A Woman in Berlin (2008)

“Berlin is one big whorehouse.”

A Woman in Berlin (Anonyma-Eine Frau in Berlin) is based on the anonymous diaries of a young German woman. The nameless woman (who’s given the name Anonyma and is played by the incredible German actress Nina Hoss) is a journalist. The book,  published in Germany in the 50s, was not well-received and its author was accused of dishonouring German women. After her death, the book was republished and it became a bestseller. Then came this film version from director Max Farberbock.

The story takes place over a period of about 8 weeks and is set entirely in Berlin. When the film begins, it’s April 26th, 1945, and Berlin is a bombed out shell. The opening scene shows civilians picking their way over debris as they frantically try to find shelter from the bullets and constant explosions. A group of civilians huddle in an underground shelter. They are mainly women and children with a few older men amongst them.

Then as time passes, the explosions cease and an ominous silence begins. The silence is broken with the sounds of heavy equipment passing on the road above. The Red Army has arrived, and it’s just a matter of time before the German civilians are discovered hiding.

At first, the relations between the Soviet Red Army soldiers and the starving German civilians are very tentative. The Soviets encourage the women to step outside of their shelter and get food. By this time, a huge wagon piled full of potatoes sits out on a street, and within a little while, some of the women emerge to seek food. But as victory for the Russians sinks in, the German women are raped repeatedly. Age and illness are no defense. Married women are raped in front of their husbands.

After the first rapes take place, the women reassemble themselves and carry on as best they can. They return to their apartments in a vast building, and try to survive. Anonyma (the anonymous woman and the author of the diaries) emerges as a strong leader almost immediately, and since she speaks Russian, she has the advantage. Seeking out the commanding officer, Major Andreij Rybkin (Yevgeni Sidikhin), she asks him to reign in his men, protect the civilian women, and impose discipline. His reply: “all my men are healthy.”

The rapes continue, and the film creates an effective atmosphere of tension without loading the film with hard-to-watch details. The rapes are mainly depicted as men arriving drunk and chasing the women down until they manage to grab one. A few grunts later, it’s over.

As the weeks continue, Hitler’s suicide is announced, and any illusion that the Germans may have about their Fuehrer coming to their rescue is dashed. Anonyma sinks into the pace of the new life–with frequent rapes at all hours, she devises a plan for survival. Instead of being raped by multiple soldiers, she intends to accept just one and in so doing gain a protector. Just how she manages this is the substance of this riveting film.

In other less capable hands, this film could be a disaster. Too much sentimentality, and we’d have a film too unbearably painful to watch. Instead, A Woman in Berlin is delivered without a modicum of sentimentality, and given the film’s subject matter, the total absence of sentimentality is an incredible feat. Perhaps this is due to the author’s journalistic roots, but it’s the unsentimental treatment of the subject matter that makes the film so watchable and intense.

An early scene in the film establishes that Anonyma was a fascist and a follower of Hitler. She’s seen in better days via flashback in evening dress, whooping it up, toasting Hitler and the war, and she admits in the voiceover that she believed in her country’s “destiny” and that anyone who doubted was a “weakling.” Her complicity in the political madness that led to the deaths of millions taints her as a character, and while she’s not a combatant, she is guilty of endorsing and supporting Hitler’s destructive regime. In this instance, however, her fascist beliefs give her character depth and make her less sympathetic but more interesting. Perhaps this is best seen in the scenes when her fellow Germans whoop it up with the Russians, and while others become obsequious (as they stuff nazi books into incinerators), Anonyma maintains a sort of implacable grimy dignity amidst the squalor. Part of her dignity can be explained by her sheer toughness. She refuses to allow the acts of rape to conquer anything beyond her physical body.

One of the film’s subtlest and best handled themes is the treatment of civilians in wartime. While the film’s main focus is on the German civilians left in Berlin, the Soviet soldiers all have horrible, hair-raising stories to tell about the actions of the invading German army in Russia. In one understated scene Anonyoma translates to her fellow German women who find it difficult to believe that their countrymen were capable of such meaningless violence towards civilians.  Anonyma’s horror as she translates the tale  is apparent through her hesitation to even speak the words, and her supressed emotion is also just barely visible in her slight, but tightly controlled tremors. At the end of the translation, she asks the Soviet soldier if his story is hearsay or if he actually witnessed these incidents. He replied that he saw them, and the camera catches Anonyma’s expression as she silently acknowledges that the soldier’s stories are true.

