Monsieur Lazhar ★★½

A Film That Misses The Mark On The Teacher/Student Relationship

Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando

Teaching is perhaps the most underrated profession in the world. The greatest teachers inspire us to do even more than our very best and they leave a lasting impression on us; They make a difference in our lives. This idea is at the center of Monsieur Lazhar, a film that tries, unsuccessfully, to show what it means to be a teacher in our present time.

The film opens in Montreal with a troubled boy, Simon (Émilien Néron), seeing his teacher Martine (Héléna Laliberté) hanging lifelessly from the ceiling of her classroom. The rest of the film shows how the students deal with their teacher's death. In addition to Simon, Alice (Sophie Nélisse) managed to get a glimpse of Martine as well and becomes the central voice for what all of the students are feeling. Desperate for a replacement teacher, the school principle, Madame Vaillancourt (Danielle Proulx) hires Bachir Lazhar (Mohamed Saïd Fellag), an Algerian immigrant desperate for a teaching position. He, of course, is not Martine and the students have a tough time getting used to his teaching methods. He rearranges their desks from a semicircle to straight rows, makes them do dictations on stories they find boring, and slaps a student in the back of the head for throwing something at another student. Lazhar quickly learns from Madame Vaillancourt that the relationship between teacher and student forbids physical contact of any kind, including a hug or encouraging tap on the back, and especially hitting a student for misbehaving.

The film is trying to show how hard it is to be a good teacher with the rules and restrictions that we currently have, but it's almost afraid to really delve into those issues and bring them to the surface. For instance, Lazhar tries unsuccessfully throughout the film to get Madame Vaillancourt to let the students talk about death openly in the school. While she wants them to discuss their feelings with the school's designated child psychiatrist (Nicole-Sylvie Lagarde), she does not wish for Martine's suicide to be open and continued conversation within the school. In very much the same manner, the film is almost afraid to let issues like the subject of death or hugging a student be open for discussion. They're mentioned, but not dealt with, which takes away from the film's impact.

In addition, I never fully believed that Lazhar was making that big of an impact in his students' lives. He tries to inspire them to do more, but because their former teacher's suicide is still fresh in their minds, he never quite reaches them. Alice is the only student of his that seems to be taken with him and he later admits that she is in fact his favorite. He learns through his students how he can be a better teacher, but we don't get that scene that I feel the film needed. Yes, by this point it may seem cliché, but if ever a film needed the famous teacher and students finally understanding each other and learning to work together scene, it's Monsieur Lazhar.

To be clear, I'm not saying this is a bad film. It's a good movie that could have been great if the filmmakers had just explored the issues with teachers and students a little better. I hoped this film would bring something new to the teacher and student films like Dead Poets Society, which isn't to say that it had to be that film. It felt like an okay addition to this genre of films instead of something fresh and original.

Footnote ★★★½

A Unique Look At A Father/Son Rivalry

Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando

Relationships between father and son are complicated to say the least. The film Footnote offers a darkly comical take on that relationship by setting the story in the world of academia, specifically in the Talmudic Research Department of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. The father, Eliezer Shkolnik (Shlomo Bar Aba) is a philologist who studies different versions of the Jerusalem Talmud adhering to a strict view of their meaning. Eliezer is an outcast because of his old-school beliefs. Years back, another Professor, Yehuda Grossman (Micah Lewensohn), found similar results as Eliezer in his research but published them ahead of him, leaving Eliezer’s thirty years of work now pointless. It should be noted that Eliezer’s only claim to fame is a footnote in one of his former mentor’s books that everyone except Eliezer has long since forgotten. Meanwhile, Eliezer’s son Uriel (Lior Ashkenazi) is perhaps the most popular professor at the University, whose work does not include such a strict interpretation of Talmudic texts. Eliezer finds everything that Uriel believes in to be simple speculation and thus not worthy of his respect.

For years Eliezer has hoped to win the Israel Prize in recognition of his work and each year he has become more saddened and bitter because he never wins. Elsewhere, Uriel has made the point that as long as his father is alive and hoping to win the Israel Prize, he does not want to be recommended for the honor. When a mix up of names occurs, Eliezer is mistakenly told that he will be receiving the award he has so long hoped for, even though unbeknownst to him the award was intended to be given to Uriel.

