theSachaHall
Joined Oct 2014
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Attending the Sydney Film Festival, I had been waiting all Festival for that piece of cinematic magic that just leaves you breathless and desperate to run out of the theatre so that you can share it with everyone you know. I found that with director Jennifer Peedom's impassioned documentary Sherpa.
Initially envisioned as an exploration of the deteriorating relationship between Sherpas and foreign climbers from the Sherpas perspective - particularly after the highly publicised 2013 Base Camp 1 brawl between European climbers and Sherpas - Sherpa quickly becomes a real-time chronicle of the worst loss of human life on Mt Everest in a single day.
Beginning with a series of majestic perspectives and time-lapse shots of the mother mountain, high-altitude cinematographers Renan Ozturk, Hugh Miller and Ken Saul – globally renown mountaineers in their own right – manage to capture the formidable, yet poetic beauty of Everest's peak as jet stream winds billow across it's dangerous edges. It's a wondrous sight, juxtaposed by crunching crampons and ice shifts that remind you of Everest's dangerously fragile environment.
So too does Peedom's thoughtful and oft times, entertaining introduction to Himalayan Experience's Sirdar Phurba Tashi Sherpa and his family. The current world record holder for the most total ascents of peaks above 8,000, and joint record holder for the most ascents (21) of Mt Everest, Phurba and his family are all too aware of Everest's rising exigency both on and off the peak. 'My brother died on Everest last year' Phurba's wife Karma Dopa Sherpa shares as she fights back tears on screen 'he went because he needed the money'.
Phurba understands his wife's concerns and knows culturally that it is wrong to climb the mountain they call Chomolungma but he also enjoys what he does. The income generated by the most dangerous job in the word not only financially benefits Sherpas families but it also benefits their entire community for the whole year. Humorously, Phurba's mother fails to agree with her son stating 'if he was a famous Monk, at least he would get blessings. But the fame he gets from the mountain is useless'.
Writer and journalist Ed Douglas shares this opinion as he presents throughout the film, a clear picture of the growing divide between the Sherpas cultural integrity and intrusive western commercialisation that one can't help but be appalled by. So too is the disproportionate contributions and risks Sherpas shoulder compared to their clients. Whilst wealthy westerners pay up to $75,000 to conquer their ultimate bucket list challenge, Sherpas earn a meager $5,000 to risk their lives up to 30 times per season for their clients, are rarely acknowledged or thanked publicly for their contribution to the climbers ascent, nor often respected for their cultural beliefs.
Early in the film, as Sherpas set up Everest base camp from scratch in anticipation of their western clients, Peedom gives audiences subtle glimpses of outrageous and shameful western excess and expectation: flat screen TV's, portable showers, bar areas, and an equipped library. There's a scene following the tent village preparations where two Sherpas are offering coffee to clients as they cheerily wish them good morning at their tent. After serving the first client who returns the Sherpas greetings and thanks them for the coffee, the following client responds by asking for sugar and no milk as if they are at their local Costa rather than over 5,000 m above sea level. It's truly a head shaking moment.
So too is the client meeting held between Himalayan veteran Russell Brice of Himalayan Experience and his commercial expedition group following the avalanche. As one of the last expedition groups to cancel their summit bids, not all of Brice's clients were happy. One American climber suggests Brice seek out 'the owner' of the unruly Sherpas and have them removed from the camp and later compares the cancellation of the season due to the Sherpas respect for their lost friends, their families and the mountain to a terrorist attack like 9/11 since America knows all about that. Boy did that incredulous statement make the audience laugh!
At certain points in the film, it's hard to find sympathy for the expedition operators and climbers bemoaning the loss of their ascent attempt and revenue as Sherpas mourn the 16 Sherpas who died but Peedom manages to find a respectful balance between the parties during and following the tragedy on screen. You can feel the raw emotions of expedition operators and their crews, medical staff, Sherpas and concerned climbers as they traverse from casualty and body recovery to confusion and frustration following the tragedy and finally, the Sherpas evaluation of their role on Everest and the increasing dangers on the mountain due to climate change.
