Saturday, 6 September 2014

GUIDANCE - TIFF 2014 (TIFF DISCOVERY) - Review By Greg Klymkiw


Guidance Counsellors are NOT cool.
This one most definitely IS.
Guidance (2014)
Dir. Pat Mills
Starring: Pat Mills, Zahra Bentham,
Laytrel McMullen, Alex Ozerov, Kevin Hanchard, Tracey Hoyt

Review By Greg Klymkiw

David Gold (Pat Mills) is a loser. He's a former child star reduced to taking non-union voice gigs, the latest of which he gets fired from because of his haughty, petulant, pretentious attitude. This is bad news because he's way behind on his share of the rent and on the verge of being turfed. He's got serious drug and alcohol problems and he's so deeply in the closet he won't even admit to himself that he's gay. Oh yeah, he's been diagnosed with late-stage skin cancer.

None of this phases our hero. For us, the audience, it's one hell of a good deal because Guidance (the feature debut of writer, director and star Pat Mills) is all about David's decision to bamboozle his way into a job he's not qualified for, but thinks will be perfect for him. Cribbing from a child psychologist YouTube guru, David lands a cushy dream job that will not only pay well, but give him a chance to help teenagers which, for utterly insane reasons, he believes he'll be good at. David Gold becomes the new Guidance Counsellor of Grusin High.

Think of a considerably thinner, more handsome, spiffily-attired and decidedly light-in-the-loafers Jack Black from School of Rock and it all adds up to one of the funniest, sweetest and wonkily outrageous low budget indie comedies you'll have seen in quite some time. David, however, is not an immediate success in his position and it's his approaches to providing guidance to win over his charges that allows for some of the biggest laughs. David eventually becomes the most popular teacher in the school, much to the ire and jealousy of his colleagues - save perhaps for the screamingly fruity gym teacher who keeps trying to out our denial-infused hero and, of course, partake of the "virgin" meat buffet David represents.

Even bigger laughs come from David's sensitivity.

You see, he's all about sharing - sharing wisdom, sharing advice and, uh, sharing booze and drugs. In no time, he actually becomes a very cool, fun and even able role model for the problem kids in the school. However, complications (albeit of the somewhat too predictable variety) arise and his journey is not all preaches and cream.

It is, however, a winner most of the way.

Mills has got terrific screen presence, generates a whole whack of crackling dialogue, elicits a clutch of vibrant performances from his talented, youthful cast and directs with snappiness and flare. At times the film's budget affects our total enjoyment since the movie is almost egregiously light in the population department. I think, though, that most audiences, as even I did, will excuse this niggling detail and just kick back and have one hell of a good time.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars

Guidance is enjoying its World Premiere in the Discovery section of the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival. Visit the TIFF website for fix, venues, times and dates by clicking HERE.

Friday, 5 September 2014

THE CAPTIVE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Creepy Egoyan Thriller exposes parental fears

The fetishization of our greatest fears
The Captive (2014)
Dir. Atom Egoyan
Script: David Fraser & Egoyan
Starring: Ryan Reynolds, Scott Speedman, Rosario Dawson, Mireille Enos, Kevin Durand, Christine Horne, Alexia Fast, Peyton Kennedy, Bruce Greenwood, Aaron Poole, Jason Blicker

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Spanning eight years in the life of Cassandra (Alexia Fast/Peyton Kennedy), a child kidnapped from her father Matthew's (Ryan Reynolds) car while he pops into a roadside bakery to bring home a treat, The Captive focuses upon both the Stockholm-Syndrome-like effects upon the girl and the devastation her disappearance wreaks upon the family and cops looking for some closure (positive or negative) to the mystery. It's subject matter that hits all the chords most of us want to eradicate from our world and as such, perfect material for the masterful Canadian filmmaker Atom Egoyan.

Egoyan's meticulously complex films have almost always been tinged with creepy thriller-like elements, darkly droll humour and deep humanity buried beneath layers of existential disconnect and deliberate puzzle-like manipulations of time and space. His superb 1999 adaptation of William Trevor's novel Felicia's Journey is still one of the best serial killer movies made in the last two decades. I'd even place it far above such fake "A"-picture studio exploitation items making thrills palatable to the mainstream like Silence of the Lambs and Se7en. Featuring Bob Hoskins' finest performance (ever) as Hilditch, the gastronomically-obsessed and even somewhat banal psychopath, Felicia's Journey struck me as being a kind of demented play on Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy as if that 70s classic had been pumped full of deliciously near-lethal doses of lovely lithium. It was sickeningly terrifying and oddly, deeply moving. I longed for Egoyan to make another thriller and even now wish he'd do nothing but thrillers or maybe even a flat-out horror.

The Captive is nothing if not downright shudder-inducing. Set against the overcast snow blanket of Southern Ontario's Niagara region, the film taps directly into every parent's greatest terror - the disappearance of a child without a single, solitary trace. It's a surefire starting point, but Egoyan and David Fraser's twisted, ominously fetishistic screenplay provides a solid framework for the film to go well beyond merely tapping into the fear everyone harbours. It's as much a genre picture of the highest order as it is a harrowing exploration of faith, family and the soul-sickening sense of hope that drives all those touched by the horrendous violence perpetrated against children.

The Captive's potential to anger audiences (especially, it seems, quite a few boneheaded, know-nothing film "critics") is not unlike that of Lars von Trier's AntiChrist (sans, of course, that film's genital mutilation). I feel strongly, though, that neither film seeks to intentionally raise ire, but rather, to dive into all sorts of places that most people simply don't want to go, places that are so necessary and vital to confront, grotesquely dark corners of existence to reflect upon and/or expose.

The Captive achieves this in two brilliant ways. First of all, Fraser and Egoyan set up a number of familiar narrative tropes of the thriller genre and give them a decidedly shaken, not stirred, quality. What's structurally mundane becomes extraordinarily abhorrent, creepily unnerving. Inherent in both the narrative and the aesthetic are the especially horrendous fetishistic qualities of perspective which place us as observers in the pain of the film's victims/subjects.

Visually and stylistically, Egoyan's rich compositions, supported by cinematographer Paul Sarossy's delicate shadings and painterly dappling of light capture the very essence of white-grey exteriors and the (mostly) clinical interiors. When the visual palette includes warmth, it comes in the unlikeliest of places like the psychopath's lair, the victim's prison, Nicole the cop's (Rosario Dawson) office and, of course, the roadside bakery which is where the horror really begins.

