Review: The Secret in Their Eyes

Trailer

If you keep going over the past, you're going to end up with a thousand pasts and no future.

At its surface, "The Secret In Their Eyes," which won Best Foreign Language Film (Argentina) at the 2010 Academy Awards, appears to be a police drama, but as the story evolves it becomes a mesmerizing film that spans two decades, with emotional intertwining themes and rich, fully developed characters.

The film begins in 1999, 25 years after the brutal rape and homicide of 23-year-old newlywed Liliana Coloto (Carla Quevedo) went unsolved, due mainly to a corrupt legal system. The criminal investigator, Benjamin Esposito (Ricardo Darin), now retired, is still haunted by the case and the events surrounding it and, to cope, is attempting to write a novel about it.

He reunites with Irene Hastings (Soledad Villamil), his former supervisor on the case and with whom he was (is?) in love, to present to her his idea and notes for the novel. She is affected by the case as well, and neither has talked about it until now.

From here, the movie follows a two-themed track as it flashes back to the mid-70's and the characters involved attempting to solve the case, and flashes forward as they attempt to live in its aftermath.

For one, it's a detective story that primarily involves Hastings, Esposito and his alcoholic assistant, Pablo Sandoval (Guillermo Francella), an affliction rendered even more tragic by revelations of his keen mind, along with his sense of humor and genuine affection for Esposito. For such a heavy drama, the two share some very good comedic and lighthearted moments.

The detective track also introduces us to Ricardo Morales, Liliana's grieving husband, who is played thoughtfully by Pablo Rago. He is devastated by Liliana's death, conveyed through some heartwrenching scenes, and goes to obsessive lengths to find the killer and avenge his wife.

When we are introduced to the primary suspect, Isidoro Gomez (Javier Godino), it is done in a breathtaking scene that takes place during a soccer game and is filmed in a fashion I've never seen before. Forget the fact that they find the guy in a jam-packed stadium, it is so uniquely shot and suspenseful that it is quite memorable.

Soledad Villamil and Ricardo Darin (Sony Pictures Classics)

Intertwined with the police story, the film is also a story of unspoken love between Irene and Benjamin, and how the inability to acknowledge their feelings for each other dooms them to lives they may not have been meant to live. As a result, they seem forever caught in the past, and their only future is to live with the notion of how things should have been.

What I really like about this film is how the two different tracks reflect the same themes. As the case is reopened, also reawakened are the unspoken feelings between Benjamin and Irene; as the case -- chillingly I might add -- addresses the issue of "How do you live a life full of nothing," Irene is forced to answer this question based on her life choices ... to mention just a couple.

The two tracks are also full of subtle parallels that I love: A typewriter with a missing "A" key, an "irresistible smile" that is initially unforthcoming, doors that are strategically left open or decidedly shut, photographs with eerie similarities ... each of these, and more, neatly apply to and are revisited in both the detective story and the love story at precise points.

The movie is graphic, but not gratuitously so, and at times, some plotlines are a stretch. But it's a movie, and thanks to some well-crafted scenes, including one of perceived self-sacrifice, and the actors' intricate performances set against a gorgeous soundtrack, the ride up to the film's climax is both riveting and dreamlike.

And what a thrill the climax is, as the story is peeled back layer by layer in a series of enthralling revelations, including a bone-chilling twist that is both jolting and, on a deeper level, a resounding sentiment of the perils in making the past the present and, subsequently, wiping out any chance at a future.

Review: The Eclipse

For the majority of this movie, I wasn't sure where "The Eclipse" was going. And even after watching it, I'm not sure what it was supposed to be. Was it a ghost story? A love story? A character drama? A thriller?

But as the movie progressed, I found that I didn't really much care, because I began to feel like I was actually reading a novel, getting lost in the characters, their stories and the gorgeous setting where it all took place.

It centers around a widower named Michael Farr (Ciaran Hinds), who lives in the picturesque seaside town of Cobh, Ireland, and is still grieving the loss of his wife and experiencing disturbing supernatural events in the process. He volunteers at a literary festival in town, where his path crosses with two authors: Lena Morelle (Iben Hjejle), an English woman who writes sensitive books dealing with ghosts, and Nicholas Holden (Aidan Quinn), a famous and pompous American novelist.

