Domino

Director Brian de Palma

 

de Palma with actor Nikolaj Coster-Waldau

 

de Palma with Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and actress Carice van Houten

 






DOMINO                   D                    

Denmark  France  Italy  Belgium  Netherlands (89 mi)  2019 d:  Brian de Palma

Kind of a throwback film from an earlier era, feeding into the global paranoia about Islamic terrorism, like the cheapo exploitation flicks pumped out by your typical Golan-Globus production, founded by Israeli cousins Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus, which in the mid-80’s were cranking out more than a dozen films per year, coinciding with the VHS boom of the late 70’s and early 80’s, literally packing the shelves of local video stores, when the company had an insatiable appetite for high octane B-movies, where the secret was their embrace of the international market, something Hollywood was slow to comprehend.  Enter Brian de Palma, a shlock movie specialist with an affinity for films from that era, where this is only his second film in more than a decade, seemingly making this film on the fly.  Shot in Spain and Denmark with an international cast and crew, it couldn’t be more confusing, spoken in English instead of Danish, where the sound’s not in synch with the words being spoken, feeling like it was hastily completed.  As it turns out, de Palma had an additional hour that has been excised from the final version, with the release delayed for a year, with the director removed from the final product.  Completely frustrated with the process, de Palma is quoted a year ago as saying, “I had a lot of problems in financing [the film].  I never experienced such a horrible movie set.  A large part of our team has not even been paid yet by the Danish producers.  The film is finished and ready to go out, but I have no idea what its future will hold, it is currently in the hands of the producers.  This was my first experience in Denmark and most likely my last.”  Rife with stereotypes, exactly like all his earlier films, this is not exactly a picture of taste and refinement, using crude exploitive imagery that is not for the meek, revitalizing ISIS beheadings and suicide bombers, creating propaganda imagery as recruiting material, which this film is more than happy to recreate, emulating their style, suggesting de Palma actually finds cinematic aspects of ISIS propaganda intriguing, perhaps admiring the way (befitting of the age of selfies) terrorists love to document their own atrocities, using a lead character to speak the director’s mind, “Even the way they shoot it, it's like they're professionals.  I mean, the use of graphics, slow-motion, even a drone shot.”  If that’s not disgusting enough, less of an action thriller, this is really a threadbare romance taking place in a murky world of international terrorism, though there’s barely a pulse that registers, as the man in question is actually dead, killed off early in the film, yet the pangs of love survive.  There’s something silly and passé about the storyline, like recalling a bad dream, but it doesn’t have to make sense, though it’s an attempt to be topical.  

Set in Denmark, with a pan of the sleek architecture of Copenhagen reminding viewers where they are, we follow a pair of hard-nosed cops, the more flamboyant Christian (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) and the older, internally repressed Lars (Søren Malling), who seems lost on a different wavelength, cynical and downbeat, as if uncomfortable in his own skin.  While Christian obsesses about food and sex, Lars is moody and inherently disinterested all the time, though he’s punctual, picking up his partner the next morning, but his female sex partner in bed doesn’t want to let him go, allowing himself to get distracted, actually forgetting his gun, an act for which consequences invariably ensue.  Responding to a routine call, described as a domestic dispute (altogether missing a van parked out front in plain view), they encounter a man on the elevator with blood on the tips of his shoes, Ezra Tarzi, Eriq Ebouaney, never better than portraying Patrice Lumumba in LUMUMBA (2000), also appearing in de Palma’s own FEMME FATALE (2002), but here he goes through the motions as the angry black man, arrested on the spot, handcuffed and apprehended, with Christian borrowing his partner’s gun to take a look upstairs while Lars awaits a patrol van to take their prisoner.  What he discovers is revolting, as Tarzi has been torturing a victim with a knife, but by the time he runs back downstairs, Tarzi has escaped the cuffs and stabbed his partner in the neck (without his gun to defend himself), making a break out the window onto the roof.  Unsure of what to do, but at the urging of his partner, he bolts out the window giving chase, where the steepness of the roof gives each of them problems, with both perilously hanging from a dangling gutter overlooking the street down below in an homage to Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958), eventually falling into a crate of tomatoes.  While Christian is momentarily dazed, men in suits apprehend Tarzi, taking him away, leaving Christian to ponder what just happened.  But this sets the wheels in motion, as Lars lies unconscious in a hospital bed while Christian unravels the dark past of Tarzi, a former special forces Libyan whose patriotic father was beheaded by a terrorist mastermind Salah al-Din (Mohammed Azaay), who as it turns out spent 12 years in Guantánamo as a model prisoner without incident, but literally hours after his release he goes underground completely undetected, currently seen prepping a young female suicide bomber on her next mission, which will send fear into the hearts of the West while bringing glory to God and Islam (“Ending the lives of infidels is a great thing.  Scaring the millions of others who see it live on TV is something even greater!”), with de Palma in split screen capturing the face of the assassin mixed with the horrified faces of the victims as she machine guns actors, models, and photographers on the red carpet runway of the Netherlands Film Festival (an homage to his own film Femme Fatale shot on the Cannes red carpet), causing sheer pandemonium, but also utter jubilation when viewed from al-Din’s perspective. 

