The Act of Killing (Joshua Oppenheimer, Christine Cynn, Anonymous)

The hills are alive with the sound of killing...

Taking direct inspiration for this review's opening statement from "The Godfather" in probably the same way those Indonesian death squad leaders did for their murderous deeds, Al Pacino's Michael Corleone character has once said in the sequel that if history has taught us anything, then it is that you can kill anyone. "The Act of Killing", a disturbing documentary film that, in equal measures, brutally condemns and trivializes genocide, shows us that, indeed, people can kill anyone they wish. But worst of all is that someone can kill thousands and still be revered as some kind of a savior. That happens, of course, if history books are written by the crazed victors, and that exactly what has occurred in the Republic of Indonesia sometime in the '60s.

Directed by Joshua Oppenheimer, Christine Cynn, plus an unknown native with the help of many other crew members that have chosen to stay anonymous (in fear of reprisal from the executors), the film is an oftentimes humorous but ultimately stomach-churning documentation of murderous mad men slowly going even madder and the despicable cinematic work that they attempt to make for kicks. You know, imagine Adolf Hitler or Pol Pot or even Kim Jong-un (well, I think the latter is really not that "left for the imagination") making genre films about their genocidal fits. "The Act of Killing", at least from how I see it, is an 'almost snuff film', as it reenacts, in accordance to the Indonesian executioners' romanticized memories of the killings, the way they whacked countless commie scums in numerous practical ways. These 'gangsters' ultimate goal is to remind Indonesian people about their brutal past. But do they really speak about the whole truth? Did history judge them right? 

Joshua Oppenheimer and company, by distancing themselves and the camera as much as possible from the constant hullabaloo transpiring among the 'grotesque' human circus in their midst, are able to tell a gripping story of power, pride, and political madness that's both subjectively dramatic and convincingly journalistic. It also certainly helps that their subjects, Anwar Congo and Herman Koto, among others, are obnoxious 'characters' in their own rights, which further underlines the documentary's slow descent into insanity in a fashion that's even more animated than Al Pacino's scenery-chewing tendencies in "Scarface". To a jestful extent, I even imagine the two of them starring in a weekly reality show aptly entitled "The Killers", but I digress. 

With the subjects' odd chemistry that, in a very morbid way, reminds me a lot of the one Jackie Chan, Yuen Biao, and Sammo Hung have shared in their prime, "The Act of Killing" successfully comes across as some sort of an energetic comedy film for all the wrong reasons, but its effect, once the misled humor fades well into the background, is painfully persistent. It's as unsettling a commentary on the darkness of man as Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness", but this time, there seems to be little to no remorse at all. Here is a film that portrays insanity not as something brought about by psychological trauma (unlike Kurtz in the aforementioned novella) but as something molded and justified by extremist beliefs. "The Act of Killing" is so powerful and real and pitch black (the humor makes it all the more bleak) in its depiction of modern evil that I sometimes can't help but wonder if the whole thing is staged, and Anwar Congo and company are but hired actors. Well, I can only wish that it was all fake, the same way these thugs imagine that they're Hollywood actors merely portraying 'gangster' roles like Paul Muni and James Cagney. 

There are films like "The Killing Fields" and "The Last King of Scotland", which are brave in their own rights by both recreating a violent point in an otherwise obscure country's history. But then, there are also works like Alain Resnais' short documentary "Night and Fog" and "The Act of Killing", which show, in all their tragic strands, the consequences of violence, inhumanity and extreme political will. 

For the sake of everyone's peace of mind, I think it is a good thing that the film (or films?) Anwar Congo and company have made was not shown in its entirety in the documentary, except for Anwar's reaction while watching it, which seems to bode remorse. I think there's no sight worse than a bunch of murderers shamelessly feeding their huge, blood-drenched egos with a hagiographic film naturally made to make them look like superstars of their own ideology. But then again, as their vision of their fantasy film dwindles slowly into the absurd and the utterly surreal, so do their reputations as noble guardians of the state. A big-ass gangster playing a heavily made-up prostitute? An executioner, fresh from dying his hair black, being visited by the ghost of one of his victims in an outfit that's an amalgam of kimono sensibilities and Edward Scissorhands'? The joke's on them. 

