In Daniel Barber & Julia Hart's THE KEEPING ROOM, we see The Civil War from a race/class/feminist angle

"War is cruel," goes the quotation from General William Tecumseh Sherman that begins THE KEEPING ROOM, an initially enticing, small-scale mixture of war film, western, suspense thriller and -- given the leading characters, there is no way around this -- feminist tale of what happens when a couple of unhooked and marauding Union soldiers come up against a trio of put-upon Southern women. The remainder of that "War is cruel" quote, written out in full at the film's beginning, is brought to ugly but believable life in much of the film that follows.

Writer, Julia Hart (at left, above), and director, Daniel Barber (at left, below) do a doozy of a job bringing us into their story -- which is told over the film's first seven minutes with not a word of dialog (unless you're willing to count the barking of a dog and the woman who barks right back).

The incidents we see, however, shatter us with their extreme and unnecessary violence. But, hey, we've got that quote to live up to. The filmmakers do not dwell on excessive gore; we see what we need to: the intended and some unintended results of war. We also note the extreme fear experienced by the victims of that war, who have excellent reason to be afraid.

From that opening seven-minute section, we move to some new characters, our protagonists, those three women: older and younger sisters (played respectively by Britt Marling, above, and Hailee Steinfeld, below,

and the black woman slave (by now a nearly ex-slave, as the War seems about to draw to its horrific close), played by the very fine actress Muna Otaru, shown below).

For roughly half of the running time of the film, Ms Hart's dialog together with Mr. Barber's smart direction keeps us quivering and hooked. We note the nastiness and ferocity of the two antagonists, played by Sam Worthington (below) and Kyle Soller, and feel sorrow at the plight of their victims.

But then, as tension mounts and our protags and antags inevitably meet, the movie begins to pack in an excessive amount of cliché -- who gets shot and who's dead or not -- so that we begin rolling our eyes in anticipation of more of the same. The filmmakers still have a mild surprise or two up their sleeves, but considering the amount of time we're suddenly spending watching women with guns and men with guns sneak around and about each other, the film begins to leach much of its former suspense and originality.

The penultimate scene seems intended to fully demonstrate General Sherman's quotation, while the film's final scene may not appear particularly believable, but then, the movie ends before we can actually judge how well this ploy will play out.

Mr. Barber, who earlier gave us the so-so Michael Caine revenge tale, Harry Brown, demonstrates a good sense of pacing and eye for detail, and his film is atmospherically shot (as above, by German cinematographer, Martin Ruhe) and well-scored (by Martin Phipps/Mearl),  I just wish it had held up a little better (and a little longer), before losing us.

The Keeping Room (the title comes from a dark and untimely coming-of-age tale that the slave tells the sisters), from Drafthouse Films and Cinedigm, after playing a very limited run (in Albuquerque and Chicago earlier this month) heads straight-for-video tomorrow, Tuesday, December 29, available on Digital Download HD. Click here for further details on how to order a DVD or Blu-ray.

VOD and iTunes Debut: John Stuart Wildman's horror/gorer, THE LADIES OF THE HOUSE

If I may make a suggestion to genre fans who like a good, gory horror/thriller: stick with THE LADIES OF THE HOUSE, at least past the first fifteen minutes -- which leave a lot to be desired. After the rather heavy-handed opening, complete with a dumb character reversal and some foreshadowing that even your grandmother might have understood, if not appreciated, the movie begins to gain interest, suspense and pitch black humor, while getting better and better, right up until its fine and fanciful finale.

The product of first-time/full-length filmmaker John Stuart Wildman, shown at left, who directed and co-wrote (with Justina Walford, below), the movie is being marketed as a kind of "feminist grindhouse thriller" -- a description that works pretty well, I think. While it is fun for a change to see the guys stalked and decimated by the gals, instead of the usual other-way-around, I think perhaps real feminists might blanch at some of what goes on here. But that, I suspect, is part of the irony at work. When two brothers and their friend go out to a strip joint to celebrate a birthday, and then decide to follow one of the strippers home, all hell breaks loose.

