SXSW: 'Bitch Ass': A Slasher Horror From the Hood
With its forwardly foul-mouthed title alone, Bitch Ass certainly makes a stark first impression. That same confrontational quality carries through in writer-director Bill Posley's self-assured film. Certainly, it exudes bold, confident energy from beginning to end. Ultimately though, Bitch Ass's templated writing, low production value, and lack of distinct directorial vision limit it to only being a low-entertainment slasher film.
It's not for a lack of having ambitious inspirations that Bitch Ass doesn't succeed. Opening with a Vincent Price-like narrator who quite literally references famous Black slasher films like Bones, The Bone Collector, and People Under the Stairs, we can assume that director Bill Posley (who also wrote the film with Jonathan Colomb) reveres the genre he's working in. But as Bitch Ass continues, it's pretty clear that those references are more aspirational than earned.
The story follows a group of high schoolers who, at the instruction of gang leader Spade ( ) on "666 night" (just a scary-sounding name), break into the house of a deceased woman to rob it. Little do they know, the youths have stumbled into the house of "Bitch Ass," a once-bullied high schooler who has transformed from a victim–with a love of board games–into a sadistic serial killer, who challenges his prey to elaborately-staged games to the death.
It's not hard to imagine how Jigsaw's infamous "Do you want to play a game?" line may have provided the entire grounds for this story. As the kids enter the house and subsequently get picked off (is everyone really unable to hear each other's blood-curling screams from within this suburban two-story house in the middle of the night?), they each become victims for these games, that wink at names like "Operation" and "Battleship" by re-naming their grizzly counterparts as "Surgeon" and "Mayday."
Bitch Ass is at its most unique and entertaining when we are in the moments of these games. The film quite literally goes into a "versus mode," entering different styles of split screens in which to capture the screaming faces and scenes. But these moments are also pretty cringingly staged, which only exposes the film's silliness rather than scariness. At its best, it's a fun campy experience but at its worst, it's like walking through a cheap haunted house.
If I could ask director Bill Posley a question, it'd be why he never changes the lens on any shot within any scene. Every shot is noticeably ultra-wide, which makes for an odd watch and also compresses the film into one emotional note, making it feel flat and poorly designed. The film could have been heightened even more if we saw varied shots so as to get different experiences within the characters and storytelling.
Even though Bill Posley's execution might not be all the way there, he does offer a lot in terms of creativity and ideas. He aspires to weave together a slasher story while also flashing back to making an origin story of the high schooler who was bullied. He is routinely called "Bitch Ass" by the bullies who torment him, to which the film gets its exciting name; but I think a title that's more board game-related (Don't Pass Go?) would better characterize this movie.
If you're looking to watch a campy slasher movie, or if you're curious to see a version of Saw that is quite literally based on kid's board games, you may enjoy the cheap thrills that Bitch Ass offers. While I didn't find that it transcended its low-budget limitations to become anything more, there's a level of inventive storytelling and raw power that makes Bitch Ass a defiantly unique movie.
'Alice' is Part-Slavery Film, Part-Blaxploitation Riff
Our review of ‘Alice’ was first published as part of our Sundance Film Festival 2022 coverage.
Where to watch: Now playing in theaters.
Alice opens with a shot of a woman running desperately through a field. More specifically, she's a Black woman in a plantation dress, so we have an idea as to why she's likely in fear. She runs until she stops. And then, she lets out a blood-curdling scream. A curiously anachronistic title card covers the screen: "Alice," in a very 70s style font.
This intro and title card reveal is stylistically cool, but also a bit clunky. So is most of first-time feature filmmaker Krystin Ver Linden's directorial debut, Alice, in which a runaway slave escapes her plantation, only to find herself in a different reality.
It's a hell of a premise (actually, I learned that it's also very similar to the 2020 horror film Antebellum, which I've yet to see). Alice is one of those films with a really interesting concept but not a great execution. For this reason, I think some people will really dig it for its inventive and fresh storytelling but if you're like me, you won't be able to escape the problems with its awkwardly mashed-up tone and narrative incomprehension.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwbhXcwWoM4&feature=emb_title
Back to that opening: it's actually a very exciting start, and really pretty gripping. When that groovy title card splashes across the screen, you think it's immediately about to swerve into fun. But it doesn't. Alice then slogs through a multitude of scenes of plantation life, which move painfully and slowly forward. Any sense of urgency is lost, and we even lose Alice (Keke Palmer) for a good while, too.
