I confess, if it had not been for my trusted fantasy/horror movie reviewer Richard Scheib's positive opinion, Hermana Muerte aka Sister Death would have passed me by as one of those generic Netflix algorithm offerings, conceived as a low-budget knockoff of The Nun franchise. What also intrigued me was that it was made by Paco Plaza, who with Jaume Balaguero created [REC], a ferocious zombie movie that turned out one of the best examples of the found footage genre, and one of only two I find sufficiently rewatchable to have in my movie collection (the other is the Japanese film One Cut of the Dead, which brilliantly turns the concept on its head).
But Sister Death is as far away as it gets from [Rec]. The first thing that makes an impression is the film's presentation in the now-unusual 4:3 Academy aspect ratio. It could be a nod to the post-WW2 setting of the film, but it also harks back to an earlier age of cinema. Hollywood shifted to widescreen in the 50's, and other film industries followed suit across the next few decades. The mass adoption of widescreen home displays in more recent times means that this ratio is now wholly discarded from mainstream entertainment. It is now only occasionally seen, in the work of arthouse favorites like Andrea Arnold or Pawel Pawlikowski. Sister Death's visuals (DoP Daniel Abello) are composed specifically for the non-standard ratio, which at least indicates that the makers have a specific vision for this project; it is a not simply a work-for-hire.
The narrative has strong parallels with Guillermo Del Toro's 2001 chiller The Devil's Backbone (TDB). In that film, a young boy brought to an orphanage during the time of the Spanish civil war experiences a spectral terror rooted in the place's dark past. In Sister Death, novitiate Sister Narcisa (a radiant Aria Bedmar) enters a convent where young girls are sheltered. She is enthusiastically welcomed by the Mother Superior (Luisa Merelas) who is eager to have her ordained, mainly on account of her reputation as a little girl who had a divine revelation (this is depicted at the beginning of the film using scratchy, vintage-looking footage). Less cordial is the Mother Superior's lieutenant Sister Julia (Maru Valdivielso), who appears to resent Narcisa's fame. Narcisa herself appears to be having a conflict of faith, doubting the veracity of her childhood vision, waiting for some confirmatory sign from the divine. Some articles on the film have commented on Narcisa's name being a reference to Narcissus, which is an interesting angle on how her actions are interpreted later in the film.
Unlike Hollywood's higher-profile horror pictures, Sister Death doesn't attempt to beat down on your head with jump scares. Initially, all Narcisa sees are a chair that repeatedly tips over, and an abandoned glass marble. Then things build up. Even though nothing is particularly novel (and banging doors are so cliche), the film generates some solid disturbing moments, like when Narcisa finds herself in an impromptu pastry tasting that has a nasty climax. The film also suggests that in her eagerness to decipher the mysterious happenings, she may have inadvertently caused a child's death. Eventually, after paying a steep personal price, Narcisa uncovers the truth of the hauntings in the convent's shameful war-time past. Like in TDB, we see that the spooky spectral entity is not necessarily the source of evil, but a response to the corruption in human beings.
Sister Death lacks the epic sweep of Del Toro's film, and it doesn't twist your gut the way [Rec] did, but in its contained modest way, this is a solid well-made chiller, worth your time and attention.
P.S. Sister Death is supposed to be a prequel to another horror film called Veronica. I haven't seen it, and I can at least confirm that it is not a pre-requisite to appreciating this film.
Prior to watching Falbalas, I'd only seen Jacques Becker's Le Trou aka The Hole, his jailbreak drama which engrossed me thoroughly (reviewed HERE). I have also heard a lot of good word about his crime drama Touchez pas au grisbi. What I liked about Becker was that his work seemed to cover a variety of genres.
Falbalas (translated as Paris Frills) is a drama set in the Parisian fashion world. Raymond Rouleau (who reminds me of a young Michael Redgrave) is haute couture designer Philippe Clarence who periodically refreshes his fashion catalog...and his love life. Devoted solely to his art, Philippe is a cad who throws over a woman with little compunction once his interest is exhausted. The only constant woman in his life is his business partner, the elderly Mme Solange (Gabrielle Dorziat). Micheline (Micheline Presle) is the latest girl to catch his fancy. The fact that she is fiancee to his friend Daniel (Jean Chevrier) does not stop Philippe from making advances. When after being seduced by his attentions Micheline expresses her intention to break off her engagement with Daniel, Philippe squirms out of commitment, proposing a "friends with benefits" arrangement. Realizing his inner nature Micheline gives him the cold shoulder, which in turn rekindles his desire, and he begins to pursue her again.
