THEATRE REVIEW: ‘Million Dollar Quartet’

Ben Goddard, Robert Britton Lyons, Derek Hagen, Michael Malarkey as the ‘MIllion Dollar Quartet’, Gez Gerrard on bass

By Ray Bennett

LONDON – “Million Dollar Quartet” is a straightforward jukebox musical but since the music comes from Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis at Sun Records in the 1950s, it’s not your average jukebox.

Like “Sunday in the Park with George”, the stage show is based on a single image and like the Stephen Sondheim classic, it attempts to flesh out how the picture came about. That’s where the comparison ends as it’s not so much a musical as a concert.

In this case, it’s the famous photo of the four singers at a piano in Sam Phillips’ Memphis recording studio and the book by Colin Escott and Floyd Mutrux reveals something about what was going on in those heady days of rock ’n’ roll in its infancy, but not a whole lot.

There is, however, a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on as 23 numbers from that time are given full measure by director Eric Schaeffer, who has brought his creative team from Broadway. The show is as slick as Elvis’ hair.

American Robert Britton Lyons, who originated the role of Carl Perkins on Broadway and has appeared in every production since, joins an otherwise British cast. He has more of the strut and presence of an early rock star than the others although Derek Hagen as Cash, Ben Goddard as Lewis, and Michael Malarkey are all terrific performers.

Malarkey more resembles Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash in the movie “Walk the Line” than Elvis. He’s a little too compact for the legendary performer although he does catch Presley’s sneer in the right light and his baritone is strong if not an echo of the original in numbers such as “That’s All Right, Mama,” “Peace In the Valley” and “Hound Dog.”

Hagen looks less like Cash than John C. Reilly playing Dewey Cox but he has Cash’s way with a rhythm guitar and his rich, deep voice is a match for the man in black on songs including “Sixteen Tons,” “I Walk the Line” and “Riders In the Sky.”

Goddard is a little chunky for the skinny Lewis but he has his blond locks and powerful vocal delivery. He probably is a more versatile pianist than Lewis but he pounds out “Real Wild Child,” “Great Balls of Fire” and “Whole Lotta Shakin’” with tremendous verve.

It’s Lyons, however, who parades the real stuff of rockabilly. Like Perkins, he’s lean with slicked back hair and he has a mean way with a lead guitar. He conveys the bitterness that Perkins had over Presley winning all the glory for his song “Blue Suede Shoes,” which he performs to kick off the show, but also has the charm of a man whose compositions such as “Matchbox” and “Honey Don’t” became staples for later rock bands. The latter was not in the earlier productions but has been added to the West End show. The program makes a point of thanking Paul McCartney, who now owns the song.

Francesa Jackson joins the boys at the piano

Francesca Jackson is a welcome feminine presence as a girlfriend of Elvis and she demonstrates genuine flare on “Fever” and “I Hear You Knocking.” Gez Gerrard on double bass and Adam Riley on drums remain onstage the whole time and give the music the correct propulsion.

Lewis and Perkins trade insults throughout the show, which makes a break for Bill Ward as Sam Phillips, who tells what story there is of the four artists and Sun Records before they went on to fame and riches and he just got fabulously wealthy from radio stations and Holiday Inn stock.

The evening ends with the boys in gleaming jackets as the audience rises irresistibly to the beat of some mightily impressive and infectious rockabilly.

Venue: Noel Cowerd Theatre, London (running through Oct. 27); Cast: Robert Britton Lyons, Derek Hagen, Ben Goddard, Michael Malarkey, Bill Ward, Francesca Jackson; Book, Original concept and direction: Floyd Mutrux; Book: Colin Escott; Director: Eric Schaeffer; Musical arrangements and supervision: Chuck Mead; Set designer: Derek McLane; Costume designer: Jane Greenwood; Lighting designer: Howell Binkley; Sound designer: Kai Harada

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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THEATRE REVIEW: Danny Boyle directs ‘Frankenstein’

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By Ray Bennett

LONDON – Fans of Danny Boyle’s movies such as “Slumdog Millionaire” and “127 Hours” will not be surprised to learn that his return to the stage directing a new play at the National Theatre based on Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein” is a breathtaking mix of intimate drama and spectacular imagery.

