YOU'RE NEXT! - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Some effective jolts, within its been-there-done-that script.

You're Next! (2011) **1/2
dir. Adam Wingard
Starring: Sharni Vinson, AJ Bowen, Joe Swanberg, Margaret Laney, Barbara Crampton, Nicholas Tucci, Wendy Glenn, Amy Seimetz, Ti West and Larry Fessenden

Review By Greg Klymkiw

This energetic, crisply directed home invasion horror thriller delivers up the scares and gore with some panache. I especially loved the delightfully grotesque and ultra-creepy animal masks like those really cute lifelike ones you can buy for your kids at Zoo gift shops. In fact, the deadly home-invading carnage-purveyors might only have been creepier if they all wore matching Larry Harmon Bozo the Clown masks. (Or even creepier than that, if they WERE actually ALL Larry Harmon - but that, I'm afraid is another movie.)

In addition to the aforementioned, the picture is chock-full of babes. When genre thrillers - especially those set in one primary location are sans babes, it's the kiss of death. Always.

Here, though, we not only get babes, we get a mega-kick-ass Aussie chick played spiritedly by Sharni Vinson. Her character, it is revealed, was raised in a survivalist compound Down Under.

I kid you not!

An Aussie Survivalist Babe!!!

What's not to like?

Well, not that I expect much in the way of originality from this sort of movie, especially if the killings are conceived and dispatched with both humour and aplomb - as they most certainly are in the picture, but it's almost all for nought since early on we are assailed with clues which suggest the movie is going to have a twist that falls into the category of: " Oh fuck, I can see an obvious 'twist' coming from miles away and I hope to Christ it's just a red herring and the filmmakers surprise me with something as sick and twisted as what's already on display in terms of the genuine jolts and gore."

But no!

There it is in all its dullsville glory - the dreaded twist I won't reveal for the great unwashed who don't see it coming! (Anyone who doesn't see "it" coming needs a thorough brain wash.)

Come on, guys! Give me a break. Frankly, I'd have been happier if there was NO reason given for the killings save for a whack of psychos just doing what psychos do best. That really would have been better than the, uh... twist.

It's kind of too bad, because the first half of the movie proceeds like a delightful bat out of hell.

An affluent couple (the female half played by the still-delectable Re-Animator babe Barbara Crampton) are celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary in their ultra-chic country mansion and have invited all their kids and assorted significant others to join them. The characters sharing bloodlines are straight out of some lower-drawer Albee or O'Neill play and the conversation round the dinner table plays out with plenty of funny, nasty sniping

Great stuff!

Then the killing starts!

Even Greater!

And then, the aforementioned plot twist!

Uh, not great! Not good! Not even passable.



Thankfully, the carnage continues, but for this genre geek, the movie never quite recovers from a twist that was probably meant to be clever or something. I hate that! This is exactly the sort of thing that can drag potentially great genre pictures right down the crapper. It's too bad, really, because I really think screenwriter Simon Barrett has a lot more going for him than resorting to crap like that. He delivers a decent backdrop, first-rate sniping and a passel of great killings.

And, of course, let's not forget the babe raised on a survival compound in Australia.

Now that is truly inspired!!!

You're Next was unveiled during Midnight Madness at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011) and is now playing theatrically via E-One.

THE DAY - Review by Greg Klymkiw - Lame, ultra-low-budget post-apocalyptic cannibal thriller a dull loser.

The Day (2011) *1/2
dir. Doug Aarniokoski
Starring: Shawn Ashmore, Ashley Bell, Cory Hardrict, Dominic Monaghan, Shannyn Sossamon

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Okay, so we all know when we’re watching a genre picture that’s low-to-no-budget - we’re out in a wilderness setting with one primary location and a relatively small cast. This normally isn’t a problem when the filmmakers go out of their way to make up for a lack of dough by:

(a.) Taking the genre into territory we’ve never quite experienced before and/or;

(b.) Maintaining a sense of dark (and hopefully not tongue-in-cheek) humour and/or;

(c.) Showcasing really good writing in terms of character, theme and dialogue.

This, I think, is especially important for post-apocalyptic thrillers, because the last thing you want to offer fan-boys is a dour, humourless, low-to-no-budget post-apocalyptic thriller.

This is often, shall we say, apocalyptic in more ways than one.


The Day hits zero out of three on the aforementioned checklist of low-to-no-budget genre thriller requirements. It’s a dour, humourless been-there-done-that post-apocalyptic thriller with by-rote writing that no doubt thinks it’s smart. The screenplay by Luke Passmore loads up all the clichés of the genre with a heap of dull blah-blah-blah in confined spaces and stock characters (the cool collected leader, the kick-ass babe with smarts (as it were), the loner kick-ass babe who is seemingly off her rocker, the supposedly funny team member who is sick and holding everyone back and, for the life of me, I can’t even remember who the fifth team member is, but I can assure you he’d probably be more memorable if I bothered to watch the movie again.

The picture focuses on one day in the life of five apocalypse survivors trying to stay a step ahead of crazed cannibals (identified by an “I’m a cannibal” tattoo) looking for fresh meat. Food is in short supply so humans are the best bet for good eating. The one-day-in-the-life conceit could have been interesting, but it’s not fully exploited in any meaningful and/or useful fashion. The device appears to be there because the filmmakers think they're being clever and/or have used it as a let’s-keep-exigencies-of-production-in-mind convention.

None of this is surprising since the movie is all about setting up expectations and then not delivering (and when it does, it's much ado about nothing). For example, early on in the film, the survivors come upon a seemingly abandoned farmhouse. We sit back in anticipation as director Doug Aarniokoski draws out the “suspense” whilst our team slowly susses out the situation. This drags on for what feels like an eternity until… nothing.

All seems well.

Phew!!!

We then have to suffer through a whole lot of dialogue where the actors get to emote and be characters we could care (less) about and it then seems to take another eternity before something vaguely exciting happens. When it does, it’s exactly what I predicted when they first discovered all was well. I have no doubt you'll figure it out too. My apologies, then, for having seen too many movies and knowing exactly where things are going, If you’re going to make a picture like this for no money you better damn well think of shit that geeks like me aren’t waiting for. Or, if you do utilize obvious genre tropes, you better damn well do something interesting and/or funny with them. Instead, the movie plods along with no surprises, no thrills and nothing new under the sun. At times, it’s hard to believe the movie is only ninety minutes. It's so dull it feels like ninety hours

About the best one can say is that The Day is at least professional and borderline competent. The performances are as fine as they can be under the circumstances and director Aarniokoski (director of the incomprehensible hack job Highlander: Endgame and the ludicrous Animals) handles the suspense and action with rudimentary competence. This, however, is hardly a compliment. If the movie had at least been utterly incompetent, it might have been blessed with something resembling entertainment value.

The Day had its unveiling at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011). If it's theatrically released, civilization as we know it will be dead. You can find it on DVD and Blu-Ray from eOne Films home entertainment.

W.E. - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Crazed Overlooked and Underrated Madonna-Directed Fantasia On the Romance of Wallis and Edward Comes To DVD and BluRay via E-One and if you Missed the picture on its barely visible theatrical release, now is the time to Catch up with it.

