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Review by Daniel Lima  Lakshya in Kill. Courtesy of Roadside Attractions. I distinctly remember that in the fall of 2023, I was listening to an interview with stuntman/action director Lee Whittaker about his experiences working within the various Indian film industries (on Action Talks with Eric Jacobus, highly recommended). At one point, he was asked whether it would ever be possible for an Indian filmmaker to make something akin to the Indonesian film The Raid, that is, a stripped-down, brutal action film that abandons the ample melodrama and gravity-defying opulence of many Indian blockbusters in favor of a more grounded genre experience. It’s a question that made me chuckle, as while the interview was months old, the Hindi actioner Kill had just premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival, and it promised precisely that. The film has consistently been described as “The Raid on a Train,” and there’s no better way to do so. An army commando finds himself on a train that dozens of bandits have taken over, and it’s up to him to take them down. The film is under two hours, set almost entirely in one location, the fights are visceral and violent to an almost shocking degree, and there is only the barest amount of narrative groundwork laid. In short… it’s The Raid on a train. Obviously, the selling point here is the action, as hyperviolent and frantic as one would expect, given its obvious influences. Pitted against such an overwhelming force, the protagonist is forced to use every tool at his disposal against his foes, including the claustrophobic environment. To that end, the choreography departs from the typical Indian style of pseudo-superheroics, instead adopting a more realistic approach. Well, as realistic as carving through forty armed men can be. Throughout the many, many fights, characters utilize whatever weapons they can, from knives to canes to guns to fire extinguishers. Navigating the confined space provides an additional challenge and aids in combat, restricting movement but allowing one man to take on many without being swarmed. While limited to only one setting, there is a deliberate attempt to break up the visual staleness of the surroundings and introduce new dynamics to the action: taking a fight to the bathroom, opening a locked door while a friend provides cover, facing down one particularly large adversary. And, of course, all of this is uncompromisingly bloody, with an almost overwhelming amount of stabbing, mauling, cutting, and killing. It’s all admirably intricate, as one could expect from the action director pairing of Parvez Shaikh and Se-yeong Oh (who previously collaborated on films such as War and Tiger 3). However, it cannot be helped that there is a sameness to all the action, largely because of a lack of variance in both the actual choreography and the intensity of the action. Violence breaks out about fifteen minutes into the film and carries on at the same level for the next hour and a half. Considering the premise, we will inevitably see the number of villains dwindle, and there is a dwindling return on the impact of all the gore. Worse yet, there is little to distinguish all the combatants while they are fighting, as impressive as it all is to coordinate. Watching The Raid, there is a clear difference in how all the characters fight, befitting their personalities and the martial abilities of their actors. That personal touch is lacking here, and by the end, it all blends together.  Lakshya in Kill. Courtesy of Roadside Attractions. Adding to this effect is the strength of the narrative, or lack thereof. As silly as it seems to critique a film like this for how it establishes its ensemble, it must be said that the short amount of time spent with them is not enough to engender any strong feelings about whether they survive. There is an atmosphere that anyone may die at any moment, but it is impossible to care, since they are all so thinly sketched anyway. If anything, the perfunctory romance that serves as the protagonist’s motivation actually does the movie a disservice, as the treatment of the love interest feels almost distasteful. Even the villains, as dastardly and cruel as they are, never feel particularly threatening to the commando hero.