There's pretty much something for everyone in this, but if you're looking for a straight-up supernatural thriller, you're going to be disappointed. It's a very tough movie to describe, and sometimes feels unnecessarily confusing, but I enjoyed it for its thoughtfulness and quiet manner.

I loved the stunning, panoramic views of Cobh, and have decided to go there someday. It felt cold, gray, rainy -- there were scenic drives, a looming, magnificent cathedral that consistently makes its presence felt, secluded cabins overlooking the ocean, hotel bars ... there were walks with hot coffee and deep conversations.

Ciaran Hinds and Iben Hjejle (Magnolia Pictures)

I also gradually developed a crush on Lena -- or maybe it was Iben, who I actually didn't recognize from "High Fidelity." She was perfectly cast here, and played it very dignified and cool with an underlying sense of vulnerability. I also loved Quinn, who was seemingly cast against type as an overtly arrogant and selfish boob, and it was very entertaining to watch him in that skin.

What I may have enjoyed most, though, was the soundtrack, which I was surprised to learn was written by director Conor McPherson and his wife. Like the movie, it varies greatly -- from soft and haunting to light and peppy piano, to absolutely beautiful choral pieces.

Featured here are The Mornington Singers, a Dublin Chamber Choir, who perform the Kyrie theme that plays throughout. You can listen to a short interview with McPherson and the piece that is played at their website, or by clicking here (you will need RealPlayer).

As McPherson discusses his thoughts about the music, he makes an awesome reference to "The Deer Hunter," one of my absolute favorite movies, in which he compares the choral piece here to those accompanying Robert De Niro's character while he is hunting in the mountains.

Ciaran Hinds (Magnolia Pictures)

But rest assured, if you're looking for thrills and chills, you will get them. There were scenes in here that literally made me yell out loud, because I was taken completely by surprise. And, frankly, a few of them are scary as hell ... albeit a tad perplexing.

But if you find yourself confused by the story, I'd say not to worry and enjoy the journey. I can't give too much away, but there's an incredibly emotional and cathartic scene near the end that was staged absolutely perfectly. And judging by the fact my face went all numb and my eyes started to water (not crying, I held it together!) the ol' ticker sped up and I had chills going up my spine, it was one of the more evocative and beautifully done scenes I've seen in a while.

So don't worry too much about what genre this movie fits in. For me, it can be boiled down to a simple story about overcoming grief and connecting with people as our paths intertwine. And I think this is a universal sentiment that can be appreciated by anyone, no matter how you want to label this movie.

Review: The White Ribbon

I wanted to tell a story of a group of children who took the ideals practiced by their parents' generation and obeyed them blindly. But once you start to obey an ideal blindly, it becomes inhuman. That is at the root of every form of terrorism. -- Director Michael Haneke

Here is a movie that works on you ...

I'm not sure I can recommend "The White Ribbon", as I watched it yesterday afternoon and felt it to be unsettling. It takes place in a small, rural village in Northern Germany before World War I. A series of disturbing "accidents" takes place, graduating into more sinister acts, including atrocities on children.

We never really see them, because they're hidden under the guise of a simple, picturesque community ... brought out more so by the rich black and white cinematography -- color would have ruined this movie. The winter scenes feel almost purifying, despite the evil that always lurks beneath.

What we do see is a very stern and authoritarian society, where, primarily children receive ritualistic punishments for stepping out of line. Does this kind of treatment lead to the acts that are occurring in the town, a rebellious response maybe?

While the village tries to discover who is committing these acts, we start to feel that it is not really important "who dunnit," but rather that they were done in the first place. And the answer to that is likely more chilling than the acts themselves.

(Films du Losange, Sony Pictures Classics)

There's a common perception about this film that it was the birth of fascism and that some of these kids grew up to be Nazis. Susanne Lothar, who played the midwife in the film, recalled the words a child psychologist once told her.

"Everything a child experiences becomes an integral part of its character. A child's mind is like a freshly plowed field. If you walk in it wearing boots, you leave deep impacts. The older you get, the harder the soil gets. But the child's field is freshly plowed and soft, the boots are stiff and hard, and they leave deep marks. A child never forgets it, and as a grownup, passes on its humiliation."

While it very well could be a stepping stone toward the evil we see in World War II, it feels like it's a revelation of the evil that we are all susceptible to under the right circumstances.