There's so much I admire about this movie. Ryan Reynolds continues to prove he's one of the great living actors and here he taps emotional depths he's yet to uncover - his despair is so palpable we can't help but walk in his shoes. Mychael Danna's score is a marvel - tapping both the moving power and jangling force of Bernard Herrmann. Witness the opening movements of the score - so lushly bucolic, but as the camera slowly reveals more and more snow and bush of the isolated setting, we hear ever-so slight tinges of unease. Then, of course, during moments of pulse-pounding suspense (two sequences during the film's climactic moments in particular had me rendering my fingertips to bloody, pulpy stubs), Danna slams us with everything he's got and then some.

Kevin Durand as the full-on sicko ringleader of an online community of pain-fetishists is slime-incarnate and there isn't a moment he's onscreen that we don't feel like vomiting. His performance is bravely in sharp contrast to Hoskins from Felicia's Journey where the late British bombast actually tapped into human aspects that allowed us to care for him. Durand does something even more difficult, he taps into humanity - and yes, it IS humanity - that we never hope to experience, but indeed exists. This is no Snidely Whiplash villain, but the kind of sick, venal, mind-numbingly banal and even pretentious evil that's finally more the reality of these sick freaks.

Though the film has its share of universal qualities, the manner with which Egoyan explores the dark-net subculture of predators is also rooted in truly indigenous qualities of Canadian culture. The country has long had a history of monsters infused with the vapid desires of such empty vessels as Bernardo-Homolka, Clifford Olson and, amongst many, many others, Dennis Melvin Howe. Unlike Hannibal Lecter, serial criminal psychopaths are not brilliant, they're petty, pretentious and boring.

This, for me, might be the scariest, most sickening element of The Captive. So much pain and wasted time in the lives decent people comes from the actions of a trite, haughty dullard. Thank Christ Egoyan shoves our faces in the faecal matter of this reality. Doing so manages to expose terrible truths and give us one hell of a thrilling ride.

The Captive is in theatrical release across the country via eOne.

Thursday, 4 September 2014

A HARD DAY (aka Kkeut-kka-ji-gan-da) - TIFF 2014 - (TIFF CITY TO CITY) - Review By Greg Klymkiw

This fellow
is having a harder day
than most.
A Hard Day (aka Kkeut-kka-ji-gan-da) (2014)
Dir. Kim Seong-hun
Starring: Lee Sun-kyun, Cho Jin-woong

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Have you ever have one of those days? You know the kind. We all have them. You're as boiled as a fucking owl on whatever rotgut you've chugged back before getting in your car to drive to the funeral parlour so you can deliver a fond farewell to your mother, laying stiff in her coffin, and then you hit some goddamn pedestrian, killing the bastard, and adding insult to injury, after tossing his sack of potatoes carcass in the trunk, you're stopped and hassled by a bunch of rookie traffic cops doing a spot check. It's a total piss-off, right?

Luckily, for Ko Gun-soo (Lee Sun-kyun) in Kim Seong-hun's A Hard Day, he gets a reprieve when the boneheaded tax-collectors-with-guns drop a few loads in their drawers upon discovering that he's a highly-placed detective within the Seoul police department.

Phew! He's on top of the world. For now.

Unfortunately, just as he's in the middle of a ceremony involving the nailing shut of Mom's coffin, he finds out about some mega-shit going down. A clutch of internal affairs dicks are onto his graft and high-tailing it to the funeral home to roust him. Now, he's gotta figure out some way to smuggle the corpse in his trunk into the funeral parlour and get it into his mother's coffin before the turncoats get there. Adding insult to injury, his partners want him to take the fall, the pedestrian he killed is a notorious made-man in the Korean mafia and he's eventually assigned to investigate the disappearance of said gangster.

This is going to be a hard day, indeed.

For us, Ko Gun-soo's troubles mount exponentially and we're treated to one of the most suspenseful, brutal and funny Asian crime thrillers in many a day. Director Kim Seong-hun displays a taut command of cinematic language to keep us sliding off the edge of our seats and both the action and laughs come fast and furious. Even more extraordinary is the perverse likability of this nasty piece of work for a hero. Granted he's Jesus Christ incarnate compared to the other filth around him, so that we're allowed to root for the least egregious wad of crap is some kind of miracle.

Reminiscent of Jon Finch's accused murderer Blaney in Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy Ko Gin-soo just can't seem to get a break. His troubles pile up so insurmountably that we're hoping against all hope that he gets out of the various sticky wickets assailing him. The movie puts us directly in his shoes and as such, we can't help but marvel at director Kim Seong-hun's complex and downright dazzling approach to the material.

I'd like to say that Hollywood would do well to pay attention to these extraordinary Asian masters of art, craft and genre, but the reality is this: all that's going to happen is the crapping out of more lifeless American remakes of Asian movies directed by round-eyed losers with eyes made of tin.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***½ Three-and-a-half Stars

A Hard Day is in the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2014) City to City program. Visit the TIFF website for tickets and further info HERE.

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

IT FOLLOWS - TIFF 2014 (TIFF Midnight Madness) - Review By Greg Klymkiw


IT is transmitted sexually. IT follows. IT kills.
It Follows (2014)
Dir. David Robert Mitchell
Starring: Maika Monroe, Keir Gilchrist, Daniel Zovatto, Jake Weary, Olivia Luccardi, Lili Sepe

Review By Greg Klymkiw

It's early morning magic hour. A stately home rests quietly in a leafy suburb. The front door bursts open. A babe in her undies races outside, her melons bobbling. In no time at all, she'll be found horribly mutilated. Dead, in fact. Granted, we're in Detroit, one of the most poverty-stricken, crime-ridden and decrepit cities in America, but this grotesque sequence has played out in a bucolic setting, far away from the urban blight.

What gives?

Well, after this shocking preamble to David Robert Mitchell's It Follows, we meet our heroine Jay (Maika Monroe) and in no time we find out exactly what the deal is. She too lives in a 'burb o' Detroit and when she goes on a date with a hot hunk, she's so charmed, she hops into the back seat of his car, tosses off her panties and lets him deliver one right royal solid boning. As our babe lolls about in post-coital bliss, the hunk goes to the trunk to retrieve something. When he returns, he smothers the scantily clad missy with a chloroform-soaked rag. When she wakes up, he's got her strapped into a wheelchair - in her undies, 'natch. He forces her to look at something and what he shows her is so jaw-agape ghastly she can't quite believe her gorgeous eyes as she trains her gaze at IT.