Benedict Cumberbatch (pictured as the doctor), from BBC-TV’s new “Sherlock” series, and Jonny Lee Miller (“Eli Stone”) star on alternate nights as Victor Frankenstein and the Creature in a play by Nick Dear that grabs attention in the first minute and never lets go.

Cumberbatch has the edge in both roles due to his ability to convey by expression and voice a degree of madness that is just beyond Lee Miller. Cumberbatch nails Frankenstein’s air of innate superiority and he makes heartbreaking the Creature’s aching search for wisdom and compassion. Both performances are well worth seeing in a two-hour show that has shocks and surprises, some considerable horror and moments of great tenderness.

The play will be streamed to movie theaters across the U.K. on March 17 and 24 and also will be available in other countries including the United States and Canada, although dates might vary. Boyle, who attended First Night, told me he is not involved in the screen version, which is handled by the National Theatre.

The stage presentation has such invention and vitality that it should make a terrific impression on screen and the performances of the two leading actors are so precise and involving that they should only be enhanced by close-ups.

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The National’s vast Olivier stage is overhung by two large rectangular panels from which hang myriad lights that strike like lightning at the moments when the creature emerges from what he comes to think of as a cesspool of broken bones. For this Creature is a sentient individual who can assimilate information rapidly and the tale is really one of innocence corrupted.

At the beginning, a tall and wide circle of pulsing fabric strapped to a wooden rack becomes womb-like as it parts to reveal a man-sized newborn who falls to the ground and flaps like some nameless thing that Darwin might have discovered.

For more than 10 minutes, the fully naked creature struggles to stretch and stand; to gain motor control of limbs and how to walk and run. Exultant in his discoveries, he embraces the warming sun and cooling rain, and the simple pleasures of grass and soaring birds.

But soon his creator abandons him and strangers greet him with horror and beatings. Wandering, he discovers an old man, De Lacey (Karl Johnson), who is blind and generous, and who fills his hungry mind with literature, philosophy and general knowledge. That again ends badly, and the lonely creature goes off to seek his creator to ask him to make him a female partner. Frankenstein is a self-important scientist who believes himself a genius and is so obsessed with being the first man to create another that he ignores his lovely bride-to-be, Elizabeth (Naomie Harris), who only wants to give him babies.

When the Creature finds him, Frankenstein agrees to travel to a remote Scottish island where he will make a perfect being, but as his genius flows so does his fear, and soon the two are locked into a fate that will entwine them forever.

Set designer Mark Tildesley uses simple tracks of wood and grass for scenes in the open, brings up whole rooms and buildings from the basement of the rotating stage and others descend from the rafters.

Boyle early on introduces a raging contraption like a full-scale locomotive with huge wheels spitting flames and sparks to suggest the industrial turmoil that is the backdrop to the story. It leaves a bitter taste in the air that underpins the tragedy of a creator who has lost his way and a Creature unsure of why he is here and what he is supposed to do but directed by a man who knows exactly what he’s up to.

Venue: National Theatre, runs through May 2; Cast: Benedict Cumberbatch, Jonny Lee Miller, Naomie Harris, Karl Jognson; Playwright: Nick Dear, based on the novel by Mary Shelley; Director: Danny Boyle; Set designer: Mark Tildesley; Costume designer: Suttirat Anne Larlarb; Lighting designer: Bruno Poet; Music and sound score: Underworld.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter. Photos by Catherine Ashmore.

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BERLIN FILM REVIEW: Julie Gavras’s ‘Late Bloomers’

late bloomers x650By Ray Bennett

BERLIN – William Hurt and Isabella Rossellini (pictured) play a couple whose long marriage runs into the bumps caused by intimations of mortality in Julie Gavras’s lightweight “Late Bloomers” but while it’s pleasant to watch these two professionals at work, there are no dramatic fireworks.

