The Death of Stalin

It seems like for every 100 films which vilify Nazism, 0 are made to condemn its Soviet counterpart.

Perhaps releasing 10 to 20 films a year which accentuated Soviet atrocities would have increased hostilities with Russia, currently or during the official cold war, and increasing hostilities with a proud heavily armed powerful nation is usually a sign of imprudent planning, unless they're taking out spies in broad daylight in parks on your home turf, even if sundry artists would have been free to define themselves thereby.

But leaving the communists out of the master narrative means that narrative focuses exclusively on the fascists, there's no counterbalance, no secondary ideological agenda, and even if World War II films bluntly emasculate Nazi ideals they still constantly manifest them, and keep them widely circulating within mass consciousnesses.

Even though Nazism is condemned it's still present, year after year, film after film, the war ended 73 years ago and its impact is still threatening, not just as a reminder of past horrors, it should always be there to remind new generations of its horrors (see The Lord of the Rings[there are still a ton of World War II films released every year]), but as a formidable subject that many directors (I imagine) feel compelled to characterize.

Communism isn't there and its absence is curious.

If you want a populace to forget or at least not focus on something you don't advertise it constantly, obviously enough, although, obviously again, it will certainly persist in the underground, or above ground with notable sympathetic academic and unionized groups.

Plus continental Europe.

So why did the capitalists want the masses to remember fascism and forget about communism?

The question isn't as absurd as it sounds, even if Nazis and Soviets were equally destructive.

With the rise of extreme comedy, Armando Iannucci's The Death of Stalin recasts fascist psycho humour with practical communist applications, by making light of Soviet purges and terrors, as the highest ranking CCCP leaders connive following the tyrant's death.

Time and care is taken to make them look mediocre, except for Field Marshal Zhukov (Jason Isaacs), who defeated Germany, and while watching the film I couldn't help thinking how embarrassing it would have been if one of them had sent me to the Gulag.

Or executed me.

With the number of corpses that pile up throughout it's clear that it's meant to be ridiculous, although I suppose their exaggerations are the contemporary byproduct of a system that did routinely butcher its own citizens, and living in such circumstances would make one instinctually paranoid and vindictive as if every day you weren't exiled or shot was indeed a horrifying secular blessing.

As the public sphere becomes more sensational, the White House discrediting porn stars in recent weeks for instance, I suppose the ridiculous becomes less absurd and monstrosities pass without comment because the simple act of acknowledging them will imperil your life.

So perhaps The Death of Stalin's not as ridiculous as it seems.

Perhaps it uses an abandoned method of expression to indirectly and ironically comment upon the rise of right wing populism in order to subliminally trash its misguided cynical optimism?

Either that or it's cashing in on misery.

Strange epoch, this insincere period of time.

La Danza de la Realidad

Alejandro Jodorowsky revisits his childhood in La Danza de la Realidad, where the imagination selectively sways and protectively converges, inconclusive conflict coordinating innocent essentials, a Stalinesque father (Brontis Jodorowsky) bringing the pain, familial embarrassment and shame aggrandizing his persecution, little Alejandro (Jeremias Herskovits) responding with ardour, confusing projections of the masculine violently suppressing his sense of wonder, various community members avuncularly interacting, his poetic mother (Pamela Flores), nurturing his ability to relate.

Like weirdsville on steroids, the poetic and pugilistic merge to forge one of the greatest filmmakers of all time, as he crafts his first film in over two decades, fantasy fascinatingly swathing, the concrete, cruel, and confiscated.

His mother only sings.

Communism is comedically yet fatalistically skewered.

Superpowers are enlisted to fight fascism.

Between these extremes, individuality speaks up, as the feminine attempts to nest her husband's flight from himself.

Natal helpless inquisitive comedic old-world zealous tragedy permeates the film's practical ideology, as politics and religion challenge a commitment to child-rearing, the application of a big picture cause to a singular immigrant family entices, its contradictions featuring its humanism, creativity conversed as its fulcrum.

Difficult times at points for young Alejandro.

What a survivor.

Masculin féminin: 15 faits précis

Answers and questions. Definitions and commitment. Meaning and possibility. Love. Jean-Luc Godard's Masculin féminin situates and interrogates his uncertain conception of Parisian ideology within a diverse realistic quotidian brand of surrealism which effectively simulates a dynamically fluctuating resolution. Practically searching for truths and realizations in accordance with predetermined principles can have a disillusioning affect when trying to place them within one's expectations of an other, based upon interpretations of historical interactions, especially when such principles are being simultaneously synthetically analyzed. But this doesn't prevent Paul (Jean-Pierre Léaud) from continuing to interact with and observe his community as partner Madeleine (Chantal Goya) becomes a pop star. Many scenes are robust, showcasing differing points of view quickly and acutely yet calmly and pensively, while eating breakfast in a café for instance, the actors eating and drinking throughout, like a well-executed preplanned orchestration of randomly improvised daily life, with just enough absurd happenings to make sure it isn't taking itself to seriously. Stop analyzing things and you may have an easier time unless analyzing things makes you happy (assuming happiness is a possibility). Cultural tropes (interviews for pop magazines . . .) are subtly satirized and recast to reelevate their "insert your adjective" recognitions. I have no idea what this film is about. And I used a lot of big words.

