Silence (2016)

Set in the 17th century, "Silence" tells the story of Father Rodrigues and Father Garupe, two Jesuit priests who travel to Japan to propagate the Christian faith, and also to find out what happened to their mentor Father Ferreira who vanished years ago, amid mass persecution of the followers of Christianity in Japan, where the religion is officially outlawed.

The mission proves to be an ultimate test of faith for Father Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) as he struggles to find hope in a scenario where believers continue to live in fear, and the unfortunate ones face torture and death, for their refusal to renounce Christianity. Along his journey, Rodrigues occasionally questions God's unbearable silence in the face of rampant atrocity.

Having seen and loved the 1971 Masahiro Shinoda adaptation of the Shûsaku Endô novel, I couldn't help but go into comparison mode whilst viewing and reviewing Martin Scorsese's version. The Shinoda version is definitely superior in every way, but Scorsese is not too far behind, and certainly packs a searing punch with some of his own expert touches that are unique to his version of the film.

For one, the film is a visual feast; the cinematography is gorgeous, the visuals are awe-inspiring with a pitch-perfect atmosphere and a chilling opening sequence that is straight out of a nightmare! Scorsese's version is longer and perhaps more dramatic as compared to Shinoda's more objective, yet highly effective and better story-telling style.

Scorsese adds some powerful and surreal imagery including the aforementioned opening sequence depicting torture at the hot springs accompanied by Father Ferreira's (Liam Neeson) hair-raising description of  the method of torture in a voice-over. Another striking scene is that of Father Rodrigues' hallucinatory vision of the distorted reflection of Christ in the stream as he goes ballistic.

One of the things handled better and accentuated here is a sense of constant danger and a feeling of mistrust. The priests find themselves venturing in an unknown land under the guidance of an unreliable alcoholic and they are always anxious as to what would await them next. This boosts an element of suspense, for the viewer is equally in doubt whenever a new person comes in contact with the priests and offers to take them somewhere; whether he/she will betray or whether they would take them to their destination. A boat journey in the night highlights this aspect, as Rodrigues suddenly feels disconcerted about his boatman. 

However, Scorsese somewhat waters down some of the other cardinal sequences that were the highlights of the Shinoda film. The capture of Father Rodrigues and the conversation between him and the main antagonist, Inoue (Of concubines and Christianity!) fail to produce the same impact as did Shinoda's version.

Even Inoue's caricature-like portrayal as an effeminate old man (Issey Ogata) with over the top mannerisms is disappointing as compared to Eiji Okada's restrained, gentlemanly depiction of the opponent with a smiling face in the original. Ditto for the characterization of Kichijiro; the weak Christian who displays more human traits than Christian, upholding life over religion but ultimately torn in a never-ending conflict of faith. The weakness was more palpable in the Shinoda version; here he comes off more as a conniving, unremorseful betrayer except in but one scene in the final hour.

Scorsese also completely omits one great sequence from the Shinoda film, the horse hooves torture, that is somewhat difficult to watch. This scene is replaced by a rather quick and tame beheading scene, seen from a distance. 

Rodrigues' voice-over reports, presumably conveyed in letters, are also quite unsubtle, hammering in God's deafening silence, as experienced by him, once too many times. The ending is extended in the Scorsese version showing us more of the fate of Father Rodrigues. Shinoda's way of ending it is bleaker and much better. 

It is good to see Liam Neeson in a serious, meaningful role after a long time. The leads Andrew Garfield and Adam Driver appear a little too young compared to the leads in Shinoda's film. Not sure how they were written in the novel though, that would perhaps make it clearer if they were miscast. Driver doesn't get much scope in his short screen time. Garfield does well, and maybe it is just me, but he lacks the mature persona that a role like this demands.

While Shinoda tells the same story in a more concise, to the point fashion, Scorsese goes for a more sprawling, epic scope, and comes up with a superb product in its own right, but falls short of matching up to the brilliance of the 1971 masterpiece.


Score: 9/10 

Dans La Maison (In The House) (2012)

It all begins innocuously, in a Literature class, after Professor Germain Germain (Fabrice Luchini) asks his students to write an essay on how they spent their weekend. Most of the essays submitted are completely worthless and lacking any kind of creativity, but one particular write-up catches Germain's eye. Claude Garcia (Ernst Umhauer), a relatively bright 16-year old, describes in a rather enticing manner, a weekend visit to his best friend Rapha's house to help him with his Math.

The description turns out to be much more sensational than mundane, as the writer expresses his somewhat unsavoury desires to explore the house further, and dig deeper into its inhabitants, the characters of his essay, especially Rapha's beautiful mother, Esther (Emanuelle Seigner) who is at the center of Claude's voyeuristic gaze.