A snapshot of two people who must learn to face the realities of aging, it offers no surprises or particular insights and will probably settle more comfortably into TV and DVD release.

Hurt plays Adam, a top architect whose major achievements have been in designing airports but who is tempted now to tackle the design of a new museum in London’s disused Battersea Power Station. One of the spurs towards this is that among the young designers at his firm who are keen on the challenge is an attractive and flirtatious young woman named Maya (Arta Dobroshi).

Adam’s wife Mary (Rossellini), meanwhile, is alarmed by a couple of moments of forgetfulness and finds that little things she does to make life a little easier on aging limbs and eyes only annoy Adam. He starts working late at the office while she joins an exercise club at a swimming pool run by a handsome man named Peter (Hugo Speer).

Soon, Adam starts sleeping at the office and the pair’s three grown children start plotting ways to keep them together. The situation is further complicated by money problems at the firm with a client (Simon Callow) who demands designs for hospices rather than a museum.

There’s sick grandmother and assorted little ones, and the conversations cover predictable ground about families, generations and mid-life crises. Callow relishes some bright lines about how a hospice is much like a transportation terminal – somewhere people go on the way to somewhere else.

Joanna Lumley also shines as Mary’s breezy best friend, a do-gooder who confesses that she wishes she’d put more energy into a marriage than into her charitable work.

The film is shot like a TV movie with plenty of light and bright colors. Hurt mixes charm with Adam’s fear of waning talent and vigor while Rossellini plays against her beauty as a woman who finds she needs reassurance about her appeal. They are genial company, but will hardly be remembered by tomorrow.

Venue: Berlin International Film Festival, Berlinale Special; Cast: William Hurt, Isabella Rossellini, Joanna Lumley, Simon Callow; Director, screenwriter: Julie Gavras; Screenwriter: Oliver Dazat; Director photography: Natalie Durand; Production designer: Eve Stewart; Music: Sodi Marciszewer; Costume designer: Marianne Agertoft; Editor: Pierre Haberer; Producers: Sylvie Pielat, Bertrand Faivre; Production: Les Films du Worso; Sales: Gaumont; Not rated; running time, 95 minutes.

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BERLIN FILM REVIEW: Jonathan Sagall’s ‘Lipstikka’

Moran Rosenblatt and Ziv Weiner in Jonathan Sagall’s ‘Lipstikka’

By Ray Bennett

BERLIN – Canadian director Jonathan Sagall’s intriguing drama “Lipstikka” tells of two women whose memory of a dramatic incident when they were teenagers is markedly different and affects their lives in complicated ways.

Set in London with flashbacks to 1994, the film tells of two Palestinian women and their encounter as teenagers with two Israeli solders during the intifada. More of a human drama than a political one, it still hinges on the fact that in the circumstances the girls had no control over their fate.

The nature of their relationship at the time and the way their lives have turned out since give Sagall’s four actresses plenty to work with and the film should thrive at festivals and find appreciative audiences, especially among women, in key territories.

Clara Khoury plays Lara, who explains in a voice-over that she has accepted her life, which is one of suburban London comfort with a spotless home, a smart son, and a businessman husband named Michael (Daniel Caltagirone) who hasn’t slept with her since the boy was born. She keeps herself in good shape, however, with just a little vodka to soften the world.

A knock at the door one day brings a face from her past, Inam (Nataly Attiya), a slim beauty who looks little frazzled and has an edgy manner. Flashbacks reveal that Inam had a relationship with Michael before they married, and the two women also shared an intimacy felt more deeply by Lara.

Their relationship is even more complicated due to the incident more than 15 years earlier after the two of them broke curfew to go to see a movie in old Jerusalem. The young Inam (Moran Rosenblatt) was pretty and boy-crazy while young Lara (Ziv Weiner) viewed her friend’s adventures with more jealousy than envy.

Sagall gives over information about the earlier event in pieces. It involved a sexual encounter between Inam and one of the soldiers, but exactly what happened depends on very different points of view. He also reveals only slowly the truth of the women’s lives today. It makes for growing suspense, especially when Inam elects to pick up Lara’s son from school without telling her.

