MY SCIENTOLOGY MOVIE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - "Act of Killing - Lite" on Scientology

Louis Theroux - Brit Michael Moore sans Bulk.

My Scientology Movie (2016)
Dir. John Dower
Scr. Louis Theroux
Prd. Simon Chinn
Starring: Louis Theroux, Mark Rathbun, Andrew Perez, Jeff Hawkins

Review By Greg Klymkiw

"One of the systems of faith that are based on the belief in the existence of a particular god or gods, or in the teachings of a spiritual leader."
- The Oxford Dictionary definition of the word "religion"

Founded by the dreadful and prolific Science Fiction pulp writer L. Ron Hubbard and presided over by the enigmatic David Miscavige since Hubbard's death in 1986, the Church of Scientology has taken more than its fair share of volleys over the years, including the brilliant fictionalized fantasia The Master by PT Anderson and Alex Gibney's searing documentary Going Clear.

Examining the aforementioned Oxford definition of the word religion, in addition to the various film exposes, including My Scientology Movie, I really do have to wonder what finally separates Scientology from any other religion, whether it be Catholicism, Christian Fundamentalism, Judaism, Islam and any other major/minor systems of faith. Scientology, like all the rest, feels it is the best religion, places emphasis upon recruitment, needs to survive upon financial support from its followers and is not without cult-like leaders and/or elements of cultish indoctrination.

With My Scientology Movie, Director John Dower, Producer Simon Chinn, Host/Star/Writer Louis Theroux and chief commissioning entity, the BBC, were obviously denied access to the inner workings of Scientology and have taken their cue from the in-your-face (and decidedly entertaining) shenanigans of Michael (Roger and Me) Moore and the extremely visionary film artist Joshua Oppenheimer (The Act of Killing, The Look of Violence), to craft this lightweight, often amusing, occasionally chilling bit of shock journalism.

To the former, Theroux blunders about Los Angeles in his oh-so-Blighty fashion on the outskirts of various Scientology headquarters and to the latter, orders up auditions with young actors to play Scientology types in scripted and improvised recreations of speeches, presentations and alleged actual inner workings of the Church.

Young actors portray Scientology officials in recreations.

Host Theroux is accompanied through most of the film's cheeky gymnastics by former high-ranking Scientologist Mark Rathburn who left the Church, exposed its inner workings and was, not surprisingly, discredited by the Church itself. Via Rathburn, we get a sense of his own experiences within the organization and an even greater sense of how his life has become severely beleaguered since his break from Scientology. He comes across, probably to the chagrin of the Church, as an extremely sympathetic figure. Much of our empathy for him, however, comes more from Theroux's annoying and eventually badgering of Rathburn, attempting to get the man to respond to his own "complicity" in events and actions of the past.

One cannot fault Theroux for being a journalist, but one can certainly question his methods in the film, especially as they relate to Rathburn. Firstly, the movie inadvertently exposes how investigative journalists will try to be "friends" with their subjects in order to get what they want out of them. If My Scientology Movie was a film, as opposed to what it is, little more than reasonably watchable TV-style doc-journalism, this fascinating aspect of what makes investigative journalists do their job, might have elevated the proceedings considerably if it had been less (and seemingly) inadvertent.

Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, Theroux's timing and methods to address Rathburn's "complicity" in the actions of the Church, seem so fumbling and wrong-headed that we can't help but feel for the former Scientology big-wig. At one point Theroux, in a somewhat smarmy and definitely clumsy fashion, uses information and points-of-view from letters he's received from the Church's lawyers to needle Rathburn. This not only pisses Rathburn off, but us as well.

Granted, Theroux interviews another former Church official Jeff Hawkins, who not only adds considerable insights to the proceedings, but states unequivocally that he believes Rathburn has been hiding more than a few skeletons in the Scientology Closet. As a journalist, Theroux is bound to act on this. That's the theory - the practice, however, is something else altogether and backfires on him. This kind of recoil is what will give the Church of Scientology considerable ammunition to discredit the movie itself.

I couldn't really blame them.

Andrew Perez as David Miscavige - Star Turn!!!

The film as journalism barely gets a passing grade. As a film, it registers a "gentlemanly" grade of "B". This is no work of artistry, voice and vision (like, say, Joshua Oppenheimer's great, important films). Still, My Scientology Movie gets points of the old-college-try variety for its dramatic reenactments - not because they're especially good, but because the actor they've chosen to play Scientology's topper David Miscavige, Andrew Perez, is undeniably charismatic and rivetingly scary.

His recreations of public Miscavige speeches go well beyond simple Rich Little-like impersonations, he genuinely creates a "character" of considerable human dimension. In the fictionalized dramatic recreations of the Church's inner workings, Perez dazzles so astoundingly that one wonders why he's not already on the road to the same kind of superstardom that celebrity Scientology church-member Tom Cruise is on. Perez is clearly a great actor. The camera loves him and I think audiences would love to see him in more movies (as opposed to what seems to be his only role since making this movie, a bit part in some TV show).

Hell, if Miscavige ever chose to produce his own approved biopic of himself, he'd be well advised to sign up Perez for the role. The kid exudes power and charisma, and that's what Miscavige has in spades.

This is not a bad picture by any means. It has elements that do provide considerable entertainment value. At times, the movie even flirts with Oppenheimer potential. There are a few sequences where Theroux is filming Scientology types as they are filming him in turn. These duelling cameras moments come close to capturing the kind of picture this could have been, if it had been a real movie made by real artists - not just another glorified TV documentary.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** Three Stars


My Scientology Movie is a Kinosmith release. Canadian playdates include:
February 6 & 8 Victoria Film Festival, Victoria, BC
February 17 – 23 Hot Docs Ted Rogers Cinema, Toronto, ON
February 24 – March 2 Globe Cinema, Calgary, AB
March 3 – 5 Salt Spring Film Festival, Salt Spring, BC
April 14 – 18 Bytowne, Ottawa, ON

SHE WHO MUST BURN - Review By Greg Klymkiw - 2015 Blood in the Snow Film Festival

She Who Must Burn (2014)
Dir. Larry Kent
Scr. Shane Twerdun & Kent
Starring: Sarah Smyth, Shane Twerdun, Missy Cross, Jewel Staite, Andrew Dunbar

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Seventy-eight-year-old Larry Kent's She Who Must Burn is such a great picture on so many levels that I'm compelled to occasionally pinch myself to see if I dreamed its very existence. It was no dream. In all its greatness, it most certainly does exist. If there is any dream fulfillment here, it's one I long to experience with every movie I see, but these days, seldom do. For me, it's one of the best movies of 2015 and certainly one of the best of the new millennium. It gloriously infused me with the kind of rhapsodic gooseflesh I experienced earlier this year while watching 70-year-old George Miller's Mad Max: Fury Road.

