Reviews

I want to join "nkleinberg" in singling out this standout episode of a deservedly successful franchise. After a lifetime of noirs and WWII films, I find this satire of those delicious.

I can't get enough of the irrepressible Ms. Vuillemin. (Too bad her work is so scarce in the Anglophone world.) Her character is somewhere between Astrid and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo--with haute couture added in.

Too infrequently do filmmakers make the best use of collector cars. In this episode, the commendably authentic four-wheeled co-star is a 1938 Citroën Traction Avant 11 B. (A similar looking larger version was produced thru 1957. That could have been palmed off by less discriminating filmmakers.)

I'll admit that I come to this film from an unusual angle. I am almost old enough to be the parent of the new retirees in the film. I spent a season in Zürich, and hadn't heard Schwizerdütsch in ages. The heart and gentleness of the comedy reminds me of Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau in another day. In our day, prosperity and long life expectancy make third and fourth acts exciting and daunting additions to our reality. The four main characters never saw that coming. They earn our respect even while we are having some laughs at their expense. "Life is a detour" is a remark made by a minor character. That would have been a better title for this film. It has something significant to say. It deserves an audience.

This film may have been inspired by Trump's "American Carnage" inaugural speech. A third-term POTUS has abolished the FBI, and presumably other Constitutional checks, balances and guardrails. Itinerant militias roam the countryside, indiscriminately torturing and murdering anyone who is not "their kind of American." The best equipped and most powerful such militia is from California: it eventually gives Washington DC quite a beating. A couple of female photojournalists run along with the combatants, presumably to give the film female empowerment cred. I'm sorry to have seen all that lurid carnage and sadism. I wish I could un-see it. I suppose the film might give some January 6 types pause, about agitating so vigorously as to bring about events like those in this film. Otherwise, I found it entirely gratuitous, and devoid of redeeming commentary value.

Hardly anyone else has commented on how this film is of a piece with the other current best foreign film nominee, Anatomie d'une chute (2023). European Union countries have supposedly non-adversarial justice systems. "Beyond a reasonable doubt" is not an ingrained part of the culture, as it is in anglophone countries. Both films involve well-meaning people whose clumsiness at making an accusation of a crime sets a cascade of unintended consequences in motion. Both have gradeschool boys browbeaten to substantiate accusations against their mothers and who resist it with unrealistic valor. Hopefully, someone on this board who lives in that milieu will explain it to us statesiders.

As filmcraft, Zone... really worked for me. I felt like a fly on the wall in the inner sanctums of the SS KZ Command ca. '43--seeing as if through a wide angle lens, but with supersensitive hearing, overhearing too much. Awards for sound design might well be in order. Cf. Killers of the Flower Moon, where there is not enough sound to go with the vividly presented 1920s cars and steam railroading: the Model Ts and Chevys gliding silently along like Teslas made that film feel incomplete and unfinished to me.

Zone... succeeds less well as a history lesson. Its main idea is "banality of evil." In 1960, Adolf Eichmann was kidnapped in Buenos Aires by the Mossad, and put on trial in Israel. People were mostly impressed with Eichmann's unimpressiveness. The leading account is Hannah Arendt's EICHMANN IN JERUSALEM. He came off as a plain, inarticulate, incongruously normal little man. The phrase, "banality of evil" came to stand for it.

It has mostly been forgotten that the mission was intended to capture Eichmann and Dr. Josef Mengele together. But Mengele dropped out of sight, to surface later in Brazil. He was never brought to justice, and drowned accidentally off a gorgeous Brazilian beach while vacationing in 1979. Because he exhibited essential elements that Eichmann lacked--perversion of a privileged, cultured upbringing as well as science and medicine--he ought to have been the man on trial in the glass booth. Had that succeeded, we would have heard far less about "banality of evil" down through the years.

What became of the Höss family after liberation is a more interesting story--and could be a better film--than Zone.... Like many of his colleagues, Rudolf Höss hid out as a farm laborer under an assumed name. Under interrogation, Hedwig blew his cover, and he was captured. In custody, he wrote a detailed, eerily matter-of-fact memoir, which was used to prosecute others. (It was translated into English and published stateside much later by friends of mine.) Rudolf recanted his Nazi beliefs and was forthrightly contrite, up to his hanging at Auschwitz in '47. His actions probably bought his family some leniency. Rudolf had been brought up devoutly Catholic, and had evaded family aspirations for him to become a priest. Surely, he could have availed himself of the same priest network that trafficked Eichmann and Mengele to South America. Did he think to qualify for absolution? There was a curious undertone of decency in his conduct, fairly atypical of major Nazis.