Given the experiences of these Soviet soldiers, the message seems to be that what happens to the Berliners is mild in comparison. In spite of the fact that the Soviet soldiers are seen on frequent rampages for German women to rape, they are not depicted as monsters–with a couple of exceptions, their behaviour is seen partly as a release from tension and also partly as a result of drinking. One young soldier, for example, refuses to leave the apartment of a German family, even though the woman repeatedly tells him that she has a husband and that he must leave. The soldier’s sustained presence hints at a desire to stay with a family more than anything else. But even though relationships are established between the Berliners and the Soviets, the film never mistakes these relationships as anything other than unhealthy. While the Berliners may host raucous parties for the Soviets, the tension is always apparent just underneath the surface, and we can’t fool ourselves for a moment that the Germans can reign in the Soviets or refuse them anything.

The film falls apart towards the end, but Hoss’s strong portrayal manages to bind the film around her. The Soviets may leave but she will remain and survive, and this is evidenced by her solitary forays into the rubble of Berlin while soldiers stare or leer at her as she continues on her path…alone.

It’s a bit of a coincidence that I watched A Woman in Berlin so soon after watching I Was Nineteen–a film based on the experiences of the director–who as a 19-year-old of German extract was part of the Red Army invading force to enter Berlin. In one scene in I Was Nineteen, the main character Gregor meets a young German girl in Berlin who begs for his protection. He declines and leaves the girl to her fate, and although the film doesn’t explore what happens to the girl, I was reminded of her terror as I watched A Woman in Berlin.

For anyone interested in watching more of Nina Hoss, I recommend Jerichow and A Girl Called Rosemarie. On a final note, A Woman in Berlin concludes with Esenin’s Suicide Poem set to music:

“Goodbye my friend, goodbye.

My dear one, you are in my heart.  

Our predestined parting promises a future meeting.  

Goodbye, my friend, without hand or word, No grief and no sad face,–

In  this life there’s nothing new in dying,

But in living, of course, is nothing new either.”  

Jerichow (2008)

“You can’t love if you don’t have money.”

There are some situations you would never chose to become involved with, but desperation leads you there.

The German film Jerichow begins with Thomas (Benno Furmann) attending his mother’s funeral. He has a past, an unknown history, but now he is back at the humble little house owned by his recently deceased mother. He’s just left her funeral when he’s visited by two men from his past. Exactly what happened and what Thomas’s relationship is to these men isn’t clear, but it is obvious that there’s some sort of criminal activity involved, and that Thomas has stolen some money.

The visit leaves Thomas without the little purloined nest egg he’d intended to use to repair his mother’s dilapidated house. With no job, and no money, this dishonorably discharged soldier turns to the state for help getting a job. The next thing you know, Thomas is part of a cucumber harvesting crew, performing extremely difficult work–no doubt for a pittance.

Thomas’s luck seems to be improving when he meets Ali (Hilmi Sozer), the chubby, middle aged Turk who owns a chain of snack bars sprinkled throughout the region. But that’s not the only thing Ali owns–he also has a gorgeous country home, and a blonde German wife, Laura (Nina Hoss). After Thomas does Ali a favour, Ali offers Thomas a job as his driver, and Thomas accepts.

With the three main characters in place, the film then creates an effective love triangle. Laura is obviously sick and tired of her husband, and Ali is busy spying on Laura and testing her loyalties. Surely no one in their right minds would see Laura as anything other than ‘off limits,’ but Thomas doesn’t seem to care, and soon, Laura and Thomas are groping each other every chance they get.

It’s impossible to watch Jerichow (Jerichow is the name of Thomas’s home town, by the way) without being aware that the plot is a reworking of James Cain’s The Postman Always Rings Twice, made into a film first in 1946 and remade in 1981.

One of the biggest differences between the 1946 American film version and this German retelling of the tale is that the character of Ali is far more interesting–even if he is more unpleasant. As Thomas drives Ali from snack bar to snack bar, Ali anticipates the actions of some of his managers. He expects to be cheated, and he’s not disappointed when people do exactly what he expects. Similarly, he expects Laura to sneak around and cheat on him too, and of course this makes the way he dangles Laura in front of Thomas rather intriguing.

Thomas and Laura don’t struggle with the morality of the situation. To them, it’s a black and white situation which is determined by cold cash. Jerichow also tackles the immigrant perspective, and here even though Ali is a wealthy man, he can’t wait to retire back in Turkey–a place he still considers home even though he only returns periodically. There’s a sense that this is the new Germany–with hunky Thomas disenfranchised after a bout with the army and Laura, bought and paid for by the only man interested enough to afford her price tag.

