Venus in Fur (2013) - Roman Polanski

Last film to date that has produced the once so remarkable and appreciable Polish Roman Polanski, a film that continues sticking to the guidelines showed in his latest works. This time Polanski adapts a work that has multiple origins, having its primal root in the novel written by Austrian Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, sordid work composed in several sections that gives the name to the masochism stream. Later, David Ives would take one of those sections to adapt the novel into a play, and finally this yankee would work with Polanski himself to develop the script of the film. Minimalist film, another one of this kind of exercise from the Polish throughout his career, the picture displays a simple story, the brief episode of a theater director who makes auditions for a new female role, obtaining only deceptions of applicants to the part. Until a singular female appears, resolute and determined to get the role, but in that track, director and actress find themselves in the midst of a peculiar situation, when the part to interpret is extending beyond the fiction and both artists suddenly inadvertently bring the work to plane of real life. New sort of psychological study by Polanski, and new adaptation of a play, like the immediately preceding Carnage (2011), setting a decent, discreet but decent film in what is already eying as the final stretch of the career of this great filmmaker.

                 

A somewhat uncertain music, somewhat dark takes us to the interior of a theater, on a night where we see the director Thomas (Mathieu Amalric), who is having hard times not getting the actress he needs to play the role of Vanda in his new play. Then, arrives late an actress who has the same name (Emmanuelle Seigner), dressed very appropriately to sadomasochistic role she wants to represent. Reluctant at first, Thomas gives in the momentum of Vanda, she displays the audition, and he is shocked to see the strength and naturalness of Vanda to play the role. The lines of the role played are advancing, as well as the admiration of Thomas for his new aspirant, to the level that pays homage, not only artistically. Like the male character of the literary work, the director submits completely to the will of Vanda, although in the play that submission is extended for a year. Various situations will happen, the director shares some events of his personal life, always with her in command and control of what happens, even managing the woman the lighting of the theatrical precinct, being Thomas unable to control the changing roles in the reality. As the director assumes the role of a slave, she dominates more and more, crossdresses him into Vanda, and finally leaves him alone and tied inside the theater.

The bizarreness of the picture is seen from the beginning, with the musical accompaniment that has shades of dark, of bizarre atmospheres, according to the nature and subject of the film, while, with a traveling advance both lens and viewer in the shady night by the street, enters the as well dark theater, we get prepared for the show to witness. The music is rather scarce for the film, appears in dribs and drabs, but appears to generate certain environments, especially in times like successive approaches between director and directed. Aesthetically there will be pleasant surprises, attractive moments: when seeing over a painting, more than one painting, especially at the end of the tape with many historical images by painters such as Botticelli, among others, representing famous females, real and mythological. There are sequences -few, but there are- where we actually appreciate a chromatic domain, a powerful light-and-shadows game that almost seem to have drawn these principles from the paintings, the effect of colors and contrasts, which definitely enhances these sequences, and enriches the aesthetics of the film. So we observe the domineering and unbridled Vanda coming almost out of nowhere, out of darkness, moving toward the light and displaying a colorful costume at the theater, in a nice resource within austerity and economy of resources of the film. Good atmosphere for the environment to create, the environment where reality and fiction line breaks, and where those two only players interact.

We never left that pairing of actors, in this sense, is the most minimalist picture of Polanski, the one which fewer resources needed to be produced, because although is too well known to the connoisseur of the polanskian work his minimalist inclination, his taste to make films with minimal resources, this is the opportunity where that proclivity gets to climax point. Thus, we saw his lineament in Knife in the Water (1962), continuing in Repulsion (1965) and Cul-de-sac (1966), his early films, where two or three characters, even a single character in the case of Repulsion, is responsible for all the action, is the receptacle and simultaneously engine for major events. In turn, in those films everything is triggered in minimal spaces, minimal and low scenarios, and all this feeds powerfully the minimalist style that was always in Polanski films. Then, for three decades he was away from these guidelines, to return lukewarmly to them in appreciable Death and the Maiden (1994); again abandon those guidelines up the feature to the beginning said, Carnage, and stringing the Polish filmmaker, decades later, two films of this nature in a row. But, as stated, this feature carries those two directives to the peak, when the duo of performers are the only human elements that we see, and when the small theater venue is the only scenario seen during the ninety minutes of footage. Polanski maximizes some of his most important guidelines, certainly returns to its beginnings while still taking refuge in the theater (Carnage is also a theater piece).

