Victor Kossakovsky's much-heralded but little-seen doc, THE BELOVS, comes to Film Forum

A dog licks his master's face with a long, wet tongue -- adorable and, considering how long this goes on, just a little weird. Then we get the dog's master's explanation, which sounds both correct and intuitive, followed by "Here's my message to humankind: Leave each other in peace!" So begins THE BELOVS (Belovy) a documentary made back in 1992 by Russian filmmaker Victor Kossakovsky (shown below, whose newest documentary, Gunda, opened here in the USA to almost unanimously positive reviews last week). 

The man we see is one-half of the Russian farm household that includes his widowed sister, herself looking  and sounding initially like part of that hearty, healthy peasant stock that takes life as it is and makes the best of it. Wait a minute: Soon enough we are privy to a whole lot more about this pair, as Kossakovsky fills his film with beautiful images of nature, man and animals, and scores it with music that sounds (to TrustMovies ear, at least) utterly Russian -- until it switches to something probably Mexican or Cuban, and later to what may be an old American or British pop song, thus matching the mood of some of his wondrous images: water and trees to massive boulders, a tractor barreling along the road and a tiny hedgehog (who co-stars with the dog in perhaps the film's most delightful and amazing scene).

It's as though the filmmaker knew what conclusion we would jump to, let us do exactly that, and then threw us for a loop. Again and again. He's a filmmaker who brings to fine life that smart old trope: Never assume. Before long we become aware that the brother, among his other features, is a loudmouth drunk, while his sis can often be a whiny complainer, as well as a kindly old soul who loves animals. (How she converses with the animal life around her is exquisite: charming, funny, caring.)

There's a visit from the pair's two brothers, so very different from our drunken farmer. We get a little politics and philosophy, a lot of arguing and pleas for a quieter tone. Old squabbles resurface, along with the inevitability of aging and opportunities passed by. "The train has left the station. We missed it." When sis tells her brother, "I'm grey from life with you!", we fully understand what she means. 

But there's still time for a sauna and a swim and finally a goodbye, in which it seems at least a few things might be mended. I don't know if it was simply a flaw in the link via which I viewed the film, but at one point toward the end, the sound disappeared. It was as though we had heard enough from this drunken sod. When sorrow and submission come, perhaps it's best they be experienced quietly and alone.

The print of the film, which looks shot in sepia tones, is hardly hi-def, but this, too, works to great advantage. Only 58 minutes long, The Belovs, makes an indelible impression, even as lightness and charm turns to sadness and oppression. Hey, it's Russian. When Kossakovsky finally shows us an old photo of the five siblings (above) in their younger years, the effect is beyond moving.

What seemed to begin as a celebration has evolved into a tale of the human condition, Russia-style. Whatever you think of these Belovs and their movie --  I was so happy to have finally had the chance to see this storied film -- you will certainly agree that it is one-of-a-kind. 

Premiering this Friday, December 18, for only a one-week run, The Belovs opens at New York City's Film Forum virtual cinema. Click here for further information.

Hong Sang-soo's Korean Rohmer-esque RIGHT NOW, WRONG THEN opens in theaters

I've not seen nearly all of the 21 films of Hong Sang-soo but of those I have (including The Day He Arrives, Like You Know It All, Oki's Movie, Night and Day, Woman Is the Future of Man, Woman on the Beach and his latest RIGHT NOW, WRONG THEN among them), certain themes and characteristics emerge. Hong often tells stories with a Korean art film director as a leading character. (Why not? He certainly knows those ropes.) If not a director, he'll give us an artist, or sometimes both. Furthermore, this director (along with most other characters in the film) drinks a lot and womanizes whenever possible. Travel is often present --from one city to another or one country to another -- as is the sense of the past nurturing and/or hobbling the present, as well as a keen interest in responsibility and the acceptance or rejection of same.

All of this has conspired over time to make me think of Eric Rohmer when I confront the films of Mr. Hong (shown at left). And I do mean this as a compliment. Both men's film are art-house to a fault, dialog heavy and often deal in similar themes. (Hong's movies are generally lengthier than Rohmer's, so be patient.)  His latest two-hour frolic splits itself almost exactly in two, with the first hour showing us his alter ego engaging in the usual come-on to attractive women (though he does try to resist, boy, is it difficult!), drinking, flirting, babbling and generally embarrassing himself rather badly. All this is, as usual, great fun to see this pretentious little twat unmasked and undone. But it is with the second half that Hong burnishes his movie to a gleaming shine.