Daughter Brigitte became a successful fashion model, married an American, and lived in Washington DC. In her later years, she held good retail ladies wear jobs. On a visit to her there, Hedwig passed away in 1989. 'Stranger than fiction?

I recall this episode from its original airing. Last night I saw Anatomie d'une chute (2023). Like this episode, it involves an eleven-year-old special needs child, whose music making furnishes some of the film's music from within the frame. It recalled the song, "Never Come Sunday" to me.

That film, as well, centers on a marriage profoundly wounded by a child's crippling injury. In this episode, it is plainly stated that the cause of "mental retardation" is being championed. In the new film, a blistering critique of criminal justice and child welfare in France is set out--but totally misunderstood by anglophone viewers. I hope at some point, to find out how the influence came about.

There must be a lot of people like me who were unaware of W. E. when it was current, to whom it now comes as a surprise or like a practical joke. Like the singing of Florence Foster Jenkins or Tiny Tim, it is so bad and tasteless that it is good. On the small screen in the time of Charles III, whatever harm there may ever have been has lapsed.

What we are told of the abdication story must surely be part of a larger still-secret drama of "deep state" actors maneuvering the traitor king, possibly preparing to become Hitler's puppet ruler of occupied England, to the sidelines. There must have been no end of "kompromat" about such an arch-jerk as David Windsor, to get that done.

Even in a film so well produced as this, I lament film makers using the wrong period cars. If nothing else, David was a lover of straight-eight Buick Centuries. Lacking any of those, this film is incomplete!

The star's write up in the current New Yorker Magazine led me to this film. With all the predictable, derivative fare these days, it is a welcome relief. I lament all the panning user reviews, entirely missing the point.

Charlotte the brilliant research physician reminds one of the Good Doctor and Astrid Neilsen in her extraordinary professional abilities. But unlike them, she passes for neurotypical. Her relationship with her pre-school-age son is normal as apple pie.

The linguistic fragmentation of her daily life portends what will happen. She is German. She is married to an American. English is spoken at home and at work. Official stuff in Brussels is in French. The language of the streets is Flemish.

She has a crack-up, taking the form of sexual acting out with unattractive, Flemish-speaking men. The lurid sex scenes make the sheer perverseness vivid. She has encountered ugly bodies alive and dead in her time, after all. The sex is much like the drinking in Days of Wine and Roses (1962). Only if those scenes are misunderstood out of context can one think this is mere soft-core porn.

Against all odds, her husband stands by her as the repercussions blow back. Perhaps he would not have done so, had she not been such a good lay. The moral of the story? When someone in your life experiences a crack-up, the right thing to do is be there for him/her.

While recovering, she gives birth to twins. The symbolism cannot get heavier-handed than that!

I think this film stands on the shoulders of Repulsion (1965) and Belle de jour (1967).

This is the least satisfying of the 3 big films by veteran directors dominating Fall '23. While the sheer visual scale worked for me in the XD theater, I think this will be unwatchable on home screens. Without rather detailed knowledge of European History, one cannot follow the story very well.

The weakest link is Phoenix's portrayal of Bonaparte. Imagine Harvey Keitel attempting to portray him.

Bonaparte's self-caricaturesque persona does make him hard to portray. Film makers have generally steered clear of the biopic form for him. He shows up in films about the historical events involving him. The only one I have found memorable is Marlon Brando in Désirée (1954). Come to think of it, the two films taken together provide a fairly passable overview of Bonaparte the man.

Could the film be suggesting that Trump @ Mar-a-Lago is a recapitulation of Bonaparte @ Elba?

At a minimum, this is a visually gorgeous film, rich in period detail. If you are able to sit for 3½ hours, by all means do see it that way. That includes the broad assortment of 1920s cars. I complain often about wrong cars in films. If anything, these highly authentic ones are a bit too well kept up. Cars got old and shabby rapidly in those days. But--apparently the sound designers did not get the memo. That day's rich palette of transportation sounds is all but ignored. Model Ts and Chevys are shown silently gliding along like Teslas. To carry on a conversation while underway in that pre-WWI Model T, Molly and Ernest would at least have had to raise their voices. By the way, Mr. Scorsese, thank you for calling out those wonderful Pierce-Arrows. Those were really something!

