APARAJITO (The Unvanquished) - Review By Greg Klymkiw - #2 of The Apu Trilogy by Satyajit Ray

When a mother and child must face the world alone.

When a mother must face the world alone.

Aparajito (The Unvanquished) (1956) Dir. Satyajit Roy *****
Starring: Smaran Ghosal, Pinaki Sen Gupta, Karuna Banerjee, Kanu Banerjee

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Some movies sneak up on you. Aparajito is such a picture. This sequel to Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali and second entry in his Apu Trilogy most definitely delivers the new beginning promised at the end of the previous film. Having left their rural village behind in favour of big city life in Benares, The Roy family are still living in poverty, but existence doesn't seem quite so tenuous. Harihar (Kanu Banerjee) continues his work as a priest and delivers prayers on the banks of the Ganges River while his wife Sarbajaya (Karuna Banerjee) tends to her homemaking chores.

Though the family is more secure than back in the sticks, it's Apu (Pinaki Sen Gupta) who seems especially satisfied with his current lot in life. With an entire city as a playground and the joy he clearly expresses whilst tearing about the teeming populace, Apu seems the happiest of the three, with one exception, one definite want and need. They family lives too far away from a school and Apu does indeed express a desire for an education.

If anything, literacy and education in Apu's life are the real driving forces behind the film's narrative. Interestingly, Ray was always disappointed that there was one key role he had to write out of the film at the last minute due to casting issues, but if truth be told, it's a role that's completely unnecessary and in fact strengthens the education factor in Apu's life and how it transforms the movie into a kind of transcendence one doesn't expect - at least not in the early going.

And, of course, this is one of the ways in which the movie sneaks up on you.

The first chunk of the film is extremely amiable on all fronts. Though Harihar continues to work his butt off for not much more than he was making before, the dough is at least steady and given the tragic events that befell the Roy family in Pather Panchali, it's a relief seeing these three people peacefully living out their lives in the city Sarbajaya always regretted leaving (and in fact, begged Harihar earlier in the previous movie to return to). If Sarabajaya isn't quite living out her "I had dreams once, too" lament from the first of the trilogy, this is still a far cry from the repressive life in Harihar's ancestral home in the country.

Then, like the snakes wending their way mysteriously through every corner of India, we are thrown for a loop narratively as tragedy strikes when we least expect it. Illness takes Harihar from the family in a manner that echoes sweet Durga's passing in Pather Panchali. Mother and Son are forced to leave the city behind and take up new positions in a new home with an affluent family in the country. Sarabajaya works as a domestic while Apu apprentices with an old uncle as a priest.

Life is once again lonely and quiet as before the move to Benares, but Mother and Son bond even closer and at least they aren't subject to the daily trials and tribulations of meddlesome neighbours and nasty relatives. On his way home from his morning chores at the Temple, Apu gazes longingly at all the young boys attending the local school. With his mother's cautious permission, he continues working the Temple by morning and going to school by day.

From leaving the city to this point in the narrative, Ray delivers one stunning emotional and/or poetic set piece after another - all very different in tone from Pather Panchali, but just as stirring and original. The train journey from Benares to the countryside takes on significant resonance for both Apu and his Mother. In Pather Panchali, the train was this distant thing that Apu desperately wished to see properly, but also represented flight and new beginnings.

Certainly, the opening images of Aparajito lead us into the city from the inside of a train's window, but at this latter juncture, Ray affords us an evocative montage of what Sarbajaya sees through the window - gradually diminishing vestiges of civilization and increasingly, endless fields and forests stretching out far and wide under a big, clean sky. This is a new beginning, alright, but one which transforms Sarbajaya's face from resolution, through to deep sadness and finally to a kind of blankness that's the most heartbreaking expression of all.

On a more joyous note, Ray crafts several great sequences involving Apu's education at school and with Sarbajaya, the tone jettisons into a kind of stratospheric elation. The pure jubilance with which Apu explains matters of science, nature and the world to his Mother fill her with pride, amazement and even the thrill of learning new things from her own son.

