cinelyze
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"I was not an enthusiastic Nazi," a woman's voice-over tells us at the opening of "Downfall," as if to underscore her lack of complicity in Germany's actions in the second World War, or perhaps to convince herself. It is 1943 when director Oliver Hirschbiegel's film about the last tormented days of Adolph Hitler begins, and that voice belongs to the real Traudl Junge (played here by Alexandra Maria Lara), one of several young women smuggled into the Führer's headquarters in East Prussia to interview for a position as his private secretary. When she messes up the first go-round at dictation, Traudl, whose curiosity about Hitler is the catalyst for her adventure, is moved by the dictator's gentleness and generosity. A moment later she is jumping for joy to land such a prestigious position.
Two and a half years later, things are considerably different. The German military has suffered severe losses, Berlin is under artillery attack by the advancing Russians, the great experiment in National Socialism is crumbling like the city, and Hitler (Bruno Ganz) and his key commandants have retreated to the leader's private bunker. But the megalomaniacal Hitler, who irrationally still believes he can produce a Third Reich that is a German "treasure house of art and culture" comparable to that of the ancient Greek and Roman civilizations, not only refuses to give up, but also shouts at his minions that a new military strategy is in effect that will help them win the war. How delusional!
Despite their resolute faith in the Führer, even some of the elite members of the SS have come to mistrust his judgment. Albert Speer (Heino Ferch), the famed architect of the Third Reich, looks askance at Hitler over a table top model of the cultural structures he planned to create for the master race. Field marshall Hermann Göring cannot (or will not) obey orders. Nazi doctors refuse to let civilians and young men die without some attempt at medical attention. When Hitler is told that "fifteen to twenty thousand" of those young men were lost in an effort to fight off the Russians, his heartlessly-spewed response is: "that's what they're for." But he will go out onto the street during a lull in the shelling to honor youngsters as heroes who "history will take note of," and pinch the cheek of one particularly innocent- looking lad.
The bipolarity of a man who himself has gone down in history as one of its greatest monsters is at the heart of "Downfall," the screenplay (by Bernd Eichinger) for which is based on historian Joachim Fest's book (The Downfall: Inside Hitler's Bunker, The Last Days of the Third Reich) and on the memoir of the real Traudl Junge (Until the Final Hour: Hitler's Last Secretary). The film does not ask us to sympathize with this madman (given his actions, how could it?), but it does present a profile of a man who, despite his obvious dementia, still managed to hold sway over those who earlier pledged their loyalty to him and were determined to maintain it to the bitter end. And is it ever bitter.
The claustrophobic confines of the elaborately designed bunker (by Production Designer Bernd Lepel) are reminiscent of the submarine in the German film "Das Boot." We can practically smell its fetid air and feel the walls closing in on us as the Russians close in on the city. Given these circumstances, we can understand how Eva Braun ("Nowhere in Africa's" Juliane Köhler in another terrific performance) can say to Traudl, "The shelling has stopped, let's go for a walk," even if the suggestion is as insane as staying with Hitler.
But like the others who stick it out and who, in many instances, make inhuman, incomprehensible sacrifices to do so, both women descend yet again to that labyrinth of madness.
Aside from the exploration of Hitler's increasingly fragile grip on reality, what is most fascinating about how he is depicted is his appeal, particularly to women. In addition to Traudl and Eva Braun, the short, mustachioed man with the thinning comb-over mesmerized such otherwise strong-willed women as pilot Hanna Reitsch (Anna Thalbach), and Magda Goebbels (Corinna Harfouch), wife of Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels (Ulrich Matthes). As such, "Downfall's" strength is greatest when it sticks to these human dynamics rather than when it sidetracks to subplots outside the bunker that have little or nothing to do with the story that unfolds in that enclosed world.
War is the ugliest, or among the ugliest of human actions, and "Downfall" does not glamorize it. On the contrary, despite its technically superb cinematography (by Rainer Klausmann, who also shot "Head On"), there are a number of graphic sequences that underscore the horrors of war, as if we needed reminding. Then again, perhaps we do.
"Downfall" does not necessarily present new information on those last twelve days of Hitler's life, but it does present it in a worthwhile way. In a time of war, such as the one we are currently living in, it is important to remember that monsters are made, not born, and that they lurk beneath the surface of some otherwise very ordinary humans.