A few minutes in, I thought of the Reaganism, "The most terrifying words in the English language are: 'I'm from the government and I'm here to help.'" Junior and Hen are an appealing married couple holding their own running an agribusiness in the mid-west under the stupendously adverse conditions of the year 2065. A man from the far-off government arrives in a nifty car, and makes them an offer they can't refuse. Junior is to be rocketed into outer space, and an inferior clone of him will keep Hen company while he is gone. Whereupon their lives are slowly and agonizingly torn to pieces. Alas, I did not find it far-fetched or a cheap shot at all.

This is entirely a Saoirse Ronan vehicle--as dissimilar from See How They Run as it can be--although each film has a male lead giving a deft, understated essentially supporting performance. I did not find the rather prominent sex scenes gratuitous or patronizing.

There are surprises in the last 20 minutes that might easily be missed. I look forward to seeing this again.

As I first watched this film, it occurred to me how disparate the bad news for the wellbeing of women is in our world. That wellbeing is under attack by the Iranian government, the Russian government, the Taliban, SCOTUS, and the Religious Right, to name just a few. I felt privileged to be let in on the eloquent cri de coeur of these women.

Their extreme plight is of a piece with Handmaid's Tale. Of course it resonates, but ultimately, the argument is undermined by overstatement. Setting the scene in North America stretches things too far. Without the extreme isolation of the Plattdeutsch speaking colony in Bolivia, what happened becomes incomprehensible. Contemporary "plain people" Anabaptists in North America deserve better than to be tarred with that broad brush. Anywhere in North America, the guard rails would surely have held.

I made the acquaintance of a language professor, whose study of the "Pennsylvania Dutch" language led to his becoming a mediator with the outside world for various "Plain People" communities in Pennsylvania and the mid-west. He portrayed a nuanced, decent, often beautiful way of life that maintains an equilibrium by the Rumspringa, a process of each young adult deciding whether or not to commit to the "plain" life. To the young people who do take it on, mainstream life seems noisy and distasteful. I have come to understand the deeply rooted Anabaptist sects of North America as fundamentally different from all the genuinely repressive, retrograde cults and sects of more recent origin they may superficially resemble. I take great exception to any claim that horror stories in them are typical, representative, or more prevalent than in mainstream society.

The scenic design has unquestionably been influenced by the Hutterite colony in 49th Parallel (1941)--but with much more Tobacco Road than one could find today. Real "plain" women would never be so badly dressed or look so scruffy, as those in the film do. That is a bum rap!

It has been many months since I came across a new film as satisfying as this one. The unusual device of seeding a big-budget costume drama with anachronisms to signal that something applicable across time is being communicated does alas lend itself to misunderstanding. It is good enough for this to be merely a vehicle for Ms. Krieps. That being a woman is complicated no matter the time period or the circumstances is enough for a premise.

To best be able to enjoy Corsage, I recommend finding out as little as possible about its many surprises in advance. But I do recommend finding out about the pertinent history and people, and in particular, to see the old Sissi films with Romy Schneider. This film is intended for German speakers, after all. I can easily imagine the two renditions of Empress Elizabeth as the same personality at different points in her life.

Hint: the secondary dictionary meaning of "corsage" is intended.

I approached this film well aware that the auteur who made it is very old--the same age as I. At our age, various pleasures lose their savor. Beneath all the pseudobiology claptrap, that is all this film is about. Does it portray the few survivors of some mass extinction catastrophe? Who knows?

I made the acquaintance of a language professor, whose study of the "Pennsylvania Dutch" language led to his becoming a mediator with the outside world for various Amish communities in Pennsylvania and the mid-west. He portrayed a nuanced, decent, often beautiful way of life that maintains an equilibrium by the Rumspringa, a process of each young adult deciding whether or not to commit to the "plain" life. To the young people who do take it on, mainstream life seems noisy and distasteful. I have come to understand the Amish as fundamentally different from all the genuinely repressive, retrograde cults and sects they superficially resemble. I have no doubt that the individual horror stories in the series are authentic. But I take great exception to any claim that they are typical, representative, or more prevalent than in mainstream society. That is a bum rap!

This is a significant, even groundbreaking film, deserving a far better reception than it is getting. It does start slowly, and seems to ride the coattails of Downton Abbey too much. It starts so slowly because it builds its narrative up from a host of tiny details--many of them tactile. The technique is reminiscent of van Gogh or Proust. It arrives at a very complete, coherent result. I am at pains to find anything out of place. The deft use of very tight closeups might go unnoticed on a small screen.

There is nothing gratuitous or exploitive about the nudity and sex. Jane and Paul are all too precisely defined by their clothing. That is why they like being undressed so much.