Eventually, Aparjito moves us into the adolescent years of Apu (now played by Smaran Ghosal) and we begin a new chapter in the lives of Mother and Son. It is here that Ray (as if we didn't already know it with Pather Panchali) firmly establishes his innate gifts as a filmmaker. The turn in the story alternates between joy and sadness. As the young man moves to Calcutta to begin college life and a new job at a printing press business, his mother remains behind in the rural farm where she continues to toil as a domestic and pines for every letter and increasingly infrequent visit from her son.

Eventually, our Apu truly becomes the unbeaten young man of a poverty-stricken existence. Knowledge not only fuels him, but so to does life in a place like Calcutta. As life is wont to do, an empty nest results in both parent and child facing a whole new life, but separated by distance and priorities, they will both be entering these worlds alone. One world yields opportunity, but for an illiterate widow living alone in the middle of nowhere, her world will offer what, sadly, it is only able to. The last third of the film is devastating to say the least, but with devastation comes rebuilding anew.

Once again, surrounding himself with his team of loyal creative crew, including composer Ravi Shankar (who manages to create an equally haunting score as he did in Pather Panchali) and cinematographer Subrata Mitra, Ray was able to generate yet another masterpiece and this time with a production fraught with numerous setbacks. In addition to the aforementioned casting difficulties (an actress who was to play Apu's Calcutta love interest and buggered off when her Old World hubby started giving her guff about having to hug and kiss her leading man), then financing issues (money falling in and out of place), a prolonged two-year on-again-off-again shooting schedule and the threat of monsoons scuttling a major already-planned series of sequences. To the latter, it was the brilliant Mitra who came up with the plan to match the neorealist look of the film by insisting they shoot on a soundstage and recreate sun pouring into a courtyard arrangement with a bit of cheesecloth and bounce boards. Nobody would ever notice the difference.

With his second film, Satyajit Ray proved conclusively that he was already a genuine Master with filmmaking hard-wired into his DNA. Way ahead of his time, he ultimately rendered this haunting tale with maturity, artistry and deep humanity. It turns out, Ray was just like that. As such, Aparjito is just like that, too. It keeps sneaking up on you, lifting you to the Heavens in one fell swoop, then slamming you to the ground the next, knocking the wind out of you, but always offering a hand-up from the misery and suffering, as if to always remind you of life's infinite delight, wonder and mystery.

Aparajito is presented with a restored 35mm (yes, real FILM) print at TIFF Bell Lightbox on July 4, 2014 at 6:30pm as part of the TIFF Cinematheque series "The Sun and the Moon: The Films of Satyajit Ray". This might be your only chance to see this masterpiece the way it was meant to be seen, so get your tickets NOW and GO. Visit the TIFF website for further details by clicking HERE.

DON'T FORGET TO BUY YOUR SATYAJIT RAY MOVIES FROM THE LINKS TO AMAZON.CA, AMAZON.COM and AMAZON.UK, BELOW. DOING SO WILL ASSIST WITH THE ONGOING MAINTENANCE OF THE FILM CORNER.

*BUYERS PLEASE NOTE* Amazon.ca (Canadian Amazon) has a relatively cruddy collection of Satyajit Ray product and generally shitty prices. Amazon.com has a huge selection of materials (including music and books) and decent prices. Amazon.UK has a GREAT selection of Satyajit Ray movies from a very cool company called Artificial Eye (second these days only to the Criterion Collection). Any decent Chinatown sells region-free Blu-Ray and DVD players for peanuts. Just get one (or several - they can be that cheap) and don't be afraid of ordering from foreign regions. The fucking film companies should just merge the formats into one acceptable delivery method worldwide. Besides, you can order anything you want from any country anyway.

AMAZON.CA:

AMAZON.COM:



AMAZON.UK:

PATHER PANCHALI (Song of the Little Road) - Review By Greg Klymkiw #1 of The Apu Trilogy by Satyajit Ray

Uma Dasgupta plays the sweet, saintly & sadly doomed Durga.

Little Durga & Auntie: Birds of a Feather.