None of this would matter if this movie delivered action that felt as fresh and exciting as its inspiration. Unfortunately, we already have The Raid, and plenty of other action movies have taken their own cues from that film’s brand of grounded martial arts mayhem. This raises the question: why is the thought of an Indian take on this same style appealing in the first place? As over-the-top and bloated as many Indian blockbusters can be, it is a style that other industries around the world are slow to draw influence from. Is it not more exciting to see the lengths that minds like Anbariv, Dhilip Subbarayan, or even an imported talent like Yannick Ben push the homegrown approach to stage action, rather than see the likes of Bollywood, Tollywood, and Kollywood adopt the same thing everyone else is? All that said, it’s not like Kill is not successful at what it does. For those looking for frenetic, close-quarters combat that leaves pools of blood on the floor and ears ringing with the sounds of crunching bones and disembowelment, this will supply that. Despite its missteps, it’s not even a bad version of its premise. Seeing the diversity and singular nature of Indian action cinema today, however, we should expect more than just “The Raid on a Train.” Kill hits theaters July 4. Rating: 3.5/5
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Review by Daniel Lima  No one knew how to name a movie like Italians in the 1970’s. The Red Queen Kills Seven Times. Hey Amigo! A Toast to Your Death. Watch Me When I Kill. No matter how middling the movie, it was often accompanied by a distinct and evocative title that promised intrigue and danger. In that way, The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer is something of a spiritual successor. Unfortunately, it also shares something else with those earlier films: it does not deliver on that promise. John Magaro plays the titular writer, who has been working on his second book for years with no end in sight. His literary agent has become disinterested in him, his marriage is on the rocks, and he can do no more than lamely explain to anyone who will listen how his novel is about the last Neanderthal. It’s at this low point of his life that a stranger approaches him with an offer: write a story based on the stranger’s former life as a serial killer. When Magaro’s wife finds the stranger in her home, the two pretend he is a marriage counselor, setting up an interesting dynamic that does not ever pay off. The premise sounds like ample ground for some black comedy hijinks or the setup to a dark comparison between relationships between romantic partners and those formed by murderers and their victims. While there is a paltry attempt to do this, the film takes so long to set up this state of affairs that there’s little runway to make the most of the conceit. The Shallow Tale is never more fun than in its last third, as characters begin to grow suspicious of one another and flimsy plots begin to spiral out of control, but by that point, it is too little too late. The journey to get there sorely lacked the energy of the finale, and the best part of the movie is over as quickly as it began.  The three leads — Magaro, Britt Lower as his wife, and Steve Buscemi as the retired serial killer — all commit to their performances, and every laugh the film earns is more on their shoulders than on the limp material they are given. The comic rhythm and sensibility of the film never seem quite right, going from droll and dry to absurdist to meta and ironic at the drop of a hat. This lack of consistency gives the film an unevenness that feels less like “anything can happen” and more like “there is no coherent vision for what this story actually is.” Considering the uneven pace of the narrative as a whole, this appears to be the case.
It’s impossible to watch this and not think about the recently released Hit Man. That film is similarly a riff on mystery and crime stories that incorporates romance into genre thrills and vacillates in tone. Those are where the similarities end: that movie has a clear thesis, has a deliberate build in how absurd the comedy is, and knowingly wrings as much as it can from its premise. Of course, that is a film from Richard Linklater, an artist who has been making films for decades, whereas The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer is the English-language debut of a comparatively young filmmaker. Hopefully, Tolga Karacelik will learn from the missteps of this shallow tale going forward. The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer premiered at the 2024 Tribeca Festival, which ran from June 5-16 in New York City. Rating: 2.5/5 [Tribeca 2024] SHE LOVED BLOSSOMS MORE -- Arresting Visuals Compensate for Limp Characters6/10/2024 Review by Daniel Lima  The more films one sees, the more appreciative one gets when something comes along that displays a unique and singular vision, even if it doesn’t all neatly come together. She Loved Blossoms More, the second feature from Yannis Veslemes, toys with a lot of ideas, both narrative and visual, not all of which feel adequately explored. However, the commitment to trying out these ideas goes a long way in making this a strangely compelling experience.
