shanbhattacharya_

Ghost Walk or "The Door of the Night Opens" is a slow-burning, moody piece of fantasy that's rooted to modern-day issues like urban alienation and unfulfilled personal dreams in a capitalist age. Hae-in Han efficiently plays the apathetic, depressed, loner protagonist who becomes an invisible, wandering ghost after her death. She finds out that although in life she tried to maintain a lonely existence disconnected from others, her death on the other hand is but a piece of a larger social phenomenon. First-time director Yu Eun-jeong did a commendable job building a quiet, contemplative atmosphere. Almost nothing in this film - cinematography, music, pacing - tries to impose itself, but they effectively add substance to the storytelling. The first-person narration sometimes feels patchy - too introspective in some places or too barren, generic in some others. The final act, although predictable, does well enough to establish itself as a piece of serious cinema, and not some emotional tearjerker that films with similar plotlines often turn into.

'Sarajin shigan' (boringly retitled in English as 'Me and Me') has one of the most innovative and original plot threads I have encountered this year. To know anything about the film's plot beforehand, apart from what's written in the logline, will seriously diminish the joy of discovering the story's bold, unpredictable turns. The genre treatment is very refreshing too, since this is one of those movies that do not fall in any particular category. The basic premise is a rather supernatural fantasy, but the course of events tend to run like a satirical social drama, and there's always an air of mystery hanging in the atmosphere. And intriguingly, the film manages to knit all these together into a compelling narrative - a very praiseworthy job. But truth be told, maybe in the hands of a more experienced writer/director these ideas would have flourished to their full potential. There are a few instances where the scope of the narrative and plot threads run beyond the grasp of the director, resulting in some relatively weaker, confusing scenes, especially towards the end. Also, all the actors did great to turn this rather outlandish story extremely convincing.

A current trend among Korean films is to pick up plot elements from established genre structures (like horror, thriller, sci-fi) and remodel them into a completely different genre of filmmaking, thus conveying sociopolitical standpoints by subverting their origins. This film should rightfully be placed along with the best examples of that trend, for its ingenuity, if only its narrative craft were as good.

Famed writer Banana Yoshimoto's original novel 'Goodbye Tsugumi' is a light, fun read. However, in terms of depth and character development, compared to her other, more acclaimed works like 'Kitchen' or 'Asleep', it falls short. Jun Ichikawa's screenplay, though starting off as a line-by-line adaptation, eventually takes some liberties. Some smaller story arcs are dropped and a major character is altered from a schoolboy to a grown man, resulting in subsequent alterations in the storyline. In my opinion, these changes elevated the story, got rid of its excesses and made the titular character more enigmatic but strangely palpable. Riho Makise's portrayal of this complex character is nothing short of amazing. She brilliantly pulls off the polar opposite traits of the character - vulnerable but headstrong, mischievous yet empathic, spoilt yet stoic. Tomoko Nakajima has also delivered a measured, capable performance as the narrator character.

The pacing of the film is somewhat uneven. It spends too little time on building the premise and catching up with the present, resulting in some early confusion. Similarly, the final 20 minutes drawing to the conclusion is inexplicably rushed, completely ruining the slow, charming middle bulk of the film. I suspect this is because of some studio decision to wrap the story under 2 hours. The rest of the film - the beautiful locations, the cinematography, the costumes, the art direction are all superb, as one expects nothing less anyway.

Chinese director Yuan Qing's first feature film '3 Adventures of Brooke' is a three-part fairytale-like parable, set in the beautiful Malaysian coast city of Alor Setar, starring Xu Fangyi as the titular character, a Chinese tourist. Each of the three stories begin with her bicycle tire being punctured while riding through the countryside, and her subsequent meeting with three different groups of strangers. Although the screenplay often veers dangerously close to being a tourist attraction guide of the area, it has a certain charming, light, conversational, Rohmer-esque quality, with occasional flashes of deep, insightful brilliance and unpredictable detours. The first story is a comedy of errors with a slight moralist touch, where she encounters a friendly local woman. In the second story, a minimal, slightly more serious drama, she meets a group of young men determined to turn the city into a more modern, economic, upscale tourist hub. The third story, decidedly the film's centrepiece, deals with her meeting an old French writer (played by Pascal Greggory) and taking a strangely romantic journey with him, while engaging in profound conversations about life, love and the universe.