Mao's Last Dancer

Bruce Beresford's Mao's Last Dancer presents the defection of Chinese dancer Li Cunxin (Chi Cao, Chengwu Guo, and Wen Bin Huang) to the United States during the 1980s. Raised on communist ideology, Li is grateful for the opportunities granted to him as a child but fearful of his government's attitude regarding criticism. He is born in a remote village and one day fortunately granted the opportunity to move to Beijing and study ballet. His resolve is determined and his attitude strict and even though he possesses less strength than his counterparts, he puts in the extra work necessary to be competitive. In 1980, Ben Stevenson (Bruce Greenwood) from the Houston Ballet visits his school and is impressed by his work, which he notes for being more fluid than the other dancers. He then convinces the Chinese Government to allow one of their dancers to come to Houston for a summer and study American techniques; fortunately, Li is chosen. Li begins his cultural studies with a distrustful eye, but after discovering that social codes are more lenient in the States (and falling in love), he marries his partner (Amanda Schull as Elizabeth Mackey) and refuses to return home. Afterwards, he must accept the consequences of having made a hasty marriage in a foreign country while making ends meet as a contract dancer.

Li is lucky enough to find a suitable job and maintain a healthy standard of living. His personal struggles are presented, but, like most of the issues brought up in broad biographies, don't receive sustained critical analysis (so much information must be condensed into brief scenes that a lot of the potential drama unreels superficially). A scene where Li discovers his good fortune after encountering similarly talented Chinese immigrants who weren't so successful would have been more realistic. The Chinese are depicted as being overly obsessed concerning the maintenance of a prominent cultural place for Mao's revolution (dancing must be political for instance), and an atmosphere of tension permeates their scenes. At the same time, the punishments you would expect to be draconian are antiseptic and the non-governmental social interactions are generally innocuous. Mao's Last Dancer is a family friendly film, gingerly presenting the ways in which a youthful artist audaciously if not rashly follows his heart and lives a troubled yet successful life as a consequence. Nevertheless, prominent issues such as racism, cross cultural integration, economic destitution, and political reconstitutions are not adequately interrogated within, and the film would have been stronger if another hour had been added to provide these dimensions with more serious attention.

Chernaya Molniya (Black Lightning) (Fantasia Fest 2010)

You're in university, hard working, dreaming of a better life, studious, intelligent, determined. Your parents have sacrificed and saved enough to give you a shot and you're respectful of what they've done for you. But suddenly you're tempted by the capitalistic individualist dream, wherein one helps only themselves looking out solely for their own interests. Little do you know that the professor whose lecture you've taken to heart has created a massive drill and is trying to mine diamonds located at the centre of Moscow's geological foundation, in order to supplement his astronomical wealth at the expense of Russia's most fabled city. You embrace an ideology that doesn't gel with your constitution and wind up losing your life's most important role model, feeling destitute and barren in the aftermath. But you have one saving grace: your new car, a volga from the Soviet-era, is powered by the most advanced technology on the planet, converting regular gasoline into a potent super fuel, and can fly. Hence, there's only one solution: turn that flying car into a robust dispenser of justice and become Moscow's leading super hero.

Once you get over the fact that no one ever notices the volga suddenly taking off and flying into the air, Dmitriy Kiselev and Aleksandr Talal's Chernaya Molniya (Black Lightning) becomes a contemporary old world heroic delicacy, cured with a Russian comedic sensibility. The film calls upon the younger generation of Russians to remember the positive characteristics of communist ideals (helping people out, access and opportunity for all) (represented by Dima's Father [Sergey Garmash]) and use them to strike down rapacious capitalists (Victor Kuptsov played by Viktor Verzhbitskiy) and forge a more ethical economic infrastructure. Will Dima (Grigoriy Dobrygin) be able to use Black Lightning to stop Kuptsov's drill, thereby saving Moscow just in time for this new socially responsible space to develop, or will Kuptsov's immutable greed destroy Russia's historical integrity and send them spiralling down an oligarchic Republican path? The showdown takes place in Red Square on New Year's Eve.

The Trotsky

This is just a personal impression to which I don't mean to attach any objective legitimacy, but I've noticed a lot of jaded apathy regarding left wing collective political movements in several cultural/interpersonal/social domains in recent years, and it's somewhat distressing. Perhaps I spend to much time watching and reading texts manufactured according to conservative ideological guidelines and hanging out with people who regard the adoption of a republican ethos to be a sign of maturity, but the older I get the less I encounter persons who believe in the collective good of unionized activity and the fact that there are people out there who are trying to use political systems to promote social justice as opposed to establishing a maniacal cult (the republican trope of turning the person-of-the-people into a power hungry demagogue is frustrating). Jacob Tierney's brilliant new film The Trotsky astutely addresses this phenomenon by presenting us with Leon Bronstein (Jay Baruchel), a teenager from Montréal who believes he is the reincarnation of Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky. Leon believes in social justice and is willing to stand up to the powers that be (notably his dad [Saul Rubinek] and high school principal [Colm Feore]) in order to promote egalitarianism and fight the fascists. His commitment and dedication to fighting apathy and disengagement throughout are inspiring especially considering the strength of his opponents. The film's an edgy comedic romantic reinvigoration of unionized labour which provides a glimpse of how social change requires a firm commitment and multiple voices in order for its message to uniformly spread. It's definitely an uphill battle, but hopefully Leon will motivate more labour activists to keep fighting the forces of imperialism. With an exceptional soundtrack by Malajube.

Up the Yangtze

Yung Chang's Up the Yangtze examines the genesis of the Three Gorges Dam within China and its affects upon a family and various citizens. The ways in which the dam's ethical ends are contradicted by its constructed means are prominently highlighted as the not-so-well-off are bullied and forced to move without compensation. These bullies are contrasted by the administrators of a tourist organization who dismiss an employee for only looking out for himself, perhaps suggesting that only those in positions of power have the wherewithal to define. The cross-section of tourists presented is juxtaposed with the plight of the common people as they travel the catered results of a modern engineering marvel while searching for signs of ancient traditions. A well executed profound documentary which provides an insightful glimpse into the tectonic realm of the human factor, Up the Yangtze challenges the designers and implementors of massive public works projects to remember the present needs of their future benefactors while also illustrating the virtues of a social safety net.