In terms of plot, Dhanush's Raayan (which he has directed himself) is a fairly standard mainstream action movie. A B&W prologue establishes that the lead character Kathavaraayan aka Raayan, after the disappearance of his parents, becomes responsible for his younger siblings - two boys and an infant girl - and will go to any lengths to protect them.
The boy grows up to be Dhanush, who runs a food stall and conceals his toughness under a meek exterior (but he still has a reputation for being a badass). His brothers Muthuvel and Manickavel (Sundeep Kishan and Kalidas Jayaram) are more reckless and frequently get into scrapes. The sister Durga (Dushara Vijayan) is the apple of Raayan's eye, and he is closer to her than the brothers. They have a father-figure in Sekhar (Selvaraghavan) who'd helped Raayan out after he escaped from his village as a child with his siblings.
The main plot is driven by a devious police commissioner (Prakash Raj, stereotyped but effective) that engineers a quarrel between local dons Durai and Sethu (Saravanan and SJ Suryah) with the idea of eliminating them both. One of Dhanush's brothers gets somehow implicated in this quarrel. To protect the family, especially the sister scheduled to be married, Dhanush has to kill one of the dons. This sets into motion a second set of events, one that tears the family apart, and ignites a trail of bloody vengeance.
Raayan's script is a mixed bag: on one hand it's filled with the usual cliches and eye-rolling contrivances of a star-driven film, but on the other, it explores nuances not normally seen in mainstream masala. The dynamics between the brothers, and the transformation of the hitherto pampered sister into an avenging angel justifying her name infuses freshness into the stereotypes - Dushara Vijayan in the film's second half is a revelation - the scene where Durga fends off an attack by goons on a mortally wounded Raayan is nail-biting, and she becomes the main driving force of the vendetta. One applauds Dhanush for permitting her to overshadow his own character. Even the shading of the bad guys is interesting - there's some wicked humor courtesy Suryah's Sethu getting buffeted between his two wives.
There is also some serious visual chutzpah on display, especially in the action scenes and the choreographed festive number that comes late in the film. Om Prakash's cinematography uses overhead tracking shots, slow motion and colors in spectacular ways. If Raayan's script had lesser concessions to 'mass' pandering this could have been an amazing masala movie. But it still has several moments of interest, per se.
The legend of the 47 Ronin is one of the most celebrated in Japanese history. Briefly, after their master Lord Asano is forced by decree to commit sepukku / hara-kiri as penance for an altercation in the Shogun's court, the warriors of Ako castle plotted and carried out revenge against the person they held responsible for the altercation. By this action they also registered their protest against the Shogunate for its wrongful verdict. Interpreted as a symbol of adherence to the Samurai honor code and extrapolated to patriotic fervor, the story has had countless adaptations in Japanese popular culture including at least half a dozen film versions, some by celebrated makers like Kenzi Mizoguchi (Ugetsu, Sansho the Bailiff) and Hiroshi Inagaki (Samurai trilogy). I haven't seen any of these previous films, and if the idea of Mizoguchi, known more for his feminist melodramas, making a Samurai vendetta flick seems somewhat preposterous (it's like if Douglas Sirk made The Dirty Dozen or Kamal Amrohi made Sholay) one can take comfort in knowing that this was also the opinion expressed by Akira Kurosawa (interestingly enough Kurosawa himself never undertook to adapt this tale).
Kinji Fukasaku (Battle Royale), who was invited by Toei Company to make Fall of Ako Castle (FoAK) was also an odd choice for this prestige production.While he has worked multiple genres, Fukasaku is best known for his low-budget contemporary chaotic Yakuza dramas like Battles without Honor and Humanity (which spawned a series), Graveyard of Honor and Yakuza Graveyard. His protagonists come from the dark edges of society - violent gangsters, deranged cops, prostitutes and molls. His crime flicks are shot in a jagged cinema vérité style, with unbridled emotional energy and lots of handheld camera movement.
