VIFF '10 Review: Denmark's 'R' A Response To 'A Prophet' But Also Its Own Beast

Trends in film are inevitable. If a certain genre or style of film is successful, filmmakers, like sharks hovering around a dead carcass, will chew off a chunk of flesh for themselves, hoping to recapture something that's worked already. This happens every year, it seems.

Because this is so common in movies, the gritty Danish prison drama "R" will be unable to escape comparisons to Jacques Audiard's "A Prophet," which hit it big at Cannes last year (taking home the Grand Jury Prize, essentially runner-up to Michael Haneke's excellent "The White Ribbon"), then found critical success in the States while also picking up a Best Foreign Language Film nomination at last year's Oscars. Whether intentional or by happenstance on the part of writing/directing duo Michael Noer and Tobias Lindholm, the films are inexorably linked.

The film opens when Rune (an excellent Johan Philip Asbæk, looking like a shorter, blond-haired Michael Shannon) is delivered to one of Denmark's oldest and meanest prisons, and subsequently assigned to the most dangerous part. "What did you do to end up in that ward?" a guard asks him. "The others are twice your size, and they're waiting for you. They know you're coming." He's not kidding, there are men in this film of such towering stature, they impose on the camera. The frame is almost unable to contain some of them. The saying "fly on a wall" feels literal here. The audience is merely a speck, a cockroach, looking up at tattooed, pierced giants -- real-life ex-cons and former prison guards make up most of the cast -- onscreen.

From the opening 20 minutes, I was sure I'd already figured this film out. The stakes and setting are laid out well, if not in a very familiar way. We enter the prison, meet our naive protagonist, he strips down for a full body cavity search, is put in his cell, and has to immediately defend his ground. Seeing our hero as a weakling, The Mason, as he's known, wastes no time in forcing Rune's hand in to violence. "You either fuck somebody up, or you get fucked up," he tells him on their first meeting in the prison yard. They want a Muslim prisoner killed. Rune takes the assignment, proving to be more resourceful and vicious then we at first suspect. The murder that follows sets the tone for the rest of the film. It's brutal, unflinching and all-too realistic.

Sound familiar? So this is clearly a rip-off of "A Prophet," then, right? Wrong, actually. It's almost as if the filmmakers had seen Audiard's masterful prison gangster epic -- a more nuanced, detailed and realistic take on the criminal ascending the ranks tale; basically "Scarface" for the arthouse crowd -- and wanted their film to appear so similar at first that it would trick the audience. Rune quickly learns to navigate the system and raise his status in the inmate hierarchy, using his wits with a touch of good fortune. He's an impulsive cleaner, which comes in handy, leading to an opportunity for him to get in on the drug dealing run by The Mason's boss, a man that could've been a worthy adversary to Arnold Schwarzenegger in one of his countless '80s action bloodbaths.

Then there's a moment where it becomes all too clear Noer and Lindholm have other things in mind for their film and lead character. It's almost Hitchcockian, in a way. "A Prophet" proposes that through knowledge and education, the lead character can go all the way to the top. The thesis in "R" is much harsher, more pragmatic: the weak will always be weak in this place, and control of one's fate in this world is but an illusion for people like Rune. He's got the wherewithal to find success (in this case, merely surviving), but that's not enough. There are consequences to screwing up in this environment, and retribution is inevitable; life has little meaning in this self-contained world and film.

The turns of the plot jar the viewer out of that once comforting sense of familiarity. All of a sudden, we're in a different story altogether. Someone else's new nightmare. Cinephiles unfortunately often relish being a step ahead of a film; we've seen it all, so you can't surprise us. When that's subverted as it is so brilliantly here, you have to take your hat off to the artists who pulled it off. That's not to infer "R" is merely a one-trick pony. Far from it, the twists and diversions in the narrative add more pathos, more subtext. It becomes deeper and even more grim.

Cinematographer Magnus Nordenhof Jønck employs stylistic elements and techniques not unlike Refn's "Pusher Trilogy," favoring an always mobile, hand-held camera, like a documentarian always ready to catch the next sudden act of violence or drug deal. This on-the-street style, perfected by Scorsese in "Mean Streets," is used a lot these days, to be sure, but when done right (as it is here), it lends the film a sense of visceral urgency that is wholly appropriate. You certainly can't say that about 'Prophet', which is far more graceful and poetic in its imagery and violence. So the comparisons must end there, for "R" is yet another prison movie worth seeking out, because it chooses its own path in the genre, and carves out something sad and artful in return. [A-]

Trailer [via Twitch] below

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NYFF '10: 'A Letter To Elia,' Is Thoughtful & Loving Note From Martin Scorsese

When it was learned that Martin Scorsese would be constructing a film-essay piece centering around the films of seminal American director Elia Kazan -- the man responsible for cinematic touchstones like "On the Waterfront," "East Of Eden," and "A Face In The Crowd" to name just a few -- cinephiles began salivating at the thought.

True, these visual dissertations aren't always the most exciting bodies of work, but those who know anything about Marty himself know he's a human catacomb of cinema knowledge. Despite his spotty recent offerings, there's no question that he really, really knows his shit, so a focus on any filmmaker should prove to be nothing short of fantastic. Naysayers too focused on his current output ought to check out his incredible and exhausting study of American films, the conveniently titled "A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies," which is probably most similar to this project. Will "A Letter to Elia" similarly restore one's faith in the director and be more up-to-par with his universally lauded classic films?