Not only is Kent's work representative of filmmaking at the highest levels of proficiency and artistry, but it's proof positive that we must never forget that our senior filmmakers often have it in them to knock it out of the park in ways that the young turks everyone seems happy to bestow accolades upon can ultimately only dream about.

Most notably, it's a film that's as current as it is prescient - a film that reflects the madness of contemporary religious fundamentalism in a manner so beyond the ephemeral that it represents a work that will only gain in importance whilst eventually reaching its own august years and beyond.

She Who Must Burn is, without question, a masterpiece.

With the recent events in Colorado Springs on Friday, November 27, 2015 - a whack-job's gruelling siege at a Planned Parenthood clinic in which he murdered three people and wounded nine - Kent's picture is almost beyond topical. It sadly and chillingly reflects the reality of Christian zealots who ultimately, exhibit absolutely none of what it means to be Christian. (And let's not just crap on Christians, but all organized religions worldwide.)

The state of Colorado has been home to some of the most heinous mass-slayings in recent American history (Columbine, Aurora and now Colorado Springs.) Robert L. Dear Jr. is the waste of breathing air who perpetrated his domestic terrorism, in the name of the Lord, no less, upon those who would dare advocate planned parenthood. Even scarier is America's seemingly endless history of violence against similar individuals and institutions.

She Who Must Burn is a relentless, savage and terrifying thriller - a genuine horror film for the ages - true horror.

Angela (Sarah Smyth) voluntarily runs a counselling service out of the home she shares with her husband Mac (Andrew Moxham), a deputy sherif in a small midwestern American Bible Belt community. The local planned parenthood clinic she'd been running had its funding cut by the State after considerable pressure from the Religious Right.

Angela's continued support for women in the community concerns Mac's boss, The Sherrif (Jim Francis), even though he's well aware of the nefarious work of the local pastor Jeremiah Baarker (a chilling, oily Shane Twerdun who is also director Kent's co-writer). Jeremiah's entire family (and parish) is insanely devoted to stamping out the "evils" of birth control and abortion. His father Abraham Baarker (James Wilson) already languishes in prison for killing a doctor at point blank range, his sister Rebecca (Missy Cross) continues to do the dirty work behind the scenes as it needs to be done and constantly attempts to get her pussy-whipped hubby Caleb (Andrew Dunbar) to begin pulling his weight as a "soldier" of Christ.

The entire parish rallies behind the sleazy slime bucket Jeremiah and takes part in endless protests and harassment of Angela's commitment to the health and well being of the town's most vulnerable. These "Christians" are happy to break any man-made law to fulfill their own perverted interpretations of "God's Law" and increasingly display irrational behaviour in their war against "baby killers".

False accusations, physical assaults and murder is not far behind.

The film is relentlessly terrifying. As over-the-top as the Christian psychos are, what's scary is how the behaviour is tolerated by both law enforcement and state legislators. Kent's film mounts in jaw-dropping horror and no matter how extreme things get, they never let up. Evil infuses the work of "the Lord" and builds to a savage, sickening climax and denouement.

Intelligent, audacious writing, first rate performances, overall production value of the highest order and taut direction in the Hitchcock tradition all add up to one barn burner of a horror thriller. Christ's remains, wherever they may be, must be spinning in their grave constantly for the events depicted in the film which sadly, are not far removed from the kind of evil taking place all over America and frankly, anywhere and everywhere in which organized religions have their insidious talons plunged deeply and ravenously in the flesh of all those who would dare transgress laws which no real God, no real Supreme Being, no genuine entity of love, spirituality and forgiveness would ever in its wildest dreams imagine, much less consent to.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** Five Stars

She Who Must Burn is playing at the 2015 Toronto Blood in the Snow Film Festival.

HOT DOCS 2015: A SINNER IN MECCA Review By Greg Klymkiw ****

A Sinner in Mecca (2015)
Dir. Parvez Sharma

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I think filmmaker Parvez Sharma (A Jihad for Love) wins the grand prize, hands-down, for making one of the bravest films of this or any other year. Sharma is a deeply devout Muslim and required, as all able-bodied Muslims are, to make the pilgrimage to Mecca (The Hajj) in Saudi Arabia at least once in his life.

The time for him is now. He needs to affirm his faith by making this Holy journey, but he also needs to address a deeply personal conundrum of conscience. Has he been a good Muslim? Is he a good Muslim? Can he continue to be a good Muslim?

Sharma, you see, is gay.

Virtually all organized religions have a problem with homosexuality, though some more than others. It's probably safe to say that Islam falls into the more category. Uh, like, big-time more. Not only will Sharma embark upon this deeply spiritual odyssey, but it will be extremely dangerous to do so. It might well rival that of Homer's Odysseus, only in this case the Cyclops Polyphemus, the man-eating Laestrygonians and six-headed Scylla will seem tame in comparison to the deeply fundamentalist members of Sharma's faith.

He might not come back at all.

Here's the deal on the "not coming back at all" part of the equation.

First and foremost:

Hello!

Sharma is GAY!

In Saudia Arabia this is a crime and the penalties include corporal AND capital punishment.

Secondly, he is going to film the experience.

Uh, it's utterly, absolutely, completely FORBIDDEN to shoot anywhere in the Holy city of Makkah (Mecca).

This is simple math here, folks.

The results of the equation seem so daunting and yet, one gets the sense from the film that Sharma is even more convinced that this is something he must do.

The bulk of the film is indeed a profoundly moving and alternately, terrifying experience. It's also imbued with the kind of Cecil B. DeMille-like sweep, only with the "real thing" on view - not thousands of extras, nor grand, spectacular make-believe sets, but real people and real locations. Sharma takes us deep into Masjid al-Haramthe an 88-acre mosque which contains the Kaaba, a massive cube-like structure said to have been built over 2000 years before Christ by Ibrahim and Ismael.

We witness, from afar, and then right in the midst of it, tens upon tens upon tens of thousands of the faithful as they circle the Kaaba, protected by armed guards, in order to get close enough to touch it for absolution. This is surely some of the most astounding footage you'll ever see. As far as I can tell, no film has ever been close enough to the Kaaba to photograph it in all its glory. It's also plenty suspenseful since at anytime, Sharma risks being beaten, arrested and/or killed for photographing the proceedings and/or being gay, but also, because the mass of constantly moving human flesh is, in and of itself, extremely dangerous. At one point, we're even privy to what appears to be a violent stampede.