All three of the main characters are well cast: Benno Furman with his economy of movement and speech, Nina Hoss as the burned out wife who chokes on her subservient role, and Ali, a man who’s far deeper than he appears to be. From director Christian Petzold.

I Was Nineteen (1968)

“Perhaps you underestimate the Nazi movement’s irresistibility. It was a continuation of German history. You quoted Kant, but you misunderstood him. The categorical imperative to obey any order an authority gives us was a trait of this people before Hitler. The need to fulfill our duties. This was just an escalation. An artificially induced frenzy of obedience. The result of long-suffered degradation. An explosion of sadism. A phenomenon. We have been destroyed like no other race.”

I came across the title I Was Nineteen (Ich War Neunzehn) on a list of the ‘100 best German films ever.’ Some of the films are sadly no longer available, but I noticed that both A Girl Called Rosemarie and The Kaiser’s Lackey made the list, and since those were both great films, it seemed possible that  I Was Nineteen would be something special too.

It was….

I Was Nineteen is based on the memoirs of East German film director Konrad Wolf. Wolf was a lieutenant in the Red Army during WWII, and for a short period, he was the commander of Bernau in the spring of 1945.

The protagonist of I was Nineteen is 19-year-old Gregor Hecker (Jaecki Schwarz) who arrives on the outskirts of Berlin as a member of the Red Army advance scouting team. Part of Gregor’s job is to man the megaphone and tell the German soldiers that the war is over, they’ve lost, and they should surrender. Gregor is a uniquely valuable member of the team as he’s a product of a German parents who moved to the U.S.S.R and he can speak fluent German.

Based on Wolf’s diaries, the film is largely episodic and lacks a smooth narrative. Gregor is seen as a reflective mirror of the drama, and some of his recorded experiences remain more powerful than others. Some of the Germans, once they realise that Gregor is a ‘fellow’ German, imagine that this means he will be kinder and that they will receive different treatment at his hands. But Gregor doesn’t identify with Germany, its people or its lost cause in the least. He’s appalled by the actions of the Third Reich, and in one of the segments, he’s in the home of a German who intellectualizes the mass slaughter. Gregor isn’t even interested, and if anything, his slightly impatient expression seems to question why they even allow the man to spout his theories. Another of the very first segments depicts a young German girl in Bernau, obviously traumatized by recent incidents. The town is practically deserted, and the girl has drifted to Bernau from elsewhere. Terrified by the presence of the Red Army, she begs Gregor for protection in the hostile presence of a female Red Army soldier. There’s no sentimentality–even though for one moment, the film seems about to lean in that direction.

In another episode, Gregor arrives at a deserted concentration camp. He and his fellow Red Army soldiers anticipate liberating prisoners, but they have arrived too late. Archival footage of the gas chambers and the procedures used are grafted onto the film for a grim authenticity.

At another point in the film, Gregor is a translator for the Red Army officer who tries to persuade the German officers at Spandau to surrender. This is perhaps the most tense and arguably the most interesting segment of the film. The collapse of the Third Reich is evident at this point–it’s just that some people are admitting it and others are still delusional while the division between the Wehrmacht and the Nazi officers widens.

One of the most interesting aspects of the film’s unusual persepective is Gregor’s reaction to the German officers. While some of the Germans seem perplexed by Gregor’s role, Gregor views the officers as “blue-blooded bastards” who led the country into the path of madness. In spite of the fact that the war is ‘over,’ the film shows that this was an extraordinarily sensitive and dangerous time with some Germans refusing to accept defeat and surrender, while the ‘common’ foot soldier just wanted to go home. The film’s scenes show the destruction of the German army from within as some Germans refuse to surrender and try to kill those who hand over their weapons. 

I Was Nineteen is absolutely fascinating–in spite of its lack of momentum and with tension ebbing and flowing.  A May Day celebration, for example, interrupts the dangerous penetration of Germany, and makes the audience relax–much too early as it turns out. The fate of the German soldiers rounded up by Gregor and his fellow Red Army soldiers is not apparent, but their destination is the U.S.S.R, and many would never return….

Merton of the Movies (1947)

“I feel I belong in a costume.”

Merton of the Movies is a light-hearted look at Old Hollywood and the silent film era, and what’s so interesting about the film is that it seems to debunk the Hollywood Myth of the newcomer becoming a success, and then proceeds to reverse itself to reinforce the rags-to-riches Hollywood dream.

