Amid the tearful, slow-moving dramas that dominate events like these it's nice to get a change of pace, especially a few days in. Spanish horror movie 'Dictado', which translates as "dictation" (though the English language title is 'Childish Games'), is that welcome key change and a diverting addition to a so far so inert competition line-up - providing a very different atmosphere and even (whisper it) some semblance of a plot.
It's by no means perfect, taking its sweet time building up to a decent last twenty minutes, but by the time the protagonist goes predictably insane it has become tense and compelling. Written and directed by Antonio Chavarrias, the film follows primary school teacher Daniel (Juan Diego Botto) - a mild-mannered man with a horrific past. Daniel is haunted by the memory of Clara, a young girl who died tragically during a stupid game he and another boy were playing when they were children. Years later the other boy, Clara's brother, has committed suicide after claiming that he has been haunted by his sister, who has been reborn in the body of his daughter Julia (Magica Perez).
Feeling guilt for past events Daniel goes to his late friend's funeral where he meets - and is considerably freaked out by - Julia. Things get worse for Daniel when his compassionate girlfriend (Barbara Lennie) takes pity on the child and offers to become her guardian until a relative can be found. The upshot of this is that Daniel is now living with a girl he believes to be the potentially vengeful reincarnation of Clara. Is the child Clara or Julia? Is she out to get Daniel or not? After several twists and turns these questions are answered in a way which is nearly as pleasing as it is far-fetched.
The first competition film to attract anything like sustained applause from the press at Berlinale Palast this year, Italian entry 'Cesare deve morire' ('Caesar Must Die') follows a group of maximum security inmates - murderers, drug dealers and thieves, many on life sentences - as they put on a prison production of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Directed by brothers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani, it's difficult to define even if the festival catalogue confidently bills it as a straight documentary.
Ostensibly we're given a behind the scenes look at rehearsals (in stylish monochrome) book-ended by footage of the final production (in colour), yet everything is a bit too elegantly staged and composed to make pure documentary a possibility. Use of sophisticated cinematic techniques, such as reverse angle shots, would also be impossible were the film not entirely deliberate. Then there's the inmates themselves who never stray from the frame or go off on conversational tangents that aren't at least of thematic relevance - frequently waxing philosophical about how the text relates powerfully to modern day life.
Are the prisoners at least who they are claimed to be? Bereft of much additional explanation, I honestly don't know - that's one of the problems when faced with reviewing a film in a festival setting. I suspect it's a blend of fact and fiction, purposefully blurring the line between the two. In any case it's a very watchable film which doesn't outstay its welcome over a sensibly short running time.
It's also buoyed by the fact that the various prisoners have entertaining and easily distinguishable personalities, providing equal amounts of laughter and pathos. As the inmates bicker and contemplate their roles, there is also ample time given to the Bard's work itself as we hear Shakespearian language delivered in regional accents - reclaimed from upper class thespians with the effect of revitalising the material. Occasionally the film strains too hard to promote the modern day relevance of the play, but otherwise there is much to recommend it.
All films carry the well-worn disclaimer that they are works of fiction and that any similarities the characters may have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The difference with French kidnap drama 'Coming Home' is that this legal message appears right at the start in big letters, promising the film is entirely the work of its director's unfettered imagination. It's a strange claim to have to make, especially because though the plot bears some similarity to the disturbing case of Austrian Josef Fritzl, there are enough differences to make this opening seem over-cautious - raising the possibility that its makers are actively courting the comparison.
As you may have gathered from the above, Frédéric Videau's 'A Moi Seule' is the story of a social misfit, Vincent (Reda Kateb), who keeps a young girl in a purpose-built basement under his house. Held there for a number of years, Gaelle (a strong central performance from Agathe Bonitzer) grows up in isolation in this subterranean lair with only Vincent for company. Whilst he is at work, or entertaining a colleague, she waits below gagged and bound. Yet unlike the Fritzl case they are not related - Vincent snatched Gaelle in his van after school one day - and Vincent is also initially determined not to take their relationship anywhere physical (in terms of sex or violence). Instead he seems to view Gaelle as someone to talk to, though his motivation is never made explicitly apparent.
The film begins with Vincent releasing Gaelle after years of captivity and, after a moment's hesitation, she runs to the nearest bus stop, seeing an old "missing child" poster of herself on the way home. But, of course, she can't simply go home. Everything has changed. The film is then split between the past and the present, as we see Gaelle's life with Vincent and her fresh incarceration within the grounds of a psychiatric hospital. She visits her (now separated) parents, whose lives have been wrecked by the abduction, but she no longer connects with them. They wish Vincent were dead, but Gaelle is defensive of her captor, with elements of Stockholm syndrome setting in - though, like many of the questions posed by the film, this is never satisfactorily explored.