In both parts our "hero" busies himself with a much younger art student, visiting her workshop and seeing her creations, meeting her friends, and then, the following day, giving his talk at a local screening of one of his films. Yet the first and second sections could hardly be more different and we need to view the former in order to properly appreciate the latter.

That first section is so much like many of the other of Hong's movies that it almost seems as if the filmmaker has finally grown fed up with this typical behavior and wants to show us might occur if his characters, particularly the art-film director, were more honest. What a difference this makes.

Sure we can still imbibe and grow drunk, but even here, the results differ when we're less self-involved and more other-centered. The change of behavior even stretches into the scene at the movie theater and the relationship with the film festival curator and his assistant.

To fully appreciate Hong and Rohmer, you must be also appreciate the ability of dialog to create character, and care about and understand character enough to let it control a film. Event is minimal, and yet, because of the depth of character, event, even a small one, in a sense becomes all.

Mr Hong finds humor, sadness and surprise -- even perchance growth -- in his characters, and this makes his forays into travel, drink, sex and art so enticing and so much fun. At least I find them so. I hope you will, too.

Meanwhile, Right Now, Wrong Then -- from Grasshopper Film and running opens tomorrow, Friday, June 24, in New York at the new Metrograph and at the Film Society of Lincoln Center, and in Los Angeles on June 25, at the Acropolis Cinema. In the weeks following, it will hit another six cities. Click here then scroll way down and click on Where to Watch to see all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters.

Gerard Barrett's GLASSLAND combines subtlety and melodrama to odd effect

Having recently seen the very fine American-Irish actor Jack Reynor in Sing Street, TrustMovies was fired up to view him in another Irish film, GLASSLAND, alongside one of TM's favorite actresses, Toni Collette, and another good performer, Will Poulter. As written and directed by a fellow named Gerard Barrett, the movie is nothing if not quiet and respectful. This is particularly surprising, however, considering that Barrett's film (the movie-maker is shown below) is all about alcohol addiction, dysfunctional family dynamics and heavy duty criminal activity. Unless I missed something along the way, however, the last of these three does not even suggest itself until nearly the end of the film.

These heavy-duty subjects, as handled by the movies, often result in melodrama -- especially when they're mixed together, as here. And yet Glassland, which refers I am guessing to a world in which everything around you is ripe for breakage, seems anything but melodramatic because its writer/director refuses to go that route. Instead he subdues everything so that even major plot points reveal themselves slowly via quietude and indirection. For anyone beaten down by Hollywood's heavy hand, not to mention those very long running times, this may seem like a kind of Nirvana (the movie lasts but 93 minutes).

Glassland is also a prime example of what some of us are fond of calling "British miserablism," Irish-style. It offers up everything from our current and horrible economic times to a very popular means -- alcohol -- to circumvent same, and even, maybe especially, a handicapped child.

Ms Collette (above) and Mr. Reynor (below) play alcoholic mother and hard-working son in a family where dad has gone missing and another, younger son with Down Syndrome resides in an institution. Fun, huh?

Determined to pull mom out of her abyss, good son does all his can -- which finally includes that aforementioned criminal activity. What it is and where and who it comes from is part of the movie's final surprise package -- the point being, I expect, that when we have little to nothing on our plate, we must do whatever it takes to obtain what we want. I'll buy that. But I don't buy Glassland, at least not fully.

The movie's sub-plot about Reynor's best pal (Mr. Poulter, above) and his problems could be excised in full and the film would not miss it in the least. In fact, we might have used that time concentrating on more and better specifics about the characters played by Collette and Reynor. Performances are all fine, so far as they go. But with more to work from, imagine what the actors might have given us. I'm all for subtlety and indirection, which Glassland offers in spades. But it also needs more content. Otherwise what's there begins to resemble, dare I say it, cliché.

From Film Movement, after a very limited theatrical run this winter, Glassland arrived on DVD this past Tuesday, May 3 -- for purchase and/or rental. 

In THURSDAY'S SPEAKER, Gary Hebert offers up a pretty good idea that misfires badly

The tale of a fellow finding the strength to own up to himself and his faults (alcoholism is just one of these), THURSDAY'S SPEAKER has a decent idea for a movie that is unfortu-nately brought to tired life by its writer/director/ editor, Gary Hebert -- who has bitten off a good deal more than he can chew and consequently delivers a non-starter that wastes the talents of some good actors. That the film won a few awards on the third-tier film-festival circuit only brings home the fact that too many movies are being made these days, and are then shown at some unnecessary festivals.

