(Dave Boyle, 2015)
In what feels like direct opposition to much modern neo-noir, Boyle's film does noir in an old-fashioned, serious manner: slowly, patiently, methodically. That's not to suggest it isn't stylish. It is visually lovely, filled with strong compositions and a palette of muted colours. Boyle's storytelling adds to the strong sense of atmosphere created - this is a quiet, thoughtful piece of cinema.
It centres on best-selling Japanese mystery writer Aki (Ayako Fujitani) who returns to her college hometown of San Francisco, depressed and somewhat suicidal. There she meets a mysterious man, they connect, and then he abruptly disappears. Her halting investigation into his sudden absence eventually intersects with that of a small-town sheriff (Pepe Serna), searching for a man he hit with his car one misty night who later absconded from hospital. This leads them into a murky world of smuggling, money, and identity theft, and it quickly becomes obvious that neither of them really knows what they are doing.
It is refreshing to find a genuine mystery in a noir - one with plenty of dead ends and false starts - but then so much about Man From Reno is surprisingly refreshing. The story starts off as a drama, building the character of Aki, giving us a few glimpses into her past, and making her sympathetic. Likewise the sheriff - a nice man who seems to be good at his job, and who loves his daughter. The mystery only comes into focus about 30 minutes in, and it is almost another hour before the two leads meet. Fujitani and Serna are inspired casting choices; she is all sad eyes and watchful regret, he all laid-back, aged wisdom and nagging worries. The few moments of suspense are nicely-handled, increasing Aki's sense of paranoia.
The whole thing has a quality lacking in modern neo-noir: soulfulness. There are few references to pop culture, barely any violence. Instead there is some emotion in these characters. Aki misses the love of her life, long dead, whose writing gave her the career she has today. The sheriff seems resigned to his daughter leaving him for a place at the FBI. Violence seems to exist in a different cinematic universe from these people.
This means that when it comes, it has devastating, jarring impact. The ending is fantastic.
Showing posts with label Mystery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mystery. Show all posts
Saturday, 2 January 2016
Friday, 7 August 2015
MARSHLAND
aka LA ISLA MINIMA
(Alberto Rodriguez, 2014)
Set in the political twilight between the death of Franco and the coming of democracy in early '80s Spain, Marshland is an extremely intense, emotionally charged thriller. When two girls disappear in rural Andalucia, a pair of detectives are dispatched to find them. When they do find them, the girls have been raped, tortured and killed. During their investigation, the detectives find themselves stonewalled by small-town Spain, where distrust and secretiveness are seemingly everywhere. Their own differences reflect the divides in Spanish society during that era; the younger Pedro (Raúl Arévalo) believes in democracy, talks angrily of Fascists, and was angling for a career in Madrid before a letter to a newspaper landed him in trouble with the government. The older Raul (Javier Gutiérrez) has a shadowed past working for the regime, medical problems (he urinates blood and pops pills) and a cynical attitude to the job of getting results. Together they stumble through an investigation that gets knottier and more complex by the day. Again, Rodriguez suggests that this reflects Spain itself; people protecting the powerful, a general sense of fear and suspicion, secrets and lies beneath the sun.
It is beautifully made. Rodriguez favours a series of lovely birds eye view shots of his marshes and the mighty river around which his action takes place, and they eerily contextualise the action. These human stories, however important they seem, are pitiful and minute compared to the nature surrounding them. Those shots do much of the work creating atmosphere; this little claustrophobic town is powerfully evoked, all smoky bars and sweaty car lots, as is life on the river and marshes, the abandoned hunting lodges and houses set around the bleak countryside which the detectives find themselves searching. The two leads are well-cast; they have great faces - Arévalo handsome in a cruel way, Gutiérrez kind and friendly-looking, which helps complicate their characters and relationship.
The whole thing is terrifically textured and visceral so that when the action starts in the last act, it has real impact - a couple of brilliantly intimate car chases and a shootout are utterly engrossing, and the film has a satisfyingly cynical ending. It is a superior piece of genre entertainment aimed squarely at grown-ups.
