Someone counted, and if the count is correct, ‘Coup de chance‘ (2023) is the 50th feature film directed by Woody Allen. The Bronx-born director, screenwriter and actor is nearing the end of his ninth decade of life and seventh decade of creativity. We had been used to a rate of one premiere per year for many years. The fact that ‘Coup de chance‘ premiered after a two-year hiatus can be attributed to the pandemic, but also to the fact that Allen finds it increasingly difficult to find financing and logistical support. The reasons are linked to episodes from his private life past that have nothing to do with the films he has made or may make, in a world where many of the judges of morality hide behind internet pseudonyms and the number of those who are ready to explain why they don’t want to see his films is higher than those who wait year after year for the ‘new Woody Allen’. His oscillations between America and Europe brought him again with ‘Coup de chance‘ to France, to Paris, the city that once loved Allen immensely and which Allen continues to love and film as often as he can . ‘Midnight in Paris’, his previous film shot entirely in the City of Lights, had been one of those films touched by a magic wand and a hit with audiences and critics. ‘Coup de chance‘ is much more modest in its ambitions, Paris is the background and not a character, but the pleasure of being and filming here is obvious. The story, however, could have taken place anywhere, in any big city, maybe even Manhattan. The film is spoken in French, acted by French actors and made with an almost exclusively French technical team, but it cannot be said that it is a French film.
Fanny Fournier née Moreau (as married women’s names are written on French identity cards) is young, beautiful, remarried to Jean Fournier, a man whose profession is to make people rich even richer. He is rich himself, and the two of them live in the circles of Parisian society, where at social gatherings money and what money can buy is discussed, and in weekends money and what money can buy is again discussed, when the riches do not go to hunt in the forest. Jean doesn’t believe in chance, for him what looks like chance are events planned by people, even if they look like something else. Fanny is bored and tries to convince herself that she loves Jean, until the day she meets again with Alain, a former high school classmate who had been secretly in love with his beautiful colleague. Is the meeting and the liaison that develops the result of chance? What will happen when the worlds of those who believe in chance and the world of the man who creates and manipulates chances to his will will clash?
As often with Woody Allen, we are dealing with a story about love, infidelity, jealousy and their consequences, which can lead to murder. On film number 50 in his filmography, Allen seems to have lost none of his narrative fluency and the sincerity with which his characters reveal themselves to the camera. The cinematography, with many beautiful moments, belongs to Vittorio Storaro, a cinematographer who mixes emotions with colors, winner of three Oscars, who has accompanied Allen in all his films for the last decade. There’s no shortage of humor, and few things are funnier than a mother-in-law who adores her son-in-law more than her daughter, but becomes a fearsome private detective when she suspects something amiss in his behavior. Valérie Lemercier does a wonderful job in this role. Lou de Laâge, Melvil Poupaud and Niels Schneider – all young and talented actors – are the ones who play the roles in the love triangle whose differences can be interpreted sentimentally (relationship of convenience – true love), social (rich – poor) and intellectual (materialistic – spiritual) but especially through the way they relate to risk. The ending resolves the dilemma in a surprising way. For us as viewers, it remains to be seen if the 50th film will be the last or if Woody Allen will have the chance to make more films and we will have the chance to see them.
I believe that Lenny Bernstein would have liked ‘Maestro‘ (2023) and especially the controversies caused by this film. His immense pride would of course have been flattered by the fact that the film dedicated to him is produced by Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg. He would have also understood the reactions of the audiences. Bernstein did not run away from scandals and, although the era was different, he decided to live his life in his own way. Moral judgments would have left him cold. On the other hand, I think he would have been very amused by the music experts’ analyzes of the way the actor playing him conducts the London Symphony Orchestra in the 6-minute-23-second scene with Mahler’s ‘Resurrection’. Just as the musician had a large number of admirers who loved him, but also enough who challenged him to the point of hatred, ‘Maestro‘ also seems to attract extreme reactions. I think he would also have liked the fact that the director, co-writer and actor who plays him, Bradley Cooper, decided to focus this film on the love story between him and his wife Felicia. In fact, ‘Maestro‘ is not so much the biography of the musician Bernstein as the anatomy of this unique love story, a story sprinkled with many painful moments and with immense sacrifices on the part of the woman who accompanied him for most of his life.
The first historical scene evoked in ‘Maestro‘ is the scene any Bernstein biopic could start with, but the way it’s shot lets viewers know that this is not going to be an ordinary biopic. It describes the moment when, in November 1943, Bernstein learned that he would have the opportunity, that same evening, to conduct the New York Philharmonic, replacing Bruno Walter, who had fallen ill. Question is: where in ‘Maestro‘ does the phone call that changes the course of his life catch him? In bed with a man. A few scenes later the young actress Felicia Montealegre heads to the villa where a party is being held. There he will meet Lenny, and the connection between the two is the backbone of the film’s story. A love story between two people, one an artist, the other a great artist. An asymmetrical love story, where Felicia is the one who gives up part of her acting career to support Lenny, raise the children and keep the family together. Bernstein’s infidelities, especially his relationships with other men, become the subject of rumor and gossip. The two give each other the space of personal freedom, but – at least in the film – it is only the man who benefits from it, while the wife continues to protect her children her family and the social reputation. Felicia’s illness brings Lenny back home, suggesting that their relationship was the one true love of his life.