Sharma takes us, step-by-step through every single challenge of the pilgrimage: the running of the Saee (to pay homage to Hajjar, the mother of Ismail), a whole day under the blistering sun upon the plains of Arafat (to pray for forgiveness), an entire night on the plain of Muzdalifah (to collect stones) and eventually to enter the Jamrat in order to hurl stones at the massive columns representing Satan.

The film also presents a sense of outrage and even ironic humour as we bear witness to the grotesque accoutrements imposed upon this holy site by the idiot ruling families of Saudi like toilets replacing the original home of Muhammad and his first wife, the endless skyscrapers (including a garish clock tower) and - I KID YOU NOT - the MALL OF MECCA. Yes, a massive shopping mall; perhaps the largest in the world.

What's truly astonishing about Sharma's film is not just this amazing footage, but that his journey is so damn moving and inspirational. He obviously lived to tell the tale, for which we all must be grateful for, but for some of us, religious or not, Muslim or not, his trip to Mecca has the power to touch us well beyond the bravery and aesthetic of the film, but affect an audience on a deeply spiritual level.

This is what makes cinema so special. We can live vicariously through Sharma's experience, but in so doing we are also susceptible to being imbued (albeit mediated) with the holiness of Allah, or God, or whatever higher power we acknowledge.

Note: Sharma and his film have already been denounced and he has received death threats. This has forced the Hot Docs festival to provide Sharma with bodyguards. It's ludicrous. I can think, especially in the current climate of intolerance towards Muslim people, of no better way to represent Islam to all of us.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** 4 Stars

A Sinner in Mecca has its World Premiere at Hot Docs 2015. For info click HERE

ELMER GANTRY - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Lancaster Dazzles in KinoLorber Blu-Ray

"You think Jesus was some kind of a sissy, eh? Let me tell you, Jesus wouldn't be afraid to walk in here or any speakeasy to preach the gospel. Jesus had guts! He wasn't afraid of the whole Roman army." --Burt Lancaster as Elmer Gantry

WHAT IS RELIGION? Religion is LOVE!
And love is the morning and the evening star…
I know nothing of theosophy, philosophy,
psychology, ideology or any other ology.
But I DO know this:
With Christ, you're SAVED,
Without Christ, you're LOST.
And how do I know there's a merciful God?
Because I've seen the Devil plenty of times!

Elmer Gantry (1960)
Dir. Richard Brooks
Starring: Burt Lancaster, Jean Simmons, Arthur Kennedy, Dean Jagger, Shirley Jones, Patti Page, Edeard Andrews, John McIntire

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Slinking through one post-war-pre-depression tank town after another, with a smile wider than the midwestern prairie skies always above him, title character Elmer Gantry (Burt Lancaster) might be the best travelling salesman in America.

Driven by a thirst for cheap liquor, even cheaper women, the company of other back-slapping bagmen and blessed by the Lord on high with the alternately revered and reviled acoethes loquendi, Elmer's gift of gab knows no bounds. He's always got the latest and greatest ribald jokes on the tip of his tongue and splatters his brilliant, charming sales pitches with the expert blarney of a top-flight evangelist, peppering every second word, phrase or sentence with passionate dollops of scripture.

SON OF GODZILLA - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Goddamn it all to Hell. Where's the fucking monsters? Why do the filmmakers rip us off with the story of Jesus? Why didn't they just call their fucking movie SON OF GOD?

GODZILLA VS. JESUS H. CHRIST

Son of Godzilla (2014) ONE PUBIC HAIR
Dir. Christopher Spencer
Starring: Diogo Morgado and a bunch of actors I've never heard of and never want to see again

Review By Greg Klymkiw

So I'm thinking whilst this movie unspools that maybe, just maybe, this is some kind of revisionist take on the famed Japanese monster Gojira (known in English as Godzilla), but I've got to say, watching this movie was so damn frustrating. I hate it when you see a monster movie and you have to wait forever for the monster to finally show up. I'm also thinking it's a bit weird that they've made a movie called Son of Godzilla to come out on Blu-Ray around the same time that a new Godzilla is opening all over the world.

I am, however, a patient man. I've been told I've the patience of Job. So fuck it. I'm here for the duration. I'm going to give this sucker a chance if it kills me. So, some dude called John starts telling us the story of a guy called Jesus. I mean is this THE Jesus? You know, as in Jesus H. Christ? I'm thinking - okay, I can deal with this.

He starts telling us about how Jesus is born to a virgin and do we get to see Mary popping a green lizard out of her virginal quim? Do we get to see Godzilla in the barn with the fucking cows and lambs? No! The movie does the whole Star of Bethlehem thing and even has three fucking Wise Men from Orientare visit the little bugger in his swaddling clothes and give him a bunch of useless gifts except, I guess, for the gold. I mean really, these people look pretty fucking poor and this Mary chick has just popped her sucker into a bed of straw in a barn. The fuck are they going to do with frankincense and myrrh? Then again, maybe they can take it to a pawn shop or something. Fair enough.

Anyhow, I figure it's just a matter of time before they introduce the Son of Godzilla. The Jesus dude grows up into a hunky fella played by some really pretty boy I've never heard of before called Diogo Morgado. He starts visiting a bunch of dudes and asks them if they want to be his disciples. I'm thinking, you know, this actor is gorgeous. Maybe he's going to hit a steam bath soon and we're going to see him put those "purty lips" to good use. I'm thinking here of that hillbilly in Deliverance looking at Jon Voight and imagining a nice blow job when he says, "He sure gots hissef a purty mouth." No such luck. No blow jobs twixt Jesus and the disciples. The biggest drag is I'm expecting we're going to get some revisionist stuff going soon and that maybe Jesus is going to recruit the Son of Godzilla. That's not to much to ask, is it?

No dice. No Godzilla. No Son of Godzilla. Still no monsters. (We do get to see Satan later on, but they've got him made up to look like Barack Obama, so that doesn't count.)

Instead Jesus displays his ability to perform magic tricks - you know, kind of like David Copperfield or Doug Henning or better yet, Siegfried and Roy. But no, does he do any tricks with Siberian Tigers? In a pig's eye! All we get is the tired old walking on water, turning a basket of mouldy food into enough kippers and pita to feed an army and give me a break - when he goes into that cave I'm thinking maybe he's finally going to meet Godzilla and raise HIM from the dead, but no, it's that old chestnut of raising Lazarus from the dead.

