Klaus Härö's THE FENCER -- shortlisted for 2015's BFLF Oscar -- finally opens in the USA

Lovely, old-fashioned movie-making that has a splendid, based-on-real-life story to tell, it's easy to understand why THE FENCER made the early cut for a Best Foreign Language Film nomination two years back. It's also easy to see why it did not make the final cut of five films, as -- good as it is -- it's a little too predictable in its style, storytelling and just about all else. But that should not detract from the pleasure and enjoyment the movie will bring to audiences, particularly, I suspect, the senior crowd.

As written by Anna Heinämaa and directed by Klaus Härö (shown at left), the film is consistently a treat to view -- even if it is set in a pretty ugly Estonia of the 1950s. That little country, bordering the Baltic Sea across from Finland, was invaded by Germany during World War II, and then occupied post-war by the USSR until that Communist behemoth dissolved into its continuing orgy of Oligarchy Capitalism after 1991. The film begins with a title card explaining how certain Estonian men, having been forcibly conscripted into the German Nazi army, had to then hide their past from the Russian authorities or face prison and worse -- for something over which they had no control.

Such is the fate of the film's hero, Ender, played with a understandable combination of fear and withholding by Märt Avandi (shown above), who flees Leningrad for Estonia and there takes a job teaching physical education in a small-town school.

In better days, he was a competitive fencer, so when he is forced by his nasty superior to coach a Saturday sports class, he ends up teaching that class how to fence.

If his nemesis, the school principal (nicely played by Hendrik Toompere, above center), is a bit too much of a lip-smacking villain (as is his overly eager assistant (Jaak Prints, above, left), well, this is all part of the film's old-fashioned fun.

As is Ender's newly-found girlfriend, another teacher at his school, portrayed with the necessary obeisance-masking-deeper-grit that was required by women back in the 1950s (and, oh gosh, often today, too) by the lovely actress, Ursula Ratasepp (above, center right).

The students are pretty much standard-issue, except for two of them: Jaan, a boy whose caring and intelligent grandfather (Lembit Ulfsak, above, left, of the wonderful Tangerines) evidently has in his past some issues of interest to the Russian police, and the quietly intense girl, Marta (a terrifically alert and focused performance from young Liisa Koppel, shown

at bottom and on the poster image, top), who is the first to ask for fencing lessons and goes on be a part of the fencing team entered into the competition in Leningrad (above) that will bring all the movie's plot strands together for an effective climax.

As I say, other than the unusual tale told, together with its accompanying history and location, the movie is relatively predictable. But it is every bit as enjoyable, too.

From CFI Releasing, in Estonian and Russian with English subtitles, and running 99 minutes, The Fencer opens theatrically this Friday, July 21, in New York City at the Angelika Film Center, and on August 11 in the Los Angeles area at Laemmle's Royal and Playhouse 7 and in other cities simultaneously. Here in South Florida, it will open on August 18 at the Coral Gables Art Cinema. To see all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters,
click here and then scroll down.

DVDebut -- a don't-miss that almost everyone did: Nae Caranfil's CLOSER TO THE MOON

"First, we arrest the comrades who make trouble, and then we assign them a crime." Those words slip from the lips of a Romanian policeman circa 1960, working of course under the control of the USSR. But it could easily be coming from the mouth of any of the world's abusers-in-power -- current or past. In CLOSER TO THE MOON, a terrifically original and entertaining movie about a bizarre incident that happened in that tiny eastern European country and involved a group of Jewish friends, anti-Nazi freedom fighters during WWII who are now out of favor with the conniving Commies in charge of the state.

The movie is also about the magic of filmmaking, which should make it a must-see for film buffs. And as it stars two of the world's better and more under-rated/ under-seen actors (shown on poster above) -- Mark Strong and Vera Farmiga -- and was written and directed by a Romanian we ought to know better and see more of (Nae Caranfil, at right), this just adds to the don't-miss ammunition.

What really makes the movie special however, is the manner in which it tackles those same old bugaboos: anti-Semitism (this time via the Soviets and their satellites) and the abuse of power by Fascistic dictators under the guise of Socialism. It's a film that treats terrible problems we've seen done time and again with dead seriousness and often horror.

The difference is that here all this is handled with a kind of charm and finesse that still manages to treat the ideas and goings-on with intelligence and respect. Thanks to the concept of making this a film about a film (and about filmmaking and acting, too), Caranfil, as writer and director, is able to tread that fine and often slippery line between serious subject and entertaining style with surprising dexterity.

I am not comparing this film to something like Life Is Beautiful that turned the Holocaust into an chance for laughs and sentimentality. Closer to the Moon does something a lot more interesting: giving us life and death, love and sex, tradition and a taste of modernity, art and propaganda, achievement and sacrifice, all within a movie within a movie -- in which ironies abound but are never cheap.

The mystery at the core is why this group of people did what they did. An answer surfaces but explains only partially. The real explanation involves history, prejudice and art as a kind of freedom (or maybe freedom as a kind of art). In addition to Farmiga and Strong, the fine actors include Christian McKay (above, center), Harry Lloyd (below, left), Alan Corduner, Anton Lesser, Joe Armstrong, Tim Plester and David de Keyser.