FoAK is only the second jidaigeki (period drama) in Fukasaku's career. It is certainly amusing to see characters in the opening of a Fukasaku film swaddled in ornate kimonos, adhering to the courtly etiquette of 18th century Japan. Lord Asano (Teruhiko Saigo) is seen to attack the influential courtier Lord Kira (Nobuo Kaneko) after the latter insults him. Although he only wounds the man, the display of violence in the royal court is a shameful affair. As per the royal decree, Lord Asano must kill himself, and his clan is ordered to be disbanded, leaving his loyal retainers leaderless.
Furious at the forced suicide of their master, the Ako clan warriors led by chief retainer Oishi (Yorozuya Kinosuke) wish to kill Lord Kira. But the latter, after being relived of his duties - in itself, an admission by the Shogunate of the one-sidedness of its verdict - lives in a protected citadel with his spies constantly monitoring Ako castle. Oishi instructs the clan members to lay low, pretending to accept the Shogun's verdict, till the time is right for action.
It is nearly two years before the moment comes. During this period, the Ako clan members become ronin (clan-deprived warriors), struggling to fend for their families, while Oishi seems to sink into debauchery. South East Asian film expert Tony Rayns in his video essay for FoAK states that in this while, the clan eroded from an original 600 members to the final number of the legend. Fukasaku personifies this in the character of an ex-Ako warrior whose belief in the cause fails after he suffers humiliating penury where his wife must sell her body to support the family. Sonny Chiba plays another Ako-ite who remains loyal to the clan and shows his mettle in the final revenge, while Toshiro Mifune makes an appearance as a warlord sympathetic to the Ako cause. Non-Japanese viewers only familiar with Chiba and Mifune's names may be disappointed to find that they have limited screen time (adding all his footage, Mifune probably has less than 2 min).
At long last, Oishi gives the call for revenge, and the remaining squad of Ako loyalists launch a full-scale raid on Lord Kira's stronghold. After they fulfill their mission, they surrender to the Shogunate which, in tacit sympathy with their honor code, does not order for their execution; instead, it permits them to commit honorable ritual suicide. Their bodies were later buried with that of their late lord in Sengaku-ji temple, where they are still commemorated.
FoAK has the pedigree of a bonafide epic (aided in no small measure by the cinematography of Yoshio Miyajima, who worked on several of Masaki Kobayashi's classic films), but somewhere in all the grandeur, its soul gets stifled. Not that the film is devoid of good moments - the panic of the Ako retinue outside the palace wanting to know the fate of their master, the initial failed attempt to assassinate Lord Kira, the relentless climactic assault are rendered with Fukasaku's trademark vitality. The fate of the Samurai whose life and faith crumble to circumstances during the terrible waiting period also generate empathy. But the political drama is stuffy, and the majority of characters are overly familiar archetypes whose actions and fate fail to engage us. This lack of grip means that nearly 160 min runtime hangs heavy, and I found my attention repeatedly wandering. Your mileage may vary.
The film is presented as part of Eureka's prestigious Masters of Cinema series. The back cover simply says "Presented in 1080p HD from a restoration of the original film elements by Toei [Studios]", but this is a handsome video presentation with lush colors and filmic texture. There may be a slight green tint, as often seen in vintage Japanese movies, which may be endemic to the source. The lossless Japanese mono audio is strong in terms of dialog, sound effects and the eclectic score (Toshiaki Tsushima). On-disc extras include a video essay by Japanese film expert Jasper Sharp, but what I loved was Tony Rayns' supplement, which is a masterclass on the true history of the 47 Ronin legend and the multiple adaptations of it in theater and cinema. The included booklet features an essay by Jonathan Clements, which talks about the disagreement between Fukasaku and lead star Kinnosuke, which may have led to the tonal discrepancies in the film. The cover features vintage poster art on the reverse side. While the film was not entirely satisfactory to me, this blu-ray release is highly recommended to people who are already fans or want to check it out.