As the grownup Lara, Khoury offers a telling portrayal of a woman whose life did not turn out as she expected but has managed to make the most of it. Elegant and sweet looking, Khoury very subtly unveils the steel that Lara has learned to deploy while Weiner is effective as the young Lara, all watchful and self-contained. Attiya keeps Inam’s nervousness just barely under control and with just a look or change of vocal tone suggests that she could easily fall apart.

Rosenblatt has in many ways the toughest assignment since she must act more or less the same scene in two sharply different ways – as a sexy teenager in control of events, and as a victim of sexual brutality. Hers is the standout performance of the film, first smiling and provocative, and then knowing and sacrificial. Her scenes underpin what develops between the grownup women and help give Sagall’s film a satisfying resonance.

Venue: Berlin International Film Festival; Cast: Clara Khoury, Nataly Attiya, Moran Rosenblatt, Ziv Weiner; Director, screenwriter, producer: Jonathan Sagall; Directors of photography: Xiaxosu Han, Andreas Thalhammer; Production designers: Myles Grimsdale, Ofer Shara; Music: Jody Jenkins; Editor: Yuval Netter; Producer: Guy Allon; Production: Obelis Productions, John Reiss & Assoc., Monumental Productions; Sales: Obelis Productions;  Not rated; running time, 90 minutes

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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BERLIN FILM REVIEW: ‘The Terrorists’

By Ray Bennett

BERLIN – Thunska Pansittivorakul’s documentary “The Terrorists” is a message picture about the way the government in Thailand persecutes and exploits minorities. Oh, here’s one now, a pretty young man who happens to be naked, soaping himself in the shower.

The film commences with titles that excoriate and curse the Thai government for serious abuses and proceeds without narration to scenes accompanied by poetry or political invective. Many of them involve young men in the nude bathing or sleeping.

the terrorists x325It appears aimed at a gay audience that would need to be remarkably tolerant of inept camerawork and unexplained sequences, and be prepared to listen to lectures about an oppressive society. The title of the film is intended to be ironic but if the filmmakers wish to have their opinions considered widely, this does not seem to be the best way to go about it.

The film begins with a group of languid young men in shorts on a fishing boat at night; then a bound and blindfolded young man is stripped, and masturbated by male toes and fingers; young men in shorts load sheets of rubber onto a flatbed truck; a young man sleeps naked in various stages of arousal; and another young man is heard complaining about his father while he bathes nude in a mountain stream.

One unexplained sequence shows some kind of unrest on an urban street with police in riot gear with guns and tear gas, and cowering locals, and another shows a young man tapping trees for sap at night. It’s very dark so it’s not clear if he’s naked.

Venue: Berlin International Film Festival, Forum; Director: Thunkska Pansittivorakul; Producer: Jurgen Bruning; Director of photography: Thunska Samart Vorakorn; Sales: Jurgen Bruning Filmproduktion; Not rated; running time, 103 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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BERLIN FILM REVIEW: Paula Markowitch’s ‘The Prize’

the prize x650By Ray Bennett

BERLIN – The cold, bleak seashore of Argentina in winter matches the powerfully lurking threat of fascism in Paula Markowitch’s autobiographical Competition film “The Prize” about a young mother and her infant daughter in hiding from nameless dread.

Slow-paced and somber, the film boasts remarkable performances by first-time actress Paula Galinelli Hertzog as Cecilia, a freckle-faced 7-year-old, and Laura Agorreca as her mother Lucia, who tries to keep her safe as she waits to hear from the girl’s father, who has disappeared and is feared dead.

The film eschews the polemics of many films about a society overtaken by those who would tell people how to live and what to think and so it is unlikely to make a commercial mark. It’s a warm reminder, however, of how vulnerable and short-lived childhood innocence can be and it should gain considerable festival attention.

The long opening sequence sets the tone for the rest of the picture: A little girl in a winter coat on a wide stretch of isolated beach attempts to roller-skate in the sand much as a free spirit attempts to fly in a fascist state and with similar results. In another sadly apt scene, the girl dances from bed to chair to table as her mother attempts furiously to sweep out water that floods in beneath the front door.