Whilst Sherpa documents a horrific tragedy in real-time, it also acts as the dramatic backdrop for industrial dispute that's been simmering under the surface sky for a long time. Douglas concurs 'Tenzing gave the name Sherpa a currency that will never be exhausted and they are now finally beginning to take advantage of that'.
I couldn't agree more.
Sherpa is an extraordinary and soulful documentary, where there's death in beauty and beauty in death. As Tenzing Norgay says 'you don't conquer these mountains, you know; you just crawl up, as a child crawling onto your mothers lap'.
Initially envisioned as an exploration of the deteriorating relationship between Sherpas and foreign climbers from the Sherpas perspective - particularly after the highly publicised 2013 Base Camp 1 brawl between European climbers and Sherpas - Sherpa quickly becomes a real-time chronicle of the worst loss of human life on Mt Everest in a single day.
Beginning with a series of majestic perspectives and time-lapse shots of the mother mountain, high-altitude cinematographers Renan Ozturk, Hugh Miller and Ken Saul – globally renown mountaineers in their own right – manage to capture the formidable, yet poetic beauty of Everest's peak as jet stream winds billow across it's dangerous edges. It's a wondrous sight, juxtaposed by crunching crampons and ice shifts that remind you of Everest's dangerously fragile environment.
So too does Peedom's thoughtful and oft times, entertaining introduction to Himalayan Experience's Sirdar Phurba Tashi Sherpa and his family. The current world record holder for the most total ascents of peaks above 8,000, and joint record holder for the most ascents (21) of Mt Everest, Phurba and his family are all too aware of Everest's rising exigency both on and off the peak. 'My brother died on Everest last year' Phurba's wife Karma Dopa Sherpa shares as she fights back tears on screen 'he went because he needed the money'.
Phurba understands his wife's concerns and knows culturally that it is wrong to climb the mountain they call Chomolungma but he also enjoys what he does. The income generated by the most dangerous job in the word not only financially benefits Sherpas families but it also benefits their entire community for the whole year. Humorously, Phurba's mother fails to agree with her son stating 'if he was a famous Monk, at least he would get blessings. But the fame he gets from the mountain is useless'.
Writer and journalist Ed Douglas shares this opinion as he presents throughout the film, a clear picture of the growing divide between the Sherpas cultural integrity and intrusive western commercialisation that one can't help but be appalled by. So too is the disproportionate contributions and risks Sherpas shoulder compared to their clients. Whilst wealthy westerners pay up to $75,000 to conquer their ultimate bucket list challenge, Sherpas earn a meager $5,000 to risk their lives up to 30 times per season for their clients, are rarely acknowledged or thanked publicly for their contribution to the climbers ascent, nor often respected for their cultural beliefs.
Early in the film, as Sherpas set up Everest base camp from scratch in anticipation of their western clients, Peedom gives audiences subtle glimpses of outrageous and shameful western excess and expectation: flat screen TV's, portable showers, bar areas, and an equipped library. There's a scene following the tent village preparations where two Sherpas are offering coffee to clients as they cheerily wish them good morning at their tent. After serving the first client who returns the Sherpas greetings and thanks them for the coffee, the following client responds by asking for sugar and no milk as if they are at their local Costa rather than over 5,000 m above sea level. It's truly a head shaking moment.
So too is the client meeting held between Himalayan veteran Russell Brice of Himalayan Experience and his commercial expedition group following the avalanche. As one of the last expedition groups to cancel their summit bids, not all of Brice's clients were happy. One American climber suggests Brice seek out 'the owner' of the unruly Sherpas and have them removed from the camp and later compares the cancellation of the season due to the Sherpas respect for their lost friends, their families and the mountain to a terrorist attack like 9/11 since America knows all about that. Boy did that incredulous statement make the audience laugh!
At certain points in the film, it's hard to find sympathy for the expedition operators and climbers bemoaning the loss of their ascent attempt and revenue as Sherpas mourn the 16 Sherpas who died but Peedom manages to find a respectful balance between the parties during and following the tragedy on screen. You can feel the raw emotions of expedition operators and their crews, medical staff, Sherpas and concerned climbers as they traverse from casualty and body recovery to confusion and frustration following the tragedy and finally, the Sherpas evaluation of their role on Everest and the increasing dangers on the mountain due to climate change.
