Roy Andersson is back -- and treading water -- with ABOUT ENDLESSNESS

They're all here, once again, those special pleasures of viewing a film by Swedish master Roy Andersson: the stationary camera, perfect compositions, elegance, ugliness, humor (dry, dark), and above all quietude -- even amidst what would normally be considered a terribly trying time (a modern-day Christ being persecuted as he carries his cross uphill in one of those uber-sanitary Scandinavian towns). 

Beginning with a Chagall-like image (above) of a man and woman floating in the sky, Andersson's newest, ABOUT ENDLESSNESS, is only his fourth full-length film in 20 years. None of these are what you'd call lengthy (maybe 95 or 100 minutes), and his new one lasts but 78. 

Yet for TrustMovies, this one seems the longest, thanks to a certain repetition and sameness that have clearly set in to the filmmaker's work (Mr. Andersson is shown at right). Not that his situations are the same (though they are often pretty similar), but his themes -- from religion, war, commerce, communication (or the lack of it), and a populace that is at best utterly brainwashed -- remain front and center, with little new to be said about any of these. 

What the filmmaker has done, I think, is to pare down each of his segments more and more to what is currently coming very close to the bone. (Andersson has always been a minimalist; he's simply more so now.)

He's right, of course, in that society is certainly not changing (except for the worse), but then neither is his own vision. And since there are usually a few years inserted between his last and the debut of his latest, we're more primed for yet another chapter of Andersson-ville.

And so as About Endlessness was unspooling, I found myself, as ever, engaged with the simultaneous beauty/ugliness of it all. At the same time, my mind wandered back to his first (and still best) full-length film, Songs From the Second Floor, and how much more deeply, movingly, often shockingly, these same themes were rendered.

Well, society certainly ain't changing ('cept for the worse), so can you blame a filmmaker for staying his course? (Even treading water, Roy Andersson puts most other movie-makers to shame in so many ways.) And if we perceive an awful lot of state-sanctioned, by-rote behavior here, I can also tell you that the likes of Adolf Hitler makes an appearance, as well.

The refrain, "I saw a man..." (or sometimes a woman) occurs often here, as do forms of love and even thermodynamics. And if I can detect any really special loathing of Andersson's, it just might be toward psychotherapy and its practitioners (maybe even toward the entire medical profession). 

I might suggest that it's time for Andersson to move on, but as the world appears to be arriving at its  end, in its own not-so-good time, perhaps it is this filmmaker who is the best choice to help us properly embrace it all.

From Magnolia Pictures, in Swedish with English subtitles (damn few, actually; fast, snappy dialog is not Mr. Andersson's thing) and running 78 minutes, About Endlessness opens theatrically this Friday, April 30 in limited release. (It will not be challenging Godzilla and King Kong for the box-office crown.) Click here for more information on the film and its theatrical and/or digital-viewing venues.

Netflix streaming tip: CHANGE IN THE AIR -- Try Dianne Dreyer/Audra Gorman's unusual and quite beautiful bit of uplift

If you follow this blog at all, you already know how anti-organized religion TrustMovies certainly is. And yet, by the end of the 2018 film CHANGE IN THE AIR, now available via Netflix streaming, he had undergone about as close to a religious experience as he may be capable. And, no, we're not talking Jesus, Moses, Buddha or Muhammad here.

Rather, this very small but surprisingly expansive movie manages to gift us with the kind of appreciation of our natural world and the people in it that few films even try -- let alone achieve. And fucking hell, in the midst of global warming, the most corrupt and incompetent political administration in my lifetime, the current global pandemic and, oh, let's see, what else? -- do we ever need right now something as joyful and caring as this film!

Director Dianne Dreyer (at right) and screenwriter Audra Gorman have concocted a tale of humanity put in touch with its most personal needs, desires, regrets and hopes in a manner of a kind of mystery. And, yes, you could even liken this film to one of those religious mystery plays or old -- made spanking new via an original combination of symbolism and art in which the otherworldly bumps up against the mundane, and in the process ignites a fervent understanding and appreciation of the wonders all around (and including) us.

