La tierra y la sombra (Land and Shade)

A deadbeat returns to his family after hearing that his son is ill, having been gone for more than a decade, their struggles dourly contrasting his self-obsession.

Their home rests amidst acres upon acres of sugar cane, and they desperately rely on the income it provides.

But that income is not so easy to come by, as managers find excuses to withhold payments, and workers vigorously protest to ensure their compensation.

Alfonso (Haimer Leal) casts a troubled shadow on the plight of his former community, as he bonds with his grandson, and must yield to his wife's animosity.

An impoverished people attempts to garner respect meanwhile, struggling through the ages, making the most of their meagre opportunities.

Sadness, mourning, La tierra y la sombra (Land and Shade) blesses the salt of the earth with a refined bittersweet caring perseverance, valuing conviction as opposed to derivatives, the integrity of the daily grind.

The juxtaposition between Alfonso and his family sombrely furrows the sorrow, while forgiveness considers the worth of his presence, like a welcoming balm, pleasantly mitigating despair.

It champions solidarity rather than dramatizing drifting, the gilded courage embodied in action, a location, a tradition, jobs, the oppressed and the obstinate, ageless timeless plunder.

Down home determination.

Inveterate will.

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.

The Timekeeper

52 days, 52 miles of track. A labour camp deep in the Canadian wilderness, far away from any representatives of law and order. Within, Louis Bélanger's The Timekeeper presents a wanton battle of wills between two opposing viewpoints, one, that of a brutal manager, i.e. "let's get the job done, quit whining and do as I tell you," the other, that of a worker, who tries to honestly and loyally stick up for the rights of his companions. Sooner than later, the worker (Craig Olejnik as Martin Bishop) is relieved of his duties and forced to feed off garbage scraps while encouraging his fellow outcasts to engage in acts of subversion (which include doing a good job). The ideals built into the film's dialectic are populated with secondary characters who deconstruct its attempts to depict one side as absolutely correct, and The Timekeeper's climax suggests that personal integrity requires a firm constitution to remain resolute after being thoroughly beaten down by the powers that be. Cast out, resourceless, starving, and scared, Martin Bishop has only his wits and his belief in right and wrong to psychologically finance his activities, and no matter how successful, still must submit to Fisk's (Stephen McHattie) order of things. Occasionally maudlin while remaining provocative, Bélanger's vision pastorally elucidates the pressures confronting vocal critical dispositions, and doesn't pacify the hard times facing those who possess them. Complete with dynamic shots of Canada's boreal forest (cinematography by Guy Dufaux), and a reverberating soundtrack which enriches its aesthetic, Bélanger's film suggests that authority (age) is indeed in control, while employees (youth) must suck it up or deal with the (potentially elevating) consequences. Financial stability, individual sincerity, or a lifestyle somewhere in between? S'pose it's all just a matter of how one keeps their time.

Robin Hood

Ridley Scott's Robin Hood presents an epic, complicated tale almost worthy of the designation legend. The plot is dense and starts out intense but its momentum relents as its second half falters. Here's the situation: King Richard the Lionheart (Danny Huston) has been crusading for a decade and is about to return home. In England, his less courageous brother Prince John (Oscar Isaac) has been ruling in his stead. Prince John's right-hand-man Godfrey (Mark Strong) strikes a deal with King Philip of France (Jonathan Zaccaï) in which he agrees to kill Richard and then convince John to brutally tax his citizens, thereby fomenting revolution. Then, after civil war has ravaged England, the French can invade and ruthlessly plunder the country.

However, Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe), an honest member of King Richard's crusade, has other plans in mind. After rescuing the English crown from Godfrey's clutches, he returns it to the Royal Family and then sets out for Nottingham in order to reunite a fallen comrade's sword with his father. When said father (Max von Sydow as Sir Walter Loxley) discovers his son is dead, he asks Robin to pretend that he is that very same son, so that if he should pass on, his lands won't fall into the hands of King John. Robin agrees, and, after convincing his new wife, the somewhat upset Marion Loxley (Cate Blanchett), that he's not a scoundrel, begins to restore justice to the region with the help of his Merry Men (Mark Addy as Friar Tuck, Kevin Durand as Little John, Scott Grimes as Will Scarlet, and Alan Doyle as Allan A'Dayle). Fortunately for Robin, Sir Walter also remembers his father (Mark Lewis Jones), who was killed when Robin was 6, and is able to help him rediscover related memories.

There's much more to Robin Hood's plot than what I've presented above. Political intrigue, ethical imbroglios, spiritual reflections, working class rights, aristocratic wisdom, feminine strength, and feudal customs are also synthesized within to create a byzantine portrait of Polanskian proportions. Even with all these intertwined dimensions, each presenting their points directly and/or covertly, Scott and scriptwriter Brian Helgeland still manage to create deeper layers of provocative sensation, showing how the defenders of a French castle take the time to eat during a siege, dealing with 12th century orphanage issues, depicting greed as a conniving hydra, delicately integrating provincial and "urban" life, and lampooning conceptions such as the divine right of kings. Then, as if worried that all of these plot twists have alienated their audience, the film's last section concerns itself with Godfrey's revenge quest and a ridiculous battle, shooting arrows to the wind, building cliché on cliché stick by stick, the multitude of twists and turns requiring closure which is rushed in order to prevent the film from lasting three hours. Robin Hood's ambitions are grand and its narrative multidimensional, but its dénouement suffers beneath the weight of its bulk, and can't support its synthetic structure. It's nice to see the legend of Robin Hood reimagined and intellectualized, Scott's film providing it with unprecedented layers of historical intensification. But the ending made me wish they had localized the story so we could have spent more time with Robin Hood and his Merry Men, its ineffective grandiose form causing me to wish for more regionalized content. Which is the perfect recipe for setting up a sequel, which I'll probably see, and then complain about having seen.