Before I saw this film, I found the hymn that plays during the trailer -- "Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott" -- to be chilling without knowing what they were singing. I looked it up and found the following translation. As my apartment starts to darken, and rain starts to fall outside the window, I feel that, for as optimistic as some of the lyrics are, they convey a sense of foreboding in what we, demonstrated by this film, must face during our lives, wherever and whenever we may be.

A Mighty Fortress is our God

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.

Review: Invictus

I popped in "Invictus" before work yesterday, and I was surprised to find myself still thinking about parts of it today.

It's a great story. Nelson Mandela (Morgan Freeman) -- in his first term as the South African president after having been imprisoned for 27 years -- tries to reunite the country through the national rugby team. He forms a relationship with the captain of the Springboks, Francois Pienaar (Matt Damon), helping to motivate him to lead the underachieving team to win the 1995 World Cup -- hosted in South Africa -- in an effort to display a reconciliation between black and white Africans on the world stage.

And they did -- defeating powerhouse New Zealand in the final.

But I didn't start to settle into this thing until the scene where Pienaar has tea with Mandela. I may be in the minority, but I'm almost always more captivated by two people simply talking than I am in virtually any given action scene -- and the work of Freeman and Damon here is very good.

Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon (Warner Bros. Pictures)

One aspect particularly grabbed me: The two started their conversation sitting across from each other, and as they got into it, Freeman moved to the couch next to Damon. I don't know if this was direction by Clint Eastwood or a calculated move by Freeman, but watch Damon's eyes. They give a quick reaction to this move that makes me wonder if Freeman mildly surprised him, or if it was a subtle character choice to convey his reaction to "Mandela" moving closer.

Whatever it was, this was one of those "blink and you'll miss it" instances of genuineness that I always look for in movies, and I appreciate them every time. Damon has become one of those actors that makes every movie more interesting just by being in it. It's always clear to me that his focus is helping to tell the story, not showboating, and he played this role with an understated intensity, which could not have been done any other way.

(Warner Bros. Pictures)

It's here where the movie starts to pick up. I liked the scene where the team holds a rugby clinic with a group of kids, and the music that accompanied it. Then they start to gain popularity as they knock off their competitors, interchanged with scenes of Mandela having meetings and essentially "takin' care of business."

The rugby matches looked pretty authentic to me, making me think I'd sure as hell be a fan if we had it here, and I'm always a sucker for the obligatory scenes: fans starting to unite behind the team's success, rabid roars and chanting in the arena, and fans in bars around the country celebrating with libations -- similar to the video of United States soccer fans celebrating Landon Donovan's goal against Algeria in the 2010 World Cup.

As all this is going on, you start to realize that it's no longer a political motive for Mandela to bring the country together, but a humanitarian one -- one born out of forgiveness. In one scene, a group of Mandela's bodyguards, both black and white who were brought together under racially charged circumstances, start playing an informal game of rugby and having a grand ol' time -- which I thought was nicely done, portraying what Mandela was trying to do with a country of 42 million.

Morgan Freeman (Warner Bros. Pictures)

As you start to see how remarkable a man Mandela is by his actions throughout, Pienaar encapsulates his dedication with a single line as he reflects the night before the World Cup final: "I was thinking about how you spend 30 years in a tiny cell, and come out ready to forgive the people who put you there."

The final match was fairly standard, but it was done well. One part shocked me, though, and sent me scrambling to the Internet to see if it had actually happened. A pilot of a commercial jet liner notes to his co-captain that he has control of the plane and chillingly states that "whatever happens next is on my hands." And the jet starts to take a direct route toward the stadium, dropping in altitude ... but it turns out to be a flyover, with the words "Good Luck Bokkes" written on the belly of the plane.

Now, I was praying that this was not something added for dramatic effect, using our fear after 9/11 as a ploy to deliver a bit of suspense. But I was astonished to see that it DID really happen, there was only some dramatic license involved. And I was admittedly ashamed for thinking the infallible Mr. Eastwood would ever pull anything like that.

But with all that, there was one scene that singularly made this movie for me. The team takes a trip to visit the prison in which Mandela was held, and Pienaar steps into Mandella's cell, closes the barred door and imagines life there. As this plays out, Freeman's voice reads the stirring poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley that provided inspiration and hope for Mandela in the bleakest of circumstances.

Matt Damon (Warner Bros. Pictures)

It is a piece that tells you everything you need to know about the person Nelson Mandela is -- it is an affirmation of strength, defiance and the power of conviction that I've not seen put into words so well in very many instances ... and as it echoes in my head a day after hearing it for the first time, it's something I'll remember long after the memory of this movie fades.