Among the three pieces, I found the last segment a bit preachy and self-indulgent, albeit being more direct and romantic. The apparently aimless minimalism and the slick underhandedness of the first two stories disappear in this, as the director tries to make a definite point, and the script falters at places. The actors do a very god job though, in all the segments. The cinematography is bright and cheerful, in keeping with the theme of light fantasy. Overall, this exercise of weaving three stories out of a simple inane event holds good even in this uneven result. [6.5/10]

There is a languid, dreamlike quality that persists in much of 'The Disciple', accentuated by the recurring use of 'tanpura' drone in the background and scenes of the protagonist riding his motorcycle through empty nighttime Mumbai in slow motion. They manage to reinforce a detached state of mind, both for the viewer and for the protagonist. Factually, the film may deal with a specific subgenre of Indian Classical vocal music (a subject I am not versed in, at all), but the observations made so acutely and the opinions expressed so eloquently have a tremendous universal relatability. And not just classical music, they hold true for any pure art form, be it pottery or printmaking. The film is overall a character study spanning three stages in the protagonist's life as he fights hard to prevent himself from being engulfed by social obligations and invariable complications of urban living - like fame, sustainability, professional jealousy, ego - that go against the teachings of his old, reclusive mentor, who is a pure practitioner of the craft. Most efficiently written, acted, crafted, paced - a definitely wholesome film.

Shin'ichi Nakada's movies are mostly wholesome family entertainment with some educational purpose, meant for young people. 'Cats of Park Avenue' has a charming premise - a group of young dancers preparing for an upcoming dance musical based on a bunch of neighborhood cats, while the said cats watch them and occasionally intrude into their lives. The narrative does a lot to establish the world of cats as an independent society cohabiting the urban spaces of streets, alleys, buildings and terraces with their human counterparts; and assigns the cats with human character traits as the reverse becomes the story's backbone. Soon enough, the human and feline characters begin to watch each other. Ingenious as this all may be, the story soon begins to plod, as there is not much one can do within the restraint of a child-friendly content. Human relationships are intense and complex, and to explore that through the shared perspective of urban stray animals is an idea that requires more in-depth serious speculation. Instead we are presented with mildly pleasant situational comedies and occasional smart lines.

Veteran screenwriter Haruhiko Arai has written for over 50 feature films in his prolific 50-year career, the earliest of which are pinku eiga directed by Koji Wakamatsu. 'Kakou no futari' is Arai's only third film where he also is the director. With this, Arai visits some of his roman porno roots. There is nothing really 'special' or innovative about the setting. Two 30-something erstwhile lovers catch up after years, on the eve of the woman's wedding, and give in to rekindle their passion. They eat, talk about philosophy, reminisce about their past, pychoanalyze themselves and have a lot of sex. The treatment is very understated, under-dramatized, minimal. Through the course of the film, the viewer is presented with a few key information about their past that may alter their judgement on the characters' actions. In films like this, the chemistry and performative quality of the actors turn out to be the most defining element. Both Kumi Takiuchi and Tasuku Emoto did decently, but the passion they spoke so much about in the lines never really translated to the actions. The story of the film is set as an emotional aftermath of the 2011 tsunami and nuclear plant disaster, and it attempts to posit all this against the backdrop of another imminent natural disaster, but it never really exploits the full potential of that backdrop. It remains as nothing more than a mention, making the film ultimately forgettable.

Mani Kaul's adaptation of the Dostoevsky short story 'A Gentle Creature' is a rather literal one, starring his daughter Sambhavi in the titular role. It is a gloomy, slow-moving drama with elliptic but rather incongruous dialogue. I personally find Kaul's treatment of this material rather too heavy-handed - with all its useless silence, its suggestive music and its meandering camerawork. Still, there is a certain dreamy quality to this, thanks to a chilly cold plot being adapted into a warm tropical urban setting. Not one of Kaul's memorable works, but a curious addition to his filmography for sure.