As an actor, Bradley Cooper creates a remarkable role, aided by exceptional make-up, which not only recreates Bernstein’s physiognomy but perfectly accompanies her as she ages. As a director, Bradley Cooper does some very interesting things. I liked the changes of screen format and the alternation between color and black and white. They logically follow the style of the most popular films made in the respective periods. Two scenes, a few minutes long each, caught my attention in particular. One is that of the concert filmed with the LSO in the millennial cathedral of Ely. Filmed ‘one shot’ with a mobile camera. The second is the explanation scene between Felicia and Lenny, the one where Lenny tries to justify himself for his infidelities. Here, unlike the previously mentioned scene, the camera is fixed and is placed quite far away emphasizing the distance between the two characters, with two large windows in the background, through which we will finally see … Snoopy pass. Such scenes are proof that we are dealing with an outstanding director. But actually, incredibly, ‘Maestro‘ is only his second film as a director. And the first was ‘A Star is Born’! I do not join either the severe critics or the unreserved admirers of this film. In fact, despite the extreme reactions, I gave it an average grade. In my opinion, ‘Maestro‘ is a very interestingly made film, but uneven and shallow in its treatment of certain aspects of Bernstein’s career and personality. A more extensive biography could have said more about such aspects as Bernstein’s Jewishness or Felicia’s social and political involvement. And of course, much more about music. However, ‘Maestro‘ is a film that aims to say more about love and sacrifice in love than about music. Carey Mulligan does a terrific job and is my Academy Awards favorite for a female lead role from what I’ve seen so far this year. I started watching the film as a fan of Leonid Bernstein and nothing in it made me change my mind. On the other hand, I fell in love with Felicia Montealegre.
How many times have we witnessed or even participated in heated discussions, in which the two sides started from diametrically opposed positions, representing systems whose reconciliation is impossible or very difficult? Discussions between them usually have topics related to religion or politics, but sometimes they can also belong to other fields. I confess that I have witnessed quite a few such discussions and that I happened to be involved in some of them. I mean, of course, argued discussions and not those sprinkled with insults and verbal violence, which are devoid of any value. Such a discussion is the core of the film ‘The Sunset Limited‘ (2011) produced by the HBO studios and directed by Tommy Lee Jones, one of only four films (so far) in which he was also on the other side of the camera, as a director . I wrote ‘also’ because Jones is also one of the protagonists of the dialogue that represents 99% of the film, together with another formidable actor, Samuel L. Jackson. The film brings to the screen a play by Cormac McCarthy, who also wrote the script and worked closely during the production with Tommy Lee Jones, being his personal friend. Filmed theater? movie for tv? Difficult to answer these questions and perhaps unnecessary, because watching ‘The Sunset Limited‘ is a special experience, one irrelevant to categorize.
The opening scene of the film is the only one that happens somewhere else than the room where the dialogue between the two men takes place. It is a scene without any visible human presence. We see an empty subway station. A train is approaching. That train is unlikely to be the real Sunset Limited, an Amtrak long-distance train that connects California to the Gulf of Mexico and, more recently, reaches Florida. The ominously approaching train may be a symbol for the event that awaits us all at the end of life. It is the pretext that triggers the interaction between the two men. Black saves White’s life by stopping him at the last moment from committing suicide on the train line. He brings him to his house, a noisy and rather shabby apartment in a neighborhood populated by poor people, drug users, maybe criminals. He does not want to let him go, because he is afraid that White will repeat the attempt, and then he begins a dialogue about life and faith. Black is an ex-convict who has found faith. Everything he does is based on The Book, perhaps the only book he has read in his life. He believes in Jesus and in the power to spiritually save those around. White, rightly or wrongly called The Professor, has read over 4000 books in his life, but he no longer believes in anything. He stays for a while to talk with Black, maybe out of politeness, maybe because he feels somewhat indebted to the one who had saved his life. It is not clear, however, that if he leaves alone, if he goes out the door of the apartment, he will not try to commit suicide again. That is if the dialogue with Black didn’t convince him that there was still a meaning in living.
The dialogue seems one of impossible or very difficult to reconcile opposites. The names are symbolic and we don’t even know if they are real, actually we learn them only in the closing credits. Black is African American, White is white. Black is poor, White has at least a thousand dollars in his pocket. Black is a devout Christian, White is an atheistic existentialist. And yet, when two people talk, chances are they’ll meet somewhere. Will this talk bring them closer? Will each of them’s faith or non-faith waver? Each of the viewers watching this film will, I think, come to their own conclusion, and it will depend on their own conceptions and their own value system. Filmmaking is simple. It relies on the excellent acting of the two actors, the power of the words spoken by each of them and the interaction between the two. Theatrical verbosity cannot be avoided. ‘The Sunset Limited’ is a filmed experience of life and philosophy, for which we must be prepared as viewers.
„Amintește-ți doar că eram nevinovat și, la fel ca tine, muritor în ziua aceea, și eu am avut o față marcată de furie, de milă și de bucurie, pur și simplu, un chip uman!”
Cuvintele acestea aparțin lui Benjamin Fondane (Fundoianu), poet evreu născut în Romania, asasinat la Auschwitz în august 1944. Ele sunt înscrise la Yad Vashem, instituția și muzeul din Ierusalim care are ca scop nu doar studiul și documentarea istorica a Holocaustului, ci și păstrarea amintirii fiecăruia din cele șase milioane de victime ale barbariei naziste și antisemite din perioada celui de-al doilea război mondial, cu informații despre nume, vârstă, chip, ceea ce au fost. România a pornit târziu pe drumul recuperării adevărului istoric legat de episoadele Holocaustului care s-au petrecut în România și care au fost în parte responsabilitatea guvernanților României din acea perioadă. Între progresele însemnate care au fost înregistrate în ultimul deceniu se află aducerea la lumină și prezentarea în filme, cărți, simpozioane și expoziții (inclusiv un muzeu permanent) a unuia dintre cele mai întunecate episoade ale istoriei României – pogromul de la Iași de la sfârșitul lunii iunie 1941. Comemorarea victimelor, care multă vreme era făcută doar în cercul restrâns al comunității evreiești, a căpătat în ultimii ani o deschidere mai largă. Alături de cărțile de istorie (între care cartea lui Radu Ioanid despre care am scris și eu) au apărut și cărți de ficțiune, în special cele ale lui Cătălin Mihuleac (și despre ele am scris). Lor li se adaugă volumul ‘Zece povestiri. Pogromul de la Iași’ apărut în 2022 la ‘Editura Muzeelor Literare’, un Proiect FILIT realizat în colaborare cu Institutul Național penrru Studierea Holocaustului din România “Elie Wiesel”.
