Border (Gräns)

Finnish actor Eero Milonoff and Swedish actress Eva Melander

Director Ali Abbasi

BORDER (Gräns)                  B                    

Sweden  Denmark  (101 mi)  2018 ‘Scope  d:  Ali Abbasi

Born in Iran but now working in Sweden, this is Abbasi’s follow-up to his gothic horror thriller SHELLEY (2016), creating a bizarre mix of Nordic mythological folklore and supernatural fantasy that was the surprise winner of the Un Certain Regard section at Cannes.  Abassi started his career as a writer, intrigued by the magical realism of South American writers like Gabriel García Márquez or Carlos Fuentes, especially how they combined fantasy and realism to create a more intense story, where dreams and hallucinations become part of everyday life.  Adapted from the opening story of John Ajvide Lindqvist’s 2005 short story collection Let the Old Dreams Die, the same writer of Tomas Alfredson’s vampire film LET THE RIGHT ONE IN (2008), the film is a striking balance between the supernatural and the mundane, with much of it taking place in the minds of the characters, much like Joachim Trier’s 2017 Top Ten List #4 Thelma, which is more of a character study, while this might be considered a darkly romantic horror story.  Among the better directed films seen this year, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into one of the better films.  Abbasi is brilliant in establishing atmosphere and mood, with an incredible electronic music score from Christoffer Berg and Martin Dirkov, while the lush cinematography is provided by Nadim Carlsen, immediately luring the audience into an alternate world, featuring Swedish actress Eva Melander as Tina, completely unrecognizable under a silicone mask that took 4 to 5 hours to apply each day, working at a ferry terminal customs check point, where she can sense the mood of the person, whether they may be guilty or filled with shame, and then sniffs out the illegal contraband.  Her unique talent is accepted by her fellow inspectors, viewed as exceptional in her duties, as she’s so accurate.  But she has a monstrous look about her, perhaps the result of a physical deformity, yet she acts normal in her position, always discreetly polite to the passengers, yet the way she sniffs out what she senses is so bizarre that it’s always good for a laugh, as it seems so animalistic, like a hound dog on the trail.  Because of the precise detail of her work, however, the audience accepts her extrasensory gift without question, realizing she’s extraordinarily effective at what she does.  If truth be told, however, this sniffing method has been seen before in Bruno Dumont’s L’HUMANITÉ (1999), which also features a police inspector who may or may not be human, who intensely sniffs his suspects, yet the weirdness of his mannerisms was peculiarly off-putting throughout, but it didn’t prevent David Cronenberg’s jury from awarding nonprofessional actor Emmanuel Schotté the Best Actor award at Cannes. 

Things begin to change when Tina encounters her mirror image in Vore, Finnish actor Eero Milonoff, so good as the overdriven manager in The Happiest Day in the Life of Olli Mäki (Hymyilevä mies) (2016), also unrecognizable in a similar silicone mask, where he seems happy to have his bag inspected, curious what her response will be, as he collects worms and insects, placing them inside a canister that resembles a bomb.  After a brief look she allows him to pass, more intrigued personally than professionally, especially when the two sniff each other, which the audience will get a kick out of, as it’s too comically absurd to ignore.  In another film they’d be an alien species, perhaps defined by their differences, but in this film they co-exist with the rest of the human race, deformed creatures following the same rules and guidelines, where they’ve become part of the world we live in.  It’s an oddly compelling premise, but the John Carpenter-style soundtrack adds depth and space, elevating their interior world, becoming something wondrous to behold.  In no time Tina is called into the office of a police investigator, asking how she was able to detect an incriminating device of stored child pornographic material placed in someone’s cellphone, explaining she can just sense these things.  “Is it really possible to smell what people are feeling?”  Viewers already know the answer.  The inspector asks for help in identifying a specific location where these crimes are occurring, having narrowed it down to a general region.  Curiously, this subplot about a pedophile ring was not in the original Lindqvist story, but may be paying homage to his earlier novel Let the Right One In, where the pedophile subplot was omitted from the film.  What’s surprising is just how completely accepted Tina is in the police investigative business, treated as an invaluable resource, as she unearths evidence no human could find.  Tina has a home next to a forest, where she’s able to commune with animals, also visit a pristinely beautiful lake that looks unspoiled and unchanged since the world began.  She has an odd roommate that she describes as her boyfriend, Roland (Jörgen Thorsson), but their relationship is sexless, as he’s void of ambition or love, spending his time drinking and tending to his prized Dobermans.  It’s when Vore visits again that things get interesting, as he undergoes a personal search where her partner discovers he is a she, as he has female sex organs.  Curiously, he also has similar scars and markings on his body, where she had always been told about chromosomal abnormalities to explain her deformities.  Interestingly, Tina also visits her elderly father in a senior center, Sten Ljunggren from Lukas Moodysson’s Together (Tillsammans) (2000), where he clearly has deteriorating memory issues.  But when she asks about the scars, he offers a simple explanation that sounds reasonable, but could hardly explain the exact same marking on two different people. 