Based on a story by the famous Russian author Alexander Pushkin, 1949's The Queen of Spades (QoS) is a fabulist melodrama on the themes of want and greed. When the Russian captain Suvorin (Anton Walbrook) visits the clubs where women and wine are aplenty, and games of chance are played, he himself refrains from gambling. Unlike his rich royalty-descended fellow-soldiers, he must scrimp and save for his future. In his own words he cannot afford to 'risk the necessary for the lure of the superfluous'.
In a tome purchased from a rather sinister (one could say Mephistophilean) bookseller, he learns the story of a certain countess Ranevskaya (Dame Edith Evans), who after selling her soul to the devil, obtains the secret of winning at cards. He becomes obsessed with extracting the secret from the Countess, now aged and crippled, yet still a strong-willed dominating woman (and looking rather like a Queen of Spades). He decides to make his way to the Countess by seducing her ward Lizaveta (Yvonne Mitchell). Liza is an innocent, bullied by the Countess who uses her as a lady's maid, and not wise to the ways of wily men. She succumbs to Suvorin's (copied) passionate love messages and secretively admits him into the house.
Suvorin instead makes his way to the Countess' room, to beg her to tell him the secret. He first offers to take her sin upon his head, then threatens her with his pistol. The countess falls dead from fear, and a frazzled Suvorin runs to Liza's room where he confesses all. Disgusted to learn the true motives for his 'passion' and his role in the Countess' death, Liza asks him to get out of the house and her life.
Later, Suvorin gets (or imagines?) a visitation from the dead Countess, who gives him the secret of the winning cards (Three...Seven...Ace), on condition that he marry her ward. He tries desperately to mollify Liza but is soundly rejected. Armed with the Countess' secret, he draws out his life's savings and enters the club. In a febrile humor, he plays a succession of games, each time betting the total of his previous winnings. In the third and last game, when he thinks he has the winning ace, he reveals his card, only to find that it is the Queen of Spades. He has been damned.
QoS is less a horror film than The Innocents (1961), more a fevered melodrama with supernatural underpinnings. Incidentally, Jack Clayton who directed that one was associate producer here. Director Thorold Dickinson (who was apparently hired only a few days before shooting began) generates, through deep focus and shadowy corners (DoP Otto Heller), an atmosphere of eerie unease that surely inspired Clayton (as does the impressive production design, contrasting the Countess' overbearingly lavish homestead with Suvorin's bare quarters). Anton Walbrook and Edith Evans are the two main cornerstones in the cast, and they are terrific in their respective parts. I also love that Suvorin's greed comes from his hatred of his circumstances and the derision he faces from his more prosperous fellowmen at the cards table. If I have any complaint, it is only that in the quest for a more cheerful final image, the film focuses on its least interesting characters.
But if B&W gothic melodramas are your thing, then you definitely need to deal yourself this hand.
The disc boasts a terrific transfer, equaling Criterion's work on The Innocents, if we're talking B&W masterpieces. Comparing with screenshots of the earlier Kino Lorber release, I'd say the image is appreciably refined with better contrast and grain resolution. The lossless mono audio is clear, both dialog and the evocative audio effects (the scene where Suvorin hears the thump of the ghostly Countess' walking stick and the swish of her gown approaching his room is a sterling example). Extras include a commentary track, multiple featurettes, and archival audio interviews with the director. There is also a slim booklet included in the case. The slipcover is useless for me as it's the same front and back image as the inside cover.
If one were to look for a common thread in all of Dibakar Banerjee aka DB's filmography (at least the full-length features), it would be the interplay between truth and deceit. His comedies Khosla ka Ghosla! and Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! prominently feature swindlers that live by pulling the wool over people's eyes. The characters are either deceiving someone else or blinding themselves to reality for the sake of wealth / happiness. Shanghai and Detective Byomkesh Bakshi! have protagonists driven by a search for the truth hidden behind the wall of deceit. In the fitfully interesting Sandeep aur Pinky Faraar (which was almost buried for want of takers) the characters are a bit of both. It would appear that, like his favorite detective, Mr. Banerjee is also through his films a 'Satyanweshi' (Truth-Seeker).