At this point, I realize I've been mightily ripped off by the God Squad who made this movie. The picture just drags us through all the usual crap of Jesus pissing off the Pharisees, having his last supper, getting fucked over by Judas, getting arrested and scourged and then forced to carry a cross to Calvary. And la-di-fucking-da, he gets nailed to the goddamn cross and even here, I'm holding out for a big rescue from the Son of Godzilla. I mean, really. Who wouldn't want to see all those fucking Romans get stomped and munched by a giant green lizard? Would that be too much to ask?

What I want to ask is this: So they lied to us about Godzilla, but why did they have to make this unbelievably boring and awful movie about Jesus Christ when there are plenty of decent Jesus pictures out there. Think about it. We've got Nick Ray's I Was a Teenage Jesus movie King of Kings, we've got George Stevens dragging us through the most beautiful picture postcards for five hours in The Greatest Story Ever Told (which, by the way, has John Wayne in it), there's Franco Zeffirelli's TV movie Jesus of Nazareth that's genuinely pretty damn good and last, but not least, the greatest Jesus double feature of all, Martin Scorsese's The Last Temptation of Christ where Jesus gets to fuck Barbara Hershey and the biggest horror show of them all, Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. Mel gives us so much Jesus Flagellation Porn that we're sitting there thinking we've NEVER seen so much bloodletting in any movie ever made.

Gibson delivers the goods so big time, you've gotta wonder, who the fuck needs Godzilla?

Son of Godzilla is available on Blu-Ray and DVD, but I'm telling you, it's a major ripoff. Why didn't they just call it Son of God and be done with it?

NOAH - Review By Greg Klymkiw - In search of berries in the land of theSmurfs and Vikings

You'll see green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born
You're never gonna see no unicorns - The Irish Rovers, The Unicorn Song

"Oh shit, it's black fly season and I've got lockjaw."

"I need BERRIES. Got any?

Noah (2014) *
Dir. Darren Aronofsky
Starring: Russell Crowe, Jennifer Connelly, Anthony Hopkins, Ray Winstone, Nick Nolte

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Four words.

Anthony Hopkins IS Methuselah.

Phew! Who cut the fuckin' cheese? Man, oh man, when great directors fail, it's nice to see them crap-out as spectacularly as Darren (Pi, Requiem For a Dream, Black Swan, The Wrestler) Aronofsky has done with the swirling sea of salt water pickle brine that is Noah. Yes, the movie is dreadful, but it's at least a rip-snorting hoot for most of its running time and if you've a hankering for a multi-million dollar Sun Classic International-styled Ed Wood-directed biblical epic, have I got a picture for you.

"I plan to skewer chipmunks upon my 'stache."

In case you don't already know the plot, we're talking Noah of the Ark fame here, the fairytale Old Testament servant of God. To quote from the angel Gabriel in Green Pastures: "Gangway! Gangway fo' de Lawd." And I've gotta tell ya', de Lawd sho' do be right royally pissed off with Man for all his sinning ways - so much so that he entrusts his loyal earthly servant Noah to build an Ark to house the "innocent" during the Great Flood. The innocents He wishes to save are God's non-human animals - excepting of course, the unicorn. God just wants to bless the beasts with life and start all over again. Can we blame him? (Oh, and Aronofsky, an avowed atheist refuses to use the word "God" in the film. He substitutes it with "Creator", but hey, that's his sick shit, not mine.)

God declares, not unlike Travis Bickle: "Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets." Though He doesn't come right out and say it, de Lawd be thinkin', "All the animals come out at night - whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal."

And I feel for Aronofsky on this. It's not much of a story. God tells Noah to build an ark and fill it with animals while everything and everyone else will die in a flood. Noah builds the Ark, the animals board the Ark, the rains comes, the rains go. End of story.

So one of our great directors decides to add a revisionist twist to the piece and couch it as a tale of man's environmental assaults upon the Earth and how drastic measures must be taken to achieve a new beginning. The same, said director decides there's also an interesting way to tell a tale of religious zealotry through Noah who feels charged with the desire to fulfil God's Word even if it means murdering the children of his eldest son. Aronofsky also dabbles in presenting a rivalry twixt Noah and Tubal-cain (Ray Winstone), the former being someone who blindly accepts a potential misinterpretation of God's Word and the latter who believes God created in His own image to place a species at the top of the food chain and to control his own destiny.

These very interesting elements are there, but the movie is just so Good-Godawful in pretty much every other respect. Noah and his wife are portrayed as some manner of eco-hippies, but they're equally presented as positively insufferable cliches. Anthony Hopkins munches ham to portray the 900-year-old Methuselah as a doddering idiot who's mostly obsessed with being able to find and eat berries before he dies. I kid you not. There's even a scene with Hopkins on all fours whilst maniacally trolling the ground for fucking berries.

And, of course, I shit myself laughing when a little girl asks Noah to sing. I was gobsmacked, actually. Crowe sings!

As if this weren't enough, Aronofsky even goes all Ray Harryhausen on us when we're introduced to humungous stone creatures called "The Watchers" who rise up out of the ground to offer assistance to Noah to both build the Ark AND do battle - yes BATTLE! - with the armies of Tubal-cain. Worse yet, The Watchers are essentially identical to Transformers - yes, rock-hewn Michael-Bay-style Transformers.

This might be one of the biggest follies of all - CG Transformers made of rock aside, the most ludicrous element is just how much of the film is generated via CG. Using real animals would have lent a sense of "humanity" to the proceedings, but no matter which way you slice it, God's non-human animals have about as much warmth as a witch's tit.

The levels of idiocy in this movie know no bounds, frankly. They are all, however, knee-slappingly funny. Yeah, the laughs are unintentional, but they are as pure as those achieved by Edward D. Wood Jr. in his straight-faced Bride of the Monster and Plan 9 From Outer Space. I mean that with absolutely no condescension towards the late Mr. Wood. I genuinely love the guy. Just, as I genuinely love Aronofsky. They're both filmmakers with a voice, and that ain't something to be sneezed at.

Uh, did I just compare Aronofsky to Ed Wood?

Noah is in massive worldwide release via Paramount Pictures

LION OF THE DESERT - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Moustapha Akkad's 2nd Epic of Islam a Total Rip-Snorter!

Omar Mukhtar (Anthony Quinn) leads his people in warfare against the Italian colonization of Libya. Mussolini's (Rod Steiger) fascist forces suffer one resounding defeat after another at the hands of the Bedouin rebel armies until a new sherif comes to town in the form of the prancing martinet General Rodolfo Graziani (Oliver Reed). Not willing to disappoint Il Duce, he employs the slippery tactics of British colonialists which, include the employment of concentration camps, building a barbed wire wall along Libya's border and engaging in deceptive peace talks. Mukhtar then launches a massive, bloody suicide offensive to instil added power and glory within his people.