What I love about this film is how it takes this idea of the father son strained relationship and raises the stakes to the highest level by placing true animosity on the role of the father to the son. Eliezer is a bitter old man who never got over being cheated out of his life’s work. Thirty years of work suddenly being taken away is something I think we can all sympathize with. Uriel on the other hand at first comes across as egotistical, then slowly throughout the film reveals himself to be an honorable man, still seeking his father’s respect and admiration.

There’s one scene in particular that lasts about ten minutes that I’m just in awe of. It’s got everything one could want in a movie: comedy, drama and yes, some suspense. It’s the scene where Uriel is called into the crammed office of the Israeli Prize committee to be informed of their error. In it, Uriel begs them to just give his father the award because, as Uriel states, he deserves it. One of the members on the committee is Professor Grossman, who has no intention of ever awarding Eliezer the Israel Prize. It’s a powerful scene; one that I think no matter who you are, you could sympathize with. For me, it’s the son pleading for his father in the most compassionate way that hits me hard. If it sounds like Uriel is trying to save his father’s life, well, he is. He tells the committee that if his father finds out about the error, it will likely kill him. Eliezer is a man so desperate for respect that to finally think he’s achieved it only to have it taken away would most likely drive him to suicide. Uriel, for all intents and purposes, puts his life on the line to help his father.

The whole film basically shows us the perspectives of each character; Uriel doing his best to get his father the award he deserves, and Eliezer running his mouth about his son’s “superficial” work, enraging Uriel to no end. The film is quite intense in that we never know what either character might do or say to the other. We see Uriel reaching his breaking point the more his father ridicules his profession, yet we see Eliezer’s determination to get the respect he feels his son and others have stolen from him and we’re sympathetic to both stories. It’s almost as if we either don’t know who to root for, or we’re rooting for both characters equally.

Keep in mind that this is all set within the world of academic research; a field that largely in my opinion goes under-appreciated in our country. Joseph Cedar, the director of this film does a brilliant job raising the stakes as it were and showing us how complex not only the research field is, but also how difficult the relationships between fathers and sons can be. I’m used to seeing films where the son just wants to make his father proud. Yes, there’s a large amount of that in this film and it all works. But for me, what sets this film apart from any other is the portrayal of the father whose desperate to achieve what his son has; just a little respect.

Footnote is currently playing at The Maple Theatre in Bloomfield Hills. 

Jiro Dreams Of Sushi ★★★★

This May Just Be The Best Film of 2012

Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando

Jiro Ono is an 85-year-old world-renowned sushi chef who, despite his age and experience with preparing sushi, is still looking to perfect his craft. Reservations for his restaurant, Sukiyabashi Jiro, have to be made a month, sometimes a year in advance. As we’re told in the film by a Japanese food critic, the meal might be very quick but well worth the wait to be able to sit in Jiro’s restaurant. This documentary by David Gelb chronicles the day-in and day-out life of Jiro, illustrating what kind of man he is and how he got to be the sushi chef he’s become. The answer is simple really, as Jiro tells us: “You have to love what you do.”

That principle is a large part of why this film is so good. For anyone out there who has ever had a dream about doing what they love, it shows us what can become of someone truly devoted to their love in life. Those of us who say that we do what we love might walk out of the film feeling like they’ve forgotten that passion that made them want to enter into their respective careers in the first place. At one point Jiro asks why anyone who “does what they love” have any complaints about the job? If they love it, there should be no complaints, plain and simple.

The film really does a great job of showing his passion for cooking sushi. There are countless slow motion shots of different stages of preparation; The sounds of the water hitting the rice that they use for the sushi and gorgeous cinematography by Gelb that puts us right in the kitchen to make us feel like we’re apart of something special. Every image is so crisp and beautiful that any time there are any shots of food, you wish you could partake in the experience.