The first Love, Sex aur Dhokha (LSD) featured the camera as its ultimate protagonist, both an unbiased observer and a tool of deceit. In the world of 2010, it was handycams, CCTV and sting operations with hidden cameras that provided the voyeuristic view. 14 years later in LSD-2 (aka Like-Share-Download), it is reality TV, mobile phone cameras, virtual worlds and live-streaming / social media coverage that peers into our lives.
LSD-2's first episode focuses on Noor (Paritosh Tiwari), who after undergoing gender change surgery is now a participant in a talent show called Truth or Dance. Here the participants, challenged to dance or reveal a sensational truth about themselves, constantly work to up their audience ratings with emotional hooks. By choice I am not a major consumer of reality TV outside of cooking competitions, but this segment recalled my skims of shows like Kaun Banega Crorepati and India's Best Dancer when sitting with mum, their naked attempts to hold audience interest by milking sob stories or generating "behind-the-stage" content that's supposedly candid/unrehearsed. Noor's game is to bring in the mother (Swaroopa Ghosh) she has not spoken to in years, and who still refers to her as male. Their on-camera meeting is all sugary tears, but behind it is a still uneasy alliance, forged not so much by rekindled love as an arrangement to share fame and money. Noor is also desperate for her lover, a co-participant on the show, to publicly acknowledge her. Banerjee's script - with co-writers Shubham and Prateek Vats - fluidly mixes Noor's growing destabilization with the on-camera drama she generates for audience points (with cheeky references to notorious Indian reality TV imbroglios like 'Iske oopar nahin bolne ka!'). He brings the proceedings to a furious boil, aided in no small measure by terrific performances from Tiwari and Ghosh as the estranged mother-son/daughter joined only by their common greed.
Episode 2 has Swastika Mukherjee as Lovina, manager for a social work outfit integrating transgenders into mainstream employment. When one of their subjects Kullu (Bonita Rajpurohit), a Delhi Metro attendant, is found raped and beaten, Lovina raises hell with lax law authorities demanding a full-scale investigation. But the truth is more complicated and it's not a black and white world. Lovina finds herself backed into a corner to get out of which she herself must play the games of power. This segment is remarkable mainly for how nuanced its characters are. Their natures are neither good nor evil, only human (with all that the term implies).
The last segment is probably what will polarize most viewers with its stratospheric launch into surrealism. Live-streamer Game-paapi (Abhinav Singh) garners a following for his channel where he dispenses macho trash-talk while playing a Counter-Strike clone shooter. When an anonymous hacker posts sleazy morphed pictures of GP in a homosexual context, he is outraged. But this makes for a giant spike in his online viewership, leading to sponsorship deals linked to his "new identity" as an LGBT spokesperson.Tormented by the insult to his heterosexual masculinity and the fickle warping of his 'social influencer' career, GP is driven to madness and even death...or is it? Banerjee here goes into full bore whatever the fuck mode, bringing in cyber messiahs and virtual celestial worlds. I can't say it made a lot of sense to me, on the other hand I couldn't help but admire his courage in pulling out something so audacious.
As my previous review would show, I wasn't too thrilled by the first LSD. The sequel on the other hand proved far more gripping and imaginative, maybe even profound. No late cash-in this, but a strong return to form for the auteur. Showing now on Netflix:
In Sergio Sollima's The Big Gundown, actor Tomas Milian played a character nicknamed 'Cuchillo' aka 'The Knife', who is chased by Lee Van Cleef's lawman. Cuchillo's a vulgar and shifty bastard, loud mouthed and slippery, amenable to all kinds of dirty tricks. The character was obviously a hit with audiences, because Sollima and Milian return to Cuchillo in Run, Man, Run (RMR). Here his braggadocio is a little tamped down and he is a touch more openly heroic. Cuchillo gets mixed up in an adventure pertaining to the Mexican revolution when an imprisoned poet he helps to break out of jail confides to him in a dying moment, the location of hidden gold in Texas meant to fund the rebellion.