Lion of the Desert (1981) Dir. Moustapha Akkad ****
Starring: Anthony Quinn, Oliver Reed, Rod Steiger, Raf Vallone, John Gielgud

Review By Greg Klymkiw

One of cinema's biggest losses was when filmmaker Moustapha Akkad stopped making epic works about Islam after his rousing Bedouins Vs. Fascists rip-snorter The Lion in the Desert failed to connect with Western audiences in the early 80s. This was not through any fault of the picture itself, but a concerted effort to censor it via clearly intentional film industry indifference at both the distribution and exhibition levels outside of predominantly Muslim countries. One can only assume how much more positive an impact the work might have had politically, socially and culturally if more than just the "converted" had actually been allowed to experience its sweep and power.

Alas, when the New World Order of the Western World chooses to repress anything that presents it in any light other than positive, its success rate at doing so is virtually unbeatable.

This, of course, is why the efforts of Anchor Bay to bring his work to wider audiences via home entertainment formats is to be so vigorously applauded. Akkad's The Message, a biopic - albeit one of the strangest and most original of its genre - about Mohammed, the great prophet who founded the religious faith devoted to Allah and Lion of the Desert, the story of Libyan freedom fighter Omar Mukhtar, are both available in DVD and now in first-rate Blu-Ray editions for new generations to appreciate both the quality and the message imparted by this formidable pair.

Lion of the Desert is a truly sumptuous treat for lovers of stirring war epics. As a director, Akkad really found his voice and a mastery of his gifts.

Though the film might lack some of the clear intellectual, spiritual and artistic rigour of someone like David Lean, it's important to note this was only Akkad's second picture, a sophomore effort of such sweep and command of the medium that one can only lament how far he might have been able to move forward if opportunity to keep making films had been in the cards for him. Expertly commanding great work from such stalwart collaborators as cinematographer Jack (The Bridge on the River Kwai) Hildyard, editor John (Live and Let Die) Shirley and composer Maurice (Dr. Zhivago) Jarre, Akkad delivers a picture that's replete with thrills and excitement.

The battle sequences are amongst some of the best ever filmed and in this day of CGI, we get a clear sense of how magnificent the real thing actually is. Here we get a genuine cast of thousands sweeping across the screen, thundering across the desert with swords raised and always ready to connect with the flesh of the fascist infidel.

Bolstering this huge, glorious, old-fashioned adventure of a rebel army preserving its people and its faith is a tremendous cast. Anthony Quinn is heroism incarnate and he handles both sides of Omar Mukhtar (the gentle teacher, the fierce soldier) with his usual aplomb. Rod Steiger is especially amazing in his portrayal of Il Duce. He fulfills the requisite bursts of insanity and petulance of the mad Italian dictator in a manner that's completely outside of Steiger's penchant for chewing the scenery. There's no whiff of the usual ham that Steiger could bring to roles with his eyes closed.

And let it be said that the late, great Oliver Reed ignites the screen with his smouldering presence. He seems born to play the fiercely ambitious Italian general who eventually brought Mukhtar down and - DAMN! - if Reed doesn't look ultra-cool in fascist military finery.

This is a movie that's as rousing as any great war picture should be, but the special treat is that our heroes are Muslim freedom fighters. It's a joy to see an alternate side of the coin, especially since Islam has been providing Hollywood with an endless supply of cliched villains du jour since 9/11.

As well, Akkad wisely and intelligently avoids painting the fascist villains with propagandistic simplicity - they're real flesh and blood characters - a far sight better than how Hollywood usually treats its Islam-worshipping "villains".

Lion of the Desert and Akkad's The Message were financed by Libyan ruler Muammar Gaddafi (Rompin' Ronnie Reagan's nemesis throughout the 80s). In spite of America's hatred for Gaddafi, he offered, provided and maintained a strictly hands-off approach to financing both films and exercised no censorship whatsoever. This, of course, is a far cry from the overt and/or subtle censorship of American cinema via the government, New World Order and/or the studios.

Sadly, Akkad never got to make his dream project Saladin, an epic that was to star Sean Connery as the great Muslim leader who fought against the injustices of the Crusades. During pre-production in 2005, Akkad and his daughter were killed in the bombings that took place in Amman, Jordan. This would have resulted in a historic trilogy of major epics on Islam, but was not to be.

Luckily, we have Akkad to thank for making two huge motion pictures in an attempt to bridge the divide between Islam and the Western World and Lion of the Desert does so with explosively memorable thrills and sheer boys' adventure-styled excitement..

"Lion of the Desert" is available on Blu-Ray in a gorgeous new transfer from Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada.

THE MESSAGE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Inspirational Epic of Islam now on Anchor Bay Ent. Canada Blu-Ray

ZORBA the ARAB
It ain't all Greek to
His Holy Swarthiness!

Mohammed, the Prophet, receives a Holy Message from God via the angel Gabriel and begins a struggle to take back the city of Mecca - now a den of inequity and represented by over 300 pagan gods. With such formidable foes as a rich, greedy and powerful merchant class led by Abu Sofyan (Michael Ansara) and his wife Hind (Irene Papas), converting the people to Islam is going to be an uphill battle. Luckily, playing Mohammed's Uncle Hamza is Anthony Quinn (AKA "The Life Force" - as crowned, with tongue firmly in cheek, by the late, great Pauline Kael). He's just the man among men to kick all the Pagan-butt necessary on behalf of the Great Prophet. Eventually God is forevermore able to win the hearts and minds of all the people - thanks, of course, to Anthony Quinn (and yes, Mohammed, the All Holy Messenger of the One True God).

________________________________________________________________________________

Anthony Quinn: The Ideal Butt-Kicker for Islam!

THE MESSAGE (1977) ***1/2
Dir. Moustapha Akkad
Starring: Michael Ansara, Irene Pappas, Anthony Quinn
Review By Greg Klymkiw

Short of reading a good translation of the Koran and/or taking an introductory undergraduate Religious Studies course, Moustapha Akkad's straightforward epic narrative rendering of the story of the Prophet Mohammed, provides a solid, entertaining Coles/Cliff's Notes version of the origins of a religion that has otherwise been horrendously stereotyped by the West and equally (and even surprisingly) perverted by extremist Middle Eastern sects.

The Message was long overdue and cinematic reparations were, indeed, in order. Like any decent Cecil B. DeMille sword-and-sandal sprawler like The Greatest Story Ever Told (including the ludicrous George Stevens remake) and The Ten Commandments, it's a relatively straightforward tale told with a great deal of sweep. Director Moustapha Akkad isn't, however, as proficient a filmmaker as DeMille. Not that Akkad's direction is bad, but due to the international nature and flavour of the production (it was seven years in the making, shot in several languages and in some cases with alternate cast members for different markets), there are more than a few clunky moments. However, the film strikes a generally good balance between history lesson and rip-snorting entertainment and is, in general, thoughtful, literate and respectful of its subject matter.

