Foreign Language Films – Ripple Effects

‘Roma’ and the Power of Childhood Memories

This awards season, a black-and-white film stands out. Many have noted its cinematography and director Alfonso Cuarón’s versatility, from his multiple Oscar-winning space drifting Gravity (2013) and adaptation of P. D. James’s dystopian thriller Children of Men (2006) to the current Roma, a semi-autobiographical work. Surely I agree to all these, but it’s the personal resonance that the film evokes that makes it so memorable for me.

Yalitza Aparicio as Cleo in Alfonso Cuarón’s *Roma*. Photo courtesy of TIFF.

I first saw Roma at the 2018 Toronto International Film Festival in September. The large screen effects are enfolding. Cinematography is thoughtful and the state-of-the-art Dolby Atmos sound mixing–especially the climatic ocean scene towards the end of the film–was totally engulfing, as if I was alone in the raging sea, despite sitting in a fully packed theatre.

Watching it again this time on my laptop streaming from Netflix is another experience. The intimacy and allowance for repeat viewing and listening to specific dialogues (re-reading the subtitles) are the obvious benefits. Especially with our local theatres not screening the film, the streaming service has a definite role to play in bringing the worthy feature to more viewers. Certainly if Roma plays in your local theatre, do watch it on the big screen as the production was meant to be seen.

What’s most moving is the director’s gentle rendering of his maid and nanny Cleo (first-time performance by Yalitza Aparicio) in his childhood home in Roma, an upper-middle class neighbourhood in Mexico during the years 1970-71. Cuarón juxtaposes Cleo’s personal ordeal with the political backdrop of the time, and weaving an unassuming life of a maid with episodes of an earthquake, a fire and a threatening ocean climatic scene. Other than these, the everyday work of a maid are deceptively mundane, for underlying are the emotive elements of human relationships.

Cleo is an essential member of the household, cleaning, cooking, serving, and taking care of the four children and their parents. She’s the one who puts the younger ones to bed and wakes them up in the morning. From the nuanced, naturalistic framing and some deeply affective moments, Roma is an ode to those who care for children not just out of duty but genuine love.

The reciprocal sentiments from the children, mom Sofia (Marina de Tavira) and grandma Teresa (Verónica García) make the glue that hold the family together at a critical time when the father (Fernando Grediaga) disappears, supposedly on an academic trip to Quebec but coincidentally is seen on the street with another woman. Here the role played by Cleo, a maid, is delicate and precarious. “No matter what they tell you, we women are always alone,” wife Sofia says to Cleo one night returning home by herself half drunk. Cleo shares her pain.

The film belongs to Yalitza Aparicio who plays Cleo with unadorned naturalness. Before this first time acting, she was a preschool teacher. This could well explain her instinctive fondness for the children under her care in the film. Cleo has her personal sad experience with a young man with a different agenda, and it is the family and the children that rekindle her zeal after a personal tragedy, a remarkable exchange of mutual support and kindness.

As the cinematographer himself, Cuarón’s planning of shots is meticulous and masterful. The camera captivates from the opening credits. We see the close-up frame of what looks like clay tiles of the ground, yes, they are, as water is splashed on them and sounds of sweeping and cleaning are heard. As the story unfolds we learn that it is Cleo cleaning dog wastes in the family porch. But don’t lose sight of this seemingly mundane scene. Once water is splashed on the flat, dirty tiles they reflect an open sky above with an airplane flying across from afar. That is the exact ending shot of the film. From waste-filled clay tiles on the ground to the open sky, water is the agent of reflection, a cleansing element, and towards the end, water marks a confirming love and new zest for life.

Last week, I made a long distance phone call to the maid and nanny of my family when I was growing up in Hong Kong. She is 97 years old now and living on her own, still goes to the market to buy fresh ingredients to cook for herself. I was able to chat with her and send well wishes. Childhood memories are powerful markers of identity and experiences; thanks to Roma for evoking such while one is unaware, as it works magic in creating new imagery to sustain them.

~ ~ ~ ~ Ripples

***

TIFF-launched foreign language films shooting for Oscars 2019

Watching foreign language films could be an acquired taste for some, not unlike eating sushi. Once you’ve gotten over the seemingly counter-intuitive idea of eating fish raw and allow the soft texture to melt in your mouth, you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the cold freshness and welcome the brain-stirring sting of the wasabi, as well, appreciate the sweet taste when lightly dipped in soya sauce, balanced by the blandness of the vinegared rice morsel. A delightful exploration.

