Turning Tables (Klandestin)

 

Writer/director Angelina Maccarone

TURNING TABLES (Klandestin)                B                                                                      Germany  (124 mi)  2024  d: Angelina Maccarone

Reminiscent of the gripping, multi-layered political thrillers of Alan J. Pakula’s The Parallax View (1974), Michael Haneke’s Caché (Hidden) (2005), Fatih Akin’s 2017 Top Ten List #9 In the Fade (Aus dem Nichts) or his earlier THE EDGE OF HEAVEN (2007), which stars Fassbinder actress Hanna Schygulla, while this one stars Fassbinder actress Barbara Sukowa, who was Mieze in BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ (1980) and the lead in LOLA (1981), both providing magnificent performances, where this is a different side of Sukowa that we haven’t seen before.  The film has that sleek, stylistic flourish of American director Michael Mann that was so prevalent in the 80’s and 90’s, like Thief (1981) or HEAT (1995), chic and sophisticated, with eye-popping visuals and powerfully-lit nighttime scenes.  Making her first film in 13 years, Angelina Maccarone started out as a writer of song lyrics for Udo Lindenberg and other artists, graduating from the University of Hamburg before she got her Master’s degree in literature, and has been a film professor at Babelsberg Film University since 2014, winning the German Film Award (Lola) for Best Unfilmed Script in 2017, which provided the blueprint, so this film has been in the works for a while.  Coming with great expectations, featuring an international cast centered around four lead characters, skillfully interweaving the same story from four different points of view, the film examines the conflict between personal freedom and political constraints, adding political intrigue with personal conflict.  Shot by Florian Foest, who with a few exceptions has worked almost exclusively in television, yet the look of the film is broodingly dark and complex, suggesting truth lies deeply hidden underneath an artificial façade.  Opening with a panoramic view of the Frankfurt skyline in the evening, as the lights come on in the skyscrapers, while rush hour traffic snakes its way through the streets, only to be disturbed by the sound of an explosion, as a bomb rocks through the stillness of the night, setting off a chain of reactions, as the entire city is on edge, with the film exploring the effect this has on the various protagonists, moving back and forth in time through non-linear storytelling as it carefully unravels a little bit more about each one of them.

Told in chapter headings devoted to each new character, where only gradually are their secrets revealed, Richard (Lambert Wilson) is a successfully wealthy gay British painter living a bohemian freestyle life in Tangier, where he’s fallen in love with a boyish-looking younger man named Malik (Habib Adda), whose dream is to get to Europe by any means possible, willing to take any risk, which includes being smuggled in Richard’s van as he transports his paintings to Frankfurt for an exhibition.  Yet Malik’s presence is a precarious one, as the city is ramping up its security following the suspected terrorist blast and police are everywhere making a slew of arrests, where anyone of Arab descent becomes a suspect, so Richard is adamant about him staying indoors, instructing him to never leave the apartment while he goes out to help arrange the gallery opening.  Initially that is not a problem, but things get dicey when Richard has to return to England on business, as Malik grows restless being stuck inside, having no outside contact, so he breaks the rules, thinking nothing will come of it, but the suspense is palpable in his wanderings, as ominous signs are everywhere, yet he’s ridiculously naïve and clueless about the implications.  We subsequently learn they are staying in the home of Mathilda (Barbara Sukowa), Richard’s best friend since childhood, who has transformed herself into a cold, hard-nosed, conservative politician who is campaigning on taking a tough stance against illegal immigration, where both men have put her career in jeopardy by harboring the very thing she stands so vociferously against.  The tenderness of Richard’s relationship with Mathilda, however, stands out, as they are extremely close, like brother and sister, sharing many things in common, like music and a cynical take on conventional bourgeois attitudes, remaining in each other’s trust and confidence despite their stark political and ideological differences.  Adding to the mix is her new assistant, Amina (Banafshe Hourmazdi), described as a “cultural mediator,” who is something of a specialist on new EU immigration laws.      

A staunch advocate of stricter EU border controls, Mathilda is a roundly disliked right-wing hardliner who wants to limit migrant populations, whose blatant hypocrisy requires that Malik stay out of sight, suddenly facing a moral dilemma that calls into question her own basic convictions.  The film beautifully examines both her public and private side, where we discover she’s nothing at all like the chilly veneer of her public perception, which is strictly a façade projecting strength and power, where viewers are allowed to see a quieter, more reflective humanist side.  Certainly part of what’s so effective is how the coolness of the distinct style of film matches her public persona, bathed in a veneer of artificiality and practiced techniques, appearing raw and gritty, yet underneath remains the heart of a woman.  While she and Richard are privileged and well-educated, supposedly cut from the same cloth, Amina has more in common with Malik.  Though she may have a similar education, equally well-spoken and a consummate professional, dressed conventionally in her business suit, her path to success has been decidedly different, where that side of her mirrors the concealment of Malik, as it remains hidden and out of sight, not for public consumption.  This multidimensional aspect of their character is not what we expect, as we rarely see an inner side to these more-often neglected characters, so it adds an element of human intrigue.  Coming from an Italian father and a German mother, the director understands more than most about intercultural complexities, exposing the inhumane consequences of xenophobic policies.  The entangled forces that Maccarone weaves together are simply fascinating (though the world has changed greatly since it was written, much darker and less hopeful, especially after the outbreak of war in Ukraine and Gaza), concluding with a sequence that brings everything together, as terrorism is a hot topic of the day, as is the political overreaction, cynically taking advantage of people’s anxieties and fears, projecting strength through ideological rhetoric that only stirs up that pot and actually foments more violence, where it’s easy to blame an unseen enemy which has no face.  This film, as the title suggests, particularly the German title of “clandestine,” challenges that perception, projecting a human face that is so often associated with the enemy, where they are guilty until proven innocent, as the legal standards in this globalized world are simply not equivalent.   

