Few true-life stories are as inspiring as that of Darko Kralj, the subject of Dejan Acimovic’s new documentary The King. A forty-year-old Croatian shot-putter who excels in his sport despite having lost a leg in 1991 during the Croatian War of Independence, this large-bodied athlete displays an indomitable spirit that is hard to resist.
The slice-of-life film profiles the now 40-year-old Kralj, who nearly lost his life as a result of his injuries. But after being fitted with a prosthetic leg below the knee, he went on to compete in numerous Paralympic competitions, at one point not only setting a new world’s record but then immediately surpassing it five times in a row.
Harrowing archival footage depicts the medical treatment of Kralj’s wounds, as well as the fitting of his artificial limb and the extensive physical therapy he underwent afterwards. But the bulk of the film’s running time is occupied with his present-day life. Happily remarried to a woman who lost her first husband in the same conflict, he’s now the devoted father of three sons who spends much of his time hunting and fishing. There are a few too many scenes depicting these leisure-time activities, as well as a lengthy interlude featuring him making homemade sausage with his extended family. Like so many docs these days, The King feels attenuated at feature length. But Kralj is such an engaging, charismatic subject that it’s easy to forgive the film’s indulgences. The sight of him contentedly swimming at a watering hole with his friends is enough to rob even the most morose viewers of the slightest trace of self-pity
A lawyer, professor and assistant U.S. Attorney who long investigated organized crime in addition to writing 27 novels, Higgins knew well of what he wrote. His first novel, The Friends of Eddie Coyle, was made into a fine film and his third, Cogan’s Trade, the basis of this one, consists of torrents of exceptionally vivid Beantown wiseguy dialogue with bits of plot tucked almost incidentally into the chatter. Moving the action to decimated post-Katrina New Orleans without a tourist in sight, Dominik has done a keen, disciplined job of coaxing the plot out of the shadows while retaining the flavor of underclass lingo and attitude. With the background dominated by then-presidential candidate Barack Obama’s optimistic speeches stressing the availability of “the American promise” to all, some bottom-feeding crims plot what looks like a no-risk scheme: Old-timer Johnny Amato (Vincent Curatola, the great Johnny Sak of The Sopranos) hires unwashed kids Frankie (Scoot McNairy) and Russell (Ben Mendelsohn) to raid the regular card night run by Markie Trattman (Ray Liotta), who once robbed his own game and got away with itWriter-director Andrew Dominik, whose extraordinary Western The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford proved too long and arty for the masses, repositions George V. Higgins’ 1974 Boston mob-world novel as a metaphor for the ills of American capitalism circa 2008, a neatly provocative tact. But he also shamelessly shows off his directorial acumen; unlike the leading character, who’s all business, Dominik makes sure you notice all his moves. Tight, absorbing and entertainingly performed by a virtually all-male cast topped by Brad Pitt, this Weinstein Co. release should generate solid mid-level business this fall
What matter more are style and attitude, which Dominik ladles on like sauce on ribs. Russell’s drug-addled disorientation is represented by multiple distortions of time, visual perception and sound; the pursuit of one victim is imaginatively covered entirely from the outside of the building in which the chase is consummated; Cogan arrives on the scene to the accompaniment of Johnny Cash’s “The Man Comes Around”; the just-scraping-by 21st century hoods drive late-‘60s/early-‘70s cars like a Riviera and Toronado; and one man’s execution is rendered from many angles in a slow-motion explosion of breaking glass and penetrating bullets so elaborate and prolonged that it resembles a self-standing art installation.
In a related way, some of the dialogue scenes, especially a couple of near-monologues superbly delivered by Gandolfini as a booze-guzzling, sex-obsessed, past-his-prime hit man, almost have the feel of brilliant, free-standing acting class scenes; they serve the film’s purposes, to be sure, but there’s a self-consciously showy aspect to them that makes you easily imagine students using them as audition pieces.
The film is terribly smart in every respect, with ne’er-a-false note performances and superb craft work from top to bottom, but it never lets you forget it, from Pitt’s pithy excoriation of Thomas Jefferson’s hypocrisy right down to his “Crime is the business of America” final line that is bound to be widely quoted.