W.E. (2011)

dir. Madonna

Starring:
Andrea Riseborough,
James D’Arcy,
Abbie Cornish,
Oscar Isaac,
Richard Coyle,
James Fox

***½



Review by
Greg Klymkiw

The King’s Speech gave me pathological hemorrhoids.

Thankfully my piles receded after seeing Madonna’s W.E.

This vaguely feminist fairytale crossed with fashion porn is a wildly stylish, dazzlingly entertaining and sumptuously melodramatic flipside to that horrendous Oscar-baiting nonsense.

Instead of Colin Firth spluttering with nobility as King George VI in television director Tom Hooper’s painfully earnest snooze-fest we get an exuberantly acted reverie into the life of Wallis Simpson (Andrea Riseborough), the snappy dressing American divorcee who wooed King Edward VIII (James D’Arcy) into her boudoir, forcing him to abdicate for the woman he loved and thus allowing his stuttering, half-wit brother to mincingly don the Crown of Jolly Old England, hoist Blighty’s sceptre and eventually provide inspiration for the aforementioned hemorrhoid-inducer.

Madonna and co-writer Alek Keshishian (with script consultation from Madame Ciccone’s ex-hubby, Rock n’ Rolla helmer Guy Ritchie) make the deliciously daffy choice to tell the love story through the eyes of Wally (Abbie Cornish) – named thus by her Wallis Simpson obsessed mother. Wally is married to a philandering, alcoholic, abusive psychiatrist (Richard Coyle) and spends her days wandering through the Sotheby’s public viewing of Wallis and Edward’s soon-to-be-auctioned worldly goods.

Here she meets the dreamy Evgeni (Oscar Isaac) a brilliant Russian musician moonlighting as a security guard. He’s an olive-skinned, high-cheek boned Fabio with a Slavic accent and a great Jason-Statham dome. He tinkles the ivories with passion and reads Rainer Maria Rilke.

He’s a catch!

Instead of immediately plunging herself onto Evgeni’s schwance, she mopes about wondering why her hubby dinks around on her whilst sticking herself with hypodermics full of progesterone – hoping that she’ll get herself a bun in the oven.

And then there’s Sotheby’s. Here she ogles Wallis and Edward’s finery and slips into dollops of their passionate love story – even occasionally getting visits from the ghost of Wallis who dispenses Miss Lonelyheart's advice.

Okay, I bet you’re thinking this all sounds kind of stupid.

Well, it probably would be, but Madonna’s insane, passionate direction yields a movie experience that is pure romance. Via cinematographer Hagen Bogdanski, Madame Ciccone allows the camera to glide and whirl its way through the dress and décor of the filthy rich with such abandon that she creates a magical world that we’re very happy to be a part of.

And I reiterate – this movie is, at its peak, pure, joyous romance!

Take, for instance Wallis and Edward’s first meeting. Madonna stages the ballroom dancing with such sweep and form that she has us soaring as high as her subjects. Or in another instance, Edward gets so pissed off with his party guests snoozing through a Chaplin film screening in his sumptuous parlour that he and Wallis serve up champagne spiked with Benzedrine to liven up the proceedings – and liven up they most certainly do.

Then, there’s my favourite scene of all – Edward gets Wallis to engage in a super-sexy dance with a Nubian sex goddess and Madonna stages the entire sequence with The Sex Pistols blasting out “Pretty Vacant” on the soundtrack.

Why? You ask?

Why the fuck not? I retort!!!

Maybe it’s the old punk in me, but I loved how Madonna is clearly enraptured with Wallis and Edward. She paints a portrait of a Man Who SHOULD Be King. He’s cool. And so, especially, is Wallis. Madonna clearly has little use for the simpering brother who eventually places his butt on the throne and his nasty, controlling harridan wife. (At one point, I even imagined King George's buttocks on the throne and wondered if his farts stuttered too. But I digress.)

I genuinely believe Madonna IS a Monarchist, but she seems to be suggesting that it was the British government and the idiotic protocols imposed upon someone like Edward that destroyed the Monarchy. What it needed most was a King and Queen who were cool. And man, the portrait Madonna paints of these fun-loving lovebirds is cooler than cool.

Madonna even has the audacity to create a loving portrait of the late Dodi Fayed’s father, Mohammad al Fayed. Again, I say – why the fuck not? It’s so obvious that the Monarchy had Princess Diana and her lover Dodi Fayed knocked off. Things might have been very different if Edward had been able to tell everyone to fuck off, marry Wallis AND keep his crown!

Okay, maybe I have a bit of a bias here. Now this might not sound like much of a compliment, but believe me – it is. It’s very heartfelt. I used to have the sweetest, cutest, friendliest white and honey-coloured Shih Tzu. I loved her big time. I named her Wallis after – guess who?

Why? Why the fuck not?

For so long people made such a big deal of what Edward gave up to marry Wallis, but you never heard much about her side of the story. Oddly, this was one of my own personal obsessions and I was delighted that it’s a central thematic question that drives this movie and the character of Abbie.

As I write this, I have yet to read any reviews, but I’d bet my bottom dollar that it gets mercilessly savaged. Everyone, no doubt, has his or her knives sharpened to gut Madonna – mostly, I imagine – for being Madonna.

Many critics and maybe even the movie business at large are ready to pounce. In this day and age, when it’s harder and harder to finance a movie and next to impossible to get a movie directed by a woman off the ground, an easy target is someone who is as rich, famous and powerful as Madonna. Oh well, of course, they’ll all be saying (or at least thinking) – she got her movie made BECAUSE she’s rich, famous and powerful.

There’s a reason she’s rich, famous and powerful. She has exceptional style, savvy and talent.

Most of all, making a movie about Wallis and Edward and focusing on Wallis is – dare I say – something we’d ONLY see from a female director.

So it’s Madonna.

Why the fuck not?

She’s been the primary fuel behind an astounding career and one with considerable longevity – driven by a brilliant ability to artistically reinvent herself. With W.E. she not only reinvents herself as a filmmaker to be reckoned with, she does so with audacity and aplomb.

A few boneheads out there will probably attack the movie for being campy.

Is the movie campy?

You bet it is.

Since when can’t camp be art?

If anything, I wish the movie didn’t spin its wheels in its last ten-or-so minutes and I especially wish it didn’t resort to being so on-point in these final minutes about the consideration of Wallis Simpson’s point of view, and for that matter, a woman’s point of view. All of this was there in spades and didn’t need to be so emphatically, obviously reasserted.

That, however, is a minor quibble.

I might also add that only the style end of things, I am so delighted to say that the movie is replete with characters who smoke cigarettes. Watching good looking people smoking on the big screen is almost as pleasurable as smoking. When will people learn that smoking is cool - at least on celluloid.

Damn! W.E. is one of the most entertaining movies I've seen all year.

I feel like a virgin all over again.

"W.E." is out in a 3-Disc Blu-Ray/DVD/Digital combo pack via E-One and The Weinstein Company. Picture and sound have been transferred to impeccably render the theatrical experience and then some. Though the package has 3 different formats, the only extra is a paltry "Making of…" which plays like an extended EPK.