Cinema usher, Merton Gill (Red Skelton) loves film and longs for the day he can go to Hollywood. To prepare himself for his big break, he’s taken a correspondence course in acting, uses the stage name Clifford Armytage,  and even has the certificate to prove that he looks like an actor. But in spite of Merton’s enthusiastic desire to go to Hollywood, it looks as though he’s stuck in Tinkerton, Kansas until one day fate intervenes….

One night while working as an usher, Merton inadvertently appears to foil a robbery, and he subsequently makes the headlines. In Hollywood, dashing but fading actor, Lawrence Rupert (Leon Ames), needs all the publicity he can get, and Lawrence’s agent arranges to bring Merton from Kansas to Hollywood. To Merton, this represents a lifelong dream, and he’s excited to meet one of his screen idols. But when Merton gets to Hollywood, Lawrence Rupert uses him for a few publicity shots and then ignores him. Merton, however, is determined to become a star and begins haunting the studio lots for work as an extra. Eventually he meets the kindly Phyllis Montague (Virginia O’Brien) who works as a stunt woman for glamorous star Beulah Baxter (Gloria Grahame).  

I’m not a Red Skelton fan, but I did enjoy Merton of the Movies. Skelton plays the good-hearted, innocent country boy who lands in Hollywood and has the sort of misadventures you’d expect given the plot. It’s a role Bob Hope could play–the guileless, idiot bumpkin whose innocence acts as a sort of protective armour against the harsh realities of life. While other people would end up bitter at the bad treatment meted out by Lawrence Rupert, Merton simply doesn’t get that he’s been used and then snubbed. And this basic innocence makes for a great deal of the film’s humour. Some of the film’s funniest scenes show Merton working at the Good Fellows Club in Hollywood in the “Over 70s Room,” a place where the club members are so sensitive that, of course, it’s only a matter of time before Merton creates a disaster. The club members are mostly stone deaf, and yet at the same time, they’re annoyed by the noise made by Merton’s corduroy trousers.

Gloria Grahame, the reason I sought out the film, only appears in a few but delightful scenes as silent screen star Beulah Baxter. Beulah is a good-natured air-head, but in spite of her dimness, she’s a man-eater, and the scenes at her home when Merton tries ‘fruit juice’ are hilarious. Directed by Robert Alton, Merton of the Movies is innocent, good-hearted fun.

A Cruel Romance (1984)

A Cruel Romance (Ruthless Romance, Zhestokiy Romans) is a gem of Soviet cinema. Based on the play The Dowerless Girl by Aleksandr Ostrovsky and directed by Eldar Ryazanov, this is the story of Larissa Dmitrievna (Larisa Guzeyeva), a young girl from an impoverished family of the gentry in late 19th century Russia.

The film begins with the wedding of Larissa’s sister, Olga, who’s being married off to a Caucasian prince. The wedding is over, and Olga, obviously a desperately unhappy bride, is about to sail off to the Caucasus with her new, wildly jealous husband whose tribal culture is vastly different from her own.  Olga’s future happiness may be doubtful, and while wedding guests murmur their amusement with the situation, the marriage is seen as a stroke of luck for Olga’s mother, Kharita Ogoudalova (Alisa Frejndlikh).

The Ogoudalova family was once considered the finest family in the region, but when the film begins those days are long gone. Matriarch Kharita lives on the family estate which is mortgaged up to the hilt. There’s no mention of Kharita’s husband, but she has three daughters. Anna is married to a gambler and living in Monte Carlo in somewhat desperate straits, and now with Olga married off, that leaves Larissa in the nest. Marrying off the last daughter is an imperative.

Kharita lives beyond her means in order to continue the facade that she’s wealthy, but her problems go far deeper than this. Kharita’s poor judgment is reflected in her dress–she dresses like a much younger woman, but even worse, she places herself and her daughter Larissa in a most morally precarious position by allowing married banker, the portly Moky Knurov (Alexei Petrenko) to give her money–sometimes with questionable objectives.

Larissa seems to have no shortage of suitors. Or at least it would appear so from the large number of men who flock to the social events at the family home.  One of Larissa’s most patient suitors is the dull post office worker Yuli Karandyshev (Andrei Myagkov) who’s very easily made to look like a complete idiot by the suave playboy Sergey Sergeyevich Paratov (Nikita Mikhalkov).

Just as Larissa seems to on the path to engagement, fate intervenes. Will she be saved or destroyed as several males in Larissa’s circle take her fate into their own hands….

