Two 80s-Set Films by Pablo Trapero: El Bonaerense (2002) and The Clan (2015)

Both of these reviews, written back in 2016, are fairly short, but they deal with a filmmaker who’s considered one of the major forces in contemporary Argentinian cinema, crafting small dramas as easily as big family stories. The only other film of his I’ve seen was 2006’s Born and Bred, but his films have all been worth watching.


There’s a wash of grainy texture to El Bonaerense, a film set in the 1980s as far as I can tell (unless they really are as backwards as their morals), as a small town locksmith finds himself framed for a robbery. He’s swiftly swept up into the metropolitan police force (El Bonaerense, for Buenos Aires) by an uncle who’s owed a favour. That’s generally how the story proceeds, with even the ‘nice’ guys prone to taking bribes and administering a corrupt sense of justice. No one but the director comes out of this situation well.

Trapero remains a fine stylist for his more recent film The Clan, which is a true crime story also set in the heady Argentinean 1980s, and there are solid performances throughout. I gather that all crime films after Scorsese have to juxtapose their stories with cranked-up pop music, but if you’re going to do that, this film does it pretty well in following one Argentine family, who are up to all kinds of no good. Trapero seems interested in interrogating his country’s past via stories of low-lifers, and he keeps the films moving along a swift clip, with no little style to the way he frames and edits his work.

El Bonaerense film posterEl Bonaerense (2002) [Argentina/Chile/France/Netherlands]
Director Pablo Trapero; Writers Nicolás Gueilburt, Ricardo Ragendorfer, Dodi Shoeuer, Trapero and Daniel Valenzuela; Cinematographer Guillermo Nieto; Starring Jorge Román, Victor Hugo Carrizo; Length 105 minutes.
Seen at ICA, London, Sunday 28 August 2016.

The Clan film posterEl clan (The Clan, 2015) [Argentina/Spain]
Director/Writer Pablo Trapero; Cinematographer Julián Apezteguia; Starring Guillermo Francella, Peter Lanzani; Length 108 minutes.
Seen at Curzon Mayfair, London, Sunday 11 September 2016.

Ouaga Girls (2017)

Following this morning’s review of Even When I Fall, my mini-theme today (within my Sheffield Doc/Fest week) is documentaries that take us to different parts of the world. Although this is of course something that a lot of documentaries do, finding a subject that hasn’t been covered can sometimes be difficult, but it’s fair to say there aren’t many documentaries out there about women’s vocational training centres in Burkina Faso, so it’s great to see inside this one.


The film takes the familiar route of following a small number of people amongst those studying at this Ouagadougou auto mechanics training centre, women who are taking car bodywork lessons to go to work for garages in what is repeatedly referred to as ‘men’s work’. The personalities of the various women all come out slowly, not least because at school they are all largely respectful and quiet (perhaps the situation, or maybe it’s the presence of the camera), but there are some strong words about the importance of this education to them. The film is also made with a fair bit of style of its own, carefully edited and framed well, especially in the introductions near the start. On the whole, it’s a likeable and interesting film about women in an unlikely place.

Ouaga Girls film posterCREDITS
Director Theresa Traoré Dahlberg; Cinematographer Iga Mikler; Length 82 minutes.
Seen at Curzon Bloomsbury (Bertha DocHouse), London, Friday 20 October 2017.

Two 2018 Films by Sergei Loznitsa: Victory Day and The Trial

For my history themed week, I’m focusing on a couple more films which are somewhat tangential to history, both made by a Ukrainian filmmaker. The Trial takes footage from the 1930s and uses it to make a point about the way that events are manipulated by the (state-controlled) media, whereas Victory Day is about the way that history informs the present, specifically World War II, taking a celebration of Soviet victory over Germany, but as it unfolds at a monument in Berlin itself. These are slow, self-effacing documentaries that nonetheless reveal something fairly interesting about the ways we relate to history, and the way it can be used.

Continue reading “Two 2018 Films by Sergei Loznitsa: Victory Day and The Trial”

Monos (2019)

As far as revolutionary cinema goes, Monos is very much more about capturing a mood, an intensity to being a guerrilla in the jungle, rather than trading in any particular or specific history. It’s more of a mood piece, and it worked (for me) very well, although critical opinion I’ve seen has certainly been divided. It’s probably not the exemplar of a ‘cinema of resistance’, but it’s about revolutionaries and the idea of resistance.