The other story at the film’s center is the relationship that Jiro has with his two sons, Yamamoto and Takashi. Takashi (his younger son) has opened his own restaurant, which is basically a more relaxed mirror image of Jiro’s. (We’re shown in an early scene that Jiro is left-handed and therefore the design of his restaurant is meant for a left-handed chef. Takashi is right handed and so the opposite is true.) We’re told that Jiro often intimidates people, as he usually stares intently at each of his customers, studying their reactions to his food. Takashi on the other hand is more conversational and supposedly cooks sushi that is almost, if not equally as good as his father’s.

Yamamoto (the older son who’s now 51) is the heir to Jiro’s restaurant, but is still struggling to live up to the man his father is. A former employee of Jiro’s explains that in order for Yamamoto to be successful he has to make sushi that is far better than Jiro’s, not equal to. At 85, Jiro shows no signs of quitting despite a heart attack ten years earlier and the long hours he still puts in to his business, which leaves Yamamoto with some time to surpass his father.

For me, the aspects of this family and this restaurant are fascinating. The son’s quest for the father’s approval is something that I will always connect with, and the fact that Yamamoto still has not surpassed his father at his age is heartbreaking at times. In addition, the calculation and the process that goes into perfecting a product like Jiro has is so inspiring. Jiro doesn’t beat himself up for “not being perfect yet”, instead he works; each day seeing how he can improve upon the last. Some of his techniques took years to achieve, such as how long to massage an octopus before boiling it. We’re told he originally started at 20-30 minutes but now does it for closer to 40, which makes its texture much better than most are probably used to.

This is a film that shows the results of someone who is devoted to his craft and loving every minute of it. My eyes were glued to the screen for every minute that an image was projected. I kept thinking to myself that whatever I do in life, I’m nothing if I don’t relish every minute of it. I walked out of the theatre feeling inspired - something that I don’t feel often enough in movies anymore. It reminded me of why I love seeing films from all around the world, not just American films. I should mention that I’m a vegetarian and have, for my entire life, despised seafood. This is the first and only film that really made me wish I could try some sushi; that I was sitting right in front of Jiro, eating the meal he’s placed in front of me, while he stares patiently at me awaiting my response.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi is currently playing at The Maple Theatre in Bloomfield Hills and will open at The Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor this Sunday, April 22.

The Kid With A Bike ★★★

Skillfully Avoids Sliding Into Melodrama In A Dark Tale Of A Troubled Young Boy

Written by Matt Giles
Edited by Erin Accomando

I went into The Kid With A Bike not knowing what to expect. When I walked out of the theatre I found myself so moved by the performance of Thomas Deret as Cyril, the kid in question. Deret is in nearly every scene of the film, which for a boy his age is not easy. The basic premise of the film is as follows: Cyril is abandoned by his father (Jérémie Renier) and left at a foster home. He lives in denial of the fact that his father actually left him without a care in the world and makes continued attempts to locate him. After he finds out that his father has left his apartment and sold Cyril’s bike to make money he meets a hairdresser, Samantha (played by Cécile de France), who after a plea from Cyril, agrees to take care of him on weekends. The first act of the film involves Cyril and Samantha first getting Cyril’s bike back, and then finding out where his father is. Once the father located, he finally tells Cyril that he wants nothing to do with him.

           

At various times throughout this film I found it difficult to watch. Not because it was poorly executed or because I was seeing something that I had to avert my eyes from, but simply because Deret is so good in the role of Cyril that seeing his denial about his father and the inner turmoil he experiences at such a young age is just devastating. Cyril quite simply just wants to be loved. Samantha provides this love and care, but it seems that Cyril is more desperate for the approval of a father figure. As a result, Cyril later forms a friendship with a local gang leader who persuades Cyril to rob and assault a newsstand owner and, unexpectedly, the newsstand owner’s son. You see the desperation for approval from Cyril in a variety of ways, not the least of which is when Cyril tells the gang leader he’ll do the job for free because he just wants to please him.