Although it's pretty beautifully shot, with very fine period piece production (including its location, costume, and cinematography), the story doesn't launch us forward in an exciting way. For one, we get way too much screentime from Jonny Lee Miller as Paul Bennet, the plantation owner. There are exciting early moments like a different (unsuccessful) runaway attempt. But it's so awkwardly choreographed and without Alice being involved herself, it's confusing to wonder where this movie is really headed.
It's almost halfway into the film when Alice finally asserts herself (running away from that intro's plantation) and the movie makes its reveal. It's not exactly a spoiler to give away what happens next (think M. Night Shyamalan's The Village). In fact, I think people's interest in this movie will be roused by knowing that once Alice runs away and gets to the side of the road, she's almost hit by a car zooming down the highway. It's not the Antebellum south, but somehow, 1973.
She's picked up by truck-driving Frank (Common), who gives her a ride into town. He apparently doesn't find it odd that not only is she struggling to comprehend everything around her in wide-eyed panic, but she's also covered in blood (there's a struggle she's involved with before she gets here). Frank takes Alice to the hospital, but when he sees that she might be admitted to the psychiatric ward, he decides to let her stay with him to look after her.
You might be able to guess what happens next: Alice slowly comes to grips with what time of year it is, a time in which slavery has been abolished (although, she is smack dab in the Civil Rights act). Again: an interesting idea, but the writing doesn't totally work here. Rather than panicking that she's somehow transported a century into the future (or has she?), she's left with lines like asking Frank, "Are you free?," and to his fellow farmworkers, "Are these your domestics?" Keke Palmer gives everything she has to this performance but the awkward writing and story choices force her to do some pretty eye-rolling acting.
Now able to read books in Frank's apartment, she phonetically sounds out words like "slavery" and "Emancipation Proclamation"–which would have been more powerful if silently conveyed. It's this sort of deliberateness throughout Alice that makes the film a little too heavy-handed.
If you're able to get past the awkward writing, then you'll likely appreciate all of the fun that is to (eventually) come. Alice's education and consumption of Black culture are captured through different pop culture media: in magazines like Ebony and Rolling Stone, Stevie Wonder and Nina Simone, and on TV like Sanford & Son and Black Panther news. And then, all roads lead to Alice's most transformative moment: going to the movies to see Pam Grier's iconic classic "Coffy," the singular moment that then shifts the movie from slavery film, to time travel movie, to wild Blaxploitation ending (think Django Unchained meets Back to the Future).
While there are some problems with the story, it's undeniable that Alice is still a fresh new story and interesting vision from a first-time filmmaker, whose idea and concepts should be celebrated.
100 min.
'After Yang' is a Gorgeous, Thoughtfully Imagined Sci-Fi Meditation
Our review of 'After Yang' was first published as part of our Sundance Film Festival 2022 coverage.
Where to watch: Now playing in select theaters and on Showtime.
With his gifted eye for aesthetics, Kogonada's films are among the most arresting in movies today. His ability to compose beautifully designed, richly crafted shots of environments and the people who inhabit them, makes his films visually and singularly special. Add to that, his inclination as a storyteller to explore deeply meditative stories that reflect on the meaning of life, and you'll find that watching a film by Kogonada is a truly transcendent experience. What's crazy about that high praise is that he's only made two feature films to date: 2017's Columbus, and now, After Yang.
It might give you pause to wonder how a person who's only made two movies in his life could make them so artistically accomplished. However, those who know Kogonada's story also know that, prior to directing, his professional career consisted of creating video essays, whose excellence elevated the importance and recognition of the entire medium as an art form itself.
Understanding and showcasing the filmmaking methods of cinema's greats is no doubt what also made his first feature, Columbus, so refined and such a praiseworthy debut. Here, with his even more ambitious second feature After Yang, it's exciting to see him expand his artistic talents by entering a world of highly conceptual sci-fi that visualizes even more complex worlds with even deeper questions to ponder.