Pather Panchali (Song of the Little Road (1955) dir. Satyajit Ray *****
Starring: Subir Banerjee, Kanu Banerjee, Karuna Banerjee, Uma Dasgupta, Runki Banerjee, Chunibala Devi, Tulsi Chakraborty

Review By Greg Klymkiw

From childhood to adolescence, Durga (Runki Banerjee and Uma Dasgupta respectively) has always adored Auntie (Chunibala Devi), but to everyone else, especially Durga's mother Sarbajaya (Karuna Banerjee), the wizened, hobbling, hunched-over old "hag" is not only an annoyance, but a burden. Auntie's feisty, impish and individualistic nature has been a particular thorn in Mom's side as she believes the old woman's been a bad influence upon her first-born. On the surface, Auntie has always adhered to her Old World "place" as a woman in Bengali society, but deep down her spirit has always been modern - ahead of its time, really.

If Auntie can do anything for Durga's future, it's to impart a sense of wonder and adventure within the child (Auntie's a spirited storyteller), but to also encourage her happy, willing young charge to properly utilize her smarts - the kind that allow a woman a depth of understanding in a patriarchal world and to use every bit of cunning at her disposal.

However, the sword on this, cuts two ways.

Pather Panchali begins with the child Durga brazenly (and clearly for the umpteenth time) stealing fruit from the orchards belonging to the neighbours, who are blood relatives of the nastiest kind and as it turns out, have swindled the orchard from Durga's father Harihar (Subir Banerjee). Even at her young age, this isn't lost on Durga, but also, she's a child and as such, their home is surrounded with more than enough fruit for everybody. Most importantly, Durga doesn't steal the fruit for herself, but to give it to Auntie. Lord knows, this pays off in spades for the old gal since the kid is happily plying her with juicy mangoes, a far cry from the spartan slop served up at the deeply impoverished family dinner table. It also irks Mom to no end since she's concerned that Durga's thieving will reflect badly on the family and her upbringing.

For me, Satyajit Roy has always delivered movies with exceptionally varied female characters. Yes, all his characters have depth, but there's something so unique and compelling about his sensitivity towards women. In many ways, he might well be the Neo-Realist Indian equivalent to the great George Cukor in that respect.

Pather Panchali is the first film in a trilogy that focuses upon a male character called Apu and is based on a classical Indian novel rooted in the country's strong tradition of "coming-of-age" stories. In spite of this and a slight shift in the film's perspective when the character of Apu is finally born, it's always been Durga's character who I've been especially drawn to - possibly because Apu (Subir Banerjee), though always compelling to keep one's eye on is, in many ways a very reactive, witness-like presence in the tale, whereas Durga is so vibrant and active.

It's Durga's promise as a human being, as a beautiful, intelligent young woman that, in spite of so many alternately heartbreaking and joyous moments in the film (and threads in the story), is what finally seems the most poignant and tragic of all. For all her chicanery, Durga seems almost saint-like in wanting to use her wiles to assist others. At the same time, she has a curiosity in the ways of the world that suggest how much she desires to maintain her individuality. So many girls of her age have already been in serious training to satisfy their husbands-to-be. She delights in their happiness at attaining these skills, but has virtually no interest in acquiring them herself.

Durga also understands fully the desire of her little brother to see a train, a miracle of the modern world that seems so far removed from their little village. The train, of course, represents flight as well as progress and one of the most magical sequences ever committed to film is an odyssey Durga takes little Apu on to see the train. The train, alas, takes a strange backseat to the journey itself and later in the film, there's a moment where Durga promises Apu a better, more proper opportunity to see the train. (And never, EVER, will a big sister's promise to her little brother be as deeply and passionately moving as this one proves to be.)

Ray's film clearly threw the Indian film industry for a loop. This was no epic melodrama with song and dance routines set against mythical backdrops of the past and relegated to larger-than-life studio sets and backlots. Pather Panchali was born from two major influences - the first being Ray's acquaintanceship with Jean Renoir during the shooting of the French auteur's The River in India and the other being Vittorio De Sica's Bicycle Thieves (aka The Bicycle Thief). Ray was convinced more than ever that movies could be made in India that pulsated with the life of the country itself and as such, could utilize actual locations and even rely upon amateur actors. Though most of Ray's principal actors in Pather Panchali had a good taste of stage acting prior to their appearance in his film, screen success had eluded them and his supporting performers and even the lead role of Apu were played by "real" people.