IN DARKNESS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Now on DVD and Blu-Ray Via Mongrel Media and Sony, Agnieszka Holland's Academy Award Nominated Polish-Canadian Co-production tells the harrowing tale of Jews hiding in the sewers of Lviv during World War II

In Darkness (2011)

dir. Agnieszka Holland

Starring:

Robert Wieckiewicz,
Benno Fürmann,
Michal Zurawski,
Kinga Preis,
Agnieszka Grochowska,
Maria Schrader,
Herbert Knaup

****

Review By
Greg Klymkiw


Whenever a new film about the Holocaust appears, the oft-heard refrain is, "Not another one!" It's as if the subject itself is enough to inspire such dismissive reactions - which, frankly, I've never understood. Genocide is one of the greatest blights upon mankind as a species and given the especially horrific events of the 20th century, stories such as In Darkness must be told.

Set in the Ukrainian city of Lviv during World War II, we're introduced to the Polish plumber and sewer-worker Leopold Socha (Robert Wieckiewicz) who supplements his livelihood during the Nazi occupation by thieving and black marketeering. A group of people in the Jewish ghetto have burrowed into the sewers in order to escape the impending horrors that await them. Socha happens upon the Jews and agrees to hide them beneath the old city where nobody will find them - for a price, of course.

A major payday awaits when Socha's old friend Bortnick (Michal Zurawski), a member of the Ukrainian SS, mentions the substantial reward available for pointing officials to Jews in hiding. Socha gets the bright idea of soaking his Jewish charges until their money runs out and THEN betraying them for the bounty.

War, however, has different effects upon different people. Some take the easy road, while others face up to who they really are and make sacrifices with their very lives.

Much of the film takes place in the dank, dark sewers of Lviv and we are privy to the horrendous conditions the Jews must live in order to survive. While we follow Socha's adventures above ground, life for the Jews is presented in clear juxtaposition.

Here is where David F. Shamoon's screenplay adaptation of Robert Marshall's book really shines. Given the number of characters, above and below ground that must be juggled, he presents a series of evocative portraits on both sides of the divide. Above ground, not everyone is a villain, whilst below ground, not everyone is a saint. The screenplay provides humanity with a layered dramatic resonance.

The fine script allows for a flawless cast to deliver a series of performances that will burn in your memory long after seeing the film. Holland's direction is precise and classical. She doesn't miss any dramatic beats and it's finally a movie that never lets up - it's compelling, surprising, shocking and finally, profoundly moving from beginning to end.

I have one major quibble, however. I will admit that it would probably not even be a problem if I was NOT of Ukrainian heritage, but luckily I am, because it allowed me to pinpoint a missing political element that might well have added an even deeper layer to this fine film.

Here's the problem, as I see it. The city of Lviv was, prior to the Nazis marching in, already an occupied city. Poland had claimed a huge portion of Western Ukraine as its own and parachuted (so to speak) huge numbers of Polish citizens to populate and run the city. Many Ukrainians were forced out and eventually settled in outlying areas of the Oblast. Being in the midst of researching my own family tree, I have discovered that a great many of my blood ancestors were driven out of Lviv by the Poles. Ironically, many of them formed their own village which also bore my surname. The village was subsequently destroyed by the Poles when they decided to build a dam and flood the whole village. From there, my ancestors split up and settled even further West in and around Ternopil.

I have to admit that in light of this research I was troubled that the script ignored the fact that this "Polish" city was, in fact, already an occupied city prior to the Nazis. I was further disturbed that the only Ukrainian character in the tale was portrayed as a vile Jew-hating pig who doesn't collaborate with the Nazis for the usual reasons Ukrainians collaborated (many were duped into believing the Nazis would be their liberators from both Polish and Russian oppression). These are issues of ethnocentric ignorance that are hurtful, but let's cast them aside for a moment and think about this otherwise compelling story if it had added the element of Poles being an occupying force to begin with who were, in turn occupied. From a narrative standpoint, I'd argue this might have made the piece far more interesting and added an additional layer of complexity to one in which the filmmakers do not present easy Hollywood-style answers to the dilemmas facing all the characters.

It's the fact that the screenplay so diligently creates drama and conflict by presenting a myriad of complexities within the characters that it disappoints me the film did not take the time or effort to explore this avenue also.

This will no doubt be seen as an easily dismissed and biased quibble, but the fact remains that World War II and the Holocaust are fraught with horrendous sufferings and issues that are not black and white.

Some biases, it seems, are acceptable, while others are not.

The bottom line though, is that it's a terrific film. That said, even great pictures have potential to be greater and I believe my "bias" might well have improved the tale considerably.

"In Darkness", 2011 Oscar nominee for Best Foreign Language Film is currently available on Blu-Ray and DVD via Mongrel Media. The transfer is especially exquisite - capturing every detail and the deep blacks. Though a commentary by a WWII history specialist and Holland seems kind of a no-brainer for a picture like this, no such additional featur exists. We have to suffice with a half hour video Q and A with Holland and a pretty interesting half hour video doc wherein Holland meets one of the actual survivors of the story.

THE VANISHING SPRING LIGHT: TALES OF WEST STREET - Review By Greg Klymkiw

The Vanishing Spring Light: Tales of West Street (2011) dir. Xun Yu "Fish" Starring: "Grandma" Jiang Su-Ha, Xiao Da Wan-Bi, Xiang Qian-Hong

****

Review By Greg Klymkiw

“How far we all come. How far we all come away from ourselves. So far, so much between, you can never go home again . . . it's good to go home, but you never really get all the way home again in your life . . . and once in a while, once in a long time, you remembered, and knew how far you were away, and it hit you hard enough, that little while it lasted, to break your heart.” - James Agee, A Death in the Family

Grandma Jiang is dying.

Wracked with pain after suffering a massive stroke, she lies in her bed, physically unable to assume her usual perch in front of the family home on her beloved West Street. This World Cultural Heritage Site in Dujiangyan (Southwest China) in the Sichuan Province near the site of an irrigation system that was a massive feat of ancient engineering, has housed generations upon generations of families who lived a simple, traditional life.

This is where Grandma Jiang lived for 50 of her 75 years.

In the time of her life, Grandma Jiang loved nothing more than passing endless days on the porch - smoking cigarettes, taking in the sights and sounds passing by this historic street that once served as the gateway to the Silk Road and sharing conversations with friends, neighbours and occasional visiting relatives. Her loyal daughter-in-law Xiao Da manages the mahjong parlour in the living room while her bumblingly good-natured son Xiang Qian drives cab, when not blind drunk, but often hung-over.

Though petty squabbles erupt amongst her daughters who live their own lives and almost grudgingly make efforts to visit and care for her, Grandma Jiang has, in the words of the Armenian-American writer William Saroyan, striven to "discover in all things, that which shines and is beyond corruption and encourage virtue in whatever heart it may have been driven into secrecy and sorrow by the shame and terror of the world".

But now, wrapped in blankets, looking like a living mummy (and still puffing on cigarettes), she is alone save for Xun Yu, the filmmaker who spent two years living with this family before taking an additional two years shooting the first of four documentaries about West Street and its gentrification (and by extension, the modernization of China).

"All I can hope for is a quick death," Grandma Joang tells Yu. "And after death? I guess I'm headed for the Afterlife. Where else can I go?"

