There Is No Evil [2020]

 Dissident Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof’s There Is No Evil – unsurprisingly banned in his country – was a magnificently crafted anthology film suffused with rousing political defiance, dramatic power and existential melancholy. However, what perhaps stood apart was its remarkable thematic clarity, viz. unequivocal opposition to capital punishments. The film comprised of four chapters – disparate in terms of premise and tonality – except that they were all exquisitely bound by their quietly resolute thematic convictions and their deliberately paced narrative buildups that always ended with startling twists. The first chapter, made in the form of a family drama, chronicled a seemingly average day in the life of middle-aged married man (Ehsan Mirhosseini) whose seemingly mundane life belies his hideous profession; the second chapter, fashioned as a thrilling prison-break film, was centered on a young soldier (Kaveh Ahangar) who must take a reckless route to avoid executing a doomed prisoner; the third chapter, presented for large parts as a blossoming romance, sees another young soldier, making an unannounced visit to his vivacious fiancée’s place, only to learn of a disquieting death; and the riveting final chapter, moodily orchestrated as a family reunion, portrayed a young woman spending few days with her mysterious uncle who lives a fiercely secluded life thanks to something he did – and didn’t do – many years back. Each episode was distinctively striking – the first for its shocking coup de théâtre and depiction of banality of evil, the second for a euphoric finale ecstatically accompanied by the antifascist resistance anthem ‘Bella Ciao’, the third by the realization of the devastating consequences of blindly following orders, and the final by its complex meditation on the oftentimes massive cost of displaying moral courage.

 

 

 

 

 

Director: Mohammad Rasoulof

Genre: Drama/Thriller/Existentialist Drama/Political Thriller/Omnibus Film

Language: Persian

Country: Iran

The Woman Who Ran [2020]

 The Woman Who Ran – with its meandering flow, rambling conversations, low-key style, subjective POV, and romantic relationships existing at various stages of dysfunction – possessed all the distinctive traits of Hong’s filmography. And, while it might’ve appeared to be low on meta-narrative and self-referential elements, it had a bit of that too; one of the characters absentmindedly opines about her writer husband, “If he just repeats himself, how can that be sincere?”, which didn’t just inadvertently allude to the film’s protagonist Gam-hee (Kim Min-hee) who keeps repeating to all her friends – with a deadpan air of insincere make-believe – the same story of undiminished love that she shares with her husband, but perhaps on a sardonic note to the director’s oeuvre too. The episodic narrative was loosely structured into three parts wherein Gam-hee – seemingly making use of her “me time” as her husband is apparently on a business trip – connects with her old friends. In the first chapter she visits Young-soon (Seo Young-hwa), who’s divorced and shares her apartment at a picturesque Seoul suburb with a female flatmate; in the middle chapter she visits Sou-young (Song Seon-mi), who’s having an affair with a guy who incidentally resides in the same building. And, in the final chapter, she has an unplanned reunion with an estranged friend (Kim Saebyuk) married to Gam-hee’s ex-boyfriend. The movie’s outwardly placid happenings – albeit, with gently simmering undercurrents – were often punctuated with wryly funny moments, be it a hilariously courteous argument with a man who’s wife has an aversion to cats, or Young-soon’s dramatic fight with a younger guy who keeps pursuing her; or Gam-hee sharing an awkward smoke with her visibly flustered former lover.

 

Director: Hong Sang-soo

Genre: Drama/Buddy Film

Language: Korean

Country: South Korea

Red Post on Escher Street [2020]

 There’s no dearth of remarkable films on filmmaking – from serious to playful, gritty to modernist, and deadpan to flamboyant. But rarely has one been made on the casting process, and in particular on those who viewers see but rarely observe, viz. the bit-players, such that maverick Japanese filmmaker Sion Sono’s exuberant, infectious, whimsical and wildly enjoyable Red Post on Escher Street might well be dubbed as “Revenge of the Extras”. And, its zany narrative structure – starting on a comical note, becoming progressively farcical and even surreal, before gleefully bursting into chaos – possibly bore influences ranging from Imamura (Pigs and Battleships) to Almodóvar (Women on the Verge of A Nervous Breakdown). Famous director Tadashi Kobayashi (Tatsuhiro Yamaoka), a favourite of the festival circuit, intends to have amateurs in lead roles for a studio-produced gig, and the casting call brings in a motley crowd of young women – a badass theatre troupe, members of a cult-like Kobayashi fan club, a recently widowed woman accompanied by her doting mother and pony-tailed step-father, a striking woman whose abusive father has just killed himself, etc. The massive ensemble, of course, didn’t end there – there’s the baby-faced filmmaker himself struggling to complete the script, his spunky girlfriend who might be a ghost, a clumsy producer and his bullying boss, an assistant director who idolizes Kobayashi, and, arguably the best of ’em all, an ageing man-child who’s the self-anointed “King of Extras”. The elaborate backstories, inadvertent inter-connections, deadpan asides, unpredictable plot developments, multiple perspectives of the same scenes wherein side players in one version become the protagonists in the other, and an unfettered dose of crazy fun, made this a lively, subversive and unapologetically over-the-top work.

 

 

 

 

Director: Sion Sono

Genre: Comedy/Showbiz Satire/Black Comedy/Ensemble Film

Language: Japanese

Country: Japan