Make no mistake, IT is real, alright, and now, IT is after her. According to the stud-hunk, the only way to get rid of IT is to pass IT on through sexual intercourse. He offers Jay a bit of solace when he says that IT should be no problem for her to pass on since, she's a girl and most any red-blooded male will want to nail her. Once she convinces her friends that she's cursed, they all make like Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and Scooby-Doo to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Delightfully enough, the notion of passing on the curse sexually allows for some added boinkage in addition to the carnage and shock-til-you-jump jolts. And, of course, the movie gives us IT.

IT is a formidable supernatural villain. If this is the first thing you've read about the movie, read no other reviews, puff pieces and any other literature which might provide TMI. It's a lot scarier, creepier and deliciously perverse if you go in without knowing anything more than this - IT follows you constantly and IT will kill you if IT catches you. If this happens, the curse reverts to afflicting the entire line of boinkers who've preceded you.

Though the movie doesn't quite go into the sickeningly, darkly hilarious territory of David Cronenberg's Shivers (which also featured a sexually transmitted horror), It Follows is a solidly directed shocker with plenty of homages to John Carpenter's output from the late 70s to early 80s. If Mitchell's screenplay is, save for its supremely original "villain", a bit too reliant on well-worn tropes of the genre, his filmmaking is both dazzling and assured. He's the real thing. He handles the proceedings with great style, visual flourish and far more intelligence than your run-of-the-mill horror-fest. Then again, it also has what any horror movie needs - babes, root-slipping and killing.

We even get some scary sojourns into the downtown decrepitude of Detroit. This stuff in the abandoned Detropia of Motor City is so creepy, one almost wishes most of it were set there. If Mitchell generates a sequel, maybe, just maybe, he'll oblige us. As someone who loves a good horror picture and having been conceived in Detroit, I, for one, can hardly wait. My drool is dripping and pooling up like the thick, crimson rivers of blood which permeate the ever-so-delightful It Follows.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars

It Follows enjoys a bang-up TIFF 2014 launch during the spectacularly fun Colin Geddes-programmed series Midnight Madness. For tickets, dates, venues and showtimes, visit the TIFF website HERE. The movie is being distributed in Canada by Mongrel Media.

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THE EQUALIZER (WORLD PREMIERE TIFF 2014 - TIFF GALA) - Review By Greg Klymkiw


Sometimes a peaceful man must
KILL RUSSIANS!
The Equalizer (2014)
Dir. Antoine Fuqua
Scr. Richard Wenk
Starring: Denzel Washington, Marton Csokas, Chloë Grace Moretz, David Harbour, Bill Pullman, Melissa Leo, David Meunier, Haley Bennett, Allen Maldonado, Dan Bilzerian

Review By Greg Klymkiw

If you're going to make a movie about a retired CIA intelligence operative (Denzel Washington, sporting a nicely-shaved pate), living a quality life of mega-Zen-O-Rama in Boston, hanging out nightly in a quaint greasy spoon wherein he reads classic literature recommended to him by his now-dead wife, befriending a sweet teenage whore (Chloë Grace Moretz) "owned" by the Russian Mob, but who could be the daughter he never had, save for the parts where she spreads her legs for a myriad of gross clients and suffers savage beatings at the hands of her despicable Putin-like pimp, then, my friends, if your movie revolves around a man such as this, it is absolutely imperative that you give this lethal, morally incorruptible gent a job in a big box Home Depot-like store since sooner or later, he's going to take out the entire Russkie criminal underworld and it will be ever-so helpful (for him) and delightful (for us) when he's forced to kill a mess o' bad guys by utilizing what one normally finds in such insanely expansive shopping oases: various tools, hammers, drills, saws and (my favourite). . .

NAIL GUNS.

The mind boggles.

Well, as derivative as Richard Wenk's still-efficient screenplay proves to be, director Antoine Fuqua (Training Day) runs with the sturdy coat hanger handed to him by the aforementioned scribe and offers up a genuinely great macho-man action film that dazzles with a perfectly-pitched directorial style and skill-level to put all the hacks and poseurs who can't direct action to complete and utter shame.

Fuqua knows exactly where to place his camera, holds nicely on wide shots that display rigorous fight choreography of the finest pedigree and only uses mediums, closeups and cuts when he needs to for the purposes of rendering dramatic beats. Wenk even allows for a Quentin Tarantino rip-off, which is, in fact, a rip-off of many films before the crime-loving auteur began to employ the delicious technique of endless dialogue twixt opposing forces and eventually exploding into the most mind-blowing extremities of violence imaginable.

Fuqua's picture is so well directed that all the cliches and rip-offs are water off a duck's back. It's first-rate entertainment which allows Denzel Washington the opportunity to rescue Chloë Grace Moretz and put a dent in the Mob's business dealings to a point where a vicious trouble-shooter from the Old Country sails into town with an endless supply of assassins who Denzel is allowed to dispatch - one after another, and in ways that might make even the most Liberal of audiences buy the rabid anti-Russia propaganda hook, line and sinker.

Vaguely based on the 80s cult TV show, this has "action franchise" written all over it. That's all well and good, but I'd love to see Fuqua direct Washington in a movie that actually had a great script a la the dirty 70s practitioners of violent existential male angst. I doubt we'll find it in a franchise, but for now, I'll hold fast onto the pleasures The Equalizer delivers and dreamily imagine a day when I see a movie truly worthy of these two supremely gifted men.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars

The Equalizer enjoys its Gala world premiere at TIFF 2014 and will be released by Sony Pictures.

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Tuesday, 2 September 2014

ADIEU AU LANGAGE (GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE) - TIFF 2014 - Review By Greg Klymkiw


Adieu Au Langage AKA Goodbye To Language (2014)
Dir. Jean-Luc Godard
Starring: Héloise Godet, Zoe Bruneau, Kamel Abdelli, Richard Chevalier, Jessica Erickson, Alexandre Païta, Dimitri Basil, Jeremy Zampatti, Isabelle Carbonneau, Gino Siconolfi

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Jean-Luc Godard figured out a long time ago that a good way to cram as much socio-political nonsense, obtuse plotting and general artsy-fartsy wanking into his films, and still get them released whilst inspiring critics to gush Bukake-like all over his face, was to cram in as many scantily clad or preferably buck-nekkid babes into them as possible. This isn't to say his early output bored and/or annoyed me to the point of inducing anal fissures where the sun don't quite shine for me, but for the latter half of his career, Godard has been full of that stuff he expunges from his hoary, wrinkled orifice de fèces. His new movie, Adieu au langage, is so pungently aromatic of said substance corporelle d'expulsion that sitting in a theatre watching it feels like being in a sewage treatment plant when the intake valves are opened wide.