Most films that I have seen like this one are quite melodramatic (Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead springs to mind, a film that many liked but I did not). The Kid With A Bike manages to steer clear of that entirely. This film is directed by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne and is the first film of theirs that I have seen. From what I’ve read their films tend to focus on similar subject matter, which for a film with such an emotional punch as this one, takes an incredible amount of skill and precision to execute successfully. For my money, the Dardeenes pull it off in spades. When watching the film you cannot help but feel sorry for Cyril and angry with him at the same time for acting the way he does. But again, you understand him. You see his motivations and you’re compelled to follow him and simply hope that he’ll come out of this whole ordeal all right. Samantha is the character symbolic of hope in the film; She sees everything that’s happening to Cyril and does everything she possibly can to save him.

My only complaint about the film quite honestly is the score. The same theme shows up at certain moments in the film and it just doesn’t quite fit for me. I feel as though it’s too sentimental; too on the nose. It’s telling me exactly how I should feel at this particular moment (and many others) in the film and I don’t need it. It almost feels as if the Dardeenes were not sure that certain scenes would land the way they intended with audiences, so they put this music in that just hits you over the head. If this is the case, they should have felt more comfortable with the subject matter and let it speak for itself. A minor complaint, yes, in an otherwise difficult but nevertheless uplifting story about hope, loss and redemption.

The Kid With A Bike is currently playing at The Main Art Theatre in Royal Oak. 

Crazy Horse ★★★★

A Brilliant Behind The Scenes Look At One Of France’s Most Erotic Cabarets

Written by Matt Giles

Edited by Erin Accomando

Frederick Wiseman is a documentary filmmaker whose career has spanned more than forty years. Knowing that makes me feel even worse about the fact that this is the first film of his that I have ever seen. Crazy Horse is the name of the Parisian cabaret, known for its eroticism and skillfully crafted performances. In 2009, Wiseman brought his camera in to film the making of the new show the cabaret was putting on entitled Désirs. What we get is the fly-on-the-wall style of documentary filmmaking that Wiseman is known for, wherein we witness the stress, hard work and sacrifice that these people put into creating a show.

The film begins with a variety of musical numbers to introduce us to the world we’ll be spending the next two and a half hours living in. It’s dark; it’s atmospheric; it’s artistic and yes, quite erotic. Later, we see the director Ali Mahdavi talking about how they need to close Crazy Horse if they really want to be able to pull off Désirs. We see everyone from the dancers themselves, to the choreographers, makeup artists, costume designers and stage managers. What’s fascinating is that through all of the stress and apparent turmoil that exists behind putting on a show like this, no one ever shouts at one another. The overall feeling that I got when watching this film is that each show is such success largely because of the respect that everyone seemingly has for one another. They do fight, again, never yelling, they disagree on each other’s vision of the show but somehow they all work well together.

As mentioned, Wiseman’s unique style of documentary filmmaking is very removed, as opposed to most documentaries where the camera essentially forces its way in. Here, it’s literally as we’re the invisible man, unnoticed day in and day out. There are never any interviews conducted except for the ones conducted by other people promoting Désirs, which Wiseman gets on film because he happened to be there at that time. It’s a fascinating take on filmmaking because so much is left up to us as an audience to interpret. We observe everyone, but we never get to hear, for example, how any of the dancers feel personally about what they do. We hear whispers from the director that certain numbers like Venus are being cut because the women are not comfortable touching one another, but again, these are only hints.

The one scene that really lets us see the comical side of these women is when they’re sitting in the back watching bloopers of Russian ballet dancers, laughing hysterically at each of the mistakes they make. This is paralleled with another scene where the director talks about how the women are still making at least one mistake during each musical number, which is unacceptable. When watching this film one cannot help but appreciate the kind of work that goes into a show like this, or for that matter what it takes to do any show that’s worth talking about.

I should also mention that this film is absolutely gorgeous to look at. This cinematography is spectacular, largely due to the artistic direction and lighting of Désirs itself. It’s amazing that a show like this even exists and it’s refreshing to see how another culture views the subject of eroticism. This is a film and a world unlike any other you’ve ever seen. It’s well worth your time and money to seek this film out and invite yourself into the world of The Crazy Horse Cabaret.  