Still, how are budding filmmakers supposed to learn their craft except by trying and doing? So we can't hold this against Mr. Hebert, shown at left, who clearly did his best on this, his first full-length film. As unbelievable as are some of the goings-on, the characters, as well as the actors playing them, do their best to build up enough good will to carry the viewer along to the foregone, feel-good conclusion. What went wrong here? A lot. But primarily, I believe it is the so-so writing and downright poor editing that sink the endeavor. Hebert seems to have little feel for timing and pacing, and so his movie simply stalls far too often.

As you watch, you want to shout, "Pick up the pace, please!" Also, you want to send the script back for rewrites. The story is all about an aging responsibility-shirker named Rodrigo (Del Zamora, above), whom we first see addressing, and quite well, an AA Meeting. He's clearly a very good speaker. In the next scene, we see him take a drink or two and quickly realize what a scam artist he is.

His job -- selling poor-quality automobiles in a used car lot -- is a scam of another kind. And before long we see yet another, in the form of a younger woman, April (Ashley Ledbetter, above) who looks up Rodrigo's name in the phone book and reconnects with the guy. She has just relocated, with a high-school age son in tow, and she's applying for a job as pole-dancer in a strip club. The connection between April and Rodrigo is eventually established, but it oughtn't to come as too big a shock (it certainly doesn't to her son, Sam, played nicely by Andrew Shea, below).

As is often the case with first films, coincidence is rife and believability less so. Things happen because they need to in order to bring home Hebert's bacon. And regaling us with Rodrigo's constant lying, the movie's biggest stretch is asking us to believe that this guy could even remotely turn into what he needs to become by the movie's finale.

Job loss, arrest, first love and possible school expulsion (for the son), an intervention, and lots more take place before The End shows up. Of course, we'd like to buy it all, given as so many of us are partial to happy endings. And, as I say, the actors do provide some residual good will. Thankfully, the film comes in at just under an hour and a half, though getting there often feels longer. So it's your call. 

Where can you view Thursday's Speaker (a good title!)? This is the kind of movie made for the Netflix streaming stable, where you can view it on the cheap and then stick with it or not. But right now, from what I can tell, it is only available for sale on DVD for $13. Click here for more information. If the film ever becomes available for rental, or on a streaming outlet, and I learn of this, I'll update my post.

Funniest monster movie in a decade? Yes, if you can deal with thick Irish accents: Jon Wright and Kevin Lehane's irrepressible GRABBERS streams

Whoever came up with the idea for GRABBERS -- the just-now streaming movie released in the USA via IFC Midnight -- deserves free drinks for the rest of his or her life. This is one of those utterly inspired riffs on the good old-fashioned monster movie that takes the genre places we've not yet seen. The premise is so good, in fact, that I hesitate to give it away here. I'll just say that, as one of the movie's many clever posters (at left) suggests, "enjoy irresponsibly" -- if that gives you any clue. Written by Kevin Lehane and directed by Jon Wright (pictured below), the film takes awhile to get going, but once the gears are set in motion, there is no stopping this funny, frisky, grizzly, gory, thoroughly enjoyable genre-jumping comedic monster movie.

This film has a lot in common with Edgar Wright's recent The World's End in its love of alcohol and aliens, and yet the two movies are also quite different. (For one thing, E. Wright's has close to ten times the budget of J. Wright's). Beginning at sea, below, when something from space crashes into the ocean around Ireland and the crew of a nearby fishing vessel suddenly disappears, we know we're in for trouble. Mr Wright has a fine time building up suspense and finally letting us in on the space travelers' agenda and vulnerability. The only real problem here: those pesky Irish accents. Normally, when the dialog grows uncomfortably difficult to understand, we would simply turn on the English subtitles via Netflix streaming.

When we did that on this film, turns out the all the subtitles appeared in UPPER CASE BOLD -- which is more difficult to read quickly and takes up a lot more space than when upper and lower case letters are used. And with a film this dialog-heavy (you know those yakety-yak Irish!), this meant that sometimes half the screen was filled with subtitles -- which soon proved so annoying we turned them off. Then we did the best we could with our aging ears and probably missed around one-quarter of the verbiage on display, some of which is pretty damn funny. And we still enjoyed the film.