To look at things more lightly, I think what Joshua Oppenheimer has done to these people can be likened to what a mild-mannered student may possibly do, in retaliation, to the resident school bully. In that respect, "The Act of Killing", in an odd way, is a revenge film (at least from how I see it) that one ups these Indonesian harbingers of death without them even knowing it. I never thought that a film like this can be entirely possible. Now, can somebody make a film entitled "The Act of Torturing" about the Abu Ghraib prison?

FINAL RATING

El Presidente (Mark Meily)

Aguinaldo.

After last year's surprisingly good period gangster film that is "Manila Kingpin: The Asiong Salonga Story", here is E.R. Ejercito again with an Emilio Aguinaldo biopic entitled "El Presidente", an infinitely trickier film to pull off, scope and exposition-wise.

     

If E.R.'s previous film focuses mainly on gangland altruism, "El Presidente" is all about patriotic resilience amidst imperialism, and it definitely shows on the film's abundant dose of sentimentalism. And if E.R. seems tailor-made for the role of Asiong Salonga (after all, he has already played Asiong in the '90s film "Asiong Salonga: Hari ng Tondo"), he seems feverishly out of place in this whole historical drama, especially when he's surrounded by character actors that are ten times more talented than him.

     

Now do not get me wrong, when I think of a more suitable and relatively bankable actor to play Aguinaldo, I can't really think of anyone save for Ejercito himself (as of the moment, that is). Except for his bulldog-ish cheeks, Ejercito nicely fits the title role specifically because of his relative mass appeal and sense of authority. But then, somebody has seemingly forgotten to remind him that "El Presidente" is, after all, a film and not a theatrical play.

     

With his repetitively oratorical hand gestures and monotonous line deliveries, despite of the stature of the person he's playing, E.R. is easily dwarfed by his co-actors in the film, specifically Cesar Montano, whose brief but strong turn as Andres Bonifacio is a mild cause for celebration. Except for his hair that's anachronistically gelled upwards, Cesar Montano's Bonifacio is so well-portrayed that I wouldn't bother for him to have more screen time than Aguinaldo himself. Granted, "El Presidente" is quite sophisticated with its cinematography and action sequences, but its whole narrative seems fairly derivative and very 'Philippine History 101' that the film's human aspect was left terribly wanting.

     

Complete with cursive texts beneath every establishing scene that continuously remind us that the film is more of a crash course on the history of pre-republic Philippines rather than a fairly humanizing story of a great man (this, of course, depends on who's seeing the film), "El Presidente" never quite connects on the emotional level. Instead, and this is quite saddening, it merely gives out the occasional 'wow' factor with its action set pieces, mammoth scope and nothing more. And although I also liked Baron Geisler's intense performance as a Spanish captain, the film's supporting cast was fairly uninspired and a tad too unconvincing; indeed, a bunch of artificially mustachioed lads sputtering things about independence and going slow-motion on simulated battles is not enough. Well, maybe that is the ultimate downside of a historical drama: the scope is almost always so big that the characters are rendered as nothing but glorified plot details.

     

In a way, "El Presidente" is "Jose Rizal's" (the film, not the man) campy and overly sentimental half-brother who gets into too much unjustified scuffles. If Cesar Montano's portrayal of Jose Rizal is one founded upon complexity, dedication and utter intensity, E.R. Ejercito's Emilio Aguinaldo is founded upon monotony, misplaced emotions and uncalled-for action star-ism. In one action scene when he has suddenly pulled out a very gangster-looking boot knife, I even expected E.R. to suddenly show his ever-wriggling tongue and shout "Ako si Boy Sputnik!" His performance is just so all over the place that at the end of the day, "El Presidente" has made me root more for Andres Bonifacio. Now I have this sudden craving to watch Richard Somes' Bonifacio biopic "Supremo".

