Cairo TV & DVD
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Rust and Bone: Award-Winning French Drama
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The Intouchables: Touching Drama of Oddball Friendship
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The Master: Fragilities of the Human Mind
He could have been the next Bob Dylan; in South Africa, Zimbabwe, New Zealand and Australia, he was even bigger than Elvis. His music was loved by the critics but ignored by audiences, and after two albums – titled Cold Fact and Coming From Reality – fell on deaf ears in the US, and his efforts proved commercially fruitless, the Detroit street-poet instantaneously fell from the face of the earth, vanishing into complete obscurity. So, whatever happened to the talented and disturbingly underrated Detroit-born 70's soul-folk musician, Sixto Diaz Rodriguez? That's a question first-time Swedish filmmaker, Malik Bendjelloul, seeks answers to in one of the most compelling and touching music documentaries of the past decade. Ingeniously titled, Searching for Sugar Man, the story takes us to South Africa where we learn that while Rodriguez never managed to find the artistic and marketable success in the US, his music – thanks to the bootlegging of his first album, Cold Fact – ended up playing a significant role in the apartheid-era. Rodriguez became the voice of the people despite governmental efforts to censor his record's 'offending' tracks; and for many years, he never even knew it. With only a few pictures of Rodriguez available as proof that he really does exist, his devoted fans never really knew much about their beloved idol. Bizarre rumours surfaced alleging that he had committed suicide onstage during one of his failed performances, either by shooting himself or by setting himself on fire. Rodriguez's legacy never died, even after the struggling apartheid years were long over. Often referred to as the 'prophet of the people', devoted fans, Segerman and Strydom, set out to undertake research, only to discover that their search only marked the beginning of something greater than initially imagined. Well paced and cinematically striking, the film doesn’t fall back on simple on-camera interviews and narration, but rather, Bendjelloul adds a sense of intrigue and beauty using an evidently thought-out structure to his storytelling. Dazzling shots of Cape Town's skyline and striking animatics of Rodriguez walking the streets of his hometown play a big part in the story development; as a result there isn't one dull moment. Rodriguez's songs play throughout the entire film and there is no denying the fact that this man – who was constantly compared to the likes of Dylan and Donovan – was unjustly disregarded. His soulful tracks and profound lyrics score the film and even though there is a sense of melancholy, the story still manages to find room for the positive, ultimately proving that it's never too late to fulfil your dreams. Searching for Sugar Man is a truly fine documentary and a significant work of art. Although we would have liked to see a little bit more of the live-concert footage, and perhaps gotten to know a little bit more about what's hiding beneath the dark mysterious exterior, Searching for Sugar Man is still highly insightful and thoroughly entertaining.
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Loosely adapted from a stage play, Beasts of the Southern Wild marks a collective debut for writer-director Benh Zeitlin and co-writer Lucy Alibar. The result of the combined the efforts of a relatively inexperienced crew and a group of amateur actors – including a Louisiana-born baker – is unexpected, pure and most of all, a remarkable work of art. Beasts of the Southern Wild is a magically lifelike fable about poverty, bravery and, above all, tough love. It's a film of its own kind and is without a doubt nothing like we've ever seen before. Set in the future and situated around a deprived coastal area in Louisiana – which the locals proudly refer to as ‘the Bathtub' – the story of Beasts is told through the eyes of six-year old girl, Hushpuppy (Wallis). ‘The Bathtub' is not a pleasant place; the land is scattered with pigs, dogs and chickens and with her mother long gone, Hushpuppy has been left in the hands of her drunken, ailing father, Wink (Henry). The two don't share a home; they live in separate, makeshift abodes made of tin, cardboard and plastic. Captivated