Part of that hell is completely expected, but other events do indeed surprise, and Mr. Wildman -- whom some of us reviewers/critics know and love from his work as senior publicist at The Film Society of Lincoln Center -- has managed to cast his movie with real talent, particularly regarding those titular "ladies." The male characters -- two out of the three of them, anyway -- are as expendable as are many of the females we see in most grindhouse horror films.

The guys include Rj Hanson, as Kai, the fat and mentally-challenged brother with the birthday (who also is given that nonsensical character change), while Samrat Chakrabarti (above) plays Derek, the typical sleazeball of the lot. Neither actor can rise above his by-the-numbers dialog and characterization. Only Gabriel Horn -- as Kai's semi-decent brother, Jacob -- gets a role eventually worth sinking his teeth into. (A word must be said, too, for an actor named Frank Mosley, who does a very nice job as Piglet,  one of those aforementioned surprises.)

But, ah, the women! The actresses here do themselves proud in creating individual characters of very odd note. All these gals seem to work at the stripclub, which enables them to afford the nice little three-story house (yes, there's a basement) in which most of the tale takes place. There is more than enough gore and blood to sate most slasher-film aficionados, and even a genuine surprise or two (in which, if I am not mistaken, Mr Wildman pays homage to one of the classics of this genre, The Woman from Lucky McKee.

The quartet of ladies include Michelle "Belladona" Sinclair (two photos above), who gets the ball rolling and knows her way around a line reading as well as a lap dance; Farah White (above, right) as the "mother" of the group, who knows her way around a knife;

most specially Melodie Sisk (above, right) as what you might call the "dad" of the group, an actress who can take charge of any scene in a multitude of ways; and the youngest and most love-lorn of the bunch, Brina Palencia (below, and at left, two photos above). All these ladies are quite good, each in her own manner, and they work together, too, creating an ensemble of... well, tease and terror.

The Ladies of the House might seem like heavy-going at first, but as I say, stick with it, and if you a genre fan, rewards will accrue. The movie -- from Gravitas Ventures and running 93 minutes -- hits VOD and iTunes this Friday, May 1.

Open Roads 2013: In Maria Sole Tognazzi's I TRAVEL ALONE, a smart woman matures

Sure to be one of the more popular films in this year's Opens Roads, the new work by Maria Sole Tognazzi is -- in terms of both entertainment and audience apprecia-tion/understanding -- quite a bit more successful than her last work seen in this annual series back in 2009, The Man Who Loves. It's a lot lighter, too -- in theme and on its feet -- than the earlier and darker romantic drama. Best of all, perhaps, for audiences who love to travel but these days can't afford so much of it, I TRAVEL ALONE provides 85 minutes of nearly non-stop reveling at five-star hotels, from Gstaad to Marrakesh, Berlin and some eye-popping Italian locations of which TrustMovies had never seen nor heard.

The film's leading character, Irene, played by the wonderful Margherita Buy (shown below, also in this year's Discovery at Dawn) is one of those "mystery guests" that drive hotels, restaurants and retailers crazy by pretending to be a regular customer but then checking and rating everything from the cleanliness of the room (and staff) to, well, you'll find out quickly, as Ms Tognazzi, shown at right, opens her film with a terrific little segment on some of the things to look for in grading your typical five-star hotel.

As much as Irene loves her work -- and as good as she is at it (her boss keeps piling more hotels on her because, as he notes, the other girls fall in love or marry or get pregnant) -- her own personal life is not so much a mess as barely there.

Her sister and brother-in-law (lovely performances from Fabrizia Sacchi and GianMarcoTognazzi, shown respectively, left and right, above), and their kids (below, whom Irene babysits now and then and actually takes on one of her "rating" trips, at which the kids prove pretty good!) keep her occupied but, as sis points out, it's often as though Irene is not really there.