You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet (Vous n'avez encore rien vu)

YOU AIN’T SEEN NOTHIN’ YET (Vous n'avez encore rien vu)        C   
France  Germany  (115 mi)  2012  ‘Scope  d:  Alain Resnais 

This is another of a recent series of aging filmmakers to express themselves through sheer artificiality, much like Manoel de Oliveira, 100-years old and still counting, and the recently deceased Raúl Ruiz, whose immersion into literary source material often leaves their films rigid and lifeless onscreen, so stark in execution that the viewer ends up spending a majority of time simply reading the subtitles, as these are films with non-stop verbiage, almost as if the filmmakers preferred stories that were read to the audience.  While the last film of Resnais, Wild Grass (Les Herbes Folles) (2009), couldn’t have been more playfully energetic with its quirky story of near forgotten moments leading to a budding romance, intoxicating with its impressionistic blur of neon-lit colors, where it obviously had plenty of whimsical fun with its own conceptual design.  Not so here, where you’ll be hard pressed to find any ounce of spontaneity or flair for life in this film, a re-enactment of French playwright Jean Anouilh's 1941 play Eurydice, where the story of Orpheus and Eurydice has previously been told quite impressively in Jean Cocteau’s magical surrealist film ORPHEUS (1950) and the spectacularly colorful BLACK ORPHEUS (1959), a Marcel Camus film that uses the lush backdrop of Rio de Janeiro’s Carnival, featuring the exotic delights of fabulous costumes, nonstop dancing, and wall to wall samba music.  While the play itself was written during the Nazi occupation of France, this historical context is completely left out of the film, though one can infer this may have been the reason it lingered for so long in the director’s imagination. 

In the opening interlude expressed in a montage of split screen images, a varied group of actors receive identical phone calls informing them that Antoine d’Anthac (Denis Podalydès), a friend and beloved theater director has died, requesting their visit to his country estate for the reading of his will.  Once the guests arrive, all gracefully met by Marcellin (Andrzej Seweryn), they are treated to a video performance of the Jean Anouilh play, where as the actors recall their own performances, Resnais blends a mixture of theater, memory, and real life into his own film.  While it sounds clever enough, what it amounts to is largely a filmed theatrical piece, using three different sets of performers, where Resnais interjects onto the screen two sets of older actors watching the movie who recall performing the play in their youth, where they are suddenly projected onscreen as the featured players alongside a video version of younger performers from La Compagnie de la Colombe which was actually filmed by Denis Podalydès.  With a brief break between the first and second acts where all the assembled players light up and smoke, Resnais simply films the entire play, intercutting brief elements of another more modern Anouilh play, Cher Antoine ou l'amour rate from 1969.  So while there is some interest in how the concept initially develops, there are no more surprises, and despite some of the best French stage and screen performers, there is little interest in the play itself, as it exists in a cautious, overly refined, and artificialized setting that accentuates the literary aspect of the play, adding little visual enhancement.    

While there is some pleasure in watching great actors, with Sabine Azema and Anne Consigny as Eurydice, matched by a young and vivacious Vimala Pons, from Jacques Rivette’s final film AROUND A SMALL MOUNTAIN (2009), and Pierre Arditi and Lambert Wilson as Orpheus, it must be said that the team of Azema and Arditi badly overact, adding a neurotic element that goes way over the top, turning this into an antiquated melodrama.  Rivette is probably the most brilliant director incorporating theatrical performances into his films, but he also infuses his characters with intelligence and a probing curiosity, where one can’t help but take interest in the energizing aspect of their appeal, as they are literally teeming with life.  But Resnais has made a film that only grows deadly boring after awhile, where the energy of the young and relatively unknown company actors consistently outshine the cadre of stars who never bring this piece to life, as it instead sits there onscreen like a stuffed shirt overly pleased with itself.  Never invoking the dramatic power and tragedy behind the immortal play, where the all consuming power of love offers Orpheus a chance to bring Eurydice back from the dead, which initially comes from Greek mythology, revisited in various artistic forms for literally thousands of years, from Plato, Virgil, and Ovid to painters like Titian and Puissin, as well as music from Monteverdi, Gluck, and Offenbach, this can only be considered a minor version of a master work, a pale comparison to the legendary Cocteau film, the second of his Orphic Trilogy Films, which notably does make historical reference to the buildings in ruin after World War II, using them as the eerie setting for his underworld, where the Orpheus trial was made to resemble the German inquests after the occupation.  While this was touted on the festival circuit as the swansong for Resnais, whose first film short was made back in the 30’s and first feature followed the war, there is yet another film already in post production, another collaboration with English playwright Alan Ayckbourn, his fourth film adaptation, where it will continue this obsession of aging film directors with literary works. 