     

But in all fairness, the film's final 15 minutes or so is quite powerful. In a way, it reminds me of the final moments of Bernardo Bertolucci's "The Last Emperor" in how both finely convey the elegy of time in the lives of the most powerful and seemingly immortal leaders. The appearance of Nora Aunor as Emilio Aguinaldo's second wife though, who was cast just so she can be put into the posters as a potential crowd-drawer, is a complete non-event. In my opinion, they could have put Lilia Cuntapay in the role and it wouldn't really even make a strand of difference.

     

"El Presidente", although admittedly a grand, sweeping production, is a very clunky film that offers little to nothing that our history text books have not taught us yet. Perhaps showing some of Aguinaldo's trivial humanity wouldn't hurt. And yes, "Manila Kingpin" is better.

FINAL RATING

 

The Lives of Others (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck)

Intently listening.

A second viewing.

With Francis Ford Coppola's "The Conversation" being its closest cinematic kin, "The Lives of Others", one of the decade's best films and is also a stunning directorial debut by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, is also exceptional in its well-calculated thrills and is touchingly human in its very essence, which more or less separates it from the aforementioned paranoid classic. "The Lives of Others", with its beautiful emotional center that develops and permeates throughout the film, elevates itself from merely being a strongly-acted piece about the iron-fisted times of the German Democratic Republic into a genuinely transcendent piece about the beauty and mystery of human nature.

Set in 1980's East Germany during the times when German socialism is at an all-time high, privacy invasions through surveillances a commonality, and the destruction of the Berlin Wall nothing but an unrealized fantasy. Wiesler, played by the late Ulrich Muhe in a truly underrated performance that I think should be considered as one of the best in the last twenty years or so, is a seemingly cold surveillance expert and Stasi (German secret police) agent with principles that are well-intact, objective methods for investigations that are proven to be effective, and a solitary way of life. For many years, he has been a success in his field, capable of making suspected radicals squeal the names of associates and potential inciters of rebellion against the state confess to whatever they know. But despite of his strengths and an ability to thoroughly dissect, he struggles to connect.

"Stay a little while", says Wiesler as he futilely tries to convince a cheap prostitute to stay with him after they had a stiff sexual intercourse. Ironically, he is a man that technically controls the fate of those he interrogates and wiretaps but can't even guide his own. Here is a man whose existence has been rendered almost meaningless by his work but still oblivious of the fact.

Enter Dreyman (Sebastian Koch), a playwright, and Christa-Maria (Martina Gedeck), a stage actress: a couple that has been ordered to be put under surveillance technically because of radical suspicions but is really about Minister Hempf's (Thomas Thieme), a Stasi superior, ulterior intent to personally own Christa-Maria for his own sexual fulfillment.

Wiesler willingly signed up for the former but never for the latter; and to make his situation even more conflicted, Dreyman is slowly turning into the serious GDR critic that he was always suspected to be. And to make it even worse, Wiesler is silently being drawn into the couple's personal world plagued by emotional imperfections and forces they cannot control but nonetheless proved to fit Wiesler's concept of transcendent human connection. Furthermore, it's a world that Wiesler has never experienced before let alone felt. They represent his most hidden of hopes and the very truth of his own being.

But there's one personal challenge for him: He mustn't fly too close to the fire. Should he be the silently harsh Stasi agent that he always was? Or should he be a silent crusader for the sake of what's more righteous and more beautiful, at least for him?

From such a simple character as Wiesler, in a performance by Ulrich Muhe that is brilliantly understated and flawlessly complete, "The Lives of Others" has brilliantly embraced emotional importance and an unconditional faith in humanity more than the usual conundrums of a suspense-filled affair.

Director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck once mentioned in an interview (and is also mentioned briefly in the film) that he was always fascinated of the fact that Vladimir Lenin, as it was told, can't seem to bring himself into finishing the Russian revolution every time he listens to Beethoven's 'Appasionata', his favorite musical piece of all time.

