Classic Movie Review: Lenny Cooke (2013)

Lenny Cooke (2013)

Directed by: Joshua & Benny Safdie.

 

I have been meaning to see the two first Safdie brother’s films – Lenny Cooke and Daddy Longlegs – since I loved their third film, Heaven Knows What, and particularly since I was head over heels for Good Time back in 2017. But I’m glad I waited a little bit to catch up with them. Lenny Cooke – their only feature documentary – makes sense in the wake of Uncut Gems. Part of it is the basketball connection – Uncut Gems features Kevin Garnett (who is mentioned, but not seen here) – so it is clear the brothers have a love of basketball, but also see it clear eyed – they don’t romanticize the game, and see it clearly as a moneymaking venture, for the players, and everyone else around it. But it’s also clear that the Safdie have a love for these types of characters – the characters who charge straight through something, even when all signs are telling them to hold up.

 

Lenny Cooke was once the top rated high school basketball player in America – ahead of future stars like LeBron James and Carmelo Anthony. And yet, Cooke never made it to the NBA at all, let alone become a star. He wasn’t even drafted. Lenny Cooke, the documentary, is made up of two parts. The first half of the movie is footage that the Safdie have accumulated from other sources – from interviews with Cooke when we were on top of the world, a guaranteed star. The second half of the film is shot years later – when his basketball career has fizzled out, he is now turning 30, he has gained some weight, and while he puts on a happy face, he is clearly a man with regrets. He was a year older than LeBron – who of course went 1^st overall in the draft, and has become one of the best players the game has ever seen. Cooke made the same decision as LeBron – to bypass college, and go straight into the draft. And then – for a variety of reasons (perhaps because he aged out of high school basketball, and hadn’t player organized ball in 18 months) isn’t drafted. There is a moment, a little earlier, where a scout says of Cooke that he’s at a crossroads – one way, he is a star player in the NBA, the other he becomes a New York playground legend, and nothing more.

 

I doubt the Safdies would have much interest in Cooke had he gone down the first path – and become a star. The New York brothers probably really did know of Cooke, and decide to look into what happened to the legend. They find him in Virginia with his family – the place we saw him in his previous life saying he’d never return to – now living his life. He is outwardly happy – he still has the big personality we saw in the past. But he has been humbled, he has been hurt. And there are times when that comes out – like a scene late in the film when he visits his old New York friends, and complains that they have basically abandoned him.

 

When you watch Lenny Cooke, you know where this is going – you know he’s not going to become a star, since we don’t know his name. Watching those early scenes then have an air of sadness to them. We see Cooke, who has the big personality and confidence, and yet we also see how all that makes him make one mistake after another after another. It’s one thing to have talent – but after only doing showcases for a while, what did he really expect? And yet, it’s also a sad story, because we see all these people pumping his tires, convincing him of things that are unrealistic. And when you’re a kid – 18 years old, from a poor neighborhood, you want to believe what they say.

 

All of the Safdie brother’s films are about self-destructive people in a way – ones who cannot help themselves, and keep following their path down to its end point, even once it becomes clear they need to pull back. Cooke is perhaps the saddest of these characters – in part, of course, because he’s real. But part because he’s perhaps the one who we shouldn’t have suspected to know better – he’s a stupid kid, who does stupid things – and cannot see the end coming. Lenny Cooke is a very good, very sad documentary. Any star athlete in their teens should see it – as a warning of things to come. Most of them will end up like Cooke, not LeBron.

Classic Movie Review: The Police Officer's Wife (2013)

The Police Officer’s Wife (2013)

Directed by: Philip Gröning.

Written by: Philip Gröning.

Starring: Alexandra Finder (Christine Perkinger), David Zimmerschied (Uwe Perkinger), Pia and Chiara Kleemann (Clara Perkinger).

 

It is impossible to be entertained by a film like The Police Officer’s Wife. It is a nearly three hour film, separated into 59 different chapters – ranging from under 30 seconds, to about 10 minutes – complete with title cards announcing the beginning and end of each chapter. The film documents a woman’s long, slow implosion due to the violence she endures from her police officer husband – and the great lengths she goes to in an attempt to protect her young daughter from the truth. The film is mainly made up of long, static shots that observe the scenes as they play out in agonizing real time. This makes for a long, bleak viewing – where even the few scenes of joy are undercut by the realization of what else is happening. And yet, while it took the movie a long time to put me under its spell – it eventually does accomplish that goal. By the time the movie ended, I was surprised by how involved I was by the film.

 

The film was directed by Philip Groning – whose last film was the documentary Into Great Silence (2005) about life inside a monastery. That film generated great reviews – but somehow I missed it seeing back then. In The Police Officer’s Wife he brings a documentary approach to fiction filmmaking. He observes this family going about their daily routines – including Uwe’s (David Zimmershied) exacting routine when he comes home after work every day. His wife, Christine (Alexandra Finder) spends all of her time with their young daughter Clara (played by twins Pia and Chiara Kleemann). The play, dig in their garden, prepare dinner, etc. Basically, the first part of the movie is just about their domestic routines – contrasted with scenes of nature, and occasionally, the actions of an lonely old man (whose presence is never explained – but I think is fairly obvious, given the end of the movie). Gradually, Groning introduces violence into the equation – slowly and subtly at first, and seemingly unrelated to the family itself – a deer who is hit by a car while Uwe is at work, that forces him to take care of it, the daughter’s fascination with worms, etc.

 

If we know early on that Uwe likes thinks “just so”, and that something is not quite right between them – we actually get our first glimpse of just how serious things are in a one of the movie’s lighter scenes – a playful water fight between husband and wife, we first see the bruises of Christine’s body. These bruises will multiply and grow more severe throughout the movie. As the movie continues, there are fewer calm scenes, and more disturbing ones. Christine slowly sinks into herself – her eyes seem to recede into her head, she lets her hygiene suffer to the point where Clara complains that “Mommy stinks” – something that Uwe thinks is hilarious. But the further she seems to fall, the angrier Uwe gets – his outbreaks get worse and more frequent and violent. Clara is left to her own devices more and more often, and she starts to relate more to Uwe than the Christine – which just makes matters worse. Things will eventually explode – in chapter 54, the longest (or at least feels the longest) which is one of the most riveting and disturbing scenes you will ever see.

