Charlie Countryman goes to Bucharest

Film critics are not as mean as we think. Film critics watch a shit load of mediocre films. And, film critics get tired of watching those mediocre new releases day after day. They do feel the desperate need to get it out of their system. And, that's why they are being mean -I do understand, and I sympathise.

"This is a movie with a chalk-outline around it", Peter Bradshaw wrote on The Guardian. And it gets worse: "this catastrophe of a movie zigzags drunkenly between action-adventure and surreal comedy with some magical realism slopped over it like ketchup", states with no mercy Stephen Holden on New York Times. Yet, this far from the worse film either of us has seen, and we all know it deep down. It is a film with Shia LaBeouf though, and reviewers do not like him quite as much as teenage girls do. Well, I do not like him either, but the film was ok, leaving its cliches behind. No matter the bitter reviews, The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman (2013), as the film is also known, got a Golden Bear nomination at the Berlinale and is the first feature by talented director Frendrik Bond who was into music videos and ads before.

Interesting visually, how could it not be, as it was set in Bucharest, such a vibrant and not as mundanely central European -not like the cities we're used to roam around, so to say. So, the backdrop is inspiring, the lovely quasi-Romanian and destructive female lead is inspiring, too, even if she is plain American and in fact under her skin hides a short-haired Evan Rachel Wood. Mads Mikkelsen is not doing much with his role, but we still like him. Music is good (featuring Moby in the soundtrack), whereas rhythm sometimes not particularly so.

All the lonely people

After eating a box of chocolate truffles dipped in glitter in an effort to cure my not-feeling-well mood, and after remembering that last night I practically devoured 3 doughnuts with cream filling inside the super-market, cause there was no way I could wait to pay for them first, Eleanor Rigby came on my mind. Not specifically her, but all the lonely people who walk in the city and pretend to be too busy even to smile to the person they just crossed, while in reality they would love to drink a coffee or a beer with someone. But, not just anyone, and that's where the problem (if you can call it a problem) lies. 

Lonely people are in fact a bit too selective. They are fond of their memories, and they are sentimental. They find it hard to attach, and even harder to detach. They cherish imaginary friends and relationships, and keep a place in their heart for those who are no longer around. They are maybe introverts or just highly sensitive or just deeply hurt. Or nothing from all the above -I won't pretend I have the key to human psyche. 

I know that in this particular case, Eleanor Rigby is deeply hurt indeed. Profoundly sad and lonely she is, only because she felt the ultimate bliss, only because she knew how it is to be in love with the one. Until things went sour. Jessica Chastain is the redhead in the poster and the disappearing girl in the title. Her other half on screen for this set of films is James McAvoy. They are both brilliant -some of those actors whose performance is rarely questioned, just because they seem so natural in everyone's shoes. Why did I say "set of films"? If you're wondering, you probably haven't heard that newcomer Ned Benson had the poignant idea to shoot two films with the same title, and the exact same story, only different. One is from the point of view of the guy, the other is from the point of the view of the lady, that's why we have The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Him (2013) and  The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Her (2013). 

I have watched both films back to back, which is the right thing to do, after all, to notice similarities and differences.  Giving credit to popular belief that men and women have a totally different point of view  and react in a different way to the same situations (or else Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus), Benson decided not only to include new, unknown parts of each characters' story in each film, but also to have the actors give a slightly different performance in the same scene from one film to the other, whether it is for the tone of voice, facial expression or even the words they decided to use. How does it feel when each party feels that it's the other one to blame?

Live Cinema: Orphans of the Storm (1921)

Orphans of the Storm is an animal shelter in Riverwoods, Illinois; that's what I learnt from a comprehensive search on Google, where the above shelter features as the top result and a far more popular one than the film it got the inspiration for its title in the first place.

I honestly hope, thought, that you guys have heard of this epic film, the last commercial success for D.W. Griffith and a not a less grandiose one; Not quitting the habit of  high production values and bigger-than-life story lines, after The Birth of a Nation (1915), Intolerance (1916) -which I dearly remember watching on my name day in National Gallery's Auditorium in London years ago-, Broken Blossoms (1919) and some others in between, Griffith decided to take on French Revolution from his point of view, always a particular one: this time he wanted to preach against Bolshevism (funny word, ainnit?)

