Hey folks, Harry here... Once again our wonderful reporter from Rotterdam has two jewels with which her wit will share with us. I'm literally aching to see THE RETURN. It sounds... AMAZING! It sounds like the sort of film that captures you at every level, that works at every level. Russia is making some pretty wonderful films recently, check out THE WAR by Alexei Balabanov if you can find it. An absolutely stunning film. Stunning. Here's Elaine...
THE RETURN is now playing in NY (Lincoln Plaza, Cinema Village and Cinema Arts Centre, Huntington) and starts this Friday in LA!
ROTTERDAM INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL
Nearly there. Just a four more reviews (today’s two and tomorrow’s two) and a few concluding remarks to go, and then I’m done reviewing the RIFF for this year. Finally.
Today’s reviews are not of obscure Asian gems, but of two of the festival’s highest-ranking European films: Andrei Zvyagintsev’s “The Return” and Achero Manas’ “Noviembre” (November), my second- and third-favourite movie of the festival, respectively. Both are excellent dramas with a simple story, brilliant acting and a big, climactic ending. For the record, “Noviembre” finished second in the Audience Award poll with a 4.52 approval rate (out of a maximum 5); “The Return”, which last autumn took away the top award at the Venice International Film Festival, finished fifth with a 4.49 score.
The usual warning applies: the reviews are long and in-depth, and they give away a fair bit of what happens in the films, but they don’t contain really major spoilers.
THE RETURN
(Directed by Andrei Zvyagintsev, written by Vladimir Moiseyenko and Alexander Novototsky)
When “The Return” was awarded the Golden Lion at Venice last autumn, the jury called it “a subtle and compelling film about love, loss and coming of age”. I’d go one step further. I’d call it the most subtle and most compelling film about love, loss and coming of age of the year, criminally overlooked by the Academy but thankfully acknowledged by more descerning institutions. Seriously, this is one of the best films of the year, and absolutely everyone in Rotterdam agreed about that.
“The Return” is a Russian rite-of-passage film. It has many layers, but on the surface, it is a story about two brothers aged 13 and 15. The eldest, Andrei, is a lanky, shy guy who’ll do anything to keep the peace; the youngest, Ivan, is a headstrong brat with a lot of anger in him. One day, the boys are startled to find their father, whom they haven’t seen for twelve years and of whom they have no memories, back in the family home. Without an explanation or an apology for his twelve-year absence, the father assumes his position as the head of the family. Andrei, who seems to have missed a father figure in his life and desperately needs someone to look up to, is glad to see him and almost immediately accepts him as a father. Ivan, on the other hand, is not quite so forgiving, and repeatedly challenges him. The man doesn’t seem to care either way. The next day, the father has to leave again on some unexplained business. The boys, eager to get to know their new-found dad, go with him. Thus begins a highly symbolical trip through the wilderness, during which the father – who quickly turns out to be the authoritarian type – teaches his sons many harsh but useful lessons. Andrei quickly falls in with his father’s way of doing things; Ivan doesn’t and reacts to his father’s strictness by becoming increasingly wayward. And so the three of them journey on, to a desert island where apparently the father has some business, until things come to head between Ivan and his dad and the situation spirals out of hand.
Now this could have been the recipe for a bad film – a schmaltzy family-film-of-the-week affair with lots of big, emotional outbursts and a tearful reunion at the end of it all. However, in the hands of Zvyagintsev (amazingly enough a first-time director), it becomes a memorable experience. For not only does Zvyagintsev absolutely nail the characterisation of his three leads, but he also creates a haunting atmosphere – not just suspenseful (although you definitely feel that something bad is going to happen), but more impressive altogether. Mysterious. Symbolical. Fraught with meaning, although it’s hard to determine what exactly that meaning is.
Let me start with the characterisation. “The Return” is, quite simply, one of the greatest character-driven films of the past few years. It has no plot other than the one outlined above; all there is is the bare essentials of the relationship between the two brothers and each brother’s relationship to their father. But oh, what relationships they are, and oh, with what exquisite eye for detail have they been drawn.
First of all, there is the relationship between Ivan and Andrei. Despite the fact that they don’t look too similar, they are absolutely convincing as brothers. Theirs is a relationship fraught with sibling rivalry. They have lots of little fights (all of which ring completely true), and yet it is obvious that they care about each other, or at least that they know each other very well. There’s a kind of intimacy between them that probably results from the fact that they’ve never had a father and so have always been dependent on each other. And because they have always been dependent on each other, Ivan feels betrayed when Andrei accepts the father he himself can’t bring himself to accept and does his best to prove himself a worthy son. In Ivan’s eyes, Andrei has switched allegiance from Ivan to his father, and this sense of betrayal makes him even more wayward than he already is. His hostility towards both Andrei and his father grows, until it gets to the point where you know there is going to be trouble, either for Ivan himself or for his father.