Film festivals are the best venues for one to have a taste of these international, cinematic delicacies. And as usual, the 43rd Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) this September was a launching pad for films from all over the world, several were subsequently announced as their country’s official entry to the upcoming Oscars Best Foreign Language Film race.

“Shoplifters”, this year’s Palme d’Or winner and Japan’s official entry to the
91st Oscar Best Foreign Language Film race. Photo courtesy of TIFF

The following is the list of TIFF selections that made it to represent their country at the 91st Oscars. Posted also are their premiere status at TIFF. Some of these I’d seen at the Festival and since reviewed (just click on the links). More reviews are forthcoming. The Oscar nominations will be announced Tuesday, Jan. 22, 2019.

El Angel, Argentina, dir. by Luis Ortega, North American (NA) Premiere

Hidden Man, China, dir. by Jiang Wen, International Premiere

Birds of Passage, Columbia, dir. by Cristina Gallego & Ciro Guerra, Canadian (CA) Premiere

Sergio and Sergei, Cuba, dir. by Ernesto Daranas, NA Premiere

Winter Flies, Czech Republic, dir. by Olmo Omerzu, International Premiere

Never Look Away, Germany, dir. by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, NA Premiere

Sunset, Hungary, dir. by László Nemes, NA Premiere

The Cakemaker, Israel, dir. by Ofir Raul Graizer

Dogman, Italy, dir. by Matteo Garrone, CA Premiere

Shoplifters, Japan, dir. by Hirokazu Kore-eda, CA Premiere

Capernaum, Lebanon, dir. by Nadine Labaki, NA Premiere

Roma, Mexico, dir. by Alfonso Cuarón, CA Premiere (Review forthcoming)

Cold War, Poland, dir. by Pawel Pawlikowski, (Review forthcoming)

Burning, South Korea, dir. by Lee Chang-dong, NA Premiere

Border, Sweden, dir. by Ali Abbasi, NA Premiere

The Wild Pear Tree, Turkey, dir. by Nuri Bilge Ceylan (Review forthcoming)

The 91st Academy Awards ceremony will take place Sunday, February 24, 2019.

The Salesman: A Timely Film

It’s time we get used to reading subtitles.

The Salesman is one of five nominees for Best Foreign Language Film in the upcoming 89^th Academy Awards on February 26. Due to the executive order banning travellers from seven Muslim countries, Iranian director Asghar Farhadi will not be attending. The director has indicated he will not accept any exception made for his case. Co-star Taraneh Alidoosti has stated she will boycott the ceremony as a protest.

Whose loss is it that Asghar Farhadi is banned from coming to the Academy Awards?

After the untimely passing last year of Iranian auteur Abbas Kiarostami (Certified Copy, 2010), Farhadi continues to carry the legacy of fine Iranian filmmaking with international accolades. Starting with About Elly, which he won Best Director at Berlinale in 2009, Farhadi went on to capture both the Oscar and the César Award in France for Best Foreign Language Film with A Separation (2011). The Past (2013) brought him two Cannes prizes. His newest work The Salesman won a Best Screenplay for the writer/director and a Best Actor award for his star Shahab Hosseini at Cannes last year. Now North American viewers have a chance to see this engaging family drama.

thesalesman_poster_2764x4096-copy

The story starts off with an evacuation of an apartment building on the verge of collapsing. A couple, Emad (Shahab Hosseini, A Separation, About Elly) and Rana (Taraneh Alidoosti, About Elly) are among the anxious residents fleeing the building. We can see large cracks on the wall in their bedroom. Responding to the shout for help, Emad diverts to his neighbor’s unit to carry his adult, mentally ill son on his own back to go down the stairs. A seemingly spontaneous move in the rush of evacuation, Farhadi lets us see an act of kindness from his main character.

A friend offers Emad and Rana a recently vacated apartment unit to stay. Its previous tenant still has her belongings stored in one room. She has left in haste, a shady figure who has frequent male clients coming to her unit. Emad only learns of this after a violent incident that happens to his wife. Rana is alone in the unit one night. She leaves her apartment door ajar for Emad, thinking he will come home soon while she steps into the shower.