But several other parties are interested in the gold, and perhaps for less altruistic reasons. There's former sheriff Cassidy (Donald O'Brien), a pair of French mercenaries, the Texan mayor (Gianni Rizzi, who frequently played oily villains) and his daughter, and the bandit Riza. Cuchillo's quest leads him to tight spots on several occasions: he is beaten, shot at, strung up, tied to a windmill. To survive, he must rely on his wits and his knife skills, and occasionally, the help of some unlikely allies.
While the political angle has a place in RMR, it is secondary to Cuchillo's adventure. There are even some moments of black comedy, like when Cuchillo steals food from a house and walks out the front door only to find himself facing a firing squad. Milian is a delight in the lead, conveying as much through shrugs, grins and glances as through dialog. There are some strong actors in the supporting cast. The action scenes are ambitious and fun. I know Leone is a bigger name, but I find Corbucci and Sollima's less pompous western tales more easily watchable.
A few words on the blu-ray release from Eureka:
Video-wise, the Eureka transfer is pretty fine. Detail is not always the greatest, but the colors look pretty good. In general, it resembles how I'd expect a low-budget Italian western of that period to look like. The Italian mono track I used (overdubbed, of course) sounded good. Bruno Nicolai's score has some nice moments (my favorite is a nighttime ambush where Cuchillo has to take on a gang of fellows with his knives, while an ally takes up sniper duty). The English subtitles are generally fine, although there is the occasional typo like when the rebel leader tells his henchman to "...get the keys to the 'panty' and double the men's rations". There is also an English audio track (with optional SDH subs).
Extras include a feature commentary with (who else!) Kim Newman, a 20-min video essay by Stephen Thrower, alternate English credits sequence and a lengthy trailer. The booklet has 2 essays by critic Howard Hughes, one on the film, and an exhaustive rundown of films featuring the Mexican revolution. The now OOP first run of this movie had a bonus disc with a 85-min badly truncated US cut (and its own commentary).
RMR is another fine specimen of the spaghetti western genre, and even if you didn't get the LE, the standard release has enough good stuff in it to warrant the purchase.
You have to wonder, when Ishiro Honda helmed the first Godzilla film in 1954, did he have any inkling at the time of the enduring cinematic icon he was to forge? 70 years and 37 films later (and that's discounting the American studio films), his monstrous reptilian creation has been villain and hero, monster and god. In Honda's original film, Godzilla personified the horror of the destruction wreaked upon Japan by nuclear explosives. It was a serious melodrama punctuated with memorable scenes of monster destruction. Later installments brought a more comic-book sensibility. Godzilla, either as destroyer or protector, grappled with other outsized creatures or technological threats in battles that increasingly resembled costumed wrestling bouts. 2016's Shin Godzilla was a return to roots for the franchise, re-emphasizing the big G as a nigh-insurmountable force of destruction upon humanity. My only issue was that the film's satire on the red-tapism of Japanese bureaucracy while dealing with the Fukushima crisis took up huge swathes of the narrative without being dramatically interesting.
The long gap till the next live-action Godzilla feature was primarily on account of a no-competition agreement between franchise owner Toho and Hollywood based Legend Entertainment who'd obtained a license to make their own set of Monsterverse pictures featuring Godzilla with other giant creatures in more technologically advanced versions of the costumed wrestling bouts. The SARS-CoV-2 pandemic further postponed the project from 2019-2022. But it would seem that the additional time was well used by writer director Takashi Yamazaki, because at least in my humble opinion, Godzilla Minus One (GMO) has the best human drama in a Godzilla film since the 1954 original.
Set in the aftermath of WW2, when Japan is still reeling under the loss of the war and the untold destruction of the atomic bomb, the film is yet another reboot of the giant reptile's cinematic legend. Our protagonist Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki) is a kamikaze pilot landed on the repair base on Odo island, ostensibly due to technical issues. The aircraft technician Tachibana (Munetaka Aoki) rightly guesses that Shikishima has abandoned the mission, not wanting to throw his life away on a lost cause. That night, Godzilla in a smaller avatar emerges from the sea and attacks the base. Shikishima's fear paralyses him from trying to save the island crew from the creature.