Making its world premiere at last year's Cannes Film Festival, but now making its North American premiere at this year's Sundance Film Festival, After Yang is set in the future in which humans exist alongside artificially intelligent androids, whose self-aware sentience now force humans to confront their own lives; and with that, their shortcomings.
Adapted from a short story by Alexander Weinstein ("Saying Goodbye to Yang"), After Yang tells the story of a beautiful–but at first glance, curiously diverse–family, whose connection we've yet to understand. We learn that Jake (Colin Farrell) and Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith) are parents to an adopted Chinese daughter, Mika (Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja). The last one to run into the framing of a self-timed family photo is the techno-sapien, Yang (Justin H. Min).
Yang's inclusion in the family is part of society's larger trend in which parents buy "Second Siblings," autonomous robots that are able to provide companionship as well as a cultural history of their adopted children's heritage to them. Wise and thoughtful, Yang also provides philosophical guidance to Mika, helping her better understand her own adoption, in one instance likening her to a branch that's been grafted onto a tree to create new life. In this respect, Mika's connection with Yang is uniquely special. So, when Yang abruptly stops functioning, it throws Mika into disarray. Jake takes Yang to a third-party worker, and when Yang is examined, a discovery leads to shock: a piece of technology is found to allow Yang to create memories from his life.
Kogonada uses Jake's studying of Yang's memories (visualized as gorgeously glowing web-like stars in the sky) to reflect upon how much he's lost touch with his own family, and the special moments he's overlooked in his own life. Montages of these fleeting moments from Yang's point of view–daylight spilling in through a window, leaves nestling in the wind, nature in its most simple and beautiful form–are beautifully lensed by cinematographer Benjamin Loeb (When You Finish Saving the World). Similar to Pixar's Soul, the mundane moments are seen as the real magical moments of life.
It's here, within the reviewing of these temporal, fragile memories that Kogonada puts forward his deepest questions and philosophical statements. I can't stop thinking about one such scene between Yang and Kyra, in which, as they discuss the temporality of life, Yang wisely quotes Lao Tsu, saying "what the caterpillar calls the end, the rest of the world calls a butterfly."
A moving score from ASKA, as well as an additional theme composed expressly for the film by Oscar-winning legend Ryuichi Sakamoto, add even more beauty to After Yang. Kogonada's masterfully crafted second feature film examines life's deepest questions on the grandest level of life. What's more, we also see Kogonada reflect on his own Asian ancestry, which also allows the audience to question our own identities through understanding our ancestry.
The performances throughout the film are all emotionally felt. Each of the actors' scenes, including Colin Farrell, Jodie Turner-Smith, Justin H. Min, and Haley Lu Richardson, all resonate deeply in their tender honesty. They convey a tranquil serenity to Kogonada's gorgeously created world, while also expressing such deeply felt feelings like grief, loss, and the fear of life's finiteness.
While you'll have to slow yourself down to its patient, slow-burning pace, it left my heart swelling, eyes tearing, and soul transcending. After Yang is a deeply beautiful, profound, and amazing achievement from Kogonada that will make you look at your world and life with a little more wonder after.
96 minutes.
The Sweeping Musical 'Cyrano' Aims For The Heart, and Hits
The new movie Cyrano is a heartfelt romantic musical that turned me into putty in its hands. Based on the timeless tale of Cyrano de Bergerac–a man gifted with words yet fated with an unconventional appearance–it's the story of a heartbreaking and tragic love triangle. However, seeing the power of true love on screen also makes for one of the most uplifting movies to see this season.
When he learns that his friend and secret love, Roxanne, has fallen in love with another man, the gifted wordsmith Cyrano agrees to write his love letters to her. Concealing his own feelings, he resigns to living a life where he hides away his love. Directed by Joe Wright (Atonement, Pride & Prejudice), Cyrano stars Peter Dinklage in the title role.