Emad returns home to see traces of blood on the stairs and soon learns that his wife has been taken to the hospital emergency by neighbors. We as viewers do not know exactly what has happened but can conjecture by the circumstance. We see a traumatized Rana with stiches on her forehead. She is released to recover at home, but refuses to let Emad call the police. Later, as Emad discovers a cell phone and a set of keys left by the intruder, he decides to investigate on his own and takes matters into his own hands.

Since the incident, husband and wife begin to drift slowly apart, Rana being reticent and Emad vigilant. Here we see Farhadi’s signature cinematic handling: incisive depiction of domestic tensions shrouded in Hitchcokian suspense. We soon forget we are watching an Iranian couple living in Tehran. As with his previous works, Farhadi is effective here in engaging his viewers and to elicit empathy for both the husband and the wife despite their very opposite response to the attack.

Emad and Rana belong to a local theatre group. They are presently rehearsing for a run of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, playing Willy and Linda Loman. Farhadi deftly intertwines the on-stage and the real-life couple with intricate parallels. In the play, we see the demise of Willy Loman and the end of a relationship; in their real life, we see Emad and Rana’s marriage deteriorate, and a demise of a different kind for Emad. The cracks on the wall above their bed at the opening scene is now an apt metaphor, their once close bond slowly crumbles.

Actually, there are two plays involved in the film. The obvious one is Miller’s. The other is easy to miss. During the day, Emad is a teacher. In one scene, we see him teaching a play called The Cow, a work written by the prolific Iranian writer Gholām-Hossein Sā’edi. Reminiscent of Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, The Cow evokes much enthusiasm in his class of teenage boys. The play is an allegory about a man who owns the only cow in a village; his daily life is closely tied to the animal, his identity defined by his ownership of this unique possession. When one day he loses his cow in an accident, he ends up turning into one.

Here are two prominent lines. A student asks: “How can you turn into a cow?” Emad answers: “Gradually.” Sounds like a joke, but no student laughs. Farhadi subtly leads us to see how.

The last part of the film is the most crucial. Emad’s good detective work leads him to come face to face with the attacker. He has him locked in a room in their previous, vacated apartment. Playing to the attacker’s fear of revealing to his wife and family what he had done, Emad calls them to come over. Farhadi is brilliant in leading us to a situation where we as viewers are challenged to empathize all his characters despite their opposing sides, and to weigh in on what we would have done. He puts his viewers in the position not as a judge, but witness.

Slowly we are led to see how a man can lose the veneer of civility and change into something else as he allows revenge dominates his emotions. The kind and helpful man we see in the opening scene is now shrouded in a different sentiment. In the most nuanced and quiet manner, Farhadi lets us visualize Emad’s earlier reply to his student, how a man can gradually change into a different being. Or, is it a latent potency we all have that different circumstances would elicit a different aspect of our self?

At this juncture, Farhadi reveals to us a multi-faceted man. A helpful neighbour, loving husband, well-liked teacher, and a cultured stage actor. When put in a situation where vigilante justice takes over, and revenge molds the mind, or even when the social expectation of being a protective male head in a marriage prevails, is Emad free to act? If the accused pleads for his own release, and the victim herself is willing to forgive, should the husband carry out his reprimand? On the other hand, should the attacker just go free?

In the final shot, we see Emad and Rana sit beside each other as make-up is applied to get them ready for their parts as Willy and Linda. Their expressions in the mirrors make one haunting image to end the film.

Banned from entering the United States, what Farhadi will lose are the glitz and glam of the Oscars. By his absence at the ceremony, the Academy will lose the chance to honor an internationally acclaimed director who is a master in revealing human frailties and eliciting from viewers the very empathy we so need in this testing time.

Fortunately we can still watch his film.

~ ~ ~ ~ Ripples

***

Like Father, Like Son (2013): Parent and Child Reunion

I had wanted to see this Japanese film since it came out last year. Missed it at TIFF13 last September, its North American premiere after winning the Cannes Film Festival’s Jury Prize in May. Glad it has finally arrived on Netflix, reaching a much wider audience than just festival goers, deservedly.

Director Hirokazu Kore-eda wrote the screenplay based on a disturbing premise: what if after six years of raising your son, the hospital where he was born contacted you and told you that your child was switched at birth, and of course, they sent their apology.