There are a couple of things that make Falbalas stand out from the usual melodrama. The first is the immersive recreation of the fashion world in its depiction of Philippe's studio. The same dedication to verisimilitude that made Le Trou remarkable is also seen here. We go behind the scenes with the army of seamstresses and assistants that translate the designer's vision into reality; the film contrasts their conventional nature to the bohemian artist's personality. Also, Becker is not afraid to take the melodrama darker places. When Philippe resumes his pursuit of Micheline, his harsh uncaring words condemn his factotum and former lover Anne-Marie (Françoise Lugagne) to a cruel fate. Despite her spurning of his "friendship" offer, Micheline finds her physical passions aroused by Philippe, and she can no longer reconcile to marriage with Daniel. Philippe's obsession eventually descends into a spiral of madness that takes us back to the image of death we see at the beginning of the film.
There are several scenes where Becker shows his penchant for building tension. A wonderful example is when Micheline, after her betrayal by Philippe, comes home to a table-tennis game played by her family and refereed by fiance Daniel. Pestered mid-match by questions about the upcoming marriage, she remains silent, only following the ball's back-and-forth with her eyes until she can't bear it anymore and breaks down. Towards the end, an increasingly distraught Philippe locks himself up from the world, intently studying his mannequin draped with the wedding gown he had designed for Micheline, seeing it come alive in her likeness - this is more in the territory of Gothic fantasy. There are some snazzy visuals too - early on, the camera accompanies Philippe as he descends in the elevator while speaking out at Daniel. While not a masterpiece, Falbalas is an engaging feature that shows Becker (who also helmed Casque d'or and Touchez pas au grisbi) to be more than a maker of crime dramas.
A brief word on the UK blu-ray of Falbalas from Studio Canal, available either individually or as part of an Essential Becker boxed collection.:
Video-wise the transfer is strong, with good contrast and grayscale. The sound (DTS-HDMA 2.0 mono) I felt lacked presence - whether it is a limitation of the source elements or aggressive filtration, I can't say. It's still okay, if you raise the volume. The optional English subtitles are clean and easy to read. Extras include a half-hour featurette with Becker's son Jean talking about the film, an interview with star Micheline Presle and a featurette about the film's influence on fashion designer Jean-Paul Gaultier. On the whole Falbalas was a lovely way to start off the Becker box. I'm looking forward to the other films.
Despite the glowing review from my go-to movie critic Baradwaj Rangan, I had reservations about 12th Fail. Based (at least loosely) on IPS officer Manoj Sharma's life, the film details the story of how he went from being a 12th class fail to successfully clearing the hyper-competitive Public Service Commission entrance hurdles. From that outline, it threatened to be like the numerous cliched Indian sports movies of the last 10 years, only without the sportsing. And how does a film generate excitement about someone passing an examination - Ticking the right answer box hardly conveys the viscerality of scoring a goal or smashing a cricket ball into the stands, right? This worried me.
The other factor was Vidhu Vinod Chopra. Chopra made a name in the late 1980's with his crime thrillers Khamosh (1986) and Parinda (1989). The low-budget Khamosh was a first-rate mystery that cleverly used its film-within-a-film conceit; Even in its limited release it garnered eyeballs, and the unveiling of its suspense was a tour de force discussed by fans years later. Parinda - a noir mixed with Bollywood sentiment - was script-wise shaky, but its technical chutzpah courtesy his frequent collaborators - art director Nitin Desai, DoP Binod Pradhan and editor Renu Saluja - impressed cinephiles.
Post-Parinda, Chopra became Bollywood's Golden Boy. Sought after by stars and handed massive budgets, his next project 1942: A Love Story - an escapist period drama almost 5 years in the making - reflected the bloat of his ambition. The technical wizardry was there, but the storytelling was a meandering mess. The man who at one point was poised to turn the course of Bollywood had succumbed to its excess. 2000's Mission Kashmir, which Kashmiri origin Chopra claimed to be a passion project, reduced complex terrorism issues to childish outbursts and cartoon villainy. This was enough to put me off his cinema, and it coincided with his own hiatus from direction. Chopra was now content to produce films, majorly those of protege Rajkumar Hirani (the Munnabhai franchise, 3 Idiots, PK, Sanju). The subsequent occasional forays he made into direction (Ekalavya, Shikara) did not interest me at all. Still, Rangan's review, coupled with the praise from my other trusted movie reviewer Deepa Gahlot, goaded me to take this one in at the cinema.