Whilst Sherpa documents a horrific tragedy in real-time, it also acts as the dramatic backdrop for industrial dispute that's been simmering under the surface sky for a long time. Douglas concurs 'Tenzing gave the name Sherpa a currency that will never be exhausted and they are now finally beginning to take advantage of that'.
I couldn't agree more.
Sherpa is an extraordinary and soulful documentary, where there's death in beauty and beauty in death. As Tenzing Norgay says 'you don't conquer these mountains, you know; you just crawl up, as a child crawling onto your mothers lap'.
The credits have just started rolling for Mr Holmes and the first words that come to mind are 'Well, that was melancholic wasn't it'. Don't get me wrong – I enjoyed this unique and interesting reinvention of Britain's most famous detective – it's just that it feels reminiscent in theme and dynamics to Bill Condon's 1998 Oscar winning Gods and Monsters.
A faithful adaption of Mitch Cullin's A Slight Trick of the Mind, Jeffrey Hatcher's Sherlock Holmes (played by Sir Ian McKellen) is a rich and poignant re-imagination that is far from Sidney Paget's iconicised pipe-smoking, deerstalker wearing sleuth of yesteryear or the dashing, crime-solving action hero of modern cinema. He's the mystery in this film: a case where we discover the real man behind the Holmesian notoriety.
A cantankerous nonagenarian in failing health – both in mental and physical acuity – Condon's Holmes is a real person forced to acknowledge the realities of mortality and dementia and learning to find solace in new friendships with people in the prime of life.
The film begins with Holmes; now an old man aged 93, returning home to Cuckmere Haven from his journey to Japan to visit Tamiki Umezaki (Hiroyuki Sanada) in order to acquire Prickly Ash, a rare plant with powerful restorative qualities. No longer surrounded by Conan Doyle's supporting characters, Holmes whiles away his days in Sussex tending to his bees and indulging his passion for Botany all under the watchful eyes of his widowed housekeeper Mrs Munro (Laura Linney) and her young son Roger (Milo Parker) who is intrigued with the fallen hero.
Shown glimpses of his fading memory, we soon learn that Holmes remains haunted by his final case involving an aggrieved husband Thomas Kelmot (Patrick Kennedy) who is concerned for his depressed wife Ann (Hattie Morahan) – a case that forced him into retirement some 30 years earlier. Following a through line of temporal shifts between true Holmes pastiche in 1919 and the forgotten hero in present day 1947, Holmes puts pen to paper in an attempt to recall the events in 1919 that led to him getting something devastatingly wrong. If only he could remember what it was in 1947.
The filmmakers make great use of the shifting times to pay homage to early cinematic representations of the popular cult figure of Baker Street juxtaposed by the elderly man at the end of his life who is embarrassingly aware of his fictionalised self. Sharply written and oft times entertaining, Holmes unravels the myth claiming he never wore a deerstalker hat or nor liked to smoke a pipe. He even finds himself in a cinema watching his self portrayed in a Basil Rathbone-esque B-movie.
The exposition has a certain frailty to it thanks to McKellen's outstanding performance and cinematographer Tobias Schliessler's incredible camera work. From the exquisite wide- angled, intimately framed shot of McKellen walking up a hill with the White Cliffs of Dover in the rear plane to his tracking of Mrs Kelmot through the streets of Holmesian London in bursts of crisp, 15 second tracking and panning shots that are far from simple to construct, this film has award season nominee all over it.
It's wistful and witty – a real delight that may leave you a little bereft at its end.
A faithful adaption of Mitch Cullin's A Slight Trick of the Mind, Jeffrey Hatcher's Sherlock Holmes (played by Sir Ian McKellen) is a rich and poignant re-imagination that is far from Sidney Paget's iconicised pipe-smoking, deerstalker wearing sleuth of yesteryear or the dashing, crime-solving action hero of modern cinema. He's the mystery in this film: a case where we discover the real man behind the Holmesian notoriety.