by all the nature around her, Hushpuppy believes that everything in the universe is interconnected and that everyone, no matter how small, plays a part in the bigger picture. While her father is busy drinking his sorrows away, Hushpuppy is left to fend for herself. Before long, a major storm threatens the area and its locals, but instead of running for the hills, most of them – including Wink and Hushpuppy – stay behind and fight the storm. What unfolds is a journey of survival and penetrating paternal love, and as her father sinks deeper into his sickness, Hushpuppy is left to fight-off prehistoric aurochs – ancient beasts from the Ice Age – which are slowly closing in on her community. Everything about Beasts of the Southern Wild is sublime. Therefore, it's no surprise that it has been picking up awards left and right, while it continues to be a commanding presence at this year's film festivals. Beasts of the Southern Wild doesn't hold back one bit; it's in-your-face, ragged reality is relentless and the story is outstandingly authentic. Fantastical and unburdened by the pressure and requirements of average plot lines, Beasts is quite happy humming to its own tune. However, the film’s secret weapon lies in the hands of its leading lady. Exuding toughness and mind-boggling sincerity, little Miss Wallis is resounding. Her lack of experience poses no problem for the talented youngster; she is raw, captivating and manages to bring amazing intensity and personality to the role. Henry is equally commendable; he too has no previous experience in front of the camera and yet still manages to deliver a ferocious performance filled with immense sincerity. Emotionally honest and at times extremely uncomfortable, Beasts of the Southern Wild is an unassuming film with a powerful message.
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Following his successful breakthrough comedy-drama, In Bruges (2008), writer-director Martin McDonagh is reunited with Irish bad-boy, Collin Farrell, for another crack at dark comedy. Seven Psychopaths follows struggling Irish screenwriter, Marty (Farrell), who is experiencing every writer's nightmare – a severe case of writer's block. So far, he's only got the working title for his next film project worked out – Seven Psychopaths – but, the rest of the story isn’t so forthcoming. With nothing but a few measly ideas scribbled on scraps of paper, Marty's personal hell soon sees the writer sinking deeper and deeper into anxiety and alcoholism. He finds encouragement in his best-bud Billy (Rockwell), who along with his partner-in-crime, Hans (Walken), makes his living in the dog-pinching business. Unfortunately, stealing dogs from their wealthy owners – and later returning them for the reward money – goes awry when Billy nabs a dog belonging to murderous gangster, Charlie (Harrelson). Before long, the fictional story of Seven Psychopaths – the one Marty has been struggling to bring to life – becomes real and the careworn writer soon begins to live right in the middle of his own story. Set in the seedy Hollywood hills, before moving on to the Californian desert, Seven Psychopaths is presented as a film about making a film, when in actual fact, it's a film about not making a film; the obstacles to success are not overcome and there is no triumphant final act bringing all of the elements together. Although the story's unusual premise offers a few rather amusing moments, there isn’t much else to hold onto. Seven Psychopaths also feels a little too self-conscious and restrained. McDonagh – just like his central character – has some serious struggles of his own; a lot of the sequences feel forced and after a banging start, the film loses momentum and withers away as it gets lost in its own self-referential pseudo-philosophy. The film furthers its suffering by not taking full advantage of its star-studded Hollywood cast. Cameos from Tom Waits and Harry Dean Stanton are completely wasted and Rockwell's verbal diarrhoea is a little too much to take. On a positive note, Farrell has no problem in nailing the good-for-nothing drunk, while Harrelson and Walken deliver like the pros they are. On the whole, Seven Psychopaths is meta-gangster film wannabe – if even that. Over-written and a little too aware of itself, the film never develops into anything more than an occasionally amusing mishmash. What starts of as an intricate narrative descends into absurdity very quickly.