From Stage to Screen
The original story goes back to the classic “Cyrano de Bergerac,” written by Edmond Rostand. Director Joe Wright's Cyrano is based on the most recent stage play adapted and directed by Erica Schmidt (who's married to Dinklage). Previous versions of the story make Cyrano's comically long nose his character's tragic physical feature. Yet the film uses Peter Dinklage's short stature as the attribute that fuels Cyrano's insecurities and society's rebuke.
For such an open-hearted romantic musical to work, the music needs to be truly moving. And this score is. Written by The National (music written by Aaron & Bryce Dessner and lyrics by Matt Berninger & Carin Besser), Cyrano's soundtrack is brooding and moving in ways that fans of the band will recognize. The most sweeping song that is sure to stick with audiences is "Someone to Say." It's a heartwrenching and beautiful song that's buried itself deep in my head since seeing it in the film's trailer.
Peter Dinklage Captivates
As the title character, Peter Dinklage captivates and commands the screen. He showcases his trademark charm and wit. But seeing him long for Roxanne as a sort of doomed "Phantom of the Opera" shows even more range than what we've seen from him before. His chemistry with Roxanne–the centerpiece romance of the film–is also uplifting and heart-aching. As Roxanne, Haley Bennett is wonderful. Her singing voice is beautiful, her character desirable, and her character so pure-hearted.
Rounding out the cast is Kelvin Harrison Jr. as the young Christian. As the one who Roxanne falls in love with, at first sight, his role is tricky. Christian needs to play the "dumb hunk" who needs Cyrano's words, but also someone with who we connect to and sympathize with. And Harrison Jr. plays both sides well, with a great singing voice too. The real villain role is saved for Ben Mendelsohn. As the powerful De Guiche, Mendelsohn snarls his way into banishing both Cyrano and Christian away from Roxanne–who De Guiche himself is set to marry–by sending them into a war that looms large over the country.
A Heartaching Love Story
If there's anyone who knows how to make an impassioned romantic period piece film, it's Joe Wright. His most recent sweeping love stories Pride & Prejudice (2005) and Atonement (2007) are among the more recent classic love stories in modern cinema. Although Cyrano is his first musical, Wright knows how to craft a heart-aching love story and make it resonate with audiences. With exceptional performances from Dinklage and Bennett, as well as The National's moving score, Cyrano moved me in all the right ways.
Ultimately, I absolutely recommend Cyrano to fans of musicals, period piece films, or fans of sweeping romantic dramas. Fans of Joe Wright, Peter Dinklage, or The National will also find plenty to love about Cyrano. It's an accomplished film and respectable musical. And it is sure to resonate in your head and heart long after watching.
2h 4m. 'Cyrano' is rated PG-13 for some strong violence, thematic and suggestive material, and brief language. In theaters on February 25, 2022.
This review originally ran on December 28, 2021.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5e8apSFDXsQ&ab_channel=MGM
In Twist-Filled Drama 'Sundown,' Tim Roth Reveals His Shadow Self
Where to watch: 'Sundown' is now playing in select theaters and available to rent on Digital Platforms.
When it first begins, Sundown slows you down to its wonderfully relaxing, worry-free vacation time. The sight of Tim Roth endlessly lounging in a luxurious resort overlooking a beautiful Mexican coastline had me enjoying every gorgeously serene and sun-drenched moment (and made me remember his other vacation film, 2021's Bergman Island). Then, Sundown's darker story begins to unfold, and the shadows begin to loom large. Soon enough, I also remembered the other side of the fantasy that vacations offer: escaping from your current circumstances, and yourself.
Related: In 'Bergman Island,' An Artist Couple Confront Their Love on the Coast
Unless anybody spoils the story for you (don't worry, I'll spare you any overly- revelatory details here), you'll have absolutely no idea what to expect in this twist-filled, thrilling drama. Heading into Sundown as blind as possible really will make for the best viewing experience. Although even I knew a tad more than I would've liked to have known before going in, I was still entirely unprepared for what Sundown had in store.
