Certified Copy evokes and pays tribute to many great films, directors

Obviously many have compared Abbas Kaiarostami's (had to look up his name) Certified Copy (2010) with the new wave films of confused identity and mysterious narration within a seemingly realistic narrative vocabulary, e.g., Hiroshima, Mon Amour and Last Year in Marienbad. In Certified Copy, an English author is delivering a lecture in Tuscany about his new book, in which he argues that copies of great works of art have their own intrinsic value and one might just as well purchase a good copy as an original - the only value the original holds is fetishistic, it's no better in and of itself as a work of art. During his lecture, a 40ish woman, Binoche, enters with her preteen sign, quite disruptively. At her invite, he meets Binoche the next day at her antique store (though she believes they share an interest in antique originals, he says he's not interested in them at all); the decide to spend the day together and drive out to another Tuscan town - it seems like an obvious pickup, but they don't flirt in any obvious way, rather engage in lengthy discussion about art and life, and at this point the movie feels very "European" and obviously evokes Rohmer and perhaps the My Dinner with Andre, a long and oddly adversarial conversation, but in this case between two (apparent) strangers. When they visit a cafe where the owners assume they are a married couple, Binoche begins to play along with this assumption - and she gets the guy, an actor named Shimmel? (playing James Miller) who's very good here and also in a small part in the recent L'Amour and a multilingual artist/intellectual (in both movies) to go along with this - and their pretending to be a squabbling married couple becomes a game and way of being unto itself - leading to tears, to bitter arguments and scenes, including one memorably in an near-empty restaurant: so why are they playing this game? In another evocation, this behavior recalls the bitter role playing of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf - except with this difference: there's a hint that perhaps they're not playing at all, or only partially playing - that they might have a past together - and the play-acting is not occurring in the second half of the film but in the first, when they seem not to know each other (hard as that is to accept realistically). In either case, we know nothing about his back story and little about hers - we don't know who her son's father is and whether either is married and if not why not, as they're both smart and attractive and well off - though Binoche seems and looks a bit nutty and off-kilter. She's great in this multilingual role by the way - and there are some wonderfully odd scenes in this movie, including a visit to a wedding chapel with the newlyweds want Binoche and James  to pose for photographs with them, and a conversation at a fountain with two folks who look down and out but turn out to be great art enthusiasts, and the guy offers sage advice to Miller. These scenes are a tribute of course to the greatest of all Italian directors, wit their odd and oblique humor and unsettling randomness. Need I say who?

One of the best presentations of a young relationship under stress: The Loneliest Planet

This movie is definitely not for everybody but both M and I were very taken by it and I would consider it almost unique in its qualities and one of the strongest, most believable presentations of a young relationship under stress that I've ever seen on film. The Loneliest Planet, a Sundance speical that has received almost no attention and stars only one well-known actor (Bernal) is essentially a three-person movie: a young North American couple - she's apparently from the U.S., he is a native Spanish speaker but no given nationality - traveling in the Republic of Georgia, hire a local guide and the three set off on a backpacking trip into the Georgian mountains. We know virtually nothing about the couple; all we know of their back story is that she is 30, they are engaged to be married in a few months, they have evidently done a lot of Third World travelling. We don't know what they do for a living, how they met, what brought them to Georgia (seems to be a part of a lengthy journey). We know nothing about the guide they hire either - at first - though in a scene near the end of the movie he tells the girl, Mica, a lot about the course of his life. Essentially, though, this is as close to documentary realism as a film can get: the characters don't expound on their back stories because that's just a narrative device; they live their lives, over the course of a few days, and we learn what one can learn through observations about their behavior and through bits and pieces of dialogue. There is almost no action at all in the film - except for one very dramatic short scene, and the entire film hinges on that scene and its aftermath. Incredibly well conveyed, scripted, and acted - apparently based on a short story by an author not well known (to me at least) - and I give the filmmaker - Latkov? - a lot of credit because this material is not in any way obviously cinematic. I've said there are essentially three characters, but the 4th and perhaps major character is the landscape itself. The movie in many ways is about how the landscape through which they hike forms, shapes, changes the relationships among the characters. There are some incredibly beautiful long, still takes of open landscape, mountains and escarpments and such, during which we watch the three hikers slowly trek across the screen - as beautiful as an abstract painting, but important to the cinema and the narrative as well helping us to understand the physical isolation of these characters, from others and from one another, and the challenges they are facing, physical and emotional. I'm checking right now to see the name of the director and of the woman who plays the girl, Mica, to give them both their due: director/writer Julia Loktev, actor Hani Furstenberg, author of story Tom Bissell. Excellent movie.