Three brothers live secluded in an old mansion, their family home. Funded by a mysterious benefactor, they perform experiments with a device that allows for travel between dimensions in an effort to bring their mother back from the dead. That description implies a more straightforward story than what is actually offered; for the most part, the three brothers hang out and get on each other’s nerves, and interlopers and their own attempts to alleviate their misery stymie their scientific progress. Though the low-budget film is entirely set in and around one house, the space is filled and shot in an utterly captivating fashion. The production design is impeccable, not only because of the many impressive and gnarly practical effects but also because of how it brings to life an ancestral home turned into a workspace for three unsupervised young men. The grounds have been overtaken by unkempt foliage, the rooms and hallways cluttered with stray bits of technology and books, the furniture old relics of their own childhood, the walls chipped and dirtied. The neglect and lack of care reflect the goals and personalities of the characters and give the setting a truly lived-in feel. Tight compositions and fisheye lenses constrain the image, creating a sense of claustrophobia and anxiety that grows suffocating as the mental strain on the brothers increases. There is a textured look that, if not the result of actual film stock, adds a certain weight to the image, and the neon lighting that reflects the characters’ casual use of psychotropics gives the most surreal sequences a certain flair. All of this cleverly makes the most of the production’s meager means. The characters themselves, however, are not nearly as interesting as how they are captured. While the twisted nature of this family begins with an Oedipal edge and slowly reveals darker layers, the brothers are simply not particularly fun to be around, lacking discernible personalities beyond laconic, also laconic, and deadbeat. As twisty as their interpersonal drama becomes, it ultimately relies on the audience being invested in their goals and well-being. That context required comes far too late to engender any sympathy for them. The principal leads do what they can with what they are given, but it is Sandra Sarafanova who steals the show. The girlfriend of one of the brothers, she arrives in the house and takes full command of every scene she is in — playful, charming, and sensual at all times. She is a breath of life in a setting purposefully designed to be stodgy, and it would be wonderful if this were the start of a fruitful career. She Loved Blossoms More is a film that is technically impressive and occasionally even enchanting. Though the thematic exploration of grief falters without anything to ground it, the visual language is engaging enough to make it a worthwhile watch. She Loved Blossoms More is screening at the 2024 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 5-16 Rating: 3/5 Review by Daniel Lima  There is something commendable in attempting to capture intangible human emotions and experiences through layers of inscrutable abstraction. Darkest Miriam tackles grief, depression, and alienation with a degree of cool removal that is, if nothing else, more interesting than the conventional form a story like this might usually take. Even so, its form ultimately fails to complement the character — and the performance — at its center. Britt Lower stars as Miriam, a woman living a painfully lonely and unfulfilling existence. Her job at the local library sees her dealing with inane complaints, crotchety locals, and demeaning tasks all day. She has no hobbies, no friends, and is grappling with trauma that has isolated her from the world around her. A chance connection at a park with a local cab driver sees some light shine into her dreary life, even as she begins to find increasingly threatening letters at work that seem directed at her. There is a world where this takes on a certain darkly quirky tone, which is uncommon among indie romcoms. Instead, Darkest Miriam does its best to resist categorization, more or less abandoning a coherent and propulsive narrative structure for what amounts to a series of encounters meant to evoke familiar feelings in anyone trying to eke out a comfortable living in modern society. The time spent in the library is a series of unpleasant, disconnected scenes capturing the feeling of constraint and claustrophobia when working someplace that exacerbates how miserable you feel. While the time spent with Lower and her lover is more freeing and happier by an order of magnitude, they are not concerned with building to a dramatic high point or even charting the course of a traditional courtship. They are merely snapshots of an intimate relationship, an escape from the disaffecting drudgery of everyday life.  Unfortunately, that lack of focus is a double-edged sword. While the attempt to cultivate an atmosphere around the character of Miriam is commendable, it never properly defines her to begin with. This is not a particularly esoteric film, but the lack of a traditional narrative, with peaks and valleys and things that characters are forced to react to, means the sole point of interest is in its lead. Despite all the time spent with her, however, she is mostly a cipher, ill-defined beyond a pervading sense of sadness when she's not with her new beau.