Imaginile au o putere de evocare care depășește puterea cuvântului. Ele pot fi însă și punct de plecare pentru imaginația care transformată în cuvinte construiește povești și versiuni narative ale evenimentului surprins în încremenirea clipei de expunere fotografică. Institutul “Elie Wiesel” a pus la dispoziția autorilor antologiei câteva dintre fotografiile pe care reporterii vremii le-au făcut în acea duminică neagră din iunie 1941. Zece autori au luat câte una dintre aceste fotografii ca punct de plecare și au scris zece povestiri care dau viață evenimentelor tragice ale acelei zile și impactului acestora în conștiința generațiilor următoare. Este o ocazie de a da viață și nume unora dintre cei care au pierit în aceea zi. Personajele pot fi imaginare, dar ele sunt adevărate artistic și istoric. Volumul acesta poate fi considerat ca o operă complementară colecției de fotografii ale victimelor pogromului, care a fost expusă la Iași, expoziție în care fiecare dintre cei uciși era identificat și erau furnizate informații despre viețile lor profesionale și particulare, despre familii și despre felul în care li se pusese capăt vieților.
Dintre cei zece autori care au contribuit cu povestiri la această antologie, doar doi (după câte știu eu) au tratat în activitatea lor precedentă tema Holocaustului: Adrian Cioroianu ca istoric și prozatorul Cătălin Mihuleac în două romane și o carte de povestiri. Toți au abordat însă tema cu seriozitate și sensibilitate, și ceea ce a rezultat este o colecție de povestiri foarte bine scrise, documentate și prezentând subiectul din perspective diferite și personale. Unele se referă strict la evenimente și la momentul din istorie. Altele examinează consecințele și ecourile în rândurile generațiilor care au urmat și felul în care evenimentele au rămas în memoria individuală și colectivă.
Fundalul comun este, desigur, orașul de pe Copou. În ‘La Promenada’, Radu Pavel Gheo descrie un drum prin orașul de astăzi, în care amintirile prezenței evreiești reprezintă mai degrabă cicatrici urbanistice și ale memoriei:
‘Ies din blocul muncitoresc în care stau și, de obicei vara, cînd e soare și uscat, urc pieziș delușorul costeliv, cu petice de iarbă rară, ce duce spre Tîrgu Cucu. Toamna, iarna, cînd dealul mustește de noroi clisos sau e învelit într-un strat de zăpadă înghețată, urc pe o stradelă din stînga, pe linga Comunitatea Evreiasca. Dar, cînd am mai mult timp, cînd nu mă grăbesc pe nicăieri, cel mai mult îmi place să ocolesc pe Pantelimon, să rătăcesc printre blocurile socialiste și puținele case rămase după sistematizarea comunista, după care să ies undeva pe strada Cucu. Acolo, undeva în față, se înalță Sinagoga Mare – deși “se înalță” și “mare” e cam mult spus, fiindcă e o construcție destul de scundă comparativ cu blocurile din jur. Sinagoga, cum o stiu toți ieșenii. Una dintre puținele rămase, așa mi s-a spus cînd am venit în Iași. Cică odinioară, înainte ca evreii să plece “la Palestina”, erau cu zecile, dădeai de ele la tot pasul. Fiindcă aici a fost cartierul evreiesc. Cu case prăpădite, șubrede și puchinoase. Un fel de ghetou, cu lume săracă și murdară.’ (pag.57-58)
(am păstrat în citate ortografia folosită de editorii cărții)
Câteva dintre victime sunt descrise în momentul morții. Până atunci, viața lor fusese oarecum normală, pe cât o permitea istoria. Unii dintre evreii din oraș luptaseră în Primul Război Mondial în care (lucru puțin cunoscut de publicul larg și omis și de mulți istorici) procentajul evreilor înrolați voluntar a fost mai mare decât media procentajului din întreaga populație din România, deși majoritatea evreilor nu dobândiseră încă nici cetățenia română. Evreii Iașului erau medici, avocați, librari, meseriași, proprietari de mici magazine, muncitori în fabrici, croitorese, gospodine și chiar și amanți ai nevestelor ofițerilor, cum este Sammy, bărbatul ‘brunet, ochios și cu nas îndrăzneț’ din povestirea ‘Cu fața la zid’ a lui Adrian Cioroianu. Pe acesta moartea îl ia prin surprindere:
‘În clipa aceea, Sammy a simțit firul de sîrmă rece care a părut că-l atinge în spate, strecurîndu-se nu se știe cum sub haină și cămașă, direct la piele. Mai întîi a fost acea atingere stranie, și abia mai apoi un pocnet înfundat, rătăcit printre zgomotele străzii Brătianu. N-a fost durere cît a fost surpriză. Sammy a dat înapoi și, în mișcarea lui de rotire, a văzut privirile îngrozite ale individului mahmur, apoi ale tuturor celorlalți opt civili (dintre care, pînă spre seară, n-avea să mai fie în viață vreunul), ba încă și soldații priveau speriați, clar nepregătiți pentru un asemenea curs al faptelor. La doi metri în spatele lui Sammy, soldatul cu fața arsă ținea încă pușca în mîini. Sammy văzu că mîinile tremurau și, dintr-o dată, înțelese. Ceea ce percepuse ca fiind o atingere rece, în spate, la nivelul epidermei, făcu loc în secunda următoare unei dureri ascuțite, ca și cum vîrful incandescent al unei țigări ar fi fost stins în carnea sa, printre coaste, sub piele. Glonțul plecase.’ (pag.42-43)
Multe dintre victimele pogromului au fost copii, uciși împreună cu familiile lor. Trei dintre povestiri oferă perspectiva acestor crime împotriva umanității. În povestirea ‘Ușa’ lui Florin Irimia, moartea fetiței Dora este învăluită într-o metaforă din lumea animalelor. Cei care suntem familiari cu alte cărți ale prozatorului știm că la el animalele pot avea suflet și pot găzdui în pielea lor îngeri sau demoni. În acest caz, Dora, martora asasinării părinților ei, pare a primi o amânare în drumul dinspre ființă spre neființă:
‘”Ce faci, Dora? O, ce mă bucur că sintem iar împreună!”, zise pisica fără să deschidă gura, fără să scoată un sunet. Era ca și cum îi vorbea din priviri. Ochii rotunzi și intenși ai pisicii sclipeau intens. “Ești bine? Dora, o, Doamne, ce frică ne-a fost că n-o să te mai vedem niciodată!” zise și cîinele, fără să-și miște gura, uitindu-se la ea c-o privire plină de iubire cum numai cîinii o pot face.