The screenplay offers characters who are quirky but never beyond-the-pale and a situation -- a mysterious young woman appears in a small town and begins receiving each day a huge sack of mail all to herself -- that can't help but grab us. Who is she and what's going on?  That this character is played by an exquisite, ethereal Rachel Brosnahan (above), nearly unrecognizable from her Mrs. Maisel role, let alone that in House of Cards, will make this movie, for many, a must-see. And Ms Brosnahan is terrific, walking a fine line between symbol and reality with perfect grace and ease.

The rest of the cast is not only exceptional, each makes good on his/her storied reputation by offering a plethora of moments that are both believable and worth treasuring. The neighbors surrounding the house in which the Brosnahan character lives are played by Mary Beth Hurt and Olympia Dukakis (above, left and  right, respectively), M. Emmet Walsh (as Dukakis' dementia-addled husband, below),

Aidan Quinn as the local cop (below), and Macy Gray (shown at bottom, left) leading the local youth choir in a wonderful rendition of Leonard Cohen's Anthem that helps bring the film to a rousing, moving close, sound-wise, even as, sight-wise, we're treated to a beautiful coalescence of those symbols we've been viewing and considering.

Dreyer and Gorman offer us just enough explanation, without ever overdoing it, that we can take this and figure out what we need in order to -- just as does the movie -- come to some fruition. Nowhere is this more evident than in the lovely scene between Ms Hurt and the local postman (played so well by Satya Babha, below, left, that you'll want to see this actor again, ASAP), as the two of them surreptitiously open and read the mail that is being delivered and are slowly blown away by it -- just as you will be, too.

Why? Well, see this remarkable film and start mulling it all over. In addition, the way in which Change in the Air calls attention to and appreciation of our natural world is much needed these days. Bird lovers in particular should be thrilled by what they see. In that regard, a word must be said for actor Peter Gerety (shown below, right). I've seen this fellow in many films, but here he becomes indelible, giving a rich, real and lovely performance in the kind of supporting-actor role that doesn't come around at all frequently.

And then there's Ms Brosnahan. So different is she here from almost anything else I can recall that this alone ought to make you stick the movie in your Netflix DVD queue or streaming list.

Originally released in very limited theatrical fashion by Screen Media Films and running just 94 minutes, Change in the Air is available digitally now via Netflix and elsewhere for purchase or rental.

Home video debut for Matteo Botrugno, Daniele Coluccini and Nuccio Siano's impressive and beautifully written Italian drama, TAINTED SOULS

Note: This excellent film is now available

-- as of September 2019, at least -- via Amazon Prime

The original Italian title of TAINTED SOULS -- a new drama about a neighborhood, bisexuality, drugs, money and power -- is Il contagio, which translates, as you might guess, to The Contagion. Perhaps that sounded like too much of a sci-fi thriller for proper international distribution, but it makes a much better (and less pompous) title than Tainted Souls There is nothing at all pompous about this beautifully wrought and gorgeously written exploration of love (mostly unrequited), loss, and life among Italians trying so hard to better themselves with little hope of actually achieving this.

The films directing duo --  Matteo Botrugno and Daniele Coluccini (shown above, with Signore Coluccini on the left) -- also wrote the film, with some help from one of its stars, Nuccio Siano, who plays (and very well) Carmine, the major villain of the piece. One of the many characters in this tale of a Rome neighborhood, which looked to me maybe lower-but-still-striving-middle-class, is a successful novelist in the midst of an affair with a 40-year-old body builder, Marcello (Vinicio Marchioni, below), who is married to a woman who loves him, even if they rarely, if ever, have sex. Marcello's main goal is going to the gym and keeping that still-beautiful body in shape.