A state-sponsored epic made to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Kazakhstan’s secession from the crumbling Soviet Union, Myn Bala now ranks second only to Avatar in local box-office receipts. Fast-moving and visually ravishing, it was made by seasoned action director Akan Satayev on a reported budget of around $12 million – huge by Kazakh standards –with production values to match. All the same, such a parochial story will be a tough sell to foreign distributors and audiences. Even if it grabs an Oscar nomination, some smart marketing along the lines of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon will be required to generate serious interest abroad
Chosen from over 20,000 contenders, screen novice Asylkhan Tolepov plays Sartay, a teenage freedom fighter whose name is legend in Kazakhstan. A delicate beauty with male-model looks, Tolepov makes an unlikely guerrilla leader, but an engaging and dynamic lead. Other juvenile roles are filled by his fellow students from the Almaty theatre school, who hold their own against an older cast of mostly professional actors.
The movie’s chief flaw is its thuddingly simplistic fairy-tale script, which makes the average Bollywood melodrama seem understated by comparison. All the Kazakh fighters are noble young heroes forever proclaiming their readiness to die for the honor of their homeland and their womenfolk. Conversely, the Dzungars are uniformly ugly, black-clad, bestial conquerors with no qualms about killing children or torching entire villages. No prizes for subtlety, or historical accuracy, or nuanced depiction of geopolitical conflict. Then again, such trivial concerns did not trouble Braveheart either
To their credit, Satayev and his team do their best to give this local story a universal resonance. Switch the costumes and their stirring portrait of a raggle-taggle bandit army rising up against brutal imperial oppressors could equally apply to Robin Hood, the French Resistance, or even Star Wars. There are certainly echoes of Luke Skywalker in Sartay’s childhood back story. Most of all, Satayev’s period blockbuster impresses with its widescreen landscapes and epic combat scenes. Staged by a team that includes veterans of 300 and the Russian action smash Daywatch, the battles are bloody and gripping affairs featuring some spectacular showpiece stunts, one involving a burning horse. Sumptuously shot by Khasan Kydyraliyev, and color-graded in the rich candy hues of vintage postcards, the snowy peaks and lush valleys of the Kazakh steppe appear to contain scenery that rivals the Rockies and the Grand Canyon. If nothing else, Myn Bala should boost tourism to Kazakhstan. Who knows? It may even repair some of the damage caused by Borat
Josh Brolin narrates History's epic new six-part, 12-hour miniseries Mankind: The Story of All of Us, which re-creates key moments from most of human history (hunter-gatherers to WWII). The series offers up fun visual effects, from computer-generated images to well-crafted re-enactments, all at a dizzying pace. In addition to Brolin's narration, History has lined up a bevy of professors, writers and expert historians to flesh out the facts, as well as color commentators such as Anthony Bourdain, Dr. Mehmet Oz, Brian Williams, James Meigs and Henry Louis Gates, whose contributions help give additional dimension to the material
To pull off yet another world history retread requires a rather fresh take, and what History gets right is shaping Mankind around not just the chronology of human development, but ideas and themes. In the first episode (in two parts), the series takes a look at early inventions that separated man from animals, before leading up to one of the biggest game-changers, the Iron Age.
The phrase "game-changer" is probably used too often in the series, though not necessarily without cause. Almost every element of discovery by early man changed the trajectory of humanity: fire, cave paintings, animal domestication, warfare, religion, writing and so on. Though each chapter in the Mankind story picks a general area or people to focus on (including break-out individual stories to help, well, humanize the experience), it also floats around the globe illustrating parallel developments and global repercussions.
The series also brings in flashes of more modern times to help tie the stories together in a way that reminds one of a sidebar conversation had with a friend: mentioning how the Chinese used iron in their crossbows and standardized parts which revolutionized warfare, then showing American Civil War scenes to discuss the musket. Just as the Colt .45 comes into the picture, the episode seems to remember itself, and returns back to the Chinese. Mankind nearly overwhelms viewers with facts, some which even well-entrenched students of history will find illuminating. And despite scattered battle scenes, the series has a PG feel to it, presenting the facts without reveling in their gruesomeness (perhaps not reveling enough, actually -- the ancient past nearly seems like an OK place to be instead of a generally difficult and terrifying one). By pausing on well-known cultural touchstones (the Pyramids, Stonehenge, the Parthenon, the Great Wall of China), the series starts off in a familiar and accessible way, while still throwing in some interesting historical tidbits
Parked acknowledges the dangers and indignities of homelessness
but is determined to look on the bright side. A very sympathetic turn
by Colm Meaney both lends box-office appeal and helps Byrne pull back from the saccharine possibilities inherent in the premise. Both making their feature debuts, Byrne and screenwriter Ciaran Creagh present an Irishman (Meaney's Fred) who, after years of odd jobs in England, returns to find his native country less hospitable than he'd hoped. Unable to afford a flat or to secure public assistance in a time of cutbacks, Fred parks his car in a seaside lot and, through fastidious organization and hygiene, hides his homelessness while trying to get on his feet.