In 12th Fail, we first meet Manoj Sharma (Vikrant Massey) as a high school pupil in Chambal, a province of Madhya Pradesh in northern India historically (in)famous for its dacoit gangs. It is also notorious for rampant cheating in the board examinations, which is not only permitted but actively supported by the school authorities. After an honest police officer (Priyanshu Chatterjee) disrupts the operation, Manoj and his entire class end up failing their year. That same officer later comes to Manoj's aid when he and his brother are hassled by the constabulary for crossing a local politico's goons. Manoj is inspired by the upright cop to become one himself, a dream that eventually leads him to the challenge of clearing the public service exams.
The story could have been one of Rajkumar Hirani's projects (I would not be surprised if it had started out that way). But I suspect Hirani would have loaded it with cute catchphrases and artificial sweetness. While 12th Fail has its own catchphrase in its repeated refrain of "Restart" it's used more sparingly. Also, Chopra at the helm brings in a lot more believable texture. It's not just in the production design, it's in the writing of the characters and the casting of actors suitable for the parts, instead of marquee names. The scale is deliberately kept small, detail substituting for scope. Manoj's dusty ill-lit village where he and his brother are suddenly burdened with maintaining the family, after their father (Harish Khanna) takes a suspension order for disobeying his corrupt superior's instructions, feels authentic. When he comes to Delhi, we are not given the scenic tour of the capital. Manoj's world is one of narrow crowded alleys, makeshift classrooms and dusty bookshelves. En route he has already lost the money his grandmother (Sarita Joshi) gifted him from her precious pension savings; he must clean toilets, mill flour and work other odd jobs to earn a living (the flour milling is also an analogy to the daily grind of his existence). These misfortunes are depicted with matter-of-fact restraint, focusing less on the tragedy and more on his resilience.
Vikrant Massey (Death in the Gunj) gets the lion's share of the applause for his committed performance in the lead part. But unlike other mainstream movies where the remaining cast is solely defined by their equation with the "hero", every character is etched and performed in a manner that transcends caricature. In a late scene, the aforementioned father meets with Manoj and tearfully breaks down over how his proud honesty has destroyed his family and that the poor can never hope to win. "But we can't admit defeat either," Manoj responds. Geeta Agarwal Sharma as Manoj's mother gets some memorable moments - check out the finely modulated scene of their encounter when Manoj returns home dejected after initial setbacks. Even the actor doing a one-scene part of a valet Manoj encounters when paying a surprise visit to his girlfriend in Mussouri comes off as a rounded individual instead of a stereotype.
As regards the girlfriend (Medha Shankar), this is in the end a movie meant for mainstream consumption; a romance angle is deemed mandatory. There are some gauche stumbles here, like when the girl Shraddha mistakes Manoj to be an aerospace engineer just because he is holding a book on that subject, which leads to a misunderstanding later. But Chopra and his co-writers keep it mostly integrated in the main narrative. Shraddha has her own little arc - she is an idealist that has quit medicine to join the IAS because she wants to ensure adequate treatment for the poor. While advancing on her path, she remains supportive of Manoj; without tomtomming feminist credentials, the film shows that the woman can be an equal, even superior partner in a relationship. The normally played-for-laughs 'hero ka dost' role is also depicted with greater nuance and substance: The easy-going Pritam Pandey (Anant Joshi) generously accommodates the struggling Manoj and backs him when he is down, but when Pritam's own fortunes turn, it affects his outlook and their bond of friendship. Again, this is handled in a credible and sympathetic manner.
Right from his early films, Vinod Chopra was regarded as an Indian Brian De Palma, a brilliant visual director. In 12th Fail his command over the form continues: DoP Rangarajan Ramabadran employs handheld tracking, overhead shots, complex pans, the works. And Chopra, who at one point created some of the most gorgeous images in Hindi cinema, is not afraid to use unflattering source lighting or grimy textures. It is an uncharacteristic yet welcome shift that feels more like the effort of a fresh and hungry filmmaker. More importantly, it is all in the service of the storytelling.
In a time when mainstream Indian cinema is regressing with its extended celebration of machismo jackasserie, it is wonderful to see films not about gym-bred jocks tossing off hordes of minions in slow motion with barely a scratch on their well-oiled pecs. Armed with only the grit to withstand life's trials, Manoj Sharma held steadfast and finally reached his goal. A similar determination to telling an honest story allows 12th Fail to make its place in our hearts. I award it a First Class.