Accepting all her deformities, Tina is at peace with the surrounding natural world, and can even sense when animals are about to cross the road, waiting patiently in her car for them to magically appear, while resigning herself to living as an outsider on the margins of society.  But meeting Vore alters that perception, as he accepts her the way she is, wanting nothing changed.  He has a bit of an attitude himself, proudly displaying his differences, which is something he’s not ashamed of, feasting on the bugs and insects he collects, finding them incredibly tasty, offering some to Tina, which she also devours.  When Tina invites Vore to move into her guest cabin, things heat up, as the two of them find an irresistible animal attraction between them, though not at first, where Roland appears to be the outsider, the odd man out.  When he takes his dogs to a dog show, though, the two are left alone on the premises, allowing their true nature to reveal itself.  What happens next is better experienced than described, curiously unworldly, though their foreplay resembles Klingon love from Star Trek, yet it’s mostly a shock to the system, and a revelation for Tina, who no longer has to hide, but is actually appreciated, finding it a completely liberating experience.  It’s an interesting metaphor for minorities and people who are different, so easily ostracized from communities, yet have the same need for love and companionship as anyone else, human or otherwise.  Vore supplies many of the missing pieces about her childhood and their strange culture, suggesting there are others like them in hiding in Finland, yet he also has an aversion to humans, finding them weak and selfish, believing they are diabolically evil and should get what they deserve, offering weird implications about exacting revenge.  Tina, on the other hand, exhibits no sense of vengeance, thinking not all humans are evil, and she’d prefer no one gets hurt, wondering if that’s a human quality.  But it’s clear her father has been hiding secrets from her, much like the parents in 2017 Top Ten List #4 Thelma, who were afraid of their child’s supernatural power if unleashed onto the world.  Thelma also wanted to use her powers for good and actually despised the idea of pain and retribution.  Tina is an incredibly well thought out character and Melander does wonders in the role, but some might find it too weird and grotesque to experience a significant emotional impact, valuing mood and special effects over any human drama, despite the exquisite direction that keeps viewers engaged throughout.  But good and evil are universal considerations, where this film takes us to both extremes, examining what it is to be human and non-human, while also questioning the moral values of living in both worlds.  One is not inherently more evil, but may act that way sometimes as a means to protect themselves from the fire and brimstone hurled in their direction.  There’s plenty of Nordic mythology depicted in this film, including a species “chased by lightning,” perhaps penance for their wrongdoing from mythical times, but what’s clear is audiences haven’t seen a pair of lovers like this, deserving plenty of credit for originality. 

