The Baader Meinhof Complex (2008)*****

The Baader Meinhof Complex brilliantly recreates the radically charged political atmosphere of the 1960s, in a surprisingly straight forward way, without resorting to a lot of gimmicks or nostalgic sentimentality. The film chronicles the rise and fall of the RAF, a West German left wing militant group that achieved legendary status among Europe’s trust fund anarchists, despite bloodily botching nearly every operation they attempted. Martina Gedeck, in yet another great performance, stars as Ulrica Meinhof, a respected journalist who falls under the sway of charismatic radical leader Andreas Baader (Moritz Bleibtreu) and she will pay a heavy price for her dalliance with armed insurrection.

Director Uli Edel attempts an even-handed approach to the storytelling and, while only an eyewitness could vouch for its accuracy, the film feels truthful because neither the entrenched political powers nor the fuzzy cheeked militants are rendered as particularly sympathetic. Edel takes great pains to show us the oppressive Germany of the Kiesinger era, whose intolerance of dissent served as a breeding ground for the decade of violent radicalism that followed. When the famous June 2, 1967 demonstration protesting the Shah of Iran’s visit to Berlin erupts into a riot of bloodlust, no punches are pulled in Edel’s harrowing depiction. The German police apply overwhelming brute force against the young protestors with a chilling relish not seen since the Nazi rallies thirty years before.

This display of government sanctioned brutality, along with growing unrest over Vietnam and a spate of high profile political assassinations, ignite fires of revolution among German youth and a number of militant groups form, with Baader’s RAF emerging as the best organized and most lethal. But Andreas Baader is not painted as a lefty folk hero in this portrait, but rather a thuggish, egotistical hoodlum who just happens have a few deep seated political beliefs. Edel serves up a perfect counterpoint to the June 2nd atrocities when a RAF sponsored protest of a right-wing newspaper becomes an orgy of violent retaliation and the air is filled with firebombs and bullets.


Amid the heat and smoke of urban warfare, the film makes some striking and compelling observations. One is the desperate nature of the everyday life of a radical. Regardless of the ideological purity of one’s motives, once the line of violent insurrection has been crossed there is no difference between a political activist and a homicidal maniac in the eyes of the law. This prompts a spiral of continuing lawlessness, as radicals must live in the shadows and resort to the practices of a criminal enterprise simply to survive. Director Udel also subtly hints that the large scale acts of terror employed by today’s Islamic militants are logical extensions and embellishments of techniques originally used in the West; in some cases learned first hand from disgruntled 1960s European youth.

The film’s final act, in which Meinhof, Baader and company come face to face with their mortal enemy - the state political establishment – sheds a revealing light into the emotional states of the former militants. Meanwhile, the RAF is taken over by a new generation of ideologues, whose acts of wholesale violence are so destructive even Andreas Baader is appalled. But there is one more act of sedition to be performed, and through it the principals manage a symbolic, but quite hollow, victory over the system.

The Baader-Meinhof Complex unspools much like a typical true crime film, which is refreshing considering its politically charged subject matter. Neither side is glorified or vilified. And in this case, the slow grinding wheels of justice actually work in favor of the prosecution, as the passage of time renders the justifications of political terror a distant memory and the perpetrators become cartoony figures, as out of fashion as bell bottoms and love beads. The Seventies would soon be over, and conservative governments would rise to power throughout Europe and the US aided, at least in part, by voters’ ultimate rejection of the brave new world of radical political action.

The revolutionaries depicted here not only failed to achieve their vague, unfocused aims, but failed miserably. And Ulrica Meinhof remains the central tragic figure; a talented journalist who forgot the adage that the pen is mightier than the sword.

IMDb

Add to Queue

The Baader Meinhof Complex (2008)*****

The Baader Meinhof Complex brilliantly recreates the radically charged political atmosphere of the 1960s, in a surprisingly straight forward way, without resorting to a lot of gimmicks or nostalgic sentimentality. The film chronicles the rise and fall of the RAF, a West German left wing militant group that achieved legendary status among Europe’s trust fund anarchists, despite bloodily botching nearly every operation they attempted. Martina Gedeck, in yet another great performance, stars as Ulrica Meinhof, a respected journalist who falls under the sway of charismatic radical leader Andreas Baader (Moritz Bleibtreu) and she will pay a heavy price for her dalliance with armed insurrection.