He used as first material the well-known play by D'Ennery The Two Orphans and he managed to stretch it up to three (!) hours with intermission. I had the chance to see the original roadshow copy, just as I had the big, admittedly, chance to enjoy the use of the loo during the intermission. The screening was the glorious ending of a very good season of Live Cinema, a successful joint venture by Cinematheque de la Ville de Luxembourg and Philharmonie over the years. On 2014 I also managed to watch the re-mastered copy of Pandora's Box by G.W. Pabst, with lovely Louise Brooks in her signature hairdo as Lulu with live music from Ensemble Kontraste conducted by Frank Strobel. If that one was an interesting experience - a Lulu of giant proportions leading men to destruction behind the conductors baguette-, The Orphans of the Storm (1921) was an all-in-all thrilling experience.

Les Ames de Papier (2013)

I have to admit my main interest in this film was its female lead, Julie Gayet. Who has been the main interest of too many people lately, namely France's first man, and the new eye-candy or should I say prey for media in France and the rest of the world alike. Yes, I went to see the film out of curiosity; Imagine, Gayet is announced as the president of the Jury at Discovery Zone film festival in Luxembourg, possibly tied to life as the president's significant other, and I was unaware of her existence -or should I say talent- until now.

The Hairdresser's Husband is here to welcome you

Roger Ebert, the man who knows too much, recently added Le Mari de La Coiffeuse (1990) -as the original French title goes- in his list of Great Movies. "It is about our foolish dreams", he writes. The Hairdresser's Husband is not only a great movie. It's a great, (imaginary) place, where people dare to be different, live disconnected from society and whichever norms it sets, where people are free to exist as they please with their sole compass crazy fantasies and childhood aspirations.

Jean Rochefort and Anna Galiena make an unusual couple; in his forties, he proposes the fist time he sees her, while she is about to finish giving him a haircut on a leather chair in her barber's shop. He doesn't even know her name. He pays and excuses himself before he leaves, only to come back two weeks after for one more haircut. She accepts his proposal before he has the time to tell her his name, let alone repeat the proposal itself. A calm life full of consuming passion awaits them.

After the most unconventional wedding scene I ever remember watching, after an uninterrupted fixation for one another, after many idle days and afternoons where Antoine does nothing but silently adores his long-awaited hairdresser wife Mathilde, the spell is broken. Ten years of peaceful co-existence, during which no friends, children or other incidents spoil their romantic bubble are too good to be true. Mathilde melancholically  sways in her 50s print dresses and wavy hair, content with the present, but with a hidden fear for the future. Too scared of the realistic possibility of suddenly facing loss, she decides to leave first.

The Great Gatsby (2013) or On film adaptations

An unhappy child creates illusions of grandeur to escape his misery. A man who achieves realisation of his illusions of grandeur, content at last. Is he? Shouldn't he be? But, isn't  it part of the human nature to be unsatisfied? Is there not a tiny evasive detail that will unforgivably stain forever the tableaux vivant of our perfect lives?

Fill the Void (2012)

Discovery Zone Luxembourg City Film Festival  -as the full title goes- brought lovely Rama Burshtein over, to present her first overwhelmingly successful feature Fill the Void (2012). Audience was too shy to ask important questions during the Q & A sessions -we're in Northern Europe after all- but I was surprised enough to find out for myself that Rama is a smoker and that she became a supporter of the Haredi Jewish community (the most conservative form of orthodox Judaism according to Wikipedia) on her own will, and not as a result of parental upbringing. Last but not least, she is quite humble and she actually feels strongly about respect towards women -her community does show great respect to them, she asserts (even if to some of us the film gives slight hints for the opposite). 

Slumdog Millionaire with RIFF

One more afternoon exploring cultures left us impressed with its organisation, variety and vigour; it also reminded us of Slumdog Millionaire, and it did well -because every other time you read a book or watch a film, different aspects of it talk to you, lull and mesmerise you. Every other time it's like the first time, and that took me a long time to learn; being a kid who wanted to attain all the wisdom of the world gave me an appetite for the new, always the new, and hindered me from appreciating the glare of the old gold.