Her best friend of 20 years is a love-and-sex relationship that didn't work out, played by Stefano Accorsi (below, with whom Ms Buy starred some dozen years ago in Ignorant Fairies),

who is suddenly involved with a woman (Alessia Barela, below) who seems more than merely a one-night-stand, and so Irene squeezes herself into this relationship, as well -- all the while traveling and grading and doing it in first-class fashion.

Watch Irene's concern at one particular hotel switch to a younger couple -- clearly out of their element in this swank environment -- and later see and hear her confront the hotel manager, and you'll view an egalitarian woman at the top of her game, quietly and correctly nailing to the wall the hotel and its supposed service.

The above scene is extremely well written, as is much of the movie, especially the meeting of and the relationship that develops between Irene and a well-known anthropologist, played beautifully by Britain's Lesley Manville (above, right, and below, left).

That relationship and its result set off a change in our heroine. Fortunately, it is one that doesn't presage huge growth or life-shaking consequences. It simply trips a switch that leads to some re-thinking and a little interesting action.

Some might call I Travel Alone feminist. Ms Tognazzi certainly has the concerns of women on her mind, but she doesn't slight nor condescend to her male characters. I'd call the film humanist. I'd also call it a very good movie. It's like taking a wonderful vacation during which your mind and eye get a lot to savor.

One caveat:  Since Irene visits so many hotels, after which in each case she confronts the management and thus gives away her identity, wouldn't she -- and her credit card -- soon be tagged as a "mystery guest"? (She clearly needs, like Jason Bourne, a bunch of different identities, passports and credit cards in order to do her job properly.)

If you don't get the opportunity to see the film during Open Roads -- last evening's showing was sold out, but there is one more on Wednesday, June 12 at 9pm -- don't fret. Yet. I am told that the film may be picked up by one of several foreign-film distributors, and perhaps with a change-of-name to A Five-Star Life. I can understand going for a more mainstream, up-tempo title, but, really, I Travel Alone works quite well, as is. In any case, I'll have more to say, if and when the film opens up commercially. Meanwhile, check out the remaining Open Roads programs by clicking here.

Austin Chick's GIRLS AGAINST BOYS: It's on Blu-ray, where the blood looks better!

TrustMovies missed this little eye-opener when it hit theaters, briefly, earlier this very month (yes, it's but a 26-day wait time between the theater seat and your living-room couch!), so he wanted see if it was as bad as he had heard. Yes and no: ugly as hell and quite a nasty piece of work, it nonethe-less holds you for awhile because the writing and direction are, respectively, believable and professional, and the initial situation of why, exactly, one of our girls is against the boys -- a lying lover and later a date rape -- seems all too real.

But then, as GIRLS AGAINST BOYS continues, we soon realize that the filmmaker, writer/
director Austin Chick (shown at left), although he has made an exploitation movie, has not made anything near a great one -- like The Paperboy, in which depth of character is all -- but rather has taken a somewhat clever idea and allowed it to grow dumber and more obvious as the movie unfurls into something approaching camp. Not only are all the men we see sleaze-bags of one sort or another, they are generally pretty stupid. And the more we see of our two avenging-angel young women, they seem to be rather stupid, as well.

The problem here, I think, is that we ought not to take this film as in any way realistic. It's a fantasy about empowered women taking their anger out on the male population because of -- what? -- eons of our lording it over them, I suppose. As such, the movie has its delectable moments, despite our complete incredulity at the gals' lack of concern regarding everything from fingerprints left at the scenes of their crimes to bodies removed from thence. And what the hell happened to our heroine's cat? Don't ask.

Along the way there are a number of good performances: from the gals: Nicole LaLiberte (above) is scary and all-too-real, emotionally speaking, as the chief villainess (as Chick makes clear, she even needs no psychological history to account for her anger), while Danielle Panebaker (below) is pretty and pliable as our put-upon, and too-easily-seduced heroine.

The guys manage to hit several notes despite most of them being shown to be typically male creeps. Michael Stahl-David (below), as the rapist, is such as asshole, you really kinda root for his (truly awful) demise...

while Andrew Howard (below), as the lying lover, proves very good at begging for his life. In the end we care only for sweet little Liam Aiken, as the single good boy in the bunch.