In that sense, the director, when adaptating theater to cinema, two art so close, renounces the showiest artifices of seventh art, austerity of resources is also reflected in that plane. But obviously, an adaptation thus combines the virtues of both theater and cinema, with the wonders that can be done in montage and with a good shots work (which Polanski certainly gets), and we will see some expressive framings, empowering at times the female for her location in the shots; light low-angle shootings, shots and reverse shots, and other framings again attest to this. It is curious that Polanski, without being a theater man, in a moment that is expected as the closing stage of his career, performs this kind of exercise, and do it with quality. Polanski continues turning to his wife, his wife Emmanuelle Seigner, who frankly could have some excess of years for this film; she still retains much of its solvency and her antecedents in the sordid films by her husband (Frantic 1988, obviously the remembered Bitter Moon 1992, and regrettable The Ninth Gate 1999) were the main arguments for, fourteen years later, starring in a tape of the Polish again. That said, the Seigner retains many of her virtues, but has lost freshness over the years, and although his performance does not clash or disappoints, maybe a younger actress could have performed the same or better job. Mathieu Amalric complete the reduced acting cast, and he feels achiever in his double-faced and almost always subjected role.

The character of theater director is eying almost as an extension of filmmaker Roman himself, who probably felt affinities between himself and the flamboyant theater director who is completely subjected to the will of the fiery female who directs his work. Sadomasochism from literary novel goes portraying from Vanda's provocative and daring clothing, getting at some point in lower garments, and becoming the dominator of everything. In that sense, the psychological game is portrayed, the work of von Sacher-Masoch, of course, is full of sordidness -not in vain sadomasochism was named after the author because of this novel-, dark and bizarre issues, it moves to film, the director has a traumatic experience with a whipping aunt, and he acquired a taste for it. The psychological game is severe, the exchange of roles is absolute, starting with her managing the theater lights, then fiction gets beyond its scope and moves to reality: she assumes the role of psychiatrist and he is placed on the couch, the figures and theatricality deployed reinforce powerfully that tense psychological atmosphere. Gradually their roles are exchanged and that is also reinforced by the correct camera work mentioned, it is pretty clear who's boss and who obeys. If it was already outlined a psychological study in Carnage, with parents losing control, with this film indeed new heights are reached. The tape is nice, can fool its apparent discretion, but is powerful at some times, I like the idea of making theater from cinema, that game between the two arts that makes the filmmaker. However, it feels like a feature already in the old age of its director, psychology becomes important and strength, other aspects of his films seem to be decreasing already since decades. Not having an upcoming project confirmed by Polanski, is this his last production available, noticeable, pleasant, perhaps not the best of its creator, but enjoyable.

Maradona by Kusturica (2008) - Emir Kusturica

Second documentary produced by bosnian Emir Kusturica, after Super 8 Stories, made in 2001, and in which the filmmaker paid tribute to the band that himself leads and takes all over the world spreading his gypsy-roots music. For this opportunity, and as evidenced by the title, the director will pay tribute to one of his biggest idols, known his fervent passion for football: Diego Armando Maradona. Kusturica had previously produced the beautiful drama Life Is a Miracle (2004), the very irregular and incomprehensible Promise me this (2007), and one year immediately after the latter mentioned film, produces the director this documentary, in which he revels sharing moments documenting the life of one of the biggest stars of football. Enjoys Emir shaping impressions and memories of the popular "Pelusa", his start from the humblest moments of his childhood, his rise and pass through various football clubs, Boca Juniors from Argentine, Italian Naples, Spanish Barcelona , and of course, their historical and imperishable historical goals to England with the national team of Argentina. He also collected comments of the soccer star, collecting views and wails, his foray into television, of course the scandal of drug addiction, among other things. Containing the documentary style with which the Bosnian had hovered in the previous documentary cited lines above, it is a nice sketch built by the Balkan of one the greatest icons of modern culture.

              

Interestingly, that commented documentary style is captured when from the beginning we see the Bosnian band in concert, and Kusturica presented as the Maradona of cinema, and more than one segment will feel also impregnated with similar atmosphere to that documentary debut, paraphernalia deployed in that picture is quite similar, something certainly very natural by the way. In that sense, something of his particular and irreverent style, his singular mood is manifested, and perhaps were a little exagerated certain animations, cartoonish performances as a mockery of British royalty, the then Yankee ruler Bush, among others significant people; it is an element that gives some slapstick air to the documentary, but it is something that knowing the style of Kusturica, prone as it is to the excesses, in addition to his particular humor, and of course the obvious nature and guidelines of this work, that "slapstick air" is seen rather as something moderate. We observe an attractive retrospective to life of the famous "Pelusa", obviously an anthology of his best achievements in the football field, the inescapable drug-addiction theme, and his TV foray into the "The night of the 10" show. Archive photos in black and white will document the beginnings of Maradona when he was a child and giving touches to the ball, showing his skills and predicting his future glories.

