Stand-up comic Taika Waititi shows his movie-making mettle by writing and directing 'Boy', a funny, endearing and perceptive insight into the journey through adolescence of 11-year-old Alamein (a vocal and powerful James Rolleston, who's been labelled with the movie's title as a nickname). Set in a particularly plausible version of Waititi's homeland circa 1984, a luscious, rural New Zealand is the stomping ground for Boy, his mischievous friends, his brother (who believes he has super powers) and his confidant goat. The absence of his father for the better part of his childhood has left a role model-vacuum, filled by his idol Michael Jackson, and by the severely inflated fantasies of whom he imagined his dad to be: a war hero, deep sea diver, and, naturally, a phenomenal dancer. Things take a turn, however, when Boy's father, also named Alamein (played by Waititi, who delivers a fantastically charming buffoonery that never becomes annoying) arrives one night with some reprobate friends fresh from prison soon after Boy's gran, the family matriarch, leaves for a week.
Understandably, Boy is enthused to get to know his fast car-driving, gang-leading dad, and he does all he can to shed his juvenile title in hope that he will not be left behind again. However, as Alamein snr's real reason for returning becomes clear, and as the discrepancies between the fantasy and his father's reality widen, Boy has to navigate his way into maturity in a manner he'd never before anticipated.
This film has a rare take on the familiar coming-of-age theme. Whereas most stories in this vein seem to grant their young protagonist in the dying minutes an adult understanding of their issues, 'Boy' tactfully shows a personal growth that remains contextualised by childhood, rather than one that leads out of it. Although the movement of the child actors is a little wooden or feigned at times, a special beauty continues to shine throughout the rest of the film, with the dialogue, camera work and production value sharing excellence in equal parts. This, coupled with the film's visual detail and originality, keeps a recurring amazement until the credits roll.
Special mention need also be made of Te Aho Aho Eketone-Whitu, who plays Boy's younger brother, the stoic, deeply pensive Rocky. He manages to translate the character's inner turmoil so acutely through his reserved façade that it becomes difficult to not immediately empathise with him, rather than sympathise from a distance.
Boy has not been released in South Africa yet, but keep a look out for it soon.
25.2.11
19.2.11
Hey Ho Let's Go
I seem to have been transported 30 years into the past this week. My Technics SL-210 record player is now functioning, crooning some Bowie, Fats Waller and The Specials. I've also concluded the lengthy assembly process of my circa-1985 skateboard. It won't be long before the Kings of the Concrete gather for a retrospective in a local pool.
8.2.11
1.2.11
Film Review - The Concert
The Concert, directed by Romanian filmmaker Radu Mihaileanu, is a mercurial yet dazzling get-the-band-back-together French and Russian language film.
Unabashedly buoyant, The Concert portrays Andrey Filipov (Alexeï Guskov) as an endearing but broken janitor, who 30 years prior was a celebrated conductor of the Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra. His fall occured when Filipov was publicly ousted for refusing to fire his Jewish musicians at the Soviet government's behest.
When Filipov intercepts an invitation for the Bolshoi to play at the Châtelet Theater in Paris, he recognises his last chance to reunite his gypsy and Jewish musicians and to finally perform Tchaikovsky's Violin concerto. The show hinges, however, on Filipov's demand that the graceful Anne-Marie Jacquet (a regal, if slightly too self-restrained Mélanie Laurent, whom I've been eagerly awaiting to see again after her role in Inglourious Basterds) will agree to be his violin soloist.
Whilst the reasons for Jacquet's inclusion are disquietingly called into question, Filipov has the added frenetic nightmare of getting the reprobate musicians to the stage on time, if he is to ever lay the ignominy of his past to rest.
The first two thirds of The Concert brilliantly established nuanced yet endearing characters within a plot readily poised for humour and affection. Wonderful scenes of tongue-and-cheek villainy aligned with films detailing lighthearted impersonation and miscreancy were delivered consistently, satisfying the expectations you didn't anticipate having at the start of the movie. Frustratingly, the final chapter flounders at the point that should have been easiest to sell: the performance. Mihaileanu lost some sight of his tone by jarringly adding the odd moment of outrageous and over-the-top humour with the emotional climax. Though it was only moments that periodically interjected, they made it difficult to maintain in the film's closing the emotional connection so well established in the previous chapters.
Despite this momentary loss of focus, The Concert easily soared for a number of other reasons. Fantastically lyrical scenes developed with a tender yet robust levity, exceedingly well supported by a score that never over-stepped it's bounds into interference (compared to, for example, August Rush). The acting was also nearly uniformly superb, with special mention necessary for Dmitri Nazarov as Aleksandr 'Sasha' Grosman, who played the unassuming and heartbreakingly earnest best friend to Filipov. The Concert is a must-see.
Unabashedly buoyant, The Concert portrays Andrey Filipov (Alexeï Guskov) as an endearing but broken janitor, who 30 years prior was a celebrated conductor of the Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra. His fall occured when Filipov was publicly ousted for refusing to fire his Jewish musicians at the Soviet government's behest.
When Filipov intercepts an invitation for the Bolshoi to play at the Châtelet Theater in Paris, he recognises his last chance to reunite his gypsy and Jewish musicians and to finally perform Tchaikovsky's Violin concerto. The show hinges, however, on Filipov's demand that the graceful Anne-Marie Jacquet (a regal, if slightly too self-restrained Mélanie Laurent, whom I've been eagerly awaiting to see again after her role in Inglourious Basterds) will agree to be his violin soloist.
Whilst the reasons for Jacquet's inclusion are disquietingly called into question, Filipov has the added frenetic nightmare of getting the reprobate musicians to the stage on time, if he is to ever lay the ignominy of his past to rest.
The first two thirds of The Concert brilliantly established nuanced yet endearing characters within a plot readily poised for humour and affection. Wonderful scenes of tongue-and-cheek villainy aligned with films detailing lighthearted impersonation and miscreancy were delivered consistently, satisfying the expectations you didn't anticipate having at the start of the movie. Frustratingly, the final chapter flounders at the point that should have been easiest to sell: the performance. Mihaileanu lost some sight of his tone by jarringly adding the odd moment of outrageous and over-the-top humour with the emotional climax. Though it was only moments that periodically interjected, they made it difficult to maintain in the film's closing the emotional connection so well established in the previous chapters.
Despite this momentary loss of focus, The Concert easily soared for a number of other reasons. Fantastically lyrical scenes developed with a tender yet robust levity, exceedingly well supported by a score that never over-stepped it's bounds into interference (compared to, for example, August Rush). The acting was also nearly uniformly superb, with special mention necessary for Dmitri Nazarov as Aleksandr 'Sasha' Grosman, who played the unassuming and heartbreakingly earnest best friend to Filipov. The Concert is a must-see.
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