The movie has the feeling of being loose and episodic, but beneath this "veneer" of Neo-Realist movie-making was a narrative as strong and solid as one would ever want. It's as if Ray used real life to instigate his film's story beats and though this was completely new for Indian Cinema, it was certainly a rare property in any films of its time (and most certainly in ours). Ray proves meticulous in his compositions and with his cinematographer Subrata Mitra he goes above and beyond the call of duty. Every shot feels utterly exquisite, yet never indulgent. Whether capturing simple dramatic beats, dialogue sequences or dramatic action, the camera calls attention to the salient details within the frame as opposed to itself. Even in the poetic and cerebral sequences, everything feels as if it's in service to the narrative and thematic elements. Ray, of course, wisely selected Ravi Shankar to compose the stunning musical score (one of the very best in movie history) and while it serves to underscore everything it needs to, Shankar goes delectably mad during the poetic sequences - so much so that one either gets completely lost in the ethereal qualities of the imagery or, better yet (as exemplified during a montage of insects dancing across the water) one feels compelled to leap up from one's seat and engage in some manner of dervish-like gymnastics.

One astonishing moment where the film seems to literally meander from the narrative is when Apu watches an Indian brass band, adorned in Colonial fineries, ever-so spirited, yet hilariously out of tune as they blast out a goofy, but heartfelt rendition of "It's a Long Way to Tipperary". Here, the camera leaves the scene and we're afforded a beautiful montage delivering a variety of life (and lives) pulsating around them. This is no mere indulgence, but rather an extraordinary reflection upon the lives of all the people living near our family and as such, a reiteration of what affects them societally, culturally and emotionally, yet doing so to give us a sense that what the family is going through, is as profoundly disappointing and frustrating to so many in this impoverished country.

Throughout the film one senses that Ray is probably most entranced with Durga's character also. If anything, she feels closer to someone who'd be a worthy on-screen surrogate for the filmmaker. It certainly wouldn't be her father Harihar, a man of of letters and intelligence with a desire to be a great writer, but reduced to taking vaguely menial and/or administrative positions to support his family. We're constantly frustrated with this kindly man who is so obviously lacking in real motivation and gumption. His choice to locate the family in his ancestral home in the country instead of raising them in the city is one reason why they all live in such dire poverty, but even worse, why Harihar has wasted his gifts due to his endless procrastination. When he finally admits to his wife Sarbajaya that he gave up on all his dreams, we believe it.

A sequence which Ray handles exquisitely is a conversation between the husband and wife. Sarbajaya attempts to analyze where things went wrong, but to also provide a very solid, intelligent and well-reasoned plan for the family to leave this life of poverty and isolation behind. All Harihar can do is resort to the self-pity of it being too late to make dreams come true that he had abandoned a long time ago.

There's a moment and a manner in which Ray trains his camera on Sarbajaya that's so simple and yet so breathtaking. It's maybe the first time in the film where we see this "traditional" wife display the very vision that her own daughter and even Auntie have had.

"I had dreams, too," Sarbajaya declares. For the first time in the film we genuinely understand her attitudes towards both her daughter and Auntie. It's also a point in the narrative where she displays a shift in how she views her extraordinary daughter. Alas, as things turn out, it comes too late.

This, in fact, might be an especially poignant subtext to the entire film - making the right decisions at the wrong time, all of which seem to resonate with a powerhouse force - especially when characters begin to realize how huge an impact their decisions have had upon them and their family. Needless to say, there is heartache and tragedy to befall the family, but it's their own choice to make the concerted effort to move on. Moving on might be their only salvation and one that so many lives in this world will experience and acknowledge. Never, however, will they face and acknowledge this notion of life itself with the same force Ray delivers on film.

Auntie, of course, knows all about moving on. She sits alone one clear, starry night and sings about her death:

"Those who came after have already gone. Leaving me behind, the poorest of beggars. Night's mantle descends. Row me across to the other side. Oh, hurry, Lord of the Crossings."