And it's in 3-D, no less.

However, I'll give Godard a bit more credit here since he has, in addition to inserting plenty o' ganders of a major babe of the French persuasion in various states of dress and undress, but he's brilliantly come up with a recurring image to warm the cockles of pseuds everywhere so they can proclaim Godard is infusing the work with spirit and humanity (as opposed to nonsense). Yes! Godard gives us nudity galore, but he also delights us with endless shots of a cute dog. For all I know, the dog is probably his and he had enough home movie footage so he wouldn't actually have to shoot as much. After all, the movie is plenty lengthy to begin with at a whopping 70 minutes.

So what do we get for our troubles of keeping our eyelids open with toothpicks? Plenty, brother. Let me tell you, plenty. There are a whack of titles and inter titles on top of each other which look ultra-groovy in 3-D. Not only that, but they are THOUGHT-PROVOKING. One of the first blasts of titles we get is - WAIT FOR IT - "Those lacking in imagination take refuge in reality if non-thought contaminates thought." I guess he might be referring to me here. It's okay, Jean-Luc. I'm taking it with a grain of salt.

Get this: soon after the aforementioned declaration, the word "3-D" in thick red letters appears over simple white on black letters that read "2-D" and underneath that, a glob of colour that seems gloriously prismatic or, in fact, is an out of focus medal. Or something. Cosmic, man! Layers of language, meaning and colour are all blended together in eye-popping glory. And soon after, we get one of the first shots of the cute dog who, by the way, appears to be providing the voice-over narration in addition to a whole whack of other voices who could well be people we see on-screen and/or Godard himself.

Good one, Jean-Luc. You've got me scratching my noggin big time over that.

Of course, he also provides inter-titles to tell us what each segment of the film we'll be dealing with. Yes, this is very important, just in case we don't get, for example, that the first thematic concern of the film will be: "LA NATURE" (in simple white on black, but with a huge, thick, red-coloured "1" on top of it). The movie is full of these provocative signposts. He throws us one jump cut after another, one canted composition after another, plenty of old news footage and old movie clips, some old dude going on about Solzhenitsyn and Dostoyevsky, plenty of lamentations about the physical properties of books in juxtaposition with seeing language on smart phones, a passel of claustrophobic shots of the aforementioned naked babe AND as a special bonus, her naked hubby while they yammer on endlessly about God-knows-whatever philosophical ruminating Godard is concerned with.

One of my favourite 'tête–à–têtes includes the naked man taking a crap (replete with the plop-plop sound effects) as he and the naked babe talk about, God knows what. And just so we're not too claustrophobic, he inserts plenty of shots of leaves, trees, flowers, sky, butterflies and, of course the DOG, our (I think) narrator.

And at the halftime, we appear to get an older couple yammering on. I assume it's the same couple, but who knows? Maybe it isn't. Maybe it doesn't really matter. From time to time, you see, we get shots of a bathtub spattered with varying degrees of blood and at one point shots of a paint brush mixing paint and someone offscreen yammering about the properties of watercolours. Is someone murdered? Is it art? I think so. What I do know FOR SURE is that Godard treats us to an absolutely horrendous recreation of Mary Shelley, Percy Shelley and Lord Byron on the night "Frankenstein" was written, though the whole sequence takes place outdoors with awful costumes and in broad daylight. I do believe it is Jean-Luc's intent for this sequence to be dreadful.

Finally, though, we run out of nudity and news footage and movie clips and philosophy and we're left, simply, and beautifully with the cute dog. He sleeps silently, dreaming, no doubt of getting the hell out of this movie.

We cut to black. Over the end titles, we hear a baby. The circle of life is complete. We can leave the theatre. I think. No, I stay anyway, just in case Godard has tossed in a few segments from a gag reel.

Adieu au langage, indeed.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: (IF YOU ARE STONED): ***** Five Stars
THE FILM CORNER RATING: (IF YOU ARE NOT STONED): * One Star

Adieu au langage plays during TIFF 2014 in TIFF Masters.

DRAGON INN (TIFF 2014 - TIFF CINEMATHEQUE) - Review By Greg Klymkiw


Beware sneaky, sword-wielding EUNUCHS!!!
Dragon Inn (1967)
Dir. King Hu
Starring: Bai Ying, Miao Tien, Han Ying-chieh, Shih Chun, Cho Kin, Hsieh Han

Review By Greg Klymkiw

In the middle of nowhere lies the last outpost before the border, a godforsaken hellhole called the Dragon Gate Inn. This is where political exiles are banished to during the Ming Dynasty of ancient China. When the cruel Emperor executes one of his officials, the unfortunate's family are booted out of town and sent packing to the ends of the earth. Sadly, exile isn't their only problem since the big bad ruler has sent a nasty eunuch to spy on them and eventually effect their deathly eradication from the planet.

Like some mad kung-fu spaghetti western, a whole passel of deadly killers descend upon the Inn and we're treated to intrigue and action.

King Hu was one of the grand masters of cinema and his masterpiece Dragon Inn was recently afforded a gorgeous 4K digital restoration - all the better to take in the sumptuous vistas, cleverly composed (and designed) interiors and the astounding choreography and direction of some of the most stirring sword fights and hand-to-hand combat ever wrought within martial arts movies. Hu's frame is always lively, his moves masterful and his sense of spatial geography always dead-on.

Here you'll have the opportunity to witness a director at the peak of his considerable powers, working in tandem with ace choreographer and action helmer Han Ying-chieh. Between the two of them, Dragon Inn is one of the most thrilling martial arts pictures of all time.

This is a film which influenced Tsui Hark, John Woo, Jacky Chan, Ang Lee, Zhang Yimou and yes, Quentin Tarantino. It's a classic in all respects. Best of all, it feels like it could have been made yesterday.

The skill and technique on display has not dated one single, solitary bit and you'll constantly be catching your breath, doing double takes and needing to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. And even though it feels as modern as all get-out in terms of its movie-making sophistication and savvy, the fact truly remains that they actually don't make 'em like this anymore.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** 4-Stars

DRAGON INN is a special TIFF CINEMATHEQUE presentation at TIFF 2014. The 4K Digital restoration is by the Chinese Taipei Film Archive at L’Immagine Ritrovata laboratory in Bologna from the original negative. The film's cinematographer Hui-ying Hua personally supervised the colour grading. For further info, visit the TIFF website HERE.

