Arctic: NZIFF Review

Arctic: NZIFF Review

Mixing elements of All Is Lost, The Revenant, 127 Hours and every other wilderness survival tale you've seen, director Joe Penna's Arctic benefits from a minimalist turn from Mads Mikkelsen and maximum use of the snowy world around him.

We join Mikkelsen's unnamed man Overgard atop a snowy peak, as he appears to be digging a trench.

But as Penna's camera pulls back, the reveal is that of an SOS carved into the ground.

With time spent on there unknown, but with Mikkelsen's Overgard clearly ensconced in the icy peaks for a while, Arctic wastes no time in showcasing the climate and the measured approach of the leading man.

With no soundtrack to note initially, and with the sound of the wind howling, Mikkelsen's lost-in-the-snow man spends his time handcranking a beacon, hoping for a hit. But it doesn't turn out as he'd expect.

To say little happens in the sparse Arctic is perhaps an understatement.

But with Mikkelsen throwing everything into the performance, and when it becomes clear that it's not just him to consider, Arctic ramps up into a what would you do approach that's as icy as the climate surrounding it.

As Mikkelsen rages against the elements, throwing frustration to the wind only in the worst incidents and leading you to empathise with him for it, it becomes a question of who's keeping who alive in this, as he wrestles with more than just the harshness of the land but the potential futility of what he's doing.

It's a classic case of self-survival and the fight against the odds - a "we'll be fine" versus "you've got to be kidding me" and Mikkelsen channels it well, using silence for maximum effect and frustration sparingly.

Arctic may be destined for a debate over its ending (a la All is Lost), but the tension throughout, while not exactly palpable, is present, leading you to be kept in its icy grip.

Details don't need to be added in, back story doesn't need to be fleshed out and everything is garnered only from what's on screen - it's a compelling way to burrow in to the survival story and while Arctic may not be for everyone, given its pace, as a piece of survivalist cinema, it more than earns its place in the genre.

Mission: Impossible - Fallout: Film Review

Mission: Impossible - Fallout: Film Review

Cast: Tom Cruise, Rebecca Ferguson, Henry Cavill, Simon Pegg, Ving Rhames, Alec Baldwin, Angela Bassett, Vanessa Kirby

Director: Christopher McQuarrie

It's already been lavished with breathless praise, and it's fair to say that the sixth Mission: Impossible film goes some way to presenting a superlative piece of action blockbuster material, thanks to some truly breath-taking action sequences and Tom Cruise's commitment to live-action stunts.

But in parts, Mission: Impossible - Fallout falters with dialogue and wooden characters barking out seeming like something out of the 1970s spy genre.

Plus, one of its twists can be sign-posted a mile off, thanks to an off-the-cuff line of dialogue that anyone familiar with the genre would slap themselves if missed.

However, all of that matters little when put in the context of spectacle, masterfully orchestrated by Christopher McQuarrie, as he manipulates the pieces of the overly-familiar plot into a knotty Rubik's cube of action.

This time around, Cruise's Ethan Hunt is facing the ramifications of a decision to save one of his team members and losing three pieces of plutonium to a terrorist organisation, The Apostles. With the group looking to purge the world, Hunt faces a race against time, against his past and also against a conspiracy to save the day.

It may be a none-too-original plot (terrorists want to blow up the world), but what engenders Mission: Impossible - Fallout with such blockbuster chutzpah is a sense of scale, a sense of never letting the foot off the action, and some hints into the personal world of Cruise's hitherto blank slate Hunt.

For the most part, the women in this get level-pegging, a chance to hold their own with Ferguson stepping up majorly and Kirby playing the femme fatale role in a manner reminiscent of past film noir. In truth, Cavill flounders a little preferring in parts to chew the scenery as the agent sent to keep tabs on Hunt's team, and is maybe the weaker link in the chain. Coupled with a couple of narrative issues, some wooden dialogue barked in exposition fashion, it's not quite the slam dunk at times.

However, it's the set pieces that sparkle with bravura throughout - from a bathroom fight sequence executed with bone-crunching brevity and bravura to the Queenstown-set finale in the skies, McQuarrie's made sure that the tension is there when it needs to be, and the thrilling delivers when it needs to.