Much like earlier competition entry 'Today' ('Aujourd'Hui'), 'Coming Home' is a fascinating concept that is frustratingly underserved by the resultant film. It's not brave enough to takes the audience anywhere too unsettling, with even a sexual liaison reduced to insinuation and relegated off-camera, whilst the day-to-day interactions between the duo that dominate never end up anywhere particularly deep or interesting. A film like this needs to either disturb the audience or raise questions about human behaviour. For instance Greek film 'Dogtooth' does both brilliantly, with a stylistic flair and distinctive voice totally missing here.
Satche (Saul Williams) is a relatively young man with no obvious health problems, yet he is going to die. He knows it and, seemingly, so does his entire home town. Apparently, in this part of Senegal, people sense the day before their death that they will soon be taken by god - that the next day will be their last on Earth. And it's a celebrated event, observed by whole the community, with even minor local government officials in attendance.
This is never rationalised or explained, probably because "how" and "why" aren't strictly relevant questions to this movie. 'Today', or 'Aujourd'Hui' in its native French, is really a rumination on what a person does knowing they have one day left. It's about taking stock, finding out what's important and contemplating what comes next. Tradition dictates that Satche wake up in his mother's house, but how he spends the rest of this final day is (appropriately enough) up to him. And he spends it the way you might expect: saying goodbye to family and drinking with friends before settling in at home with his wife and young children. He even tries, in vain, to put right the wrongs of a previous romance.
Parisian director Alain Gomis has made a very sleepy, near dreamlike film with Williams acting as if in a limbo state between life and death. Aside from one vibrant sequence, that sees Satche dance down the street, being showered with presents and serenaded by cheering onlookers, the doomed protagonist is a sedate and mostly silent presence. It makes for a meandering (sometimes boring) feature, albeit with some neatly observed scenes (such as when Satche's relatives discuss his life in the past tense with him in the room, pointing out all his faults) and potentially interesting philosophical moments (at one point he takes tea with his soon-to-be mortician).
Towards the end Gomis plays some interesting games with time and reality, notably as Satche's kids suddenly appear to him as young adults. Has he avoided death by choosing to remain with his family or is this a moment of spiritual closure before death: a sign that everything will turn out ok when he leaves our mortal plane? Yet there aren't enough inspired touches like this to liven up the dominant tone of strained silence.
Set within the walls of Versailles palace in the first days of the French Revolution, this dimly lit, distractingly handheld camera reliant period drama casts the beautiful Lea Seydoux (recently seen as a ruthless assassin in 'Mission: Impossible') as a lady in waiting whose loyalty to Queen Marie Antoinette (Diane Kruger) is unwavering and - equally - unappreciated.
From the perspective of Seydoux's Sidonie, we observe major events at a distance, often from palace windows, as King Louis XVI and his entourage consider their response to the storming of the Bastille - prancing about theatrically in the forecourt, wearing wigs and striking poses only French aristocracy could get away with. Through Sidonie we witness as hysteria grips the palace, but whilst there is much talk of nobles fleeing to the countryside in panic, there is little suggestion that any suspects they are living out the final days of an established order. As though this is the whim of a mob who will see sense.
For instance, Sidonie and her friends are still harassed to perform their most frivolous duties for indulgent masters. For her part, she's continually being pestered to deliver an embroidered pattern demanded by the queen - though her majesty has other things on her mind, having fallen deeply in love with a lady of the court who treats her with a level of disdain to which she is unaccustomed.
To see the monarch treated so casually is scandalous to Sidonie: a woman who has sacrificed not only her life but also any sense of personal identity in order to remain close to Marie Antoinette. Though whether this affection is sexual is left entirely ambiguous. What's not in doubt is that the spoiled, self-absorbed queen does not hold Sidonie in the same affection, ultimately seeing the girl as another instrument of her will.
This is a very different picture of Marie Antoinette than that we are used to seeing, with context given for why she was so despised by her people, beyond jealousy at her decadence. Here we are given insight into her political dealings as she leads a political faction within the palace who wish to crush the rebellion at the earliest stages, proposing use of a mercenary army against the people of Paris. My knowledge of French history isn't enough to say with any certainly how accurate this is, but it's certainly a more compelling portrait of this divisive figure than is provided by the oft-cited and likely apocryphal "let them eat cake!"
Director Benoit Jacquot emphasis the size of the palace through shots of Sidonie running (and frequently tripping over herself) down seemingly endless corridors. Despite living on the grounds, she is always late for work (where she acts as a reader for the Queen) - again suggesting the palace as its own vast world, detached from the reality of life in nearby Paris. It's a house of whispered rumours in which the impending terror appears closer to a scandal than an epoch-defining moment in history. That we know differently amplifies the absurdity of much of what goes on, though the film seldom plays this disconnect as satire - a contributing factor in why this sporadically interesting melodrama struggles to hold your attention and fades quickly from memory.
I'm heading off to Berlin for this year's film festival in the early hours of tomorrow morning, where I'll be watching 20-30 films and writing pieces for the Daily Telegraph. Whilst there I'll also record a podcast or two with Jon and Craig, who are going as part of the "industry" (basically they are seeing all the films but don't have to write anything about them).