While A Cruel Romance is the tale of exactly what happens to Larissa at the hands of the men in her social circle, the film also makes a larger statement about Russian society and the erosion of the gentry by the merchant class. The Ogoudalovas are the ‘finest’ family around, but the mother resorts to fobbing off her daughters on the highest bidder, and since the girls have no dowry, they are sold off quite cheaply. Kharita must be held at least partly responsible for what happens to Larissa. Kharita’s carelessness cannot be blamed on either naivete or a desire to see her daughter happy. And then what of Kharita’s relationship with the married banker Moky Knurov? Does Kharita find it convenient to turn a blind eye to his intentions?

Ivan Petrovich is also a member of the gentry, and while he appears as a glamorous, dashing lover–a perfect foil to the stodgy Yuli Karandyshev, in reality, Ivan has plunged his family estate into debt. He owns The Swallow, a huge steamship and plans to become a successful businessman. Wherever Ivan goes, he moves in a self-created cocoon of splendour, action and adoration, but Ivan’s world is as false and empty as he is. Meanwhile while Larissa is courted and romanced, both Ivan’s and the Ogoudalova’s  family fortunes are carefully monitored in a predatory fashion by the banker Moky Knurov and Ivan’s rival Vassily Vozhevatov (Victor Proskurin).

A Cruel Romance is a marvelous costume drama, beautifully acted, with a marvellous musical score, and full of gorgeous shots of the Volga. While there’s plenty of romance, it’s delivered with a bitter touch that’s certain to please Russophiles.

Moscow Does Not Believe In Tears (1979)

“Moscow is one big lottery. There you can hit the jackpot.”

Set in Moscow in the late 50s through the late 70s, Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears (Moskva Slezam ne Verit) follows the lives of three Soviet women, Katerina “Katya” (Vera Alentova),  Lyudmilla  “Luida” (Irina Muravyova), and Antonina  “Tonya” (Raisa Ryazanova). Originally from the provinces, the three girls now live in a Worker’s Dormitory and work in Moscow factories. The forceful, determined Luida says that Moscow is like a lottery and by that she means she intends to marry ‘up.’ Meanwhile, the quiet, simple Tonya steadily dates her regular boyfriend,Nikolai (Boris Smorchov) and Katya, the serious one of the trio, hopes to improve herself by getting into university.

Fate intervenes when Katya’s aunt and uncle go on holiday and leave their large, sumptuous flat and their Pekingese in her care. Luida sees this as a wonderful opportunity to entertain eligible men, and entertain she does, dragging Katya into her scheme. The two girls host parties for various men invited by Luida, and the crafty Luida passes herself (and Katya) off as professor’s daughters.

 Luida’s scheme works and she manages to snare professional hockey player Gurin (Alexsandr Fatyushin) while Katya is drawn to television cameraman Rachkov (Yuri Vasilyev)….

The film then flashes forward to 1978 and picks up the trails of the three main female characters’ lives.

Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears is essentially a drama laced with comedy–albeit most of the amusement comes from the marvellous character of the indestructible Luida. While Tonya seeks the traditional role of wife and mother, Katya manages to fulfill her ambition to become an educated career woman, and the way the film bridges the time gap between Katya’s struggles and then her success–through the use of a deceptively simple scene involving an alarm clock–is pure brilliance.

Luida’s ambition was to move up in society through marriage, and she employed all means possible to achieve her goal. Essentially her plan goes awry and this is perhaps both a moral and a social statement.When the film picks up the story in 1978, we can see just how far the three women–now entering middle age–have gone with their lives. Some plans have worked and others are a miserable failure. But Luida–in spite of the dashing of her great hopes still indefatigably pursues her goal of catching a man.

The film explores the idea of the strong Russian woman, and the film’s title refers to the fact that the women will continue to plough on–in this case with or without men. Several of the scenes underscore the lack of eligible men available. At first, this is largely seen through Luida’s attempts to hook a man using artifice and clothes as social disguises (at one point, she begins dressing up as a student in order to haunt the university libraries for prey). But the idea that there’s a distinct lack of eligible men is still prevalent in 1978, when Katya visits a centre that is essentially a club for singles, so inundated with females that no more women are allowed to join.

The film has some nice little twists and turns. Katya’s first big mistake was to pretend to be something she wasn’t, and although she was pushed into this by the domineering Luida, Katya pays a great price for this error. Ironically just as she once deceived a man about the truth of her humble circumstances, when she meets Gosha (Aleksei Batalov) and falls in love, she hides the fact that she’s a successful engineer who runs a factory, and pretends she is a simple worker.

While the film includes many themes that are easily accessible–loneliness, career and personal sacrifice, relationships and ambition, there’s another fascinating facet to this film. American film often depicts its characters in conflict with the society in which they live. In Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears, the characters are seem struggling but working harmoniously within society and not railing against it.