Mr. Chick, I must say, has some talent, even a little taste. Note how much gorier and bloodier the film might have been in other hands. The filmmaker uses visual restraint where it counts, and gives his movie a couple of marvelously creepy and bizarre scenes. My favorite is the masked Kabuki dancer (below) with the sword who suddenly appears to wreak havoc quite simply, charmingly and terrifyingly.

Yes, Girls Against Boys ought to have been better. But it sure as hell could have been a lot worse. From Anchor Bay Entertainment, the movie, running 93 minutes, hits the street on DVD and Blu-ray this Tuesday, February 26, for sale, rental, VOD and streaming -- depending on where you go to get your action.

ALBERT NOBBS is back: This feminist fable from Garcia & Close enchants and saddens

The one-week "Oscar" qualifying run proved more than worth it for ALBERT NOBBS, as this delicate new jewel of a movie from the director of some of the most delicate work in film history, Rodrigo Garcia -- nabbed three nominations this week: Best Actress (Glenn Close) Best Supporting Actress (Janet McTeer) and Best Achievement in Make-up. Set in Ireland a century or more ago, the movie has its "look" down pat, and although it is what you'd call a small movie (small major cast and done at a surprisingly low budget, considering the need for historical veracity), it seems "right" in all respects.

Colombian-born filmmaker Garcia, shown at right, has worked with Ms Close several times now, and their rapport is a good one for this tale of a woman (the, yes, title character) who has been posing and working as a man for several decades. The subject is never brought up, and the word is never spoken aloud, but Albert Nobbs is a feminist film down to its toes because it shows (without "telling") the plight of women, probably more so in Ireland than in most western countries, in terms of their choices and what little means of making a living was available to them at the time.

A man had infinitely wider choices, even a "man" who was not quite a man, as Albert discovered at a young age, when s/he dressed up in drag and began working a job that would have been unthinkable had s/he looked like her own sex. Pretending tends to be easier if a person can go relatively unnoticed, and this appears to have been Albert's modus operandi.

Just as our "man" disappears into his job, so does Ms Close disappear into Albert (she had a hand in the screenplay, as well, which was based upon a short story by George Moore). The actress keeps things quiet and simple. This is definitely not a "showy" performance and yet it is certainly one of the most subtle displays of acting I've seen -- all the more so because it occurs in a role that would seem to call for some bravura stuff. (Well, "bravura," I guess, is what you make it, and Close has made of it something new and different.)

However, all this subtlety and quiet has a downside -- threatening to grow boring -- but just when it does, a new character is introduced, one Hubert Page, above, played by Ms McTeer (yes, we have another cross-dresser in the film). However, McTeer is what we used to call a "big girl" -- and in every way. Standing more than six feet tall, full of energy and courage, this actress grabs the Hubert character and runs with him, turning her "man" into everything that Albert is not: proud, strong, unafraid and as "male" as can be.

The two actresses balance each other -- and the movie -- nearly perfectly. Were they both to win their "Oscar," that would be lovely, though I expect the Academy members will be more impressed with McTeer's strength than with Close's subtlety. We shall see. Meanwhile, content yourself with the other ace performances that Garcia draws from his superbly chosen cast.

There's Pauline Collins as the main-chance innkeeper into whose employ both Albert and Hubert have come; Brendan Gleeson, as the helpful and caring doctor on premises; and Mia Wasikowska (above, left) and Aaron Johnson (below, and lately John Lennon) as two employees at the hotel/restaurant. Ms Wasikowska especially impresses here. This young actress has turned in such differing performances -- Jane Eyre, Alice in Tim Burton's verison of Wonderland, Restless, The Kids Are All Right and That Evening Sun -- as to be nearly unrecognizable from role to role.