“What is a pessimist?” Cecilia asks her mother after she glimpses a telegram that contains precious little information about her missing Dad. Markowitch discloses information very slowly as the mother and child go about trying to survive by the ocean in a rundown cabin that lets in the fierce winds and torrential rain.

An urchin with lively eyes that can narrow in suspicion or widen with an open smile, the girl is keen to go to school and so joins a local class with firm instructions to reveal nothing about her home life. She takes it to extremes, and when other pupils ask questions, she always replies, “My father sells curtains; my mother is a housekeeper”.

She makes friends with another little girl, Silvia (Sharon Herrera), and the two play games in the sand with a dog she calls Jim and a local boy named Walter (Uriel Lasillo). She shines in class but makes the mistake of helping Walter with a test that their teacher knows he couldn’t possibly have passed without help.

The teacher, Rosita (Viviana Suraneti) punishes the entire class until Silvia names Cecilia as the one who helped Walter cheat, and she makes her stand out in the cold as further punishment. The next day, Rosita praises both girls. She tells them it is patriotic to inform when someone does something wrong so that next time that person will do right.

The teacher’s sense of how to get along in a state-controlled society is tested when the class has to write essays in praise of the army but Cecilia writes things such as “the army is bad”, “soldiers are crazy”, “they killed my cousin”. Lucia is mortified when Cecilia shows her a copy and she knows she must try to get the essay back before the army sees it.

The tension in the film grows menacing very slowly enhanced by cinematographer Wojciech Staron’s washed-out images of the child by the sea as waves and sand change constantly. Hertzog’s freshness and Suraniti’s naturalistic acting combine to make the pair thoroughly credible, and Markovitch draws equally fine performances from the rest of the cast.

Venue: Berlin International Film Festival, In Competition; Cast: Paula Galinelli Hertzog, Sharon Herrera, Laura Agorreca, Viviana Suraniti, Uriel Lasillo; Director, screenwriter: Paula Markovitch; Director of photography: Wojciech Staron; Production designer: Barbara Enriquez; Music: Sergio Gurrola; Editor: Lorena Moriconi; Producer: Izrael Moreno Production: Kung Works, Chiapas 31, Col. u Mex Roma, Alex Cuantémoc; Sales: Umedia; Not rated; running time, 123 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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BERLIN FILM REVIEW: Michal Aviad’s ‘Invisible’

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By Ray Bennett

BERLIN – Two women linked only because they were victims of rape by the same man 20 years earlier meet by chance and reveal how the trauma continues to affect their lives in Israeli filmmaker Michal Aviad’s well-intended but unremarkable drama “Invisible.”

The film makes the point that 1-in-5 women around the world will suffer rape or attempted rape in her lifetime. The two women, played with typical assurance by celebrated actresses Evgenia Dodina and Ronit Elkabetz (picture), exemplify the damage done by sexual assault but the director’s even-handed approach robs the story of any power.

Instructive for those unaware of the shameful statistics and ramifications of rape, the film’s lack of dramatic impact limits box office potential.

Lily (Elkabetz) and Nira (Dodina) meet at a Palestinian protest that activist Lily is involved with and film editor Nira’s boss is filming. Recognition sparks Nira’s interest in researching the crimes of a man who was labelled the “polite rapist” by newspapers because of his insistence that victims caress him while being violated.

She goes to see the policemen who worked on the case, collects newspaper clippings and interviews others among the rapist’s 16 known victims. Gradually Lily becomes interested too, and they reveal what has happened to them as wives and mothers in the two decades since.

Their biggest outrage is that the criminal involved spent just 10 years in jail, small punishment for each violation, and while it’s clear they will not act on it, they relish what they would do to the man if they could. It’s too bad the passionate and understandable savagery of their imagined revenge did not infuse the film as a whole.