In spite of the fact that it's about death, The Vanishing Spring Light: Tales of West Street is a celebration of life. Through the changing of the seasons, the increasing metamorphoses of West Street and the diminishing health of Grandma Jiang, Yu trains his eye upon the passage of existence. Simple, often beautifully composed shots in very long takes create a rhythm that is hypnotic and compelling.

This is a document in its purest and most poetic form. Yes, it is slow, but it is never boring. Yu allows his camera to capture all the pleasures, sorrows and intricacies of lives that are well, and in some cases, not-so-well lived. Through his caring and carefully placed lens we come to know and care for Grandma Jiang and those around her as if we were there ourselves.

This is one of the most staggering and profoundly moving documentaries I have seen in many years. In its own way, the film is as challenging as Pirjo Honkasalo's stunning exploration of the effects of the Chechen War The Three Rooms of Melancholia or Ulrich Seidl's almost unclassifiable, yet forceful Jesus, You Know or most profoundly, the late Frank Cole's masterwork of artful observation, A Life. Like those films, and even to an extent the works of Frederick Wiseman (though without his traditional lack or preparation), Yu lets life unfold as it most naturally does.

And just prior to her final death rattles, Grandma Jiang's eyes - forced by her position on the bed to look upwards, her gaze seeming to hug the infinite - she openly and alternately fears and welcomes death. She laments that she "didn't follow the teachings well", feeling now, more than ever. like "a would-be Buddhist". Though even as we hear her say this, we have clearly witnessed an individual who has lived life to its fullest and Yu's film shares this extraordinarily humanist event with us, as its subjects have shared their lives with him.

"I can only die the way I have lived," Grandma Jiang says before death.

And so it is, so it has been and so it will be for all of us.

Xan Yu's beautiful, elegiac and sometimes heart-breaking film is a testament to Grandma Jiang and all those who lived their lives as she did. As William Saroyan wrote: "In the time of your life, live — so that in that wondrous time, you shall not add to the misery and sorrow of the world, but shall smile to the infinite delight and mystery of it.”

"The Vanishing Spring Light: Tales of West Street" is currently in release via Kinosmith and in Toronto is playing at the Bloor Hot Docs Conema where the film's visionary Canadian producer and filmmaker Daniel Cross will be present for the screenings to discuss the making of the film. For showtimes and tickets, visit the website HERE.

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CANADIAN SHORT FILMS AT THE CANADIAN FILM FESTIVAL 2012 - Review By Greg Klymkiw

CANADIAN SHORT FILMS at CANADIAN FILM FEST 2012
Reviewed By Greg Klymkiw
The Canadian Film Fest 2012 at the Royal Theatre in Toronto is feature-heavy, but luckily, there are a number of shorts that will provide a nice glimpse into what several Canadian filmmakers can achieve with few dollars, tiny running times and scads of talent. Below are reviews of a few short films I had the opportunity to screen prior to the festival. Most of these will be screened in a short film program later today, Saturday, March 31 at 12:00pm. The following reviews are presented in alphabetical order. For tickets and further information visit the Festival website HERE.

Everybody Wing Chun Tonight (2011) dir. Karen Suzuki
Starring: Karen Suzuki, Mike Dufays, Kevin Robinson, Christopher Mott
**
By Greg Klymkiw
A group of sexist, misogynistic boneheads harass a woman verbally as she walks through the park. Little do they know she possesses the prowess of a highly skilled martial artist. It's one thing to fantasize about what she'd like to do to them, but is her true power in the knowledge that she could decimate them? Slight and didactic martial arts lesson makes its point - perhaps a bit too clearly.

Hangnail (2011) dir. Cavan Campbell
Starring: Tasha Lawrence, Dylan Scott Smith
****
By Greg Klymkiw
Shot completely in one take, this exquisitely written, acted and directed kitchen sink domestic drama examines a great divide between a couple in their bathroom. He's an immature video-game-and-porn-obsessed mall employee. She's a "dancer" in a "gentleman's club". He's taking a dump. She's taking a shower. Both of them are smoking cigarettes. The sniping is vicious, the pain is palpable. Love, however, finds itself in the strangest of places and in the most unusual circumstances. It's rare to find this level of maturity and dramatic resonance in short films these days when the emphasis in this medium is usually on one-note jokes and empty "calling card" endeavours. Hangnail takes us into the territory of despair among the disenfranchised. Though these characters live on the fringe and are often the types whose existence we'd prefer to repress, this evocative slice of their life is more universal than most will care to admit. Out of anguish can come incredible tenderness and compassion. This is a powerful work. It creates levels of complexity within a simple framework and I have to admit the film has continued to haunt me since first seeing it. I am especially eager to see more films from this clearly gifted filmmaker. He's the real thing.

Long Branch (2011) dir. Dane Clark, Linsey Stewart
Starring: Alex House, Jenny Raven, Al Maini
***1/2
By Greg Klymkiw
She wants a one-night stand. He's into it - bigtime. Her place is not an option. Luckily, his is. The problem, as it turns out, is that he lives two hours away via public transit. Subway. Bus. Bike. All in the frigid, snowy climes of a Canadian winter. She wants simple, fun, no-strings-attached sex. Two hours, however, leaves many opportunities for conversation. The last thing she wants is to get to know him. He's too nice. Like Willard's journey into the heart of darkness neither is quite sure what will be waiting for them in deepest, darkest suburbia. Hopefully, it won't be Col. Kurtz. Long Branch is a bright, breezy and thoroughly delightful romantic comedy. The dialogue is crisp, gorgeously performed by the two attractive leads, shot with clear, simple and direct compositions to let the magic and movement work within the frame so that every cut counts as a truly resonant dramatic beat. Though the soundtrack is peppered with far too many whiny, upbeat indie-styled songs for this curmudgeon's liking, most normal people - especially those who are not curmudgeons - will love it as much as everything else in the picture that truly deserves - uh, love.

My Loss Your Gain (2011) dir. Elli Raynai
Starring Chris Handfield
**1/2
By Greg Klymkiw
This Sci-fi-tinged one-hander is replete with cool retro-styled effects and an effectively odd obsessive quality. Take a lone scientist, a fly in a jar and imagination - the results can prove to be quite revelatory.

Onion Skin (2011) dir. Joseph Procopio
Starring: Zachary Peladeau, Vanessa Qualiara
***1/2
By Greg Klymkiw
Gorgeously photographed, well written tale of a young man who has a major crush on a beautiful young lady who is new to his high school. Instead of utilizing the contemporary communication techniques of text messaging and cel phones, he takes the time to craft a series of hand-written love letters. In our age of technologically convenient approaches to getting a message across, the young lady is initially flummoxed by this "odd" approach. Infused with heartfelt sentiment and romance, Procopio demonstrates a natural gift for creating images that are as beautiful as they are dramatically resonant. There isn't a single performance in the film that rings any less than true. All this said, there is a gorgeously acted and directed scene in the middle of the film that, from a writing standpoint provides a too convenient impetus for the young lady to discover and accept the approach of this wildly romantic suitor. It's a minor quibble, but given how terrific the film is, it's one of those elements that sticks out prominently. In time, however, I have no doubt Procopio will discover any number of narrative shorthands that will allow him to craft many more fine films that avoid the sorts of pitfalls that are ascribed in a knee-jerk fashion to young filmmakers, but are, in fact, quite prominent in any number of mainstream works made by people with far more experience and who should ultimately know better.