Two and a half years later, things are considerably different. The German military has suffered severe losses, Berlin is under artillery attack by the advancing Russians, the great experiment in National Socialism is crumbling like the city, and Hitler (Bruno Ganz) and his key commandants have retreated to the leader's private bunker. But the megalomaniacal Hitler, who irrationally still believes he can produce a Third Reich that is a German "treasure house of art and culture" comparable to that of the ancient Greek and Roman civilizations, not only refuses to give up, but also shouts at his minions that a new military strategy is in effect that will help them win the war. How delusional!
Despite their resolute faith in the Führer, even some of the elite members of the SS have come to mistrust his judgment. Albert Speer (Heino Ferch), the famed architect of the Third Reich, looks askance at Hitler over a table top model of the cultural structures he planned to create for the master race. Field marshall Hermann Göring cannot (or will not) obey orders. Nazi doctors refuse to let civilians and young men die without some attempt at medical attention. When Hitler is told that "fifteen to twenty thousand" of those young men were lost in an effort to fight off the Russians, his heartlessly-spewed response is: "that's what they're for." But he will go out onto the street during a lull in the shelling to honor youngsters as heroes who "history will take note of," and pinch the cheek of one particularly innocent- looking lad.
The bipolarity of a man who himself has gone down in history as one of its greatest monsters is at the heart of "Downfall," the screenplay (by Bernd Eichinger) for which is based on historian Joachim Fest's book (The Downfall: Inside Hitler's Bunker, The Last Days of the Third Reich) and on the memoir of the real Traudl Junge (Until the Final Hour: Hitler's Last Secretary). The film does not ask us to sympathize with this madman (given his actions, how could it?), but it does present a profile of a man who, despite his obvious dementia, still managed to hold sway over those who earlier pledged their loyalty to him and were determined to maintain it to the bitter end. And is it ever bitter.
The claustrophobic confines of the elaborately designed bunker (by Production Designer Bernd Lepel) are reminiscent of the submarine in the German film "Das Boot." We can practically smell its fetid air and feel the walls closing in on us as the Russians close in on the city. Given these circumstances, we can understand how Eva Braun ("Nowhere in Africa's" Juliane Köhler in another terrific performance) can say to Traudl, "The shelling has stopped, let's go for a walk," even if the suggestion is as insane as staying with Hitler.
But like the others who stick it out and who, in many instances, make inhuman, incomprehensible sacrifices to do so, both women descend yet again to that labyrinth of madness.
Aside from the exploration of Hitler's increasingly fragile grip on reality, what is most fascinating about how he is depicted is his appeal, particularly to women. In addition to Traudl and Eva Braun, the short, mustachioed man with the thinning comb-over mesmerized such otherwise strong-willed women as pilot Hanna Reitsch (Anna Thalbach), and Magda Goebbels (Corinna Harfouch), wife of Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels (Ulrich Matthes). As such, "Downfall's" strength is greatest when it sticks to these human dynamics rather than when it sidetracks to subplots outside the bunker that have little or nothing to do with the story that unfolds in that enclosed world.
War is the ugliest, or among the ugliest of human actions, and "Downfall" does not glamorize it. On the contrary, despite its technically superb cinematography (by Rainer Klausmann, who also shot "Head On"), there are a number of graphic sequences that underscore the horrors of war, as if we needed reminding. Then again, perhaps we do.
"Downfall" does not necessarily present new information on those last twelve days of Hitler's life, but it does present it in a worthwhile way. In a time of war, such as the one we are currently living in, it is important to remember that monsters are made, not born, and that they lurk beneath the surface of some otherwise very ordinary humans.
As the title suggests, "Bride and Prejudice" is a delightful update of Jane Austen's 19th century comedy of manners about marriage between the classes. Director Gurinder Chadha ("Bend It Like Beckham") and co-writer Paul Mayeda Berges more than successfully modernized the tale.
In this reinterpretation, the Indian countryside fills in for that of Regency England, and Austen's five daughters have been reduced to four, but the essence of the novel -- marriages that satisfy both financial and romantic desires -- remains intact.
Aishwarya Rai, who Time Magazine dubbed the most beautiful woman in the world, plays Lalita Bakshi, the character that replaces the novel's intellectually spirited protagonist, Elizabeth Bennet. Despite her exquisite good looks, polished English, and fine mind, Lalita, the "jewel of Amritsar" (the modern Indian town where she lives), is content to remain with her family until the right man comes along.
