), who is tattooed to the max and with his left eye pulled out and grown over with skin. The match involves ‘One Eye’ forced to fight off two free opponents while tied with rope to a wooden stake. No matter what the challenge One Eye pummels and beats his opponents like rag dolls. Eventually One Eye escapes killing all his captors and seeks to return home.

Along with a young boy One Eye hook up with a group of Scottish crusaders looking to free the Holy Land. With nowhere to go One Eye and the kid tag along. The journey is long, slow, dreamy and violent. The faction eventually turn against each other when they realize their path has led them to some other land, instead of Jerusalem – a place where One Eye confronts his biggest challenge.

Sounds exciting, full of violent bloody fights, killing, and swordplay? Refn restricts his ability to entertain by handicapping himself severely. Chiefly, our hero ‘One Eye’ is rendered as a silent contemplative killer, a man of decision and action, like Mad Max or the harmonica man in ‘Once Upon a Time in the West’, but unfortunately without any dialogue whatsoever. Secondly Refn sets a pace not unlike ‘Once Upon A Time in the West’, but the absolute slowest moments in that film without Leone’s writing skills to pay off the silences.

What we get is a slothlike metaphysical journey through rain and fog, with characters talking and moving in slow motion. There’s so little going on that Refn in a couple scenes ramps up the volume of the ambient atmospheric soundtrack to build up to absolutely nothing. Refn also inexplicably divides the film into six chapters with bold titles like ‘Hell’, ‘Warrior’ or ‘The Saviour’ falsely implying some kind of narrative shift or change in tone. Nope, it’s a just continuation of slow panning shots of mountains and fog.

The film builds to a reveal which, considering the terrain they were traversing makes no logical sense whatsoever, yet I still guessed it. Even with a third act twist Refn dulls any dramatic effect by slowing things down and refusing to throw us any kind of bone.

‘Vahalla Rising’ is a complete and utter waste of time and money.

TIFF 2009: Nymph

Nymph (2009) dir. Pen-Ek Ratanaruang
Starring: Jayanama Nopachai, Wanida Termthanaporn, Chamanun Wanwinwatsara

**

If Terrence Malick made a horror film this would probably be it - a moody Thai nature creeper about a metaphysical connection between a haunted forest and our human frailties - a film which teases us with traditional genre scare tactics but ultimately delivers only on it’s artistic and, thus, frustrating oblique tendencies.

Director Pen-Ek Ratanaruang tells us what kind of film we’re in for with his grandiose long take opening shot. He puts us in a Thai forest following a young girl pursued and ultimately raped by two young boys. The camera, which at first appears to be an observer, wanders through the forest with a human point of view, but when it cranes up into the air looking down on the two rapists now dead in a river we know there’s something ghostly at play. The shot lasts minutes and establishes a slow, languid pace and moody voyeuristic tone which becomes the language of the film.

Our hero is young May (Wanida Termthanaporn), a journalist who lives with her husband Nop (Jayanama Nopachai), a still photographer. Their ‘vacation’ happens to be that really creepy spirit-inhabited forest. Their vacation involves camping and walking around admiring the surreal architecture of the trees. Nop seems especially obsessed with one particular tree, a snaking Dali-like piece of organic art. Before long Nop disappears, leaving May alone in the jungle. Where did he go? Possessed by the forest? Why?

We’re appear to be in the cinema of minimalism here with very little happening in between the two or three distinct story beats, and so the picture pushes our patience to the max.

It’s all ambient noises and wandering camera moves until the 30mins mark when Nop is abducted. Ratanaruang doesn’t tell us much but when he reveals May’s extramarital affair with her boss, the film finally gives us some explanation to the near 45mins of obtuse build up. The pacing is so deliberate creating a strong sense of cerebral dread we desperately want the film to pay off and shock us into submission.

In a film festival like this there’s a point when we have to make a decision to stay or leave a film, especially when there’s 2 or 3 other films you could be seeing. The spirit of the forest, whether that’s Nymph or not, compels you to stay, the same spirit which entrances Nop slowly seeps into the audience. Ratanaruang does it all with sound, it’s a remarkable and complex design, echoing that Malick’s moodiness and David Lynch/Alan Splet’s horrific noises. The sounds of the jungle merge with the artificial ambient music and other weird ingredients, which blankets the entire film.

Visually, it’s mostly observational handheld work with a smattering of formal compositions. Ratanaruang manages to craft a number of impressive suspenseful moments, the most terrifying being the nighttime forest scenes which bring to mind the terror of darkness and absence of life which made ‘The Blair Witch Project’ so effective.