His writer/lover, called The Professor, and played to perfection by Vincenzo Salemme (shown below, center), sort of narrates the film. It is his words we hear at the beginning, and again those same words at film's end. Yet what a difference that second time around! If you are not moved to tears or perhaps experience a kind of catharsis at all you have seen and what it has meant, as those words resonate again, I shall be very surprised.

In the midst of the film, the professor speaks at length of what Marcello means to him, and the words are perhaps the most beautiful and moving I've ever heard expressed about "the love object." If this is not art, I don't know what is. I was certain at this point that the movie must have been based on a novel, with this portion of dialog taken word-for-word from the source. Evidently not. We have one, two, maybe all of the three co-writers to thank, as well as Signore Salemme's beautiful delivery of those words. (My mistake: Upon a second viewing of Tainted Souls, during the end credits, I found that the film is indeed based upon a novel, Il Contagio, written by Walter Sitti. I hope Signore Sitti was pleased with the film version.)

We also get to know a number of other tenants of the building and experience a peek into their lives, some of which are sad indeed (a robbery and fur coat figure into things). In the second half (there's a Three Years Later title card), the film turns its attention from Marcello to the character of Mauro (Maurizio Tesei, below), who plays second-in-command to Carmine's crime lord.

Mauro has earlier been instrumental in saving Marcello from the wrath of Carmine (Signore Siano, shown below). It is not clear if there may be a sexual attraction between Mauro and Marcello or simply the chance for a special and perhaps deep friendship.

Either way, that increasing contagion of the power/drugs/wealth combo will eventually destroy this relationship, too. Though the filmmakers deal with some awful and violent stuff, they never rub anything in our faces. We understand what happens and feel its horror and weight but are not subjected to anything approaching slasher-movie nonsense. (A stoning, below, is handled with a surprising, Saint Sebastian-like combination of terror and grace.)

Instead we get a good dose of everything from philosophy and religion to economics, politics and class (there are divergences in that latter category, it seems, even among the criminal set). Finally, as the end credits roll, we feel that we've lived with and loved these people. We understand them, suffer with them, and feel deeply their humanity -- even, in some cases, when there is almost nothing of it that remains.

The film also treats its female characters with unusual clarity and affection, especially Marcello's wife (played by Anna Foglietta, below, of Escort in Love and the recent Diva!), who handles her "other woman" role with the sadness, hope-against-hope and gravity it deserves.

From Breaking Glass Pictures, running 112 minutes and in Italian with English subtitles, Tainted Souls makes its home video debut tomorrow, Tuesday, July 24, on DVD and VOD -- for purchase and/or rental.

A great film arrives: João Dumans and Affonso Uchôa's quietly magnificent ARABY

"Stick with it, please." I've said this before, but I don't think it has ever been more necessary or appropriate than with ARABY, the new movie from the writing/directing duo of João Dumans and Affonso Uchôa: If you stay with this quiet little film -- despite its leisurely pacing, refusal to overly dramatize, and a protagonist who suddenly shifts from the expected one to an entirely different person -- by the time you reach the conclusion of this 98-minute movie, you will have experienced labor, the workplace, love, life, death and maybe as close to the whole of humanity as any single movie is able to provide.

Filmmakers Dumans (above, right) and  Uchôa (above, left) build their small monument to the life of 90 per cent from this statement uttered by their protagonist early on: "In the end, all we have is what we remember." From this, they have crafted a tale that concentrates on but one man (Aristides de Sousa, shown below) yet takes in much of our world, building via an aggregate of detail to a conclusion that, though in no way surprising, still suddenly seems to expand into enormous compassion and understanding.

How in hell did the filmmakers manage this feat? As best TrustMovies can tell, it comes via a kind of visual and verbal poetry that, like all else here, goes nearly unnoticed -- until it suddenly begins resonating like crazy. (I may simply be slow; all this might resonate a lot earlier with you.) Maybe it has to do with that trickly transfer of feeling for a single human being into an understanding of humanity itself.