In his third film, Guatemalan maverick director Jayro Bustamante has crafted a modern-day story in the backdrop of the 1982 genocide of indigenous Mayan population under dictator Efraín Ríos Montt's command. The story is of an ageing dictator (based on Montt) and his family of wife, daughter and granddaughter, that finally encounter people's wrath. Told from the viewpoint of the dictator's family members, it could have been a pretty straightforward political story of repercussions, atonement, justice and truth finally catching up. And there was enough scope in the story itself to do both -- firmly ascertain an anti-fascist political stance, and yet portray the dictator and his family with adequate empathy. But Bustamante chose to package this inside the popular mythological horror story of 'the weeping woman', exactly to achieve what - I am not too sure.

The film is beautifully shot, edited and acted. There was adequate suspense and thrill in the film's more horror-ish sequences. The blue-lit nighttime shots, tracking shots in the dark, long dark hair, overflow of water, long creepy stares, jump scares with increasing background sounds, candle-lit invocations of spirits -- all sorts of horror film cliches were used. Rather than adding anything to the story (apart from a bit increased viewership of some horror-film enthusiasts who would ultimately be disappointed), I personally felt that these kind of reduced the film into something less serious and less sincere. The film starts off excellently, but loses its focus after around an hour. To sustain its horror movie potential, the story needed some sort of unpredictability. But this is history, and we all know how histories of this nature finally turn out. There is no suspense in justice. One can only sensationalize it.

6.5/10

Taiwanese director Hsu Hsiao-ming's second feature is set during a critical time of the nation's sociopolitical history and retrospectively refers to the nation's most significant political incident of the later part of twentieth century - the Kaohsiung dissent. A young anarchist activist, protesting against the government during Taiwan's martial law era, got arrested for making bombs in relation to the Kaohsiung incident and sentenced for nearly a decade. As she gets released from jail during the early nineties, she finds herself in a more democratic, but capitalist Taipei, with her former comrades all settled in comfortable bourgeois existence. Her ongoing disillusionment with the present, embodied in her former political mentor and ex-lover, is shown simultaneously with dramatic flashbacks of her past as a young idealistic university student leading up to the incident. The transitions between the two times are crafted well. There is an ever-present sense of gloom in the film's narrative. From the opening sequence of the film, it only well downhill. The director masterfully kept things depressing, without being overtly melancholic or emotionally manipulative, and arrived at a somewhat glum, predictable turn of events. This may appear rather flat, or anticlimactic. But that also correctly portrays the 'illusion of choice' that the modern-era capitalist democracy inevitably represents. Vicky Wei is terrific in the protagonist's role. The colourful night-time cinematography is very tuned in with the story's urban helplessness. Too bad this film is only available in the format of a poorly transferred and poorly subtitled VCD. I hope this sees a better release someday soon.

Chun Woo-hee, whom I remember from the excellent 2013 social drama Han Gong-ju, stars in this melancholy urban romance as a young corporate office worker, hopelessly in love her unit boss. The cinematography is very crafty and coupled with slow-paced editing. A somber, whimsical mood persists throughout the film. I personally find Woo-hee a terrific actor and here also she is very adequate as a depressed, vulnerable young professional with a minor disability. The rest of the cast is, unsurprisingly, very decent. However, considering all this, the storyline is very unremarkable, cliched and ultimately, rather silly. I mean, all the themes that the writers wanted to touch upon here - namely the cutthroat corporate professional insecurity, the office politics, the social differences of class, urban existential loneliness, the millennial indecisiveness - all of these do not really culminate into anything remotely close to profound. Hence, all of that moody, heavy handed melancholic beauty of its photography, soundtrack and slow editing seem superfluous.

This is not exactly a tribute of famed pinku eiga filmmaker Koji Wakamatsu, rather a testimonial of his idealistic work ethic comprised of a sense of political urgency despite of minimal utilitarian production values. Although important historical figures of pinku eiga from late 1960s like Haruhiko Arai, Masao Adachi, Gaira Komizu (even Nagisa Oshima) freely inhabit the film, none of them, not even Wakamatsu himself, is the primary character. Rather, we are treated by the perspective of one Megumi Yoshizumi (played with much care by Mugi Kadowaki) - his young, unimportant, long-forgotten assistant director for a brief period. The film is as much a character study of Megumi as it is of the historical figures of Wakamatsu productions. Director Shiraishi's handling of this character is tender, acute. Just as he never tried to treat Wakamatsu's character (played rather unevenly by Arata) with any kind of hero worship, he wrote a layered character for Megumi, with both criticism and empathy. Interesting to note, that Shiraishi never attempted to transform the set or surroundings with accurate period detail to make them look like late 1960s. There is a beautiful idiosyncrasy between the characters' 1960s fashion, the contemporary neon-lit alleys of Tokyo and their accents. The film manages to reduce Wakamatsu from a respected towering cultural figure to a faltering human, and transcends its scope by providing a surprisingly profound statement about youth, life and what it means to 'work'.