It's the other side that not only offers rest to the weary, but hopefully, there's another other side in life, in the here and now - one that can offer contentment beyond eternal rest, but one that rather provides new beginnings. It's the least we can look forward to, strive for and to live out our small and seemingly inconsequential lives as we too embark upon that "little road".

Pather Panchali is presented with a RESTORED 35mm (yes, REAL FILM) PRINT at TIFF Bell Lightbox on July 3, 2014 at 6:30pm as part of the TIFF Cinematheque series "The Sun and the Moon: The Films of Satyajit Ray". This might be your only chance to see this masterpiece the way it was meant to be seen, so get your tickets NOW and GO. Visit the TIFF website for further details by clicking HERE.

DON'T FORGET TO BUY YOUR SATYAJIT RAY MOVIES FROM THE LINKS TO AMAZON.CA, AMAZON.COM and AMAZON.UK, BELOW. DOING SO WILL ASSIST WITH THE ONGOING MAINTENANCE OF THE FILM CORNER.

*BUYERS PLEASE NOTE* Amazon.ca (Canadian Amazon) has a relatively cruddy collection of Satyajit Ray product and generally shitty prices. Amazon.com has a huge selection of materials (including music and books) and decent prices. Amazon.UK has a GREAT selection of Satyajit Ray movies from a very cool company called Artificial Eye (second these days only to the Criterion Collection). Any decent Chinatown sells region-free Blu-Ray and DVD players for peanuts. Just get one (or several - they can be that cheap) and don't be afraid of ordering from foreign regions. The fucking film companies should just merge the formats into one acceptable delivery method worldwide. Besides, you can order anything you want from any country anyway.

AMAZON.CA:

AMAZON.COM:



AMAZON.UK:

COME BACK, AFRICA - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Astonishing Milestone Film&Video BluRay

Can you imagine making a film about Apartheid - in secret, in South Africa - while Nelson Mandela is, at the very same time, on trial for treason? Such a film was made and if one is able to declare that shooting a film can be an act of bravery, then legendary filmmaker Lionel Rogosin might be cinema's greatest hero of all. In fact, the risks taken by all those involved in creating the film Come Back, Africa were so fraught with danger that even now, it's impossible to look at it without gasping with awe and horror in equal measure. Created over a period of two years, Rogosin's film remains the most important film ever made to depict the horrendous regime of Apartheid. Available on the visionary Milestone Film and Video label - such a must-own item that if you were to buy only one movie this year, this would have to be it.

Miriam Makeba: one of South Africa's greatest female vocalists had never been heard outside her country until Lionel Rogosin managed to get her out to attend the film's World Premiere at the Venice International Film Festival.

Come Back, Africa (1959) *****
Dir. Lionel Rogosin, Starring: Zacharia Mgabi, Vinah Bendile, Miriam Makeba, Myrtle Berman

Review By Greg Klymkiw

"...the greatest documentary filmmaker of all time." - John Cassavetes

"...a film of terrible beauty, of the ongoing life it captured and of the spirit embodied by Rogosin and his fellow artists.” - Martin Scorsese on Lionel Rogosin's Come Back, Africa

Rogosin's footage was shot in secret.
A Child Labourer in the Diamond Mines
of South Africa under the Apartheid Regime.

Nobody made movies like Lionel Rogosin. His first feature film On the Bowery broke every rule in the book and in so doing, created a whole new set of rules that inspired and defined filmmaking for over half a century including the likes of John Cassavetes, John Schlesinger, Karel Reizs, Richard Lester and Martin Scorsese (not to mention a myriad of documentary directors).

Rogosin's brilliant approach - an amalgam of Flaherty, Italian Neo-Realism and his own unique method - resulted in what could be called docudrama, though even that word seems too inconsequential to describe how he made movies.

After seeing Vittorio De Sica's Bicycle Thieves (AKA The Bicycle Thief), Rogosin gave up his career as an engineer. He had to make movies - movies that captured the reality of the times and most of all, to give voice to the disenfranchised through the art of cinema.