The theme of that day was, indeed, bereavement. The odds of surviving the war, the flu, and those death-trap cars were poor. Mr. Niven drives with Jane in a viciously overpowered Bentley--like the one in which Matthew Crawley was killed. We don't get to see Paul's death car up close. Let us never forget Isadora Duncan! Survival allowed Jane to win a bunch of literary prizes: cold comfort to her.

(I was especially glad to see Sope Dirisu--of Humans (2015) fame--find a meaty role.)

This is not a Noomi Rapace vehicle. Instead, she fits into the ensemble seamlessly. And even though there are some lambs in it, it does not resemble Dýrið (2021). Granting credence to the witchcraft and magic stuff does something way beyond delivering a cheap thrill: it puts the viewer into the mindset of that dark ages Serbian village. Those people would have been dead certain that they saw fingernails become claws, or mistaken a woman badly burned in a bungled witch-burning for a spectral being. The tools and textiles of that pre-pre-industrial village are exquisitely authentic. All this is well worth the candle--even if those villagers did not have candles. The only film I think it compares with is La guerre du feu (1981).

Impeccable as the filmcraft in all these is, their unrelieved pessimism makes them a chore to sit through. Their common theme is that gangsterism in some form always prevails in the end. Even the well deserved knock on the prison-industrial complex in "Please Hold" beats the horse long after it has died. Thank you for nothing!

Admittedly, my admiration for Jennifer Beals inclines me toward finding this film a discovery worth watching and no waste of time. It has a delicious hommage.to Rififi. Beals plays a preternatural criminal genius resembling Michelle Dockery in Good Behavior, and no less well. In the early years, it seems that the powers that be had no idea what to do with Beals. It delighted me to see her get enough to work with at last, in The L Word. It brought Joel 2:25 to mind.

After rediscovering Room at the Top (1958) and discovering Life at the Top (1965), the excellent, underappreciated sequel, this fairly recent remake piqued my curiosity. It is nothing if not well acted, and the different take on each character did interest me. But the message of the original films and books is stood on its head. Those were biting social commentary. This remake is mere soap opera.

In the original film's ending, Joe and Susan leave the church after their wedding, chauffeured in a custom Rolls-Royce fit for royalty. But Joe is already getting restless, visibly tiring of Susan's stupid chatter. Joe's future stir-craziness, coming in the sequel, is clearly foreshadowed. In the latter film, the strongest actor is Jenna Coleman, who is incapable of the blandness the character of Susan calls for. Joe warms to her so well, that this is transformed into a tale of happily ever after. Meh!

As a car guy, I appreciate the film's four-wheeled star. Somehow, the Aisgills have a gorgeous, 1936 Crossley Regis Six. It does suit the scenic design to a tee.

Anyone unfamiliar with the larger career arc of Yimou Zhang can be excused for underestimating this heartfelt film. If it is not a masterpiece, then it is at least a worthy example from a master. It is, of course, a takeoff on Nuovo Cinema Paradiso (1988). I infer that this film is vastly truer to Cultural Revolution China than that one was to early post-WWII Italy. I think it rings true. I hope that someone who was there "in the day" will comment.

There have been some great sci-fi films, where sophisticated androids produced as household appliances become self-aware. They are superior to their no longer needed human creators, and eventually replace them, the way Homo Sapiens replaced Neanderthals. My favorite is the English TV series, Humans (2015).

The influence of that TV series is very obvious in this film. But a very different and less serious-minded tack is taken. An uptight professional woman finds herself beta-testing an android custom designed to be a perfectly pleasing lover for her. He is a cross between Matthew Crawley of Downton Abby, and Gigolo Joe in AI. This is a rom-com with contrasts more extreme than a conventional plot could furnish. But just this once, the wonderful chemistry of the two stars makes it work marvelously.

This would be a good candidate for an English language remake. Please, Hollywood, use the same two stars to do it, even if you transplant the story to Southern California. Remember what happened when they made My Fair Lady without Julie Andrews, and remade The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, without Noomi Rapace.

The English title aroused the expectation that Leonard Cohen's eponymous song would be used. It would have been apropos--as "Just a Gigolo" might also have been. "I'm your guy" would have been a better translation of the gender-nonspecific German title.

If this is not a masterpiece in the Ingmar Bergman Nordic tradition, then it is at least far better than the early reception it is getting. Because the surprises are so delicious, do avoid spoilers, including the ones found on this page. Ms. Rapace does many more interesting things than the butt-kicking she is famous for. She even has an unexpectedly powerful married love sex scene. It all might be too eccentric to get the awards consideration it deserves.