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OCTOBER GALE - TIFF 2014 (Special Presentation) - Review By Greg Klymkiw - A great movie for steno-girls, retail clerks and 70-year-old grandmothers looking for cheap thrills on cable TV.

A great movie for
steno-girls,
retail clerks
and 70-year-old

grandmothers
looking for
cheap thrills
on cable TV
October Gale (2014)
Dir. Rubba Nadda
Starring: Patricia Clarkson, Scott Speedman, Tim Roth, Aidan Devine, Callum Keith Rennie

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I went to see this knowing only the title and that its start time was when I had nothing else to see. Usually, this is perfect. Knowing nothing about what you're going to see at a film festival can yield great treats. However, I knew I was in for trouble when the picture started in black with one sole, sombre note plunked on a piano.

Ugh!

When this happens, I usually think, "Oh fuck, another Canadian movie with a crappy piano score." No sooner did the next keyboard plop resonate in my auricular cavities when the soul-sucking credit "Produced with the participation of Telefilm Canada" did spew, like a spray of chunky regurgitate on-screen. Though the opening score continued with a bit more variety of piano plunking, it sounded like something rendered by a Ferrante and Teicher tribute artist on a HiFi LP in the $1 bin at a used record store.

Luckily, things began looking a bit better when the gorgeous and great Patricia Clarkson appeared as a recently widowed doctor heading up to her Northern Ontario island cottage on majestic Georgian Bay to open it up for the spring. Alas, the first 15 minutes is devoted to more Ferrante & Teicher homages as she cleans the cottage, puts dead hubby's clothing into storage, takes a boat ride and - ugh - launches into sickening flashback mode wherein we learn how much she loved now-dead hubby (Callum Keith Rennie).

I thought to myself, "Oh Jesus! Is this going to be some Harlequin Romance where she meets a hunky rural guy and falls in love with him?" Luckily, her boat goes all sputter-sputter and she calls in a distress signal to the local boat repair guy. He retrieves her boat, tells her it's going to take a few days to fix and dumps her back at the isolated island. Alone, 'natch!

Briefly I'm thinking, "Hmmmm, a hot babe alone on an island. Maybe we're going to get a throwback to 70s Canadian tax shelter thrillers and she'll be assailed by some country cousin psychopaths and have to kill them all as revenge for being gang-raped." Though there's been nothing to suggest we're going into thriller territory I'm momentarily fooled that this might be a fairly clever script that's setting us up for one thing (potential Harlequin Romance) and delivering another (the great Canadian tax shelter rape revenge thriller Death Weekend).

Soon after these delights danced across my cerebellum, Patricia Clarkson's lovely breasts are revealed in a bathtub scene.

I'm stoked.

Fooled me, again. The movie is essentially a Harlequin Romance cross-pollinated with an extremely lame, poorly executed thriller. Hunky Scott Speedman shows up on her dock, bleeding and near death from a gunshot wound. As Clarkson is a doctor she patches him up really well. At one point he gets up from bed and his pants are so low-riding that we get a nice glimpse of Speedman's upper butt cheeks and ass crack.

Can romance be far behind?

Aidan Devine, one of Canada's greatest character actors is wasted when he shows up as a friendly local. When he buggers off, Speedman is terrified. He informs Clarkson that when Devine comes back, he's going to be joined by a super-bad dude and they're both going to be dead. Good gracious!

When Devine does pop back, a semi-smarmy Tim Roth is in tow. He's hell-bent on killing Speedman for one of the stupidest reasons imaginable (I won't ruin it for you). Roth works hard enough that we can ascertain he's been paid upfront to sleepwalk through his dull role and the film delivers a few minutes of incompetently helmed suspense that might have my mother (and other 70-year-old suburban women looking for a thrill on cable) on the edge of her seat. That said, I'm sure it will also appeal to more than a few steno-girls, retail clerks and middle-aged empty-nest housewives.

How and why (aside from marginal marquee value) the filmmakers bothered to waste money on Tim Roth when the great Aidan Devine could have outacted the shit out of him is something that briefly haunted me. Even more pressing a question is this: How in God's name this movie ever landed a Special Presentation berth at one of the world's most prestigious film festivals is almost beyond me. I say "almost" because it does have Patricia Clarkson, Scott Speedman and Tim Roth in it and its picture postcard cinematography delivers enough production value to look professional on a big screen, but other than that, it's a nothing movie aimed at an under-served demographic. I've personally seen several fine low budget Canadian thrillers and horror films made this year - any of which display more thrills and virtuosity in one frame than October Gale possesses throughout its short, but still lugubriously interminable running time.

Ah well, if you fit the aforementioned demographic, go ahead. Knock yourself out. Steno-girls, retail clerks, middle-aged empty-nest housewives and 70-year-old ladies deserve movies too.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: LOWEST FILM CORNER RATING:

Delivered to films too bad to garner one-star (*). Said films would normally then receive the "One Pubic Hair" rating, however, not to besmirch the fine pubic hair recipient Sharknado by lumping it in (so to speak) with genuine turds, I was forced to create a critical rating even lower for Ridley Scott's abominable The Counsellor.

The Rating is, quite simply and evocatively:

"TURD DISCOVERED BEHIND
HARRY'S CHAR BROIL AND DINING LOUNGE".

As pictured to the left, this an actual turd found by myself and Project Grizzly filmmaker Peter Lynch in the illustrious Parkdale parking lot behind Harry's wherein the two of us had just dined with writer Geoff Pevere. Recipients of this hallowed rating since Scott's atrocity have been the wretched 2014 remake of Endless Love, the putrid Veronica Mars movie, the stinking Dead Before Dawn 3D and the horrendous 2014 Godzilla.

Now, please feel free to add: October Gale to the aforementioned list of recipients of this most appalling critical rating which will, one hopes, seal the work's fate in some manner of infamy.


October Gale is playing at the Toronto International Film Festival 2014 as a Special Presentation. For tix, dates and showtimes, visit the TIFF website by clicking HERE. It will be distributed in Canada via Pacific Northwest Pictures.