This is a Brazilian film, after all. I've long thought that Brazil seems to treat its people about as cavalierly, if not in downright uncaring fashion, as any supposedly "democratic" South American country. We see this in a government that spends oodles to host the Olympic Games only to put its populace in ever more dire straits. And via films from Elite Squad and its follow-up (that bang you atop the head with violence against the people) to the quieter, probing films of Kleber Mendonça, the great preponderance of humanity is alway given the shaft.

In Araby, this is true all over again, and yet via its protagonist and the people he meets along his journey of laboring-just-to-survive, we enter the world of the masses in a manner subtly different from other films. Here, it's via a kind of memoir our hero has composed (when we at last learn why and where he began this memoir, it becomes ever more meaningful and humane) that tells his story as best he is able.

The lovely, heartbreaking irony here comes from the fact that our hero, Cristiano, feels that he cannot communicate or express himself very well. Yet the filmmakers provide him voice and view so that he is able to give us everything we need to understand the love he feels, the loneliness he experiences and his constant need to not simply survive but to communicate.

I would think that there must be millions of workers in China and India -- hell, even some Trump acolytes here in the USA -- who could identify with and understand this movie.  There are no "labels" attached to any view here, and yet Dumans and Uchôa offer up enormous political commentary. By the time the film has come full circle, its impact has burgeoned into such collective power and momentum that, days after I've viewed it, I am still reliving and thinking about this movie.

From Grasshopper Film, in Portuguese with English subtitles, Araby opens this Friday in New York City at the Film Society of Lincoln Center, and then will hit another four cities on either coast, with -- one hopes -- even more cities to follow over the weeks to come. Click here and then scroll down to the bottom of the page and click on Where to Watch to view all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters. 

Criterion Blu-ray/DVDebut for Aki Kaurismäki's refugee charmer, THE OTHER SIDE OF HOPE

How does he do it -- Aki Kaurismäki? How does he manage to wring so much humor, charm and pathos out of what is basically just deadpan storytelling. After viewing so many of his films (Kaurismäki is shown below), I'm still surprised by each new one, often quite similar in its themes and even cast members (he uses his own ensemble most often) to what has come before. Just looking at the stills shown below from THE OTHER SIDE OF HOPE, after nearly a month has gone by since I first watched the new Blu-ray from the The Criterion Collection, brings a smile to my face all over again as I remember the incidents in their quiet, crazy, sweet glory.

Kaurismäki's latest begins with maybe a nod to Samuel Beckett's Happy Days (shown below), as we meet one of our two heroes, a middle-eastern immigrant (played by Sherwan Haji) whose journey to Finland, which we learn of a bit later in the film, has been a fraught one indeed.

Part of the magic this filmmaker manages comes from his understanding of calm and how to make use of it, quietly forcing us to look, really see, and begin to somehow feel via the characters we're watching.

Sure, it's easy (well, for some Americans, anyway) to take the side of an beleaguered immigrant. But what of our other hero (played by Sakari Kuosmanen, shown center, below), a family man who suddenly leaves his wife to strike out on his own? These two could hardly seem more different at first, even second, glance, yet what binds them is the kind of common decency that unfortunately seems all too uncommon throughout the world these days.

Kaurismäki takes his sweet time bringing the two together. First we must understand each one's situation and begin to bond a little with the very idea of these guys. A restaurant, seemingly on its last legs, enters the picture, and its staff proves every bit as quietly hilarious as so much else in this Finnish filmmaker's oeuvre.

The decision to turn the place into an Asian eatery -- and what follows -- is deadpan heaven. As are many of the little musical interludes that crop up along the way.

Of course Kaurismäki courts sentimentality, basing his movie around the immigrant/refugee question and all the baggage that goes with it. Yet thanks to his innate humor, a clear-eyed look at how immigration policy often works (or actually doesn't) in the western world, and, yes, it must be said, a few coincidences, too, instead of sentimentality, the filmmaker manages something that certainly approaches, if not actually reaches, "truth".