Written and directed by Michel Franco (2020's New Order), Sundown is a slow-burn film that follows Neil (Tim Roth) on vacation in Mexico with his family, Alice (Charlotte Gainsbourg), Alexa (Albertine Kotting McMillan), and Colin (Samuel Bottomley). When an unexpected emergency summons them all back home to London, the family must cut their trip short and hurry to the airport. It's a tense moment, made even more heart-dropping when Neil realizes that he's forgotten his passport back at the hotel. Unable to join them on the flight and now separated from his family, he hops into a taxi. When the driver asks where he's headed–and it's here where the film gets interesting– Neil simply requests to be taken to a hotel–any hotel.
Puzzled, we're left trying to make sense of what's going on in Neil's head by studying his calm demeanor and blank, expressionless stares (the film definitely hints that something's on his mind, with shots of him staring vacantly into the ocean and pools). Neil proceeds to aimlessly walkabout in his flip-flops, having beers on the beach, and even meeting a local, Berenice (Iazua Larios). While Alice continues to try to contact him, Neil continues to deceive and avoid her calls. We're now fully only along for this mysterious ride, and the Sundown only dials up the heat from there.
Writer-director Michel Franco patiently divulges every piece of new information, which ratchets up the suspense in every scene. Neil's avoidance really gets under your skin–a cinematic sunburn–when you consider how easy it would be for any one of us to do exactly that. We've all had fantasies where we imagine leaving our old lives behind, impulsively staying on that never-ending vacation. Sometimes it's in the pursuit of enjoying the pleasures that the world has to offer, other times it's for deeper, more twisted and complex reasons. Like avoiding sinister truths that we can only attempt to outrun for so long.
Franco teases out the rest of Neil's larger story so well, and especially in regards to how he shoots the film. Yves Cape's (2012's Holy Motors) beautiful cinematography consists of widely framed shots, immersing and hiding Neil in his surroundings. The enduring images in Sundown are of Neil slumped over in various lounge chairs, staring vacantly into large bodies of water (the ocean, a hotel pool, it makes no difference). Also, from behind, in three-quarter, and side-profile shots (there is always a side of him we're not seeing). Franco uses the idea of the sun and the shadow to further symbolize Neil's internally conflicted state. Neil stays mostly in the shadows of his hotel room or on the beach, except for a sprinkling of moments where he's head-on in the scorching sunlight.
Tim Roth is truly exceptional here. As Neil, Roth gives a mostly quiet, internal, and understated performance. The longer Neil remains unwaveringly relaxed under these distressing times, the tension grows to wildly unexpected new heights. We eventually learn about Neil's history and his family's global significance as an affluent business, which reveals Neil's strange behavior. With Sundown, Roth continues to re-emerge onto the film scene as an unsettling, pathological figure (look for him as an unnerving villain in Resurrection, which premiered at Sundance this year). Just by sipping a beer, or even while doing nothing, Roth radiates an unnerving quality who seems to be possessed by the question: what is peace? Is it the sustained feeling of happiness, or can peace just be what's left when you've outrun the darkness?
Related: Sundance: Rebecca Hall Unravels in Psychological Thriller, ‘Resurrection’
If you're intrigued, and in search of a smartly-written film that starts as a slow-burn drama before ending up as a head-spinning, jaw-dropping hallucinatory fever dream of a film, then look no further than Sundown. Led by an incredible performance by Tim Roth, Sundown is one of the most unexpected, gripping, and utterly arresting dramas I've had the joy of seeing recently.
1h 22m. 'Sundown' is rated R for sexual content, violence, language, and some graphic nudity.
https://youtu.be/dte6YUfWwHw
Sundance: 'Summering' Celebrates Girlhood and Friendship
James Ponsoldt is a director who's made a wide range of movies. Of them, there are some I've really connected with, like 2013's The Spectacular Now and 2015's The End of the Tour. Looking closer, I think the reason behind why I appreciate both films is because, in them, characters are drawn towards pursuing a strangely alluring kind of darkness in life. His new film, Summering, a coming-of-age story about a group of friends who bond over an unexpected discovery during their last days of summer, couldn't be further from those films. But Ponsoldt does infuse a bit of fate into this childhood story that makes it just a bit more elevated and smart than it might've been in the hands of another writer-director.