 

I am glad I saw The Police Officer’s Wife at TIFF. Had I tried to watch the film at home, I’m not sure I would have made it past an hour. The chapters, the title cards, the slow pace seemed to be a long, slow slog to nowhere for the first third of the movie. But a strange thing happened as I watched the movie – I feel into its rhythm. Not unlike Chantal Ackerman’s Jeanne Dielman (although that film is even more repetitious – by design, to make the title characters explosion at the more shocking), The Police Officer’s Wife has a pace all of its own, and you either fall under its spell, or else you grow bored and restless, and eventually just walk out. I cannot imagine ever watching the film again – it is such a painful film in so many ways, that watching it a second time would be torture. And yet, I cannot help but admire the film. Yes, the film is too long and too slow – and the unnecessary chapters and the title cards make things seem even longer than it otherwise might, and reeks of a director imposing himself on the material, and distances the audience for the action. Yet, the chapter headings are also somewhat reassuring – we know whatever we are seeing will eventually end, and we will be given at least a brief respite from the pain on the screen.

 

The performances by the three leads – who are the only people who have a meaningful in the movie – are about as good as the movie allows. Zimmerschied’s ordinary appearance makes his outbreaks all the more painful. Finder’s physical transformation is impressive, but her subtle quiet performance is better, and more striking, that just that. The Kleeman twins play Clara as a typical little girl – but one who sees more than she should. Occasionally, one or more members of the family will come on screen and look directly into the camera, and sing some nursery rhymes, which have never sounded disturbing than they do here.

 

The Police Officer’s Wife is precisely the film that Groning wanted to make. I cannot imagine what the audience of the film is going to be. Any foreign film with such disturbing subject matter is a tough sell – and the three hour running time doesn’t help matters. I admire Groning for making the movie, knowing that very few people would ever want to watch his film. So, did I like The Police Officer’s wife, or not? Or more importantly should you see the film? I have to admit it – I do think Groning has made a powerful film – but I cannot think of too many people who want to put themselves through the movie. But if you’ve made it this far into the review, you probably already know If they movie is for you or not.  If after reading everything I’ve written, you still think it’s something you`d like – than you`re probably right. For most though, The Police`s Officer`s wife would simply be a too slow, too creepy, too painful to watch.

 

Note: I saw this film at TIFF 2013, and at this point, I have to believe it’s not going to get a proper released in North America – so I decided to publish the review I wrote then anyway.

Movie Review: A Letter to Momo

A Letter to Momo
Directed by: Hiroyuki Okiura.
Written by: Hiroyuki Okiura.
Starring: Karen Miyama (Momo Miyaura), Yuka  Yuka (Ikuko Miyaura), Daizaburo Arakawa (Kazuo Miyaura), Toshiyuki Nishida (Iwa), Kôichi Yamadera (Kawa), Cho (Mame), Yoshisada Sakaguchi (Great Grandfather), Ikuko Tani (Great Grandmother), Takeo Ogawa (Koichi), Kota Fuji (Yota), Katsuki Hashimoto (Umi).

A Letter to Momo shares some similarities with Hayao Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Tortoro – and suffers by comparison. That gentle film by the Japanese master is one of his enduring classics – so simple and straightforward, but also beautiful to look at. A Letter to Momo is also a beautiful film in many ways – but it is also needlessly long to tell such a simple story. I admired the visuals of the film, but ultimately, I was rather bored by the film.

The film is about Momo, a young girl of about 12, who gets angry with her father and tells her she hates him. Little does she know it is the last time she will see him – as he dies in an accident. She finds a letter in his office with two words – Dear Momo – and it haunts her, because she wanted to know what her father was going to tell her. Her mother packs her up, quits her job, sells their Tokyo condo to move back to her small, island hometown – right next door to her parents. Momo tries exploring the island, and meeting the local children – there are not many, as most of the inhabitants are old. But then strange things start happening – food is disappearing, and there are strange noises in the attic. Soon Momo will find out who is making those noises – three spirits – Kawa, who is somewhat cynical, Mame who is like a small child, and the massive Iwa – a gentle giant. But they are not there to harm Momo and her family – but protect it.

If you’ve seen My Neighbor Tortoro you can spot the similarities between the two films. While the mother in Tortoro is not dead, just really sick, both films deal with an absent parent and its effect on children – as well as moving the children to a remote, countryside location, and have mystical creatures there to protect them. In Tortoro, I think it’s a little more clear that the creatures are merely invented by the children as a way of dealing with fear, whereas in A Letter to Momo, I’m not sure if that’s the case, or whether the creatures in the film truly exist.

So the film shares a lot in common with one of the great anime movies of all time. By itself, that wouldn’t really be a problem – what is a problem is that writer/director Hiroyuki Okiura doesn’t really do much with the premise other than just simply let it play out in the most obvious way imaginable. A Letter to Momo is certainly a pleasant film – it looks great from start to finish, and the character design on the three creatures is impressive, making them into individual creatures, rather than interchangeable entities. But the film also clouds its simple narrative with too many complications – the neighborhood kids, and the pressure on Momo to jump off a bridge into the river below, the strange disappearances, etc. The film is two hours long, and after about an hour, it really starts to feel as if it is too long.

I appreciated the visual look of A Letter to Momo from beginning to end – and I liked that the film didn’t talk down to children, like so much American animation does. However, if you’re going to make something that so deliberately references one of the greatest films the medium has ever produced, you should try to do something different with it. My Neighbor Tortoro is simple perfection. A Letter to Momo is not.

Movie Review: Some Velvet Morning

Some Velvet Morning
Directed by: Neil LaBute.
Written by: Neil LaBute.
Starring: Stanley Tucci (Fred), Alice Eve (Velvet).

There was a time in the late 1990s and early 2000s that I felt that Neil LaBute may become one of the best American filmmakers of his generation. His In the Company of Men (1997) and Your Friends and Neighbors (1998) are both brilliant, cruel examinations of the harm men (and in the later, women) do to each other. They are tough, cynical and darkly hilarious. His Nurse Betty (2000) was a departure – a strange comedy – but was just as good. But I don’t think he`s made a great film since then. Perhaps it’s because he stopped writing the movies, or tried to go too mainstream when he did. LaBute, who got his start as a playwright continued to write plays in his trademark style, but in terms of his film work the last film of his that felt like a "typical" LaBute film was 2003`s The Shape of Things (based on one of his plays) – which I liked, but didn’t love as I thought Rachel Weisz screwed up the lead role. Last year`s Some Velvet Morning then is a welcome return to form for LaBute – at least partially. It`s still nowhere near as good as those first two films – but at least it feels like a the work of the same filmmaker who made them.

Some Velvet Morning is not based on one of LaBute's plays – although it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that LaBute originally did write it with the stage in mind. The entire movie is set in one location – a house – and has just two characters in it. Fred (Stanley Tucci) shows up on the doorstep of Velvet (Alice Eve) – with all his worldly belongings. He tells her he has finally left his wife, and his ready to move in with her. This, even though, the two broke up four years ago, haven’t seen each other, and Velvet is an upscale prostitute. She tells him she doesn’t love him anymore, doesn’t want him anymore, and wants him to leave the house. She has to go meet a client, and doesn’t want to keep him waiting. And the client may well be Fred`s adult son – the one who introduced the two in the first place. Fred refuses to leave – and this starts an 84 minute argument between the two of them, where Fred lets forth with a litany of misogyny, and Velvet responds in kind – even if she cannot quite keep up with the cruelty of Fred.