Dora nu se mira, întotdeauna bănuise că pisicile și cîinii pot vorbi, doar că nu cu oricine și doar dacă aveau ceva cu adevărat important de spus. Singurul lucru neobișnuit era că vocile aparțineau părinților ei. Fetița se apropie de pisică și o mingîie sub bărbie, apoi pe obraji și pe frunte, după care făcu același lucru și cu cîinele. Amîndoi păreau că zimbesc, cîinele o linse pe față, iar pisica pe mînă. “Și eu mă bucur să vă văd”, le zise ea. “Dar ce s-a intimplat?”‘ (pag.75-76)
Șapte fotografii numerotate de la 1 la 7 sunt incluse în volum. Ele au fost sursele de inspirație ale povestirilor. Pornind de la o aceeași fotografie cu numărul 5, doi dintre autorii povestirilor din volum descriu același personaj – ‘domnul cu umbrelă’ – care apare în mod misterios, îmbrăcat în costum, cu pălărie și umbrelă, într-o zi de vară fără ploaie, mergând pe strada presărată cu cadavre. Contrastul întărește atmosfera de coșmar:
‘Umbla cu haina descheiata: e cald, înăbușitor. Pe lîngă el trec femei îmbrăcate în straie de sărbătoare, deși cam ponosite – mahalagioaice, probabil. Femeile calcă cu grija și coboară din cînd în cînd privirea, ca să nu calce în bălțile de sînge de pe jos. Bărbatul le ocolește și el. Ocolește și morții întinși pe pavajul din piatră al străzii. Unul zace cu capul pe marginea bordurii de la trotuar și cu picioarele rășchirate peste linia de tramvai. Ar trebui să-l mute cineva de acolo, chiar dacă acum tramvaiul nu mai circulă. Arată mizerabil. Și cap în cap cu el, întins în direcția opusă, alt mort ocupa toată lățimea trotuarului. Două femei care merg braț la braț calcă peste el, atente să nu se murdărească pe pantofi.’ (pag.63-64, din Radu Pavel Gheo – ‘La promenadă’)
‘Bărbatul nu s-a oprit. Mersul i-a rămas aproape neschimbat: ferm și jovial, aproape elegant. Această eleganță a lui mă surprinde cel mai mult, tinind cont de circumstanțe … Totuși – o pălărie scumpă, un sacou bine croit, umbrela într-o zi fără ploaie, un capriciu?, corpul întreținut cu grija. … Nu a văzut. Nu a înțeles. Mai are timp… E foarte posibil că omul merge la înmormîntarea unui prieten, a femeii iubite, a unui om important.’ (pag. 142-143, din Tatiana Țîbuleac – ‘Trecerea’)
Indiferență și uneori complicitate – așa este descrisă atitudinea multora dintre locuitorii orașului față de masacrul al căror victime erau concetățenii lor evrei. Cum se raportează însă generațiile mai noi, inclusiv cele de astăzi la atrocitățile acelor zile? Cât se cunoaște? Care este impactul? Pentru eroina povestitoare a Tatianei Țîbuleac este vorba despre o confruntare cu istoria personală, cu secrete ascunse de generațiile precedente:
‘Am început aceasta călătorie de atîtea ori și în atitea feluri … din atîtea locuri m-am pornit cu speranța că voi găsi un răspuns sau macar o împăcare, dar de fiecare data călătoria mea s-a dovedit a fi un simplu drum.’ (pag.141)
Eroina din povestirea ‘Eu n-am făcut nimic’ a Alinei Nelega face parte dintr-o generație care nu mai are vreo legătură directa cu evenimentele. Cândva, în primii ani de după 1989, asistă la un simpozion în care sunt prezentate și discutate, după mulți ani de tăcere ‘istorică’ cele petrecute la Iași în 1941. Raportarea sa este tipică unei generații care și-a redescoperit treptat istoria, însă concluzia rămâne comodul ‘n-am făcut nimic’.