It's an interesting shift of gears that Ponsoldt makes here. Having previously made movies with more mature themes and artistic stature–whether about alcoholic high schoolers or the tragic beauty of David Foster Wallace–he's now at a place in his life where he wants to celebrate the transient beauty of young people and their friendship. Perhaps after making these darker films, he knows how fleeting this pure time in life is.
As Ponsoldt said while (virtually) introducing the film during its premiere at the Sundance film festival, Summering was born "out of a desire to see better films about his daughter wife, and mother." So, it's clear that he intended to make something lighter, something he could show his family and that they would hopefully also enjoy. After watching the film, it's quite obvious how much he wants to celebrate girlhood, and girl power, from a very proud girl dad.
It's the last few days of summer, and four best friends–Daisy (Lia Barnet), Dina (Madalen Mills), Mari (Eden Grace Redfield), and Lola (Sanai Victoria)–intend to spend it together, playing in the bright sunshine without an adult in sight. Summering sets out to capture the magic of youth, friendship, and growing up. Ponsoldt's camera captures highly stylized sequences of them all running in slow-motion and making dreamlike leaps over creeks, magical moments with enchanted music underneath. If the whole thing feels a bit too cheesy, it's clearly because he can't help himself. But then again, with this much joy and beauty being captured, why would you want to?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BEyJP5pHcU
However, the magic is quickly countered when they stumble upon a dead body in their secret spot in the woods (cue Stand By Me). Interestingly, they aren't scared or even shocked. In fact, they stoically and smartly decide not to tell anyone about it, knowing they'll just be coddled ("They'll think we're like, traumatized.") (Side note: they're not?).
Ponsoldt doesn't forget that these young friends are still just kids. But what he does here is treat them with respect, and give them a sense of autonomy and agency. They stake their claim with their discovery: "This is our body." They make a secret pact, and the remainder of the movie follows their shared journey to discover who the deceased man was and bond along the way.
While Summering feels like a very family-friendly film–at times, too packaged and kiddie–Ponsoldt still puts forward interesting themes that the kids discuss. They're a few days from entering middle school, but their conversation ranges to talking about death, even the topic of suicide arising (perhaps it speaks to their collective impressive intelligence on the matter, but their inability to truly understand it just yet).
Although it's not destined to become a new classic in the coming of age genre (nor high on my personal list of Ponsoldt's films), Summering may very likely be a movie that gives a new, younger moviegoer and their friends something to connect to and bond over.
87 minutes.
Sundance: 'The Exiles' is an Education of the Tiananmen Square Massacre
"How do I describe myself? Fuck you, how do you describe me?" These are the words of the greatly influential (and highly spirited) documentarian Christine Choy, the central figure of the new documentary, The Exiles.
The Exiles is the winner of this year's Grand Jury Prize in the Documentary section at this year's Sundance Film Festival. It begins as a biography of Christine Choy, the rowdy, rambunctious, and prolific political activist, whose contributions to documentary filmmaking have helped shaped the art form as we know it today.
Don't worry if you haven't heard of her before, as she quickly makes herself known. The Exiles begins as an introduction to and biography of Choy. Loud-mouthed and confrontational, she's a fiery Chinese woman with Tazmanian devil energy. The kind of person who would become a part of the Black Panther Party for resonating with their efforts to progress the rights and cause of marginalized people (she did).
Judging from her slender, skinny frame alone at first, her singular attitude and swagger it's not immediately clear. But once she starts talking–cussing up a storm, with a constantly lit cigarette in one hand and her preferred drink in the other (vodka on the rocks)–it's immediately clear her conviction to be a formidable and passionate activist who inspired filmmakers today.
Directed by first-time feature filmmakers Violet Columbus (Chris Columbus's daughter) and Ben Klein, Columbus and Klein are both Choy's students, and Joker director Todd Phillips–a former student of Choy's–sits for an interview to sing her praise, with Choy bobbing in the background).
It's a fun intro to meet this wild woman, rocking to the beat of her own drum. As we soon learn, among her many contributions to documentary storytelling, we learn her 1989 film Who Killed Vincent Chin? landed her an Academy Award nomination, but didn't win in part because there were no Asian members in the branch at the time.