A movie like this is dependent on two things – the strength of the performances, the strength of the writing. LaBute tries to make the film more cinematic, and less stage bound, by shooting much of it with handheld cameras – but it doesn’t really work and is more of a distraction than anything else. The writing is as good as LaBute`s best work either – with too much dialogue that seems to be written for the benefit of the audience so they don’t get lost. But the performances by Tucci and Eve are great. Tucci treats the entire movie like an acting exercise – to see just how hateful he can make Fred – and although we`re always aware we are watching a performance; it’s still a great one. Eve plays things a little closer to the vest, a little more subdued, and it’s far and away the best film work she has done to date. The two go back and forth for the entire movie, inflicting pain and cruelty on each other for the entire runtime of the movie. When the scenes work, and they do more often than not, it’s somewhat mesmerizing.

As LaBute is fond of doing Some Velvet Morning comes with a twist ending – one that forces us to reconsider everything we`ve seen in the movie up until that point. The ending works, wonderfully, and if you`re being generous you could even argue that what we learn at the end makes even the films earlier problems make sense. I wouldn’t go that far, but the end of the movie does work.

 
If there is a larger problem with Some Velvet Morning it’s that none of it feels new – not for LaBute anyway. He`s done this type of movie before – and far better – than he’s done here, and his insights into the cruelty people inflict on each other, and the different roles men and women have in society, are rather dated. But Some Velvet Morning shows that LaBute still has it – still has the potential to make another great movie. He hasn’t shown that in years – going through the motions with a terrible movie like the horror remake The Wicker Man, or the lame thriller Lakeview Terrace or the unnecessary Americanized Death at a Funeral. And surprisingly for a movie that is built almost entirely on non-stop dialogue, they moment that sticks with me the most is the final silent shot. What precisely is going through that characters mind in that shot? That question still haunts me a few days later. I hope that LaBute continues with this type of movie, instead of those previously mentioned in this paragraph. At the very least, it feels like he has finally returned to the type of movie he should be making.

Movie Review: After Tiller

After Tiller
Directed by: Martha Shane & Lana Wilson.
Written by: Greg O'Toole & Martha Shane & Lana Wilson.

The argument about abortion in America is largely an emotional one. To the pro-life side, it’s about “murdering babies” – which they feel in wrong in any circumstances for any reason. To the pro-choice side, it is about a woman’s right to choose – to have control over their own body. Things get even more heightened when third trimester abortions are discussed. At this point, the fetuses are close to being fully formed, and in some cases may actually be able to survive birth and delivery. To many, even pro-choicers (full disclosure, I am one), third trimester abortions are a line too far. Certainly, even if you live in denial that you are pregnant for a one or two or three, it still gives another few months to make a decision, and get an abortion before you hit 23 weeks. After Tiller, whose title is derived from the period right after George Tiller, one of just five doctors in America qualified to perform third trimester abortions was murdered, things are not always that cut and dry. In many of the cases presented in After Tiller, the pregnant women seeking an abortion didn’t find out about some horrific birth defects that would result in nothing except a short, pain filled life for their children and decide it would be kinder to their children not to put them through that. If you can judge those women, well, you’re more confident in your beliefs than me. In other cases – where women simply put it off for a long time – are more complicated.

After Tiller follows the four surviving doctors who are qualified to perform third trimester abortions after the murder or George Tiller. They are subject to protests and death threats, and political pressure – as different states try to squeeze them out, or pass new legislature to make what they do illegal. To them, it is the principle of the thing more than anything. Women have the right to choose what they want to do with their unborn children, and who are they to judge? In the case of the women who know choose to end their pregnancies because of birth defects, the scenes showing them struggling with their decisions are heartbreaking. Directors Martha Shane and Lana Wilson never show these women’s faces – just their hands, and their voices as they explain their reasons.

To a certain extent, I think we can question some of these scenes – not because they are not real, but because everyone knows they are on camera during them, so of course, the possibility of them changing what they say, or how they say it, is real. But this is just one part of After Tiller – the direct interviews with the doctors themselves are, I feel, more valuable as they explain their reasons in their own words. It is possible for people on both sides on the abortion debate to watch these interviews, and the film itself, and come up with radically different reactions. I do hope however, that people can watch the film with an open mind.

After Tiller is not the best documentary about abortion – that would be Tony Kaye’s Lake of Fire (2007) – a long, brilliant documentary that can truly infuriate and challenge anyone’s beliefs on the issue. After Tiller, like 10^th and Delaware from a few years ago, is more narrowly focused – concentrating on a few people in the middle of the abortion debate. No matter what your opinion on the issues involved, I think After Tiller is an important documentary to watch, and listen to, and make up your own mind. If you go in with an open mind, you may find yourself challenged and moved by the documentary – even if you don’t change your mind.

Movie Review: God Loves Uganda

God Loves Uganda
Directed by: Roger Ross Williams.
Written by: Benjamin Gray & Richard Hankin & Roger Ross Williams.

I firmly believe that the vast majority of missionaries – even those ones documented in Roger Ross Williams’ excellent documentary God Loves Uganda – have the best of intentions. For me, an agnostic (or atheist depending on what day you ask me) I would prefer to simply live and let live – meaning basically that I won’t try to convince you that my beliefs are correct, and you don’t try to convince me your beliefs are correct, and we’ll get along just fine. Still, I understand that some people’s religion requires them to “spread the word” to others – and I’m respectful of the people who come to my door and pass out their booklets, or the numerous people who accost me on the streets of Toronto. I don’t think they’re doing any harm. But the people who have gone to Uganda are, in fact, doing harm to people. Evangelical churches like the International House of Prayer (or IHOP) have donated millions of dollars to Uganda to help them build schools, churches and infrastructure – and have undeniably improved the lives on many in Uganda. But in preaching their beliefs, they have also done harm to homosexuals living in Uganda. I think it’s possible to believe that homosexual is wrong – even if I vehemently disagree – and still be respectful. But in Uganda, there is a bill that would criminalize homosexuality to the extent that they can be jailed for life or even executed for being gay. This legislature has its roots in the Evangelical churches in America – and the people who are responsible are either lying or keeping themselves deliberately ignorant of the facts of this bill.

God Loves Uganda is the second of two documentaries released in 2013 about the bill – the other one, Call Me Kuchu – concentrated on gay activists in Uganda. I thought the subject matter of that film was extremely important, but the execution of the documentary left a lot to be desired. God Loves Uganda covers some of the same ground but also different ground as well. And as a documentary is a far better film. If you’re only going to see one of these films, I would recommend that film be God Loves Uganda.