It certainly seems like it, as the piece (co-directed by Kent Jones) is terrifically well-thought and immensely enjoyable. The most successful element in the essay is the fact that it is made to please everyone, functioning for fans and non-fans alike, and doesn't suffer from it. Beginning with "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" and ending with "America, America," Scorsese argues the worth of Kazan's films, including nice things to say about his debut feature 'Brooklyn' that he didn't even consider one of his personal best. Die hard Kazanites will love the extensive analysis, and even those who weren't convinced of his excellence are likely to take a second look at his oeuvre. Marty's passion for cinema is most apparent in these moments, as he describes why each is an accomplished piece of work and the different ways he's perceived them as both a child and an adult, always holding them close and even using them as reference when directing the actors in his own films, however different they are from Kazan's.

On paper, the structure of the essay is typical: it mixes film footage, still photographs, and shots of the narrator speaking directly to the camera. Luckily, the strength and flow of the footage in addition to Scorsese's intense enthusiasm for the subject manage to surpass the conventional framework. Even the selection of clips is oddly masterful, if only because it's not relegated to the obvious choice of general conflict scenes. Instead, myriad scenes are focused on; ones that differ in emotion, pace, and tone. From Marlon Brando confronting his brother in "On the Waterfront," to a seemingly simple dialogue scene in "Wild River," Kazan's mastery of the medium is obvious, and Scorsese takes a backseat with his vocal arguments and allows the clips to speak for themselves. He seems to know exactly when to bow out, and exactly when to shift to a different motion picture or topic. Nothing in "A Letter to Elia" overstays its welcome, thankfully, and Scorsese's smart enough to know that any large amount of speech will bore an audience regardless of the topic or speaker, and he's also smart enough to play just enough of a film to incite audiences everywhere to quickly fill their Netflix queue with the appropriate DVDs.

He soon delves into his personal relationship with the subject, one that started when he was just a film student at the prestigious New York University. Kazan originally blew him off when he was approached after a guest lecture, though later started a friendship after the "Raging Bull" director had a few films in the can. Aside from a rough start, the two had a pleasant time together, with Marty quipping "He liked some of my films, and he told me, and he didn't like some of my films... and he told me that, too." Companions were rare to come by for Kazan, who infamously took the stand in the 1950s to testify in front of the House Committee on Un-American Activities.

Using his earlier involvement in an American communist group, the courts coerced him to name names and the incident tarnished his career irrevocably. It was a moment of weakness that the director was never proud of, and unfortunately one that affected his later career. Many infamously scoffed and scowled at his Lifetime Achievement Oscar, though a few figures such as Warren Beatty stood in his defense. It's here where the film becomes more than just a rundown of memorable work by someone well-known in the film community. Scorsese, who always found it difficult to speak to Kazan about how much his work meant to him, steps up to the plate and fights for the man, arguing that his body of work is rich and that he shouldn't be completely discredited for one mistake, regardless of how grand it was. The movies speak for themselves. It is through cinema that Scorsese not only pays respect to a friend, but also is finally comfortable enough to spill his heart out to a mentor. It's without a doubt one of Scorsese's most personal projects, and it's so invigorating that you can feel the heart of the project.

Just about the only negative thing is that the doc really has no replay value, once you get through the review of movies and truly understand Scorsese's plight, there's not much to come back for. That said, it's still worth the time, and at an briskly paced 60 minutes there's really no excuse. Recently acquired by PBS and premiering October 4th, "A Letter to Elia" will also be available in the monster 15-Disc Elia Kazan boxset on November 9th. [A]

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Go Get Your Shinebox: 'Goodfellas' TV Series In The Works

Given that the Martin Scorsese produced "Boardwalk Empire" was renewed for a second season HBO after just one episode (you can see the preview for episode two after the jump), it's no surprise that Warner Bros. TV is eying a series based on the stone cold classic, "Goodfellas."

Obviously, where it will pick up in the "Goodfellas" timeline remains unclear, but Nicholas Pileggi is said to be writing at least the series pilot and Irwin Winkler is on board to produce. Martin Scorsese's participation is unclear at this point, but we would imagine he will want to be involved on some level. While this is potentially exciting, TV series' based on movies have had a spotty history at best and given the film it will be tough shoes to fill the roles adequately that the likes of Ray Liotta, Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and Paul Sorvino made so iconic.

At any rate, while we wait for more news about this project to surface, do yourself a huge favor and spend a few minutes reading GQ's excellent oral history of the film by pretty much everyone involved in the film. There are way too many juicy anecdotes to recount here but our favorite? The story that the famous "Copacabana" steadicam shot started initially as Martin Scorsese wanting to top Brian De Palma's lengthy shot in "The Untouchables." As Illeana Douglas recalls, "Brian De Palma had just done this incredibly long Steadicam shot in The Untouchables, and Marty said it would be funny to try to do it one minute longer than De Palma's. The world perceives this as 'Oh, the Copacabana scene!' But what it really is, is directors behind the scenes having fun fucking with each other."

But perhaps even more hilariously, steadicam operator Larry McConkey thought that Scorsese had no idea what he doing and the shot was ridiculous saying, "The impression I had when Marty walked us through the Copacabana shot was that this is going to be the most boring, worst thing I've ever done. We're walking across the street, down the stairs, down a hallway, in the kitchen.... What is this shot about?"

Seriously, the piece is great which lots of interesting nuggets including that at one point Tom Cruise, Madonna and John Malkovich were being considered for the roles of Henry, Karen and Jimmy Conway respectively. Uh....what?

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