As an experience of a film, I really liked this. It has a dreamy intensity to it, which starts out as if amongst the legionaries in Beau travail albeit situated in a mountainous and muddy jungle terrain (rather than the heat of Claire Denis’s film) and with teenage revolutionaries in a sort of Lord of the Flies-type dystopia. The Latin American setting and the guerrilla-style warfare that is being undertaken suggests that they are fighting against state suppression and possibly some kind of American military-industrial nexus of capitalist interests, but honestly I’m just reading all that in based on what I’ve seen of South American liberationist history (as it has been portrayed on film at least), and no specifics are ever touched upon here, undoubtedly quite intentionally. However, it has such a concrete sense of place, and evokes such a tangible mood through the movement of the actors in the setting, and the throbbing Mica Levi score, that it achieves something that feels properly cinematic, though perhaps on reflection it’s more of a suggestion of cinema than something fully achieved. What it does evoke is a scenario that could as easily be science-fiction, making it more Hunger Games than Apocalypse Now. Ultimately it feels like more of a cautionary tale about what happens when trust breaks down amongst a group than about any specific socio-political idea, with the curiously gender-non-specific character of Rambo (Sofia Buenaventura) a particular highlight for me. It must have been an intense shoot.

Monos film posterCREDITS
Director Alejandro Landes; Writers Landes and Alexis Dos Santos; Cinematographer Jasper Wolf; Starring Julianne Nicholson, Moisés Arias, Sofia Buenaventura, Julián Giraldo; Length 103 minutes.
Seen at ICA, London, Wednesday 13 November 2019.

Global Cinema 2: Albania – Wild Flower (2016)

Moving onto my next country in the Global Cinema series, with a short documentary from Albania (albeit directed by a Dutch filmmaking team). It covers the same subject matter as Italian director Laura Bispuri’s well-regarded debut Sworn Virgin (2015), though I haven’t seen that and it doesn’t appear to be easily available, hence turning to what’s available on streaming services.


Albanian flagRepublic of Albania (Shqipëri)
population 2.8 million | capital Tirana (557k) | largest cities Tirana, Durrës (113k), Vlorë (80k), Shkodër (79k), Elbasan (77k) | area 28,748 km2 | religions Islam (58.8%), Christianity (16.9%) | official language Albanian (shqip) | major ethnicity Albanians (83%) | currency Lek (L) [ALL] | internet .al

A country of diverse geography located on the Adriatic and Ionian Sea. Its name comes from the Latin, possibly derived from the Albani tribe (though the Albanian name for the country is usually interpreted as meaning “Land of the Eagles”). Though part of many historic civilisations, an autonomous principality (Arbanon or Arbër) dates to the 12th century, and the Kingdom of Albania to the 13th century. After the Ottomans conquered them in the 15th century, independence was officially declared on 28 November 1912. A short-lived kingdom under Zog I lasted until World War II, at which time the country was occupied by first Italy and then Nazi Germany. Dictator Enver Hoxha took charge of a Communist government following the war, proclaiming an atheist state allied to the Soviets. It has latterly joined NATO but never been formally admitted to the EU, over questions around free and fair democracy. Currently it is ruled by a President and Prime Minister.

The earliest Albanian films were made in the early-20th century, although production only really started in earnest in the 1940s, and a national film archive was founded in that same decade. Production continues sporadically, with a number of film festivals taking place, particularly in Tirana.


Wild Flower (2016)

This documentary weighs in under an hour in length, but there’s a lot of pathos to this documentary portrait of a ‘burrnesha’ (sworn virgin), a practice that developed out of a harsh code that prevented women from leading their own independent lives, and allows them some semblance of equality in a patriarchal society. Lule, the lady in question here is nearing the age of 80 and lives as a sheep farmer out in the rough hills of Albiania; her commitment to her sheep is unwavering and even as she starts to be brought into town by her family, who want her to retire, she still fusses over her sheep. We get to see her living in her small, rough-hewn home, tending to her sheep, nimbly climbing out of the sheep shed’s window at one point, and otherwise leading them around the hills. It’s a fascinating little glimpse into another way of life that continues, to a certain extent, even now in modern Europe.

Wild Flower film posterCREDITS
Director Fathia Bazi; Cinematographer Koen van Herk; Length 54 minutes.
Seen at home (Amazon streaming), London, Sunday 10 May 2020.

Battles (2015)

This Friday sees the UK release of war film 1917, so I’m looking at some war-themed films, though not all exactly in the ‘war film’ genre. Today, for example, is a fascinating and beautifully-shot documentary that is more about the visible presence of a history of war within the landscape, sometimes in quite subtle ways.