On The Bowery (a link to my review is at the end of this piece) examined the harrowing Post-War existence of skid-row alcoholics on the Bowery of Manhattan. Come Back, Africa would employ his style even further to examine the lives of Black Africans in South Africa under the horrendous regime of Apartheid. Travelling to South Africa with his pregnant wife, Rogosin spent six months getting to know people - both Black and White - who could generously provide an opportunity for him to observe what life was like under Apartheid. (Rogosin took a similar approach with On the Bowery, spending months on skid-row.)

Lionel Rogosin on-set: making reality.

Based on people he met, locations he viewed, numerous shocking (as well as inspiring and positive) incidents he witnessed and generally just soaking up everything he could, Rogosin put together a treatment of what shape his film would take and eventually collaborated with two Black journalists/activists Lewis Nkosi and William Modisane on a screenplay.

Casting the film with non-actors who were as close in reality to the kinds of people written as "characters" (real domestics, diamond mine workers, unskilled general labourers, etc.) and continually bamboozling the White South African officials into thinking he was producing a travelogue, Rogosin began to shoot the film proper. Casting the White African characters was a bit trickier, but as he'd connected with numerous people who secretly despised Apartheid, he was able to get those actors as well.

What we experience is simply and utterly astonishing. There is no other film quite as extraordinarily detailed in the depiction of life under Apartheid - in the very country, amongst the actual locations, with real people and during the horrendous early years of a regime in which segregation and racism were actually legislated (and where men like Mandela were paying dearly for their human rights stances). In addition to shooting all over Johannesburg, Rogosin was afforded the amazing opportunity to shoot in the Black townships. In fact, much of these scenes are set in Sophiatown which was actually being levelled during the shooting to eventually build a swanky White-Only suburb.

ZACHARIAH'S DEVASTATION

The tale told is a simple one, but it reflects the actual events and experiences all Blacks lived through in South Africa. This "simple" story is our conduit into the very lives of the people during this time. We see a man forced to leave his wife and kids behind in their country village and work in a diamond mine. With wages withheld (and not very good to begin with), he's forced to ask his wife to sell some of their livestock so he can actually have money to live on. We experience what life is like as a domestic servant with a racist White housewife - screaming at the man constantly, using the most ugly racial epithets one can imagine. We're party to Black workers being fired by racists, endless demands by police for paperwork and passes, the "White-Only" and "Black-Only" segregation, squalid living conditions, brutal back-breaking work, child labour, raids and arrests upon those without the proper paperwork and even the rape and murder of a woman whose husband is stupidly detained by officials and not home to protect his wife.

There are, of course, wonderful things - the vibrancy and music of the people in the townships away from their oppressors and amongst each other, the late night gatherings of intelligent political discussion mixed with spirits, music and even dancing and yes, we even meet one White person who is a genuine, caring human being (though sadly and apologetically forced to do something he'd rather not do - yes, White people could be detained, beaten, jailed and/or charged with treason).

And here was Lionel Rogosin, his pregnant wife and a handful of European crew members living in this madhouse called South Africa and actually making a film that would secretly expose life under Apartheid for the rest of the world to see - working collaboratively with a local cast and crew who were risking EVERYTHING to make this film a reality. The shooting days began at 5AM and often didn't end until 11PM - everyday for well over a month, constantly shifting locales and working in secret. Every couple of days, Rogosin would make mad dashes to the airport to put his footage on airplanes to New York and one night, on a particularly treacherous road, was rammed head-on by another car. Miraculously, his wife didn't miscarry and their first child was born in South Africa.

I've watched this film several times since I received the Blu-Ray. During every single viewing I'm stunned. My jaw drops, my heart soars and my tears flow. All I will do now is reiterate:

Nobody, but nobody made films like Lionel Rogosin.

The art of cinema and indeed, the world, owes him a huge debt of gratitude. Come Back, Africa is a bonafide masterpiece - it's one of the greatest films of all-time.