The hospital officials do not take this lightly. DNA tests are done to confirm. They have a lawyer with them, arrange to have you meet the other parents, mediate and ease the proposed switch back, which they recommend with a six-month preparation period, preferably before the boys start grade one in school. They even find out who the nurse is that made the error; due to her own frustrations at the time she knowingly made the switch. Of course, she is deeply sorry for what she had done and duly prosecuted. Monetary compensations are arranged.

But all the above have absolutely nothing to do with easing the shock and alleviating the trauma afflicted upon the families. Formality and legality do not soothe the pain; apologies and money cannot compensate for the abrupt termination of relationships.

Director Kore-eda has treated the subject matter with much tenderness and charm. The cinematography is stylish, the children and adults are all captured in a realistic manner with splashes of endearing humour.

The two families come from very different social strata, and the two boys have been raised in opposite parenting styles. Interestingly, only one of the families seems to take this news much harder. Ryota Nonomiya (Masaharu Fukuyama) is a successful professional who spends most of his time in the glass towers of Tokyo busy at work. His son Keita (Keita Nonomiya), an only child, is raised in a protective environment. Mother Midori (Machiko Ono) is loving but also ambivalent about a husband who puts his career over his family.

The other family is a shop owner in a rural part of the country, their son Ryusei (Shôgen Hwang) is the eldest of three children. Father Yudai Saiki (Rirî Furankî) is every child’s dream. He spends his days playing with his children, fixes their toys, and exerts no rules, albeit Mom Yukari (Yoko Maki) might wish he could have spent more time working.

What makes a father? What makes a son? Fatherhood and bloodline tend to supersede all other factors in a patriarchal society like Japan. But the film reflects the point of view that not all families necessarily embrace such a value. Further, apparently there are different parenting styles even in a homogeneous Japanese society.

If there is ever a Japanese version of the movie Boyhood as we have seen here from Richard Linklater, Hirokazu Kore-eda would be the ideal person to direct it. Like Father Like Son follows his previous work I Wish (2011) in its sensitive and incisive depiction of a boy’s heart and yearning. He can tear apart the facade of societal formality–but in a most tender way–and lay bare the hopes and needs, the essence of parents child relationships.

I must give credits to Johann Sebastian Bach, and the late Canadian pianist Glenn Gould. The beginning of Bach’s Goldberg Variations has been used in numerous films, but every time the soulful slow moving piano melody comes out, I am moved, no matter how many times I’ve heard it, and in so many different genres of films. Just from memory, I can think of The English Patient (1996), Hannibal (2001), Shame (2011). It is so effective in augmenting cinematic moments without becoming clichéd.

Here, the Aria is well placed as director Kore-eda uses it as a motif to spur us into deeper thoughts. What makes a father, a son? What is more important, blood or relationships? What is the role of a wife and mother in a patriarchal society? What is the purpose of giving birth and bringing up a child? What is fulfilling and meaningful to us as human beings? Indeed, a motif that can strike a universal chord of resonance that transcends cultures.

~ ~ ~ 1/2 Ripples

The Kite Runner: Book Into Film

The Book

I read The Kite Runner last summer, and it has remained one of my favorite books. It might as well be called Atonement, because that’s exactly what it’s about. But this time, the character, Amir, has to deal with the sin of omission. Just the same, failure to act can lead to devastating consequences, and Amir, just like Briony in Ian McEwan’s Atonement, has to live with his guilt throughout his life. Unlike Briony, Amir has a chance to redeem himself. As Amir’s mentor Rahim Khan says: ‘There’s a way to be good again’, despite the tragedies that have already taken place.

Highly acclaimed as the first Afghan novel written in English, The Kite Runner became an international bestseller, publishing in 40 countries. Author Khaled Hosseini was born in Kabul, son of a diplomat. His family sought and received political asylum in the United States as the Soviet invaded Afghanistan, settling in California in 1980 when he was 15. Hosseini later studied medicine and became an internist practicing until 2004, when he began to devote his time fully to writing.