Given that the subject matter is Mohammed, the Holy Prophet of Islam, it's a darn good thing Akkad was respectful. Ultimately, God only knows, he might well have had a Fatwah imposed upon him. This wasn't going to happen to Akkad, though, since the canny director developed the property and shot it in such a way that he was able to maintain the strict Holy Doctrine of never literally depicting Mohammed. His solution to the problem of telling the story of someone who was not allowed, in any way, shape or form to be seen onscreen, was so brilliantly simple that after the initial shock of having to get used to it, you do.

Seriously, this must be reiterated: Mohammed is the main character, but he is never seen onscreen, nor are we allowed to hear his voice. His actions and words are described by others and when characters need to speak with Mohammed, Akkad has them speaking directly into the camera. I really loved this touch - not only for adhering to the strict Muslim laws on such matters, but frankly, this kind of reverence towards the "Character" adds considerably to the mystique and holiness of Mohammed and his very important story within the context of the world's faith-based history.

This is one big movie. As the cliched saying goes: "They don't make 'em like this anymore." The vistas are vast, the sets and costumes sumptuous and the whole film is pleasingly photographed. Akkad assembled an amazing team of artists including gorgeous cinematography by the legendary Jack Hildyard (The Bridge on the River Kwai) and a stirring score by composer Maurice Jarre (Dr. Zhivago). This is a movie that, by rights, should have been seen far more widely in the West - especially in North America.

In contemporary terms, The Message might be even more important than ever since it presents a far more accurate portrait of the Islamic faith, its roots and history - effectively shooting down all the truly hateful American propaganda foisted upon audiences since 9/11. Akkad emphasizes so many of the progressive values of this religion - including equality between men and women as well as issues of peace, love and forgiveness. Though the movie might have been tarred and feathered by Muslim audiences even before it was released (rumours circulated that Charlton Heston would be seen - on camera - playing Mohammed), Akkad had wisely brought numerous Islamic clerics and academics on board as active historical and religious watchdogs. Rather than compromising the film, it did, I believe, make the film far more sympathetic, informative and entertaining.

In America, the film was viewed in an anti-Judeo-Christian light which, was especially moronic since the film even refers positively to any number of Judeo-Christian prophets and deities including Abraham, Moses and the Big Fella' Himself, Jesus H. Christ. The real reason The Message was virtually censored and condemned via poor exhibition and distribution (under the title Mohammed: Messenger of God), along with Akkad's tremendous followup Lion of the Desert (to be reviewed on this website soon) had way more to do with the fact that his films had been financed to the hilt by Libyan ruler Muammar Gaddafi (Rompin' Ronnie Reagan's nemesis throughout the 80s). In spite of America's hatred for Gaddafi, he offered, provided and maintained a strictly hands-off approach to financing both films and exercised no censorship whatsoever. This, of course, is a far cry from the overt and/or subtle censorship of American cinema via the government, New World Order and/or the studios.

Sadly, Akkad never got to make his dream project Saladin, an epic that was to star Sean Connery as the great Muslim leader who fought against the injustices of the Crusades. During pre-production in 2005, Akkad and his daughter were killed in the bombings that took place in Amman, Jordan. Luckily, we have Akkad to thank for making two huge motion pictures in an attempt to bridge the divide between Islam and the Western World.

Curiously, and for better or worse, he can also be thanked for financing, as Executive Producer, the first eight Halloween films - movies that reached audiences in the most universal manner one could imagine.

"The Message" is available on Blu-Ray in a gorgeous new edition from Anchor Bay Entertainment Canada which includes the Arabic version of the film and an excellent making-of documentary.

BORDER - Review By Greg Klymkiw - #TIFF 2013 - The horrors suffered by the innocent are mostly off-screen, but as such, are even more harrowing as we imagine the fate that faces two women fleeing Syria.

TIFF Discovery Series - #TIFF 2013
Programmed By Piers Handling
Border (2013) ***1/2
Dir. Alessio Cremonini
Starring: Dana Keilani, Sara El debuch, Wasim Abo azan

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Of course it's been oft-noted that what we don't see is often more powerful than what we can see, but clearly one cannot exist without the other. What drives a narrative forward is every element used to enhance the journey of the characters and by extension, the audience's participation in said journey. When the issue of self-determination and choice is what drives every element of the story and the narrative itself is set-up in a way where we (both characters and audience) know what conflicts await and furthermore, when the choices, no matter how considered can lead to disaster, we're all the more aware of being in classic storytelling territory. However, what ultimately makes the expected unexpected is the telling of the story from a stylistic standpoint.

Fatima is a new bride. Her husband has gone to war and she lives a quiet life with her sister Aya in the conjugal flat. The sisters are extremely devout and spend a great deal of their time devoted to practising their faith. When news comes that Fatima's husband has left the Syrian Army to join the Free Army of "rebels", they have very little time to react. What they do know is that they will suffer the repercussions of the actions taken by Fatima's husband - actions they are both in concurrence with. Aya is already a survivor of gang rape, torture and incarceration and while she understands what could well await them, she's also wary of the complete stranger sent by Fatima's husband to whisk them out of Syria to safety and freedom in Turkey. Still, there's really no choice for either woman. The actions of a Totalitarian government and, to an extent, by Fatima's husband has petty much removed any vestige of self determination in the matter.

After hurriedly throwing together a few essentials, they are plunged into following a man they do not know through "enemy" territory. The only real choice they make, and it's at great risk to their safety, is that both women refuse to remove their religious headgear which, while on the road, could well give them away. The trip is fraught with several unexpected turns that keep them from moving moving forward as quickly as anyone had hoped. Deception, double-crosses and danger lie around every corner.

When they discover a recently tortured and slaughtered family deep in a Syrian forest, the stark, brutal reality really hits home, but upon finding a lone survivor of the massacre, the women both realize that this might well be the symbolic hope they need to find safety. In so doing, however, they will also have to protect the newly discovered survivor. There are no false notes in Border. The superb performances, the exquisitely structured screenplay (by director Cremonini and Susan Dabbous) and finally, Cremonini's terse helmsmanship of the action creates a tension that, at times, becomes far more unbearable if the story had been presented in some overtly overwrought manner (as might have been the case if directed by an American).

Border is, in its own way, a kind of celebration of self-determination in a world where so much is awry due the war-mongering of men and where every step these women must take might be one step closer to the most unimaginable horrors.

