Ahoy, squirts! Quint here with our buddy MiraJeff who has attacked Tribeca with both guns blazin'! And it seems he already found a winner in THE BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY. Reading the below review, I'm most intrigued about Tim Roth and Nick Nolte's performances in this film. Bai Ling is a very attractive woman (who is apparently going to be posing for Playboy... fyi for all us pervs out there... although if you've ever seen her wardrobe, you'd know that it's not a radical step for her... When I interviewed her at Comic-Con last year, I swear she had strategically placed 4 strips of cloth, a pound of studs and about two lengths of string to dress herself that day) and I'm sure she'll be perfect in the movie... but damn do I love seeing Tim Roth and Nick Nolte create great characters. They are such great characters themselves... So, that's what really intrigues me about the movie. Here's MiraJeff with his praises!
Greetings AICN, it is the magnificent MiraJeff again, here with a very important report from this year’s Tribeca Film Festival about a film that deserves its review on its own page, as reward for standing out from the rest of the pack.
The Beautiful Country is the excellent feature debut from Norwegian director Hans Petter Moland. The film is set in Vietnam in 1990 and follows the story of Binh (newcomer Damien Nguyen), a loner whose foster mother wants him to move out now that she is engaged to be married. The quiet, introverted young man has been told he is ugly everyday of his life, not only because of the scar on his lip, but because his father was an American soldier. He is called “bui doi,” a slur for Vietnamese babies with American fathers meaning “less than dust.” Binh prays before setting off for Saigon, which Moland establishes nicely while transitioning from rural village to the fast-paced city. Showing a photograph of his parents around, he tracks his mother down to a mansion where she works as a housekeeper. He is immediately recognized by the little brother he hardly knows, Tam, who leads him to their mother, Mai. Binh and Mai’s reunion is tearful and emotional and the way the old woman holds her grown child in her arms had me wiping my eyes on my sleeve. Finally, he is shown love after being rejected by his foster family and the society he lives in. Mai begs Mrs. Hoa, the lady of the house she works in, to give Binh a job. She reluctantly agrees, but her act of kindness contradicts the cruelty she acts toward Binh with. Her son slaps him around a little, though Binh suffers in silence because he has been reunited with those he loves. When the vicious old lady dies in an accident, Mai hurries to help Binh escape the grounds with his brother Tam, knowing he will be blamed. She hands over her savings, points him toward a boat that will help him to America, and gives him the last known address of her husband before she must wish her son well on his journey in search of a better life.
Binh and Tam sail across the South China Sea in a barely floating vessel. Some emigrants die, others persevere. When their watercraft washes ashore in the twilight of Malaysia, the emotion is overwhelming and they look like slaves being freed. Moland beautifully captures these powerful images of a coconut hitting the side of the watercraft, signaling land nearby, the boat washing ashore, mothers protecting their small children from the cascading waves, feet kicking up sand as the tide washes away their footprints, like people who were never there. The visuals are aided by a beautiful score from Zbigniew Preisner, who does amazing work here, though there were scenes that used a temp score, borrowing music from Michael Mann’s “Heat” and “The Insider.”
Binh and Tam’s misery is far from over though, as they are taken prisoner in a refugee camp from which no one leaves, with the exception of the beautiful Ling (Bai Ling) who is whisked off the grounds at night to work as a prostitute. At the camp, Binh learns English and with it, the hopelessness of his situation, though he keeps his head held high and his defenses up as he fends for himself and Tam. When mayhem erupts in the camp, the refugees overpower the guards and Ling uses her considerable assets to help Binh and Tam sneak out to board an American-bound ship. Though Ling offers to stay at the camp because there is only room for two in the floating basket that will carry them to the ship waiting at sea, Binh insists she come with them, and he swims toward the boat, pulling the basket behind him with one arm.
The ship smuggling immigrants is captained by Tim Roth, though the illegal operation is coordinated by Snakehead (Temuera Morrison), the unsympathetic ringleader who forces Binh to sign over years’ worth of his future earnings once he gets to America. It’s either that or get off the boat. Snakehead is like the cruel river ferryman, shuttling people from to their hopes and dreams, though he views human life as little more than cargo. They’re of no use to him malnourished or worse, dead, so it is important to him to keep them in working condition. However, when a storm strikes the ship, damaging its food and water supplies, people begin starving and contracting disease. Some characters are luckier than others. Tim Roth as the ship’s quiet captain says things like, “people die all the time. It’s as natural as living.” Toning it down a bit, Roth turns in one of the strongest supporting roles of his career.
On the ship, the immigrants gamble to name people and products associated with America. This leads to an awkward confrontation between Binh and a food-hording drug dealer where Binh names a slew of America-related things. This Rocky-like stand comes across a little hokey and relegates the film to another cheesy, wide-eyed immigrant tale. When Binh and Ling arrive in America, they know their lives are going in different directions. Binh works as a lowly dishwasher in an Asian restaurant and Ling caresses American businessmen in karaoke bars. Before they part ways, Ling kisses Binh in the rain, a beautiful moment that provides some closure to their relationship. She has helped Binh see himself as someone not ugly, who is deserving of love. So Binh sets off for Texas, in search of love of a different kind.
Hitchhiking across the country, aided by the generosity of strangers, Binh is disappointed when his father is not at the Houston address he has written down. After some persistence, a woman points him toward his father’s last known address, as a ranch hand in Sweetwater, Texas. This leads to the final confrontation between Binh and Steve (Nick Nolte), who may or may not be his father. Binh gets hired to help Steve on the ranch because Steve is blind and slipping in his old age. Under the guise of a working relationship, Binh and Steve strike up a friendship and while they never acknowledge each other as father and son, they speak with knowing tongues. Though we are never granted the satisfaction of an emotional, hug-filled reunion, Nolte does excellent work reminiscing on his days of good memories in Vietnam. Injured during the war, Steve awoke in an American hospital, and though he knew his family was still there, he figured his wife didn’t need a blind guy looking after her. Nolte’s face, wracked with age and experience, speaks volumes about his character, and The Beautiful Country ends on a hopeful note as Binh and Steve learn to trust each other and develop a friendship.
As of this writing, Moland’s film is the best I’ve seen at this year’s festival. Damien Nguyen is a real find as Binh, demonstrating sincere range and genuine emotion. If anyone tries and make this guy a martial arts star, I’ll kill myself. This guy has more dramatic talent in his fingernail than Jet or Jackie have in their whole bodies. The film runs a little long but you could waste your time in far worse films. The Beautiful Country is indeed, a beautiful film. See for yourself if you don’t believe little old me.
Grade: A-