The Perfect Vacuum (2011) dir. Alana Cymerman
Starring: Natalie Choquette, Carl Alacchi, Pierre Lenoir, Géraldine Doucet
**
By Greg Klymkiw
Mona lives for her vacuum cleaner. She's lost her true passion and this normally inanimate object takes on a life of its own. At first she shares her perverse love with neighbours and suitors. However, in order to regain her lost passion, she abandons human contact to keep the dirt-sucking phallic symbol all to herself. Will this achieve the desired result or will tragedy strike? This slender, mildly amusing comedic musical vignette is clearly rooted in operatic and melodramatic tradition. Its visual compositions and art direction are both lovingly rendered with aplomb - resembling a curious amalgam of Frank Tashlin, Douglas Sirk and Arthur Freed. One, however, wishes the approach to the material had been less over-the-top. The material itself is already imbued with a bigger-than-life quality. Straighter playing of it might have brought out its richly and potentially hilarious perversities much more pointedly.

Sonata For Christian (2010) Dir. Stéphane Oystryk
Starring: Benjamin Beauchemain, Onalee Ames, Claire Thomas
**1/2
By Greg Klymkiw
A young lad in the leafy burbs of Winnipeg has the hots for his piano teacher. His Mom assumes he is lazily wanting to avoid going to his lessons. Nothing could be further from the truth. He fantasizes about a romantic tryst with the sexy neighbourhood keyboard instructor. This manifests itself in obsessive masturbatory shenanigans in his bedroom. If anything, he's terrified of acting on his amorous impulses. And what might be the result if she should respond? In spite of tentative performances and a script that doesn't quite deliver on its potential, there is clearly a strong talent here for visually rendering a narrative.

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THE UNLEASHED - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Almost Unwatchable Save For Oujia Hijinx

The Unleashed (2011) dir. Manuel H. Da Silva
Starring: Trisha Echeverria, Jessica Salgueiro, Caroline Williams, Malcolm McDowell

*1/2

By Greg Klymkiw

God knows, and those who know me as intimately as Our Lord, are well aware of the fact that I worship the horror genre with a fervour not unlike that of a fundamentalist Bible Thumper and/or dyed-in-the-wool Satanists. I especially enjoy tales of the paranormal and have been waiting patiently for a good movie that uses a Ouija board as more than a simple prop in a scene or two, but in fact, uses the board front and centre.

The Unleashed partially answered my prayers - the movie has mega-Ouija Board action. Alas, the picture is barely watchable. It's too bad. Buried deep within the endless 108-minute running time is the framework for a decent genre effort within the script itself. Unfortunately, someone needed to take an axe to much of the screenplay before the film was shot and most importantly, a decent script editor, or even someone with something resembling taste, might have been able to excise a lot of the dumb dialogue and the endless yapping that doesn't really serve the plot and feels like filler. Even if the script had been shot as written, a good producer and editor might have been able to rescue this plodding would-be thriller in post-production.

The movie begins in a so-far-so-good manner. With a tone of creepy portent over the opening titles, we hear the familiar voice of Malcolm McDowell (A Clockwork Orange, O Lucky Man, Time After Time) as he narrates the following:

Along with the modern spiritual movement, there came a widespread interest in communications with the dead. The talking board is yet another tool to inspire hope that a world beyond our own can be reached. The question is this: Are the dead taunting the living or is the living taunting the dead?

Well, Malcolm, I've gotta say (after seeing the whole movie), the REAL question is this: Given that the above is the sum total of your involvement in this picture, were you paid by the hour, the day or the word? There are 52 words. If I had been your agent, I'd have negotiated the rate based on that, but I'm not, so it's a moot point.

In fairness to the producers of the film, McDowell's name does not appear on the film's poster, but much of the hype surrounding the premiere of The Unleashed at the Canadian Film Fest in Toronto was the appearance of everyone's favourite Droog at the red carpet screening.

Given that I personally try to know as little about a movie as possible before I see it, I was super-pumped. All I knew was that I'd be seeing a new low budget Canuck horror feature with a great poster AND the participation of Malcolm McDowell. What kept drifting through my mind as I watched the movie was this? When's Malcolm McDowell showing up? He doesn't. Now you know, so if you see the movie when it opens theatrically, don't bother giving his involvement a moment's thought - just let the picture work its magic.

That said, the movie has virtually no magic - certainly none of the cinematic kind. After Malcolm's narration, we get a decent seance scene set in the late 1800s involving an old crone using a Ouija Board. Decent carnage occurs and we flash forward to the present. We're clumsily introduced to the lead characters - a babe-o-licious woman who's been away from home for eight years and has returned after her Mother dies to deal with the estate, her babe-o-licious best friend from days gone by and a babe-o-licious professor of paranormal studies who is holding a series of lectures at the local secondary school. (Gee, I sure wish I had gone to a secondary school like that!)

So far, so good.

When the returning daughter's friend offers to stay with her in the family house (which, by the way, is haunted), I'm at this point thinking - "Good deal!" I did some quick math: Ouija Boards, carnage, ghosts, haunted house, babes and Sappho-action. Yee-haa! The latter, alas, does not occur (though there is one scene with the two babes in bed, but they're fully clothed and clearly have not been indulging in any forbidden nectar.)

Even worse is the fact that it took the picture 35 or so minutes to give me a tiny shiver of fright. As the film proceeds there were three or four minor jolts, many half-hearted (though nobly-intended) attempts at atmospheric horror, a few decent special effects, unexciting but certainly competent cinematography and a handful of good performances - all of which were elicited by the female actors. (The male actors in the movie are either dull and competent or just plain godawful.)

The movie throws out a couple of plot twists and surprises, but they're the sort that had me thinking early in the movie: "Oh God, I hope they're not going to , , ," And Yup, they do. I saw the ending coming far too early in the proceedings. (Even my 11-year-old daughter, who, by the way, really loved the movie, was bummed out by the ending.) Knowing where a picture will end up doesn't have to ruin it if the ride is worthwhile, but The Unleashed is not The Zipper, but rather, a merry-go-round that keeps stopping and starting.

"The Unleashed" is the Friday night red-carpet gala at this year's Canadian Film Fest running March 28-31 at the Royal Theatre in Toronto. For more information, visit the festival's website HERE.

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SERVITUDE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Vomit, Fart, Homo, White Trash, Nazi & other jokes

Servitude (2012) dir. Warren P. Sonoda
Starring: Joe Dinicol, Dave Foley, Margot Kidder, Jayne Eastwood, Wayne Robson, John Bregar, Rachel Skarsten, Kristin Hager, Linda Kash, Enrico Colantoni, Aaron Ashmore

***

By Greg Klymkiw

I am the world's biggest apologist for Adam Sandler and Tom Greene. While I won't dare declare that Jack and Jill or Road Trip were even remotely good, I will admit they both made me laugh several times. That said, I will proudly proclaim that You Don't Mess With The Zohan is genuinely terrific and that Freddy Got Fingered is a bonafide, utterly brilliant masterpiece.