Director Roger Ross Williams strategy in the movie seems to be to provide his interview subjects with enough rope to hang themselves with. We never really hear him pushing his interview subjects too much – except perhaps late in the film when he asks two young missionaries directly what their thoughts on the bill are, and they blame the Western media, not their own work, for misrepresenting the bill. They don’t even know what’s in the bill, they say, which is odd, since the drafter of the bill, and the religious community in Uganda, are not shy about telling you about it – and it’s pretty much exactly the same thing as the Western media who have “misrepresented the bill” say. But that’s the exception – for the most part Williams simply asks for their side of the story, and finds that most of them are all too willing to tell them what they think. If you agree with them, it’s possible to walk away from the movie not overly upset. If you disagree with them, then the film can be downright chilling.

I really don’t have a problem with missionaries going to Africa to help the people there who need help – and if that means they feel the need to share their religion, then so be it. But I cannot help but think that many of these Evangelical churches are hurting as much if not more than they are helping – not just in terms of gay rights, but also in terms of AIDS. The AIDS rate dropped in Uganda during the 1990s, when aid from the Clinton administration supplied condoms to the people of Uganda, who had a large scale advertising program about the benefits of condoms. But under George W. Bush, things changed. Uganda could only get aid if they agreed to “abstinence only” education – which doesn’t work anywhere – not in America, and not in Uganda. The AIDS rate has gone up again, but to the government of Uganda that’s worth it because it means aid they desperately need from the West.

 
God Loves Uganda is one of those documentaries that leaves me sad, mad and more than anything just shaking my head. How any reasonable person could believe that much of what has happened in Uganda makes sense is beyond me. Uganda has a long way to go in terms of gay rights and other social issues. As God Loves Uganda makes clear, so do parts of America.

Movie Review: Faust

Faust
Directed by:   Aleksandr Sokurov.
Written by: Aleksandr Sokurov & Marina Koreneva based on the book by Yuri Arabov and the play by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
Starring: Johannes Zeiler (Heinrich Faust), Anton Adasinsky (Mauricius), Isolda Dychauk (Margarete), Georg Friedrich (Wagner), Hanna Schygulla (Moneylender's 'Wife'), Antje Lewald (Margarete's Mother), Florian Brückner (Valentin), Katrin Filzen (Margarete's Maidservant), Prodromos Antoniadis (Notarius).

Russian filmmaker Aleksandr Sokurov has said that he views Faust as the completion of his quartet of films about men of power on the verge of losing that power that also includes Moloch (1999) about Hitler, Telets (2001) about Lenin and The Sun (2005) about Hirohito. I have not seen Moloch or Telets, but did see (and greatly admired) The Sun. Faust is a different movie of course – the central character spends most of the film debating whether or not to sell his soul. He is not interested in power in the traditional sense – like Hitler, Lenin or Hirohito – but power on a different level.

The film with two images that are in immediate contrast, and let the viewer know what they’re in for over the next two hours and twenty minutes – a grander, CGI laden swirling shot of the German town the movie will be set, and then immediately cuts to a shot of a corpses’ limp penis. Faust (Johannes Zeiler) is dissecting the body to try and learn it’s mysteries – like where the soul may reside (something that interests his assistant far more than Faust, who isn’t sure it exists at all if he cannot find it). It’s an ugly scene, filled with death and decay – that the movie will pretty much wallow in for nearly its entire runtime.

Most of the movie is made up of Faust walking around this thoroughly ugly town with Mauricius (Anton Adasinsky), the film’s Mephistopheles character, debating and negotiating the price of Faust’s soul. Faust wants knowledge, wealth, power and the beautiful Margarete (Isolda Dychauk) – something Mauricius makes more difficult, as he gets Faust involved in a brawl that end’s with Faust killing Margarete’s brother. Mauricius will get Faust into all sorts of trouble through the film’s long, slow buildup to the moment where Faust actually sells him his soul. Mauricius is the film’s most interesting character – a far cry from the typically charming and attractive Mephistopheles character. He is ugly, fat, smells bad, and when he strips naked, reveals he has no penis, but a strange little tail. He’s also not all that smart – when he gives Faust the contract to sign, Faust first spends time correcting the spelling and grammar before signing.

The film is deliberately ugly pretty much from start to finish. Sokurov shots in a boxier aspect ratio than most films, and often distorts the imagery. Almost everyone we meet in the film is ugly and vile in one way or another – not quite as bad as Mauricius, but close. The film wallows in mud, blood and shit for most of the time it’s running – all of which serves to make the already angelic looking Margarete seem even more so.

As a visual experience, Faust is almost never pleasant, and yet it certainly is one of the distinctive visual films of the year. Sokurov is the director, after all, of Russian Ark – a film made entirely in one, 90 minute shot through a Russian museum which tells Russian history in one go. His camera here is just as restless as it was in Russian Ark, but to different affect. Sokurov and his brilliant cinematography – Bruno Delbonnel – have crafted a film that if nothing else, at least looks like no other movie you’ll see this year. There is nothing beautiful about Faust – not in the traditional sense anyway.

Thematically, I have no idea what to make of Faust. Is Sokurov saying that Faust is essentially the same as Hitler, Lenin and Hirohito – a man willing to sell his soul as a way to satisfy his own ego? What then to make of the film’s final scene, which seems an odd way to end the movie.

There is a reason why Faust won the top prize at the 2011 Venice Film Festival – even above great films, that may more mainstream – like Alfredson’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Cronenberg’s A Dangerous Method, Friedkin’s Killer Joe or McQueen’s Shame. This is film art. There is also a reason why it took more than 2 years to be released in North America – it is a thoroughly unpleasant experience. That isn’t necessary a shot at the film – it was designed to be unpleasant – but the film is also rather tedious at times (it takes a long time to do just about everything), at times confusing, and ultimately perplexing. If you think the film sounds interesting, but all means check it out – there will be some who think it’s a masterpiece. There will also be some who think it damn near unwatchable. You’ve been warned.

Movie Review: Ernest & Celestine

Ernest & Celestine
Directed by: Stéphane Aubier & Vincent Patar & Benjamin Renner.
Written by: Daniel Pennac.

Ernest & Celestine, like many animated films made outside of America, points out many of the ways in which Hollywood animated films go wrong. American animation have become all about non-stop action –fast cutting, and a constant barrage of color. Hollywood, it seems, thinks that children need constant motion and distraction or else they`ll grow restless and bored. Ernest & Celestine, made in French and based on a series of popular children`s books, is a gentle animated film – one that takes its time, and tells an interesting story about an unlikely friendship. It isn`t a great animated film, but it is a refreshing one.