Monday, 1 September 2014

IN HER PLACE - TIFF 2014 (TIFF Discovery) - Review By Greg Klymkiw

A daughter, whose child can never be hers.
A mother, whose daughter is everything.
A woman who has come between them.
A baby that binds all three for eternity.
In Her Place (2014)
Dir. Albert Shin
Script: Shin
& Pearl Ball-Harding
Prods. Igor Drljaca, Yoon Hyun Chan & Shin
Starring: Yoon Da Kyung, Ahn Ji Hye, Kil Hae Yeon, Kim Sung Cheol, Kim Chang Hwan

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Now and again, I find myself seeing a movie that feels so perfect, so lacking in anything resembling a single false note and so affecting on every level that I'm compelled to constantly pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. In Her Place, enjoying its World Premiere at the 2014 edition of the Toronto International Film Festival is a dream, but most decidedly of the dream-come-true variety. This is exactly the sort of film that restores my faith in the poetic properties of cinema and how the simplest of tales, at their surface, allow its artists to dig deep and yield the treasures inherent in the picture's soul. When a film is imbued with an inner spirit as this one is, you know you're watching something that hasn't been machine-tooled strictly for ephemeral needs. In Her Place is a film about yearning, love and the extraordinary tears and magic that are borne out of the company and shared experience of women. And, it is exquisite.

A childless couple nearing the early stages of middle-age, cut a private deal to adopt outside the purview of an official agency, which, they're convinced, will be the ideal no-muss-no-fuss arrangement. The Wife (Yoon Da-kyung), having been previously afflicted with serious health issues, especially wants the world to think she's the biological birth-mother of the adopted newborn.

She and her Husband (Kim Kyung Ik) concoct a cover for friends and family that she's waiting out her pregnancy in America instead of Seoul. In reality, she's not left South Korea at all and is staying on an isolated farm. Her hosts are The Mother (Kil Hae-yeon), widowed and forced to run the sprawling acreage on her own and her daughter, a shy, pregnant teenage Girl (Ahn Ji-hye). For a substantial sum, this financially needy rural family agrees to give up the baby to the well-to-do couple from the big city. The Wife stays in modest digs originally meant for onsite farmhands while her Husband returns to Seoul to work. From here, she can maintain the optics of being away from home during pregnancy but also take an active role in nurturing the young lady carrying "her" child. The arrangement seems too good to be true and sure enough, complications slowly surface and threaten to scuttle an otherwise perfect plan.

In Her Place is director Albert Shin's stunning sophomore feature-length outing. Working with co-writer Pearl Ball-Harding and co-producer Igor Drljaca (director of 2012's dazzling Krivina and Shin's old York University film school pal and partner in their company TimeLapse Pictures), Shin and Drljaca seem to have pulled off another miracle in the relatively short life of their seemingly perfect partnership. Evocatively photographed by Moon Myoung Hwan, wrenchingly and beautifully scored by Alexandre Klinke, featuring a cast as perfect as any director (or audience) would want and edited by Shin himself with the pace and deep sensitivity that's reminiscent of a Robert Bresson film, you'll experience as haunting and touching a film as any of the very best that have been wrought. This is great filmmaking, pure and simple.

What I love about this movie, aside from its emotional content, is just how Shin trusts in the beautiful writing and employs a mise-en-scène that allows his actors to inhabit the frame (always perfectly composed) for the kind of maximum impact that can come from holding steady on narrative action and only cutting when absolutely necessary to spin things forward in subtle ways - parcelling out information so that we are allowed to take in both information and the affecting layers of very palpable impression and subtext.

A perfect example of Shin's assured direction occurs right off the top. The film opens with a fade up from black into a perfectly composed fixed shot of a well-worn gravel road. Flanked by lush, green trees, an unassuming, slightly worn farmhouse sits deep in the centre background, while a car makes its way into the frame and moves with purpose onto the property. All is swathed in a strange grey light from the overcast sky and as the car reaches a halfway point on the road, Shin cuts to place us in a reverse as the vehicle comes even closer to the house. It's as if the point of view was not so much from that of a character, or even from the inanimate house as if it were personified, but rather taking the perspective of an omnipresent observer. This won't be the first time Shin delivers such a POV. From this point and onwards, he allows us, the audience to participate with a kind of fly-on-the-wall scrutiny.

This second shot of the film is masterful on several important fronts.

In both the writing and staging, the camera lets action play out in the time it takes and in so doing, always keeps us guessing (in all the right ways) as to who is in the car, who the people are once we meet them as they exit the vehicle, get an immediate sense of character from how the two people are positioned in the frame and also by their actions and finally, a very subtle dolly back as the two characters move forward and encounter a sweet, friendly, but sad-eyed dog, chained next to an empty food bowl as it observes the visitors.

This image of a chained dog resonates incalculably as the film progresses.

Another important element here is that these two people become identifiable as a married couple because the shot takes its time and is so perfectly blocked. Even more extraordinarily, the shot allows enough time for one of the people to notice something in the distance and move towards it before the next cut.

This entire shot is a brave and bold stroke so early in the proceedings. The shot lasts for two minutes of screen time, setting the mood, tone and pace of how the tale will unfold, but also establishing how we, as viewers, are observers. And we are not passive viewers. It's as if we were actually in the frame, unseen by the characters, but participants in the narrative nevertheless, almost complicit in the actions of the story. Complicity is indeed a key thematic element at play in the film and Shin does not let us off the hook.

Finally, though, the shot also gives us the sense that this will be the story of The Husband. He is, after all, the most active half of the couple. This is essential at this point, especially since we soon find ourselves within an interior shot set back from a table where the Husband, his back to us, continues to be the most active character in terms of his domination of the conversation and by his declarative statements regarding the heat and stuffiness of the interior.

The notion of being able to breathe, to feel the sort of freedom this natural, rural environment should inspire, to not be hemmed in by circumstance, a lack of communication and/or connection to the outside world is also an element that is established and will reverberate throughout the film with great force.

The other vital component here is that the position of the camera allows us to see all three women very clearly. Though their interaction seems tentative compared to that of the husband, the very length of the shot allows Shin to establish trinity between these women and we're soon plunged into their story - which ultimately, the film is. The Husband seems a mere appendage or, if you will, the chauffeur. He gets his wife there, he even gets us there, but when his job is done, he's dispensed with save for a few key moments later on wherein he still, strangely, feels more like an instrument of mere conveyance.

The dynamic between these three women is so powerful, so telling and finally, so devastating, that Shin's subtle control of his film is at once invisible and yet always present because we are where we have to be for every single emotional and narrative beat.

In Her Place so quietly rips our hearts to shreds. We are included in the emotional journeys of a daughter whose child can never be hers, a mother whose daughter is everything to her but comes to this realization when it's too late and a woman who has come between them because her own desire to love and nurture is so strong and true.