In truth, as ever, this is still the Tom Cruise show, and while the hints of the personal make the plot a little more engaging (any top notch spy film needs to juggle the mix of the two, leading to the inevitable final act clash), some of the characters on the peripherary don't quite get their time to shine - a shame for both Pegg and Rhames' IMF agents who get breadcrumbs of time in the limelight.

While the IMF team feels unstoppable in their sixth iteration, and perhaps going even more personal may work for any further outings with a death of one their own, lest they become ever more closer to the superheroes of the spy world, Mission: Impossible - Fallout's utter commitment to scene-dazzling shenanigans and spectacle can't be denied.

Easily the best action film of the year, Mission: Impossible - Fallout offers a thrilling and occasionally emotionally grounded alternative to other blockbusters' flights of fancy.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to head to the cinema to see this. In truth, it's potentially one of the easiest decisions you're likely to make - and as long as future installments look to fix some of the narrative niggles presented here, the Mission: Impossible series will likely be in rude health for years to come.

Little Woods: NZIFF Review

Little Woods: NZIFF Review

The one last job before I retire trope is as old as the hills themselves, but what director Nia DaCosta and actress Tessa Thompson bring to the hoary cliche is a degree of humanity and empathy in Little Woods.

Thompson is Ollie, a one time opioid dealer to the North Dakota fracking workers. Caught after a border run went wrong and under probation with just 10 days to go, Ollie finds herself facing desperate measures and multiple financial hardships.

But when her struggling adopted sister and solo mother Deb (Lily James) finds she's about to give birth again and needs a place to live, the clock's ticking to get together $3,000 cash to ensure their house isn't foreclosed on.

So, despite wanting a clean break, Ollie is forced back into the one thing she knows well, but doesn't want to do.

As mentioned, the plot isn't exactly original, but what DaCosta and Thompson - and to a large degree, James - bring to the table is a female perspective on middle America, the struggles of those under pressure, and the face of the Opioid crisis.

This is no Breaking Bad though, with Thompson providing subtle contrasts in her Ollie as she debates the morals of the right thing to do. It's very much a story of the times, and told in an unfussy manner, with tension being ratcheted up in a smaller, more intimate setting on the screen.

There's a great deal of empathy radiating from these characters, and while some of the dialogue doesn't feel natural, there's no denying Thompson's natural charm and appeal that she imbues Ollie with.

Refusing to give in, Ollie finds every path possible to explore, and the desperate scrabble to stay afloat has you in her camp from the get go.

The film's ambiguous end is a smart touch too - unsure of who gets a happy end, it's very much a crime tale told under a different lens - and all the better for it. Little Woods may hit a few of the cliche branches as it unspools, but with two extremely solid and plausible leads, it remains watchable from beginning to end.

And Breathe Normally: NZIFF Review

And Breathe Normally: NZIFF Review

In lieu of a Dardenne Brothers New Zealand International Film Festival flick, this year's slice of social realism comes in the shape of Iceland's And Breathe Normally.

In the desolate wastelands of Iceland, single mother Lara is struggling - opening in a supermarket, we see her worrying about groceries, yet not accepting of a stranger's offer of financial help. Given a lifeline in the shape of a border security job, Lara's first week sees her excel when she spots a dodgy passport from someone in the queue.

That passport is owned by Adja, who's quickly shipped off to a refugee centre, prone to having people removed in the middle of the night for minimum fuss.

However, Nina's actions sees the pair reunited in the most unexpected of ways, as she plunges further into hardship.

And Breathe Normally's debut by director Ísold Uggadóttir clearly has Ken Loach style aspirations, but as Nina spirals down into a world of just getting by and then starting to flounder, it has an all-too familiar global feel, one of reality for many.

Details are teased out of Lara's issues, and while Adja's problems may be more clear cut in terms of their familiarity, it doesn't make the journey any the less predictable, and those involved wisely keep the film from lapsing into melodrama or over-egging some of the more obvious elements.

And Breathe Normally's winning points come in the forms of what it says with subtlety - it adds fuel to the fire that social welfare and help still comes with a stigma, in that Lara refuses to accept the kindness of strangers, even when it's clearly the best thing to do - and only when misdeeds and mistakes point her in that direction.

With degrees of desperation setting in in this three-hander (four, if you count the occasional appearances by Musi, a cat rescued by Lara for her son), the performances are all evenly executed and subtly interesting enough to get under your skin.

