NYFF: Aquarius team wows again with "Bacurau"

by Jason Adams

You think you know somebody. You think you've got it all figured out. You think you sit down to a movie at the New York Film Festival you're gonna see something respectable -- something serious and challenging. But hyper-violent revenge westerns? Those are for Toronto. 

Well Kleber Mendonça Filho and Juliano Dornelles' film Bacurau already played Toronto, and now it is playing NYFF, and it somehow splits the difference -- it's somehow an ass-blistering revenge fable with exploding heads, while also being a deadly serious story of an indigenous community terrorized by big business interests. It is, quite simply, the sort of movie we'll look back on from the future -- assuming there is a future -- and say, "Yup, that got it just right..."

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NYFF: Albert Serra's idea of "Liberté"

by Jason Adams

What better way to make a movie about sadomasochism than to inflict that relationship on the viewer? That seems to have been the grain of an idea that ignited Albert Serra to make Liberté, at least -- a fascinating nightmare slog that actively pokes you in the eye while also lulling you to sleep. I say all this with a sort of admiration! Perhaps I was brainwashed a bit by the time it was through but I certainly haven't been able to stop thinking about Liberté since I fell under its awful spell days ago, and that's got to count for something.

Somewhere in a patchy nighttime forest in 18th Century France an assemblage of powder-puffs, mostly men but with a couple of corseted ladies who keep caged up in their litter boxes -- the proper word is really "palanquin" but "litter box" will totally make sense once you've seen/suffered the movie -- have gathered to cavort. And cavort they shall, in the slowest of motions...

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NYFF: The color-filled noir of "The Wild Goose Lake"

by Jason Adams

Police officers close in on and surround a perp, their light-up dance sneakers blinking blue with every step. Hotel rooms half orange half pink, a sleepless phantasmagoria. A panicked streak through a zoo in the middle of night, flashes of light illuminating a tiger, an elephant, a succession of wild animal eyes in extreme close-up, blinking back madness. The Wild Goose Lake, the latest film from Black Coal Thin Ice director Yi'nan Diao, turns the crowded alleys and markets of Wuhan, Central China, into some sort of neon fever dream -- a riot of crime and color and scooter rides straight to hell, bang bang.

Starting off like a variation on The Warriors we first meet our characters gathered for an underground syndicate meeting -- everybody's come together to divide up the city, block by block, street by street...

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Al Pacino May Meet Oscar Again

by Murtada Elfadl

Oscar may call an old favourite's name again this year. Al Pacino, an eight-time nominee, has not been recognized by his peers in the Academy since he won for Scent of a Woman (1992) more than a quarter century ago. However in Martin Scorsese The Irishman he finally gets a showcase part that will likely bring him back to the ceremony. 

In this story of American moral decay and gangland infiltration into all structures of American society, Pacino plays Jimmy Hoffa the controversial leader of the country’s strongest union, the Teamsters. The film tracks his involvement with the mafia particularly his friendship with hitman Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro). It’s not only a great part but a flashy and memorable one particularly in comparison with the quieter tones that his co-stars De Niro and Joe Pesci have to play...

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NYFF: "The Irishman"

Jason Adams  reporting on the opening night of the New York Film Festival

A camera stalks through the hallways of what we typically call an Old Folks Home. Old Folks. Ever think about that phrase? Disarming in its literal folksiness -- it's in truth a place where the day breaks are taken to pick out caskets. So the camera tracks through the Old Folks Home like so many cameras have tracked through Martin Scorsese's so many movies -- through the nightclubs in Goodfellas and the trading rooms and offices in The Wolf of Wall Street, the muddy mountain sides of Silence. We have walked with this man's camera through space and time together and now here we are, all of us Old Folks, stalking one another down antiseptic corridors on shaky wheels.

The camera comes to rest on Robert De Niro, as it must. De Niro looks old -- older than the actor looks right now in real life, and older than his character Frank Sheeran will look for the majority of The Irishman thanks to the (occasionally spotty) state of the art technology that will pinken his cheeks and taut up his neck flesh as the tale he starts to tell us winds us back, way back in time...

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