Showing posts with label Biblical films. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Biblical films. Show all posts

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Eugène Green is back -- with his oddball, beautiful, quasi-Biblical THE SON OF JOSEPH


I've seen only two of the films of American-born French filmmaker Eugène Green -- 2014's La Sapienza and his newest work, THE SON OF JOSEPH -- but these are enough to have earned M. Green, pictured below, a place in TrustMovies' canon: that of a a very special and specialized filmmaker whose work will have limited appeal. Less so even than, say, Eric Rohmer. But for those to whom it will appeal, his movies should have enormous resonance.

The Wikipedia listing for this filmmaker is short and concise, explaining that he is noted for "training a generation of young actors in the revival of French baroque theatre technique and declamation."

When I read this, it suddenly hit me like a blast of fresh air. This is why watching and listening to Green's movies puts me so in mind of classical French playwrights like Racine and Marivaux -- yet in a modern-day context. His characters declaim, all right. But they do this so quietly and well that they almost (but not quite) convince us of their "reality." Yet reality is not the primary thing that M. Green is going for, I suspect. He is happy to attempt something more "theatrical" and perhaps old-fashioned that will nonetheless force us to stop, question, and consider things anew. And he manages this -- in spades. But at a price that simply rules out anything like a mainstream audience. Even the arthouse crowd may champ at the bit. So be it. The filmmaker goes his own way but achieves just what he wants.

Green's style combines elegance and formality with theatricality and grace. I can't think of anyone else who manages all this in anything like the same way. He has a keen interest in architecture, beauty and formal gardens; in philosophy, religion and in doing the right thing for the right reason. He's a moralist, and he uses his arsenal to help us consider being moral, too.

While La Sapienza dealt with love from a more moral/psychological viewpoint, The Son of Joseph deals with it from a moral/religious one. Faux Biblical scenes abound -- from Abraham's would-be sacrifice of Isaac (here reversed so that it is the son who very nearly kills the father) to Mary and Joseph's journey via ass. One lengthy scene takes place in a glorious church (above) where a poem is read and a song sung.

The story told is of a mother-son family in which the father (more odd-but-on-the-nose work by Mathieu Amalric) never took part past the impregnation stage. That son (a fresh and compelling performance by Victor Ezenfis, below, right), determined to learn who that father is, rejects a school friend's request that he help provide semen for an on-line business venture to go instead on his search for dad. Fathering, it seems, must result in more than mere sperm donation.

Finding his father results in also discovering a faux father (an exceptional job from Fabrizio Rongione, above, left, of La Sapienza and Two Days, One Night), the brother of the real father who proves to be everything that dad is not. The mother here is given a beautifully rounded, graceful character by Natacha Régnier (below). Green's cast proves more than capable of handling the declamation well, while the filmmaker's use of closeup brings to fine life the important moments we need to experience.

Duality is heavily present in both "Sapienza" and "Joseph," and the manner in which Green plays with this is often charming and funny. Coupled to the beauty and elegance that the filmmaker finds both indoors and out, all this makes for a pretty heady experience for those so inclined. (That's M. Green, below, left, playing a helpful hotel concierge.)

The Son of Joseph, distributed in the USA by Kino Lorber, opens this Friday, January 13, at The Film Society of Lincoln Center's Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center. Elsewhere? Yes, the film is so far booked in another six cities over the weeks to come. Click here and scroll down to see all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters.

Friday, December 9, 2016

FIAF's Rabah Ameur-Zaïmeche series closes with his latest film, STORY OF JUDAS


Last year turns out to have been a banner one for movies about Jesus. Not only did we get Rodrigo Garcia's excellent and unusual Last Days in the Desert, with Ewan McGregor as a questioning, caring Christ, but from France came the most recent work of Rabah Ameur-Zaïmeche, the fellow whose five-film series comes to a close this Tuesday at New York's French Institute/Alliance Française (FIAF) with THE STORY OF JUDAS.

TrustMovies covered the series last month but had not yet seen this last of Ameur-Zaïmeche's movies. As expected, it's a good one, with a view of both Jesus and Judas that is unlike much of anything we've so far seen. Perhaps it takes a Muslim moviemaker to explore Christianity's leading figure with a new eye and mind. (I suspect Ameur-Zaïmeche, shown at left, to be not particularly religious, at least so far as any fundamentalist attitude is concerned. He seems too humane & intelligent for that.)

Above all, this guy is a good movie-maker, as the other four films in this series attest. His take on Jesus and his story is both fresh and fascinating. Beginning with a buzzing fly on the soundtrack and then a glorious shot of a hut atop a hill, we then move inside that hut as one man lifts another onto his shoulders and carries him out and down. "Four days of fasting, and you're as heavy as ever!" notes the carrier to his burden, and the moment, though clearly set in ancient times, seems as intimate and modern as you could want.

Yes, it's Jesus and Judas, together again, but in a very different re-telling. Here are the teachings, the little children, the crowds, even music, song, and a new cloak. And weeping, too, after some of his pronouncements. Pieces of this filmmaker's loveliest writing can be found in Judas' description of Jesus' words: what they achieve and how they do this.

Ameur-Zaïmeche is less interested in those popular and surely imagined "miracles" than in Jesus' humanity and search for social justice. Look for no Lazarus here, but you will see the money-changers tossed from the temple and the woman taken in adultery (below). Even in the latter, we get the admonition to "Go" but not a mention of "Sin no more." Often the movie may put you in mind of the Pasolini version in its simplicity and honor, but without the overlay of Marxism. Not that the movie is not political, but Story of Judas doesn't wear its politics quite so blatantly.

And though M. Ameur-Zaïmeche plays Judas (he seems to appear prominently in all his films), this is really more of an ensemble piece. Particularly arresting scenes include that of our man washing his disciples feet ("Why?" indeed!) and most especially the scribe, who wants to write down everything "The Master" is saying, and what happens to him. This may be the most unusual and surprising part of the movie, and I think the key might be found in Jesus' (and the filmmaker's) need to place "the thing itself" above all else. (As well as a nod, maybe, to the disastrous results of "transcribing" the scriptures.)

The filmmaker's version is highly telescoped, of course, with the last and major portions given over to the arrest, trial (the most interesting philosophically of any version I've yet seen) and death. Not to worry: Ameur-Zaïmeche does not pull a Mel Gibson here and decide that torture, pain and bloodshed must trump everything. Instead, his imagining of the tale gives us a kind of grand tragedy played out in the most humble of means, with the humanity of all involved at the forefront.

Remember that the "gospels," as we like to refer to them, were all written well after the fact. So why not go with Ameur-Zaïmeche's version. I certainly would. It's beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent and real.

Story of Judas -- in French with English subtitles and running 99 minutes -- will play at FIAF's Florence Gould Hall this coming Tuesday, December 13, at 4pm and 7:30pm. Click here for further information and/or tickets.