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (Kaguyahime no monogatari)

THE TALE OF THE PRINCESS KAGUYA (Kaguyahime no monogatari)   B             
aka:  The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter

Japan  (137 mi)  2013  d:  Isao Takahata          Disney [Japan]

Isao Takahata and Hayao Miyazaki are the co-founders of the Japanese animation production company, Studio Ghibli, in June 1985, where eight of Studio Ghibli’s films are among the 15 highest-grossing anime films made in Japan.  Unlike Miyazaki who is an extraordinary manga artist and anime illustrator, Takahata does not draw and never worked as an animator before becoming a full-fledged director, though both worked together and had long careers in Japanese film and television animation.  The studio is known for a strict “no-edits” policy, where rumor has it a Studio Ghibli producer sent an authentic Japanese sword to Miramax co-chairman Harvey Weinstein after contemplating edits to PRINCESS MONONOKE (1997), reportedly with the simple message “No cuts.”  Anime art styles range from wild, exaggerated stylization to subtle, more realistic approaches where the use of lines are prevalent, though more influenced by a brush than by a pen, where Miyazaki’s lush colorization filling every inch of the frame contrasts with Takahata’s more minimalist, pastel watercolor technique that leaves plenty of empty space unfilled, especially around the edges of the frame, creating more abstract imagery.  Miyazaki’s extraordinary musical composer, Joe Hisaishi, provides the gorgeous soundtrack for the film, which is based upon a 10th century Japanese folktale called The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, which is Japan’s oldest recorded story, predating the world’s first novel, Lady Murasaki’s The Tale of Genji by at least a century.  At age 79, Takahata has been trying to make this film for more than 50 years, best known as the maker of GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES (1988), where film critic Roger Ebert, Grave of the Fireflies Movie Review (1988) | Roger Ebert, claims it “belongs on any list of the greatest war films ever made,” but also his more subtly distinctive films, known for being quiet and humane, ONLY YESTERDAY (1991), POM POKO (1994), and MY NEIGHBORS THE YAMADAS (1999), where the director has returned from semi-retirement after a 14-year absence. 

After the announced retirement of Hayao Miyazaki on September 6, 2013 after nearly three decades at the helm, his departure leaves the future of Studio Ghibli very much in doubt, as the secret to the studio’s popular longevity has been their insistence on producing hand-drawn animated films for decades, sticking to the painstakingly slow process of drawing images frame by frame long after other studios have embraced computer-aided animation and special CGI effects.  Every one of Studio Ghibli’s successes has adhered to the hand-drawn tradition, from MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO (1988) to Miyazaki’s final film The Wind Rises (Kaze Tachinu) (2014) released earlier this year, though POM POKO (1994) was the first to use computer graphics, while PRINCESS MONONOKE (1997) was Miyazaki’s first mix of digital drawing and coloring onto the 2D hand-drawn imagery, the latter being a more delicate artform that has been able to sustain itself because it has employed the same animators throughout their careers, as opposed to other studios that rely upon short-term piecework.  According to Tokyo-based Polygon Pictures president and CEO Shuzo John Shiota, the leaders of the hand-drawn style are becoming fewer, “In Japan not many young people are coming in (to the 2D animation scene) anymore.  The master animators are not easy to replace.”  Shiota concludes that today’s animators simply don’t have the patience and can’t draw as well as their predecessors did, where it’s inevitable that computer generated imagery is the wave of the future.  The Japanese market, however, loves their hand-drawn anime, where according to the top-earning domestic Japanese films in 2013, 2013 Japan Yearly Box Office Results - Box Office Mojo, six of the top ten are hand-drawn animation, despite a digital wave steadily encroaching on the industry.  If you watch a movie from Studio Ghibli, part of the brilliance is being able to see the spectacular, where it is not out of the ordinary to see a deer morph into a monstrous god in PRINCESS MONONOKE (1997), a boy turn into a flying dragon in SPIRITED AWAY (2001), or a fish transform into a young girl in PONYO (2008). 