If the power of art can bring or manipulate people to such momentary departures from who they really are, how powerful can it really be? But is that really the case? What if art and beauty, in fact, brings people closer into what they really are? "The Lives of Others" sided with the potential idea that humans are innately good and that humanity, for whatever it has been all throughout history, always strives for an inner truth. The oblivious Wiesler unconsciously did, and unlike Lenin, his 'Appasionata' never stopped playing.

FINAL RATING

Good Bye, Lenin! (Wolfgang Becker)

'Oh well, goodbye then'.

I was quite weary before watching this film as I haven't been that familiar with the history of German division aside from the fall of Berlin Wall and well, Reagan's famous 'tear down this wall' speech. But "Good Bye, Lenin!", with a narrator (that's also the film's protagonist) that seem far too poetic at times but ultimately convincing, delivered the necessary information with a tone of mundane deliberateness to highlight the character's naturalism for audiences to follow the film's political background closely .

It's as if there's a far more important theme to tackle other than socialist intricacies. But of course, there is: An enduring story of a son's love to his mother devoid of any conditionals.

After his socialist mother (Katrin Sass in an impressive performance) has awakened from an 8-month comma due to a heart attack, Alex (played by Daniel Bruhl, whom you may recognize as Frederick Zoller in the later Tarantino film "Inglourious Basterds"), who have learned from the doctor that his mother shouldn't be shocked or hooked into excitement in any way whatsoever as it may result to complications, is eager to keep her home. But complications is never just a health dilemma. The Berlin Wall has fallen. It's now one Germany, and the stocks of Spreewald gherkins has cruised into scarcity. Her mother's reality has turned into a unified land filled with alien capitalism.

He faced the situation with a calm demeanor and absurdist resolute, and helped by his friend and aspirant filmmaker Denis (Florian Lukas, who's like a cross between Robert Carlyle and a younger Ed Harris), decided to re-create GDR in ingenious kinds of ways as to prevent her mother from having the heart-thumping revelation of her life. A well-intended deception heightened by comedy. A 'comedy' that surely roots out from social idealism (the mother) suppressed by empirical determination.

Director Wolfgang Becker directed these sequences with uncommon energy and quirks that the first hour of the film flowed so effortlessly with quick pace, ease and story-telling delight. Yet from those elements mainly conceived from clever concepts and scenarios, "Good Bye, Lenin!" is still focused in its human drama.

It's less a politically-toned film than it is a penetrating study of connection (Alex's family), re-connection (the father sub-plot) and disconnection (from A horrid emotional past and the attachment to the GDR). Of course, from the point of view of a German who have experienced the social atmosphere of East/West Germany, "Good Bye, Lenin!" is mainly affecting due to the countless nostalgic references to olden times and the euphoric destruction of separatist sentiments. But from those way outside looking in (like me), what's very special with this film is its balance of happiness and melancholy by way of how it highlights the fun of liberty and the anguish of mistakes.

"Good Bye, Lenin!" is very eloquent on all sides, capturing the essential 'celebratory' mood of reunified Germany and the irony of the countless ruins and how it tries to accommodate its reverberated surroundings in desperate vain, especially how the wrecked Lenin statue hanging below a helicopter seems to communicate something to Alex's mother (one of the many great scenes in the film) as if asking for forgiveness or asking for her hand and saying, 'my child, my deeply socialist child, come with me'.

From its shifting pace to comic moments and times of tears, "Good Bye, Lenin!" has been strongly consistent with the entirety of its delivery and it has rendered a political reverie-turned reality into a convincing world of varied emotions and where euphemistic acceptance is a possibility. And moreover, departing from the complexities, the film is, simply put, a lasting love letter to all mothers who have loved their children unlike any other.

FINAL RATING

Green Zone (Paul Greengrass)

Miller, not Bourne.

Whether you are a 'Bourne' fan or not, it's almost impossible to look forward to watching "Green Zone" without even the slightest inclination of at least expecting an 'Iraq' war deviation of the famous spy franchise, especially with its last two film's director and 'shaky' cam master Paul Greengrass on the helm and Matt Damon as the lead.

