Le Passé (The Past)

An anxious Marie (Berenice Bejo) arrives at the airport, picking up her estranged husband Ahmad (Ali Mosaffa) so that they can finalise their divorce. She spots him, a hint of bittersweet acknowledgement adorns her face, she moves closer to him but finds a soundproof wall dividing the pair. No matter; she gestures to another, they get his attention and after a few gestures, they're on their way, running to her car and out of the rain. However, a number of walls remain built up around Marie, and they follow her everywhere she dares to go.

Le Passé (The Past) is Asghar Farhadi's follow-up to the unanimously praised A Separation, a film which claimed almost every Foreign Film award you can imagine in 2011. And knowing he struck a winning formula, Farhadi sticks with what he knows, invoking a number of the same themes in this piece, a brilliantly-told narrative surrounding Marie and the relationships in her life.

Farhadi moves out of his native Iran for this piece, instead setting  the film in France; a change of culture perhapps, but certainly not of the human condition. Loss, change, separation; they are all still pertinent issues in Le Passé. We see Marie take Ahmad back to a house they shared four years earlier before he left, but now Marie's new partner Samir (Tahar Rahim) and his son Fouad (Elyes Aguis) have moved in, and with it, a number of other issues as well.

As always, Farhadi's treatment of the narrative is as objective as possible; he allows his audience to view the situation from as many perspectives as possible and without trying to impart any judgment. This lends itself to the ensemble being able to enjoy an exceptional level of freedom within their performances, and this leads to great accomplishment throughout. Bejo is particularly exceptional as lead Marie, a woman who is struggling with moving on, hampered down by her past as well as the history of the other characters in her life. Rahim is also tragically wonderful as her new partner, whose truth the whole film centres around. As the film progresses, the audience are exposed to new information surrounding his past, and the revelations are handled as well by Rahim as they are by the wonderfully-written screenplay. Pauline Burlet is also great as Marie's eldest daughter Lucie.

The narrative here unfolds masterfully, with Farhadi balancing all these perspectives whilst allowing the film to reach boiling point slowly, washing just enough over his audience to keep them hooked. The only criticism I could level at the film is that by the end, it isn't as tight as it was at the start, perhaps because it offers too much of a slow boil, or potentially because it is so level-handed. Nonetheless, the powerful ensemble maintain such a stronghold on the material, and the power in the story never fades; the film never becomes tedious, it remains as commanding as ever. The camerawork is as imposing as ever, and its scope allows the audience to remain very much involved in the action without ever losing the equal-handedness that Farhadi wants throughout.

Farhadi has created another wonder here; Le Passé is an incredibly well-written, beautifully told story of how we can never entirely get away from our past. This resounding idea is brilliantly captured by Farhadi and his ensemble, and its cogent focus on this never wavers. The human frailty in a way only Farhadi can tell it: vividly, skilfully, brilliantly.

Sarah Polley's 'Stories We Tell'

"When you are in the middle of a story it isn't a story at all, but only a confusion." - Margaret Atwood.

Sarah Polley's career has hardly been orthodox. A young Canadian actress who attained her popularity through a burgeoning  television career, she hit the big time with a role in Atom Egoyan's 1997 Academy Award-nominated The Sweet Hereafter. With the odd exception (namely her roles in 1999's Go and 2004's Dawn of the Dead), her acting career often saw her escaping the attention of the mainstream Hollywood machine, whilst still developing an exceptional resume for herself and continuing to maintain the attention of Canada's film industry (the highlight being an award-winning turn in 2003's My Life Without Me).

However, in 2007, things took a unique turn; the then-28 year old churned out her feature film-making debut, the ethereal Away From Her. This, a film about an aged couple dealing with the onset of Alzheimer's disease, saw both Polley and her lead actress, Julie Christie, nominated for Academy Awards, and became one of the most critically-acclaimed films of the year. 2012 saw the release of her follow-up, Take This Waltz, and barely a year later we see the release of her third feature - and her first doco - Stories We Tell.

Stories We Tell is another exceptional knot on the talented actress/writer/director's belt. It unravels a number of truths by providing detailed insight into the relationships of the Polley family, particularly focusing on the relationship between the filmmaker's mother and father. One may think this is a peculiar concept for a film - I know I certainly was hesitant at the idea - but the execution here is brilliant. What appears to be a film of modest scope quickly becomes an ever-expansive and incredibly philosophical adventure, exploring a vast array of topics such as the ownership of a story, the concept of truth, the nature of the memory and familial love.

There is an intricate beauty which Polley achieves, something reminiscent of her first effort; the natural, touching way in which the film weaves its narrative thread about is indicative of an extraordinary insight of the art form. She is so capable of affecting her audience, she knows just how to hit the spot (the use of Super-8 footage throughout is such a powerful tool, as is her father's narration)

and she does so with ease here. The structure of the film further allows Polley to manoeuvre her audience effectively, powerfully capturing the various tones of her story and allowing them to permeate in an organic way across the whole film. The film is truly all about perspective, and Polley considers that thoroughly in providing her messages to the audience. There is such an equally-handed, balanced way that she provides her narrative, and the fractures of the narrative are such a vivid core to the piece; I daresay even the vivid core to the film.

Something else which should also be noted is the way in which watching this film will affect the way its audience thinks about Polley's other work; certainly, a number of the themes explored in her two previous releases are brought to the forefront here and, when taken in light of both Take This Waltz and especially Away From Her, the shattering realisation of our filmmaker's truth is beautifully tragic.