"Border" is part of the TIFF Discovery series at the Toronto International Film Festival 2013. Visit the TIFF website HERE.

GOD'S NEIGHBORS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Goodfellas in Bat Yam

God's Neighbors (2012) ****
Dir. Meny Yaesh
Starring: Roy Assaf, Rotam Zussman

Review By Greg Klymkiw

You know, if the Catholic Church had been a bit more on the ball, they might have tried to discourage raping little boys and instead worked a bit harder to inspire a genuinely devout cult, not unlike the youthful gang of Hasidim in God's Neighbors, the thrilling feature film debut from director Meny Yaesh.

What we see in this film, our mouths agape in a perverse blend of shock and admiration, are young, skull-capped gentlemen enforcing adherence to religion with their fists, baseball bats and yes, even guns. Between the warmth of kiddush, intensive Torah studies and seemingly endless prayer in the synagogue, Avi (Roy Assaf) and his buddies troll their Bat Yam neighbourhood like Alex and his Droogs in Stanley Kubrick's film adaptation of A Clockwork Orange. However, unlike Malcolm McDowell and his nadsat-spouting ruffians, these deeply religious fellows do not count rape, ultra-violence and Beethoven amongst their principal interests.

Non-observance is the disease. Avi and his buds are the cure.

Got Arabs driving though your neighbourhood? No problem. Got recent Russian-Jewish immigrants playing loud music on the eve of the Sabbath? Get your schwance out of the ringer and relax. Got shopkeepers ignoring Shabbat? Rest easy.

Avi and his band of Merry Hasidim will be at your service.

And service, they do indeed provide. With pleasure.

After beating some non-observers to an absolute pulp for disrespecting all that is sacred and holy, Avi proudly looks up at the apartment windows of the neighbourhood and proudly, happily shouts: "Good Sabbath!"

Good Sabbath, indeed! Our boys toke up mightily, grab a few guzzles of wine and settle in for a restful evening.

This movie is an absolute corker! Exciting, provocative and incendiary - God's Neighbors is a kind of Bratslaver Mean Streets by way of Rabbi Nachman's Goodfellas. These boys mean business. And in spite of my aforementioned slagging of the Catholic Church (and in fairness to the child-raping minions of the papacy), I think it's safe to say that no organized religion is immune from the incongruities between observance and violence. It's what makes the world go round.

That said, like any good coming-of-age story, Yaesh's terrific picture (like Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange) gets to have its cake and eat it too - thrill us with violence, but make us pay for it later on.

At the movie's core is a love story that inspires our hero to journey from out of the darkest depths in order to break free of extremism's and discover the true power and beauty of both life and God. (Let it be said also, that the film rather ingeniously introduces Avi to the woman of his dreams and allows him to court her via an almost - for this film, anyway - de rigueur jaw-dropper of a meet-cute.)

Yaesh's exuberant direction is matched only by the electricity of his actors. Roy Assaf's juiced performance as Avi is a marvel to behold - he runs the gamut of emotions - he's kind, caring, conservative, funny, vicious and loving. He creates an indelible character that inspires revulsion and admiration from us in equal measure. Rotam Zussman as his gorgeous, free-spirited love interest is an added cherry on the ice cream sundae. She's fun, soulful and sexy. We want these two to be together, but thankfully, the great screenplay tosses numerous hurdles for Avi to overcome so that his road to redemption is a constant struggle and never guaranteed.

So get in on the ground floor of Meny Yaesh. This is going to be the first of many first-rate pictures we get from him. Besides, what other film would offer you the following food for thought: The next time you're holding a handgun whilst facing down a non-observant miscreant, you might actually think twice before uttering the words: "Go ahead, punk, make my Shabbat".

"God's Neighbors" is playing at the Toronto Jewish Film Festival.
For tickets and info, click HERE.

BEYOND THE HILLS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Cristian Mungiu delivers harrowing masterwork in the tradition of Dreyer's great work focusing upon the exploitation of women within fundamentalist religions. Playing theatrically in Canada at TIFF BELL LIGHTBOX in Toronto via Mongrel Media.

Beyond the Hills (2012) *****
dir. Cristian Mungiu
Starring: Cosmina Stratan, Cristina Flutur, Valeriu Andriuta

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Women who confess during their menstrual period are sinners. Afflicted with the said Woman's Time, they do not dare enter a church (Orthodox, of course - other denominations are unholy). It's highly inappropriate to expose the "dirty" condition of vaginal discharge to the face of God or his representatives.

In fact, women who commit any sins whatsoever are shit out of luck in Eastern Rite Christian religions and their penance for any affronts to Our Lord will rate more vigorous, painful prostrations than a priest can shake his censer of incense at. Related to this is that most orphanages (in virtually any former Communist state in Central/Eastern Europe) boot out their charges penniless at age 16-18. The young women who are lucky enough to be earmarked to serve God as a Nun are the few who can avoid being sold into sexual slavery upon leaving the orphanage.

Many of these women recruited to serve God have ironically already suffered abuse at the hands of orphanage officials who notoriously (and for a price), would look the other way while little girls in their care were forced to pose for child pornography. And then, once the "lucky few" chosen to serve God enter the religious institutions, they are repressed, humiliated and indoctrinated into a life of endless exploitation within the Eastern Rite worship of Christ.

I try to reserve the word "masterpiece" for motion pictures that have lived a bit longer in the world than this one, but I'm pretty convinced Cristian Mungiu (director of 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days) has created a film of lasting value. In its own way the film tells an extremely vital tale in a manner that contributes both to cinema as an art and perhaps even more importantly, to humanity.

So yes, Beyond the Hills is a masterpiece. It tells the harrowing and moving story of two friends who took separate paths after their release from a Moldavian orphanage and charts their heartbreaking reunion some years later. Voichita (Cosmina Stratan) joined a nearby monastery to become a nun under the strict patriarchy of an Orthodox priest referred to as "Papa" (Valeriu Andriuta). Alina (Cristina Flutur) has been living "alone" in Germany and working, so she says, as a waitress. Her plan is to extricate Voichita from the monastery so they can rekindle their deep love and friendship together.

God, or rather, religious hypocrisy and hysteria has other plans. What follows is as nightmarish an exploitation of women as the forced sex trade - the creepily insidious manner in which women are forced into the sexist, misogynistic and subservient roles that are so prevalent in cultures rooted in the centuries-old Eastern Rite religious traditions. Even more horrendous are the deep-seeded attitudes these cultures have towards orphans (also rooted in sexism and misogyny). For a huge majority of Eastern Rite followers, orphans take on the sins of their mothers and as such, our two central characters were born into a world that believed them to be lesser human beings because of this.