I'm probably shooting myself in the foot by saying this, but Baradwaj Rangan's review of Thiruchitrambalamgives a rather good analysis of what works and what doesn't in this 2022 Dhanush vehicle. With a piece that comes more than a year after the film's theatrical release (and a couple of months after it started streaming on Prime), I suppose I am rather late to the party. But then the film itself is drawn in good measure from Hrishikesh Mukherjee's cinema as well as the 90's Hollywood rom-com.
The Thiruchitrambalam of the title is the embarrassingly archaic name given to the characters of both Dhanush and his grandfather (played by director-actor Bharatiraaja, who in his heyday was known for his rural dramas and remarkable crime thrillers). Of course, almost no one calls them by this appellation. Instead, both are commonly addressed as 'pazham' (literally fruit, roughly translating as simpleton). It is a simplification that to some extent also defines how the world sees them.
Thiru Jr makes deliveries for a food aggregator app, while the retired grandfather takes care of the house. The third member of their home is the father (Prakashraj), a police inspector. At the beginning of the film, against visuals of an automobile accident, Thiru Jr monologues about how life is like a piece of glass even a single crack can destroy. The crack is reflected in the broken relationship between son and father. At home they either completely ignore each other or bicker using the grandfather as a go-between. In the first scene we see them together, the inspector father slaps Thiru Jr at the police station when he is taken there after having being dragged into a scuffle.
That's the other trait for Dhanush's character. Far from the archetype South Indian 'Mass' hero, he runs away from the mere whiff of confrontation (except his verbal spats with dad). His profession also becomes a source of awkwardness when he has to deliver meals at the homes of former college-mates, including the girl he had a crush on (Raashii Khanna). If Thiru Jr has any feeling of freedom, it is in the company of his neighbor and 3:00 am buddy Shobhana (Nithya Menen). As Rangan's review points out, Shobhana is in many ways Thiru's polar opposite. Where he is pessimistic and withdrawn, she is a bubbly go-getter. She lends Thiru a sympathetic ear and backs him up when he doubts himself, but is also brave enough to laugh at his confusions while giving him pragmatic advice. Given this is a mainstream romantic drama, one can see where this leads, but the writing and the chemistry between Dhanush and Nithya keep the journey interesting.
One way TCB deviates from the rom-com template is by allotting sufficient breathing space to the drama in Thiru's family. The animosity between father and son is not reduced to cute standoffs - When towards the interval point the father suffers a major health calamity, for a long time it is Thiru Sr who must serve his son's needs because the grandson cannot find it in himself to tend to the man he has thus far hated. Which is not to say that their lives are wholly grim. The vibe between the grandfather and the grandson remains a warm and humorous one. They share pints and opinions; Thiru Sr serves a similar function as Shobhana in the narrative: he's a sounding board, life coach and motivational speaker to his grandson; he even doles out love-life advice.
The little details, the dedication to keeping a low-key approach is where TCB shines. Where other films would make a huge do about the reconciliation of father and son, where the son getting over his timidity would be an extravagant 'HERO' moment with slow-motion, wire-work and guitar-driven BGM, the scenes here play out with a minimum of directorial fuss, and the characters remain within their skins. As writer and director, Mithran Jawahar deserves kudos for not stooping to incorporate the star mannerisms Dhanush employs in his 'mass' films.
Of course, there are flaws in the bigger picture. Rashii Khanna as a former classmate calls Thiru a topper that abruptly disappeared after college. Surely if you are in the same city, it can't be that hard to track a classmate, and even in the pre-smartphone days, news of family tragedies did travel. While class consciousness is a continuing sickness in our society, the way in which Thiru Jr's classmates openly jeer at his lowly occupation in public is a cheap way to garner sympathy for his character. The most significant "Tchah!" moment for me was late in the narrative when Shobhana is suddenly revealed to have been infatuated with Thiru right from their schooldays, as her brother claims, when he scatters a boxful of unsent Valentine's Day cards from her. It reduced her from the pragmatic, supportive friend to a stereotype wallflower from a more primitive age of Indian cinema. Thankfully it doesn't entirely take away from the charms of the film, which remains watchable.
I was pleasantly surprised to learn that TCB was one of Tamil cinema's big hits for 2022. That this breezy low-key character drama managed to stand well amidst the din of the adi-thadi (biff-pow) Ajith, Vijay and Kamal starrers is a heartening trend.
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