Moscow Does Not Believe In Tears won the Oscar for the Best Foreign Language Film in 1981, and it’s easy to see why. With its universal, upbeat and optimistic themes, and its portrayal of everyday life in a frank, yet sympathetic manner, it’s readily accessible to a foreign audience. From director Vladimir Menshov

Intimate Enemies (2007)

“I hear you’ve been having qualms.”

The gritty, intense French film, Intimate Enemies (L’Ennemi Intime) from director Florent Emilio Siri examines the French-Algerian war through a single platoon. It’s 1959, and the FLN (National Liberation Front) is committed to a free Algeria without the French, and the French are committed to keeping Algeria as part of France. During the French-Algerian war, France conscripted 500,000 men to fight, and approximately 27,000 never came home (according to the film). On the Algerian side, figures range from 350,000 to 1.5 million.

The film begins when a cock-up involving friendly fire wipes out the platoon’s lieutenant, and then a replacement in the form of blonde, blue-eyed Lieutenant Terrien (Benoit Magimel) arrives. Terrien is married with a six-year-old son and in his civilian life he is an industrial designer. The film wisely doesn’t allow Terrien to be a complete idealist, but his lack of savagery still puts him at odds with both his men and his superiors.

Terrien’s right hand man is the seasoned battle veteran Sgt. Dougnac (Albert Dupontel)–a man who’s fought in Indochine, but some of the other officers are also WWII veterans, or resistance fighters, so they bring their own history of various conflicts to the sparse, harsh Algerian territory.

There are no major battles fought, just mission after mission into the “forbidden zone” to capture the elusive Slimane in this tense, action-packed film. The film doesn’t get preachy (and it really could given the material), instead the plot focuses on the sheer and utter mess of the French-Algerian war. For example, the platoon has its own Algerian fighters and its own scouts. Some of the Algerians who fight with the French have seen their entire families slaughtered by the FNL fellagha (outlaws), while another fought with the French in Italy during WWII. The film doesn’t show the FLN hardliners–instead we see the terrified villagers stuck in the middle of the ‘battlefield’ and who have to pay ‘revolutionary tax’ to the fellagha or risk violent death.  There are several scenes with Algerians on both sides of the political divide facing each other and debating their choices, and for most of them, it seems to be a matter of chance which side they work for.

Several scenes cover the various arguments of those concerned in this convoluted mess, and since this is a colonial war, the arguments cover such issues as France granting independence to Morroco and Tunisia but not to Algeria. In another scene, one character compares the French occupation of Algeria with the German occupation of France. This has a particularly ironic twist as one character fought the Gestapo as a resistance fighter, and now he’s here in a foreign country supressing the locals. As the film continues the behaviour of the French devolves with foray after fruitless foray into the forbidden zone. It’s impossible not to draw comparisons with Vietnam and Afghanistan. Perhaps it’s the terrain or the napalm. But then again perhaps it’s the slaughter of villagers caught in the middle or even the torture conducted by both sides to wring information from prisoners. Watching Intimate Enemies shows again how situations such as My Lai can occur.

Lt. Terrain has some harsh lessons to learn on his path to brutality, but learn them he does, and along the way he crosses the ‘immoral order’ divide. Deliberately hung out to learn about the brutality of the enemy, Terrain descends to a level of “barbarism” he could not have imagined. After all, “at 100 volts, the truth always comes out.”

The only thing we all have to cling to is our belief system–whatever that may be, but whatever morality Terrain tries to hang on to is ripped away or eroded in the impossible moral quagmire he faces. Terrain is confused by conflicting moral choices. What is his first priority? What is his mission? And does he have to abandon morality in order to fight the FLN? The film’s final message is that the entire war was a horrible mistake with thousands of wasted lives on both sides.

The film is based on the non-fiction book by Patrick Rotman.

Wallandar (2008)

Things are tough in Sweden….

The DVD Wallander features Kenneth Branagh as the middle-aged beleaguered detective Kurt Wallander. This release is a 2-DVD set–with two films on the first disc and a third film–One Step Behind on the second disc. The first DVD features episodes Sidetracked and Firewall and these tales are based on the novels by Swedish author Henning Mankell. This DVD had been in my netflix queue along with the long wait notice since its release in June 2009, and when it finally arrived, I was very interested to see it. So Netflix finally sent disc one, and I watched it. I should mention that I’d read my first Henning Mankell crime novel earlier this year–didn’t love it, but then the first novel in the series is often the weakest, but since Branagh is such a good actor, I really wanted to see this DVD.