‘Iașiul era frumos în vara aia care de-abia începuse, teii din Copou erau în floare, hotelul era confortabil și mîncarea buna, programul – bine făcut: ne-au dus la degustări de vinuri într-o cramă uriașă unde ne-au plimbat cu autobuzele și ne-am împrietenit cu invitații internaționali, veseli și surprinși că România nu era doar țara orfelinatelor și a boschetarilor. Era o mică vacanță, de asta, cînd în a treia zi s-a vorbit despre răspunderea românilor în pogromul din ’41 de la Iași și cum a fost cu Mareșalul Antonescu după Dorohoi, înainte de Transnistria, cum românii ar trebui să-și asume vina de a fi măcelărit și deportat evrei, cînd se înșirau cifre și se treceau în revistă orori aritmetice, eu înregistram cuminte și cam absentă: aveam material din belșug să fonotechez și să-mi fac emisiunea cînd oi ajunge acasă. Nu mă prea atingeau vorbele lor, istoria e plină de genocide și comuniștii erau mai aproape, că doar ei au fost marii călăi, știm și noi atîta lucru, n-au trecut zilele pe lîngă noi chiar degeaba. Și pe urmă, nici masacrele n-au început cu secolul douăzeci, să nu fim naivi, fiecare popor le are pe ale lui, de la americani pină la chinezi, egipteni și alți africani.’ (pag.114-115)
Cât învățăm din istorie? Personal, mă surprind din ce în ce mai des ca făcând parte dintre pesimiști. Mă alătur de fapt unui prieten a cărui mantră (sau una dintre ele) este că ‘nu învățam nimic din istorie’. Citez din nou din povestirea Tatianei Țîbuleac:
‘În tinerețe, îmi placea să merg de sărbători acasă la familii numeroase. … La o astfel de masă am auzit odată o frază care mi-a rămas în inima – dacă ai văzut, uită, daca ai auzit, taci. Era un sfat al unui bunic către nepotul său, care tocmai obținuse primul loc de muncă și avea deja probleme cu noii colegi. Toți au ridicat cîte un pahar în cinstea acestor vorbe înțelepte, transmise din generație în generație, într-o familie de învingători. Pe atunci nu aveam copii, iar vorbele batrinului au fost pentru mine ca niste lovituri de cuțit. M-am gîndit atunci că anume cu astfel de povețe au crescut cei care au pîrît, care au întocmit liste, au ucis, au deportat oameni nevinovați. Călăii invizibili de lîngă noi, cu atît mai prețioși, întotdeauna la căutare. Astăzi însă mă gindesc ce i-aș spune fiului meu, încă mic? L-aș indemna să fie curajos și nobil, chiar dacă știu că asta îi vă aduce durere, sărăcie, izolare, sau i-aș spune și eu să-și vadă de drumul său, cum au făcut atitia alții pină la el? Să nu te oprești niciodată din drum – este și asta o cale. Încă puțin și bărbatul din fotografie va dispărea după colț. Nu-l voi mai vedea niciodată.’ (pag. 152-153)
Datoria de a nu uita, de a nu ierta, de a nu tăcea, de a înregistra și documenta evenimentele înainte ca ele să se șteargă complet din memorie, înainte că documentele să fie roase de timp, înainte ca victimele și călăii să dispară ‘după colț’ este o datorie colectivă. Volumul ‘Zece povestiri’ aduce contribuția sa în acest sens. Am lăsat la o parte analizele stilistice, dar în final țin să menționez că toate povestirile sunt frumos scrise și emoționante, încadrându-se fară dubiu în ansamblul creației fiecăruia dintre aceste scriitoare și acești scriitori reputați. ‘Zece povestiri’ este o rememorare literară de valoare, un omagiu adus victimelor Pogromului de la Iași din 1941 și o contribuție la neuitare.
Comparisons between ‘Rabbit Hole‘ (2023) and ’24’ (2001-2010) are inevitable and I have the impression that the producers of the series created by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa and produced by the Paramount+ studios did not avoid them. Kiefer Sutherland once again steps into the shoes of a hero blessed with exceptional intelligence and a strong will, who starts out as a special cases investigator only to end up being followed by the whole system – crime organizations led by high-profile villains, the secret services and all the possible agencies of justice. Forced to go underground, to run and hide permanently, the hero (named John Weir) manages not only to survive, but also to fight to bring to light the truth and prove his innocence. Kiefer is still Kiefer, but there are also many differences. ’24’ was based on a formula as simple as it was original at the time of its appearance, following the character’s actions in real time over 24 hours. The formula worked very well, as evidenced by the 9 seasons produced. ‘Rabbit Hole‘ has a mini-series structure that proposes a story adapted to the problems of the third decade and especially the power of information and the control of the population through it. The first season consisted of 8 well made episodes with a lot of action that has pace and complexity. Perhaps a bit too much complexity, which is one of the reasons a second season isn’t in the cards – at least for now.
I won’t tell too much about the story, because the twists and turns start about the third minute of the first series and continue until the last second of the final episode. I will just say that fans of political and technological thrillers as well as fans of action series have a good chance of coming away satisfied from watching the series. The story becomes quite complicated at one point and – if I had the opportunity and to whom – I would ask some questions related to the credibility of some of the scenes, but that is not that important in series of this kind. In addition to questions related to population control through digital methods and the intervention of large companies in the political life using personal data manipulation technologies, there is also plenty of time for a romantic plot, for flashbacks to unhappy childhoods, for complicated relationships between father and son or between divorced spouses. The concept tested all throughout the series is trust. In a world of shadows, where anyone can be a deadly adversary, who can the heroes trust? At one point a team of four people is formed who have every reason not to trust each other. Can the hero survive and bring the truth to light with such partners?
The story is well paced and keeps the attention awake all the time – the comparison with ’24’ works here. It really requires attention, as the narrative is interspersed with many flashbacks to different periods of time, all important in understanding the story or what the writers want us to know about what is happening. In addition to Kiefer Sutherland, I noticed very good work by a few actors who have consistent roles and appear in all or most of the episodes: Meta Golding gets the role of a woman apparently met by chance in the first scene and who will accompany the hero until the end or even after ; Charles Dance in the complex role of John Weir’s father who practices the same dangerous profession, being a partner but maybe also an enemy, because in the world in which the two operate, no one can trust anyone; Walt Klink – a talented young Dutch actor in a very interesting role as a hitman just out of adolescence, a character that would deserve his own series. As it happens in many TV series, the final episode is different from the others. The building of tension accelerates towards a complex final scene in which the fate of American democracy is at stake. The resolution has to be compelling enough to resolve at least some of the main threads and also leave enough open issues and heroes alive for a season to come. I wasn’t completely satisfied with the solution the script authors provided, but I was still curious enough to wish for a second season, maybe more. The potential and the premises are here. As things stand now, however, a continuation is not in the plans. What a pity.