Mungiu charts the final weeks of the orphans' friendship in a style that is somewhat reminiscent of that employed by Carl Dreyer - most notably in the religious-themed Day of Wrath and Ordet. Visually, Mungiu's images are occasionally stark, but unlike the austere qualities Dreyer imbues his visuals with, Mungiu's frames are much more packed with details that border on neo-realism. Dreyer's approach is obviously more classical (in his own demented, compelling fashion), however he was so ahead of his time in terms of exploring themes of religious repression/oppression upon women. With Mungiu, and Beyond The Hills specifically, it feels like Dreyer has spawned a younger contemporary director to tackle similar themes in equally brilliant ways. Even more extraordinary is that BOTH directors - separated by decades - speak universally, and NOT ephemerally on this theme.

With Beyond the Hills, nothing in terms of production design ever seems less than real, but where Mungiu and Dreyer share approaches can be found in the tableau-styled takes and, of course, in the stories that are told. Dreyer might be one of the great film artists to have committed himself to the thematic concerns of women amidst religious and/or societal repression and their exploitation within these worlds. Clearly with the horrific tale of abortion, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days and now Beyond the Hills, Mungiu continues in Dreyer's bold thematic and narrative tradition of placing women and their suffering in patriarchal worlds.

Mungiu's screenplay is quite exquisite. There is, on the surface, a relatively simple plot which allows him to layer numerous complex psychological layers and points of view (though the focus is always clear when it needs to be). His cast acquit themselves beautifully with the gorgeous writing he's wrought for them and the long, simple takes allow his cast to naturally bring the story beats alive and to play out in ways that never seem false or predictable.

Furthermore, and with the same mastery brought to bear in Dreyer's great work, Mungiu establishes a pace that is so hypnotic that the film's running time never seems as long as it actually is.

"Beyond The Hills", distributed by Mongrel Media, is playing theatrically in Canada at the Toronto International Film Festival's TIFF BELL LIGHTBOX.   For further information and tickets, visit the TIFF website HERE.

BEYOND THE HILLS - TIFF 2012 - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Cristian Mungiu's masterpiece captures the insidious way in which women are forced into the sexist, misogynistic and subservient roles prevalent in cultures rooted in the centuries-old Eastern Rite religious traditions.

Beyond the Hills (2012) *****
dir. Cristian Mungiu
Starring: Cosmina Stratan, Cristina Flutur, Valeriu Andriuta

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Women who confess during their menstrual period are sinners. Afflicted with the said Woman's Time, they do not dare enter a church (Orthodox, of course - other denominations are unholy). It's highly inappropriate to expose the "dirty" condition of vaginal discharge to the face of God or his representatives.
In fact, women who commit any sins whatsoever are shit out of luck in Eastern Rite Christian religions and their penance for any affronts to Our Lord will rate more vigorous, painful prostrations than a priest can shake his censer of incense at. Related to this is that most orphanages (in virtually any former Communist state in Central/Eastern Europe) boot out their charges penniless at age 16-18. The young women who are lucky enough to be earmarked to serve God as a Nun are the few who can avoid being sold into sexual slavery upon leaving the orphanage. Many of these women recruited to serve God have ironically already suffered abuse at the hands of orphanage officials who notoriously (and for a price), would look the other way while little girls in their care were forced to pose for child pornography. And then, once the "lucky few" chosen to serve God enter the religious institutions, they are repressed, humiliated and indoctrinated into a life of endless exploitation within the Eastern Rite worship of Christ.

I try to reserve the word "masterpiece" for motion pictures that have lived a bit longer in the world than this one, but I'm pretty convinced Cristian Mungiu (director of 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days) has created a film of lasting value. In its own way the film tells an extremely vital tale in a manner that contributes both to cinema as an art and perhaps even more importantly, to humanity.

So yes, Beyond the Hills is a masterpiece. It tells the harrowing and moving story of two friends who took separate paths after their release from a Moldavian orphanage and charts their heartbreaking reunion some years later. Voichita (Cosmina Stratan) joined a nearby monastery to become a nun under the strict patriarchy of an Orthodox priest referred to as "Papa" (Valeriu Andriuta). Alina (Cristina Flutur) has been living "alone" in Germany and working, so she says, as a waitress. Her plan is to extricate Voichita from the monastery so they can rekindle their deep love and friendship together.

God, or rather, religious hypocrisy and hysteria has other plans. What follows is as nightmarish an exploitation of women as the forced sex trade - the creepily insidious manner in which women are forced into the sexist, misogynistic and subservient roles that are so prevalent in cultures rooted in the centuries-old Eastern Rite religious traditions. Even more horrendous are the deep-seeded attitudes these cultures have towards orphans (also rooted in sexism and misogyny). For a huge majority of Eastern Rite followers, orphans take on the sins of their mothers and as such, our two central characters were born into a world that believed them to be lesser human beings because of this.

Mungiu charts the final weeks of the orphans' friendship in a style that is somewhat reminiscent of that employed by Carl Dreyer - most notably in the religious-themed Day of Wrath and Ordet. Visually, Mungiu's images are occasionally stark, but unlike the austere qualities Dreyer imbues his visuals with, Mungiu's frames are much more packed with details that border on neo-realism.

Nothing in terms of production design ever seems less than real, but where Mungiu and Dreyer share approaches can be found in the tableau-styled takes and, of course, in the stories that are told. Dreyer might be one of the great film artists to have committed himself to the thematic concerns of women amidst religious and/or societal repression and their exploitation within these worlds. Clearly with the horrific tale of abortion, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days and now Beyond the Hills, Mungiu continues in Dreyer's bold thematic and narrative tradition of placing women and their suffering in patriarchal worlds.

Mungiu's screenplay is quite exquisite. There is, on the surface, a relatively simple plot which allows him to layer numerous complex psychological layers and points of view (though the focus is always clear when it needs to be). His cast acquit themselves beautifully with the gorgeous writing he's wrought for them and the long, simple takes allow his cast to naturally bring the story beats alive and to play out in ways that never seem false or predictable.

Furthermore, and with the same mastery brought to bear in Dreyer's great work, Mungiu establishes a pace that is so hypnotic that the film's running time never seems as long as it actually is.

"Beyond The Hills", distributed by Mongrel Media, is playing at the Toronto International Film Festival 2012 (TIFF 2012) Wednesday September 12 Scotiabank 3 9:30 PM and Thursday September 13 Scotiabank 3 5:45 PM. For further information and tickets, visit the TIFF website HERE.