The movie takes place in a world inhabited only by mice and bears. The mice live below ground and are taught from a young age that all bears want to do is eat mice – and as many as they can. Bears, on the other hand, think that mice are disease ridden and are not worthy of any thought whatsoever. The two main characters, however, think something different. Celestine, a young mouse raised in an orphanage, thinks that perhaps bears are misunderstood – and wants to be friends with a bear. Ernest the bear, works as a street performer – singing songs for change, and lives out in the middle of nowhere. It’s clear that the both of these characters have essentially been rejected by their own kind. Through a series of events, the two meet, and slowly but surely develop a friendship – when they are pretty much forced to hide out from everyone else – who think the two are criminals and want to arrest them.

I liked the visual look of Ernest & Celestine – which utilizes hand drawn animation, which Hollywood has all but abandoned in recent years. The film’s characters look like they stepped out of a children’s book – which of course they did. The trio of directors - Stéphane Aubier & Vincent Patar & Benjamin Renner – also bring this storybook feeling to the background – making use of white space effectively. Yes, the film is decidedly low-key visually, compared to Hollywood films, but that’s one of the reasons I liked it. The visuals are matched by the story, which is essentially tells how these two lovable misfits, meet and gradually become friends. Celestine is simple and innocent – she wants to believe the best in everyone. Ernest seems a little older, and is definitely a more cynical. He expects nothing from anyone – and although he saves Celestine, more than once, his prejudice against mice is ingrained in him. But even someone as gruff as Ernest can only resist Celestine so long.

Ernest & Celestine will probably play better to younger children – although I do hope older children give the film a chance. Yes, the story is low-key – there are a few “action” sequences, but mainly this is a story about friendship, and not judging others by who they are on the outside. It’s a simple story – matched by its simple animation – but I thought the film was charming in a way that most animated films aren’t anymore. This is a film that takes its time to build its characters – that doesn’t try to pump up the action or give you a headache with nonstop action. Ernest & Celestine offers simple pleasures to be sure – but they are the kind of pleasures that few animated films do anymore.

Movie Review: Our Children

Our Children
Directed by: Joachim Lafosse.
Written by: Thomas Bidegain & Joachim Lafosse & Matthieu Reynaert.
Starring: Niels Arestrup (André Pinget), Tahar Rahim (Mounir), Émilie Dequenne (Murielle), Stéphane Bissot (Françoise), Mounia Raoui (Fatima Pinget), Redouane Behache (Samir), Baya Belal (Rachida), Nathalie Boutefeu (Le docteur De Clerck).

There are few things more tragic and heartbreaking than when a mother murders her children. Whenever a story like that appears, it speaks an immediate, almost visceral reaction with everyone agreeing that the woman must be some kind of a monster, and a few calls for more screening for post- partum depression, and that’s about it. These stories are too frequent, and they are always heartbreaking. The Belgium film, Our Children (the original title translates into To Lose One’s Mind which is more appropriate, but also more awkward) tells the story of one such incident based on a real life case. While the film certainly does not excuse the actions of the woman who we know from the beginning will murder her children, what it does do is make her into a real human being. We often assume in cases like this that the woman must have been abused – but that’s not really the case here. There is no one moment that leads her to do what she does – but instead a slow, steady culmination until she does the unthinkable.

The woman is Murielle, and is played by Emilie Dequenne (best known for her Cannes prize winning performance in the Dardennes Rosetta) in a subtle, brilliant performance. She is a Belgium woman who falls in love with Mounir (Tahar Rahim from A Prophet), a Moroccan immigrant. Mounir and his whole family has been under the watchful guidance of Dr. Andre Pinget (Niels Arestrup – also from A Prophet) – who seems to be a surrogate father figure for Mounir. Unable to find a well-paying job, Andre gives Mounir a job at his medical office – and after they are married, the young couple moves in with him. One child after another follow in quick succession – 4 in 6 years. And Murielle starts to fall apart under the stress.

The fact that Rahim and Arestup co-starred in A Prophet together adds a layer to Our Children. In that film, Rahim played a young Arab man sent to prison, where Arestrup’s veteran gangster takes him under his wing and shows him the ropes – until Rahim outgrows him and becomes even worse. The relationship between the two characters here is similar, but not exactly the same. Rahim’s Mounir is more passive than his character in A Prophet was – more willing to be dominated by Arestrup. There are moments where we futilely hope that Mounir may be able to break free from Andre – moments where he talks to Murielle, sees how miserable she is, and agrees that at the very least they should get their own apartment – or perhaps move to Morocco, where she may have more support. She doesn’t like being under the gaze of Arestrup – and wants to break free. And he always agrees – until he talks to Andre. For his part, Andre never really crosses the line into outright abuse of Murielle – he insults her, but not overly harshly and promises things he doesn’t deliver. And Mounir seems more than willing to follow his lead – the harsher Andre treats Murielle, the harsher her husband does as well. Both actors – but especially Arestrup – are excellent in their roles as two men who eventually break Murielle down, without ever quite realizing what they are doing.

But Dequenne is ever better as Murielle. I mentioned the Dardenne’s Rosetta earlier, and I bring it up here again, because in many ways the strategy of the Dardennes and the director of this movie – Joachim Lafoosse – is similar. In both cases, they stand back and observe their characters. The do not judge, but slowly over the course of the movie filled with such seeming inactivity and mundane moments, a portrait of their central characters emerge. Dequenne’s performance here is quite different from her breakthrough in Rosetta – where she was a fiercely determined young woman who just wanted a job. Here, she slowly, subtlety but undeniably breaks down. Dequenne doesn’t say as much through the movie, but the way she carries herself changes as the movie progresses – her shoulder stomp, she becomes more fearful of saying anything offensive to the two men in her life. There is a mesmerizing shot of her in car singing along to what sounds like a sickly sweet pop song, where she slowly breaks down into tears. It is a mesmerizing moment.

In the end, Laflosse’s film doesn’t excuse Murielle’s actions – how could it possibly do that? It also, smartly, doesn’t show precisely what she does, although the moments we spend with her children, who she one by one calls into her room are among the most chilling in any movie this year. What the movie does do is show her as a person – and show how moment to moment, day to day, year to year, she was slowly broken down until she got to the point where she did something monstrous. I’m sure some viewers will hate Our Children – they’ll want more defined reasons, more closure, more condemnation – but the very fact that Laflosse doesn’t give the audience these things they think they want is the very reason why the film works as well as it does.