‘Murder by Death‘ (1976) proves that the genre of films with a cast composed exclusively or mainly of first-rate Hollywood stars was not invented by Wes Anderson. Alec Guinness, Peter Sellers, David Niven, Peter Falk, Maggie Smith and writer Truman Capote appear in the cast of this film. The script is written by Neil Simon, a very popular playwright and screenwriter, who has often, but not in this case, written scripts that brought his plays to the screen. The direction belongs to Robert Moore, known especially as a TV director, for whom ‘Murder by Death‘ was the first feature film (he would make two more). Perhaps a little intimidated by the caliber of the actors he was mentoring, he let them do what they wanted. It kind of feels, because not everything that works for the theater and TV comedies of those years looks as good on the big screen. I found ‘Murder by Death‘ to be a parody that shows its age and a film that proves that sometimes 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 equals less than 5. The film deserves to be seen today especially for the unique gathering of talents assembled in the same distribution.
The setting of the story is typical of the novels of Agatha Christie, one of the several writers parodied in this story. 5 famous detectives are invited to the Dracula castle-like residence of the wealthy Lionel Twain. The 5 are parodies of famous characters from the books of Agatha Christie and other popular authors of detective novels and films inspired by these books. The reception that awaits them is bizarre: at the entrance they are subjected to a kind of survival test, the person who receives them is a blind butler, and the cook is deaf-mute and illiterate. Outside a thunderstorm breaks, metal bars enclose the building in which the guests have become in effect prisoners. The host informs them that there will be a murder and that the one of the famous detectives who solves it will receive a million dollars. The phenomena that happen are increasingly bizarre and towards midnight the corpse also appears. Who could be the criminal? Any of the detectives? taking into account someone else isn’t really around. As in many detective novels, it appears that all of them had reasons to commit the crime. Not like in detective novels, however, the detectives turn out to be not quite as skilled as they were famous for.
The story – an apparent ‘whodunit’ – is supposed to be the premise for a series of comic gags, and that was probably the intention of the authors. They didn’t really succeed. The story is too convoluted to even be interesting. The time that has passed, almost 50 years, since the release of the film, is probably also to blame. But still, the genre is not completely exhausted, proof are the recent screen adaptations of Agatha Christie’s novels signed by Kenneth Branagh, which, at least I liked. An obvious problem seemed to me to be the setting, which in such a film must create the effect of tension, combined with a comedy elements. At no point did I feel the tension, the effect of rooms that are sometimes empty, sometimes full of people, is completely missed, and I could not familiarize myself with the topography. For these reasons almost none of the situational humor worked. This leaves the audience to enjoy the humor in the text, which, however, is more of a theatrical device than a cinematic one. Of course, we remain with the interpretations. The role I enjoyed the most was that of Alec Guinness (the blind butler), the only actor in the cast who could have included the role on his resume. At the other extreme was Peter Sellers, whose Chinese detective forced to wear a kind of mask for most of the film and speak in a high-pitched voice seemed to me too shrill to be truly comical. Truman Capote, in his only role in a feature film, plays one of his own would-be characters and the effect is successful. If ‘Murder by Death‘ had been a filmed theatrical performance, many of these shortcomings could probably have been overlooked. As a film, it remains memorable by the bringing together of several very popular and high-calibre actors plus Truman Capote, but in the perspective of 48 years since its release, that is no longer enough.
‘El reino‘ is the original title of Spanish director Rodrigo Sorogoyen‘s film, which dominated the Goya Awards ceremony for films made in 2018. The title translates as ‘The Kingdom‘ and I believe that its meaning is important, although it was translated differently (and incorrectly ) in the English-speaking market. We are dealing in this film with the collapse of a kingdom and the disintegration of its moral and legal order. The kingdom is the life and world of Manuel López-Vidal, a corrupt politician from one of Spain’s provinces. ‘El reino‘ is a well-written and interestingly made political thriller, but which seems to lack the ambition to be more than that.
Manuel, the main hero of ‘El reino‘ is a local politicians who seems to have reached success. In public life, he is a municipal councilor and the approvals of important projects financed by European funds depend on him. In his private life he is surrounded by a loving family and friends who seem to belong to the same class, leading a life of luxury: yachts, villa decorated with modern art, elegant restaurants. The whole system seems to belong to him or work in his favor: the municipal officials, the press, the lawyers, the other politicians, they all seem to be beholden to each other. However, when an investigation related to the use of European funds is launched, it is enough for a single crack to appear in this apparently stone-solid edifice (a witness, a recording) for the entire scaffolding to begin to fall apart. Manuel will be abandoned by one after another of his party colleagues, his business associates whom he considered friends turn their backs and do not answer calls, and will also have to send his family abroad to shelter them from the scandal. His ‘kingdom’ collapses within days. Manuel is a fighter, however, and will not hesitate to use any means – relations with television, collaboration with investigators, burglaries to steal documents, blackmailing party bosses – to save something from the fall.