The book is neatly divided into three sections, the first narrates the childhood of the socially privileged Amir growing up in Kabul. His best friend is Hassan, the son of their servant Ali. The two boys grow up together, freely roaming the streets of Kabul almost as brothers. Hassan is totally dedicated to Amir. He has been Amir’s kite runner, retrieving downed rival kites, and defended him from bullies. During one horrific incident, Amir betrays Hassan. Deeply troubled by guilt, Amir devises a plan to ultimately rid himself of the source of his torments, indirectly driving Ali and Hassan out of their household.

Upon the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, Amir flees to America with his father. The second part of the book chronicles Amir as an adult, his once fragile relationship with his father is forged stronger as the two strive for their new life in a distant land. Before his father’s death from illness, Amir gets married and realizes his dream as a writer. The third part of the book depicts Amir’s journey back to the now Taliban controlled Afghanistan to fulfill a mission that would ultimately lead to his personal redemption.

I was moved as I read the author’s poignant first-person narratives. This is the power of words in the hand of a sensitive and talented writer, articulating the deepest feelings otherwise hidden beyond reach. I enjoyed the first part the most. Through vivid description and deceptively simple language Hosseini depicts poignantly the friendship of Amir and Hassan, the loyalty of Hassan and the betrayal by Amir, and ultimately the separation of the two childhood friends.

The political upheavals are used as a backdrop, adding texture to the story. The book is not about the Soviets or the Taliban. It’s about a father-son relationship, family, friendship, love, and loss. Above all, it chronicles the life-long haunting consequences of one’s action or inaction, the atonement of wrong done, and the necessary journey in search of redemption.

And for the kite soaring high in the sky, it may well be a metaphor for freedom and victory, not just politically, but internally, being set free from burden, from guilt. Despite a relatively weaker second section, overall The Kite Runner is beautifully written, an engrossing and satisfying read.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

The Movie

Update Jan. 22: The Kite Runner has just been nominated for an Oscar for Best Original Score.

First off, I must state that I’m evaluating the film according to its own genre, as a film. And to be fair, the movie follows the story quite closely, almost dividing the script into three sections like the book, and telling the story adequately. Ironically, such direct transfer does not fare well with the film medium. The transition of scenes are sometimes quite abrupt and choppy. The same dialogues are there, but the mood is missing. The eagerness of storytelling seems to have overshadowed the artistry of movie making. As a result, the film lacks the power to engage.

I must say though, there are merits that I should acknowledge. Kudos to Ahmad Khan Mahmidzada for portraying young Hassan so movingly. He’s probably the most affable and natural actor in the whole movie. His presence is the appeal of the film, and he well deserves the Critics Choice Award nomination for Best Young Actor. Unfortunately his role only appears in the first part.

Transferring the story to screen, director Marc Forster (Stranger Than Fiction, 2006) has taken advantage of the visual element, bringing to life the excitement of the sport of kite combat. To North American audiences, such scenes may well be a spectacular eye-opener. The original score by Alberto Iglesias (Volver, 2006, Constant Gardener, 2005) plays an essential part in the movie, imparting the intended effects where other film elements may be lacking. His composition earns him a nod from the Golden Globes for a Best Original Score nomination.

The movie attempts to present the cultural sights and sounds of Afghan life, albeit on a very small scale. My main disappointment though was to find out, as the end credits rolled, that the Afghan scenes were all shot in Xinjiang and Beijing, China. Was I too naive to think that a movie about Afghanistan should be shot in Afghanistan?

As I was watching the movie I felt something was missing, but couldn’t pinpoint what. I felt the acting by the main character, the adult Amir, played by Khalid Abdalla (United 93, 2006) and his wife Soraya (Atossa Leoni), to be distant and detached. Maybe due to their lack of acting experience, their performance seem to be less intense and expressive than what the story demands.

Now that I’ve given it some thoughts, I think the lack of the intimacy which the book so successfully delivers can be compensated on screen by a narrative voice-over. The personal narrative of the book is what makes the story poignant and moving. The film could benefit from a first person narrative to draw viewers closer and to convey more effectively the hidden turmoils that can’t be expressed cinematically, or technically. A well written narrative voice-over could impact the audience in a more haunting way as the book has achieved.

Overall, the movie is an adequate adaptation of the book, but it only offers a glimpse of what the book entails. As a nominee for the Best Foreign Language Film category at the Golden Globes this year, hopefully, it can draw viewers’ interest to dig deeper into the profound story by reading the source material first hand.

~ ~ 1/2 Ripples