Unfortunately Ratanaruang keeps it all much to obtuse to make it a truly satisfying picture. The mixture of art and horror leaves us worn and torn and wanting more.

TIFF 2009: The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassis

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus (2009) Dir. Terry Gilliam
Starring: Christopher Plummer, Lily Cole, Tom Waits, Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp, Jude Law, Colin Farrell and Verne Troyer.

*1/2

Guest Review by Greg Klymkiw

Like most viewers, I am both cursed and blessed with a continued and confused love-hate-indifferent relationship with the mad visionary filmmaker Terry Gilliam. From his first exposure to the world as the animator of the surrealist interstitials within the legendary BBC sketch comedy “Monty Python’s Flying Circus”, through his ups (“Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas”, “Twelve Monkeys”, “Time Bandits”, “Monty Python and the Holy Grail”), downs (“Brazil”, “The Adventures of Baron Munchausen”, “The Meaning of Life”, “Tideland”) and in-betweens (“The Brothers Grimm”, “The Fisher King”, “Jabberwocky”), I look forward to each new picture with an uneasy mixture of anticipation, apathy and dread. This, of course, is not a bad thing. It’s his ability to continually get projects off the ground that defy all odds and instil such a wide range of emotions that finally entrench his place in the world as an artist who continues to make the world a better place to live in. In spite of this position of consummate artistry, “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus” is a picture that falls short of in-between status. It’s not quite as low on the totem pole as “Tideland”, but save for a mere handful of saving graces; it’s pretty much unwatchable as it is inconsequential.

As a simple morality tale layered with images of occasionally astounding beauty, the picture is not without some dollops of merit, but as a simple morality tale that has any real entertainment value, a compelling narrative, a forward drive that urges us to stay with it, an audacious aesthetic that dazzles and provokes us, “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus” is sorely lacking. It is, in a sense, about as dead as its dear-departed supporting player, Heath Ledger.

The rather unexceptional, though vaguely serviceable narrative has the title character (Christopher Plummer) presiding over an old style travelling show – not unlike what might have appeared in travelling carnivals in days gone by – where dressed in Swami-like garb and accompanied by his daughter and assistant Valentina (the eye candy that is Lily Cole), Parnassus gives audiences a chance to choose between an experience of great beauty and one of utter darkness. Mr. Nick (Tom Waits), AKA the devil, appears to remind Parnassus that he will soon be claiming Lily on her 16th birthday as per their ages-old bargain which bestowed immortality and eternal youth upon Parnassus. Always willing to consider new wagers, Mr. Nick agrees that the winner of Lily will be whoever manages to first enlist five souls and for his part, Parnassus promises Lily’s hand in marriage to whoever helps him achieve his goal successfully.

Enter the late Heath Ledger as Tony, a young man who is rescued by the Parnassus team from the end of a mysterious noose that appears strung over a bridge. Tony is the eventual Prince Charming who will come to the rescue. However, as everyone knows by now, Ledger tragically died during a brief hiatus from the filming with only a portion of his role in the can. Here is where I tip my hat to Gilliam. His solution was an inspired rewrite and to ask Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell to play the role of Tony in the three dream worlds that had yet to be filmed. A brilliant solution and it is a marvel to see how it plays out (all three are remarkably charming – even more so than Ledger himself). Alas, we are only blown away because we KNOW about the challenges Gilliam faced in order to save the film. In fact, he does make the movie marginally better because of it, but if one considers the narrative itself and imagines Ledger living to complete the whole thing, all one is left with finally, is a trite and unevenly paced morality tale. A tired, sad excuse of a movie with only flashes of what Gilliam can do when he is working at the peak of his powers.

For me, Gilliam is at his best when the narrative completely demands an alternate reality rooted strongly in character. This is why “Twelve Monkeys” and “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” are such relentlessly brilliant, disturbing and hilarious visionary works and why many of the others are total wank jobs. “Brazil”, for example, is a movie bereft of character and one I tried to sit through over its entire life as a film about twenty times. When I practically nailed my feet to the floor to sit all the way through the director’s cut of “Brazil” on laserdisc, the experience was as painful to me as an attack of kidney stones I had some years before. “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus”, however, does not even inspire the kind of hatred I felt towards “Brazil” which at least is an extreme emotion and one that contrasts my utter indifference towards the new picture.