Director Uli Edel attempts an even-handed approach to the storytelling and, while only an eyewitness could vouch for its accuracy, the film feels truthful because neither the entrenched political powers nor the fuzzy cheeked militants are rendered as particularly sympathetic. Edel takes great pains to show us the oppressive Germany of the Kiesinger era, whose intolerance of dissent served as a breeding ground for the decade of violent radicalism that followed. When the famous June 2, 1967 demonstration protesting the Shah of Iran’s visit to Berlin erupts into a riot of bloodlust, no punches are pulled in Edel’s harrowing depiction. The German police apply overwhelming brute force against the young protestors with a chilling relish not seen since the Nazi rallies thirty years before.

This display of government sanctioned brutality, along with growing unrest over Vietnam and a spate of high profile political assassinations, ignite fires of revolution among German youth and a number of militant groups form, with Baader’s RAF emerging as the best organized and most lethal. But Andreas Baader is not painted as a lefty folk hero in this portrait, but rather a thuggish, egotistical hoodlum who just happens have a few deep seated political beliefs. Edel serves up a perfect counterpoint to the June 2nd atrocities when a RAF sponsored protest of a right-wing newspaper becomes an orgy of violent retaliation and the air is filled with firebombs and bullets.


Amid the heat and smoke of urban warfare, the film makes some striking and compelling observations. One is the desperate nature of the everyday life of a radical. Regardless of the ideological purity of one’s motives, once the line of violent insurrection has been crossed there is no difference between a political activist and a homicidal maniac in the eyes of the law. This prompts a spiral of continuing lawlessness, as radicals must live in the shadows and resort to the practices of a criminal enterprise simply to survive. Director Udel also subtly hints that the large scale acts of terror employed by today’s Islamic militants are logical extensions and embellishments of techniques originally used in the West; in some cases learned first hand from disgruntled 1960s European youth.

The film’s final act, in which Meinhof, Baader and company come face to face with their mortal enemy - the state political establishment – sheds a revealing light into the emotional states of the former militants. Meanwhile, the RAF is taken over by a new generation of ideologues, whose acts of wholesale violence are so destructive even Andreas Baader is appalled. But there is one more act of sedition to be performed, and through it the principals manage a symbolic, but quite hollow, victory over the system.

The Baader-Meinhof Complex unspools much like a typical true crime film, which is refreshing considering its politically charged subject matter. Neither side is glorified or vilified. And in this case, the slow grinding wheels of justice actually work in favor of the prosecution, as the passage of time renders the justifications of political terror a distant memory and the perpetrators become cartoony figures, as out of fashion as bell bottoms and love beads. The Seventies would soon be over, and conservative governments would rise to power throughout Europe and the US aided, at least in part, by voters’ ultimate rejection of the brave new world of radical political action.

The revolutionaries depicted here not only failed to achieve their vague, unfocused aims, but failed miserably. And Ulrica Meinhof remains the central tragic figure; a talented journalist who forgot the adage that the pen is mightier than the sword.

IMDb

Add to Queue

Come Undone (2010)**

This film is about adultery, Italian style, and before all is said and done – or undone in this case- there are quite a few loud and histrionic displays. Actually, for about the first hour, Come Undone is an intelligent and absorbing domestic drama, filmed in an involving verite style, but the later reels devolve into narrative implausibility and the main characters into annoying selfish whining, and you just want reach through the screen and slap them.

Here we meet Anna (Alba Rohrwacher) and her burly teddy bear of a husband Alesso (Giuseppe Battiston), as they go about their everyday lives in bustling Milan. They rush a pregnant friend to the delivery room, go shopping at big box stores, suffer through family dinners with pushy in-laws and generally live in such an unremarkable manner the film could just as easily be set in Tokyo or Pittsburgh. There’s an appealing, energetic pulse to these expository scenes, and director Silvio Soldini captures many of the details of the young couple’s lives in ways that feel exactly right, and allows the audience to completely lose themselves in the proceedings.

At an office party, Anna meets a waiter named Domenico (Pierfrancesco Favino) and a bit of tipsy flirting ensues, that at first seems harmless and not at all out of character for the vivacious Anna. But eventually lines are crossed, secret arrangements are made, and before long the pair is meeting in a garishly sleazy motel room, where they lunge and grapple like jungle beasts in heat. This is how people have sex in the movies these days - like violently falling off a cliff – and it’s difficult to imagine it being very pleasurable for either party.

The narrative focus then shifts to Domenico and a shorthand dispersal of his backstory, in which we learn that he is the head of a financially struggling household, complete with squalling little kids and an overwhelmed and exhausted wife (Teresa Saponangelo). This change in point-of-view is quite abrupt – jarring actually – and is the first sign that Soldini is venturing onto a rocky narrative path. It’s no doubt important to the story arc for the audience to become more intimately acquainted with Domenico, but this sensitive transition screams to be handled with more finesse.