It also adds much debate - mostly familiar, it has to be said - to the refugee discussion in Adja's treatment and while some of the latter third of the film strains a degree of plausibility (most certainly, its ending), And Breathe Normally's deeply rooted and grounded execution evokes plenty of empathy from the audience.

Interview with Debra Granik, director of Leave No Trace

Interview with Debra Granik, director of Leave No Trace

Director Debra Granik received accolades when she launched Jennifer Lawrence into the collective consciousness with Winter's Bone.
She's now back with new film Leave No Trace, a tale of a father-daughter who live in the woods and whose co-existence is shattered when they're discovered. 
Debra was in New Zealand for the premiere of Leave No Trace, and was generous enough to spend some time discussing the film, the actors, and her desire to pursue social realism in cinema - and the problems that causes with a system that doesn't always know how to promote it.

Eight years between feature films is a long time, how does it feel to be "back" with the accolades levelled at Leave No Trace?
Debra - I did a documentary in between so I consider it more like 4 out; I was deep in trenches with filming, but I'm really pleased that people respond to Leave No Trace. It's a quiet film, but it's exciting to see that there's still some space for a quiet film and audiences respond to that, because it makes me really happy as that's the natural style that I gravitate to; I'm relieved and happy.

In the blockbuster climate we live in, and the arthouse scene being under more threat than before, is it hard to get films like this made? The landscape is starved of original content.
Right, because I labour outside of the industry, subject matters I'm interested in, and ways I like to make my film don't dovetail well with the industry model. I'm interested in working with new emerging actors and I'm interested in films out of the social realism genre, everyday life, they don't have high stakes in the traditional manner. They're high stakes to me, it's values you aspire to, it's whether you live undetected and not be detected, whether you go against the grain, whether you can pay the rent - those are high stakes to me. Those are the ingredients that make it hard for me; financiers are frequently looking for things that fit a certain rubrik or a certain set of ingredients they can count on. A certain sort of popular jolt; they may have a threat of violence, or have really narrow definition of what hetero-normative sexiness would be, they frequently rely on a very known entity, like an auction block, so they can say that Actor A is worth this much in New Zealand, Australia or Asia, Actor B can bring in this much; there's a price tag around actors' necks and how much they're worth. I was trying to get out of that human evaluation money thing; just so we can see stories like in the old realist tradition, you're picking people to represent story because you think they have some grist, some life experience, some association with it.

Talking of actors, with the leads Ben Foster, who delivers a very internalised performance and Thomasin Mckenzie, how did you nurture the two actors as a pair to form the bond we see on screen?
Yeah, they had some really good rehearsals together, and they developed their traction in their collaboration. They were both given some tools in their training, a skills trainer taught them a variety of things they could do on screen and they practised them. They made a meal together, they did a lot of things in the woods together so that they could learn to interact with things together, build a fire, cook a meal, build the feathersticks, real tasks, really make their home feel like a place they had together. Traipse in the woods, that kind of thing, do these activities that enabled them to be a pair on screen.

I'm torn on the ending because Ben's character goes into the woods, never to be seen again and you have no idea when or whether he and his daughter will reconnect - how do you see the bittersweet ending?
Without being evasive or trying to be aloof about this, I love that I've enjoyed the conversation with audiences and me being part of it after the end. Almost half of the audiences I've seen it with think that when she puts the bag on the tree, it means that somehow he's nearby - when people recognise that bag from earlier in the film when it was left for the man in the woods.
For us, it was a simply a moment of eerie filmmaking because when Ben disappeared, we didn't use any trick photography there, he simply disappeared. He became no longer visible to our lens when we were filming that sequence; when he went off the road and walked into the scrub, we could not see him anymore - and that was only on one take; we used that take. It felt like a very serendipitous poetic thing to put in there. A very bittersweet ending, but people interpret it either way - people think they shall meet again, you know? Others think he couldn't find his way on this particular path he was on; he was seeking something he couldn't find and he knew to let her be; there is no doubt about it being bittersweet because any of those interpretations are bittersweet; it's about the divergent paths that people take when they realise that they aren't naturally wired the same and don't necessarily require the same things.

What was it you saw in Thomasin for the lead role?
I can never know that chemistry thing, I can't predict or know that but I did know that she was providing so much rich conversation when we would talk by Skype and in the improvs we did, she did some riffs on the script, and she showed initiative. And that was it; she was giving back; what she was sending back to me was incredible and I said "Wow, this is the stellar collaborator". So I didn't know; she took it on herself to be really present and provide in the way that Ben could really respond to.