There are, as previously mentioned, some meagre pleasures to be had in Gilliam’s film. The stand-ins for Heath are all wonderful, but again, I also wonder if my goodwill towards their performances has something to do with the knowledge that all three of them bestowed their considerable fees upon Ledger’s daughter as a trust fund to contribute to her well being as she grows to adulthood. Christopher Plummer is, as always, in good form, but I almost wish he’d been far less restrained than he is – especially given the flamboyance of the role. In fact, the movie might have benefited from an all-out Plummer special hambone-deluxe as he provided in “Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country” where he played the evil, Shakespeare-spouting Klingon villain General Chang. That said: Plummer’s occasional verbal sparring with Tom Waits in “Parnassus” is moderately engaging.

Sadly, and in conclusion, it’s the tragedy of Heath Ledger’s death that makes “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus” at all watchable, but without this knowledge, the picture simply doesn’t have enough going for it to stand up on its own two legs. A pity.

“The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus” is playing at the 2009 edition of the Toronto International Film Festival and will be theatrically released post-festival by E1 Films.

TIFF 2009: Un Prophete

Un Prophete (2009) dir. Jacques Audiard
Starring: Tahar Rahim, Niels Arestrup, Adel Bencherif, Hichem Yacoubi

****

Audiard’s latest feature is a muscular cinematic tour de force, which could, with time, rank itself near ‘Goodfellas’, ‘Heat’ and ‘City of God’ as undeniable and supremely entertaining and inspiring crime epic masterpieces.

Audiard throws us into a French prison with his young hero, Malik, who’s in for 6 years for assaulting a cop. Since he’s turned 19 he’s been moved from juvie to the big boys. Of course, he’s shy and awkward, but not afraid to stand up and show his toughness to the fellow prisoners. Since he’s Muslim he’s put in B- Block with others of his faith. On the other side are the Corsicans, French of Italian descent, who through their organized connections on the outside are the kings of the joint. Malik becomes ingratiated with the local boss Cesar Luciani when he’s forced into doing a hit on a fellow inmate.

Slowly we watch Malik play with the politics of the prison yard, playing both sides of the racial divide. When Malik is granted periodic day passes of leave, he elevates his influence outside the walls into his own empire of organized crime, eventually overtaking the once feared Luciani.

Tahar Rahim, as Malik, inhabits the skin of Malik. From the first scene, which brings him into the adult prison, we believe in Malik, and sympathize with him. There’s a distinct acknowledgement of Hollywood gangster history as Audiard chart’s Malik’s journey from young nave to sophisticated gangster. He’s part Michael Corleone, part Henry Hill, and through every step of the way Audiard is in Malik’s eyes and ears. Every moment of pause and reflection is dramatized with precision. Malik’s first hit on a fellow Muslim, who genuinely cares for Malik’s well being, is an intense and suspense sequence. We watch as Malik practices placing a razor blade in his mouth, and then removing it quickly to strike at his opponent - a scene, which, throughout the film, lingers in Malik’s memory often haunting him in moments of doubt. The plotting of the gangster politics is complex, and it takes a careful ear to catch everyone’s movements and motivations, but since Audiard never leaves Malik he’s a rock solid emotional base to which he always returns.

It’s prison life here and so it’s the world of men only. Audiard thankfully doesn’t even attempt to engineer a love story or any other attempts at redemption or escape from his life. For Audiard, Malik and thus, us, the audience it’s a struggle survival at every turn.

Thankfully we’re also saved from another social realism treatment of the subject. Unlike the over praised ‘Gomorrah’ Audiard mixes his prison grittiness with an assured cinematic flare. Freeze frame intertitles which tell us who the characters are, and introduce specific chapters of the story, serve no other purpose than for style; Audiard shows us a number of arty subjective dream sequences revealing Malik’s self-doubt; and a number of carefully placed but not overused songs add the right amount of pop culture anchoring as well. Unfortunately an opportunity to send the film into the stratosphere is missed with an ill-chosen ironic Mac the Knife cover by Jimmie Dale Gilmour, which takes the film into the credits. I couldn’t help but think of the effectiveness of Sid Vicious’ ‘My Way’ or Moby’s grandiloquent piano outro from ‘Heat’ or ELO’s ‘Living Thing’ from ‘Boogie Nights’, which ended those films with authority. ‘Un Prophet’ unfortunately goes out with a wink instead of a bang.

Oh well, its not enough to reduce the power of Audiard’s crime masterpiece. Look out for “Un Prophet”, as a foreign language film, to possibly make a rare dent into North American theatres.