Columbus and Klein then widen the documentary out to show her connection to the historic and horrifying event in Chinese culture that still affects today. With a mix of humor, shock, heartbreak, The Exiles is an accomplished film that entertains and enlightens.
It's all fascinating and fun to learn of Choy and her story, whose work in political activism got her attention to cover the Chinese student protests, We soon enough learn that one of her unfinished projects was capturing the protests. As history would soon show, this turned into the Tiananmen Square protests. As The Exiles shows, this was not just a protest: the Chinese government turned their military on the students. To this day, there is no account as to how many died (by some accounts, thousands) as bodies were whisked away and cremated immediately.
The Exiles is eventually about Chinese exiles who were ex-communicated from their homeland, and Choy meets the people who she once interviewed years before. They are scattered around the world, the US and France. We see how that historic day forever shaped their lives.
Christine Choy is a staple in documentary work and continues her story today. The fact that this won the Grand Jury Prize should help get more people aware of Choy and the Chinese people.
If You Haven't Seen Any of Asghar Farhadi's Films, Start With 'A Hero'
Where to watch: 'A Hero' is now playing in select theaters and available to stream on Amazon Prime this Friday, January 14th.
I'll admit, I hadn't seen a film by Iranian director Asghar Farhadi before watching his newest film, A Hero.
I guess the only positive thing that I can say to that is, without having seen any of his other movies to date, I was able to watch his newest film with eyes anew (hey, we're all here to continuously discover new films, aren't we?).
Although, it is particularly embarrassing that I (a film critic) am just now seeing my first of Farhad's films, an accomplished director who has won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film twice, for A Separation (2011) and The Salesman (2016). It's a feat shared by only a few directors worldwide.
His newest film, A Hero (which is also Iran's official submission to this year's Academy Awards), has been on a lot of 2021 year-end lists and has received a ton of critical reception to date. Last year, it won the Cannes Film Festival's Grand Prix (the second-most prestigious prize of the festival after the Palme d'Or).
Knowing all of this, and very much wanting to begin my journey into seeing the Oscar-winning director's work, I watched a digital screener of the film at home in advance of the film going up on Prime Video this Friday.
First off, A Hero is a film without an obvious directorial style to it. It's not visually flashy and doesn't use grandiose camerawork in its storytelling. I don't even think there was any score, either. So, it's not exactly a film that rings as "cinematic," in those senses.
However, forgoing style makes its substance resonate so deeply. The people in this story, who are brought to life by a fantastic ensemble cast of actors, make the story feel even more human and real. And for a film that is intent on exploring the human condition, removing these layers of cinema to let the performances and story shine is exactly the right choice.
At 2 hours and 7 minutes, A Hero is about Rahim (Amir Jadidi), a man imprisoned for not being able to pay back a loan, and on temporary leave for two short days. With only a part of the money he needs to pay back his debt, he asks his creditor to withdraw his complaint against the payment of part of the sum. When the creditor denies, Rahim enacts a plan to attempt to settle his debt.
Fabricating a story of goodwill that is picked up by the local media, Rahim instantly turns into an overnight hero in his community. However, just as soon as his fame has risen, cracks in his charitable story start to emerge threatening his reputation, and his plans of freedom.
What makes A Hero such a great film–which it is–is that it's not a movie that lets you easily pass judgment or ascribe labels on people or their motives. Rahim may sound like a calculating, contemptuous figure, but what Farhad adds in his excellently written script is to show that Rahim, in fact, has purer motives underneath.
While he may not be telling the full truth in his story, the larger truth is that Rahim embellishes his story as a means to an end, looking to use his new goodwill to land a job to then pay back the creditor the rest of his money. Farhad's nuanced writing and shrewd observation of such a complex and conflicted character, as well as the larger human condition, forces the audience to consider the entire spectrum of ethics, as well as our own.
So, if you're like me, and have been largely unfamiliar with Asghar Farhadi's films to date, start with A Hero. You'll not only find a wealth of rich, thrilling drama that looks at the human condition but even consider the ethics by which you live your own life too.
2 hours 7 minutes. 'A Hero' is rated PG-13 for some thematic elements and language.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAJ6_lmr_HQ