You hadn't heard of the story before, what was it that attracted you to it?
The novel was a really interesting read, the premise was really interesting as well; from the real article on. You know the fact that in Portland, a father and daughter had been found and had lived undetected successfully - that's just an interesting premise; in a municipal park, with a mid-size city nearby. I was already drawn in by just the premise. From there, I immediately said "What happens to people like that once they're discovered, can they ever return to what things they were seeking, ways of life, will they be flipped, up-ended and find it really hard to re-calibrate, would they find they can still live against the grain?"

It's interesting that these characters are not leading problematic lives in the woods; they're not harming anybody, and they are only perceived as doing so by society looking at them...
Yes, that's a very rich point; I agree with you. That's what makes the film so philosophical is because part of their story ignites or initiates a feeling of contemplation, right? Because we know anyone who wants to live on public land, they can't because the public land would fill up and people would despoil it, people wouldn't live as scrupulously or as carefully; so because there's something about their methodology that's so specific and required a discipline. It was not a willy-nilly lifestyle, but then as a social worker points out in the film, there's just this blanket law that applies to everyone supposedly. To me, it became very relentless questioning in my mind as I was writing the screenplay, it just dawned on me something which is like such a basic concept - you only get to choose your lifestyle if you've got property. You have to own something in any contemporary society in order to choose your lifestyle. Should you have a parcel of land, you can go there and put your solar receptors there, build your fire and live any way you want - that's your piece of land you supposedly own. But without that you're not entitled to leave anywhere.

Globally we're coming to a point in life where living like that should not be seen as a problem; everyone's got problems of property and land ownership - and we have a rich way of using resources which we're not exploring.
That's fascinating - I would say that was one thing that was both confusing and heartbreaking, even investigating the tiny house, the big movement in the Pacific North West. Big swathes of Americans wanting to downsize; the money they are capable of earning, the way the economy distributes them, or permits distribution - they've deemed what they can afford to live in, out of elements, with hygiene is a tiny house. Not much bigger than this interview enclosure, and the headline is 'Many people seek tiny houses, nowhere to put them'. Where are you entitled to pull up your tiny house? Living in a tiny house in a very big asphalt car park would be no-one's idea of an ongoing picnic you know? We're faced with that question that's knocking on the door of every organised society right now, which is Where are we entitled to be? All of us, every single human beings has the same set of basic needs - Food, clothing, shelter and companionship. The question is 10,000 years why is it phenomenally, that we cannot solve or facilitate how people get their basic needs. There are people saying I don't need more than my basic needs - I'm willing to do without material possessions.

But in a weird way as well, those people aren't willing to share their possessions with other people. They're willing to downsize for themselves rather than to look to open up their land at the back of their house to let a community in, we are still quite selfish in many ways.
I don't want to overstate it, but I'd like to think those questions come up from Leave No Trace, but I can't guarantee that for any body, but I like that you're asking that; I love being in any of films, be it in my own or my colleagues or in a rich festival such as the New Zealand International Film Festival and to be asked to think, be invited to think - if any thoughts like that circulate while watching this, I'd be pleased. Especially in a film like this, when it's not a tentpole film, a bombardment of superpowers and ultra-violence.

Do you feel we're losing films like this these days in the superhero cinema world?
My goodness, of course I feel disappointed if there's no room for the smaller quieter films. If the arthouse system can kind of continue and stay robust enough that people who seek other films have a place to go. To me, it's like flexitarian - I would never want that everything in the world has to be meat and potatoes, but I love a restaurant that can offer both. I love a restaurant that can offer a whole load of vegetarian options as well as meat one; same things with blockbusters - big pieces of big raw meat, but then can also be peaceful co-existence. Co-existence, that would be my idea of a good time.

Where do you want to go next after Leave No Trace?
That's a valid question - it's always on my mind! I'm trying to do an adaptation of a non-fiction book actually, but trying to make it into fiction. Filming it as a narrative fiction, and it's a book about surviving in the post-financial crisis economy as it collapses around workers who have been trying to eek out a living in the service industry and economy and seeing that contract quite a bit - the brick and mortars disappearing quite a bit. It's hard for people trying to earn a living to keep up with an ever-pyramiding capitalism, peaking so narrowly at the top, and losing its ability to provide work opportunities for those not at the top. This obscene flaunting of privilege of richness that became so much more acceptable in this era, it's just blustery me-ism of what this era represents. It's just deafening. I would love to try and show examples of good ole days when people wanted to be nice to each other and be in this together. I would love to think that some of us are just cultivating some stories that show this is possible.