Which brings me to the father, who may well be the most enigmatic character to grace the screen in years. At the beginning of the film, he doesn’t care about his sons at all; he is so aloof that you find yourself wondering whether he is indeed their father. Then, when he finally decides to take an active interest in his boys, he goes about it the wrong way. Rather than try to win their affection by being a kind and indulgent father, as many a long-absent parent in his position would do, he turns completely authoritarian. He asserts his right to be a father so harshly that you feel quite sorry for the boys, who are forced to put with it, since they’re alone in the wilderness with him and have no one else to turn to. And then, gradually, your attitude to the father begins to change. You begin to see that he, too, is inexperienced at this. That he has to get used to being a father as much as his sons have to get used to having a father. That his strictness, though perhaps ill-advised, is all for the best. That underneath his stern exterior, he really cares for his boys, and that all that harshness is really a way to ensure that they grow up to be strong, capable men of whom he can be proud. But even though your sympathy for him grows, you continue to be baffled by the mystery that surrounds him. For after all, what do we know about this guy? Who is he, and where has he been all these years? Why has he suddenly come back, and what is the purpose of this trip to the wilderness? What is he hoping to find? He’s an intriguing character, the father is, and the mystery that surrounds him keeps your eyes glued to the screen, hoping to get an answer to the many questions that both his return and his behaviour pose.
However, the father is not the only mystery in the film. In a way, the whole film is a mystery. Don’t get me wrong – it’s an accessible film, very easy to follow on the superficial level, but at the same time you get the feeling that something else is going on on another level, or perhaps two other levels. That this isn’t just a story about a man and his two sons, but something more universal, more mythological altogether. It’s as if Andrei Tarkovsky has come back to life to tell us another of those symbolic, metaphysical, possibly biblical stories that seem to be a Russian speciality. Except that this one is more easily accessible than Tarkovsky’s films, and so should appeal to those who don’t really “get” Tarkovsky, too.
Now I could spend hours telling you why this is such a good film. I could rave about the cinematography, which is wonderful, or about the music, which has a distinctly ominous quality despite the fact that it isn’t the least bit horror-like. About the way in which the sparse scenery seems to reflect the sparseness of the story. About the significance of the opening and closing scenes, and how they might be interpreted. About the fact that Zvyagintsev simply doesn’t put a foot wrong when it comes to pacing and working towards the big climax. But the fact is, this might not have been more than an average mysterious-family-trip drama (although come to think of it, how many of those do you know?) if it hadn’t been for the fact that Zvyagintsev (a former actor) really knows how to direct his actors.
There is some absolutely PHENOMENAL acting on display here, both by the guy who plays the father and by the two boys, who are just about the two most talented child actors I have ever seen. Vladimir Garin (who tragically died just after the shooting of the film was completed, without ever having seen himself on the big screen) is utterly believable as the shy, weak Andrei who will do anything to prevent conflicts. In his eyes, you see his eternal struggle: he doesn’t want to be a weakling, but on the other hand he desperately wants to be liked, and so he ends up complying with whatever is asked of him. Amazingly, young Ivan Dobronravov is even better. His Ivan is a thoroughly recognisable figure – an angry teenager who is so afraid of being rejected that he rejects others before they can reject him. He is the archetypal tough kid who will do anything to prove to himself and others that he is not the coward some people take him for, and when he gets ready to fight, you really sense all the frustration of his young life – his stubbornness, his determination, his urge to prove himself, and most of all, his barely checked anger, both with others and with himself. It’s there in his eyes, in his words, in the tension in his shoulders, and it is deeply impressive to behold.
And yet, as good as the boys are, they are out-played by their father. Sweet Jesus. I don’t often lose myself in hyperbole, but Konstantin Lavronenko makes a BRILLIANT father. Not only is he one of the most charismatic actors I have ever seen on the big screen, but he has the most expressive eyes this side of Gollum. In his eyes, you see it all: the wish to sort out his own business at the beginning of the film, his commitment to his boys once he has decided to really have a go at being a father, his irritation whenever he is being challenged by Ivan, and most of all his love and admiration for Ivan, of whom he is proud even though he is at the same time very concerned about him. It is a fabulous performance, both sensitive and macho, which should see Lavronenko (who according to the IMDB has only appeared in three films) catapult to the top of the Russian actors’ ranks. Honestly, if there’s any justice, he’ll become an international superstar. He is that charismatic.
As for the interpretation of the film, I’m going to have to see it a few more times before I make any pronouncements on that. In the meantime, I’m simply going to enjoy it on the surface level, which is quite amazingly fabulous enough.
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NOVIEMBRE (November)
(Written and directed by Achero Manas)
It’s hard to give a plot summary of this film that is going to make it sound appealing. Frankly, the blurb in the fest bible didn’t appeal to me, and if the film hadn’t shot to the top of the Audience Award list after its first screening, I probably would have given it a miss. As it is, I’m glad I did give it a chance, for the audience were right: “Noviembre” was one of the best films in the festival.
So, just for the record, what is it about?