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Woody Allen's love-affair with Europe is not over quite yet; the quirky director chooses yet another European city backdrop for his latest cinematic creation. Taking into consideration the director's previous efforts outside of his beloved New York, To Rome with Love is essentially his weakest productions to date. However, despite its clumsy and unrefined approach, To Rome with Love is still a bubbly delight. Hayley (Pill) and Michelangelo (Parenti), an American tourist and a handsome Rome resident, meet, fall in love and soon after become engaged; an a occasion brings Hayley's parents, Phyllis (Davis) and Jerry (Allen) over from New York. Her father, a retired Opera director who is restless in his new lifestyle – regularly comparing it to death – soon becomes obsessed with Michelangelo's father, Giancarlo (Armiliato); a happy-go-lucky undertaker with a hidden talent. In a different stand of the story, successful American architect John (Baldwin) returns to Rome to relive his young adulthood years where he meets a young architect-student Jack (Eisenberg). Jack is living with his girlfriend Sally (Gerwig), who complicates matters when she decides to bring in her flighty and alluring best-friend Monica (Page) for the summer. Another side plot is of Antonio (Tiberi) and Milly (Mastronardi); a newlywed couple visiting Rome for their honeymoon. Things gets messy for the young lovers when Antonio accidentally encounters haughty prostitute, Anna (Cruz), while trying to impress his snotty relatives for a possible job promotion, while Milly gets up to adventures of her own while lost in search of a hair salon. Finally, there is Leopoldo (Benigni); a working-class family man who one day awakens to find that he's become famous, for no apparent reason. With reporters following his every move, Leopoldo becomes one of the most famous men in Italy. While To Rome with Love doesn't spark in the same way that Allen's best does, each storyline still holds a certain glow and light heartedness that makes it hard not to love and appreciate the director's efforts. Allen never bothers to bring in the storylines together; they each play out to their own whimsical beat and the idea that all four of the scenarios could be happening in the course of one day, week or a month poses no real obstruction.The film's major problem is that it ultimately doesn't give each of the stories enough attention to fully develop. It seems a case of too much to say, not enough time to say it, and the script often wanders into incoherence and pointless noise.But To Rome with Love is redeemed by its wonderful cast; Allen, Davis and Benigni provide the best laughs and are an absolute privilege and joy to watch on screen. The rest of the ensemble – apart from Page who was critically miss-cast in the role of a 'seductive' best-friend – are proficient at best as necessary cogs in the machinery of the film Neither here nor there, To Rome with Love shows us the lighter side of the otherwise highly neurotic and pessimistic director; reminding us that he too is capable of looking at the brighter side of life.
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"Film is twenty-four lies per second at the service of truth, or at the service of the attempt to find the truth" – Michael Haneke. This is just one of many sharp-witted quotes from the extremely gifted Austrian-born screenwriter and director, Michael Haneke. The filmmaker is famous for speaking the truth and nothing but the truth – or at least his own adaption of it. His distinguished style often portrays deeply disturbing imagery, most frequently played out in his uninviting worlds of modern society. Brutal honesty seems to be the focal point in his latest feature, Amour: a compelling story of love, partnership and loss – which Haneke delivers through a quietly stirring work of art. Georges (Trintignant) and Anne (Riva) have enjoyed decades of marriage and now, as retired musicians, share a comfortable and undisrupted life in their upscale Parisian apartment. The devoted couple are first seen attending a concert; the y still hold hands and shower each other with the sincerest of compliments and the love they share, even after all the years together, is evident and never needs to be overstated. Unfortunately, their happy coexistence soon reaches a grinding halt when, one morning over a cosy breakfast, Anne suffers a stroke. This quiet, and yet very disturbing, scene is only the start of a physical and mental decline which sees her life partner deteriorating alongside her as he desperately tries to keep his promise of not admitting her to a hospital. Haneke has structured the film so that viewers are locked in the apartment alongside Georges and Anne – which is where almost the entire film plays out. Their own personal hell is overpowering there’s nowhere to run. Haneke doesn't hold back in his depiction of Anne's deterioration; her loss of motor functions and language, increased immobility and dementia are vivid, moving and at times, highly distressing. In spite of everything, the couple's long-standing love is unwavering and strong. It soon becomes very clear that they only have each other – regardless of all the pity, sympathy and support received from both family and friends. The towering performances are what make this story such a profound experience. Both Riva and Trintignant are on top of their game and infuse an incredible amount of integrity to their characters. Riva's physical deformation is astonishing and Trintignant's quiet suffering and emotional turmoil is touching. Amour is unsentimental yet full of love and weighty compassion. Extra handkerchiefs are highly recommended.