If you've never seen a Kaurismäki movie, this one's as good as any a place to enter his world. If you already know that world, you'll probably want to dive right back into it.

The Other Side of Hope -- in Finnish with English subtitles and running 100 minutes -- hit the streets on DVD and a fine Blu-ray transfer last month from The Criterion Collection. As usual, with Criterion, there are beaucoup bonus features, so film buffs can, as ever, get their fill.

THE SQUARE: Ruben Östlund's Cannes winner boldly explores the western world's hypocrisy

OK. Ruben Östlund may indeed be something of a smartypants (as certain reviewers would have you believe), but the "smart" part of that word Mr. Östlund possesses in spades. If Force Majeure and now THE SQUARE are any indication, this fellow is a bold, inventive and creative filmmaker who knows what he wants to say and how to deliver it in an entertaining, surprising, thought-provoking fashion. Anyone who can keep me (not to mention my often less-than-easy-moviegoing spouse) glued to the screen for two-and-one-half hours, as he does with this latest endeavor, and make it feel like maybe only as long as a 90-minute movie, has my vote.

To my mind, what Östlund, shown at right, is doing here is nothing less than indicting today's western society for all its many and major sins. He tackles everything from the art world and its big-money benefactors to family values, PR/marketing, feminism, free speech, the masculine ego, political correctness and more. And nobody gets off the hook: not the wealthy, the poor or those in between. That he does all this while situating his film in Sweden -- one of several Scandinavian countries long known for their progressive, forward-looking, pro-people values -- makes the indictment all the more powerful. And maybe more difficult to accept. Setting the film in the USA would have been too easy, particularly these days. But handing it to us from one of the countries many of us so admire is really rubbing-it-the-fuck-in.

The filmmaker's main character (played by the suddenly memorable Danish actor Claes Bang, above) is named, and probably not coincidentally, Christian, and he's the head of a popular and prestigious art museum where he is planning a new and important show. Divorced but also a reasonably caring father of two girls, he is first shown to us waking up from a nap and having to do yet another interview with a journalist. Then later, on his way to work, when someone (a woman, it sounds like) screams for help but no one immediately comes to her aid, Christian and one other fellow do. From there, surprise topples upon surprise and we are soon utterly hooked.

The Sweden we see here -- from the art museum to the marketing firm who handles its needs, to the poor who beg, and the folk who (mostly) don't pay attention to them -- is expectedly, maybe wonderfully diverse. Pets and children are welcomed in a workplace where women have risen to (or very near) the top. Much of the society we see here is just as we might want it -- but so seldom get it.

And yet, humanity's penchant for hypocrisy keeps spurting out like the cum that fills Christian's condom (post-sex with that journalist, played by the marvelously reliable and increasingly versatile Elizabeth Moss, above), the laying-to-rest of which becomes one of the film's funniest and most provocative set pieces.

The museum's dinner for its benefactors, together with the entertainment provided (above), is another of these. But perhaps the most special and incisive continuing thread throughout the movie pertains to stolen property, all that goes into its retrieval, and the unintended consequences that follow.

How Östlund threads it all together, while making us laugh and wince and drop our jaw is simply a marvel. And to those who call the film, as did The New York Times' A.O. Scott, "complacent, craven and clueless," I can only wonder if they are demanding something sweeter and more humane. Not here, buddy. Human, yes, you'll get plenty of that. And if you do not find some, maybe much, of your own behavior mirrored here (if you are man or woman enough to admit it, that is), I shall be very surprised.

From Magnolia Pictures and running an amazingly swift 152 minutes, The Square opened in the cultural centers a week or so back and hits South Florida this Friday, November 10, in the Miami area at both the Tower Theater and the Miami Beach Cinematheque, as well as elsewhere around the country. Wherever you live, click here to find the theater(s) nearest you.