Leave No Trace is playing at The New Zealand International Film Festival.

Apostasy: NZIFF Review

Apostasy: NZIFF Review

With its title talking of abandonment and the central setting being about a family of three women in the thrall of Jevohah's Witnesses, it's easy to see where this film is heading.

But what's different about Daniel Kokotajlo's drama is just quietly it unfolds - no remedial soundtrack outside of actuality, this Brit-set story of Alex (Molly Wright), a Jevohah who was given a blood transfusion when she was young and whose anaemia throughout her life has been problematic.

Turning 18, Alex's world changes when she finds her beliefs challenged by her older sister's romance with a college boy uninterested in their religion and by a mother (Happy Valley's Siobhan Finneran) whose unswerving devotion is at the cost of everything.

Without giving too much away, Apostasy's close up framing of Alex, its shots of prayers and of doubts given voice do much to take you into the largely unknown world of the Jevohah's Witnesses, and the challenges the younger elements probably face daily.

Questioning religious doctrine, and shining a light on an elusive community, it would be easy to cast judgement, but what Kokotajlo's film does, aside from pulling back the curtain on his own experiences within the church, is to provide much insight into the complexities of some religions, beliefs and doctrines that seem like madness to those on the outside.

Wisely, Kokotajlo manages to hold off from judgement, leaving the audience to make those leaps while providing reasons why things are done the way they are within - it's a sensitive approach to what could be a tricky subject, and it's carefully and deliberately executed.

Crossing the boundaries of a coming-of-age story where the children register their doubts and fight back against their parents with a sensitive tale of keeping faith when everything around you changes, Apostasy is made up of two mightily impressive performances. Firstly, Molly Wright's inwardly unsure Alex, whose close ups reveal the problems of her doubts on the doctrine; and secondly Siobahn Finneran's Ivanna, the mother whose life has been dictated to by her beliefs - there's tragedy in each of these performances, delivered with calculated precision by both actresses.

Ultimately, Apostasy, while trying not to do so, does pass judgement, but it's only through the projections of the audience - one final take-your-breath-away moment aside, the drama is internalised and viewed from external perceptions. It's a clever and fascinating way to approach a largely unknown community and its revelations and insights give light to the human struggles of faith.

The Kindergarten Teacher: NZIFF Review

The Kindergarten Teacher: NZIFF Review

Based on the film Haganenet by Nadav Lapid, Maggie Gyllenhaal stars as Lisa Spinelli, an adrift kindergarten teacher in this rather odd piece that veers creepily into territory that's unsettling.

Unhappy with her kids refusing to eat dinner as family, with one who would rather use Instagram to further her once burgeoning photo career and flailing in her poetry class, Spinelli finds her life changed one day thanks to five-year-old Joe (Parker Sevak).

Joe appears to spontaneously erupt into poetry, and Spinelli, sensing there's more here, decides to nurture him after taking one of his poems, reciting it in class and receiving accolades.

But she spirals further into pursuing his talent, what emerges is dangerously close to obsession.

The Kindergarten Teacher is an odd watch at times, with Spinelli's behaviour seeming borderline unsettling in its naivete and its execution.

And while there are definitely questions over Spinelli's actions, there are no questions over Gyllenhaal's performance as she descends. Committed, human and with subtle changes as the film goes on, Gyllenhaal imbues her character with the signs of some kind of breakdown and innate sadness.

It's hard to keep a film like this ambiguous without the audience becoming ambivalent, and while some moments border very closely to steering the film in a direction where you don't want it to go, Gyllenhaal and to a lesser extent, Sevak, manage to keep it just on the right side of uncertain.

"This world is going to erase you" is just heartbreaking to hear and when the frustration behind this is expanded further, Gyllenhaal gives Spinelli soul and a reason for her growing insanity - sadly, it's all too reflected in the modern world and in Spinelli's children.

In a weird way, The Kindergarten Teacher does feel like a psychological horror wrapped up in a drama, as the edges and lines become blurred - but as a subtle portrait of a breakdown and potentially, abuse, it perhaps works better.