Movie Review: White Reindeer

White Reindeer
Directed by: Zach Clark.   
Written by: Zach Clark.
Starring: Anna Margaret Hollyman (Suzanne Barrington), Laura Lemar-Goldsborough (Fantasia), Lydia Hyslop (Patti), Joe Swanberg (George), Chris Doubek (Detective Ross), Marissa Molnar (Latifa), Fernanda Tapia (Fresca), Nathan Williams (Jeff Barrington), Yvonne Erickson (Mrs. Boxter - Suzanne's Mother), Leo Erickson (Mr. Boxter - Suzanne's Father). 

Christmas is supposed to be the happiest time of the year – but we all know that isn’t precisely true for many people. Most Christmas movies rub our noses in the perfect family holidays that we have no chance of ever replicating in our own lives. The ones that don’t do that aggressively go the other way – a film like Bad Santa which is just about the funniest Christmas movie ever made is also the least family friendly one I can recall. Yet while we have had quite a few of both of those kinds of films over the years, I’m nor sure I’ve ever quite seen a Christmas movie like White Reindeer – which is pretty much depressing from beginning to end, yet somehow avoids the trap of just being depressing for depressing sake. It isn’t great movie, but it’s a hell of an effort from writer-director Zach Clark.

Anna Margaret Hollyman stars as Suzanne – a happy realtor, with a seemingly perfect husband and a life that is about to take off. Her husband, a local weather man, has been offered a job in Hawaii – and the couple prepares for one final Christmas at home in Vermont. Then Suzanne comes home one day to find her husband’s head has been bashed in during a robbery. Now she’s a young widow – her employer tells her to take a few months off, and her husband’s best friend uses the opportunity of her husband’s funeral to relieve himself of the guilt of admitting that her husband had had an affair with a stripper a few months earlier. Suzanne’s life, which seemed so perfect, is now in the crapper – and she has no way to pull herself out of it.

All of this probably makes White Reindeer sound like a depressing film. To a certain extent it is. But a few things keep the film from being just a parade of miserablism. The first thin is the wonderful lead performance by Anna Margaret Hollyman. It is a subtle performance – her Suzanne never truly breaks down in histrionics like we expect her to – there is very little crying or raging in the film. Inside, hers is a slow implosion as she tries to distract herself from how miserable her life has become. At first, it’s spending too much money on clothes and Christmas decorations. Then she decides to track down the stripper his husband had an affair with. This is Fantasia (Laura Lemar-Goldsborough) who is not quite the hateful slut we expect her to be. She is fairly smart – a young woman trying hard to raise her daughter, and take care of her aging mother. Her first interaction with Suzanne doesn’t go like we expect it to – there is no yelling or screaming, accusations or tearful apologies. Instead the two women simply acknowledge each other – they share a connection because they both loved Suzanne’s husband, and now he’s gone. The two even become friends – sort of. Suzanne is a little older, and gets a little fed up with Fantasia and her friends at times, but mainly they find a deeper connection than we thought possible. Even this newfound friendship isn’t enough to save Suzanne however – who will degrade herself at a party hosted by mumblecore stalwart Joe Swanberg and his wife. I’m not quite sure I bought this scene, but it was necessary to show just how far Suzanne has fallen.

I admired much of White Reindeer, even if at times it strains for credibility. Writer-director Zach Clark has talent. I did not see his previous films, but on the basis of White Reindeer, I will be sure to keep an eye out for his next one. The film never quite did what I expected it to – it kept me guessing, and Hollyman's excellent performance kept the film grounded no matter what was going in the movie. The final shot in the movie is the most hopeful one – and shows that no matter how hard you try, you cannot make a completely depressing Christmas movie.

Movie Review: Is the Man Who is Tall Happy?

Is the Man Who Is Tall Happy?: An Animated Conversation with Noam Chomsky
Directed by: Michel Gondry.
Written by: Michel Gondry.
Featuring: Michel Gondry, Noam Chomsky.

At the beginning of Is the Man Who is Tall Happy, director Michel Gondry explains his decision to animate his film – which is basically just a number of discussions between him and Noam Chomsky – one of the most famous American intellectuals alive. Basically, Gondry “discovered” Gondry through a few DVDs he found in New York – which I suppose is how most people discover Chomsky. But Gondry was always aware that while those films are supposed Chomsky talking directly to the audience, the director is always making decisions on what to show, so in reality it is the director and Chomsky talking to the audience. By animating his film, Gondry hopes to call attention to this artificiality – or at the very least acknowledge it. Gondry also admits that animating things helped him – English is not his first language, so at times he can get confused when Chomsky starts talking about his complex ideas – animation helped him to make sense of it.

I’m not really sold on the first argument. I suspect that anyone who is going to willingly watch a movie where Noam Chomsky speaks for an hour and a half is already well aware of the various filters between Chomsky and his audience when directed by someone else. I’m not really sure on the second argument either – Gondry’s animation rarely offers much real insight into what Chomsky is saying – if Chomsky talks about dogs, Gondry draws dogs, if he talks about water, he draws water, etc. Yet whether or not I think Gondry’s reasons for animating his documentary about Chomsky makes sense or not, I’m still glad he did it. If nothing else, it at least gives us something entirely different to look at during the runtime of the movie than most documentaries do – especially ones focused entirely on one person or two people in conversation with each other, which most of the time would simply be a couple of talking heads. And Gondry has always been an inventive filmmaker and animator – even in his live action films – and he experiments throughout the film with different styles of animation which are always a joy to look at.

Chomsky is a gifted speaker, but he’s not a speaker who seems very interested in making things simple for other people to understand. He talks and talks throughout the movie, and it’s clear he’s said much of this countless times before, and he doesn’t seem very interested in deviating from what he has to say – he often dismisses Gondry’s questions, and talks about what he wants to talk about instead. For his part, Gondry tries to keep up, but admits to at times being confused and at other times just being flat out wrong. Yet the message that Chomsky is trying to convey in the film is relatively simple – and that is that we should be willing to be confused by what seems obvious. He talks a lot about children in the film – how they learn language skills – and you can sense a certain admiration he has for the ways children always ask why. Chomsky feels there is not enough questioning very basic assumptions we have in science and every other academic field – and that if people don’t start questioning what they think they know, then we’ll never move forward. There is not much talk of the politics which have gotten Chomsky into trouble over the years (Gondry dismisses claims that Chomsky is anti-American in his introduction, and leaves it at that) – and Chomsky mainly pushes aside questions of his personal life – including his long marriage. Chomsky wants to talk about his ideas, and that is what he gives Gondry.

The film is interesting throughout – but you pretty much have to go in wanting and expecting to listen to Chomsky speak for 90 minutes. In a way, the film is as review proof as any blockbuster – if you want to listen to Chomsky speak, you’ll see the movie no matter what I say – and if you don’t nothing I can say will change your mind. For me, it’s another interesting film for Gondry. No matter what Gondry does in his career, it is unlikely that he’ll ever top his 2004 masterpiece Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. He has tried a few times, taken a foray into more mainstream filmmaker, and some detours into documentary and neo-realism. He seems to still be searching for himself. That makes him an interesting director to watch. He doesn’t always make a great film – and Is the Man Who is Tall Happy is not great – but he rarely makes one that is wholly uninteresting.