Invictus
William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Review: The Road

* May be a spoiler near the end ... read at your own peril.

I read "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy a while ago, knowing that they were going to make a movie out of it, and when I finished the book I couldn't see how that would be possible.

Watching the movie tonight, I have to admit for the first 30 minutes or so, I still felt that way. But as the story unfolded over the hour and 53 minutes it took to tell, it quietly evolved into a surprisingly beautiful piece of work.

The setting is post-apocalyptic, and the plot is simple: A man (Viggo Mortensen) and his son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) merely trying to survive in a world that is uninhabitable. Complementing the plot nicely is the equally simple soundtrack, a solitary piano eventually accompanied by a cello that I thought sounded both haunting and hopeful as the father and son made their way through the cold and the gray, the ash, the devastation and the savagery that now defines the majority of those that survived whatever it is that has happened.

I found the cinematography to be gorgeous in a way, despite being predominantly dark and depressing, because offsetting this were vibrant colors that washed over you when the film conveyed any kind of positivity.

Expanding on this sense is the scene I remember most from the book, and the movie's interpretation didn't disappoint. The two are slowly starving to death and spending their entire existence searching for food in the most revolting places, withering away and covered in dirt and grime -- which brings out the fire and color in the eyes of the father, who has not and will not give up hope -- and they stumble across a bomb shelter that is stocked full of canned goods, water, toiletries and everything one would need to feel human again.

The bright yellow of the Del Monte canned fruit pops out of the gray as the two indulge in what had to be the best-tasting meal I could imagine ("What do you want for breakfast?!" the father exuberantly asks his son).




Later, we see the bright white of the tub as they take their first hot bath in who knows how long, the water washing coats of grime away in contrast -- giving their faces color. They eat a hot dinner by the warm, amber glow of candlelight as it rains outside above them.

Or consider the flashback scenes, echoes of a happier time, in which the palette is always dramatically changed to bursts of color -- comforting your eyes after having acclimated to the brooding overtones. Watching these, I was reminded of the little girl in the red coat in "Schindler's List," or the flashback scenes in "The Passion of the Christ" -- where you felt that burning need for color and relief -- and it was presented when you -- or the characters -- needed it the most.

My favorite part of this movie, though, came when the two happen across an old man, who is alone. And as they talk to him, that's all I notice ... until the next scene, where they had invited him to dinner around their campfire and I realize that ... it's Robert Duvall!

A funny thing happened when that dawned on me -- I actually felt somewhat comforted by Duvall's presence in this movie. Having seen nearly everything he's done -- multiple times -- he represented a sense of familiarity when I recognized his voice amid the bleak existence that I had felt lost in up to that point.

Not to mention, while he's only on screen for a few minutes, he gives a very evocative performance in a way that only he could deliver.




As the film progressed, one of the most disconcerting feelings I found myself having was wondering how close we may all be to this type of existence. Compounding this feeling was watching the featurette, in which they said that they filmed the majority of this movie at locales that have already suffered similar devastation (Katrina, Mount St. Helens).

But for all its despair, the movie ends with what I believe it was trying to convey all along: a feeling of hope. There's a poignant sense of a story ending and another beginning -- without giving too much away.

And as this feeling grows, we remember a minor scene in the movie where the boy expressed interest in a dog that may have been following them. We also remember that we've been told early on that all animals have been wiped out. Well, for me, seeing a fleeting pan shot of the eternally optimistic face of a worn-down mutt at this point not only drove home that feeling of hope but felt like an incredibly powerful and thought-provoking scene in the movie.

(Dimension Films)

What does the dog represent to you? Clearly this was a strategic choice made, and you'd be amazed at the myriad interpretations that are out there, both optimistic and even foreboding.

I think you can take a lot away from this movie. When everything is stripped away and it's just you and someone else, as Mortensen said, is it simply a matter of survival at that point that defines us, or is it something else? Maybe it's the act of preserving our humanity in the face of hopelessness, sin and despair.

Or maybe it's simply a reminder to not take the things we have for granted in our own lives.

Whatever it is, I did take one thing away from the movie. When I went to the refrigerator later in the evening to scrounge, a burst of yellow popped out at me from the Del Monte can of peaches I had sitting there on the bottom shelf ... and I don't remember them ever tasting so good.