Though perhaps questionable to a few pole-up-the-ass types, my taste in such matters is lofty enough that I believe it deserves a pedestal-like status. For example, while there is not a single Harold and Kumar movie I didn't like, I had the necessary acumen to declare The Hangover Part II as one of the most embarrassing, disgraceful, unfunny comedies I've ever seen.

If you go to see Servitude, you will be the judge of my critical reason.

You'll probably also have a good time.

So, let's do the math on Servitude.

Vomit jokes.

Fart jokes.

Homo jokes.

White Trash jokes.

Nazi jokes.

Babes (multiplied by three, though one of them is a mega-babe).

A goodly number of cute and/or hunky (and funny) stud-muffins.

A grotesquely hilarious Margot Kidder with (I hope) mega-Botox makeup.

Kids in the Hall's Dave (Always Funny) Foley.

Jeigh Madjus as the funniest mincingly delicious faggot in Canadian Cinema.

Jayne Eastwood (Canada's Phyllis Diller, but way better looking and funnier).

Wayne Robson (Canada's estimable answer to Wally Cox).

A fetish I've not seen extolled in a comedy of recent vintage - one that makes the attributes of Stifler's Mom in the American Pie franchise utterly old hat.

A variety of amusing non-vomit-fart-homo-WhiteTrash-Nazi-fetish jokes.

Oh, and babes.

Have I mentioned them yet?

The babes?

So, what do these figures all add up to?

Well okay, so we're not talking the most sophisticated comedy of the year, here, but we are talking about a decent low-brow, low-budget Canadian-made knee-slapper involving a rag-tag band of restaurant workers who find out that a Nazi - oops, I mean, German - corporation is taking over their place of employment and will probably fire the lot of them.

In retaliation they spend the rest of the night turning the tables on all their rude, obnoxious customers - the annoying old couple, the family of inbreds, the table of vile preppies - a veritable cornucopia of every jerk that every server has ever wanted to decimate.

Even when revenge does not involve a hobo with a shotgun, it proves to be decidedly sweet.

The leader of this revolt is Josh Stein (Joe Dinicol), a sweet, young lad who has been toiling for three years at The Ranch Steakhouse, part of a chain of family bistros where all the servers are referred to as "Ranchers" and the cowboy-hat-adorned manager Godfrey (Dave Foley) is as genial as he is perpetually harried. Josh has agreed to this life of servitude in deference to his Dad who wants sonny-boy to get some real-world experience before he pulls out the chequebook to put Josh through Law School.

Funny thing is, though - Josh kind of likes his job. His social climbing girlfriend (Kristin Hager), however, can hardly wait until he turns in his order pad to dive into the soul-sucking world of law. God knows, it's humiliating enough to have to explain to her equally success-oriented friends that her boyfriend is a waiter, but the thought that he actually enjoys what he does simply mortifies her.

On this good night, two people enter Josh's life that will change it forever.

The first is the Nazi - oops, I mean, German - auditor from the corporation. During his inspection, Franz (Enrico Colantoni) declares that changes will be in order. Passing around the corporation handbook (emblazoned with a prominent Swastika-like logo), Franz is especially eager to examine the ovens.

The second potential life-changing personage who waltzes into Josh's sphere is a new waitress trainee whom he is asked to coach. Alex (Rachel Skarsten) is a babe. No, let me re-phrase that - she is a MEGA-BABE. She's also funny, friendly, charming, smart and unpretentious - everything his emasculating girlfriend isn't.

Hell is just around the corner from breaking loose.

Servitude is just plain fun. Granted, it occasionally feels like a glorified feature length pilot for a sitcom (albeit a naughty one), but in spite of this, the proceedings are deftly directed by Warren P. Sonoda who wisely understands that the best comedy is played, Howard Hawks-like, in simple two-shots and mediums with a minimum of unnecessary cutting. He also understands when and how to move the camera and when he does, he dazzles us with a few Scorsese-inspired dipsy-doodle steadicam and dolly zingers (courtesy, no doubt, to cinematographer Samy Inayeh).

At times, some of the movie feels a trifle shrill in terms of performance and a handful of scenes tend to drag on a bit long, but for the most part, the picture delivers the goods required of its entertaining lowly station.

Another fun element of the film is its production design. Given that most of the picture is set in the steakhouse, there's always something cool to look at during the film's occasional longueurs. Art Director Diana Abbatangelo delivers a restaurant that looks real and lived-in; from the tacky dining room - blending every western-themed cliche known to the human race - the grotesque kitchen (with its filthy, blackened oven that the Nazi - oops, I mean, German - is obsessed with), the packed-to-the-rafters storage rooms and Godfrey's grungy office - all have the whiff of reality and imaginative touches of humour.

An element in the film that is of supreme importance to the art of cinema is its emphasis upon several actions involving Josh's best buddy, fellow server Tommy (John Bregar). Few low-brow comedies would take the opportunity to examine elements of contemporary anthropological significance as is done here. The filmmakers have truly put themselves on the line to go the extra distance required to not simply deliver laughs, but plunge us, almost Robert Bresson-like into a semi-neo-realist exploration of the human condition.

Tommy is, first of all, a master of the "cuppie" - a unique physical action involving the cupping of one's hand over one's anus, releasing a rank fart and immediately cupping said cupped hand over the nostrils of an unsuspecting recipient of the delectable aroma. Secondly, we are witness (a la Bresson) to Tommy's obsessive fetish involving MILFS with rounded, squeezable bellies that have not been liposuction-ed of all their glorious fat content.

This, of course is where Margot Kidder comes in. Hubba-Hubba!!!

Fetishists take note!!!

Servitude is a fun, good-natured youth comedy. It doesn't quite ascend (or descend, depending upon how you look at these things) to the heights/depths of American gross-out comedies - it's a wee bit too Canadian to go there - but when the completely nutzoid gags come, the movie inspires more than its fair share of belly laughs.

God knows, Margot Kidder's belly inspires some of the film's most aggressive yuk-yuk-grabbers. (Damn, she's a good sport in this one! Hats off to her!) Lois Lane with Botox and a Belly is a sight to behold.

Speaking of sights to behold, Servitude might also be of considerable interest to Canadian filmmakers. The first credit that blasts upon the silver screen when the movie ends is that it was developed with the assistance of the esteemed Telefilm Canada Features Comedy Lab. An official Telefilm Canada release on their website dated 2010/11/03 tub-thumps this program from the esteemed Canadian Film Centre (founded by Norman Jewison) in collaboration with the Just For Laughs Festival in Montreal. Projects accepted to the program become eligible for up to $75,000 in development funding through the Canada Feature Film Fund. According to Telefilm's "what's new" bumph:

Successful inaugural year

As a result of last year’s program, Servitude will go into production later this month.

Through last year’s program, the workplace-revenge comedy from Buck Productions and Victory Man Productions (participants in 2009) received assistance by such Hollywood heavyweights as producer Ivan Reitman, director Donald Petrie, screenwriter Etan Cohen and Gloria Fan of Mosaic Media.

It appears that the applications are closed for the program, but keep your eyes and ears peeled. If and when the next application deadline rolls around, anyone who has a feature screenplay with vomit-fart-homo-WhiteTrash-Nazi-fetish jokes and/or non-vomit-fart-homo-WhiteTrash-Nazi-fetish jokes, the Gouvernement du Canada via Telefilm Canada and the Canadian Film Centre are clearly your go-to guys.