Come Back, Africa is part of the Milestone Film and Video "Milestone Cinematheque" series and Volume II of the ongoing collection entitled "The Films of Lionel Rogosin" (Volume I is the aforementioned On The Bowery). This is an extraordinary two-disc Blu-Ray set, chock-full of valuable extra feature. Disc 1 includes the full feature film Come Back, Africa, restored by the Cineteca del Comune di Bologna and gorgeously transferred from the 2K restoration. The feature includes SDH subtitles and a wonderful Martin Scorsese Introduction. As if this wasn't enough, we get the outstanding Michael Rogosin/Lloyd Ross 64-minute documentary entitled An American in Sophiatown: The making of Come Back, Africa, an astonishing 20-minute radio interview with Lionel Rogosin discussing Come Back, Africa and the movie's theatrical trailer. Disc Two is just as extraordinary and I'll be reviewing it in separate article.

In the meantime, feel free to read my original review of Rogosin's On the Bowery by clicking HERE and if you do not own either of the Milestone Rogosin films, feel free to click on the Amazon links (options available for Amazon.ca, Amazon.com and Amazon.UK) below and order straight from here. Ordering from this site allows for modest returns that assist with the ongoing maintenance of The Film Corner.

In USA and the rest of the WORLD - BUY Come Back, Africa - HERE!

In Canada - BUY Come Back, Africa HERE, eh!

In the UNITED KINGDOM - BUY Come Back, Africa - HERE!

Carré blanc - Reviews by Greg Klymkiw - Recent SciFi that makes Under the Skin pale in comparison

Under The Skin, a film by Jonathan Glazer, is awful. I respect Glazer for trying to make a contemporary Science Fiction picture that isn't just a dumb action movie disguised as Science Fiction, but alas, it truly does fall flat on its face.

There is, however, a great film that made my 10 Best Films of 2011 list that hits all the right buttons that Glazer misses by several country miles. Harkening back to the great 70s science-fiction film classics, Jean-Baptiste Léonetti’s debut feature Carré blanc is easily one of the finest dystopian visions of the future to be etched upon celluloid since that dazzling decade.

The tale is, on its surface and as in many great movies, a simple one. Philippe and Marie grew up together in a state orphanage and are now married. They live in a stark, often silent corporate world bereft of any vibrant colour and emotion.

Philippe is a most valued lackey of the state – he is an interrogator-cum-indoctrinator. Marie is withdrawing deeper and deeper into a cocoon as the love she once felt for Philippe is transforming into indifference. In this world, though, hatred is as much a luxury as love.

Tangible feelings and simple foibles are punished with torture and death. Indifference, it would seem, is the goal. It ensures complete subservience to the dominant forces. Love, however, is ultimately the force the New World Order is helpless to fight and it is at the core of this story. If Philippe and Marie can somehow rediscover that bond, there might yet be hope – for them, and the world. It is this aspect of the story that always keeps the movie floating above a mere exercise in style and makes it an instant classic of science fiction. First screened at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011)

Love in Dystopia: Contemporary SciFi in a 70s tradition.

Carré blanc is a great film. I've written 2 pieces on it for the ultra-cool UK film magazine Electric Sheep - a deviant view of Cinema. The first is a review that can be accessed HERE and the second is a critical essay on the astounding score and soundscape. Here's a brief excerpt from the article which can be accessed in its entirety by click HERE:

When Score and Sound Design Become Indistinguishable: The Universality of Evgueni Galperine’s Music for Carré blanc

excerpt from Greg Klymkiw's
Electric Sheep article:

The goal of the Brave New World that Léonetti presents appears to be little more than indifference, and as such it’s especially important to make note of the astounding score by Evgueni Galperine [which is unlike] the horrendously bombastic ‘action’ scores so prevalent in contemporary science fiction films, with Michael Giacchino’s pounding notes in the J. J. Abrams reboots of Star Trek, or the wham-bam-in-your-face styling of Ryan Amon’s Elysium score and, lest we forget, any of John Williams’s sweeping orchestral noodlings in George Lucas’s Star Wars space operas.

If anything, Galperine successfully roots his music in a spare blend of electronic soundscape, eerie source music and very light orchestral background. In fact, it’s sometimes impossible to distinguish between score and sound design – something that was so integral to dystopian science fiction films of the 1970s, most notably, the creepy crawly work of Denny Zeitlin in Philip Kaufman’s immortal remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

Read the full article HERE and the review HERE.