That man might be Will Darcy (Martin Henderson), the scion of American hoteliers, who arrives in Amritsar with his friend Balraj Bingley (Naveen Andrews), ostensibly to attend a local wedding. The real purpose of the trip, however, is for Darcy to take stock of a nearby seaside resort that his family is considering adding to their holdings, and for Bingley to find a wife.
At the wedding celebration, the English-bred Bingley falls for Lalita's older sister, Jaya (Namrata Shirodkar), and the Waspy Darcy is smitten by Lalita. But Darcy's nervousness and bumbling conversation cause Lalita to snub him. Nevertheless, Lalita agrees to accompany Jaya on a trip to the shore with Darcy and Bingley in order to cement her sister's hopeful position as Bingley's bride-to-be.
The love/hate connection between Lalita and Darcy intensifies when Darcy, prodded by Bingley's snobbish sister, Kiran, (Indira Varma), expresses his very western philosophy. In her disgust, Lalita sums up Darcy's arrogant too-American attitude. "You want people to come to India without having to deal with Indians."
Shortly thereafter, Lalita meets Johnny Wickham (Daniel Gillies), a mate from Darcy's past whose interest in Lalita stirs not only the plot, but also Darcy's passions. The story is further complicated by the arrival of the nerdy Mr. Kohli (an amusing Nitin Chandra Ganatra), whose traditional values and "no life without a wife" mindset have driven him back to India from Los Angeles to make a match. The rest of the events unfold in a predictable but entertaining manner.
The latest Bollywood-style film to hit American theaters, "Bride" overflows with beautiful people, colorful costumes, lively music and spirited dancing. (Did I mention the beautiful people?) As with other films of this genre, much of the action unfolds as characters break into song and dance. But what sets "Bride" apart from many of its predecessors is that, in addition to their high caliber entertainment factor, these musical interludes advance the plot without overwhelming it. Original music by Anu Malik and Craig Pruess successfully blend contemporary rhythms with conventional instrumentation, and one particularly sexy, though chaste, concert is performed by pop artist Ashanti.
For Chadha, who was born in Kenya and raised in England, the material might seem an unlikely choice. But the director has a strong connection to her cultural roots, and, like Austen, is aware of the tug-of-war between modern and traditional values. As she did with "Beckham," Chadha explores those contradictions to good effect here.
"Bride" is beautifully cast (literally), with winning performances across the board. Tech credits are equally assured. Although "Bride's" release coincides with what is typically a dull season, it would be a welcome addition at any time of year. As one of its songs says, "life is great, let's celebrate," and "Bride" gives us cause to do just that.
In this reinterpretation, the Indian countryside fills in for that of Regency England, and Austen's five daughters have been reduced to four, but the essence of the novel -- marriages that satisfy both financial and romantic desires -- remains intact.
Aishwarya Rai, who Time Magazine dubbed the most beautiful woman in the world, plays Lalita Bakshi, the character that replaces the novel's intellectually spirited protagonist, Elizabeth Bennet. Despite her exquisite good looks, polished English, and fine mind, Lalita, the "jewel of Amritsar" (the modern Indian town where she lives), is content to remain with her family until the right man comes along.
That man might be Will Darcy (Martin Henderson), the scion of American hoteliers, who arrives in Amritsar with his friend Balraj Bingley (Naveen Andrews), ostensibly to attend a local wedding. The real purpose of the trip, however, is for Darcy to take stock of a nearby seaside resort that his family is considering adding to their holdings, and for Bingley to find a wife.
At the wedding celebration, the English-bred Bingley falls for Lalita's older sister, Jaya (Namrata Shirodkar), and the Waspy Darcy is smitten by Lalita. But Darcy's nervousness and bumbling conversation cause Lalita to snub him. Nevertheless, Lalita agrees to accompany Jaya on a trip to the shore with Darcy and Bingley in order to cement her sister's hopeful position as Bingley's bride-to-be.
The love/hate connection between Lalita and Darcy intensifies when Darcy, prodded by Bingley's snobbish sister, Kiran, (Indira Varma), expresses his very western philosophy. In her disgust, Lalita sums up Darcy's arrogant too-American attitude. "You want people to come to India without having to deal with Indians."