“Noviembre” is a fake documentary (not quite a mockumentary) about a group of young, idealistic and somewhat pretentious drama school students in a Spanish city of the early 1990s who decide drama school is bollocks and take their acts to the street. Their idea is to bring drama back to its origins: not to expensive theatres where only the rich and privileged get to watch it, but to the streets, where it’s free for all to see. Initially, they sort of play around, entertaining tourists with weird acts and hassling innocent bystanders with their supposedly funny but really somewhat annoying antics. Gradually, though, their performances become more serious. More politically conscious. After having their props confiscated by the police, they decide to go for the simplest, cheapest, most effective kind of street theatre. In order to prove how callous, materialistic and individualistic society has become, they begin to impersonate social outcasts. Beggars, refugees, drug addicts – you name it. They’re so convincing at it that the city’s inhabitants begin to complain about their being a nuisance. The troupe are arrested, and when they’re released, they come up with something really drastic: the simulation of a murder in a busy shopping street. Again, they’re so convincing that the police and an ambulance are called to the scene. Needless to say, another arrest ensues, after which the troupe are told to quit street theatre for good. Cue a big, awe-inspiring farewell performance.
I know, this isn’t the kind of summary that will have those not excessively interested in the dramatic arts running to the theatre. It sounds unbelievable and pretentious. And yet “Noviembre” is a thoroughly engaging – nay, thrilling – experience. You see, quite aside from the fact that the film is at least partly based on a true story (just after the end of the Franco era, there was a Spanish troupe engaging in the kind of street theatre seen in the film, called El Piojo Picon), it is both brilliantly acted and fabulously well-edited. What’s more, it is simply fascinating to stare in disbelief at the increasingly insane stunts the young actors pull, and to wonder if they’ll get away with them. You just know they’re headed for a disaster at some point, and they are. Big time.
Now the main reason why “Noviembre” works as well as it does is the actors. Put quite simply, this film boasts some of the finest young actors working in Spain. I don’t think I had seen any of them before, but if their performances in this film are anything to go by, they are destined for great things. This is particularly true for Oscar Jaenada, who plays Alfredo, the charismatic leader of the troupe. Jaenada is completely convincing as the young, idealistic actor who insists that the troupe do not turn commercial, no matter how much money they are offered. And it is important that he should be convincing, for the whole film is basically an hommage to Alfredo, who is both the creative genius behind the shows and the force that keeps the troupe together. And they do need keeping-together. For while they are initially a close-knit bunch, they gradually grow apart, both on the personal and on the political level. Some members think the group is becoming too radical; others think it is not radical enough. When money, which has always been frowned upon, becomes an issue, tension rises, and thus the stage is set for a conflict, which culminates in a big, dramatic discharge.
There is some wonderful acting on display here, especially in the street-theatre scenes. To begin with, the students’ antics are a bit irritating, but once they start their campaign to confront the inhabitants of the city in which they ply their trade with the kind of abuse that goes on in their society, they become so impressive, so utterly convincing that the shoppers who witness their performances don’t know how quickly to look away. The shoppers don’t want to be part of the misery to which they are subjected, and so, like most of us in their position, they try to ignore the actors who are holding up a mirror to them. As a matter of fact, the bystanders’ reactions to the troupe’s performances are so realistic that I’m not sure whether the street scenes were filmed in front of a genuinely unsuspecting crowd or whether Manas just worked with extremely talented extras. Either way, both the troupe and the people watching them appear absolutely genuine.
And the mixing-up of reality and dramatisation doesn’t end there. You see, to add a note of historical veracity to the documentary aspect of the film, Manas has a group of elderly actors (supposedly former members of the troupe whose exploits we follow) look back on their years on the street and comment on what we see on screen. As it happens, many of these actors are real-life members of the Piojo Picon group on whose adventures the film was based. It isn’t clear whether the stories they tell are about their own experiences or about the imagined ones of their supposed 1990s counterparts, but at any rate, they sound believable and add a touch of authenticity to the increasingly bizarre shows we see put up on the screen. At the same time, though, the use of the elderly actors as talking heads is somewhat confusing, as they seem far too old to be the grown-up versions of the young actors seen at work on the 1990s streets. This is because Manas plays a trick with the temporal construction of the film. Apparently, the elderly actors telling the story aren’t doing so from the vantage point of 2004, but of some other time in the future. However, since Manas never explicitly states that the interviews with the elderly actors are supposed to take place in the future, you’re likely to think he’s made a casting error, as the ages of the 1990s actors and those of the older actors telling their story don’t seem to match. It isn’t until you realise that there is a future perspective that the set-up begins to make sense, and then you realise that the director isn’t merely commenting on the callousness of the nineties, but also on that of the noughties. Which is presumably also why Manas’ nineties look suspiciously like the noughties.
Now there will undoubtedly be those who find all this pretentious and will boycott the film on those grounds alone. Those people will be missing something good, for “Noviembre” has a lot to offer besides its anti-materialistic, anti-individualistic message. To be sure, it IS an artsy, leftist kind of film, but if you can get over that, you’re in for a well-crafted film with a superb (albeit mostly unknown) cast and a big, memorable climax.
Don’t miss it if you ever find yourself in its vicinity.
Elaine