I have to say that although the epileptic cinematography will never be denied of its place in the film, "Green Zone" has surprisingly focused more on the complexity of its story and the scope of its intrigue rather than the simple pleasures of some formulaic action sequences. The film's premise is mainly about the supposed 'Weapons of Mass Destruction' hidden and secretly created by Saddam Hussein, the fear and the symbol of ultimate villainy that it has created to distort the minds and perception of a world searching for someone to ultimately blame for the 9/11 attacks (stupid) and to model a tailor-made foe for a United States government hungry for war and profit (stupider).

Matt Damon plays a heroic soldier tired of all the red tapes, bent on disproving the idea of a 'weapon' said to be buried somewhere underneath the ruins of Iraq, and also to answer puzzling questions of his own about a reality where patriotic ideologies are being bastardized and compromised for the sake of saving faces and preserving images.

Greg Kinnear and Brendan Gleeson were both good in supporting roles that although look familiar and feel like cliched staples of political thriller films, carried the characters with some sort of short-tempered intensity and momentary urgency scene after scene, as if the current line they deliver is more important than the last. No redundant and unnecessary beatings around the 'bush' (no pun intended). With less than 1 and a half hours for exposition (I estimate the other 30 minutes to be dedicated to obligatory action sequences), the film's screenplay has proven itself as very tightly written and effectively compact.

The Vietnam War has always been criticized primarily because America's unsolicited intervention was a bit shallow in its justification. It also caused a lot of 'misplaced aggression'.

The War in Iraq can also be classified with the same deficiencies, although I think it's a bit 'deconstructive' (as if it served as a slight euphemism) in its approach: destroyed the common, accepted notions of war and instead relied on the unpredictable ripple effect of an 'illusion'; a big-time trick without reservations and with casualties involved. The deceptive manipulation of the higher ones: the ignobility of war indeed.

FINAL RATING

Nixon (Oliver Stone)

Nixon, Lincoln, and War.

From "All the President's Men" to the most recent "Frost/Nixon", many films have been created regarding Nixon's shameful stint as U.S. president, yet not a single brave soul dared to chronicle the entirety of his life. Enter Oliver Stone, a man that almost borders political obsession every time he renders topical figures on-screen; a bit too much that his film "JFK" looked like a subjectively self-indulged investigation transformed into a lengthy docudrama. But unlike that previous film, "Nixon" is really far more interested with the man himself than the entirety of his intrigues. The whole film may have deeply focused on highly political places such as the oval office or Mao's communist territory in China, but the editing, along with Oliver Stone's use of highly unsettling cinematic style (playing around with color and black and white), is an expressionistic translation of Nixon's inner disturbances, masterfully played by the great Anthony Hopkins.

It was said that Mr. Hopkins' portrayal of the mysterious American President was ''miraculous'; that, I think, is still an understatement. Hell, I even consider 'divine transformation' a slight complement. Though carrying the burden of being 'too British' in playing one of the representative American figures of the 70's, Mr. Hopkins played the part very convincingly, commanding the screen with his subtle smiles and desperate tantrums that even though his voice and features were nothing compared to that of the real Richard Nixon, he has able to embrace and embody his fragmented persona successfully.

The 1970's is the defining era of America, giving way for the birth of subversiveness and counterculture, hippies and pseudo-communists, paranoia and conspiracy, the Vietnam War and Fidel Castro. It also revealed the side of America few had ever anticipated: rebellious, restless, radical, but quietly revolutionary. It may look far-fetched but I can't help but see "Easy Rider" as a great companion piece.

Nixon may have left a trail of scandals and intrigues, but seeing the era's descriptions and seeing his, it's a perfect duo of revelation; yes, it has paved way for the wild side of American culture, but it has also undoubtedly molded it.

