The Puppetmaster, the 2nd chapter in Hou’s acclaimed
‘Taiwan Trilogy’, dealt with the
50-year Japanese occupation of the country that lasted until the end of WWII,
recounted through the life of master puppeteer Li Tian-lu, whose childhood and
adult phases coincided with that period. Considerably less complex formally and
in terms of narration and structuring vis-à-vis A City of Sadness, this richly textured, gently told, leisurely
paced and bittersweet film subtly and deftly portrayed life under the
occupation through a deeply personal tale and the prism of memory. Li lost his
mother while still a kid, he never got along with his step-mother, he became
part of travelling troupes at a young age which helped in developing his skills
and his reputation as a puppeteer, he becomes embroiled in an extra-marital
relationship with the Madame of a brothel, and eventually becomes part of
propaganda shows organized by the Japanese military, and these were exquisitely
juxtaposed with the changing times, the social and political uncertainly, and
the uneasy relationship between the occupiers and the occupied. The narrative
was regularly interspersed with an ageing Li appearing in front of the camera
and providing fascinating little insights and wryly humorous reminiscences to
his life and the changing times. Hou also made considerable use of actual
puppet shows which laced the tale with allegorical commentaries. The staggering
depth and breadth of the storyline were brilliantly accentuated by beautiful
vistas of the Taiwanese countryside and traditional folk tunes. The most
striking feature of this rich tapestry lay in its covering such an ambitious scope
through mundane details and lyrical storytelling, imbued with simplicity, pathos
and humanism, reminiscent, at some level, of the Theo masterpiece The Travelling Players.
Director: Hou Hsiao-Hsien
Genre: Drama/Political Drama/Biopic
Language: Taiwanese/Japanese/Mandarin
Country: Taiwan
Spike
Jonze’s 4th feature in 14 years, Her,
is an original, prescient and thought-provoking blend of romance,
science-fiction and social commentary. It talks of a not so distant future
where the world, as it already is, is engulfed by emotional separation,
incessant corporatization and rabid dependence on technology, and quite
effortlessly critiqued the modern world under the garb of a heartwarming, albeit
discomfiting, love story, though it did veer towards sentimentality and morality
at times. Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) is a lonely, introverted and kindred soul
whose job, at the place he’s employed with, is to write heartfelt faux-letters
on behalf of others – and he’s very good at it. He’s also struggling to cope
with the collapse of his marriage to his childhood sweetheart (Rooney Mara).
The vacuum in his life finally starts getting filled when he embarks on a deeply
intimate relationship. Samantha (Scarlett Johansson) is everything he could
have hoped for – intelligent, charming, quirky and sensual; however, she’s not
human, but a next-gen OS imbued with self-learning abilities. Though a
seemingly bizarre proposition, he forms a profound bond with her – she helps
him cope with his memories and explore newer possibilities, while he assists
her in expanding her abilities to emote, respond and be human. However, the
deeper he gets entangled in this unique relationship, the more difficult it
potentially becomes for him accept that Samantha, at the end of the day, is not
a real person. Pheonix gave a startlingly controlled and empathetic
turn, while Amy Adams was also good as his only friend. The dazzling visuals
and lilting score added to the film’s trance like mood.
Director: Spike Jonze
Genre: Drama/Sci-Fi/Romance
Language: English
Country: US
The
ingeniously thought-out, innovatively structured and deeply heartfelt saga Apur Panchali, filled with humanism and
packed in with strong emotional wallop, tells us whatever happened to Subir
Banerjee, who’d played the iconic role of Apu in Ray’s landmark debut feature,
after the credits had rolled. It comprised of three parallel narrative strands
– the ‘present’, shot in colour, showed an ageing, retired and forgotten Subir
(Ardhendu Banerjee), a social recluse and forever haunted by memories of the
only film he ever acted in, being coaxed by a young film student (Gaurav
Chakrabarty) to accept an invitation from the German government which has
chosen Apu as the greatest child character in cinema, and the unlikely bond
that forms between them in the process; the ‘past’, shot in luminous B/W,
chronicled through the prism of memory the life of a younger Subir (Parambrata
Chatterjee), his simple middle-class life and job, his marriage (to Parno
Mitra), his friendship (with Ritwik Chakbraborty), and the small joys and
heartbreaking tragedies that defined his life; the third and most powerful
strand lay in regularly intercutting at various key moments in Subir’s past
with archival footages from Pather Panchali, Aparajito and Apur Sansar, which marvelously showed
the uncanny similarities between his and Apu’s journey, and added to the film’s
emotional intelligence. All the performances were restrained and affecting,
with the one by Ardhendu being the standout of the lot; the theme music, which
was a play on Ravi Shankar’s unforgettable score, was also good, if tad
overused. This fabulous Kaushik Ganguly film thus managed to be a memorable
homage to Ray’s seminal ‘Apu Trilogy’,
and more than that, a heart-rending ode to legendary child actors who
disappeared through the cracks after their brief moment under the sun.