Stories We Tell is extraordinarily brave, beautiful and brilliant art from Sarah Polley, and as a documentary piece, its insight is incredible. Its philosophies will embed themselves into your consciousness, its narratives will invade your heart and its beauty will be entrenched in your mind for days. A truly superb piece of cinema.

The Way, Way Back

Writing buddies Jim Rash and Nat Faxon co-wrote highly-praised Alexander Payne film The Descendants, which helped take both of them to the Oscar stage to collect the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. Fast forward two years and Faxon and Rash make their directorial debut in the Summer film that can, should and (hopefully) will have everybody laughing their heads off whilst feeling like they're a part of the story themselves.

The Way, Way Back is a hilarious joyride from our writer/director team, telling the story of young Duncan (Liam James from TV's The Killing), a 14 year old being dragged against his will to spend the Summer at a beach house with his recently-divorced mom Pam (Toni Collette), her new boyfriend Trent (Steve Carell in a very different role for our perennial funny man) and his bratty daughter Steph (Zoe Levin). We instantly learn just why this new arrangement is so uncomfortable for Duncan, and from there the audience follows Duncan in his pursuit to try and make something of his Summer.

This is an ensemble film through and through, and is one of those films that could potentially make its way through to our Oscar season by the strength of the ensemble alone. Allison Janney is a scene-stealer as the always-loaded neighbour Betty, and Sam Rockwell is excellent as Duncan's Summer buddy Owen, both of whom light-up the scene the second they step on camera. Collette isn't given much to do for the first half of the film, but when called on, she is always excellent; as previously mentioned Carell plays a role outside his usual territory, and he does the unlikeable Trent absolute justice. AnnaSophia Robb, Maya Rudolph, Rash himelf and River Alexander all should be commended for their smaller but important contributions to the film as well, and Duncan himself is absolutely terrific as our eyes to the story.

The writing itself, much like Betty, is loaded too, and the only criticism I could perhaps give it is that it is too much so; I was too busy laughing at the last joke before I could hear the next. Some of the jokes did fall slightly flat, but that doesn't take away from the gold it does establish. At times it did feel slightly forced, but once again, the genius is still there for the most part. The great thing about the film is that the jokes never detract from the realistic and believable plot, which truly does tug at hearts harder than an attack, and by the end, both Rash and Faxon will have you eating out of their hands. It's Little Miss Sunshine meets Adventureland, but it truly takes the best of both to create what is a beautiful and funny comedy.

The Way, Way Back is a brilliant piece of writing with an ensemble to die for. I would find it hard to imagine any other film being the little comedy that could this year, and it's certainly a huge improvement on Rash and Faxon's previous Oscar-winning effort, with a far more convincing and on-tone screenplay which they direct well. This is the Summer comedy to check out; it will have you laughing and crying with almost equal measure, and the ending will melt your heart.

The Paperboy

It is 1969, and the air carries with it a thick, burning hot stench in Moat County, Florida. The locals would tell you it comes from the nearby swamp land, but Zac Efron would implore us to believe otherwise. He can smell something burning far deeper and closer to home, as if the devil has torn open the earth and exposed his world to the soiled depths of Hell.

Lee Daniels’ The Paperboy is a film full of an immoral undercurrent, seething in filth but never becoming jammed down by it; if anything, it is all the more compelling because of it. His adoration for the underlayers of society lives on in his follow-up to his Academy Award-winning masterpiece Precious. That was a world devoid of innocence, and this is much the same.

Hillary Van Wetter (John Cusack) has recently been sentenced to death for the murder of a local sheriff and now sits on death row awaiting execution. Whilst in custody, letters have been exchanged between he and the lusciously carnal Charlotte Bless (Nicole Kidman), and a tempestuous, lust-fuelled interchange ignites between the two. After several letters, Charlotte decides to write to a local and well known journalist from the Miami Times, Ward Jansen (Matthew McConaughey), about the innocence of Van Wetter, and soon Ward and his writing partner Yardley (David Oyelowo) visit Moat County to investigate a story centring on the assorted injustices faced by Van Wetter during his murder trial. The pair hire Ward’s brother Jack, played by Zac Efron in the film’s titular role, to act as a driver for their investigations, and soon the three and Charlotte are very much embroiled in a quest to remedy these injustices and set things right.

The film isn’t without its flaws; the plot is sometimes messy, and certainly there is some power lost in the subtext because of it; but nonetheless, it is an exceedingly well-made noir with rich social commentary on racism, homophobia and discrimination. Not only that, but the ensemble is extremely strong; Kidman is the highlight, with her deliciously ripe portrayal of the beautifully dirty sexpot that is Charlotte; the multidimensional qualities she gives Charlotte, bestowing her with both hellish torment and an angelic touch, are an obvious testament to her insanely strong abilities, and she manages a performance few could achieve in such a role, something so far removed from the personality bequeathed on her by the mass media.

 

Cusack gives a refreshingly gritty and solid performance as Van Wetter, serving the material well, and McConaughey tops of a tremendous year by providing a rich and layered portrayal of Ward. Macy Gray is well used as our narrator Anita, and finally Efron affords the audience a vivid depiction of the lack of innocence, as our most unspoilt protagonist makes his way through the scungy depths of this world where everyone has something to hide and where the truth seems very much submerged beneath the sweat-soaked stench emanating from the ground (or swamp) up.

Beneath the trashy setting is far more than one would expect; an opulent tale of a time not so far gone, and Lee Daniels does a sensational job recreating this world. You can feel the heat in the air, the stench fills your lungs; the nightmare rolls on and on in this foul land, and that’s the way it ought to be. No place for the innocent indeed.