Any detective series (novel or film) has the delicate task of producing interesting crime stories that feature a regular character we care about. So there’s a balancing act between the crime at hand and the details of the detective’s life and character. I should add here that it’s not necessary to like the character in order to find him or her interesting. In fact, the more flaws the better (take Detective Inspector Rebus from the novels of Ian Rankin, for example). These series characters become acquaintances in a way–we want to see what they are up to in the next episode, and the theory is, of course, that if we are so interested in the character, we will come back to read the next book, or in this case, watch the next DVD.

So will I return to Wallander?

Doubtful….

The first episode, Sidetracked, begins with a startling, attention-grabbing act of self-destruction which leaves detective Kurt Wallander (Kenneth Branagh) feeling both responsible and helpless at the same time. But the attention grabbing beginning dwindles down into a sordid tale of corrupt kinky powerful men and a slew of horrific, ritualized murders. Yawn. It’s been done 100s of times before.

In the second episode, Firewall, Wallander investigates the seemingly senseless brutal stabbing of a taxi driver by a disaffected teen, and soon bodies  are popping up everywhere and he’s involved in a fanciful tale of cybernet terrorism.

The second episode showed a lot more energy as the story tweaks details of Wallandar’s pathetic personal life. The poor sod is separated from a wife he thinks he still loves, his bitchy, bratty daughter demands attention, and his father–already irritable and difficult to please–is sliding into Alzheimers.

At first, Wallander comes off as depressed, depressive and exhausted. He doesn’t even have the energy to shave apparently, and after seeing him wake up in chair, I was beginning to wonder about showers. The one relationship in his life is with his daughter, and it consists of her hounding him about various issues and in Firewall she pesters him to start dating. Wallander’s personal life doesn’t sucks as much as it’s non-existent. Branagh as Wallander seems to find even the smallest tasks associated with living to be too much to bear. And all things considered, I found him a bit depressing to be around….

The film may please fans of Branagh and the cinematography is gorgeous, but for me, and I may be in the minority here, I’m not exactly eager to see what happens to Wallandar in succeeding episodes.

Water Lilies (2007)

Water Lilies (Naissance des Pieuvres) is a French coming-of-age film that dabbles in the dark waters of budding female sexuality. The film takes a long time to warm up but the wait is well worth it. Plus there’s always the film’s gorgeous cinematography.

Set in the suburbs of Paris during long hot summer days, the film begins with various teams of girls preparing and then participating in synchronized swimming in a large public pool. Marie (Pauline Acquart) is there to watch her best friend Anne (Louise Blanchere) perform, but in reality, Marie moves her seat to get a better look at the striking Floriane (Adele Haenel).

Marie, who’s shrimp of a girl, idolizes Floriane, and it’s easy to see why. In the water, Floriane performs with grace and dexterity–out of the water, she’s not so pleasant. Blonde, tall and shapely, Floriane is loathed by her team members and has the reputation of being the team “slut.” Wherever she goes, males vie for Floriane’s attention, and most of her focus is on Francois (Warren Jacquin), a good-looking popular male swimmer. 

Marie begins to neglect her friendship with plump, unpopular Anne, and she tries to join a swimming team. But does she really want to swim or does she need an excuse to hang around Floriane? While Marie is discontent with her body, and even tries on a swimming suit on top of her clothing, Floriane is a study in self-confidence. Marie’s discontent about her body seems to translate to a desire to be like Floriane, and yet there are also strong strains of sexual feelings mingled in with the hero worship. Floriane’s character appears as clearly defined and developed as her body, and Marie’s less defined character appears to waver and then become absorbed in Floriane’s shadow.

Although Floriane rejects Marie’s tentative worship at first, gradually she begins to allow Marie into her life, and Marie, assuming the subordinate position in the relationship, seems content to do favours and provide alibis for Floriane. While Floriane initially seems the stuck-up type: popular, attractive, and confident, her cruel streak appears to be put aside for her friendship with Marie, and yet an edge of cruelty remains. Which is the real Floriane?

Meanwhile, Anne, left to her own devices, begins to have romantic feelings for Francois and makes bold overtures towards him in front of his team mates.  Marie’s close friendship with Anne seems ruined, and at the same time, Marie’s new friendship with Floriane doesn’t bode well. Adults stay largely in the film’s background, and the parents are noticeably absent while the teens are left to their own devices.  