Director: Kaushik Ganguly
Genre: Drama/Urban Drama/Biopic
Language: Bengali
Country: India
Claude
Chabrol, film critic for the iconic Cahiers
du Cinéma and Hitchcock
aficionado, took the plunge into filmmaking with Le Beau Serge,
considered by many as the first French Nouvelle Vague film. The film
might have been rough at the edges and not flawless either; nonetheless, it was
a sharp, confident and engaging debut that slyly played on the urban-rural
divide and the ‘city guy meets country bumpkin’ stereotype. But more than that,
it was a grim and tense psychological drama that touched base on themes ranging
from lost youth, memories of friendship, futile attempts at reconciliation with
past and present, marital struggles, Catholic guilt, and angst borne out of
frustrations, failure and jealousy. François
(Jean-Claude Brialy) returns from Paris to his village hometown to allow his
health to recover, only to find that things and people have changed
dramatically in these last 10 years of his absence. Most importantly for him,
his best friend from his younger days, Serge (Gérard Blain), has become a
self-destructive alcoholic since the death of his child who treats his loving
wife (Michèle Méritz) with disdain. François wants to be the do-gooder for his
former buddy, but Serge becomes more and more defensive with each attempt of
his on account of simmering discontent and anger for the divergent directions
their lives have taken. Things become more complicated when François becomes
involved with the promiscuous Marie (Bernadette Lafont). The naturalistic
performances and dark cinematographic shades perfectly brought forth the moody
atmosphere of the proceedings. Interestingly, Chabrol’s next feature, the
excellent Les Cousins, cheekily and
memorably reversed the scenario, and hence formed the perfect companion piece and
follow-up to this.
Director: Claude Chabrol
Genre: Drama/Psychological Drama/Rural Drama/Buddy Film
Language: French
Country: France
Tony Manero, Larrain’s sophomore feature and the 1st
chapter in his thematically linked “No
Redemption Trilogy” (which also comprised of Post Mortem and No),
provided, contrary to what its plot synopsis might lead one to believe, a lacerating,
darkly comical and deeply disturbing peek into the bleak underbelly of Chile
during the Pinochet years. The film’s oddball protagonist Raúl (Alfredo Castro)
is an outsider in every sense of the term – he is obsessed with John Travolta’s
character and disco dance in Saturday
Night Fever, his moral compass is long dysfunctional, his emotional
landscape is as barren as a ghost town, he is laced with strong sociopathic
tendencies, he is uniformly nasty to all and casual violence has become part of
his essence. That he is also financially stricken, a loner, an ageing wannabe
and a permanently damaged soul, added tragic undertones to his alienation,
barely suppressed existential angst and nihilistic outlook. He spends ungodly
hours memorizing lines from the film at a local theatre, carries around his
recently made white tuxedo with him, and hopes to win the local competition to
find Chile’s Tony Manero; and yes, he doesn’t mind killing a person or two for
the most trifling benefits without so much as blinking an eyelid. Hand-held
cameras, grimy picture quality and complete lack of any background score gave a
raw and gritty feel to this fascinating examination of this complex Santiago resident –
aided in no small parts by Castro’s exhilarating performance, and also provided
disconcerting socio-political commentaries to the devastating effects of the draconian
police state presided over by Pinochet. Rarely does a film manage to be so
quirky and discomfiting in equal measures.
Director: Pablo Larrain
Genre: Drama/Urban Drama
Language: Spanish
Country: Chile