Throughout the film, I kept having this feeling that it was a work of two very different people with opposite points of view. The premise and the storyline is by someone who clearly has critical yet empathic statements to make about youth, liberal capitalism, superficial acquaintanceship and information culture -presented in an interesting sort of coming-of-age angle. And then we have the director, whose decisions regarding cinematography, editing and sound/music clearly feel like coming from an opposite spectrum. Flashy, immature, shallow, cringe-inducing - a straight-up non-ironical embodiment of the culture that is being critiqued, complete with item dance numbers, colorful mixed media collages, extended slow-motion exploitative shots of nubile young bodies. There are (always have been) many Japanese directors who know how to critically show all of this stuff, without glorifying the very things they are being critical about. But this film is not one of them. There are, though, occasional moments where it almost feels like it is very close to reaching a balance, a sudden welcome shift of mood, but it never quite gets there. The performance of the cast is commendable, given that they were being directed by someone who clearly does not have enough maturity and experience.

Veteran actor Masao Kusakari (Masahiro Shinoda's 'Himiko', Kon Ichikawa's 'Virus') plays a pragmatic, empathetic psychiatrist in this thriller set in the peak urban utopia of pre-recession Japan of 1980s. Underneath the main storyline that consists of him taking an unhealthy interest in one of his patients with dangerous multiple-personality disorder, there runs a subtle undercurrent of discontent and disenchantment with the urban existence, although that becomes truly visible in the last act. There's also a light, gentle quality to this film, despite having a dash of gory violence and a few nice touches of psychological twists. As it happens in many japanese films, this one also does not have a single 'evil' character; rather during the course of the film, the audience is made to question the protagonist's male ego and obsession. Well-acted, visually crafty, well-told story. Quite recommended. I wish this gets released in Blu-ray.

Acclaimed Czech director and playwright Petr Zelenka's first film after 7 years of his successful 'The Karmazovs' is based on an important political event of early WW2, one that I, being a non-european, was not really aware of. However, historical accuracy is hardly important for good cinema and Zelenka's film precisely deals with how history comes to be perceived, and how much of that perception is politically inclined.

The film starts off with a simple satirical, somewhat absurd, comedy concerning an old parrot causing a minor scandal between Czech and French diplomatic relations by fanning an old dispute between the two nations -- a plotline witty enough to hold on its own. But this story abruptly ends after a while, and the audience come to know that the film they were watching remain unfinished. A behind-the-scenes documentary on the film begins. Now there, a most wonderful, subtle, profound, yet hilarious events begin to unfold.

Rather than depending on a comically absurd fictional plot to express his ideas on the interrelationship between two nations, Zelenka unravels a fascinating exercise by focusing on the interpersonal relationship within the film crew and the situational drawbacks they encounter during filming. It is wickedly intelligent. It speaks more about nationalism, national pragmatism, nature of international cooperation and contemporary perception of past historical events than the starting plotline could actually cover. This is one of those successful exercises of meta-cinema.

Two strangers of opposite nature meet on a train and strike up an unusual alliance - this time-tested formula generally goes wrong these days but can still be used well in the hands of a decent storyteller. It goes in favor of the film that writer-director Darijan Pejovski does not aspire to do too much out of this predictable, contrived story filled with plot holes. He simply tells it with enough conviction, focusing more on building the drama and the relationship between its two protagonists, throwing in just the required amount of feminist idealism and political pessimism to make the viewers overlook its other flaws. Few euro-glum film can ever work without actors that can decently play characters like a cold determined stiff-lip woman, a corrupt lecherous cop and a prostitute with a heart of gold. In this film as well, these roles were played convincingly enough. Oh, and the sweet, wise, drunk babuska character always works in any film. Forgettable, but while you're watching this film you won't feel you're wasting your time.