After Shikishima returns to a ravaged Japan, he meets young Noriko (Minami Hamabe), a survivor who has adopted an orphaned baby, and they form a makeshift family. But like Joseph Conrad's Lord Jim (or its Bollywood inspiration in Amitabh Bachchan's Vijay Pal Singh from Kaala Patthar) Shikishima cannot escape guilt over his cowardice. It colors his whole outlook, reflects even in his choice of profession, clearing deep sea mines off the Japanese coast. In this situation, he faces the return of an old nightmare - Godzilla resurfaces, now several times bigger and more powerful, an angry God laying waste all around while every attempt to counter him fails miserably.
Unlike the Hollywood Godzilla films (and several of Toho's own), GMO's human characters are not dull fodder to endure while awaiting the next episode of monster mayhem. In fact Shikishima's saga of failure and eventual redemption is the main story here, and people looking purely for monster thrills should check their expectations. That's not to say that the film lacks in destructive spectacle, far from it. Director Yamazaki was himself responsible for the visual FX which garnered the Oscar for Best Visual Effects for what it achieved on a fraction of Hollywood budgets. Like in Shin Godzilla, the big G is a unstoppable force. The recreation of the iconic scene from the '54 film where Godzilla attacks a train gives one goosebumps. Shusuke Kaneko's genre-revitalizing kaiju films from the 90's are also respectfully referenced. The more somber arc of this narrative means that humans must pay a heavy price for the destruction the monster wreaks. But it is in the face of ultimate crisis that from our innermost recesses we dig out hope.
It's general acclaim notwithstanding, many Mad Max fanboys were not pleased that the franchise's last installment Fury Road was less a Max showcase and more a film about its female protagonist Furiosa (Charlize Theron). Now 9 years later, this prequel goes even further in that direction, focusing entirely on the origins of the renegade woman warrior. Max is seen only in a single shot, replicating the one at the beginning of Fury Road.
We first meet Furiosa as a little girl from an unmapped oasis, kidnapped by raiders when she goes foraging. Her brave mother embarks on a rescue mission, but is killed by the horde of bad guy Dementus (Chris Hemsworth). Dementus imprisons little Furiosa to know the location of her oasis, but is soon forced to give her up to Citadel ruler Immortan Joe (Lachy Hulme filling in for the late Hugh Keays-Byrne). To escape the fate of joining Joe's harem, Furiosa shaves her head to disguise herself as a boy, and works for the Citadel garage. Later as an adult (Anya Taylor-Joy from The Menu), she shows her mettle in an astounding vehicle combat sequence that demonstrates helmer George Miller's continued mastery of the craft. This earns her the respect of Praetorian Jack (Tom Burke), the Citadel's 'War Rig' driver, who then furthers her education in survival.
An aging Dementus reappears on the scene, engineering treachery to take over the citadel. Amidst the battle between the different factions in the wasteland, Furiosa must obtain her revenge and her release. As you may expect, there is a good amount of combat here, both on vehicles and off. Anya Taylor-Joy gives a decent account of herself as the taciturn constantly wary warrior, and she is certainly up for the physical demands of the role, which I had not expected from seeing her as the cigarette-huffing stick-figured girl in The Menu. But it is Chris Hemsworth who seems to be having the most fun. His Dementus is by turns a blusterer, a comic, a megalomaniac, a traitor...yet in the end he almost wins our sympathy with a superbly delivered monologue about how vengeance never takes away the pain. It finally leads to the point where Furiosa's mission in Fury Road begins.
At nearly 2.5 hours, the prequel is significantly longer than Fury Road. A lot of the time is spent on identifying the different factions and their politics. It's not Shakespearean drama, and some of it more in the vein of video game cut-scenes. Thankfully these proceedings (marked by portentous chapter stops) are sufficiently punctuated with enough blistering action to make the whole dish palatable. Once again, Miller shows how to conduct scenes of battle which are palpable and have a clear flow that makes them easy to follow.
While I would have liked for a more crisp adventure, I still had a good time at the cinema, which is really where you should be catching this spectacle.
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