A cantankerous nonagenarian in failing health – both in mental and physical acuity – Condon's Holmes is a real person forced to acknowledge the realities of mortality and dementia and learning to find solace in new friendships with people in the prime of life.
The film begins with Holmes; now an old man aged 93, returning home to Cuckmere Haven from his journey to Japan to visit Tamiki Umezaki (Hiroyuki Sanada) in order to acquire Prickly Ash, a rare plant with powerful restorative qualities. No longer surrounded by Conan Doyle's supporting characters, Holmes whiles away his days in Sussex tending to his bees and indulging his passion for Botany all under the watchful eyes of his widowed housekeeper Mrs Munro (Laura Linney) and her young son Roger (Milo Parker) who is intrigued with the fallen hero.
Shown glimpses of his fading memory, we soon learn that Holmes remains haunted by his final case involving an aggrieved husband Thomas Kelmot (Patrick Kennedy) who is concerned for his depressed wife Ann (Hattie Morahan) – a case that forced him into retirement some 30 years earlier. Following a through line of temporal shifts between true Holmes pastiche in 1919 and the forgotten hero in present day 1947, Holmes puts pen to paper in an attempt to recall the events in 1919 that led to him getting something devastatingly wrong. If only he could remember what it was in 1947.
The filmmakers make great use of the shifting times to pay homage to early cinematic representations of the popular cult figure of Baker Street juxtaposed by the elderly man at the end of his life who is embarrassingly aware of his fictionalised self. Sharply written and oft times entertaining, Holmes unravels the myth claiming he never wore a deerstalker hat or nor liked to smoke a pipe. He even finds himself in a cinema watching his self portrayed in a Basil Rathbone-esque B-movie.
The exposition has a certain frailty to it thanks to McKellen's outstanding performance and cinematographer Tobias Schliessler's incredible camera work. From the exquisite wide- angled, intimately framed shot of McKellen walking up a hill with the White Cliffs of Dover in the rear plane to his tracking of Mrs Kelmot through the streets of Holmesian London in bursts of crisp, 15 second tracking and panning shots that are far from simple to construct, this film has award season nominee all over it.
It's wistful and witty – a real delight that may leave you a little bereft at its end.
As the First World War rapidly approaches Theeb's forgotten corner of the Ottoman Empire, a Bedouin tribe is slowly adjusting to the changes brought upon them following the death of their respected Sheikh. It's a subdued, yet tightly framed portrait of tribal life seen through the youthful eyes of the Sheikh's youngest and ignorantly unskillful son, Theeb (Jacir Eid Al- Hwietat).
Turning to his middle brother Hussein (Hussein Salameh Al-Sweilhiyeen) for guidance and attention, Cinematographer Wolfgang Thaler paints an exquisitely beautiful image of Bedouin culture as Hussein patiently teaches Theeb the nuances of nomadic life: tracking, hunting, finding water and the duty of Dakheel. The images are heightened by the natural, intimate relationship between Hussein and Theeb, no doubt in part due to, their real-life familial relationship as cousins.
The quiet beauty conjured by Thaler's wide-angled shots of barren landscapes and director Naji Abu Nowar's limited palette of pale sandy hues, unhurried exposition and exotic musical score is hypnotic. The tranquility is palpable until Nowar rudely interrupts the façade with clever transition shots that unnerve the peace.
The first transition encourages audiences to proceed with caution as Theeb's eldest brother and new Sheikh Hmoud, hears unfamiliar sounds whispered in the darkness. It's a gorgeous shot watching Hmoud disappear into the night before returning like an apparition with British soldier Edward (Jack Fox) and his guide Marji (Marji Audeh) following behind him.
Requesting a guide to lead them through dangerous terrain roaming with Ottoman mercenaries and raiders to an ancient water well on the road to Mecca, Hmoud is forced into honoring Dakheel law and volunteer his Hussein to guide the strangers.
Fearful of losing his favourite brother, Theeb mischievously sets out to following Hussein before finding himself in an unforgiving predicament. Too young to track and without the necessary Bedouin survival skills, Theeb soon becomes lost and begins wandering aimlessly across the desert. Finding the safety of the group by chance, Hussein is forced to bring Theeb on his perilous journey when Edward refuses to delay his mission.