We will see his beginnings in Fiorito, of course a visual compilation of his most brilliant goals in Argentina, Italy, Spain, and numerous replays of the moment when he touched the sky with his hands in the World Cup Mexico 86, the indelible goals to England, hand of God and certainly the goal of the century, repeated so many times as a goal of this caliber deserves. Being shot in 2005, it is also documented the time when Maradona returns to Naples, and of course the overflowingpassion he gets, a city, a football club where he is a living legend is portreyed. Maradona as well travels to Belgrade, to the Red Star club stadium, club of the former Yugoslavia, historical champion of the Champions League, a stadium where Diego played a game, and recreates memorable goals there. Kusturica, as football fan as all of his followers we know, has the honor to exchange touches and butting the ball with Diego Armando Maradona himself, a real enjoyment and pleasure for the giant Balkan filmmaker. Kusturica said that Maradona even talked to his sick mother, a woman who died the next day; Maradona was his last friend to talk to her, says the Bosnian. Emir actually goes to Buenos Aires, visits bars and brothels, and records too the excesses of Argentines with the Church of Maradona, where we even observe a couple contracting marriage, while they swear undying loyalty to the guidelines to that, if you can call, church and religion; we see the extremes to which "el Diego" is worshiped, is idolized and deified in his homeland, a worship that seems to know no limits.

Indeed the "Pelusa" is more than a celebrity, changing his usual position, Kusturica himself, a personality in his world, the world of cinema, compared to Maradona becomes another paparazzi. And despite the good vibes between them, that does not stop a sequence of Emir waiting for the prior world star outside his home, and getting snubbed because Diego is simply not in good mood. However, is noticeable that the author of the film feels genuine admiration for the man who is the subject of the documentary; Kusturica, coming from a violent land, historically very turbulent political and militarily, seemed to find an affinity in the revolutionary spirit of Diego, and the tremendous pitfall of idiomatic difference is minimized by a loyal translator. While Maradona speaks of the Falklands conflict between his nation and England, Kusturica interrupts the visual narration to insert images of war, probably to reinforce these words of former footballer. All the diverse characters from their environment appear, Evo Morales, Hugo Chavez, Fidel Castro, and of course Diego from the beginning, claiming that George Bush is rubbish, lamenting the lost time with their children because of the drug, everything lost by his addiction to cocaine. And that is a good thing for the film, having empathy, to talk directly with the former world star, generates a closeness that benefits the documentary, speaking Maradona of his pain, his drama, his history. It continues to draw attention the fact this is the latest film in nearly a decade of Kusturica, and despite this being an acceptable and digestible documentary, Promise me this was a strange misstep for the Balkan, and that is his latest film so far. Manu Chao closes the picture singing Life is a tombola to former football star, a decent job is closed, but the prolific and brilliance that Kusturica has always managed in past decades are still missed.

Promise Me This (2007) - Emir Kusturica

Having finiushed Emir Kusturica Life Is a Miracle (2004), a couple of  less-footage works would see the light, a segment of film and a television episode, before three years later the now-comented work would be as well finished. While the picture maintains many of the constants in the cinema of the Bosnian,  it was one of which most criticism earned to the director, and certainly, although not pleasant to recognize for this writer, it is one of the less-quality films of the acclaimed director of Underground. For the first time, always speaking from my perspective of course, we see Kusturica, whose cinema, what he represents, is overwhelmed by the way, the style in which he captures that; this last statement is something that will be detailed in later lines. The film depicts the story of a teenager, in contemporary Bosnia, who lives in a remote village, whose only inhabitants are himself, his grandfather, and the woman teacher at the local school. When the school is closed for lack of students, and grandfather convinces himself he is near death, makes the young fellow promise he will go to the city, will sell his prized cow, and get, among other things, a religious icon and a wife. The story is that, simple, similar in some respects to previous works of the director, but, again, something changes in the Balkan director cinema that makes this film probably the weakest of his creations.

            

From the start, as always in his films, we appreciate much of what we will see throughout the film, the bizarre occurs quickly, with so singular both awakening as having breakfast of Tsane (Uros Milovanovic). The topic, a young man whose life will experience radical change, it is not strange -Gypsy times (1988) executed with impeccable artistic results an alike formula-, but that existential contrast, this change of life will not be represented with sublime skill and mastery. If Arizona Dream (1992) the reason of a certain distance to usual, and certain weaknesses in the picture seemed to be blamed to the change of country and production for Kusturica, now that reason is no longer so clear, or at least seems to be nothing other than a filmmaker who seems to have lost the inspiration, that touch of magic that turns a work of art into something else, something very full of humanity, reality; that apparent loss of inspiration seems as well to presage the significant drop in productivity of the Bosnian, it almost explains this is his latest film in nearly a decade. And, as said, many, or all of his guidelines are in this film -his sharpness, humor, all attenuated-, but it feels a lack of strength between them, a lack of cohesion that in previous pictures made so compact his audiovisual and artistic proposals. This absence of amalgam makes the feature wobbling so much that the film is perceived as a parade of estrangement, of absurdities -usual by the way in the Bosnian-, but all uncoordinated, total weakness and disorder, atypical for an Emir work.