Though the festival doesn't start officially until the 9th, tomorrow night there is a preview screening of Werner Herzog's second death row documentary - entitled 'Death Row' - which I'm very much looking forward to. There's also a lot of interesting films in the competition, including 'Shadow Dancer' from James Marsh and an interesting French-Philippine drama called 'Captured', about some holiday makers who get taken hostage. I also like the sound of Billy Bob Thornton's ensemble family drama 'Jane Mansfield's Car'. There's also a European premiere for Oscar nominee 'Extreme Loud and Incredibly Close'.
But as with all festivals the best movies will probably emerge from unlikely places and be directed by people I've never heard of.
I'll do my level best to keep this blog updated whilst I'm away, though these things can be chaotic and I'll already likely have a lot of work to do. If you don't hear from me for two weeks then you can expect a huge backlog of reviews to start trickling in from when I return on the 20th.
They haven't been in a major film or television series since the mid-90s, but arguably Jim Henson's best-loved creations haven't been culturally relevant for much longer. Yet in 'The Muppets', the characters' glorious comeback movie, this passing of time that might have been a concern (at least for marketing folks at Disney) has proven to be an asset. The Muppets have always broken the fourth wall to poke fun at themselves and comment on the artifice of whatever they're doing, but here Kermit, Miss Piggy and co show an awareness of that faded glory that's the driving force behind the story and much pathos.
In this James Bobin directed musical comedy, co-writer Jason Segel stars as Gary, whose younger brother Walter is a Muppet in all but name. When Gary decides to take his girlfriend Mary (the graceful and effervescent Amy Adams) out of Smalltown and on a romantic holiday to Los Angeles, he brings Walter, a lifelong Muppet fan, in order to give him the chance to visit the famous Muppet theatre. Upon visiting the derelict theatre, Walter is horrified to learn that the evil Tex Richman (Chris Cooper) is planning to buy up the property in order to drill for oil. Walter and Gary then decide to round up the Muppets in order to perform the comeback show that could save their legacy.
Rather than straining to sell the relevance of our heroes to today's kids, this new film rolls with the idea that the Muppets (who include a 70s-style rock act, an Evel Knievel wannabe and a Catskills comic) are indelibly wedded to a bygone era. When Rashida Jones' sharp-suited television executive tells Kermit he needs a celebrity host in order to get the gang a new TV special, the frog delves into his contact book and calls the White House, only to be informed that Jimmy Carter has changed address. In his mansion Kermit is served New Coke by his butler: 80s Robot - very much yesterday's vision of tomorrow. He also struggles to recognise any current celebrities, instead making moribund references to former Muppet Show guests stars like Dom DeLuise. During a cleaning montage the Muppets play a cassette of Starship's "We Built This City" for inspiration.
There is something poignant about all this, especially as Kermit spends much of the film full of regret that he has (like the rest of us) spent the last few years losing touch with his fellow Muppets. This foregrounding of the Muppets as fallen icons is more than just a neat post-modern joke, it also serves to imbue the characters with a kind of purity. As Kermit sings his 1979 classic "Rainbow Connection" we're given a powerful reminder of a less jaded time, yet they are never twee no matter how earnest the sentiment. This straight-faced niceness is exactly why the Muppets seem ideally placed to provide infectious optimism lacking in today's entertainment. Their sworn enemy is cynicism - as embodied in the film by a crass, "edgy" tribute act, "The Moopets" (who Richman champions as "a hard, cynical act for a hard, cynical world").
The film isn't content to trade solely on nostalgia and old-time good feeling though, even if it could probably just about get away with that. There are loads of inspired sight gags, clever one-liners and, best of all, a few infectious song and dance numbers written by Bret McKenzie of 'Flight of the Conchords'. Of these my favourites are the upbeat loneliness empowerment anthem "Me Party", sung with gusto by Adams and Miss Piggy, and the Oscar-nominated ballad "Man or Muppet" - a duet between Gary and Walter.
There are long stretches where it's difficult to imagine how the film might appeal to young children - along with the anachronistic pop culture references are celebrity cameos from the likes of Sarah Silverman and Alan Arkin. Kids aren't the primary audience and - with the script brimming with nods to minor characters and scenes from the first movies, it's probably a more rewarding experience for fans. But even if you don't quite fit that category I still reckon it'd be nearly impossible to watch 'The Muppets' without a smile on your face the majority of the time. Life is indeed a happy song.
'The Muppets' is released in the UK on February 10th and has been rated 'U' by the BBFC.
A former freelance film journalist based in Brighton, I have written contributions to The Daily Telegraph and several websites, provided occasional analysis for BBC Radio Sussex and Radio Reverb, and recently I've been involved with several volumes published by Intellect Books.
I've also written about video games for GamesIndustry.biz.
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