There’s such a range of documentaries in the world, it’s sad to think that some people might link the form solely with talking heads and archival footage. This strange Belgian piece (with many other countries co-producing) manages to sustain its enigmatic tone throughout its whole 90 minutes and four sections, such that it’s hard precisely to say what’s going on, just that all of it is related to the (sometimes unusual) ways in which a 20th century history of war has manifested itself throughout continental Europe. There’s a woman who sits in her flat in the morning eating breakfast, then puts on a military uniform and travels to the woods to some of kind of training facility — or maybe it’s just an elaborate ‘escape room’-type game for people with too much money — where she translates another instructor’s barked orders into English. There’s another where a man sits in his home basking in the dappled light coming through the windows before at length we discover it’s a former bunker. And then there is the inflatable weaponry. It’s all inscrutably presented, even a little comical at times, but it’s never boring thanks to the careful editing and very precise and lustrous framing of each shot.

Battles film posterCREDITS
Director/Writer Isabelle Tollenaere; Cinematographer Frédéric Noirhomme; Length 90 minutes.
Seen at home (Mubi streaming), London, Tuesday 17 April 2018.

Holiday (2018)

I couldn’t find a category in my themed weeks in which to house this Danish-Dutch-Swedish co-production (albeit set in Turkey). There’s been a lot of talk in the last few years about what a “#MeToo” film might look like, but there have always been filmmakers making dramas about the psychological violence of patriarchy, and this is very much a film about that, which may not make it the film you most want to watch when you’re winding down at the end of a year — this is absolutely not to be confused with the more seasonally-appropriate The Holiday (2006), a very different film entirely — but it’s a compelling and direct drama all the same.


It’s probably fair to say this isn’t an easy movie to watch. The exquisitely poised formal style of the film, people framed in bright open, modern spaces (it’s set at a beach house in Turkey being rented by criminals) and with a largely fixed camera, creates the impression of a languid atmosphere, but yet there is evident tension reverberating through every frame. This is created from the start by situating us with a young blonde woman, Sascha (Victoria Carmen Sonne), who is being picked up by an older man. It’s not clear what their relationship is, but it becomes evident that he is not happy with her and when he slaps her it immediately puts the whole audience on edge. This man turns out to be a minor side character who’s not seen for much of the rest of the film, and when the filmmaker, Swedish director Isabella Eklöf, moves the action on to Sascha with her boyfriend Michael (Lai Yde) at the beach house, she momentarily allows us to feel relaxed by their apparently loving interaction. However, it soon becomes clear that he’s keeping her (she refers to him as her boss at one point) and that he’s involved with shady business, so his behaviour towards her and around her slowly comes to seem a little more creepy and insidious, especially when she makes friends with some other tourists in their resort. Although the film follows Sascha, she never gets any monologues to explain how she feels, and much of the emotional journey is mapped out on her face and through her actions. What we’re left with is a film that seems to inscribe patriarchal violence into every frame, into the setting, the architecture, the vehicles, but that hardly lessens those scenes where it erupts into actual violence (even when it’s implied or just heard off-screen), and the transfigurative effect that it plays on the psyche of those like Sascha who are abused; her own turn towards the end of the film feels entirely within the scope of this story.

Holiday film posterCREDITS
Director/Writer Isabella Eklöf; Cinematographer Nadim Carlsen; Starring Victoria Carmen Sonne, Lai Yde, Thijs Römer; Length 93 minutes.
Seen at ICA, London, Wednesday 7 August 2019.

تهران شهر عشق Tehran shahr-e eshgh (Tehran: City of Love, 2018)

I can’t say I was expecting a Nordic-style deadpan multi-strand story of three misfits looking for love from an Iranian film (in a post-screening Q&A the filmmaker quoted Kaurismäki, Roy Andersson and Jim Jarmusch when naming his reference points), though the fact that it’s shot through with a sort of hangdog melancholy feels a bit more in keeping with what I’ve seen from the area. It’s lovely, though, both in its filmmaking and the performances — lots of carefully-composed frontal shots, with very low-key interactions as we watch the characters’ faces carefully for signs of reaction: brief flickering smiles from the cosmetic surgeon’s receptionist Mina (Forough Ghajabagli); anything that’s not utter gloom from funeral singer Vahid (Mehdi Saki); and a hint of same-sex attraction from bodybuilder Hessam (Amir Hessam Bakhtiari). Nothing quite goes as you think it might, but equally nothing goes truly dark, there’s just the constant undercurrent of potentiality as well as absurdity, and it’s sort of lovely to see each of these three characters come out of their respective shells, even briefly.

Film posterCREDITS
Director Ali Jaberansari علی جابر انصاری; Writers Jaberansari and Maryam Najafi مریم نجفی; Cinematographer Mohammad Reza Jahanpanah محمدرضا جهان پناه; Starring Forough Ghajabagli فروغ قجابگلی, Mehdi Saki مهدی ساکی, Amir Hessam Bakhtiari امیرحسام بختیاری, Behnaz Jafari بهناز جعفری; Length 102 minutes.
Seen at Vue West End, London, Friday 19 October 2018.