The second change in tone arrives violently as the group comes face to face with a band of murderous Bedouin raiders that leaves Theeb as the lone survivor. Forced into immediate adulthood, Theeb soon discovers the great importance of his name as he learns to survive through cunning and impossible feats.
Nowar's decision to use non-actors in his feature film debut was a ballsy move that proves to be spell-bindingly spot-on. Eid Al-Hwietat is outstanding as the precocious Theeb whilst Hassan Mutlag Al-Maraiyeh is all sorts of menacing as the ruthless Stranger. I readily admit that I was also mesmerised by Jerry Lane's score of pulsating rhythms and haunting chants so reminiscent of the Silk Road. It's also a fabulous juxtaposition to its east/west setting and its Lawrence of Arabia time period.
Nowar's inclusion of Mdallah Al-Manajah's ode about life is another inspiring selection. You can't help but be moved by its homage to Bedouin tradition of oral story telling and poetry and its words of wisdom from father to son. The meaningful words spoken in voice over drive the emotion in the establishing shot and set a powerful tone for the story that follows.
Theeb is truly a cinematic delight that you must keep your eye out for. It's exquisite, intriguing and downright thought provoking.
Turning to his middle brother Hussein (Hussein Salameh Al-Sweilhiyeen) for guidance and attention, Cinematographer Wolfgang Thaler paints an exquisitely beautiful image of Bedouin culture as Hussein patiently teaches Theeb the nuances of nomadic life: tracking, hunting, finding water and the duty of Dakheel. The images are heightened by the natural, intimate relationship between Hussein and Theeb, no doubt in part due to, their real-life familial relationship as cousins.
The quiet beauty conjured by Thaler's wide-angled shots of barren landscapes and director Naji Abu Nowar's limited palette of pale sandy hues, unhurried exposition and exotic musical score is hypnotic. The tranquility is palpable until Nowar rudely interrupts the façade with clever transition shots that unnerve the peace.
The first transition encourages audiences to proceed with caution as Theeb's eldest brother and new Sheikh Hmoud, hears unfamiliar sounds whispered in the darkness. It's a gorgeous shot watching Hmoud disappear into the night before returning like an apparition with British soldier Edward (Jack Fox) and his guide Marji (Marji Audeh) following behind him.
Requesting a guide to lead them through dangerous terrain roaming with Ottoman mercenaries and raiders to an ancient water well on the road to Mecca, Hmoud is forced into honoring Dakheel law and volunteer his Hussein to guide the strangers.
Fearful of losing his favourite brother, Theeb mischievously sets out to following Hussein before finding himself in an unforgiving predicament. Too young to track and without the necessary Bedouin survival skills, Theeb soon becomes lost and begins wandering aimlessly across the desert. Finding the safety of the group by chance, Hussein is forced to bring Theeb on his perilous journey when Edward refuses to delay his mission.
The second change in tone arrives violently as the group comes face to face with a band of murderous Bedouin raiders that leaves Theeb as the lone survivor. Forced into immediate adulthood, Theeb soon discovers the great importance of his name as he learns to survive through cunning and impossible feats.
Nowar's decision to use non-actors in his feature film debut was a ballsy move that proves to be spell-bindingly spot-on. Eid Al-Hwietat is outstanding as the precocious Theeb whilst Hassan Mutlag Al-Maraiyeh is all sorts of menacing as the ruthless Stranger. I readily admit that I was also mesmerised by Jerry Lane's score of pulsating rhythms and haunting chants so reminiscent of the Silk Road. It's also a fabulous juxtaposition to its east/west setting and its Lawrence of Arabia time period.
Nowar's inclusion of Mdallah Al-Manajah's ode about life is another inspiring selection. You can't help but be moved by its homage to Bedouin tradition of oral story telling and poetry and its words of wisdom from father to son. The meaningful words spoken in voice over drive the emotion in the establishing shot and set a powerful tone for the story that follows.
Theeb is truly a cinematic delight that you must keep your eye out for. It's exquisite, intriguing and downright thought provoking.