But this bit of awkwardness is minor compared to the plot holes that lie ahead, as the furtive couple discover their own compatibility issues and clashing expectations. They viciously break-up and passionately reunite so many times it’s easy to become disgusted, and really quite bored, with the lot of them. Their spouses aren’t exactly fountains of strength and wisdom either, as they seem easily fooled and all too conciliatory when the script hits the fan in the final act.

The film’s ludicrous conclusion, which involves a dirty weekend in Tunisia, actually feels like it belongs in a completely different film, or else some sort of demented dream sequence. But alas no; it’s intended to be real and audiences are supposed to buy it. However, the credibility damage is minimal as most audiences will have stopped caring long ago. It’s so disappointing because Come Undone begins brilliantly, and Soldini (who shares a writing credit with two others) can tell an engaging story firmly grounded in realism. But all the available light and handheld cameras in the world can’t make this preposterous tale ring true.


IMDb

Add to Queue

Come Undone (2010)**

This film is about adultery, Italian style, and before all is said and done – or undone in this case- there are quite a few loud and histrionic displays. Actually, for about the first hour, Come Undone is an intelligent and absorbing domestic drama, filmed in an involving verite style, but the later reels devolve into narrative implausibility and the main characters into annoying selfish whining, and you just want reach through the screen and slap them.

Here we meet Anna (Alba Rohrwacher) and her burly teddy bear of a husband Alesso (Giuseppe Battiston), as they go about their everyday lives in bustling Milan. They rush a pregnant friend to the delivery room, go shopping at big box stores, suffer through family dinners with pushy in-laws and generally live in such an unremarkable manner the film could just as easily be set in Tokyo or Pittsburgh. There’s an appealing, energetic pulse to these expository scenes, and director Silvio Soldini captures many of the details of the young couple’s lives in ways that feel exactly right, and allows the audience to completely lose themselves in the proceedings.

At an office party, Anna meets a waiter named Domenico (Pierfrancesco Favino) and a bit of tipsy flirting ensues, that at first seems harmless and not at all out of character for the vivacious Anna. But eventually lines are crossed, secret arrangements are made, and before long the pair is meeting in a garishly sleazy motel room, where they lunge and grapple like jungle beasts in heat. This is how people have sex in the movies these days - like violently falling off a cliff – and it’s difficult to imagine it being very pleasurable for either party.

The narrative focus then shifts to Domenico and a shorthand dispersal of his backstory, in which we learn that he is the head of a financially struggling household, complete with squalling little kids and an overwhelmed and exhausted wife (Teresa Saponangelo). This change in point-of-view is quite abrupt – jarring actually – and is the first sign that Soldini is venturing onto a rocky narrative path. It’s no doubt important to the story arc for the audience to become more intimately acquainted with Domenico, but this sensitive transition screams to be handled with more finesse.

But this bit of awkwardness is minor compared to the plot holes that lie ahead, as the furtive couple discover their own compatibility issues and clashing expectations. They viciously break-up and passionately reunite so many times it’s easy to become disgusted, and really quite bored, with the lot of them. Their spouses aren’t exactly fountains of strength and wisdom either, as they seem easily fooled and all too conciliatory when the script hits the fan in the final act.

The film’s ludicrous conclusion, which involves a dirty weekend in Tunisia, actually feels like it belongs in a completely different film, or else some sort of demented dream sequence. But alas no; it’s intended to be real and audiences are supposed to buy it. However, the credibility damage is minimal as most audiences will have stopped caring long ago. It’s so disappointing because Come Undone begins brilliantly, and Soldini (who shares a writing credit with two others) can tell an engaging story firmly grounded in realism. But all the available light and handheld cameras in the world can’t make this preposterous tale ring true.


IMDb

Add to Queue

Bride Flight (2008)****

Bride Flight is a great big honking crowd pleaser of a film; full of adventure, romance, exotic locales, dark secrets and even a smattering of hot sex. Set in 1953, the story focuses on four lucky – if you consider having your wits scared out of you lucky – winners of free passage aboard a KLM turboprop bound from Holland to New Zealand.

The flight is a bit of a publicity stunt – KLM is competing with several other airlines to set a new airspeed record for the London to Christchurch route – and such is the pilot’s obsession with victory that no variation is allowed in the flight path; bone-rattling turbulence and violent thunderstorms be damned.