Perhaps most damning is how leaden the central romance actually is. Though Lower and Tom Mercier (as the cab driver) are doing what is called of them in a film as low-key as this, it can't be said that the two have chemistry, nor is there any charge to the conversations they have with one another. The lack of narrative build clearly works against them here, as without the structure it would provide, the emotional core of the movie rides on how much one gets out of the two reading books to each other or Lower giving Mercier a bath as they exchange dead stares. Even so, the vexing, dreamlike quality of Darkest Miriam may ultimately be more helpful than harmful. It's hard to imagine that a more conventional approach to the material — requiring a defter hand at defining characters and writing dialogue — would have played to the filmmaker's strengths, and it certainly would not have distinguished itself among its peers. For those looking for an offbeat, darker take on the rom-com and have exhausted every other option, this may scratch a certain itch. Darkest Miriam is screening at the 2024 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 5-16 in New York City. Rating: 2/5 Review by Daniel Lima  The democratization of filmmaking has allowed many people who would otherwise never be able to make a movie the ability to do so. Sometimes, this allows for unique perspectives and the kind of passion projects that would never make it past the studio gatekeepers of Hollywood. Other times, you get something like They're Here, a documentary that reveals absolutely nothing about its subject matter, the people it follows, or those who put time and energy into getting it made. This is nominally a documentary about alien encounters, or more specifically, the people who believe they have made contact with otherworldly beings. Young burnouts who believe they witnessed extraterrestrial activities, retirees who claim a cordial relationship with alien scientists, and one old man who simply wants to believe in something greater than himself. The one thing that unites them beyond their incredible experiences is… well, that gets to the heart of the problem. All these people are residents of upstate New York and even congregate at a small festival for people who have had these close encounters. Strangely, this scene that provides such an obvious and useful structure to all the individual stories is buried thirty minutes into a movie that is barely over an hour long. Instead, the film haphazardly bounces between all these people, with no rhyme or reason and no actual narrative to push forward. It amounts to a bunch of random interviews with a peculiar ensemble.  That lack of connective tissue is an immediate indication of the lack of thematic focus that plagues They're Here. Though the people offering their own experiences often talk about reaching out to others and forming a community that will support each other as they all search for answers, the filmmakers are clearly uninterested in showing that side of these people's lives. One would assume that in lieu of that, there is a deeper interrogation of the participants, exploring who they are and how their experiences have fundamentally changed them or what draws them to make the claims they do (or alternatively, what draws aliens to them). Since the film spends so much time bouncing between all of them, however, no one receives the definition that could prove insightful. As far as this film is concerned, their entire lives began and ended with their fantastic accounts and interest in UFOs. That does not offer a particularly compelling portrait of these people. That manipulation that reduces these people to only UFO cultists is evident through much of the filmmaking craft. The festival shows multiple characters who we have been introduced to talking to each other for seemingly the first time, an obvious construction that would have been less obvious had it been laying the groundwork at the start. Many conversations are shot-reverse shot as if they were in a traditional narrative film, lending each of them a suffocating sense of artifice. Then, there are the abduction sequences, which seem to exist only to get this to feature length.  If there is anything to dissect here, it is the pervading sense of loneliness and sadness that all these people share. Beyond the scorn and disbelief they are met with whenever speaking their personal truth, it's not hard to read into each of them a discontent with their lives, a sense that there needs to be something vast and powerful out there that they have been allowed to make contact with. It just so happens that that need drove them to aliens rather than religion. This is most evident in the younger people interviewed, two men who clearly have very little going on in their lives (and one who might be the least funny person to ever attempt stand-up comedy), and in an older metalworker named Steve.
Steve is an associate of a local UFO group, going to meetings and clearly being fascinated by the idea of abduction. He spends long hours in his machine shop, hoping to retire but lacking the means to do so. At the prodding of his friend who leads the group (or perhaps the filmmakers, hoping for good content), he undergoes hypnotherapy in an attempt to uncover suppressed memories of his own potential abduction. It doesn't work out, and in one of the film's few genuine moments, he expresses his dismay. "You hope that things are going to work out, and in my life, it's like it never does." He laughs, then sags into his seat and gazes at the floor. If the team behind They're Here had any real interest in the people they were covering, regardless of how they felt about the veracity of their claims, this would be what the movie is about: people cast adrift on their home planet, gazing at the stars and dreaming of — or perhaps even touching — something more. However, the shoddy craftsmanship and lack of focus in exploring their lives is a testament to how little the filmmakers were invested in what these men and women had to say. Steve and the rest deserved better than this. They're Here is screening at the 2024 Tribeca Festival, which runs June 5-16 in New York City. Rating: 1.5/5 |