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To be deprived and suppressed from doing something that you love is always a difficult challenge to face. This notion becomes especially difficult in the world of music, art, writing and filmmaking. To be prevented from creating and sharing one’s work with the world is every artist's nightmare and no one knows this better than the Iranian director Jafar Panahi. During the disputed Iranian presidential elections in 2009, Panahi, along with several other filmmakers – who supported the anti-Ahmadinejad protests – wanted to make the oppression of the new regime public. Soon, they were detained, beat up and later on released. A year later, vague charges of making an anti-government film followed, sentencing the talented director to six years of house-arrest and enforcing a twenty-year ban from making films.This Is Not a Film documents one day in the life of the director during his house-arrest whilst he awaits news regarding his drawn-out legal appeal. Panahi's modern Tehran apartment plays as a backdrop to the story where everything and nothing happens. An insider's look into the daily routine of the filmmaker sees him drinking too many cups of tea, watching TV, watering the plants, talking on the phone to his family and feeding his daughter's pet Iguana – no script, no special effects, no soundtrack. He re-visits some of his past work by watching them on DVD, all while talking to a good-friend and a fellow director Mirtahmasb – who stays behind the camera the entire time. He then shifts the mood and starts reading from a script he wrote for a film that he never got the chance to make. This Is Not a Film has no beginning, middle or finish; a story without star-crossed lovers, heroes or moments of epiphany. Yes, all of the customary elements are absent from this production and yet, the story still manages to have a commanding presence. It is a tale of both courage and ingenuity which focuses on the importance of speaking out during times of oppression. Panahi's desperation is evident – especially when he frantically tries to convey the events of the film he was banned from making – and his urge to create is both inspiring and heartbreaking. Jafar Panahi, one of Iran's most influential filmmakers, is a true inspiration. This Is Not a Film really isn’t a film; it's so much more.
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If you had the pleasure of viewing the incredibly entertaining indie-darling, Tiny Furniture (2010), then you already know who and what Lena Dunham is all about. Written and directed by Dunham, who also starred as the lead, Tiny Furniture's story of a fresh graduate who struggles to find her on place in the world is endearing. Never inviting her audience to fall in love with her straight, Dunham does invite viewers to find pieces of themselves in her own journey of self-discovery. Produced by Judd Apatow, Girls tells a similar story of four twenty-somethings finding their way through that gruelling game called life. Hannah Horvath (Dunham) is a relative newbie to New York, where she has relocated to make it as a writer. Her world is turned upside down when her parents cut her off financially in an act of tough love. Hannah's emotionally abusive relationship with the sex-addict pseudo-boyfriend, Adam (Driver), provides some relief and escape, but provides just as much heartbreak. Best-friend and roommate, Marnie (Williams), is an art gallery assistant who, unlike Hannah, is more grounded and driven, although she struggles to maintain her stale, long-term relationship with her overly-nice college beau, Charlie (Abbott). Old friend Jessa (Kirke) has just arrived in the Big Apple after years of jumping from continent to continent, and has proclaimed herself as a 'citizen of the world'. Always out on a quest for a new thrill, the bohemian Brit's carefree nonchalance often lands her, and her friends, in trouble. . Jessa's cousin, Shoshanna (Mamet), is a twenty-something virgin who constantly compares herself and other women to the Sex and the City character types. With a vocabulary filled with lots of un-ironic‘like’, ‘totes’ and ‘shut up’, her perceived innocence and straight-laced personality makes her just as peculiar as the others. Naturally, the show has been frequently compared to Sex and the City, which is ok, because Girls was conceived as Sex and the City for the next generation. More grounded in its storytelling, this is a show that is blunt, real and makes no pretensions about women. Girls offers a more realistic portrayal of friendship, love and day-to-day struggles. All of the characters are relatable and genuine, while Dunham's writing infuses even the most tragic scenarios wit and humour. Her dysfunctional relationship with Adam, for example, seems doomed from the start, but at times retains a sincere warmth that builds an empathy for her eccentric love interest. Acting-wise, Dunham shines in what seems to be a semi-autobiographical role of Hannah, while the rest of the foursome are able to deliver versatile performances that never caricaturise their their character's ambitions and fears. Although the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree in relation to Tiny Furniture, Dunham's raw, unfiltered, de-glamorised approach is refreshing – at least for now. But for the time being, Girls is a show like no other; outspoken, raw and terribly entertaining.