On board we meet three young women, all of them engaged and on their way to be reunited with their future husbands; the men having gone ahead to New Zealand months ago to find employment and lodging. Also on the manifest is a strapping young hunk named Frank (Waldemar Torenstra) who plans to grow grapes and eventually preside over a famous winery.

Fate takes a hand when Frank is seated next to Ada (Karina Smulders), a sheltered innocent whose marriage to a strict, humorless Calvinist (Micha Hulsof) has been virtually pre-arranged by her parents. Frank arouses passions in the sensual young Ada she has never felt before, and with the speeding plane frequently tossing the passengers about like rag dolls, there’s plenty of opportunity for physical contact. We also meet Esther (Anna Drijer), a woman much more interested in a career than family life, who happens to appreciate Frank’s charms as well, and Marjorie (Elise Schaap), who dreams of a large family, but will find the creation of that family a dangerous struggle.

The quartet eventually split up to pursue their own destinies in the rocky wilds of New Zealand, and the pioneer lifestyle provides plenty of hardships and humorous surprises for the young women. But Ada, despite doing her best to comply with every whim of her stern new husband, can never forget the dashing young man she left on the tarmac at Christchurch. Meanwhile Esther - who has given up on the notion of married life ever working for her - gets reacquainted with Frank on a moonlit night. And the results will profoundly change the lives of all the protagonists.

The paths of the women intersect numerous times over the next few decades, and it is this multi-generational storyline that gives Bride Flight such wide audience appeal. To viewers of a certain age, there is the clear draw of nostalgia as director Ben Sombogaart and his team have paid fanatical attention to detail. The art direction and set dressing give us a palpable and poignant sense of life for these European expats. They have traveled to the other side of the world and are desperately trying to put their stamp on this exotic land via sentimental bric-a-brac and lacey ephemeral reminders of life in Holland. Through the course of film the characters will encounter many new landscapes, but the most challenging ones prove to be the craggy recesses of their own lives.

The filmmaking is exceedingly competent and, at times, even inspired, without ever becoming flashy or distracting. The film is in essence a small scale story of quiet desperation, elevated to an epic level by the stoic bravery and common human folly of the characters. We cheer for their successes, and despair when the expectations and morality of 1950s society conspire against them. Talented Karina Smulders is simply riveting as Ada, whose character stands as a poster child for the perils women faced when they were routinely treated as second class citizens.

Ultimately, a funeral draws the principals together in the present day, and they wear their silver hair and creased faces as badges of honor for all they’ve endured. A cynic could certainly make a case that the film is simply an overplotted bit of melodrama - a bodice ripper with a side order of fresh kiwis. But thanks to Sombogaart’s masterful, restrained storytelling and pitch-perfect performances from the leads, Bride Flight slowly weaves its irresistible web. A web that snares audiences, who can only sit and revel in its splendor.

IMDb

Add to Queue

Bride Flight (2008)****

Bride Flight is a great big honking crowd pleaser of a film; full of adventure, romance, exotic locales, dark secrets and even a smattering of hot sex. Set in 1953, the story focuses on four lucky – if you consider having your wits scared out of you lucky – winners of free passage aboard a KLM turboprop bound from Holland to New Zealand.

The flight is a bit of a publicity stunt – KLM is competing with several other airlines to set a new airspeed record for the London to Christchurch route – and such is the pilot’s obsession with victory that no variation is allowed in the flight path; bone-rattling turbulence and violent thunderstorms be damned.

On board we meet three young women, all of them engaged and on their way to be reunited with their future husbands; the men having gone ahead to New Zealand months ago to find employment and lodging. Also on the manifest is a strapping young hunk named Frank (Waldemar Torenstra) who plans to grow grapes and eventually preside over a famous winery.

Fate takes a hand when Frank is seated next to Ada (Karina Smulders), a sheltered innocent whose marriage to a strict, humorless Calvinist (Micha Hulsof) has been virtually pre-arranged by her parents. Frank arouses passions in the sensual young Ada she has never felt before, and with the speeding plane frequently tossing the passengers about like rag dolls, there’s plenty of opportunity for physical contact. We also meet Esther (Anna Drijer), a woman much more interested in a career than family life, who happens to appreciate Frank’s charms as well, and Marjorie (Elise Schaap), who dreams of a large family, but will find the creation of that family a dangerous struggle.