Finally, it's all about a baby - a new life that binds all three women for what will be an eternity.

This is a great picture. See it.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars

In Her Place enjoys its World Premiere at the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival. For tickets, dates, venues and showtimes, be sure to visit the TIFF website HERE.

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99 HOMES - Review By Greg Klymkiw - TIFF 2014 Special Presentation

99 Homes (2014)
Dir. Ramin Bahrani
Starring: Andrew Garfield, Michael Shannon, Laura Dern, Tim Guinee

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Michael Shannon (Bug, Take Shelter, My Son My Son What Have Ye Done) is such a great actor, I'd be happy to watch him sitting on the throne George-Kuchar-like and reading aloud from the backs of shampoo bottles a la Woody Harrelson in the Farrelly Brothers' Kingpin as he takes a comfy, cozy and lengthy dump. For some reason, I had a hard time getting this out of my mind at about the half-way point of Ramin Bahrani's 99 Homes.

It's not that there's anything especially wrong with the movie to inspire this nagging image upon my cerebellum, but at a certain point, the screenplay by Bahrani and co-writers Amir Naderi, Bahareh Azimi seemed to be treading such predictable, familiar waters that I realized I'd ultimately need to concentrate on simply enjoying Shannon in the role of a despicable realtor who specializes in foreclosing upon the homes of Americans who've been unlucky enough to get caught up in the housing crisis of the new century.

Shannon is always impossible to not watch, but when he's delivered a role, as he has here, which is essentially a humungous cut of prime, delicious steak, he's enthralling beyond all belief.

As Rick Carver, the hatchet man for banks who've placed ordinary Americans in the dire straights of multiple mortgages, Shannon is Mephistophelean as all get out. His wide, expressive eyes, his thin lips, the face which is Buster-Keaton blank until he opens and/or purses his thin lips to reveal sinister cheek-creases are all the stuff adding up to a relentlessly methodical businessman who'll stop at nothing to evict families, buy their homes for next-to-zero from the banks, renovate them as economically as possible and then flip the suckers for huge profits.

Such then is the central relationship within 99 Homes. Carver is repossessing the family home of the youthful, unemployed handyman Dennis Nash (Andrew Garfield, far more acceptable in the role of a proletarian rather than the horrendous turns he's delivered in the Spider-Man reboots). The home has been mortgaged up the wahzoo by his Mom Lynn (Laura Dern) and he's forced to relocate her (as well as himself and his kids) and what few possessions they can get onto a truck into a sleazoid motel crammed with other families in the same boat. You'd think these normal Americans were living in some John Steinbeck novel and/or Third World country, but no, they're pretty much living like a vast majority of Americans these days.

Carver, however, recognizes both a spark and hunger in Nash's eyes and offers him a job on his renovation team with the offer of potentially returning the family home to him. Nash takes to the work like a bat out of frigging Hell and soon he's moved up into the role of a foreclosure agent.

It's fun and compelling to watch a relatively realistic portrayal of a scumbag and even more fun to see the youthful proletarian slide into the same shoes. Alas, where can a story like this really go, though? Hence my occasional mind-wandering at the halfway point as SOMEONE lets his CONSCIENCE get the better of him. Yes, things settle in rather predictably, but the performances are never less than first-rate and director Bahrani keeps it all moving at a decent enough clip.

Whaddya gonna do? What ails 99 Homes is the same thing that befell even Oliver Stone's Wall Street. Still, the potential to celebrate scumbaggery is always worth exploring. Unfortunately, too many films only take you so far down that path until a comeuppance for the said scumbags seems all too inevitable. I know where a film like this in the 70s might have gone, but sadly, we don't live in the 70s anymore.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars

99 Homes is a Special Presentation at TIFF 2014. For more info, visit the TIFF website HERE.

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MR. TURNER (TIFF 2014 - TIFF SPECIAL PRESENTATION) - Review By Greg Klymkiw


Mr. Turner
Dir. Mike Leigh
Starring: Timothy Spall, Dorothy Atkinson, Marion Bailey, Paul Jesson, Lesley Manville, Martin Savage, Joshua McGuire, Ruth Sheen, David Horovitch, Karl Johnson

Review By Greg Klymkiw

It seems fitting that the first film biography of the great Romantic landscape painter JMW Turner, oft-referred to as "the painter of light", is the product of one of the world's greatest living directors, Mike Leigh (Life is Sweet, Naked, Secrets & Lies, Vera Drake, Topsy-Turvy).

The exquisite properties of light in cinema, the glorious dance of film through a projector, the astonishing grace, promise and amalgamation of so many mediums into one, all driven by exposing and rendering the luminosity which, Turner proclaimed on his deathbed as God itself, is what yields this astonishing, moving celebration of a supremely important visual artist.

In a sense, Turner captured the qualities of light and motion on canvas in ways I always felt are what led to those same properties finding their way to be emblazoned forever upon celluloid to capture the heart, soul and visual radiance of illumination, of nature, of life itself. Not unlike insects drawn to amber to be sealed and preserved for all time, Turner's brilliance was creating work that could live forever and inform all visual arts. In his own way, he might well have had the soul of a filmmaker if technology had somehow moved its way up to meet him halfway. Thankfully, we have Turner's legacy of genius, and now we have Mike Leigh's glorious film.

Mr. Turner is perfection incarnate. It is so magnificent that one cannot imagine a greater testament to an artist and his art. Leigh captures a man, an aesthetic movement, a time of ideas and exploration and ultimately, he creates the means by which we can transport ourselves to an era where the sky was the limit with a simple, but deeply felt brush stroke.

Beginning with Turner (Timothy Spall) in middle age and continuing to his death, Mike Leigh pulls off the near-impossible in capturing what being a great artist is. Making use of a myriad of sumptuously-composed tableaux through the lens of cinematographer Dick Pope, Leigh gives us a glimpse into the process that defines artistry, but also allows us a fly on the wall perspective of what indeed might have made this great man thrive. Most wondrously, Leigh achieves this by cinematically recreating and/or imagining both Turner's work and what precisely the great artist could well have seen with his own eyes to inspire his breathtaking visions on canvas.

We delight in numerous scenes of Turner creating, socializing amongst the rich and famous, sparring with other artists and various intelligentsia of England's literary, critical, academic and artistic elite and most of all, Leigh provides us with a deeply felt and meticulously researched film that allows us to experience, at least from Leigh's considered eye, what made Turner tick as a human being. On one hand, he valued a Bohemian lifestyle, while on the other, was able to traverse with considerable freedom due to his wealth and fame. And much as we might crave a wholly sentimental portrait, Leigh fleshes Turner out, warts and all.