On this Kusturica feature, from the initial instants we nottice that his portraits no longer have the same strength as other times, the strength and power of his characters and situations has declined: the form, exaggerated with no moderation, exceeds and overshadows the background, which portrays itself. Now, for a filmmaker of the caliber and unique orientations as the Bosnian, is nothing unusual that the style, almost always bizarre, noisy, sleazy even, come to overshadow the story, to "mask" (as the director himself has said) the background with both colorful and alienation that almost always exceeds it, in a greater or lesser extent, depending on the palate to savor the film. On this occasion, all of that continues compliance, it is basically a picture with more of the same old Bosnian, however the bizarre and alienation reach levels which in effect accuse the hype that so willingly seem to stir at him his detractors; the force when portraying his people, his gypsies, no longer shines with so strong and determined assertiveness (and we miss so much this form of plot them). Now, since portraying much of the events in the city, away from his usual habitat, the field and those Gypsies whom he loves -and whose human drawings were so effective in other times-, the film by Kusturica seems to sink, seems to lose that link that so naturally and with so much strength filled the screen on other occasions. In the city, without its people, Kusturica style drowns, with no cohesion between his usual extravagance and those city clothes, entertainments in karaoke; they lose force his characters, a lack of rootedness to portray them is noticeable, and his film ends up becoming innocuous, weak, artificial.

A more luminous photography work actually also collaborates the final aesthetics of the picture to be founded with the general atmosphere of it, it feels lighter, more superficial, weaker and with less force than previous occasions with the director. And even music, such a key element in the Balkan other works, seems to collaborate as well with the aforementioned final product; with close-to-rock-and-pop contemporary notes, very differente sounds comparing his previous films, generates too light environment, which, added to the general weakness of the feature, ends up setting a universe without a soul, without a genuine reality behind them, as always used to happen in his best films. This unfortunately even reaches his usual and inevitable surreal touch, this playful but powerful in other opportunities Surrealism is now badly risible when we see an individual flying through the skies for most of the film, or other one being shot, but without thereby interrupting sexual intercourse. Or, much worse, when we see a bulky subject be inflated like a balloon and then sail through the air when deflating (...). Kusturica's films, always prone to excesses, to the absurd and unreal -but somehow all arranged and, although it sounds antagonistic, with a well defined north- , had never reached these extremes. Peeps strongly that accused exaggeration, that hyperbolic caricature-building that no longer generates as much astonishment as fun, but rather strangeness to witness such exercises that approach a cartoon, a children's product. His desire for eccentricity seems to have overpassed him, and certain scenes will generate disbelief. Nobody is perfect.

Elements and political dyes can never be absent in the films of Kusturica, and again we appreciate warm winks to Bosnian old acquaintances. In  his particular style, there's a sort of tribute to Russia, the proud Soviet anthem rings, amid a laughable situation with the young Tsane watching libidinously to Bosa the teacher (Ljiljana Blagojevic, beautiful and then young Dolly Bell when the director debuted) take a bath through a spotting scopes. There is also a nod to the Yankee culture, with Taxi Driver images being witnessed, and mafioso Bajo (Predrag Manojlovic) wanting to build the Balkan twin towers; his love for football, with some joke regarding Ronaldinho, will not be absent either: it certainly is a Kusturica film, but is the less Kusturica of his films. Manojlovic is brought back, his usual actor, and his interpretation, full of exaggerations and histrionic excesses, is one that most feeds the criticism, a source of where drink detractors. Aleksandar Bercek brings greater balance incarnating the hyperactive and false dying grandfather, while Marija Petronijevic also scores as the beautiful Jasna, the epiphanic female of Tsane. Although even "collect" elements of previous films -the turkey from Time of the Gypsies, some melody of the same picture, usual echoes in their filmes-, this work finally can not help being a false step, a setback, as some cruelty has called it; although I do not consider this film a failure, it is definitely his least successful film, with all its gadgets and norths present, but all working with less effect than ever. Kusturica finishes his film with another element very own of him, the wedding, a double wedding, seen with the same sad result than everything else, tasteless and almost puerile, such as how the happy ending comes, as if nothing happens, as the feature itself. Yes, it is a misstep for Kusturica, but a step in false forgivable for a filmmaker who has earned surplus to be a prominent personality in the contemporary film world as he is.