The Greek/French director Nikos Papatakis has not made too many films, and this one may be the closest he had ever reached towards cinematic mastery. An extremely radical political drama, this film chronicles the journey of the protagonist Galai (played with a certain maddening quality by Olga Karlatos), an actress of political torture B-movies made by her husband Hamdias. Now Hamdias is also secretly a anarchist revolutionary of the Palestinian Liberation Front, absent throughout the course of the film due to some underground operation, leaving Galai and his editor to finish his latest torture film and arrange a screening for distributors. Under this complex premise, Papatakis explores and criticizes the role of artists, intellectuals, filmmakers etc who take pride in calling their art 'revolutionary' while living under the safeguard of their bourgeoisie producers and patrons.

Exaggerated and talkative at places, one can easily understand the lack of love it received (just look at its modest rating itself) because of its anti-israel and its anti- 'white-liberator' stance. Having said that, one might argue that its brilliant final act is politically somewhat ambiguous. The film within this film (the torture film made by Hamdias) is harrowing enough to call for such dramatic expanse. A definitely difficult watch, understandably more so by the European audience, but extremely rewarding as you begin to identify with the opinions presented here.

This little korean-japanese co-production is a beautiful metafictional result of the director Kung-jae Jang's interpretation of what it actually is - a korean director making a film on location in a remote Japanese town. The first part of the feature, presented like a documentary, shows the perspective of the director, tagging his bilingual interpreter along various corners of the town where small threads of low-key stories are hiding. The second part, in colour, shows the film he ended up making - a light, minimal, deceptively simple yet curiously profound vacation romance between a korean tourist and a cheerful local from the town. Despite the apparent featherlight depth of the spoken dialogue, the film says much about the cultural and language barrier between neighboring nations, between people living in a metropolis and people in a small town, between the traditional and the modern. Its apparent aimlessness is its biggest strength, enabling its occasional wit to really shine. The actress who played the two very different lead characters - the interpreter in the first part and the tourist in the second - has done a terrific job.

If I can become really picky, I'd say that at times the structure and the editing give off an impression of it being little more than an intellectual exercise - exceptionally carried out nevertheless. But that's often what these films made out of nothing are.

The basic problem of this new 'twist platter' from director Paulo (who has made other celebrated plot twist -driven spanish thrillers) is not that the premise of the story is absolutely laughable and preposterous. In fact, a very entertaining and satirical campy thriller can be produced with this material. Instead, this film deals with it with extreme serious handling, emotional turmoil and one coincidence after another. It is a pity - the plot twists are clever but never leave the desired impact because the viewers can easily spot the film's fascination with unexplained coincidences. Coincidences are fine in a comedic material, but not in a movie that attempts to preach about family, loyalty, love, potential, ambition, politics - such heavy-handed topics in a straight face.

This little-known drama by director Roland Klick introduces a prototype working-class family in a drab German suburb during the post-Wirtschaftswunder dip. The relationships between neighbor families, between local schoolboys, between middle-aged father and teen daughter, between man and neighbor's wife - the relations that define social morals of a community - may seem exaggerated in some parts of the screenplay, but definitely a necessity in this particular story. The characters are well-written, especially the young protagonist's father, the neighbor's daughter and her drunk father. Klick's direction is minimal, utilitarian with a conscious avoidance of cinematic flair both in terms of visuals and soundtrack. And that enables the film's bleak, nihilistic, somewhat disturbing plotline flourish like a naturally-growing cactus in a desert. As the story unfolded, I was often reminded of Michael Haneke's 'Benny's Video' and indeed there are some similarities in the thematic content like juvenile jealousy and how far parents go to protect their children. Although this film happens in a more 'generic' setting, and lacks the social complexity of the Haneke title, a predictable yet very well-written ending definitely makes it memorable.