Shortly thereafter, Lalita meets Johnny Wickham (Daniel Gillies), a mate from Darcy's past whose interest in Lalita stirs not only the plot, but also Darcy's passions. The story is further complicated by the arrival of the nerdy Mr. Kohli (an amusing Nitin Chandra Ganatra), whose traditional values and "no life without a wife" mindset have driven him back to India from Los Angeles to make a match. The rest of the events unfold in a predictable but entertaining manner.
The latest Bollywood-style film to hit American theaters, "Bride" overflows with beautiful people, colorful costumes, lively music and spirited dancing. (Did I mention the beautiful people?) As with other films of this genre, much of the action unfolds as characters break into song and dance. But what sets "Bride" apart from many of its predecessors is that, in addition to their high caliber entertainment factor, these musical interludes advance the plot without overwhelming it. Original music by Anu Malik and Craig Pruess successfully blend contemporary rhythms with conventional instrumentation, and one particularly sexy, though chaste, concert is performed by pop artist Ashanti.
For Chadha, who was born in Kenya and raised in England, the material might seem an unlikely choice. But the director has a strong connection to her cultural roots, and, like Austen, is aware of the tug-of-war between modern and traditional values. As she did with "Beckham," Chadha explores those contradictions to good effect here.
"Bride" is beautifully cast (literally), with winning performances across the board. Tech credits are equally assured. Although "Bride's" release coincides with what is typically a dull season, it would be a welcome addition at any time of year. As one of its songs says, "life is great, let's celebrate," and "Bride" gives us cause to do just that.
Do you believe in magic? How about miracles? Not to worry. The imaginative "Millions" will have you doing just that.
Told from a child's perspective, "Millions" is set in a London suburb twelve days before the currency conversion to the Euro (a conceit of the film), after which the British pound will no longer be accepted as legal tender. This fact drives the plot, but "Millions" (which has an Aesopian quality I'll get to in a bit) is much more than mere plot.
When the film opens, it is moving day for Damian (Alex Etel), an angelic-looking, freckle-faced boy; his slightly older, pubescent brother, Anthony (Lewis Owen McGibbon); and their father (the always reliable James Nesbitt). The boys' mother, we learn, has been dead one year.
We first see Damian and Anthony racing their bikes alongside the train tracks, then lying in a field and imagining what their new home will look like. Stop-motion animation, in this and other, similar sequences, appropriately reminds us that "Millions" is not only a tale told by a child, but that that child is rather unusual, to say the least.
Damian, who only "wants to be good," sees saints and reels off their vital statistics -- their birth and death dates -- the way other boys do baseball or soccer stats. Although Damian's brother genuinely loves him, at their new school he reminds Damian not to be "too conspicuous" in his oddity so that he will be able to fit in and make friends. But the in-the- flesh saints, swirling halos and all, with whom Damian converses -- including St. Peter, St. Francis of Assisi, The Martyrs of Uganda, and a comical pot-smoking St. Clare (did you know she was the "patron saint of television"?) -- are much more fascinating to him.
It is during Damian's conversation with St. Clare (Kathryn Pogson), conducted within a cardboard box fortress he constructs in a field beside the railroad tracks, that an over-sized athletic bag full of money lands on him. Naturally, he believes it is sent "from God."
What to do with this windfall becomes a point of contention between the two brothers: Anthony wants to buy things, and Damian wants to give it to poor people. In some manner, both brothers get to fulfill their wishes. That is, until they discover from a schoolmate that the real source of the money is an elaborately staged robbery scheme, and that the thieves are still very much at large. At this point, plot takes over, though not heavy-handedly.
The charming "Millions" marks a departure for director Danny Boyle ("Trainspotting," "28 Days Later") and writer Frank Cottrell Boyce ("24 Hour Party People," "Hilary and Jackie"), both of whose previous efforts explored darker themes. The union of these two creative talents provides an extremely satisfying experience, albeit a much lighter one, than those credits suggest.
"Millions" benefits from spot-on casting, well-paced editing (by Chris Gill), and a lively soundtrack (which includes The Clash, The Muse, Vangelis, and original music by John Murphy). Cinematography, by Anthony Dodd Mantle ("28 Days Later"), further enhances the film's blend of fantasy and reality: its rich primary color palette reinforces the child's eye- view, and a number of high-angle shots suggest a more watchful perspective that, at the right moments, establishes an appropriate element of suspense.