Movie Review: The Punk Singer

The Punk Singer: A Film About Kathleen Hanna
Directed by: Sini Anderson.
As the lead singer of Bikini Kill in the early 1990s, Kathleen Hanna inspired many and infuriated almost as many. She was a beautiful young woman, a former stripper, who talked like a Valley Girl, was not above using her sexuality to draw attention to herself and her band – who was also a committed feminist, who sang about topics like rape and incest. She also had an undeniable stage presence – the clips of the band in concert are a highlight of the film, as Hanna is full of energy – and like all great “front men” she was able to weave a spell over the audience.

The Punk Singer: A Film About Kathleen Hanna was directed by Sini Anderson, who is obviously a fan of Hanna’s. While the film acknowledges that there were many people who questioned Hanna back then – some harshly – the documentary doesn’t really interview them to get their point of view. They exist only as a few snippets of articles that the film shows, and in the memory of Hanna and those who know and love her. The film doesn’t really try to be objective about Hanna or her beliefs – in that way, it isn’t so much like the fanzines and newsletters Hanna published and gave out at their shows – pure advocacy for the cause. While including some of the naysayers may have made The Punk Singer a more complete – and perhaps complex – documentary, I’m not sure it would have been much better. This is basically Kathleen Hanna in her own words – and taken as purely that, the film is very good.

The movie is a fairly standard musician biopic documentary – telling about Hanna’s rise from obscurity into semi-stardom. I say semi-stardom, because while Bikini Kill got a lot of press when it was at the peak of its popularity in the mid-1990s, the band never really made all that much money. They were a sort of offshoot on the grunge movement in Seattle – Hanna was friends with Kurt Cobain, which may be why Courtney Love cold cocked her at Lollapalooza one year (according to Hanna, it was completely unprovoked – which makes sense since Courtney Love is insane). The band forms despite the fact that none of them really know how to play their instruments that well (they learn on the job) – and Hanna had never been a lead singer before (she was a slam poet, but someone advised her if she wanted attention, to join a band – no one listens to poetry).

What is different is Hanna herself. In the poem that opens the movies she says she’s a “woman who won’t shut up” – and that’s a fairly good description of her. She has opinions, and she lets everyone know what they are. Her lyrics are not subtle – but in your face, much like her singing style – although they do have a strange beauty to them at times. The songs are not always pleasant – they’re not always brilliant – but they do contain a strange poetry.

The film is equally fascinating in dealing with Hanna’s post-Bikini Kill life – her solo project, Julie Ruin, which she recorded herself in her bedroom, followed by another band – Le Tigre – and then a long, undiagnosed illness, before coming back with The Julie Ruin. Hanna may not quite be a household name – but her work has left a mark. She is a woman who still believes in feminism when so many people question whether it still exists (it does) and whether it’s still important (it is). And she’s going to sing about it no matter what anyone thinks.

My biggest problem with the doc is the same one I have with many musician docs – so perhaps I’m the only one who feels this way – and that is that Anderson rarely (if ever) lets a whole song play. I had to hit Youtube after the movie to hear full songs by Hanna in her various bands, because I only got a small flavor for her work by watching the documentary. That’s a shame – because some of the music is great – and to me, if you’re going to celebrate the life of a musician, you should celebrate their music. Scorsese gets this, which is why his docs on Dylan and George Harrison contain more music than most other docs like it (and perhaps that’s why they’re both 4 hours long). It’s a shame this documentary doesn’t allow the songs to play in full. Hanna may not be Dylan – but she has something to say worth listening to.

Movie Review: Which Way is the Front Line From Here?

Which Way Is the Front Line from Here? The Life and Time of Tim Hetherington
Directed by: Sebastian Junger.

In 2011, while covering the war in Libya in 2011, war photographer and documentary filmmaker Tim Hetherington was killed. Heatherton spent his professional life photographing war torn countries – in Sierra Leone, in Liberia, in Afghanistan and finally in Libya, where he was killed. Hetherington knew the risk of his profession – and willingly took them. While there was probably something of an adrenaline junkie in him that made him go back time and again into dangerous situations, what the film makes clear is that Hetherington had a big heart – he was well liked by everyone who met him, and more than anything he just wanted to capture the truth with his camera.

The film was directed by Sebastian Junger, who back in 2008 decided he wanted to make a documentary about the war in Afghanistan from the point of view of the American forces there. Not having any experience directing – let alone filming in war zones, he knew he needed someone who did – and when he met Hetherington, he found his perfect collaborator. The resulting film was Restrepo – which was nominated for an Oscar in 2010 – and deservingly so. Restrepo is a documentary that pretty much leaves politics out of the equation – what they wanted to do, and what they did, was capture what is like on the ground for the soldiers. The pair spent months with these soldiers, who learned to respect them. It may well have been the success of Restrepo that made Hetherington want to get back to work right away – while he was walking the Red Carpet for the Oscar ceremony in early 2011, the Arab world was exploding in revolution. While he didn’t have to go back, he did.

Which Way is the Front Line from Here is not a movie that looks very deeply (really not at all) at any of the wars Hetherington covered. There are other films for that (including Restrepo of course). What the film is then is a tribute to the man by those who worked with him or those who loved him. When we see him in archival interviews, he comes across as a smart, engaged, charming and funny person – it’s not hard to see why many people loved him.

As a tribute then, the film works just fine. As a documentary, I’m not quite so sure. As I said, you don’t see any of the details of the conflicts he covered – they are outside of the scope of the movie – but you also really don’t get much in the way of a detailed look inside the life of a war photographer. It is a tribute to Hetherington, and not much else. Personally, I would have preferred a more in-depth examination of the man and his profession. Instead, aside from one brief moment, no questions anything Hetherington ever did, and the film never really explores why he felt the desire to throw himself into these war zones constantly.

Yet I also understand that objectivity in this case is downright impossible. The film was made by a colleague and a friend – one who is clearly still reeling from the loss. As a tribute to Hetherington, Which Way to the Front Line from Here is stirring, emotional stuff. Would it be a better film had it had more distance from Hetherington? Perhaps – but it would have had to be made by someone else, and would have been a very different film.

Movie Review: The Armstrong Lie

The Armstrong Lie
Directed by: Alex Gibney.
Written by:  Alex Gibney. 