I already saw at work together film director Rodrigo Sorogoyen and actor Antonio de la Torre in their previous film ‘Que dios nos perdone’, an excellent psychological thriller inspired by the life and work of two police investigators. ‘El reino‘ is also a thriller inspired by life in Spain today, but the focus here is on the political aspects. From a cinematographic point of view, the film is very well made. Alejandro de Pablo‘s cinematography, often with the camera on his shoulders behind the hero, walks us through the corridors of political power and of the investigative services buildings, or accompanies Manuel López-Vidal on luxury yachts or in his forays into darker places. Olivier Arson‘s music makes generous use of electronic effects to emphasize moments of tension. Antonio de la Torre is an excellent actor and well for this kind of role. And yet I left the viewing with the feeling that this political thriller could have offered more. Perhaps the problem is the main character who never breaks out of the pattern of a corrupt political scumbag, who when in trouble is capable of anything to save his own skin. Unlike the director’s previous film, the psychological depth and the surprises are missing. I was waiting for some twist that would show us a more human side of the character, remorse, acceptance of responsibility. It’s not happening. Maybe this is how people in this category are in reality. And sometimes in movies too, or at least in this movie.
Horror in Bucharest! I was born and raised in Bucharest, on the streets and among the buildings where the story in the thriller ‘Watcher‘ (2022), the debut feature film of director Chloe Okuno, takes place. I can’t feel towards this city the emotion of walking in an unknown place that is hiding mysteries and dangers, which is one of the basic premises of this film located between psychological thriller and horror. I can, on the other hand, remember my feelings when I first found myself in places like New York or Chicago. In addition, being fluent in Romanian, I was also losing the effects of the stylistic exercise of the film director who decided not to subtitle the dialogues in Romanian, which represents about half of the dialogues in the film. And yet this simple and effective production, somewhere between Hitchcock and Polanski’s films from the American period of his career, with elements of ‘Lost in Translation’ gave me enough reasons to be glued to my seat and follow the story to the end.
Julia, the heroine in ‘Watcher‘, is a young actress who abandons her career, at least for a while, to accompany her husband, Francis, who got an important job in Bucharest, important enough to keep him busy and away from her most of the days. They are living in an apartment in a building in the busy center of Bucharest. Unlike her husband who speaks Romanian learned from his Romania-born mother, Julia does not speak the language. The city seems foreign and a little hostile to her, and the woman begins to spend much of her time indoors, looking out the window. After a while she notices that a man seemed to be constantly watching her from one of the windows in the front building. Moreover, it seems to her that this man is following her, because she meets him on the streets, in shops, in the subway, at a cinema showing ‘Charade’, Stanley Donen’s classic film in which a woman, played by Audrey Hepburn, is being chased through the streets of Paris. But maybe that man has the same feeling? At some point it is no longer clear who is the pursued and who is the pursuer, who is the observer and who is the observed. Tensions rise when Julie and Francis learn that a serial killer is at work in the neighborhood, killing young women. The relationship between the two young people also begins to be influenced.
The story advances slowly and it is clear the author’s intention to gradually and patiently build the tension and emphasize the psychological aspects. The two main characters are Julia and the City. The young woman is played by Maika Monroe, a good casting for this kind of role. The other roles are more schematic and less generous. The look of the film is created by the film director together with the Danish cinematographer Benjamin Kirk Nielsen, who is also working on his first feature film. The two work very well together, building the image of an unsettling, rainy and cold Bucharest, with many dark gangs, dangerous corners, mysterious windows. Carefully designed lighting and camera angles create a sense of danger even in the rather mundane corridors and apartments where much of the story happens. I apreciate the achievement, especially since for me the atmosphere is familiar and many of the streets or buildings where the scenes take place are known to me. The film is spoken in English and Romanian, without subtitles, which probably accentuates the unknown and makes it easier for most viewers to resonate with the main heroine’s feelings. All the actors apart from the three lead characters (Francis, Julia and the man who follows her) are Romanian and the whole film is shot on location in Bucharest. The final horror part comes as a logical conclusion of the story, but perhaps there was no need for explicit scenes here either. What is actually scarier than what we can imagine? Chloe Okuno debuts with a film remarkable for the economy of cinematic means and the balanced use of well-learned lessons. A film director worth following in the future.
‘C’è ancora domani‘ (2023 – English title is ‘There Is Still Tomorrow‘) is a directorial debut but it does not look at all like one. It can be said that it is also an author’s film, because the director is also the co-author of the script and also undertakes the main role. Paola Cortellesi is in Italy a household name, actress and singer, nominated and winner of numerous awards, especially as a singer. With this film, feminist plea and homage to post-war Italian neorealism, Paola Cortellesi has a good chance to add some new awards in other categories. The film is already the biggest box-office success of Italian cinema since the pandemic.
Delia and Ivano are a poor couple in Rome in the years after World War II. Italy is occupied by American troops. Hope can be felt in the air after the defeat of fascism. The first democratic elections are approaching, but the economic conditions are very difficult. Ivano works, but the couple needs to take care of a sick father and three children, of which Marcella, the eldest daughter, is approaching the age of marriage. Marcella (at the cost of dropping out of school) and Delia are forced to work to supplement their income. They are not a happy family. Delia’s efforts are not appreciated by Ivano, a violent and vulgar man who becomes even more dangerous when he gets drunk. When Marcella is about to get engaged to the son of a rich cake shop owner, things seem to be looking up, but is this boy the right choice? Isn’t Marcella also at risk of being chained into a marriage dominated by a controlling man? Delia dreams of running away, perhaps with Nino, the unfulfilled love of her youth. The meeting with an American soldier who, despite the language barrier, understands her and agrees to help her at a critical moment, as well as the advice and complicity of a friend seem to hasten the moment of liberation. But fate also has something to say.