This Is Not A Film ★★★½

Heartbreaking And Simultaneously Uplifting

Written by Matt Giles

Edited by Erin Accomando

I’m the first to admit (and shamefully so) that my experience with Iranian cinema is next to none. Earlier this year I saw the brilliant, yet puzzling Certified Copy by Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami. And now This Is Not A Film, about Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi. Panahi is one of the most prolific filmmakers to come out of Iran and has made an impact around the world as one of the most important filmmakers of our time. In 2009 he was arrested for opposing Iran’s regime and sentenced to six years in prison along with a twenty-year ban from filmmaking. In 2010, while still under house arrest, This Is Not A Film was made showing one day in the life of Panahi’s current predicament. This film was so secretive, so risky that it had to be smuggled out of the country on a flash drive hidden inside of a cake for a last minute submission to last year’s Cannes Film Festival.

Basically what anyone like myself who has very limited knowledge of Iranian cinema should know before seeing this film is to know is that it is a very painstaking process to get a film made in Iran. While we think that the ratings system in the U.S. is a headache, there is a strict approval process from script to film in Iran, which is one of the many reasons that Panahi has the reputation he does. He’s made films that have criticized the treatment of women in Iran as well as taking what some have called an Iranian form of neorealism oftentimes using non-professional actors in the main roles of his films. Panahi is the true definition of an artist. He’s someone who longs for the opportunity to express himself and having his voice silenced as it has been is devastating to not only him but us as an audience.

The film starts off slow as we see Panahi making himself breakfast and making a phone call his lawyer to discuss whether or not she thinks his sentence will be reduced and if the ban will be lifted. She’s hopeful, but as we now know, neither the sentence nor the ban was reduced or lifted, sadly. Later, he makes a call to a friend of his who we later learn is another Iranian filmmaker, Mojtaba Mirtahmasb. Panahi has invited him over to shoot a reenactment of Panahi’s latest film that was never made about a woman who is locked up by her father to prevent her from enrolling at an art school she’s been accepted to, the idea being that he is banned from directing and writing, but there was never anything said about him acting his story out.

Panahi uses white tape to section off his living room to illustrate the constrictions of the young woman’s room. He begins to discuss the opening shots and sets the overall mood of the film. He shows us pictures and video on his iPhone of the two actresses he was debating between for the lead role as well as the location he wanted to use for the indoor setting. Midway through this reenactment however, Panahi’s mood changes quite suddenly and we witness the heartbreak and frustration on his face. He asks himself why he’s even bothering, as movies are meant to be seen and shared by the world, not read out loud in a living room.

This one scene in particular is the defining reason, at least for me, as to why this film works so well. I’ve often been so removed from understanding what motivates artists in any field. Not that I have anything against different forms of art, I’m just not someone who understands process when it comes to creating something. I don’t know what it means to connect with a character from an acting standpoint, nor do I know what it means to express myself through an abstract drawing or painting. I respect the work from an outsider’s perspective and yet, I fully sympathize with Panahi’s situation especially after witnessing this one scene on film. I see how dreadful and truly terrifying it is for an artist like Panahi to essentially be handcuffed from doing what he loves.

Panahi spends the rest of the film doing a variety of things, which includes viewing DVDs of his films and commenting on specific scenes that exemplified to him what filmmaking truly is: collaboration, inspiration and above all, passion. There’s improvisation, there’s magic, there’s all sorts of different things that can happen when making a film and Panahi relishes in every minute of it. It also includes more phone calls and finally a conversation with his apartment building’s maintenance man, where Panahi accompanies him down each floor of his round until the film abruptly ends as they walk outside.

I walked out of this film feeling helpless for this man but also strangely hopeful because a filmmaker like Panahi exists in the first place. He is a man who stands up for what he believes in, has been silenced as a result of his work, and conveys the notion that despite the odds, he isn’t done yet. It’s the passion that exists in all of us; that idea that Andy Dufresne talked about in The Shawshank Redemption; they can lock us up and throw away the key, but they can’t get the hope that we hold inside.

This Is Not A Film is one of those most honest depictions of what it means to love one’s work that I have seen in a long time. It reminds us that film will always remain a staple of any culture and that no matter whose voice is silenced, the truth will always come out.