Turner eschews his duties as a father to the daughters born from an affair earlier in life and furthermore treats his long-toiling maid servant as a sexual receptacle for his gropings and loin-thrusts, in spite of the mounting ravages of psoriasis which wrack her body. Conversely, hs eals shown to be a man infused with great romance and tenderness, especially in his relations with a widow who at first provides him with seaside lodgings and eventually, a bed to share. Even more passionately, Turner is revealed to bear congenial familiarity and the deepest love for his father, a former barber and now his personal assistant and manager. Turner's connection to his father seems to know no earthly bounds and we both feel and believe it with the same conviction that leads our jaws to drop when he displays utter disregard and contempt for the mother of his illegitimate daughters.

This whole tale unravels in an unconventional manner which makes us think we're on board a solid narrative engine, thrusting ever forward, but in reality, we're cascading on a near-poetic series of vignettes, an episodic odyssey of an artist during one of his richest periods. It is Turner's discoveries as an artist that really carry us along, but the creative vessel, in spite of the occasional pock marks of selfishness and self-graitification in Turner, is also replete with humanity and we experience the man's ever-increasing love for life just as he's also at a point where he begins to sense his own mortality.

The pace of Leigh's film is leisurely, but never less than fascinating. He creates a world of so far away, so long ago, yet there is no fairy tale quality at play here, but rather an acute sense of time and place, so much so that we feel like the proceedings are rooted in a strict adherence to reality and historical accuracy. This, of course, is not to suggest there is no magic since Leigh conjures scene after scene which dazzles us with the sheer magic inherent in the way in which people must have lived. The dialogue and conversations, the drawing room and parlour discussions, the gorgeous, heart-achingly beautiful slowness of life, all unfold in a manner to allow both audience and characters to take in every moment and breath along the way. It is a pace perfectly in keeping with a world we'll never experience, but that we can participate in as viewers and get an overall sense of the pieces of Turner's time which Leigh captures so indelibly for our benefit.

There isn't a single false note in any of the exquisite performances. Even background extras live and breathe with the stuff of both humanity and fully-fleshed character. Though the pleasures from all principal and supporting players are almost incalculable, the film finally belongs to the astonishing Timothy Spall as Turner. Delightfully gruff, curmudgeonly, jowly and turtle-paced in everything, lest he spies a natural beauty of the world which ramps up his facial and physical gestures well beyond his normal demeanour, are just a few of the extraordinary feats of acting Spall offers. But Leigh has made a film of the deepest humanity and so too does Spall render his performance. There are moments in Spall's performance which will never, ever leave you. One of the greatest of these sequences is a look of despair Spall creates for Turner as his father dies before him. It's a look that blends sobs and laughs, tears and a crazed toothy smile and a sense that we are witnessing a man who becomes all too aware of life's dichotomous properties.

And yet, there is always the light, the glorious light. How appropriate then that Leigh begins and ends his film with the Sun in all its splendour. How, in a film that's all about light, could it ever be anything else?

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars

Mr. Turner plays as a Special Presentation at TIFF 2014 and will be released in Canada via Mongrel Media.

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THE DROP (TIFF 2014 - WORLD PREMIERE - TIFF SPECIAL PRESENTATION) - Review By Greg Klymkiw


The Drop (2014)
Dir. Michaël R. Roskam
Scr. Dennis Lehane
Starring: Tom Hardy, Noomi Rapace, James Gandolfini, Matthias Schoenaerts

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Cousin Marv (James Gsndolfini in his last screen appearance) owns one of those warm, dark, well-lived-in neighbourhood Brooklyn taverns that feels like a home away from home for its working class patrons. You know the joint. Every burgh has them. It's a place to catch a game on the TV above the bar and shoot the shit with your best buds. The place is full of memories, most of them good. Some, however, are not so good.

Bob Saginowski (Tom Hardy) is the quiet personable bartender, a neighbourhood boy with the kind of two-fisted warmth you'd be likely to find in a Rocky Balboa-type, not in the ring, but rather the dirty, mean streets. Yeah, Bob's a thug, but at first glance, you'd never guess. You could know him your whole life and never know it.

Bob is certainly a far cry from the repellent Eric Deeds (Matthias Schoenaerts, brilliant star of director Roskam's great first feature Bullhead), a loudmouthed braggart and overall slime bag who pumped up his street-cred in prison by admitting to the killing of an old pal of Bob's. Deeds also used to date local gal Nadia (Noomi Rapace). She unwisely gave him the benefit of the doubt and suffered his mental and physical abuse upon her.

The paths of all four inevitably cross in screenwriter Dennis Lehane's solid character-driven crime drama that's directed with the low-key, slow-burn styling Michaël R. Roskam brought to the very odd and chilling Belgian crime thriller Bullhead in 2011. It's a tale of redemption and revenge that often feels familiar, but every so often, confounds you by taking turns in the plot that are almost always unexpected.

What feels initially like a heist picture and mystery when Cousin Marv's bar is held-up by masked thugs, transforms into a gentle romance that begins with Bob and Nadia discovering an abused Pit Bull puppy her front yard trash can.

What ultimately drives everything though are the demands made of Marv by the vile Chechen mobsters who use the bar as a drop point to launder their dirty money. The thugs, you see, have made off with mafia money and the gangsters are holding Marv responsible.

As the elements of this tale unravel in a slow, deliberate fashion, with emphasis placed on getting to know the protagonists amidst an extremely danger-fraught situation, the film eventually builds to a climax of almost unbearable suspense and shocking violence. We can feel the lava roiling and we know there's going to be an eruption, but the degree to which the molten elements of Lehane's great writing explodes surpasses all expectations.

It's what makes The Drop so good - familiarity with the tropes of the genre that keep being skewed.

The Drop is Roskam's first film in America and proves to be a fine sophomore work from a director who already proved to be a stylish talent to watch with his previous film, but now, after happily lucking out with a superbly-written script by the first-rate Lehane, he's solidly placed himself at the forefront of foreign directors who might well be the saviours of contemporary American cinema.

You can't really argue with that.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***1/2

The Drop has its World Premiere as a Special Presentation at TIFF 2014. For further info visit TIFF's website HERE. Distributor is Fox Searchlight Pictures.

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