|
At the
Movies War
and Family
By JOSEPH CUNNEEN
Those looking for undemanding movie
distraction can go with confidence to Kevin Reynoldss The Count of Monte
Cristo. The sword fights are vigorous; the hero, Edmond Dantes (James
Caviezel), is a handsome commoner; and Fernand Mondego (Guy Pearce), the
aristocratic villain, is easy to hate. The recent Bravo mini-series with
Gérard Depardieu had more suspense, sex and character complexity, but
the new movie has the advantage of being in English and gives special attention
to the Abbé Faria (Richard Harris), the wise priest and fellow-prisoner
who befriends Dantes at Château dIf.
It doesnt really matter if, like me, youre weak on
post-Napoleonic French history. Fernand, supposedly a friend, perusades the
local magistrate to send Dantes to the dungeon because of his innocent
willingness to deliver a letter for Napoleon. The heroine, Mercedes (Dagmara
Dominczyk), is mostly a passive figure. Told that Edmond has died at
Château dIf, she reluctantly marries the treacherous Fernand but
keeps on her finger the simple string badge of her troth to the hero.
The movie exploits Alexandre Dumas gift for fast-moving
narrative, and the scenery is often spectacular, which largely compensates for
the movies banal dialogue. Life is seen in florid, two-dimensional terms,
especially on Chateau dIf, where Edmonds dismal existence is
interrupted once a year for a strenuous flogging by the evil warden. But at
last the Abbé Faria bursts through the floor of Edmonds cell, and
gives him a crash course in grammar, geography, philosophy and fencing, as well
as a secret map leading to an enormous cache of buried treasure.
The Abbé dies in the dungeon, but Edmond escapes in the
Abbés body bag, only to be captured by pirates. When their leader
forces him to fight Jacopo (Luis Guzmán), one of the pirates, Edmond
disarms him but spares his life, and Jacopo becomes his faithful follower.
After finding the secret treasure, Edmond returns to Marseilles as the wealthy
Count of Monte Cristo and throws an elaborate party that brings all his enemies
together.
The rest of the movie is given over to the execution of his
revenge, hardly the message U.S. audiences most need this season. Edmond, of
course, could plead that there was no United Nations or World Court as yet and
hence no alternative to his just war.
For something more thoughtful and
moving, seek out The Sons Room, a new movie about family loss by Nanni
Moretti, an Italian director previously known only for comedy. Dear
Diary, his previous film, was based on his real-life experience with
cancer, and had him scooting all over Rome on a Vespa, making wisecracks about
the incompetence of doctors. His medical scare may have made Moretti more
reflective, but he remains writer, director and chief actor of his films, and
has not completely surrendered his sense of humor.
The Sons Room begins with a series of deft
touches that describe a genuinely happy family with two high school-age
children. Giovanni (Moretti) enjoys working as a psychotherapist in Ancona and
running along the sea with his handsome son, Andrea (Giuseppe Sanfelice); we
see a credible, non-sensationalized love scene with his beautiful wife, Paola
(Laura Morante); and both attend the basketball games of their daughter, Irene
(Jasmine Trinca).
Then tragedy strikes. Andrea is killed in a diving accident, while
his father is making a rare house call to an emotionally insecure patient. A
terrible moment occurs in which Giovanni betrays his bereavement to Irene,
suddenly frozen on the basketball court. A series of painful scenes end with
the tightening of the screws on the sons coffin. Paola gives up her work,
Giovanni pays only perfunctory attention to his patients, and Irene is forced
to grow up fast. Husband and wife isolate themselves in grief. He rides a
ferris wheel to exaggerate his physical fears; she reads a letter from a girl
Andrea had met on vacation and wants to meet her. Irene says the least they can
do is have a Mass said for her brother. Though the church scene is moving, the
priests sermon on the mystery of evil only enrages Giovanni, and none of
the family goes to Communion.
This is a movie that may bring you to tears, but it truly earns
those tears and is never exploitative. Its compassion is deep and perceptive,
as when Giovanni complains that all their dishes are chipped, and then angrily
breaks the teapot he and Paola once mended together. Deep sorrow coexists with
human comedy, the latter provided mostly by Giovannis patients, who
remain caught up in their own problems. But Moretti avoids presenting these
secondary characters as buffoons, and when a couple of them decide to end their
treatment and thank their analyst, there are moments of healing and acceptance.
The Sons Room won the best picture award at Cannes last May,
and will be on my 10 Best list for 2002. It refuses to paste a neat
resolution over its inherently tragic situation, but offers a sense of survival
and future growth.
Its hardly surprising that the
recent wars in the former Yugloslavia have produced several depressing movies
with a near-apocalyptic outlook. This is all the more reason to praise Danis
Tanovi´cs No Mans Land, which manages to make the Serbian-Bosnian
war seem as absurd as it was deadly. Perhaps this is because Tanovic, a
Slovenian, can see the humanity of participants on both sides, and understands
that the tragedy of conflict can also include farce.
This maneuver confuses both the Serbian and Bosnian commands, who
call in the U.N. peacekeeping forces to investigate. The latter are waylaid by
Jane, an English TV reporter looking for a story. After it becomes clear that
an expert is needed to deactivate the mine beneath ´Cera, her threat of
publicity goads the callous U.N. Gen. Soft to drive up to the front lines with
his girl friend. The German mine expert is no help. Finally, the general gets
the cameras turned off and everyone out of the area. Everyone but poor
´Cera, who is still lying on his back with a mine under him as the movie
ends, ironically, with a lullaby. Amazingly, Tanovi´c manages to make
much of this depressing material funny, and to show us that despite the war
Bosnia remains green and beautiful.
Add Tsai Ming-Liangs name to
your list of Asian directors worth following. His What Time Is It There?
manages to be all at once a study in loneliness, a meditation on time, and an
examination of family dysfunction.
At the outset, an exhausted father smokes a cigarette and dies
without a word being spoken, leaving his son, Hsiao Kang (Lee Kang-Sheng), with
a mother (Lu Yi-Ching) who actively awaits her husbands reincarnation.
Hsiao Kang sells watches on the streets of Taipei, where a lovely customer
(Chen Shiang-Chyi) insists on buying the dual-time wristwatch he is wearing
because she is about to go to Paris. She even brings him a cake as part of the
purchase price. After she leaves, there are several fine comic bits showing
Hsiao Kang changing the hour hand of various clocks around the city to Paris
time.
Tsai knows how to make good use of a quiet moment and never moves
his camera, which somehow magnifies our sense of desire and awareness that the
characters are failing to communicate with each other. The funniest sequence is
one in which the mother ladles a duck and rice dinner onto her husbands
plate as the bewildered Hsiao Kang continues eating. He doesnt understand
why his dead father gets better meals than he does. Less successful are the
scenes showing Chens adventures in Paris. I couldnt believe she
would be left lonely there. What Time Is It There? should appeal to
philosophers and poets, but despite its frequent deadpan hilarity, the overall
experience is melancholy.
Joseph Cunneen is NCRs regular movie reviewer.
National Catholic Reporter, March 1,
2002
|
|