The opening scene already tells us that we are dealing with a special film. Paola Cortellesi shoots in black and white, which is obviously a hommage to American neorealist cinema. The streetscape, the interior of the houses, the clothing of the characters are accurately reconstructed. And yet, from time to time, the rhythm of the story is broken by directorial interventions that want to be as visible as possible: slow-motion footage; dance or mime scenes in which the feelings of the characters and the relationships between them are expressed through the expressions of human bodies and not through dialogues; finally the soundtrack in which are interspersed songs completely out of sync with the era, from light Italian music to new contemporary hip hop. This last trick is the most debatable: it certainly makes the film more interesting, but it seems to put directorial concept in the foreground. Such a decision is dangerous in a melodrama, be it a social one, because it risks killing the emotion. The actors fulfill their missions precisely, starting with Paola Cortellesi in the lead role, continuing with Valerio Mastandrea in the unsavory role of Ivano and Romana Maggiora Vergano who is beautiful and expressive in the role of Marcella. The ending places the whole story in a larger context, which of course will please all feminists – women and men, myself included. This meeting between neorealism and hip hop results in one of the most interesting European films of 2023, a film that we may meet again in the awards season of 2024.
‘Killers of the Flower Moon‘ and other of Martin Scorsese‘s latest creations remind me of Alfred Hitchcock’s late career films. That last period lasted about 12 years for Hitchcock, during which he made 6 films. I hope that Scorsese will also be blessed with a long and productive life from here on out and that we will see more movies after ‘Killers of the Flower Moon‘. Both directors have already earned their place of honor in the Pantheon of the art of cinema. Scorsese now, like Hitchcock after 1964, has nothing left to prove and in his case – unlike Hitchcock – no statuette that he has not yet held in his hand to win. He can make whatever movies he wants and get any funding for his projects. What he chooses to do is his decision alone. The similarities do not end here. In ‘Killers of the Flower Moon‘ we can see an episode of attempted murder by poisoning and even a scene with the glass into which poison is poured shot in full shot, a scene that seems to be a direct homage to Hitchcock. And yes, Scorsese also has a cameo appearance, as the master of suspense had in most of his films. What Scorsese chooses to do is to revisit some of his favorite themes from previous films – the gangster families with the rules and codes that kept them together, the connection between American history and organized crime and the history of the FBI. But all these serve a judicial idea – bringing to light a tragic episode of the fate of the Amero-Indian Osage tribe, which took place in the previous century, in the 20s. Scorsese does one more thing that was highly commented by the viewers who saw the film and the critics who wrote about it. He doesn’t look at the clock. ‘Killers of the Flower Moon‘ is an epic that runs for almost three and a half hours, which is an hour longer than the recent – already long – standard for Hollywood films. For me these 210 minutes went by faster, more intensely and more rewardingly than 100 minutes in many other films, but from what I’ve read, many viewers had a different opinion, gave up watching before the end or if they resisted, they criticized.
The story of ‘Killers of the Flower Moon‘ has the premises of a classic western. Whites and the descendants of the native inhabitants of North America are fighting for a piece of land full of resources. The fight is bloody and unequal, every possible method is used and the end is known from the history books. In this case it is about a true episode described in David Grann’s documentary book that inspired the film script. In the second decade of the last century, huge oil deposits were discovered in Oklahoma. Some of the unfriendly lands beneath the oil, however, belonged to the Osage Indian tribe, who had been relocated here some time ago from their ancestral lands. The Osage Indians in that area became overnight the US inhabitants with the highest per capita income. The desire to get rich quick in this oil-based El Dorado attracted tradesmen, adventurers and criminals, some of them returning from the fronts of the WWI. Among them was Ernest Burkhart, who settled with his brother or on the farm of their uncle, William King Hale, the owner of a huge ranch. The two brothers became participants in a complex plan to dispossess the Indians through various methods, from marriages with tribal women and banking control of the Indians’ wealth to assassinations, also including alcohol intoxication and food poisoning (the Indians were predisposed, genetically and due to differences in traditional diets to diabetes and other diseases) or plain poisoning. Ernest will marry Molly, a beautiful and intelligent Osage woman. Everything happens under the tutelage of ‘King’ Hale who acts as a patron and friend of the tribe (learns the language and customs, participates in their events) and in parallel plans and orders the execution of criminal plans. When private investigators and the federal government begin to take an interest in the series of mysterious deaths, the relations between the two conflicting societies and the marriage and love story between Ernest and Molly are put to the test. The investigation of these murders and the trial that followed were the subject of the first major public case of the newly formed FBI under J.Edgar Hoover (whom Leonardo DiCaprio had played in Clint Eastwood’s 2011 ‘Edgar’).
To place the Oklahoma conflict in an American historical context, Martin Scorsese uses archival news clips. In a ‘film within film’ scene, some of the characters watch footage of the racial incidents and the Tulsa massacre in 1921. The clear intention is to show that discrimination against black and Indian populations, at that time and in American history in general, are similar phenomena, which must be equally considered. The film tries to be authentic and very respectful of the Osage culture. Some of the dialogues are conducted in this language, which had also been learned and used by whites in family relationships and everyday interaction during that period. Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert De Niro shine as always under Scorsese‘s guidance and deliver two exceptional roles. The trio is completed by Lily Gladstone, as a Molly full of wisdom and dignity. The impossible love and hate story between Ernest and Molly works and moves mostly because of the actors. A few familiar faces such as Jesse Plemons, Scott Shepherd and John Lithgow also appear part of a large and excellently directed cast, where each small or supporting role seems to be a colorful and functional piece in a constantly moving ensemble. Editing plays an important role and the narrative has a good pace, how strange it seems to say such a thing for a 3 and a half hour film. The composition of the images is often memorable, both in the scenes where the mobile camera walks us in long shots through Hale’s domain, and due to the lighting that dramatically highlights the characters, in the style of the Caravaggio paintings. ‘Killers of the Flower Moon‘ is a saga about the disappearance of a world destroyed by human greed with the complicity of the system. Even though justice was partially served by the legal system, history has been unkind to the Osage tribe. The criminals got out of prison and lived for many years afterwards. Ernest Bruckhart outlived Molly, who succumbed to diabetes at the age of 50, by almost half a century. The book and now Scorsese‘s film do a great job in making the historical record straight.