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With his exceptionally unique style and approach, Wes Anderson is often described as one of the quirkiest and unconventional filmmakers around. His carefully constructed worlds host some of the most peculiar characters of contemporary film, all of who tend to spend their time coming to terms with their own versions of the truth. The customary deadpan dialogue, the exquisite set designs and the slightly tilted realities is what Anderson's work is all about. His latest feature – the whimsical and sweet-natured Moonrise Kingdom – demonstrates that his methods, as some have suggested, have not yet expired. The year is 1965, and New Penzance – a fictional island off the coast of New England – is home to troubled pre-teens Sam Shakusky (Gilman) and Suzy Bishop (Hayward). On one side of the island there is Sam; a troubled orphan and a skilful 'Khaki Scout' who is attending a summer camp led by Scout Master Ward (Norton). On the other side there is Suzy; a sombre girl who is agitated and often misunderstood by her jaded parents, Laura (McDormand) and Walter (Murray). The two meet at a local production of 'Noye's Fludde' (Noah's Ark) and quickly become pen pals, eventually making a secret pact to meet the following summer and run off together into the wild. Finding solace in each other's sufferings – and driven by the mutual desire to leave their somewhat harsh realities behind – the star-crossed lovers do just that. Their disappearance sets off an island-wide search, led by sympathetic local sheriff, Captain Sharp (Willis) and the Scout Master Ward, who is followed by the rest of the Boy Scouts. With a storm quickly approaching, time is of the essence. The hunt for the young runaways proves tricky for the adults, leading them to call out on ‘Social Services’ (Swinton) to lend a helping hand. Meanwhile, Sam and Suzy, completely oblivious to what is going on around them, set up camp by the shore and start fantasising about their future together. The story is simple, and over time turns into so much more. Anderson's attention to detail is, as always, exquisite. A brilliant opening sequence immediately lets you know that you're about to enter the world only Wes Anderson can create. The trademark locked-down framing, the repressively tidy set design and the meticulous costumes are all in attendance. However, it's not all about the visuals and carefully selected props this time around. The story is firmly planted in the hands of the children, rather than the adults. The audience gets drawn into a world where the innocence of young love knows no boundaries and it ultimately serves as an inspiration to the relatively flawed adults. As for the score, Anderson turns to mid-twentieth century English composer, Benjamin Britten. The composer's grand orchestral arrangements are boosted by Alexandre Desplat's original score. A carefully created soundtrack, which demands the acknowledgment of its presence at all times, never distracts the viewer from the story; it only adds to the experience. The casting of Moonrise Kingdom couldn't have been better. Murray – a regular tenant in Anderson's pictures – is as affecting as always, while the role of a passive-aggressive Laura, a wife whose carelessness eventually catches up with her, is a perfect fit for McDormand. Norton and Willis show a rare vulnerable side and Swinton brings elegance to the role of the cold and corporate ‘Social Services'. The narration, provided by a scruffy-looking Bob Balaban, is an exceptional addition. However, it's the debuting kids that walk away with the highest praise. Gilman's unsmiling face speaks in loud tones and Hayward's interpretation of a young girl falling in love for the first time is nothing short of a marvel. The lightheartedness and affection devoted to the story is palpable and the more refined and deepened approach makes Moonrise Kingdom one of Anderson's best works since the triumph of 1998's Rushmore.