Comedian Yakov Smirnoff was often astounded with the freedoms in America with his oft-repeated line, "What a country!" Perhaps the Gouvernement du Canada needs to enlist Smirnoff's services to promote its liberal support of films featuring vomit-fart-homo-WhiteTrash-Nazi-fetish jokes and/or non-vomit-fart-homo-WhiteTrash-Nazi-fetish jokes.

In the meantime, anyone in Canada who enjoys solid laughs should probably hightail it down to their multiplex and see Servitude.

Oh, and full disclosure is necessary: I was kicking around the Canadian Film Centre for 13 years in a number of capacities (as you can plainly read on my biography pasted onto this site), but I had had absolutely nothing to do with the aforementioned Comedy program. Though a blood relative at the Canadian Film Centre had quite a bit to do with the program, he started at that esteemed joint long after I was there and never talked to me about what he was doing behind the scenes.

All we ever really discussed were the best places to get kishka and garlic sausage.

"Servitude" opens March 30 in Toronto and Vancouver via Alliance Films.

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THE GUANTANAMO TRAP - Review By Greg Klymkiw - The REAL America is DEAD!

The Guantanamo Trap (2011) dir. Thomas Sellim Wallner
Starring: Murat Kurnaz, Diane Beaver, Matthew Diaz, Gonzalo Boye

****

By Greg Klymkiw

“Inverted totalitarianism, unlike classical totalitarianism, does not revolve around a demagogue or charismatic leader. It finds expression in the anonymity of the Corporate State. It purports to cherish democracy, patriotism, and the Constitution while manipulating internal levers.” - Chris Hedges, Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle

America - the real America as promised in its constitution, as exemplified in its (mostly) great people and in the vision of Abraham Lincoln to build an economically powerful empire within its borders (thus rejecting the insane expansionism of Manifest Destiny) and to tirelessly serve the world as a genuine defender of the tenets of democratic human rights - that America is dead.

Currently operating as one of the most corrupt oligarchies in the world, insanely going to war under the guise of Lincoln's great dream but in reality enhancing the economic power of the rich, America has duped millions of its own citizens and both foreign and domestic lenders out of billions of dollars - sending the world into a major economic crisis. The America that now exists has reduced the majority of its populace to an existence of poverty and near-Third World conditions while spending billions on a false war on terrorism.

The cherry on the American Empire's ice cream sundae of Decline is the illegal kidnapping of (mostly) innocent people all over the world. Their subsequent incarceration on Guantanamo includes being held without formal charges, hearings or trials for years and being tortured in order to spill their guts about spurious accusations of terrorist activities.

Yes, tortured.

We all know it. The powers-that-be know it. The victims certainly know it. Alas, the paid pawns of the mainstream media, who also know it, continue to go out of their way to defend the actions of this democratic dictatorship which is ruled by the Christian Right Wing in tandem with the corporate powers who really run America.

Even those on the left betrayed their ideals, reverting, when the going got too tough to the self-preservation and/or nest-feathering their right-wing foes engaged in. A perfect example of this is noted human rights lawyer Barbara Olshansky. She was working for the nonprofit Centre For Constitutional Rights (CFCR) who were suing the government of the United States to acquire the list of all the prisoners (America calls them "detainees") at Guantanamo. Though the U.S. Supreme Court officially ruled that Guantanamo's prisoners were legally allowed to challenge their imprisonment, their potential chief advocates needed to know who they actually were. The military refused to divulge this information; hence, the lawsuit.

At one point, Olshansky met one Lt. Cmdr. Matthew Diaz, a Navy lawyer at Guantanamo. He was quite moved by her pleas for the list of prisoners. He finally made the personal decision to furnish these names. He sent them to her in an envelope, the list tucked inside a Valentine card to avoid detection. Receiving this package, she immediately suspected it was a hoax at best, and at worst, a classified document that might potentially compromise American security and safety.

Hello, babe! This is what you were whining for.

Even more horrendous is that Diaz extracted the information from his Guantanamo computer and was himself shocked to find that the documents were not marked classified. Olshansky herself testified that these documents were not marked as classified, so to this day it makes no sense why she suspected they might be.

Instead of using the lists to further her worthy cause, she decided to inform the trial judge that she had them in her possession and then boneheaded-ly allowed a minion from Homeland Security to pick them up. It didn't take long for the FBI and the Justice Department to track the list back to Diaz. Olshansky betrayed her ally - she refused to acknowledge she had ever met or spoken with Diaz and other than her relatively inconsequential testimony at Diaz's trial, she has avoided addressing the matter publicly.

Diaz, of course, was branded a traitor, stripped of his military credentials, his law credentials and served a surprisingly lenient 6-months in prison.

Matthew Diaz is one of four subjects examined in The Guantanamo Trap. Thomas Sellim Wallner's feature length documentary presents a tragic portrait of people caught in the web of Guantanamo's literal and symbolic evil. Diaz's story is especially affecting. This is a young man who lived for the military. It was his way out of a world of uncertainty and where he used his time there to make a living, gain an education and eventually a law degree.

We follow his story, including the aforementioned Olshansky Valentine betrayal, right up to the present where he has no qualifications to do any other work than which he's no longer allowed to pursue. He has no benefits, no pension, a criminal record and a military dismissal which, in spite of his intelligence and experience, presents a formidable hurdle in acquiring the most basic employment. Adding insult to injury, his family home in which his daughter lives has a foreclosure order against it.

Olshansky, on the other hand, continues quite comfortably with her life - writing books, accepting speaking engagements wherein she crows on about human rights abuses and, of course, holds numerous prestigious academic positions.

Diaz tried to do the right thing. He lost his whole life. Olshansky, on the other hand, maintained her nicely feathered nest. She also repeatedly ignored requests from the filmmakers of The Guantanamo Trap to present her side of the story in the film.

No need, one supposes, to tarnish one's comfy position as an - ahem - well-heeled lefty.

What finally makes The Guantanamo Trap both infuriating and almost unbearably sad is that it's ultimately a story of betrayal. The other individuals whose stories we follow were as screwed over by getting caught in Guantanamo's net as poor Diaz.

Murat Kurnaz, a German of Turkish descent was arrested by police in Pakistan and sold to the Americans for a healthy bounty.

A bounty!!!

He was imprisoned in both Afghanistan and eventually in an outdoor cage in Guantanamo - where he was physically and psychologically tortured for five years.

Diane Beaver served as a military lawyer at Guantanamo and wrote a legal memo which supported the use of "enhanced" interrogation techniques. When you see the film, you can be your own judge, but they sure sound like torture to me - in spite of her protestations to the contrary. Though there's no question that she was an integral part of Guantanamo's evil, her orders were to generate a legal opinion on what forms of interrogation could be used.

Beaver, of course, was betrayed by her own government. Not a single entity in authority - all of whom had to provide approvals - did not actually have their names linked to said approvals. Beaver's name is the only official name attached to any document advocating physical and psychological torture. Beaver was hung out to dry as a patsy by the government she continues to declare her loyalty to.