Once again, our cultural guardians -- who managed to give this film a dismal 38 % rating on Rotten Tomatoes -- missed the boat. (Audiences however, knew better: 78% on Rotten Tomatoes and a 7.6 rating on the IMDB). When an arthouse/mainstream movie is this well-conceived and well-executed in the writing, directing and acting departments, and is full of ideas and simply beautiful to view, passing it up is a dumb idea indeed.

So take a chance when Closer to the Moon appears on DVD -- from IFC Films and Sundance Selects and running 112 minutes -- this coming Tuesday, September 15.

In BURNING BUSH, Poland's Agnieszka Holland tackles Russian repression in Czechoslovakia

From post-WWII through the fall of the Berlin Wall, Eastern Europe under USSR-sponsored Communism was no fun fest. And though we've had plenty of filmic examples of life under these various Communist regimes (from Knife in the Water to The Lives of Others), few have captured that peculiar sense of near-constant drudgery and dread as well as does Agnieszka Holland in her three-part, four-hour BURNING BUSH (Horící ker), made for HBO Europe.

Ms Holland, shown at right, has by now given us so many intelligent and provocative dramas about her home country and certain neighboring states that Burning Bush -- which tells of the student group and its members who began to sacrifice themselves as human torches on the altar of democracy after the Russians cracked down on Czechoslovakia in those depressing days post-Prague Spring -- seems a more than fitting capper to her pretty much brilliant career. I'm not saying it's over, either; after this one, Holland directed the recent remake of Rosemary's Baby for TV. (Are only Polish directors allowed to film the Ira Levin novel?)

The event that begins the movie (the initial immolation, above) would seem to be horrible enough. But, then, most of us Americans haven't a clue to the kind of life lived under governments which were themselves under the thumb of their USSR masters. This life would include near-constant surveillance, betrayals large and small, and careers stunted or ended by behavior that might seem exemplary in western society. (Having said this, I do realize that this sort of life is now becoming more and more prevalent here in America, too.)

So, yes, as awful as is the first burning and another that follows fairly soon after, how the state -- the Czech powers that serve their Russian masters -- handles all this becomes the heart of the movie and proves worse even than the burnings themselves. To Holland's great credit, she allows us to understand why the Czechs in power would want to placate the Russians. (They must prevent the burning as being seen as an act of defiance of Russian control, or tanks will again invade the country and its already shaky government may be removed altogether.) But to what lengths these subservient Czechs go and how shabbily, how nastily they carry these out makes for one of the bleakest looks yet at the Eastern block.

As written by newcomer, Stephan Hulik, the teleplay involves a wide range of characters -- from the student group that initiates the bombings (some of whom are shown below) to the family (above) of the first victim/suicide, Jan Palach; from the government officials who try to tarnish the dead boy as being a dupe of right-wing fascists to the lawyer, a woman, who takes on the case when that family sues the official who slandered their son; from that lawyer's boss, whose daughter is part of the student group, to the lawyer's husband, a doctor who loses his hospital job -- weaving their stories together with credibility and finesse.

Doing the right thing has seldom seemed so fraught and devastating, nor has decency appeared so utterly useless. Betrayals are everywhere, with family pitted against friend. The 60s, Czech-style, are recreated here with surprising efficiency and a smart memory, from the homes and apartments and what they contain to fashions and automobiles.

The film is full of fine performances, with standouts from Tatiana Pauhofová (above, right) as the lawyer, Jaroslava Pokorná (three photos above, as well as bottom, left) as the mother of Jan Palach, Jan Budar (below) as the doctor/husband, and Martin Huba (at bottom, right) as the official who tries to destroy the reputation of Jan Palach. Everyone is a victim here, but some seem all too eager to betray and profit from that betrayal, while others betray because they want to save their own family. Ms Holland and Mr. Hulik keep a tight rein on the movie's morality; few characters merge totally unscathed.

Holland creates a mood of uneasiness both visually (the main cinematographer was Martin Struba) and musically (the score is by Antoni Komaza-Lazarkeiwicz) that hangs over the entire film. Instead of a happy ending, we get worse and then worse. While the events shown here happened 45 years ago, there is -- as those who stay for the end credits will learn -- a posthumous bit of upbeat news. That's nice. But it's way too late. It' s also about, as ever, a state congratulating itself for doing now what it didn't have the balls to do then.

Burning Bush, from Kino Lorber and running 240 minutes, will open in New York City this Wednesday, June 11, at Film Forum. Because of the lengthy running time, the film will be divided into two parts but with only a single admission charge for both. Part One lasts 160 minutes, Part Two only 80 minutes. If you do not wish to see the film at consecutive screenings, a voucher will be distributed to those patrons who prefer to come back later to see Part Two. In the weeks to come, it will shown in several other cities, too. Click here then scroll down to see all currently scheduled playdates.

To make it even easier to see this exemplary piece of historical drama, the film also makes its streaming debut via FANDOR on the same day as its theatrical release, Wednesday, June 11.