Old Yorker

  • The Return

    Vosvrashcenie

    Andrey Zvyagintsev (2003)

    An unusual and absorbing film, even though the lack of context provided for the characters tends to focus attention on the meaning of the story – which is easily susceptible to symbolic (specifically Freudian) readings – at the expense of interest in what’s going to happen, or in the characters themselves.  A group of mostly early adolescent boys dive into a lake from a high platform.  The pre-adolescent youngest of them Ivan (Ivan Dobronravov) is too frightened to take his turn.   The others, including Ivan’s elder brother Andrey (Vladimir Karin), contemptuously leave him stranded at the top of the platform.  His mother Mat (Nataliya Vdovina) finds Ivan there – it seems hours later – weeping and shivering.  Ivan tells her that, if she hadn’t come, he would never have been able to get down and back home.   The next day, the boys’ father Otets (Konstantin Lavronenko) comes home too, after an absence of twelve years.    There’s no explanation of what caused the absence or the return or of where Otets has been (in the one short scene where the mother and father are alone together they say not a word to each other).   The day after that, the father takes his sons on a journey, further and further from home and mother, out of town, through forests, eventually to a remote island.

    The elder boy is ready to enjoy the adventure – he’s amiable, mostly acquiescent, relatively slow-witted.   The younger boy, loathing the experience, is intellectually and emotionally combative, questioning and challenging the father.  (According to the scheme of the film, Ivan fails to put questions designed to elicit information.  He asks ‘Why did you come back?’ rather than ‘Where have you been all these years?’ – but he gets no answers anyway.)   The father behaves in a way which is, at times, borderline physically brutal and often seems psychologically cruel.   (There are moments when his violent capriciousness even suggests an Old Testament God.)   Yet one of the strongly mysterious elements in the film is the occasional suggestion that Otets, in spite of what he does and says, means well – and that he can’t express himself differently.  The expedition reaches its climax when Ivan climbs to the top of a construction virtually identical to the diving platform.  The father, coming after him (more protectively than menacingly), falls to his death from this construction.   The boys, in their different ways, both seem to grow up at this point:  Ivan gains in physical courage; Andrey’s face and voice suggest a new understanding.  At the end of a gruelling journey home, during which the sons diligently guard the father’s body, it floats away and sinks when, exhausted, they rest at the edge of the lake and briefly fall asleep.  It comes as no surprise, given the lack of realistic underpinning to the story, that we don’t see the boys’ reunion with, or the explanation they give to, their mother and grandmother (who shares the family home).  What we do see – finally – is a series of photos they have taken of each other and of the landscapes they have been in over the last few days:  these include no photograph of the father.  (The images fill the screen, taking their place in a larger family album that moves back to the boys’ infancy.)

    The extremes of weather that the father and his sons experience on their journey are used very effectively.  The alternation of brilliant blue sky and driving rain is not just visually beautiful – it means that the audience is never allowed to settle, is kept guessing.  The score and sound too have a subtly disorienting effect.  And the three main actors all take the camera strongly in their physically contrasting ways.  It’s hard either to watch or think of the film without being reminded that the young actor who played the elder son drowned shortly after filming was completed – in one of the lakes featured on screen.  For various reasons, The Return stays with you.

    8 May 2008

  • Life of Crime

    Daniel Schechter (2013)

    Like Jackie Brown, this is a character-driven crime caper based on a novel by Elmore Leonard.  Unlike Jackie Brown, Quentin Tarantino didn’t write the screenplay or direct and Life of Crime could use some of his electricity and wit.  The film isn’t bad but it’s lacklustre and, since the two criminals who kidnap a rich man’s wife and set a hefty ransom for her release are the most engaging characters from the start, the reversals in the story don’t have much impact.  The plot is somewhat reminiscent of the more decisively comedic Ruthless People (1986):  the scumbag chauvinist Frank Dawson (Tim Robbins), whose wealth is thanks to his own life of crime in the form of dodgy business deals, would be more than happy for his wife Mickey (Jennifer Aniston) to disappear without trace so that he can settle down with his younger mistress Melanie (Isla Fisher).  Once Mickey learns she’s going to be released – the kidnappers Louis (John Hawkes) and Ordell (Yasiin Bey, aka Mos Def) mistakenly think the ransom has been paid – she realises she doesn’t want to go home.  Once she gets home, she realises she hates Frank, who’s filed for divorce, enough to go into partnership with Louis and Ordell.  The film, set in Detroit in 1978 (with plenty of agreeable pop song reminders of the year on the soundtrack), ends with this pair, abetted by Mickey, taking Melanie prisoner in the hope that Frank will be keener to pay to get her back.  (The Elmore Leonard novel is called The Switch.)

    Jennifer Aniston is good in the pre-kidnap scenes as the fretful, frustrated trophy wife, watching her husband ooze vilely at a golf club dinner and their teenage son throw a strop when he loses a tennis match.  Aniston doesn’t bring Mickey’s transformation to life but, if she did, the film’s denouement might be even more obvious.  All the main actors do decent work – especially John Hawkes, who makes Louis both seedy and sensitive, and Will Forte, as Marshall, Mickey’s infinitely spineless would-be suitor – but Daniel Schechter’s direction is pedestrian.  There are two problems with minor characters.  Richard (Mark Boone Jr), with whom Louis and Ordell work in tetchy partnership, is a Nazi fanatic.  A plaque on the wall of his scuzzy home proclaims there’s ‘nothing lower in this world than jews [sic] and niggers, except the police who protect them’.  It’s hard to make this character amusing, even in a black comedy, even when one of his partners in crime is African-American, and even though Richard is eventually killed by a police bullet.  Daniel Schechter relies on Mark Boone Jr’s repulsive obesity to make the man comically ridiculous, which merely adds to the unease.  Frank and Mickey’s teenage son Bo is well played by Charlie Tahan.  Bo is convincingly unhappy but is then virtually dropped from the story.  What are we supposed to think its outcome holds for him?

    7 September 2014

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