Of Gods and Men (Des Hommes et Des Dieux)

Two archival photos of the French Trappist monks of the Tibhirine Notre-Dame de l'Atlas monastery of Medea, 1996

OF GODS AND MEN (Des Hommes et Des Dieux)               B+                  

France  (120 mi)  2010 ‘Scope  d:  Xavier Beauvois

I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High. But ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes.

—Psalm 82:6-7

Despite its heralded success at Cannes, taking the second prize or Grand Prix award, this is a surprisingly formulaic film, much more so than his earlier works which play out in a more gritty and realistic manner.  Based on a real life incident of nine French Trappist monks that took place at a Trappist monastery in Algeria in 1996, this also has a near documentary approach, but the somber and grave undertones depicted throughout the picture foreshadow the outcome, significantly altering the overall impact, very much like Gus Van Sant’s ELEPHANT (2003), as what happens feels inevitable and preordained instead of the spontaneous actions of free men.  Not the towering work it might otherwise have been, there is also an opening Biblical quote from Psalm 82 that undercuts the dramatic impact, as the finale is anything but a surprise and has been anticipated all along, as the narrative itself has removed any sense of suspense.  Be that as it may, the film is beautifully poetic with a meticulous precision for the rhythm and manner of actual Trappist monks.  My guess is that the individual appreciation of the film may increase depending upon the devoutness of one’s religious convictions, as there is a religious sweep to what happens, much of which is layered in actual scripture.  Since Jesus himself is viewed in Christianity as a martyr whose ultimate sacrifice for mankind defines the essence of being human, he is the model used by the monks themselves in demonstrating their own humanity. 

Based on actual historical circumstances, thirty years after their independence as a French colony, Algeria was caught up in a bloody civil war where a corrupt government annulled unfavorable election results and declared martial law while a ruthless Islamic insurgency was attempting to eradicate the nation from foreigners and infidels with what seemed like daily occurrences of beheadings and throat slashings.  Within this context, the original government representative asks the monks to return to France, as he can no longer vouch for their safety.  The situation had become too volatile.  Initially the leader of the monks, Brother Christian (Lambert Wilson), scoffs at the idea as they are committed to peace, but over time, growing fears lead many of his fellow monks to raise objections about staying, thinking it would be suicidal.  Based on their conflicting views, they decide to pray and ask for God’s guidance in the matter.  While this is not a historical account, rather a poetic rendering of their search for faith during a time of deepening crisis, each is perceived in the most human sense reacting to their own fears and flaws, where some have difficulty sleeping at night, others find God silently absent, and all struggle with their ongoing doubts about the conflict.  What the movie does portray well is an interesting harmony that exists with the local Muslim community, as part of the monk’s vows include poverty and charitable work, providing free medicine and health care to the poor while also intermingling with traditional Islamic religious events, where they are regarded as friends and as welcome as any Muslim.  Early in the film before the eruption of violence, local Algerian men freely offer assistance in needed help around the monastery as well.  But soon, bloodshed and fear are everywhere, where the local police still harbor resentment and blame leftover from the French colonial era.   

Shown as a repeated motif are the continuing images of the daily rituals within the monastery, dressing in robes and hoods, reading and writing letters by hand, attending group meetings and sharing meals where their personal thoughts are conveyed, but especially the communal songs and solemn prayers that the monks sing in unison which act as the film’s spiritual narration.  What’s likely to appeal to viewers is the collective portrait of human decency and personal intimacy reflected during such barren and hostile conditions, where men lead starkly austere and unadorned lives, where they spend their lives in a state of perpetual reflection seeking nothing more than the grace of God.  Simplicity is the key, as these are men who do not concern themselves with anything except what’s essential, reflected so eloquently by the sect’s physician Brother Luc (Michael Lonsdale) as he offers his most heartfelt thoughts to a young Muslim girl about the essence of true love, while in another scene he literally immerses himself into the interior realm of a religious painting, placing his cheek directly onto Christ’s chest, as if listening for his heartbeat.  Perhaps the most controversial sequence is the blatant tribute to Carl Dreyer and his silent film era use of painterly close ups in THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928), so modernist at its inception, but easily attributed here in a signature Last Supper shot set to the music of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, a scene Beauvois brilliantly makes his own as there’s a timeless poetry reflected by the sheer joy of communal love.  The use of snow at the end is especially haunting, reminiscent of Kurosawa’s DREAMS (1990), where reality becomes coated with a dreamlike fog that closes the film with a hushed whisper.