In some ways, Water Lilies tackles the familiar issues that often crop up in films that focus on teens: sexual inexperience, sexual confusion, conformity, etc. But Water Lilies is a beautiful film that handles these issues with great subtlety and it’s impossible to guess where the film is taking the viewer until the final credits roll.

To say more about the plot would ruin the viewing experience for those out there who haven’t watched the film yet. If you are a fan of French film, and enjoy slow-moving, thoughtful and provocative drama, then chances are that you will enjoy Water Lilies from first time director Celine Sciamma.

Bombshell (1933)

I’ve never seen a Jean Harlow film I didn’t enjoy, but I think Bombshell may very well be my favourite, and that surprises me a bit as I really enjoy the pairing of Harlow-Gable in some of her other major films. Perhaps the film’s success lies partly in the fact that it’s pre-code, and the perfectly timed performances mesh with a sparkling script that matches Harlow’s talents. Bombshell is a thinly disguised homage to Harlow and the cult of celebrity, yet at the same time, Harlow so seems to enjoy taking a sly dig at her own real-life career.

Bombshell begins with images of actress Lola Burns (Jean Harlow) and then clips of Harlow’s real-life films mingle with shots of adoring, fixated fans as they stare at the big screen. Quickly establishing the way in which Burns is seen on the big screen and how she is idolised by her fans, the film then cleverly leads into the way Lola Burns really lives.

The film opens with a very typical day-in-the-life of Lola Burns. It’s morning and she wakes up in her splendid mansion in a bedroom complete with frills, silk and feathers for that despotic harem-brothel look . Even though she’s a wealthy woman and surrounded by servants, Lola’s life is a mess. Both Lola’s drunken brother and her obnoxious gambler father sponge off her while trying to manage her career, and this translates to ensuring she stays in harness, earning the money they spend. To make matters worse, she’s surrounded by out-of-control servants who take advantage of her good natured generosity. Lola’s chaotic life even follows her to the studio, and the fact that everywhere she travels she’s accompanied by her three Old English Sheepdogs doesn’t exactly help matters. If she’s not tripping over dogs, she’s juggling interviews, fans and gossip-hungry reporters. And on top of all this, the studio’s publicist, E.J. “Space” Hanlon (Lee Tracy) exploits every angle of Lola’s personal life in order to keep her on the front page. There is literally nothing that Space wouldn’t sink to in order to get a headline. 

Merging real-life with fiction, Lola is filming Red Dust with Gable while she has a romance with slimy Hugo, the Marquis Di Pisa Di Pisa (Ivan Lebedeff). The Marquis, a notorious gigolo (also called a ”fungi,” a “rummage sale Romeo,” and a “glorified barber“) sponges off of vulnerable female Hollywood stars who are impressed with his foreign accent and his title. Of course, to the Marquis, Lola is a perfect target.

The plot follows Lola’s romance with the Marquis, her various whims (such as adopting a baby) and her romance with snotty poet Gifford Middleton (Franchot Tone). Meanwhile Space subverts snd sabotages Lola’s decisions about her life turning everything into a smutty headline for the studio. While the film keeps an even beat and a steady stream of comedy, some of the film’s funniest scenes occur when Lola meets blue-blood Gifford and his family. Tone’s romantic lines are priceless: “Your hair is like a field of silver daisies. I’d like to run barefoot through your hair!” Tone, of course, gained a great deal of notoriety a few years later in 1951 when he was in a fight with actor Tom Neal over the beautiful, self-destructive actress Barbara Payton.

The very lovely, luminous Jean Harlow is marvelous as the blonde Bombshell. She was just 22 when the film was released and tragically died just four years later in 1937. She’s so young in Bombshell and yet she delivers the performance of a confident, seasoned performer, never missing a beat, full of life, and simply perfect for this role.

This precode film includes a few hints at sex. For example, early in the film, Lola wonders what happened to the negligee she just gave to her maid, and the following exchange takes place:

Lola: I didn’t give you that for a negligee. That’s an evening wrap.

Loretta: I know Miss Burns, but the negligee you gave me got all tore up the night before last.

Lola: Your day off is sure brutal on your lingerie.

And in another scene, Lola is planning to adopt a baby but Space jumps to the wrong conclusion and thinks that Lola is about to be an unwed mother. Then horror of horrors, the dialogue leads Space to think that Lola doesn’t know who the father of her baby is. It’s a funny scene and of course the audience is on the joke, but when the Hays Code came into power, this exchange simply wouldn’t have happened.

Anyway, if you want to watch a Harlow film and don’t know where to start, Bombshell is a marvellous film and showcases Harlow at her glittering best. Directed by Victor Fleming.