What are Frank Underwood's ambitions?: House of Cards

Spoilers here: The Netflix series House of Cards (2013) continues to hold my interest despite its uneven pace; now through episode 8 (of 13). A number of differences between this and the British original with Sir Ian Richardson, from the 1990s, three of which are striking: much stronger role for the politician (Rep Frank Underwood)'s wife, played very well by the ice-cold Robin Wright; somewhat less of a prominent role for the young journalist, Zoe Barnes, played very well by the very well-cast Kate Mara; and actually less of a politically ambitious and manipulative role for Underwood himself, played by the always excellent Kevin Spacey. The journalist doesn't even appear in episode 8; in the British original Richardson creatively used and manipulated the journalist to plant stories in the press that advanced his personal ambitions - that's much less a driving force here; Undersood/Spacey achieves his goals through his own machinations, as well as through some sleazy dealings with campaign contributors on the part of his wife. There's a pretty elaborate subplot about Congressman in recovery running for the governorship of Pa., but it's not entirely clear that this campaign is really necessary to Underwood's success. Most striking of all in the series is the absolute utter lack of sexual sparks or passion between Underwood and wife Claire or between Underwood and journalist Zoe - these are the most nonsexual sex scenes I've ever seen. In episode 8, we get the key to that mystery, as Underwood, drunk, makes a serious pass at one his old college buddies - a bit of Brokeback Mountain here, but in this case his wife is obviously in the know and tolerant of his alliances, as his public position advances her career and leaves her free for an affair with an insipid British photographer whose work obviously echoes the great Sebastio Salgado but in a cliched and melodramatic way - glorying in the suffering of oppressed people, it seems. The series would be stronger if Underwood's ambitions were more scripted and developed; in the British, it was clear that Richardson wanted to be PM - they writers there had the advantage of a Parliamentary system, where ascension doesn't require the same sort of national campaign that takes years to develop in the U.S. Underwood seems to want to be Speaker, which makes sense - you need only the votes of your caucus  - but he doesn't really focus on this so at times he seems just like any member reasonably powerful of Congress rather than like an extremely conniving, manipulative, even corrupt member of the club.

Really strange people in this world: The Imposter

It's by no means a great film, but the recent (2012?) documentary The Imposter will keep you thinking and will stay with you after the film is over, as the incident it examines is full of mystery and unanswered questions. Briefly: in about 1994 a 14-year-old boy disappears from his Texas family and is never found and presumed dead; in 1997, a boy turns up in France who claims to be this Texas kid, and the authorities send him back to the family. He claims to have no memory of his childhood etc., but the family takes him in - even though it's increasingly obvious that the kid is an imposter. That's all I'll give away, but suffice it to say that by the end of the movie you feel that everyone involved is guilty of something, stupidity and gullibility at the very least and possibly much worse. The filmmakers to a good job in telling the story, but I have to say as a documentary it's pretty thin gruel: everything in the movie except contemporary interviews with three of the family members is recreated or, in a few brief instances, pulled from news video. I know this is the documentary style pioneered by The Thin Blue Line, but with so many recent documentaries doing great work with uncovered old footage and video, this movie feels a little quaint and old-fashioned, not as vivid and real as some recent great ones such as the unforgettable Sundance series The Staircase. Worth seeing anyway for its provocative value - there are really strange people in this world, as The Imposter makes clear.