With underwritten characters that never come alive and a tepid orchestral score that falls flat, this borders on the banal, where easily the silliest thread in the film is the portrayal of the CIA, given comical stature from none other than Guy Pearce (in a bad accent) playing Agent Joe Martin, who has no redeeming moral values, so corrupt that he may as well be a criminal himself, essentially blackmailing Tarzi, who he kidnaps at the crime scene (while imprisoning his children), to do the dirty work that the CIA is hamstrung to do due to legal restraints, basically encouraging Tarzi to be a mad dog on the loose, operating with impunity, free to torture, murder, or rough up potential suspects as he pleases, hell-bent on revenge for the death of his father, ferociously targeting al-Din, with Agent Martin sitting on the sidelines casually taking credit for it all.  Meanwhile Christian joins forces with the detective assigned to investigate the case, Alex (Carice van Houten), who has a secret romantic history with his partner, a revelation that leaves Christian completely flummoxed, incapable of believing his partner kept secrets from him, but may explain his reticent behavior of late.  This romantic storyline is simply Hollywood overkill, as they love to express romance in the backdrop of war or some other tragic event, supposedly accentuating the power of love, but since Lars dies in the hospital while Christian and Alex are on the road in search of Tarzi, there is no love affair to speak of, as it all happened in a hermetically sealed universe, becoming more of a memorial tribute.  With all events converging in Almería, Spain, we discover a tomato motif used throughout the film is the means for weapons trafficking, smuggled while concealed in tomato crates onto ferries crossing the sea into Morocco, easily transporting weapons into Libya or Mali or the sites of other ISIS uprisings.  If it weren’t so comically simplistic, especially the coincidence of recognizing the terrorist leader in the front seat of a produce truck, following him to a bullring in the center of town where another planned attack is to take place, which must have lured de Palma, known for creating dynamic set pieces in real life locations, but this one kind of fizzles out instead.  Apparently they had funding difficulties, unable to find extras to fill the stadium to capacity, so the shot never materialized as intended.  Nonetheless, there are few memorable movie scenes shot in bullrings, so this has an air of anticipation, with all the forces converging at one dramatic point in time, a powderkeg about to explode, with de Palma mixing a modern era drone viewpoint with old-fashioned binocular shots, but few will likely find this resolution appealing, reduced to a one-liner from Agent Martin, explaining how he figured out what was going on, “We’re Americans, we read your emails.”  In the end, however, international terrorism has been reduced to a personal revenge saga, bathed in an unseen romance, with plenty of revolting propaganda footage taking center stage. 

2017 Top Ten List #4 Thelma

 

Actress Eili Harboe (left) with director Joachim  Trier

 

THELMA             A                          

Norway (116 mi) 2017  d:  Joachim Trier      

A brilliant character study of a young adolescent college student (Eili Harboe as Thelma) who has left her Norwegian country home where she’s lived her entire life to attend college classes in Oslo, subject to living on her own for the first time, away from the domineering presence of her overtly Christian parents.  The opening prelude is an eye-opener, an enthralling wintry sequence of a father (Henrik Rafelsen) taking his young 6-year old daughter into the woods on a hunting trip, hiking deep into the snowy woods where they spot a deer, aiming the rifle first at the deer, but then altering his position so the rifle is pointed directly into the back of his daughter’s head, holding the position, to the viewer’s horror, for an extended period of time before finally changing his mind, burdened apparently by some unfathomable torment that lingers deep inside his troubled conscience, where audible gasps could be heard in the audience.  At least initially, this ghastly image suggests there’s something wrong with any parent that would ever stoop to this, as if they’ve been out in the woods too long.  The precision of that image really defies expectations, yet the stunning clarity of the moment haunts the remainder of the film.  Trier has a history of provocative opening shots, in Oslo, August 31 (2011) a stream of personalized, collective memories of Oslo precede a suicide in progress, Oslo, August 31st - Opening Memories (English Subs)  (2:30), while another dazzling display of his cinematic prowess opens Reprise (2005), as two friends simultaneously drop manuscripts of novels they have written into the mailbox while the narrator toys with the idea of various outcomes that “could” happen, playfully using freeze frames and quick cuts, always keeping viewers off guard, much of it conveyed through a glorious montage of Nordic culture on parade in Oslo (with effective change of speed) that plays to the pulsating punk rhythms of Joy Division’s “New Dawn Fades” Reprise (Opening Section) (7:43).  A two-time Norwegian skateboard champion as a teenager, who got his start making skateboard videos, Joachim Trier (1991)  (3:25), his feature film career has spanned little more than a decade, but Trier has yet to misfire, as all his films are majestical journeys into the unknown, conveying deeply humanistic themes, where one of his strong points is his contemporary use of music.  Due to the somber nature of this film, featuring ever-changing moods, Trier uses an eclectic score, moody introspective music including Chelsea Wolfe - Feral Love (Official Video) - YouTube (3:48), Susanne Sundfør - Mountaineers (featuring John Grant) - YouTube (5:21), and symphonic variations from American composer Philip Glass to convey his mood, using excerpts from his Symphony #2, Philip Glass: Symphony No. 2 (1993) - YouTube (43:11).   