Tarde para morir joven (Too Late to Die Young, 2018)

I have been doing a week of South American cinema building up to the release in UK cinemas today of the Argentinian epic La flor (2018), so I am finishing the week off with a review of a recent Chilean film (albeit with financing from around the continent, including Argentina). I saw this film at last year’s London Film Festival, and it featured high in my favourite films of 2018. It was given a UK cinematic release in 2019 and I got to see it again, and still very much liked it.


There’s a sense in which this film reminded me of the previous year’s Estiu 1993 (Summer 1993, 2017), being a Spanish language film about young women set in the 1990s in a verdant forest setting at the edge of civilisation, but beyond that I should probably accept they are doing quite different things. For a start, the protagonists of this film are largely older (there’s one young girl, Clara, who I interpreted as the director’s surrogate) but this mostly focuses on Sofia (Demian Hernández) and her relationship with various boys (and her dad) in the small commune they live in just outside Santiago. It never feels so much driven by a plot as by a need to represent all the different people within the community, and with great economy show how they feel about one another, and it’s Sofia and Lucas (Antar Machado) who become the film’s focus — though never to the exclusion of others.

That may all make it less immediately accessible than Summer 1993, but it’s somehow even more beautiful and poetic in the way that it conjures an era, never heavy-handed in the way it layers on these meanings — there aren’t even any on-screen titles suggesting when it’s set, given away just by the absence of electronics, the older models of car, some of the clothes (though the fashion wasn’t emphasised), the toys, and the music choices (a piece of music by Mazzy Star — in a particularly beautifully-shot scene in a bathtub — suddenly took me back 25 years, and I suppose that was precisely the point). It’s about a time in history when Chile was emerging from a period of dictatorship, but it’s also about the director’s childhood, and it’s about growing through that turbulence and into yourself as a person. Also, there’s also rarely a scene without a dog in it, who become almost as important to the community as some of the adults (at least to the kids, who have pretty conflicted feelings about their parents).

Film posterCREDITS
Director/Writer Dominga Sotomayor; Cinematographer Inti Briones; Starring Demian Hernández, Antar Machado; Length 110 minutes.
Seen at Vue West End, London, Sunday 14 October 2018 (and most recently at ICA, London, Saturday 1 June 2019).

Dee sitonu a weti (Stones Have Laws, 2018)

I’ve already touched on cinematic hybridity — that blend between documentary and fictional modes of storytelling — a number of times, most recently with reference to some Brazilian films such as Baronesa (2017). This is extended by two Dutch filmmakers working in Suriname with a community of former slaves, crafting a work of visual beauty and also imbued with a sense of poetic storytelling, as part of a creative process involving the entire community.


There’s a certain type of film that London’s Institute for Contemporary Arts presents — and if you live in a large city, maybe you too have some kind of modern arts space with galleries, musical/performance venues, a bookshop heavy on theoretical texts and which has a cinema too. Anyway, there are films they show there that in my mind are simply filed away as “ICA films”, because where else would I see them? Last year’s The Nothing Factory was definitely one such film (and indeed the other output of production company Terratreme), the Frames of Representation festival, the Straub-Huillet season… I could go on. And now there’s this one: a Dutch film made in Suriname with (and about) a community descended originally from slaves, the Maroon people, which merges storytelling, documentary and staged theatre to tell a history, to depict a way of life, and to critique colonialism. It’s a very ICA film.

That’s not to say it’s bad, but I couldn’t quite tell you what happens. It has chapters, and a sort of free associative narrative quality, where it moves from various groups of people to others. Sometimes we see documentary-like scenes of nature — there are some sweepingly beautiful and impressive shots of the scenery — or of people making things or working. There are scenes where the inhabitants/actors stand and enunciate texts with all the studied grace of a Straub-Huillet film, and there’s even a bit of humorous self-critique whereby they discuss the Dutch filmmakers’ production terms and a distribution deal they’re not so happy about.

The film screened with a filmed introduction by the three directors (the two Dutch ones, and Tolin Alexander, a local Surinamese director) about the film and their process, and throughout this short featurette it is emphasised how Stones Have Laws was very much a collaborative artwork, whereby the text and the presentation was developed in consultation with the people who were not merely actors but also the very source for the material. It’s about being respectful to cultures who may not welcome the presence of outsiders, and it’s a fascinating work on several levels, and I think it’s a great example of the way that ethnographic concerns can work with its subjects to produce a sort of hybrid form.

Stones Have Laws film posterCREDITS
Directors Lonnie van Brummelen, Siebren de Haan and Tolin Erwin Alexander; Writers collaborative with the cast; Cinematographers van Brummelen and de Haan; Length 100 minutes.
Seen at ICA, London, Friday 16 August 2019.