Across the lot, Cathal (Colin Morgan) isn't doing as well. His gray skin and frightful teeth mark him as a junkie, but Fred's in no position to be judgmental. The two strike up a cautious friendship, and Niall Byrne's easygoing acoustic score (when it isn't channeling Satie) colors their small adventures with playfulness instead of desperation. Things take rather predictable turns, with Fred finding a love interest (Milka Ahlroth's Juliana, a pianist taking water aerobics at the pool where Fred cleans up) and Cathal being chased by creditors, and the script can't resist using Fred's watch-repair hobby for one groaningly obvious metaphor. (He examines a broken clock, observing that it's old but has character; it just needs "a good cleaning and a nudge to spring back into life.")
But the film's prefab aspects are countered by Meaney's convincing performance as a man holding shame at bay -- maintaining his dignity by force of will, even as his spirit sinks -- and by an uningratiating supporting cast. Cinematographer John Conroy finds enough shoreline vistas to remind us there are worse places Fred could have wound up, even as we root for the welfare system to give him that one good nudge back into the workingclass world.
The film opens in the style of a film noir from the '50s, with handsome, dark-toned cinematography (by Adam Sikoba) of a couple of crooks stealing a cache of jewels. When the police come in to investigate, Captain Hakl (Ivan Trojan) suspects that something more than a simple robbery is involved. Clues point to a group of Jewish immigrants as the thieves, and State Security contends that they have stolen the jewels to finance a Zionist operation aided by the United States. A German agent (Koch) is called in to help with the investigation, which makes Hakl doubly suspicious of the anti-Semitism underlying the charges. The German turns out to be more complicated than Hakl initially suspects, but the Jews are indeed being unfairly targeted. Yet they confess to the crimes and are brought to a trial that is little more than a propaganda show.
Hakl is portrayed as one honest cop fighting more insidious Communist authorities, but he’s waging an uphill battle. The film succeeds as both a good police procedural and as a biting political commentary on the era. The characterizations, however, could use more texture. It’s never quite clear why Hakl’s marriage is faltering. Trojan, who looks a bit like David Strathairn, is not a conventional leading man, but he brings a convincing sense of integrity to his portrayal. Koch finds depths in his troubled character, and Sona Norisova brings warmth to the rather unformed role of Hakl’s wife. The actors playing the Communist officials are appropriately oily and menacing. The film’s production design is impeccable, and the haunting music by Jan P. Muchow and Michal Novinski contributes to the ominous mood. A couple of scenes of graphic violence may be offputting to the arthouse audiences that support this type of film, but Shadow succeeds in bringing a disturbing period back to life
Among the endless possibilities afforded by the medium of cinema, watching people play video games has to rank as among the least exciting. But that’s exactly what’s delivered in Man at War, Jacek Blawut’s documentary profiling various several obsessive devotees of IL-2 Sturmovik, a popular computer flight simulator recreating World War II aerial battles. You won’t be surprised to find out that they’re all men.
Other than that, they’re a fairly diverse bunch, encompassing a variety of ages, professions and ethnicities (American, Polish, German and Russian). Some of them have a more than casual interest in the subject, such the descendants of an American World War II pilot and a German Luftwaffe pilot. Others apparently just like to pretend that they’re strapped into a cockpit and have the opportunity to blow stuff up.
Looking on with reactions ranging from bemusement to eye-rolling disgust are the women in their lives, including one elderly grandmother who quite wisely voices the wish that her grandson would pull himself away from the computer already and find himself a nice girl.
After a lengthy build-up composed of alternating profiles of the various players, including a middle-aged priest/dentist who attaches Clark Gable’s face to his computer avatar, the film’s climax is a lengthy segment devoted to an actual game in which they all participate. Other than serving as a generous free advertisement for the product (which does indeed boast impressive graphics), it’s a tedious affair made notable only by the players’ fanatical passion…except, of course, when one of them embarrassedly steps away from the battle to pay for a pizza delivery.