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Alan (Sandvig) and Ben (Ritter) are two best friends and housemates who make a living stealing cars from grieving family members at graveyards. When they rent out the house next door to them to Lynette (Preston), a single mother, they find their lives intertwining with her son, Kelsey (Canterbury), whose rough childhood and neglect at the hands of his mother, bring back memories of their own difficult childhoods.Sandvig, in addition to starring in the film, also had a hand in writing it. Despite this, his character is far less interesting than either Ritter’s or Hall’s. Part of it is that he doesn’t have either their screen presence or their acting skills; another is that his character, like the film as a whole, isn’t fleshed out enough. The first half focuses far too much on Kelsey and Lynette and not enough on say, Rebecca Hall who plays Alan’s sister Mel. In fact, the film in general is pretty light on Hall and she just randomly drops out of the film without having her arc tied up, even though she’s the most magnetic performer in the whole thing. Canterbury, on the other hand, has far too big a part and while he’s decent as Kelsey, his pouting does become a bit one-note after a while. The second half is, thankfully, far superior, mainly because Alan and Ben grow out of their immaturity and are forced to make some big decisions that shed some light on their relationship and back story. This is also where Sandvig and Ritter’s chemistry shines. They really nail the old friends dynamic and it stretches and warps as a wedge is driven between them, challenging their entire way of life. Both Amanda Seyfried and Johnny Simmons cameo in the film - the former as Ben’s angry ex and the latter as a college-aged Kelsey. Both of the appearances are a lot of fun but they, along with some other casting choices, do make you wonder how such a tiny film with such a sparse script, managed to attract these people. One point that keeps the film stuck in some sort of fantasy land and prevents us from really getting into it, though, is that throughout the whole thing we’re asked to believe that two people can stand in the same spot every day pretending to be valets while stealing cars instead, and never be caught or even suspected. It’s a level of suspension of logic that practically screams quirky, a sentiment that’s only compounded by some of the costume choices. A Bag of Hammers is pretty inconsistent but it’s one of those films in which the second half will put a wide enough smile on your face that it’ll erase any memory of the underwhelming first half. As a result of its general wispiness though, the effect will probably be permanent and will soon extend to the second half as well.
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This documentary chronicles the punk-influenced No Wave movement which took place in 1970s New York and included the likes of Blondie, Jim Jarmusch, Jean Michel Basquiat, Steve Buscemi and Sonic Youth. It was a time when NYC was only broached by the hard core, or those with a death wish, and the artists that lived there were young, dirt poor and dabbled in everything from film to music regardless of whether they were any good at it. The movement didn’t last long but it’s effect on culture, and the indie film scene in particular, is still palpable today. The documentary is made up of interviews with various partakers in the movement whether filmmakers, actors, singers or a combination of all three. It’s also filled with plenty of old footage of the interviewees from both their films and concerts. The thing about these kids, and they were practically kids back then, is that they just seem so cool. They barely had any resources or education and yet were highly prolific anyway. They would try anything as if they had no fear of failure. They weren’t afraid of screwing up because the process and the act of creation were the important parts; if the product ended up sucking it was no big deal because they’d already be at work on the next piece. At least that’s the vibe that the documentary gives off. It also helps that the modern day, grown-up No Wavers seem every bit as cool as they did back then. Blank City is particularly interesting for artists, regardless of your discipline, though filmmakers stand to gain the most. In addition to giving you a real feel for how the movement went down, how its predecessors and its legacy influenced it, the film is also a kick in the junk. It shows how the indie film scene started during a time when HD cameras were not cheap enough that everyone and their mother would tote them around and call themselves filmmakers. Despite the drawbacks that come mainly in the form of over saturated, sun drenched, “artsy” shots of food splashed all over Facebook, the increased availability of cameras is a godsend to filmmakers. We now have micro-budget films such as Like Crazy, which looks incredible, that was shot on a Canon 7D – a relatively affordable camera – and was highly acclaimed by both critics and audiences.
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