Venue: Berlin International Film Festival, Panorama; Cast: Ronit Elkabetz, Evgenia Dodina; Director, screenwriter: Michal Aviad; Screenwriter: Tal Omer; Producer: Ronen Ben-Tal; Director of photography: Guy Raz; Production designer: Adi Sagi-Amar; Costume designer: Laura Sheim; Editor: Era Lapid; Production: Plan B Productions; Sales: West End Films; Not rated; running time, 90 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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BERLIN FILM REVIEW: Ulrich Kohler’s ‘Sleeping Sickness’

Alex (Jean-Christophe Folly) fragt sich was Ebbo (Pierre Bokma) und Gaspard (Hippolyte Girardot) vorhaben.By Ray Bennett

BERLIN – Ulrich Kohler’s uneven Competition film “Sleeping Sickness” contrasts the relationship that two doctors – one a white German, the other a black Frenchmen – have with Africa but it lacks a clear point of view.

The story is really about one white man’s fatal attraction for the fabric of life in the rivers and jungles of Cameroon with a surrealistic touch at the end. Much of it is filmed at night, however, and little attempt is made to show why he is so taken with the place. Prospects home and abroad appear slim.

Pierre Bokma plays Dr. Ebbo Veltman, whose long-term program intended to combat sleeping sickness has been so successful that it risks losing the funds that keep it going. His wife Vera (Jenny Schily) is keen to return to Germany and their daughter Helen (Maria Elise Miller) has lost interest in Africa after two years at home in boarding school.

A transition is in the works with another doctor set to move in to his hospital and so Veltman’s wife and daughter return to Germany while the doctor wraps things up.

At this point, the film abruptly skips some years and changes point of view with the introduction in France of young Dr. Alex Nzila (Jean-Christophe Folly), who is despatched by the World Health Organization to Cameroon where Veltman has continued to operate.

Urban, gay and very French, Nzila finds the clinic in disarray and Veltman absent. The epidemic of sleeping sickness appears to have been beaten but Veltman has become more eccentric and conflicted over his love for the place.

He relates a story about a doctor who was killed by a hippopotamus although that animal is rarely seen in the vicinity. He explains that locals were convinced the hospital director had transformed himself into a hippo in order to kill the man because he had been sleeping with his wife. Then he invites Nzila to go out hunting at night.

There is little suspense, though, and only a touch of comedy in the urban doctor’s discomfort in the jungle, which Folly handles well. The film touches on issues that complicate aid to African nations and what happens to funding from non-government organizations, without really addressing either topic.

Bokma looks at home amid the luxuriant undergrowth and he has the air of a man well used to navigating corrupt officials, greedy men in uniform and the reality that native clothes are made in China.

Venue: Berlin International Film Festival, Competition; Cast: Pierre Bokma, Jean-Christophe Folly, Jenny Schilly, Hippolyte Girardot; Director, screenwriter: Ulrich Kohler; Director of photography: Patrick Orth; Production designer: Jochen Dehn; Costume designer: Birgitt Kilian; Editors: Katharina Wartena, Eva Konnemann; Producers: Janine Jackowski, Maren Ade, Katrin Schosser Production: Komplizen Film; Sales: The Match Factory; Not rated; running time, 91 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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BERLIN FILM REVIEW: Michel Ocelot’s ‘Tales of the Night’

tales of the night x650By Ray Bennett

BERLIN – Animation in silhouette makes for fine images and there are some nifty fables in French artist Michel Ocelot’s “Tales of the Night” (Les contes de la nuit) but the design necessarily lacks facial expression and the Dolby 3D makes no impact at all.

The film will be released in 2D as well, and it’s difficult to see what difference that would make, especially for international audiences with subtitles that are essential for the storytelling but serve to diminish the 3D even more.

It’s a pleasing concoction of fairy tales invented by a young couple that involves adventurers, princesses, monsters, friendly beasts, and people who change into animals. The adventures all have a moral to them and children unspoiled by videogames might well find the film enchanting.

It will charm festival juries and it should find an audience if marketed clearly to families with small children, although in 3D it would do better with changes in language to suit each territory.

tales of the night 2 x650The set-up is that a young man and woman meet at a magical little movie house where a technician has a box of tricks that allows them to make up their own fantastical stories. Six yarns follow with the two giving flight to their imagination in romantic adventures in exotic places filled with danger.