Like MY NEIGHBORS THE YAMADAS (1999), Takahata in this picture prefers to use the simplistic art style of watercolor pictures, creating a ravishingly beautiful opening in the middle of a bamboo forest where Okina (old man) is drawn to the light emanating from a particular stalk.  Investigating further, he is shocked to discover a palm-sized baby nestled inside, which he believes is a heavenly offering, bringing the baby home to his equally astounded wife Ouna (old woman), calling the child “Princess.”  While he hesitates to share his prize, believing it was his own destiny to discover this princess, they are both further amazed to discover their child grow, roll over, and walk in a matter of days, where they are both literally able to see growth spurts before their startled eyes, quickly realizing this was no ordinary baby.  As the child grows old enough to play with local kids in the fields, nicknamed “Little Bamboo,” which is an utter delight to watch as everything is discovered for the first time, the film interestingly takes on a dual perspective, one from the curiously developing point of view of the child, and another throughout from the more protective view of the adoptive parents.  This device allows the audience to comprehend the split personality that develops, as her unique childhood is expressed through joyous liberation and exploration with forest creatures and friends, while the responsibilities of parenthood is something else altogether.  Okina discovers more glowing bamboo stalks in the forest which are filled with gold, leading him to the conclusion that he was expected to provide an appropriate environment for a true princess, eventually moving from the edge of the forest into a palace in the city, along with many hired assistants to provide for her every need, including a teacher of etiquette named Lady Sagami that would transform her from a liberated young tomboy into an obedient princess whose beauty and reputation is worthy of her title, attracting the interest of rich suitors who would come from great distances to ask for her hand in marriage.  Anyone familiar with Homer’s Odysseus, Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, or Puccini’s exotic final opera Turandot will recognize the line of suitors vying for the hand of a beautiful maiden, not to mention Siegfried having to overcome a curse of the gods and battle through a ring of fire to reach the imprisoned Brünnhilde in Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen.   

There’s even a naming ceremony where a venerated royal priest gives her the formal name of Princess Kaguya, for the scattering light that radiates from within her, where they hold a celebratory party that goes on for days but turns into a disaster, where she hears rumors that she’s not a real princess at all, that her family purchased her title.  In a fit of disgust, she bolts from the castle racing as fast as she can, where she’s seen as a blur in black and white charcoal drawings where her whizzing form is the only touch of color in an otherwise empty landscape.  The abstract spaciousness of the unfinished drawings project her restless state of mind as she anxiously returns to her former home in the forest, hoping to find the simpler and happier times of her childhood, but all her friends have moved away, leaving her stuck in a visually empty netherworld that resembles a desert of snow, only to awaken in her bed with the party still raging and no one has missed her at all.  Unfortunately the suitor story grows unnecessarily repetitive, as it duplicates itself, each initially given an impossible task, where the Princess believes she’s gotten rid of them all, but they eventually return years later reporting miraculous successes, which prove to be hoaxes.  Nonetheless, the attention even draws the interest of the Emperor, but when he attempts to possess her, she uncannily discovers the power to disappear.  While it all remains cloaked in beauty and innocence, nonetheless the parents controlling interests vie with her own unyielding spirit, which is essentially the centerpiece of the film, but then more mysteries unravel, where we discover she is a child of destiny, a daughter of the moon, and that it’s only a matter of time before she must return.  This narrative wrinkle thrown in at the end feels like it comes from another story, as it’s a supernatural element at odds with the discovery of her own innate humanness.  Takahata never finds a way to successfully blend this unfathomable revelation into the film without resorting to naked manipulation, where the extended tearful anguish from being ripped from her earthly family at the end feels forced and excessively traumatizing (one should question the tagline suitable for all ages).  Had the Princess liberated herself from what was expected of her by her parents (and society) as well as her ultimate fate, perhaps this would have been perceived as overly modern, where perhaps it might have lost some essential Japanese component, where it is her duty to follow her destiny.  After all, this was originally conceived in the 10th century, when women had no conceivable place in society except to follow behind and obey the dictates of men.  But seen today, there’s something cruelly uncomfortable about the magical celebratory nature of the finale, where the Princess is so close to achieving the unthinkable, imagining a different life for herself, but instead ends up doing what’s traditionally expected of her, seemingly with no free will whatsoever.  Despite the joyful feel of the transporting music, the horror is she is a fading light, a distant memory, a shell of the person she might have become.