Now a civilian, Beaver is haunted by her legacy and tries to carve out a new life.

Gonzalo Boye is a criminal prosecution lawyer in Spain who is spearheading charges against the Bush administration for illegal incarceration and various war crimes (that include torture). Boye himself was a victim of wrongful incarceration and torture in his home country. During his harrowing fourteen years in prison, he studied to become a lawyer. And now, one of his chief targets is Diane Beaver and his star witness is Murat Kurnaz.

Director Wallner presents these stories with a considerable degree of detachment - he lets the individuals guide their own narratives, and in so doing, the dramatic thrust of the film. As such, the most fascinating revelation - at least for me - is how organized, man-made religion is a driving force for both Kurnaz and Beaver. Kurnaz continually displays his devout Muslim beliefs by refusing to shake hands with women or making a point of avoiding certain foods and/or libations. Beaver mentions, not just once, but twice (and emphatically to boot) that everything happening to her is part of "God's plan".

In "War Is a Force that Gives Us Meaning", Chris Hedges notes that the “moral certitude of the state in wartime is a kind of fundamentalism. And this dangerous messianic brand of religion, one where self-doubt is minimal, has come increasingly to color the modern world of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.” Beaver has no self doubt at all with respect to her place in America's "War on Terror" and her own "fundamentalism" is rooted in "God's Plan" - not her own self-will, nor that employed by those who betrayed her. Kurnaz, too, uses his religion to justify his own sexism, potential misogyny and veiled racism.

It's like we're amidst the Crusades - Christians fighting the infidel (and vice-versa) for goals that are lofty and inextricably linked to God or as Hedges notes in "American Fascists: The Christian Right and the War On America" that those who are "numbed by isolation and despair, now seek meaning in a mythical world of intuition, a world that is no longer reality-based, a world of magic.”

Fairy tales, it seems, are at the root of this insanity.

And much as Beaver and others justify what they must do to protect America, Hedges simply and astutely points out that war makes no sense - certainly not in a Christian context since "Jesus was a pacifist."

Wallner has crafted an eminently fascinating and moving film. He was inspired to make it when he was placed on America's terror watch list for five years when he refused to take part in a retinal scan. His shock and anger was so considerable that the impetus was initially vengeance. As he proceeded, he realized he needed to strip away his voice as much as he could in order to present the effects of war upon humanity.

Much as I respect and admire this decision and as terrific as his film is because of it, there is a part of me that wonders about the same film within the context of its maker's art becoming an act of revenge. I try to imagine that film and when I do, I think it might have been equally worthy and certainly just as powerful.

That said, Wallner delivers a picture that stands powerfully on its own two feet as one of the great humanist documentaries of the new millennium.

"The Guantanamo Trap" is now playing in Toronto at the Hot Docs Bloor Cinema via Kinomith. For tickets and showtimes, visit HERE.

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50/50 - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Poignant cancer comedy blessed with great screenplay.

50/50 (2011) ****
dir. Jonathan Levine
Starring: Joseph Gordon-Leavitt, Seth Rogen, Anna Kendrick, Bryce Dallas Howard, Anjelica Huston, Phillip Baker Hall

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I hate cancer. Who doesn't? It kills friends and family and before they're dead it tears them apart physically and mentally. The pain is, for those who've never been afflicted, unimaginable - though I often recall the worst pain I've ever suffered (in my case, kidney stones) and magnify it several thousand times. The thought of that is, frankly, sickening.

Even the process of successfully battling cancer is painful and debilitating. With all the technological and medical advancements, there is no real perfect cure. I must speak plainly on that front and assert: That's just completely fucking stupid!

Fuck you, cancer. Fuck you!

50/50 is a comedy about cancer. The incongruity of this might seem off-putting, but the fact remains that with any illness - no matter how deadly (or not), humour is - in my humble opinion - the best medicine. Furthermore, there is much to be said, on an aesthetic level, for rendering the drama of illness - especially cancer - WITH humour. 50/50 does so with utter perfection. It's the laughs, the human comedy, the on-screen knee-slappers that are the very elements which render the drama with so much poignancy and yes, pain.

This might well be one of the best comedies of the new Millennium. Time will ultimately be the true judge of this proclamation, but for now, it's sure feeling like it's going to be right up there.

Adam (Joseph Gordon-Leavitt) is a public radio reporter with talent, commitment and a bright future. When he is diagnosed with cancer - a virulent strain in which his odds of living are the 50/50 of the title - his life quickly unravels. His beautiful, but self-absorbed girlfriend Rachel (Bryce Dallas Howard) is completely unable and unwilling to assist with the debilitating effects of the aggressive treatment needed - in spite of her insistence that she is more than up to it. She is, in fact, the biggest problem facing his mental health and well being. This involves having an affair behind his back - with, I might add, a major fucking loser.

Now before you get the impression this is a total downer, allow me to say two words:

SETH ROGEN!!!!!

One of the best young actors in the business, Rogen plays Adam's mega-pot-ingesting ('natch) best buddy Kyle. He offers friendship, company, support, endless laughs (for Adam, but by extension, the audience) and dope (a most convenient painkiller for cancer victims anyway). A slimmed-down Rogen has not meant any less hilarity. His goofy charm and one-liners continue to offer-up belly-laughs of such intensity that the resulting effect upon audiences (as they were with me) might well be severe abdominal cramps.

Bring on the cramps, baby! Seth, you rock my world!

There's also a terrific performance from the almost criminally cute and mouth-wateringly delightful Anna Kendrick as Katie, Adam's hospital social worker. Needless to say, romance brews with these two. Anjelica Huston as Adam's loving, smothering Mom is funny and moving as is the great character actor Phillip Baker Hall as one of Adam's fellow cancer-sufferers.

One of the great things about Will Reiser's semi-autobiographical and superbly structured screenplay is that it doesn't only deliver the requisite laughs and tears, but it never feels like it's hitting the kind of false, overwrought notes so many contemporary comedies are saddled with. The humour is natural and comes with ease from both character and situation. We get all the clinical detail of Adam's treatment and while it always seems rooted in reality, it doesn't get in the way of the picture's humanity, but adds to it.

Humanity, especially in a movie about cancer, is clearly a necessity. However, the movie never feels overtly dour and/or tear-jerking and I loved the way it even exposes flaws and foibles in Adam's character. For example, his "vengeance" upon the philandering girlfriend is genuinely mean-spirited. Yes, it feels somewhat justifiable, but at the same time, the character's treatment of her (no matter what SHE has done to him) exposes more than a hint that he's not some flawless, doomed, Camille-type, but has it in him to be a major prick. Yes, even cancer victims can be pricks. Welcome to the world, folks!

This is all achieved in good measure due to Jonathan (All the Boys Love Mandy Lane) Levine's exquisite direction. It's not show-offy in any way, shape or form, but covers the excellent written material with the assured hand of an old pro. That said, Levine's only in his thirties and this is his third feature film. One can only wonder what the kid's going to generate when he actually IS "old".

The bottom line on this picture is thus: If you let the cancer theme scare you away from rushing out to seeing it - don't. 50/50 is infused with laughs, love and hope.

These are good things!

50/50 received its official unveiling at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2011) and is currently available on DVD and Blu-Ray

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