Uneven but compelling House of Cards

The much-touted Netflix series House of Cards, based on first 4 (of 13) episodes is, let's say, uneven and rarely as good as the 1990s British original. Still, it's appealing to see the series in a contemporary (and American) setting, where many of the elements make a lot of sense and transplant well to DC and to 2013: use of text messages to convey info and flirtation between the Senator (Kevin Spacey) and the eager young reporter, Zoe Barnes (Mara), working for what's obviously meant to be the Post; the issue of the changing newsroom in the world of social media, and the machinations of the U.S Congress. The strengths of the series so far are Spacey's excellent performance as a Southern House leader, perfectly coniving and smarmy and manipulative, and his asides are delicious moments, almost Shakespearean (as in the original). One great addition is the much more important role of Spacey's wife, Robin Wright (?), who is awesome even scary as a Washington power-elite spouse running a foundation that's really all about her and her ego and that clearly thrives thanks to questionable donations from those seeking favor with her husband. She's ice cold and brutal. Mara, with her huge eyes and childish mannerisms, which mask a ruthless even reckless ambition, is really good, too. The weaknesses are some of the mechanics of the plotting and the script, which vary by episode. For all its purported knowledge of insider Washington, some of the mechanics seem just totally wrong - e.g., the president's chief of staff telling Spacey that he won't get a Cabinet post, the gathering of forces to write an education bill, the Byzantine plan to oust the speaker - all these are maybe slightly plausible but feel less sure-footed than the newspaper, the nonprofit, and the domestic scenes. Spacey's trip back to S.C. to deal with district issues in episode 3, however, is entirely ridiculous start to finish: surely they could have come up with a much more credible district issue than a threatened lawsuit from parents of a girl who died in a car crash while texting, with only the most dubious of claims against Rep. Spacey. Quibbles aside, like theBritish original, the Netflix Cards keeps drawing me back, curious about how these people will ruin one another.

The many mysteries of Rodriguez - Searching for Sugar Man

No doubt Malik Bandjelloul's Searching for Sugar Man will win an Academy Award as best documentary of the year, and deservedly, as this is a totally fascinating story about art and culture and commerce and personality and American cities, and a very difficult project to bring about I think. There are in effect three time points, and, with very limited archival footage, B. has to tell this story with contemporary footage - which he manages to do without making it seem as if the movie is all about talking heads (as many documentaries are). Narrative line in brief: in 1970 a couple of Detroit music producers discovered in a dive bar a singer-songwriter so shy that he performed with his back to the audience; he was more or less a street person, had a beautiful voice and wrote interesting lyrics that the producers compare with Dylan. They sign him, he cuts two albums, each reviewed well, but no sales, and the record label drops him - and then the singer, Rodriguez, drops out of sight entirely, never records again. As it happens, for some reason hard to explain, his music gets discovered in then Apartheid and brutally autocratic South Africa where Rodriguez becomes a sensation, selling half-a-million albums. SA youth continue to buy his music and revere his few songs over the next two decades - and mysterious stories about Rodriguez make the rounds - it's generally believed that in despair he killed himself during a concert performance. In about 1998, two SA guys, a rock writer and record-store owner, begin to try to find out what really happened to Rodriguez; with some detective work and with queries on line (this was way before Facebook and other tools that make this kind of search much easier today), they learn that R. was still alive, working in construction in Detroit. They bring him to SA where he does a series of sold-out concerts, TV appearances, etc. In a way, that's the end of the story, but as noted there's very little footage; Bandj. puts the doc together by interviewing all the principals, including R's three very nice and lovely daughter and R. himself, living today in rundown tenement in Detroit, still working construction, looking and sounding quite the worse for wear, but very modest and not at all bitter about the industry. Apparently the movie has given his career a 2nd revival. We're left still with a # of mysteries, as with all excellent documentaries: If he was really so great, why was he never played in the US? Well, he wasn't really that great - during that era there were dozens of artists touted as the the next, the black, the female Bob Dylan - Dylan opened the way for singer-songwriters in the rock era, but none of the dozens of others rose to his level, and though some have had long careers, most went off into obscurity or playing churches and coffee houses. Moreover, I think the production of his albums was horrible - way over-orchestrated and completely out of the spirit of the kind of music R. was creating. Why South Africa? There are many such instances, of a singer or writer catching on with one particular culture for one reason or another - but this success seems to be part of the censorship in SA (few others got through maybe) and perhaps the softer lyrics and orchestration seemed more palatable and reassuring against the brutality of times? Where did the $ go? R. got no royalties from SA, obviously - suggestion that his US producers stole the $, or that royalties were never sent. What's R. really like? It's so odd that he's capitalized so little on his talent and his world success, we suspect there may be some personality disorder of substance-abuse issue - or maybe he's just a unique sole - we don't learn that much about how he is today, and maybe that mystery should remain.