But "Millions" is more than the sum of its parts. Without getting preachy, the film is an allegory about faith, and the difficulties we all face in being good. Money aside, being even ever so slightly corrupt is sometimes just too easy for us fallible humans. Even for Damian, who is just a boy. And boys will be boys. He has learned how uncomfortable grownups get when he tells them his "mum's dead," and he has no qualms about repeating this phrase when the likely result of doing so will be a reward of sweets. Despite his contrition, the tactic is not beneath him.
If something as innocent as sweets can cause us to stray, what chance do we stand against a big bag of free money which, as Damian says, "makes it harder to see what's what"? Indeed.
The ability to see what's what and to simplify the often complicated aspects of being human is the spirit of "Millions," which suggests that there is no predicting what anyone will do next, even in the film business. Say hallelujah.
Told from a child's perspective, "Millions" is set in a London suburb twelve days before the currency conversion to the Euro (a conceit of the film), after which the British pound will no longer be accepted as legal tender. This fact drives the plot, but "Millions" (which has an Aesopian quality I'll get to in a bit) is much more than mere plot.
When the film opens, it is moving day for Damian (Alex Etel), an angelic-looking, freckle-faced boy; his slightly older, pubescent brother, Anthony (Lewis Owen McGibbon); and their father (the always reliable James Nesbitt). The boys' mother, we learn, has been dead one year.
We first see Damian and Anthony racing their bikes alongside the train tracks, then lying in a field and imagining what their new home will look like. Stop-motion animation, in this and other, similar sequences, appropriately reminds us that "Millions" is not only a tale told by a child, but that that child is rather unusual, to say the least.
Damian, who only "wants to be good," sees saints and reels off their vital statistics -- their birth and death dates -- the way other boys do baseball or soccer stats. Although Damian's brother genuinely loves him, at their new school he reminds Damian not to be "too conspicuous" in his oddity so that he will be able to fit in and make friends. But the in-the- flesh saints, swirling halos and all, with whom Damian converses -- including St. Peter, St. Francis of Assisi, The Martyrs of Uganda, and a comical pot-smoking St. Clare (did you know she was the "patron saint of television"?) -- are much more fascinating to him.
It is during Damian's conversation with St. Clare (Kathryn Pogson), conducted within a cardboard box fortress he constructs in a field beside the railroad tracks, that an over-sized athletic bag full of money lands on him. Naturally, he believes it is sent "from God."
What to do with this windfall becomes a point of contention between the two brothers: Anthony wants to buy things, and Damian wants to give it to poor people. In some manner, both brothers get to fulfill their wishes. That is, until they discover from a schoolmate that the real source of the money is an elaborately staged robbery scheme, and that the thieves are still very much at large. At this point, plot takes over, though not heavy-handedly.
The charming "Millions" marks a departure for director Danny Boyle ("Trainspotting," "28 Days Later") and writer Frank Cottrell Boyce ("24 Hour Party People," "Hilary and Jackie"), both of whose previous efforts explored darker themes. The union of these two creative talents provides an extremely satisfying experience, albeit a much lighter one, than those credits suggest.
"Millions" benefits from spot-on casting, well-paced editing (by Chris Gill), and a lively soundtrack (which includes The Clash, The Muse, Vangelis, and original music by John Murphy). Cinematography, by Anthony Dodd Mantle ("28 Days Later"), further enhances the film's blend of fantasy and reality: its rich primary color palette reinforces the child's eye- view, and a number of high-angle shots suggest a more watchful perspective that, at the right moments, establishes an appropriate element of suspense.
But "Millions" is more than the sum of its parts. Without getting preachy, the film is an allegory about faith, and the difficulties we all face in being good. Money aside, being even ever so slightly corrupt is sometimes just too easy for us fallible humans. Even for Damian, who is just a boy. And boys will be boys. He has learned how uncomfortable grownups get when he tells them his "mum's dead," and he has no qualms about repeating this phrase when the likely result of doing so will be a reward of sweets. Despite his contrition, the tactic is not beneath him.
If something as innocent as sweets can cause us to stray, what chance do we stand against a big bag of free money which, as Damian says, "makes it harder to see what's what"? Indeed.
The ability to see what's what and to simplify the often complicated aspects of being human is the spirit of "Millions," which suggests that there is no predicting what anyone will do next, even in the film business. Say hallelujah.