At least initially, Thelma is portrayed as a hard-working student dedicated to her studies, yet remains alone, apart from the rest, making no new friends, something that obviously concerns her and her parents, as eluded to from incessant phone calls that suggest smothering parents still hovering over her, wanting to be included in her every move, which feels overly intrusive.  We certainly don’t get positive feelings from her parents, yet Thelma herself is something of a delight, willing to stand up for herself when challenged, showing plenty of composure for her young age, where her introspective, overly shy nature allows the audience to experience her innermost thoughts, where she casts an extremely positive spirit, if only because we know she’s honest, warmhearted, and means well, where we sense nothing phony about her.  Along with his writing partner, Eskil Vogt, who shares writing credits with the director for each of his four feature films, they are extremely adept at building character, where it feels as if they’re coming from a literary background, as the densely complex picture they create is impressively detailed, right down to the minutia.  No red flags are raised until an incident occurs in class, set off, perhaps, by a bird violently flying into the window pane, as her hands start to tremble.  Before long, she’s on the floor in the midst of an epileptic seizure, or so it seems, though she seeks further follow-up treatment afterwards, where at least initially tests are not definitive.  Shortly afterwards, she meets another young student in her class, Anja (Kaya Wilkins), who witnessed her incident, but was more impressed by the way she handled herself in a social situation when she was being teased about her faith, which she turned around to the condescending student, asking if he comprehends how his cellphone works, leaving him searching for an explanation, suggesting technology is at least as unfathomable as spirituality, yet no one questions it.  The two girls become best friends, adding a radiant glow to her look, smiling more frequently, expressing an exhilaration that turns into young love, developing a special affection for Anja, something that completely confounds her, as it’s beyond the realm of her own comprehension.  Without pandering to anything exploitive, their relationship is allowed to develop naturally into sexuality and desire, while at the same time she remains vulnerable and exposed to flashing strobe lights in a dance club, or flickering lights in a classroom, as these kinds of flashing light incidents can trigger seizures, where even the audience is forewarned at the opening of the picture.  But rather than fully embrace and accept Anja, her sexual awakening unleashes other feelings, as it conflicts with the scripture she was taught to respect, and she senses some unforeseen danger is about to happen, so instead she suppresses her feelings entirely, hoping they will simply go away.  But instead her behavior becomes more adventurous and reckless, the same consequences of a typical college student, yet her seizures intensify.

One of the best aspects of this film is how slowly new information is revealed and processed, as it changes the context of the film, but in the most subtle fashion.  That’s what’s substantially different, and effective, about this film, remaining understated, holding its cards close to the vest, making each new revelation that much more noteworthy and impactful.  There is an obligatory medical test, where in order to confirm a diagnosis of epileptic seizures, they need to induce a seizure that can be scientifically measured, where the surprise is there is no trace of epilepsy, suggesting some other undiagnosed trauma, and is instead referred for a psychiatric evaluation.  Among the many factors of consideration is her family history, where she had a grandmother with a lengthy confinement in a mental hospital.  Because so much of this is inexplicable, there’s a beautiful montage of how history has dealt with this issue in the past, calling it delirium or hysteria, possessed by demons, Satanic, labeling the victim a witch, then burning them at the stake.  What becomes abundantly clear is that her family has kept much of this information from her, and what they have told her is blatantly untrue, causing Thelma to have to reassess her own condition, which puts her in a precarious situation, flying blind, so to speak, where her next episode is magnified tenfold, breaking all worldly boundaries, becoming a supernatural phenomenon of devastating proportions, veering into Brian De Palma territory, namely The Fury (1978), and prior to that, CARRIE (1976), or so it seems, without all the hyper-exaggerated extravagance, as it all feels like a dream to her, unaware of the full extent.  She is so freaked out by this incident that she calls her parents and wants to return home, where she immediately falls under the spell of her father, who is also her treating physician.  Instead of accelerating into another stratosphere, the tone of the film remains quietly subdued, where we still sense a kind of evil from her parents, whose motives remain unclear, though a series of flashbacks dating back to Thelma’s childhood unravel all the clues, becoming something altogether different.  Continually probing underneath the surface, the film is one whoppingly different character study, where the earlier attention to detail pays off in dividends, as the transition to paranormal remains within her persona, part of who she is, where she remains, in essence, an innocent free of ulterior motives, which is vastly different from the De Palma films, actually treading new territory.  The intricacies of her family relationship are dynamically expressed, where the camera remains closely affiliated with Thelma’s point of view at different stages in her life, where the audience sees the world as she sees it, taking it all in, where it always feels like a new development, dangerously fluctuating from nightmares to moments of angelic benevolence, where growing pains are inevitably linked to her own internally developing existential horror, continually having to ward off yet another catastrophe.  What she discovers is a terrifying realization of an unstoppable telekinetic power developing within, where on earth she is one of a kind, yet, mysteriously, with every breath she remains true to herself, even more human, which is easily the most remarkable aspect of the film.