In Mr. Johnson's character of Joe, we have a young man who might very well be the movie's hero -- if times were not so bad, and Joe had a bit more feeling for others. His and Ms Wasikowska's story is the other engine that keeps the movie rolling, and through it, we see the pain of class distinction among several injustices. We also see how an epidemic of sickness cuts through society, and how the bourgeoisie fawns over "royalty" (in the person of Jonathan Rhys Meyers, below, doing a couple of walk-ons here).

Albert Nobbs, from Liddell Entertainment and Roadside Attractions, opens nationwide for its return theatrical engagement this Friday, January 27, in what is really an enormous release for a small, independent movie like this. More power to ya, Albert! Click here to see all cities and theaters.

In SILENT SOULS Aleksei Fedorchenko makes wondrous use of the four elements

An-honest-to-goodness "art film" by way of Russia, SILENT SOULS from Siberian-born filmmaker Aleksei Fedorchenko, shown below, works in nearly any way and as almost any thing you'd care to call it: art film, mystery, anthropology, poetry, or oddest of all, a kind of accidental (or maybe not) feminist tale. A small, 74-minute jewel of art -- visual and verbal -- the film tracks the very strange road trip made by a couple of modern male mem-bers of the culture of Merja (which, according to the press materials for this film, is "an ancient Finno-Ugric tribe from Lake Nero, a picturesque region in West Central Russia"). OK: I'll go with that.

However, if I were soon to be told that this whole "Merjan" thing were a put-on, and that the movie was some kind of narrative mockumentary, created out of whole cloth, I'd accept it just as willingly. For Silent Souls, whatever it is, exists as the kind of "truth" that a genuine art film manages to create entirely on its own. From the first, beauty of place combines with a narration of piquant words, well-chosen and -spoken by our narrator, Aist (Igor Sergeev), below with birds, who fills us in on his own life and history, as well as that of his best friend Miron (Yuriy Tsurilo, shown two photos down), as the film moves along. We also get a heady dose of Merja cultural habits, sometimes quite specific and strange.

Miron, you see, has suddenly become a widower, and he asks Aist to accompany him, along with his late wife's body -- which they must first bathe and clean (this will remind you of Jewish custom) -- on the ritual "journey of goodbye" for which Merja culture provides. They depart, and their journey becomes, on one level, an engagement with the four elements -- earth air, fire and water -- in ways for which you will hardly be prepared.

This also turns the film, intentionally or not -- and if not, then this is simply another instance in which the artist arrives at his point intuitively rather than intentionally --  into a very strange feminist fable. For all the proclamations of love that Miron makes toward his late wife, the film also shows clearly that she, as well as every woman we see here, are simply objects. They are to be worshiped, perhaps, but they have no place nor personality of their own, no needs worth meeting, no reason to exist except to please, and mostly pleasure, their man. For all we know Miron's wife may have committed suicide.

Now, this male chauvenism may indeed be one of the cornerstones of  Merja culture (and maybe by extension, Russian, eastern, western -- hell, worldwide -- culture), but what this movie does with it is quite extraordinary.  As the body is transported, at one point the auto must stop for a roadblock, and one cannot help but wonder if, in other hands, this tale might easily become a noir mystery: how to murder your wife, Merja style. Further, the film's ending -- a momentary surprise, if not an outright shock -- becomes a kind of judgment on these men that makes sense on a number of levels.

And yet, throughout, there is so much beauty on display -- in the bleak landscape, framed with a artist's eye; in the words that pour out of Aist, about his family, his life, his lack of love (the fine screenplay is by Denis Osokin)-- that this feminist theme never unbalances the movie. Silent Souls is a work of art that is utterly accessible, intelligent, riveting and simply gorgeous in its quiet, un-showy way.

The movie, from Shadow Distribution, after making waves at the Venice, Toronto and New York Film Festivals, opens theatrically in New York at the Angelika Film Center tomorrow, Friday, September 16, and in Los Angeles area on September 30 at Laemmle's Music Hall 3 and Town Center 5 cinemas. Further playdates, I would hope, will come, for this is clearly one of the year's best films.