(Alberto Rodriguez, 2014)
Set in the political twilight between the death of Franco and the coming of democracy in early '80s Spain, Marshland is an extremely intense, emotionally charged thriller. When two girls disappear in rural Andalucia, a pair of detectives are dispatched to find them. When they do find them, the girls have been raped, tortured and killed. During their investigation, the detectives find themselves stonewalled by small-town Spain, where distrust and secretiveness are seemingly everywhere. Their own differences reflect the divides in Spanish society during that era; the younger Pedro (Raúl Arévalo) believes in democracy, talks angrily of Fascists, and was angling for a career in Madrid before a letter to a newspaper landed him in trouble with the government. The older Raul (Javier Gutiérrez) has a shadowed past working for the regime, medical problems (he urinates blood and pops pills) and a cynical attitude to the job of getting results. Together they stumble through an investigation that gets knottier and more complex by the day. Again, Rodriguez suggests that this reflects Spain itself; people protecting the powerful, a general sense of fear and suspicion, secrets and lies beneath the sun.
It is beautifully made. Rodriguez favours a series of lovely birds eye view shots of his marshes and the mighty river around which his action takes place, and they eerily contextualise the action. These human stories, however important they seem, are pitiful and minute compared to the nature surrounding them. Those shots do much of the work creating atmosphere; this little claustrophobic town is powerfully evoked, all smoky bars and sweaty car lots, as is life on the river and marshes, the abandoned hunting lodges and houses set around the bleak countryside which the detectives find themselves searching. The two leads are well-cast; they have great faces - Arévalo handsome in a cruel way, Gutiérrez kind and friendly-looking, which helps complicate their characters and relationship.
The whole thing is terrifically textured and visceral so that when the action starts in the last act, it has real impact - a couple of brilliantly intimate car chases and a shootout are utterly engrossing, and the film has a satisfyingly cynical ending. It is a superior piece of genre entertainment aimed squarely at grown-ups.
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
COLD WEATHER
(Aaron Katz, 2010)
It starts off as "mumblecore".
That's a meaningless label, really, a movement that never was. Lets say that it starts off as a slightly arty, beautifully observed, naturalistic Generation Y comedy-drama. Some of the dialogue is improvised, but that just serves to make a couple of exchanges more obscure, offhand and banal than they would be in a more conventionally-conceived film, and that makes it feel more like real life. Nothing major happens. Scenes amiably stroll past without significantly advancing any sort of plot, and that is a pleasure in such a well-directed, nicely acted film. We are introduced to characters and observe the subtle dynamics between them, even if we're not always aware of the significance of these moments.
Then, in two scenes it all changes. Suddenly the film we're watching is a mystery. Never quite a thriller, though it does accrue an unexpectedly gripping quality by the last fifteen minutes or so. But very definitely a mystery, with our protagonist now the hero and the earlier references to Sherlock Holmes suddenly making perfect sense.
This fusion of genre with drama isn't attempted all that often; it seems that filmmakers fear confusing audience expectations or, worse, making something a distributor won't know how to sell, and so most films fit nicely and predictably inside one narrow genre or another. Not Katz's fascinating, lovely third feature, which is a pleasure from start to finish and confirms him as one of the more interesting and accomplished young Directors in American Cinema. Full of beautiful imagery - stark, chilly cityscapes were a feature of his last film, Quiet City, and they are equally well-used here - quietly funny and always believable, Cold Weather is the kind of film that gets missed by far too many people.
It starts off as "mumblecore".
That's a meaningless label, really, a movement that never was. Lets say that it starts off as a slightly arty, beautifully observed, naturalistic Generation Y comedy-drama. Some of the dialogue is improvised, but that just serves to make a couple of exchanges more obscure, offhand and banal than they would be in a more conventionally-conceived film, and that makes it feel more like real life. Nothing major happens. Scenes amiably stroll past without significantly advancing any sort of plot, and that is a pleasure in such a well-directed, nicely acted film. We are introduced to characters and observe the subtle dynamics between them, even if we're not always aware of the significance of these moments.
Then, in two scenes it all changes. Suddenly the film we're watching is a mystery. Never quite a thriller, though it does accrue an unexpectedly gripping quality by the last fifteen minutes or so. But very definitely a mystery, with our protagonist now the hero and the earlier references to Sherlock Holmes suddenly making perfect sense.
This fusion of genre with drama isn't attempted all that often; it seems that filmmakers fear confusing audience expectations or, worse, making something a distributor won't know how to sell, and so most films fit nicely and predictably inside one narrow genre or another. Not Katz's fascinating, lovely third feature, which is a pleasure from start to finish and confirms him as one of the more interesting and accomplished young Directors in American Cinema. Full of beautiful imagery - stark, chilly cityscapes were a feature of his last film, Quiet City, and they are equally well-used here - quietly funny and always believable, Cold Weather is the kind of film that gets missed by far too many people.
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