Grabbers, my friends, is an alcoholic's dream come true, for reasons you'll eventually learn. So when the travelers in that space ship begin terrorizing the little town, the townspeople take the proper measures, resulting in one of the funnier several scenes you will have seen in movies of late. There is irony here aplenty, and thankfully it is not underscored but simply adds to the delight.

The able cast is talented and lots of fun, the pacing is just fine (the movie lasts only 94 minutes) and the special effects are surprisingly good. No, they're ever better than that. This is not just a well created and executed pair of monsters. Even their offspring are delightfully thought-out, too. The scene in which those little guys destroy the town bar -- just like we remember from so many western movies -- is simply terrific.

Best of all, Wright and Lehane know their movie clichés well and so are able to upend them often enough to keep us happily on our toes. Which characters survive -- and why -- is always a fun guessing-game in films like this, and so it is once again. The romance (above) -- yes, there's one of those, too -- is handled better than most in this genre, as is the inevitable and final battle with Mr. Big, below. (I do wish they could have found some better way to deal with the last denouement cliché, though. A movie this good deserves a better send-off.)

Grabbers can be streamed on Netflix now, as well as on Amazon Instant Video and on DVD. Monster buffs will flock, of course, but I'll bet some of you who don't necessarily enjoy this sort of film will buy in, too.

Further thoughts on FLIGHT since its disappointing NYFF debut last month

Dat ol' devil, drink, along with the wonders of AA, make a not-so-welcome resurgence in the coincidence-prone, starts-like-a-house-afire-before-fizzling-out film, FLIGHT -- which, after making its debut to close the recent New York Film Festival, opens its nationwide theatrical run this Friday.

The new film (from director Robert Zemeckis and screenwriter John Gatins) stars Denzel Washington, one of the few American movie stars who can still pack 'em into theater seats -- even when, as in this film, he plays a fairly obnoxious alcoholic druggie who can still fly a damaged plane more successfully, it would seem, than anyone else in the world.

It is encouraging to have Mr. Zemeckis (shown at right) -- who in former decades delighted us with everything from I Wanna Hold Your Hand and Back to the Future to Forrest Gump and Roger Rabbit -- directing something other than that faintly obnoxious brand of animation he now seems to prefer, but I wish I could feel a bit more welcoming about the end result: a very well-acted, alternately feel-bad/feel-good, manipulative and mostly mediocre movie. Once the wham-bam beginning-and-succeeding-scenes are over -- which, if you've seen the movie's trailer (and what red-blooded citizen possessing a TV set has not?), you know the entire plot-set-up -- there is little to so but sit back and allow yourself to be lulled by coincidence (isn't it handy that she's being tossed out of her apartment just as he arrives on the scene?) and hammered by nonsensical sentimentality (Mr. Washington's big finale epiphany occurs over a character we barely know and thus seems utterly manufactured).

Consequently, we must content ourselves with some very good acting from just about everybody on board. Washington comes up with his most complex characterization since maybe Training Day; it's not his fault that the movie betrays him via its simple-minded plotting and feel-good (through sadness and tears) resolution.

Ditto Kelly Reilly (above, with Washington) as his off-and-on significant other, who is either in the movie for too lengthy a time or not long enough. Ms Reilly has never given anything less than a sterling performance (that I have seen); she brings to the table such specifics that she can handle just about anything thrown her way. But this movie makes, first, too much of her character and then too little.

Zemeckis' and Gatins' use of that wonderful actor John Goodman (above) is another problem. In his couple of major scenes, Goodman registers so strongly and comically that he throws the film off balance. In his final scene, we go from a kind of sleazy, creepy hilarity to the movie's big, faux-emotional set-piece, and these tonal changes are jarring, to say the least.

Other big names on view include Don Cheadle (above, center), Bruce Greenwood (above, right) and Melissa Leo -- all working hard, in roles that are simply beneath their talent. They're fine, all right, but you end expecting more from--not them--their roles. It's Brian Geraghty, in fact, as Washington's co-pilot, who probably comes off best overall, in terms of his performance matching his character's importance to the movie. (That's Tamara Tunie -- below, right -- and Nadine Velasquez as part of Flight's flight crew.)

On balance, I suspect that the trailer for this film, as exciting as it was, does its source a disservice by raising audience expectations for one kind of movie, done well, while actually delivering another, done in only so-so fashion. Flight premieres this Friday, November 2, all over the U.S. and Canada. Click here, and then enter your zip code next to GET TICKETS NOW, and click on GO to learn if the film is playing near you.