The quartet eventually split up to pursue their own destinies in the rocky wilds of New Zealand, and the pioneer lifestyle provides plenty of hardships and humorous surprises for the young women. But Ada, despite doing her best to comply with every whim of her stern new husband, can never forget the dashing young man she left on the tarmac at Christchurch. Meanwhile Esther - who has given up on the notion of married life ever working for her - gets reacquainted with Frank on a moonlit night. And the results will profoundly change the lives of all the protagonists.

The paths of the women intersect numerous times over the next few decades, and it is this multi-generational storyline that gives Bride Flight such wide audience appeal. To viewers of a certain age, there is the clear draw of nostalgia as director Ben Sombogaart and his team have paid fanatical attention to detail. The art direction and set dressing give us a palpable and poignant sense of life for these European expats. They have traveled to the other side of the world and are desperately trying to put their stamp on this exotic land via sentimental bric-a-brac and lacey ephemeral reminders of life in Holland. Through the course of film the characters will encounter many new landscapes, but the most challenging ones prove to be the craggy recesses of their own lives.

The filmmaking is exceedingly competent and, at times, even inspired, without ever becoming flashy or distracting. The film is in essence a small scale story of quiet desperation, elevated to an epic level by the stoic bravery and common human folly of the characters. We cheer for their successes, and despair when the expectations and morality of 1950s society conspire against them. Talented Karina Smulders is simply riveting as Ada, whose character stands as a poster child for the perils women faced when they were routinely treated as second class citizens.

Ultimately, a funeral draws the principals together in the present day, and they wear their silver hair and creased faces as badges of honor for all they’ve endured. A cynic could certainly make a case that the film is simply an overplotted bit of melodrama - a bodice ripper with a side order of fresh kiwis. But thanks to Sombogaart’s masterful, restrained storytelling and pitch-perfect performances from the leads, Bride Flight slowly weaves its irresistible web. A web that snares audiences, who can only sit and revel in its splendor.

IMDb

Add to Queue

Hidden Diary (2009)*****

The subtle intricacies of mother/daughter relationships are explored through the unveiling of family secrets in this delicate, brooding and thoroughly excellent film. When Audrey (Marina Hands), a 30-ish industrial designer, returns to her family’s home on France’s southwest coast for a brief impromptu visit, she creates a tense atmosphere as her parents (Catherine Deneuve and Michel Duchaussoy) are so absorbed with their own lives they have little time for her.

One morning, Audrey walks along the beach to the abandoned home of her long dead grandfather, and decides to encamp there for the remainder of her visit. Behind an old, mildewed cupboard Audrey finds a diary left by her grandmother, who walked out on her husband and children fifty years ago. Her name has been vilified by the family ever since, while the grandfather is remembered as virtually a saint for the many hardships he endured while raising Deneuve and her brother (Jean-Philippe Ecoffey) as a single parent.

As Audrey leafs through the yellowed and fragile pages she slowly discovers that her family’s version of events does not square perfectly with the facts, and that her emotionally distant mother has built her life as an aggrieved victim on a convenient, but false, narrative. Meanwhile, Audrey harbors a secret of her own; a secret that has driven her back to the town of her birth for reasons she doesn’t fully understand. But by carefully piecing together a true account of family history, Audrey seeks the strength and wisdom to cope with her own painful dilemma.

The film’s European title, Mères et filles (Mothers and Daughters) is a more accurate reflection of the central thesis. Hands and Deneuve share so much unresolved baggage they circle each other like jungle cats waiting to pounce. While their interactions are perfectly pleasant on the surface, the air between them is laced with unspoken tension and resentment, like the scent of ozone after a storm. Deneuve’s character has always  blamed others for her personal deficits, usually with the full encouragement of her weak and enabling husband, and her eyes register many years of real and imagined slights. But now she realizes that her daughter’s research into the diary is about to wipe away one of the emotional crutches that have supported her through life, and Deneuve responds with an extra measure of defensiveness.

In contrast to the emotional complexity of the story, Julie Lopes-Curval directs with a physical simplicity that makes the film starkly believable, but never larger than life. The diary segments are enacted as flashbacks, and while this would seem to be an awkward and trite construction, Lopes-Curval so cleverly and seamlessly integrates it into the main storyline that the film’s tone and pacing never suffers. And while Hidden Diary features few characters, the director is able to broaden the narrative palette by creating a sense of intimacy with the physical surroundings. That intimacy is at times almost too much to bear, as the creaky old houses, the relentless pounding surf and even tiny grains of beach sand are rendered as mute witnesses finally ready to spill their long held secrets.

IMDb

No Page on Netflix