One has two sisters who are rivals for a handsome soldier whose secret is that he’s a werewolf. There’s a boy who must risk peril in a series of impossible quests if he’s to win the hand of a princess. A pretty girl faces sacrifice to a city of gold’s ferocious benefactor unless a newcomer can find a way to save her.

A boy trains to master a magic tom-tom drum that makes everyone dance, and a talking horse befriends a boy who can never tell a lie even when his sweetheart’s life is threatened. Finally, a doting young man sees his beloved turned into a doe by a jealous sorcerer and she will stay that way unless he can find the touch that will change her back.

Ocelot’s stories have great charm and there is wonderful invention in the shape and movement of the silhouettes. But each person’s eyes are just white and while they change shape, the rest of each face is featureless black. Only in wide-shot does the filmmaker’s art shine through and that pleases but not does actually provide much of a thrill.

Venue: Berlin International Film Festival, In Competition; Director, screenwriter: Michel Ocelot; Production designers: Anne Lisa Koehler, Christel Boyer, Simon Lacalmontie; Music: Christian Maire; Editor: Patrick Ducruet; Producers: Christophe Rossignon, Philip Boeffard; Not rated; running time, 84 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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BERLIN FILM REVIEW: Bela Tarr’s ‘The Turin Horse’

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By Ray Bennett

BERLIN – Hungarian director Bela Tarr’s somnolent drama “The Turin Horse” tells of an ageing father and his grown daughter who lead lives of relentless tedium in a shabby dwelling on a bleak and windswept plain. Towards the end of the film, they appear to lose the will to live, and they are not alone.

Monotonous and repetitive, the black-and-white production runs 146 very long minutes as the two of them go about their mind-numbing daily routines accompanied by a sonorous musical dirge that is as relentless as the ferocious winds outside.

Fans of Tarr’s sombre and sedate films will know what they are in for and will no doubt find the time well spent. Others might soon grow weary of the measured pace of the characters as every day they dress in their ragged clothes, eat boiled potatoes with their fingers, fetch water, clean their bowls, chop wood and feed the horse, accompanied by Mihaly Vig’s score of deep doleful strings.

The title horse is apparently one mentioned in a brief narration at the start about the time when Friedrich Nietzsche sobbed over a mistreated equine in the Italian city of the title. The animal is prone to stubbornness and shows a reluctance to move, which will have a severe impact upon the man and woman who live in such remote circumstances.

The story, if it can be called that, covers six days in their lives with each one numbered although they are each pretty much the same as the day before. Janos Derzsi, as the rugged old man, has a wonderfully craggy, white-bearded physiognomy that bears up to considerable scrutiny, which is a good thing since he doesn’t say much. But neither does Erika Bok as his long-suffering and industrious daughter.

Along about Day 4, the well goes dry and it seems like a good time to find someplace else to live, but then the storm kicks up even more and it’s back to the old routine.

By this time, cinematographer Fred Kelemen’s mostly stationary camera has revealed about all there is to see in a fine array of textures in such things as the wooden table, the rough floors, the walls of stone, the ropes on the horse, and the skin on the boiled potatoes.

That does not, however, make up for the almost complete lack of information about the two characters, and so it is easy to become indifferent to their fate, whatever it is.

Venue: Berlin International Film Festival; In Competition; Cast: Erika Bok, Janos Derzsi; Director, screenwriter: Bela Tarr; Co-director, editor: Agnes Hranitzky; Screenwriter: Laszlo Krasznahorkai; Producers: Gabor Teni, Marie-Pierre Macia, Juliette Lepoutre, Ruth Waldburger, Martin Hafemann; Director of photography: Fred Kelemen; Music: Mihaly Vig; Costume designer: Janos Breckl; Production: T. T. Filmmuhely, MPM Film, Vega Film, Zero Fiction Film; Sales: Films Boutique. Not rated; runing time, 146 minutes.

This review appeared in The Hollywood Reporter.

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