The United States of America. 'The Land of Promises'. Oh, how it continuously preached about the Great 'American' Dream, yet the Great 'American' Tragedy merely resides in its highest office playing on and on. We'll never know if Nixon really resigned in pride or in guilt. The Watergate. The Bay of Pigs. The ill-advised bombing of Cambodia. All incriminating devices for 'Nixon the politician'. but Stone, looking more humanistic and less political than ever, used them as mediums to expose the heart and soul of 'Nixon the man'. In the film, I distinctly remember what Nixon said about the Kent State massacre: "I'd like to offer my condolences to those families. But Nixon can't."

The grocer's son is indeed not as heartless as everyone thinks.

FINAL RATING

Secret Society, Celebrities, Politics, the Devil, and a random citation of the film "Megiddo"...

Conceptual art of Obama as the Anti-Christ

Alright, before anything else, this is not an article about any conspiracy theories or nostradmus-esque predictions of the impending doom. This is just a firsthand experience inside the quiet confines of a library about overhearing some senseless conversations and how irritating it can really be.

It started like this:

(On a very serious, all-knowing voice, and yes he said it in english:)

Student 1: "Religion is separated in many different factions: There is the Catholic church, the Protestant blah blah..." (insert other religions and pedestrian words like 'evangelical'.)

My schoolmate (this is Student 2) listening intently to this man, urged me to join the little forum. I did not answer. But okay, I'll give it a try.

At first, it goes fine, just the way you would expect the 'internet generation' talk about things outside school requirements.

But then it suddenly went into a conversation closely resembling this one:

Student 1: Kilala mo si John F. Kennedy? Illuminati yon. Ibinenta nya ang kaluluwa niya sa demonyo para maging sikat at makapangyarihan. (You know John F. Kennedy? He's an Illuminati. He sold his soul to the devil to obtain fame and power.)

Student 2: Oo nga, kaya nga siya inassassinate eh, kasi dun sa isang speech nya, ibinunyag niya ang mga sikreto ng Illuminati. Tapos habang rumoronda siya (yes, that's the term), ayun pinapatay siya nung secret society. (Oh yes, that's why he's assassinated. He once revealed the Illuminati's secrets in his speech. Then while he is patrolling over the streets, he was killed by the secret society.)

(Student 1 nodding in agreement)

Student 1: Si Obama, Illuminati din yon. (Obama. He's also an Illuminati.)

Student 2: Oo, tama, alam ko may video yun. Nakikipag-anuhan siya sa isang lalaki. Ritual daw yun ng Illuminati. (That's right, and from what I know, he has some kind of a video of him sodomizing a man. They say that that's an Illuminati ritual.)

(From that point, I was shaking my head, (while I let it appear that I'm reading one of Jessica Zafra's "Twisted" books) while silently questioning how these two appear to say all of it with utter conviction, confidence and a straight face as if they've witnessed all of it firsthand.)

Student 1: Si Kobe at Lebron. Ibinenta din nila yung kaluluwa nila sa demonyo para maging sikat at magaling sa basketball. (Kobe and Lebron. They also sold their souls to the devil so that they can be famous and great at basketball.)

Student 2: Oo nga, nagtataka ako. Andaming magaling sa NBA, pero sa kanila lang lagi yung atensyon. (Yes, I wonder. There's so many great players in the NBA, but the attention is always focused on them.)

Lebron with the mysterious hand sign.

Wow, even the simple athletic skills of basketball was indebted to the dark side? How about Jordan, Magic, and Bird? Have they also dealt squarely with the horned one?

Then student 2 approached my classmate and recommended to him that he should also be researching about the concerned matter.

My classmate: Wala akong panahon para dyan. (I don't have time for that.)

I just laughed. Then after some time, student 1, who started it all, said goodbye to attend a class.

After another 5 minutes or so, all of us (including Student 2) started to talk about the financial potential of selling sari-sari store goods on Ebay, and how Brad Pitt and other celebrities would look like while eating 'Muncher' and other local junk foods. We also visualized 'Taho' vendors roaming the streets of L.A. every morning. We had a good laugh. The Illuminati intrigue was finally squashed.


(Note: Student 2 also mentioned Oprah in the 'Illuminati' conversation, but I rather not in this post.)