Director Alex Gibney is a smart guy. Since his breakthrough film in 2005 – Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room – he has also been the most prolific documentary filmmaker I can think of – making a series of feature documentaries, as well as documentaries for TV and as part of omnibus films – ranging from political films to sports films to the sexual abuse scandal in the Catholic Church to portraits of artists and writers to his last film before The Armstrong Lie – We Steal Secrets: The Story of Wikileaks. We seemingly cannot go a year without at least one new Gibney film coming out – often more than that. He won an Oscar for Taxi to the Dark Side – which is a great film in itself, even if I think his Eliot Spitzer documentary, Client 9, or the Enron doc are even better. In short, Gibney has made a nice career for himself as a documentary filmmaker – often telling stories about people who are liars. That was one of my problems with The Armstrong Lie – which is basically a fine documentary, albeit a none too surprising one. In 2009 Gibney was given access to Armstrong and his team as he attempted his comeback at the Tour de France after three years away. Armstrong wanted to win again, and erase all doubt that he cheated by using performance enhancing drugs – and Gibney says he wholeheartedly believed Armstrong – and felt betrayed when it was proven that Armstrong did in fact cheat – not just in 2009 but in all his Tour de France victories. My question is this: Did anyone really “wholeheartedly” believe in Armstrong in 2009? There was already enough evidence to at least cast doubt – and certainly someone like Gibney, who made many docs about liars, should have at least been suspicious.

The film jumps around in time – perhaps a little too much – from 2009 when Gibney had more access than anyone else to Armstrong (still not complete, as Armstrong and his handlers try desperately to control his public image) to the aftermath of the final proof that Armstrong did in fact cheat, and his interview with Oprah where Armstrong came kind of clean – but still justified everything he did by basically saying “Well everyone else did it. I just did it better”. And then we also flashback to the 1990s as Armstrong battles back from cancer, and to his various other Tour de France victories – and all the allegations that followed each and every one. Basically the film becomes a portrait of a man who lies nearly constantly – and his lies are so big and so bold that many people believe them. They believe them because they want to believe them. It’s too good a story for a cancer survivor to come back from death’s door to become one of the greatest athletes on the planet not to want to believe it. Which, of course, is precisely why we shouldn’t have believed it in the first place. Armstrong isn’t even that good of a liar – he freezes, he pauses, he gets overly defensive, his smile seems phony. Of course, I say that in retrospect when we know he’s lying, but there are plenty of people who didn’t believe him Armstrong the whole time. After all, if everyone else who finishes near the top of the Tour de France is caught cheating – and they all were – how the hell could Armstrong not be cheating? How much better can he possibly be?

Rare for a Gibney movie, he places himself in the thick of the action for this film. He isn’t normally a Michael Moore type who thrusts himself into the movie, but although we don’t see Gibney often, we hear him a lot – and this is not typical third person documentary narration, but very personal narration. Gibney is mad because Armstrong looked him in the eye and lied to him – and because Gibney believed that lie and now feels betrayed. Gibney’s personal narrative in the film didn’t interest me much – mainly because I didn’t buy it. However, there is a bigger story here about Armstrong, lying and the culture of professional sports where the attitude has become win at all costs. We were probably naïve to think it was ever anything but win at all costs – but I don’t think we can anymore. The Armstrong Lie isn’t one of Gibney’s best documentaries – but it’s a fascinating one just the same. Besides, I’m sure they’ll be another Gibney doc along any minute now. Maybe that one will rank higher.

Movie Review: Pussy Riot: A Punk Prayer

Pussy Riot: A Punk Prayer
Directed by:  Mike Lerner & Maxim Pozdorovkin.

As musicians, Pussy Riot aren’t very good. Even by punk music standards, their songs are loud, semi-incoherent, with no melody or rhythm, played by people who don’t really know how to play instruments. But Pussy Riot really isn’t about the music itself – they are more performance artists than they are musicians. Angry at Vladimir Putin, and in particular how closely tied his Presidency has been to Orthodox faith, they staged a “performance” during mass at Moscow’s Cathedral of Christ the Savior on February 21, 2012. Basically, the stormed the pulpit, in the brightly colored balaclavas, and performed for 30 seconds, before be dragged out by security. They expected that would happen. What they didn’t expect to happen was that they would be charged and face years in prison – and that they would spark international debate.

The documentary Pussy Riot: A Punk Prayer doesn’t pretend to be an objective look at the case – the filmmakers are clearly on the side of the members of Pussy Riot, which is fine, because you have to not believe in freedom of speech to be against them. You may think that Pussy Riot crossed the line with their performance – that people attending Church Services have the right not to have that service taken over by political activists screaming at them. I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with you on that one – everyone should have the right to practice whatever religion they want to. But the punishment has to fit the crime. A 30 second performance art piece in a church shouldn’t cause an international stir or threaten land the women in jail for years.

What Pussy Riot: A Punk Prayer makes clear is that the three women who were charged were never given a fair trial – basically, they had a show trial, so that Russian could claim they gave them their day in court, but the odds were stacked against them from the start, and they never had a chance of being found anything but guilty, and sent to prison. While the reaction from outside Russia was almost universal condemnation of Putin and the trial, and in support of Pussy Riot, that certainly was not the case inside of Russia. Even the women’s parents, who are usually supportive of their daughter’s performance art (including, for one woman, having sex in the Biology Museum), think their daughters should have known better than to take on the Church in the way they did. Throughout the course of the movie, we see TV shows that are billed as a debate about their actions, and in reality are just a bunch of people piling on to see who can decry Pussy Riot the loudest. The reaction from the Orthodox community is even scarier – ranging from people who claim to have been deeply offended or “injured” by the performance, people comparing what they did to the Communists outlawing Religion after the Communist Revolution, and some saying that women should be at home raising kids, not engaging in politics at all. What Pussy Riot certainly has their defenders inside Russia, they seem to be in the minority.

Pussy Riot: A Punk Prayer is at its best when focusing on the three women put on trial – Nadia, Masha and Katia – who the filmmakers give a full backstory to, and treat as individuals – something that most of the coverage around the event has not given. These are smart, articulate women who do not like what is happening to their country, and are willing to sacrifice to try and make it better.

Pussy Riot: A Punk Prayer follows a traditional documentary approach – all leading up to the show trial in the last third, where although the women are allowed to speak rather freely and defiantly in court, it’s quite clear that no one is really listening to them. Last year, there was an even better documentary than this called Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry, about the famed Chinese artist, who was also arrested. What this movie shares with that one is a look at a once brutal regime that is trying to sell itself to the outside world as having changed for the better – when in reality they still have a long way to go. You can argue that Pussy Riot shouldn’t have done what they did – that it was disrespectful to other people’s religious freedom – but they did it with a point. That the Russian government was infringing on THEIR religious freedom. You may disagree with what they did – but can you really say they deserve what happened as a result?