From the very beginning of the film the director makes it clear to the audience that this is a story of a place unfit for human habitation. A soviet-era forced labor settlement with perpetually dark extreme winter, heavy snow, industrial smoke, old crammy apartments make an excellent landscape for stunning photography. This film utilizes that opportunity to its full extent. More than half of the film's running time is comprised of well-composed static slow-paced shots of melancholy winter landscape of snow, smoke, trains, grey walls, buildings, metal structures and wall graffiti. Beautiful as they are, they also express a certain boredom that is evidently present in the lives of the town inhabitants. The director does not delve into the lives of these people on a personal level, rather chooses to focus on the only two interests that keep the younger generation of the residents occupied on a collective basis - cadet school and ballet. In an oppressive cycle of nothingness, the children practice dancing and warfare like a social duty, an inescapable tradition in robotic precision. Everyone is free to leave, yet they don't - that's what the producer said when he presented this film to a local festival I was attending.

For most of the duration, this Nikkatsu pinku eiga plays out like a romantic family drama with a somewhat conservative moral standpoint - rather boring and generic as a matter of fact. Man, his estranged wife, his new carefree teenage girlfriend, his dying father, his adorable son - all stock characters acting out a commonplace story of dilemma. There are definitely clever little details in the story that may keep the audience engaged till it reaches a peculiar climax, one which I personally appreciated. A lot of pinku films have surprisingly good actors playing side character roles. This film is not an exception.

One of Suzuki's many lesser-known short fares, this movie looked like this was made for television in a shoestring budget. But Suzuki can work wonders with a bare-minimum set of a blank green wall and a hospital iron cot under a flat light. The story of a moral police detective falling for the girlfriend of a yakuza he had killed is a typical noir story. But under Suzuki's longtime collaborator and pinku legend Atsushi Yamatoya's screenplay this film takes many absurd, surreal turns towards the supernatural - all metaphorical of course. And they make a great cinematic experience. The detective starts to experience hallucinations about the ghost of the dead yakuza, believing the girlfriend is harboring his soul inside her - stories such as this can only make sense in a Seijun Suzuki film. Towards the end we are presented with a rather moral twist presented in a sardonic fashion.

It is difficult to categorize films like this - a mix of noir, mystery, comedy, romance, psychological horror all together. The uninitiated might consider it a complete mess, all over the place. But I personally enjoy little films with rough edges such as this where the director has squeezed everything out of his 45 minutes and a film production company's pocket change, to tell a complex story of human behavior. 6.5/10

Even if an international audience is not aware enough about the history and the contemporary political details about the inter-relationship between mainland China, Hong Kong and Taiwan, there is something universal about an artist's relationship with their country's laws of censorship. Having said that, audience from many perpetually liberal countries will have a difficult time appreciating a film like this - a film that has so many rough edges out of a humble production. If you have lived in a repressive state that treats its political dissenters with fierce spite, you can totally relate to the dilemma of a political artist - whether to conform and protect your family from state vendetta or to continue with your ideological battle even at the cost of putting your loved ones in trouble. The director of this film seems to tell their own deeply personal experiences, a rather absurd one at that, through a lens of fiction. Yet its connections to reality are deeply unnerving. There is little point in evaluating a film like this in terms of the quality of production, acting etc. Still the director has managed to unfold several subtle, poignant instances of human reaction. The characters appear all too real. Playing the protagonist must have been difficult for the actress - her character is an emotional mess, yet adopting a deadpan exterior to suppress all the anger inside. The occasionally brilliant screenplay doesn't say much, but suggests a lot- a trait I have often come to appreciate in cinema.

This little-known pinku eiga has a crafty visual flair, right from the masterfully shot title sequence. The plot concerns a photographer, a rather straight-man protagonist, who receives an unusual request from the weirdly charismatic editor of the soft porn magazine he works for - to get Saya, the mysterious introvert titular character, to pose for a photoshoot. Things soon get chaotic and dangerous, with shocking revelations about their past coming to light. The script tried to utilize its chances to get all serious and psychological about desire, violence, repentance and all that. But the campy acting throughout, especially by the male lead, gets in the way. The narrative flows pretty smooth, often taking unexpected turns, and offers a cold, steely look at the Japanese porn magazine industry. Some of the supporting characters are very well-written. It may appear to some viewers that a lot of events are happening out of nowhere, but who cares about that when those are shot so well and look so good on screen?