Claude's essay ends with a suspenseful 'to be continued' remark, and raises the curiosity of not only the professor but also his art-dealer wife, Jeanne (Kristin Scott Thomas). Before they know it, they are hooked; like soap opera or reality show addicts!

Germain, guided by his wife's penchant for substance, prods Claude to write succeeding chapters, claiming that he has great writing talent and should cultivate it by continuing this family drama in a novel format. Of course, continuing the story would mean more visits to Rapha's house. As Claude turns in daily chapters, developing the story into a fascinating family yarn, sometimes of a scandalous nature, Germain and Jeanne take vicarious pleasure in a reality show they cannot see. Only it is soon too late, when things start to get out of control not only in Rapha's household but also in Germain's life at the cost of building a great story!

François Ozon's "Dans La Maison" or "In the House" (2012) plays out in a rather farcical fashion, like a breezy comedy for the most part, but Ozon succeeds in conveying certain pertinent themes, and raises several questions about the human consumption of sensationalism and the inherent existence of a voyeur in practically every human being despite their hypocritical denial. He makes us muse about human curiosity in general, and the undeniable fact that people do find an intrigue in the lives of others, more importantly when there are downs rather than ups in them! After all who is interested in monotony? It is only when there are ripples, that notice is taken.

Ozon examines a consumer's never ending hunger for something outlandish, by subtly blurring the line between the guide and the guided, the manipulator and the manipulated, as they appear to switch places. Whilst Germain is guiding Claude to build his narrative, he in turn becomes a slave to Claude's writing, often becoming dependent on it, and even compromising his ethics when it threatens to come to an end. Further blurred is the line between fiction and reality, for we see events only from Claude's perspective as he narrates the words in his write-ups. But how much of it is real and how much is made up, is largely unknown, partly because we do see an instance of a modified event, reshaped at the behest of Germain himself, on the pretext of pleasing the reader.

A notable parallel subplot involves Jeanne's art gallery and her desperate struggle to keep it afloat and save it from shutting down by having the best of exhibits and boosting sales. She keeps bringing new artworks and seeks Germain's opinions on them, who often comments about whether a particular art form will sell or not. An important reading to be made here is about art for the sake of art and its viability for commercialism. The credibility of an artwork is decided on its marketability and in this regard, Germain always seems to care about an art piece only if he thinks it will sell.

Germain's sentiments are more or less in the same vein when guiding Claude with his novella, except in this case, he claims he is doing it to groom a literary genius, a budding writer; something that he couldn't become, with only a failed romantic novel to his credit. And yet, it is clear as much to the viewer, that he is indeed, more driven by the voyeuristic consumer inside him, for he tastes blood in Claude's sensational story. Only when the sensationalism appears to go way out of hand, he makes a very smart remark invoking the great Italian auteur Pier Paolo Pasolini, one which is certain to bring a smile on the faces of the fans of "Teorema" (1968).

The main theme is reflected in an important sequence by means of an offbeat artwork that Jeanne demonstrates; an audio artwork. The artist verbally describes the artwork and the listener is allowed to (re)create it with his/her interpretation or imagination of the artist's intention. It pretty much mirrors the essence of reading a novel and the very activity Germain is involved in with Claude. Claude writes, and Germain creates a mental picture of Rapha's family in his mind!

Ozon goes on to have some fun himself with the narrative device, and demonstrates the power of cinema and how the medium can be manipulated to suit viewer expectations and requirements. Just as Prof. Germain alters certain events in Claude's writings to meet reader expectations, Ozon toys around with absurdity, creating very interesting meta-moments in which he places Germain himself at the very heart of the action, in the house, which is the center of Claude's beguiling story. It is a very intricately constructed, meticulous screenplay which pays a fitting homage to Alfred Hitchcock's "Rear Window" (1954), one of the earliest cinematic depictions of voyeurism.

Despite the delicious oddities, originality and intelligence that "In the House" certainly possesses, it does feel like Ozon somehow refrains from pushing the envelope. The narrative seems restrained and appears to become stagnant and just slightly monotonous after a point. Furthermore, in the process of providing an ending, much like Claude in the film, Ozon takes some abruptly clumsy turns that fail to convince.

Ozon has made better films than "In the House", but there is no doubt that this is one of the most unique and premium offerings in his filmography. 

Score: 8/10

A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence (2014)

"I'm happy to hear you're doing fine!"

These words are uttered several times in this wonderful film, by various individuals, to someone on the other end of a phone line; someone out of plain sight as far as the viewer is concerned. What exactly goes on on the other side, we do not know, but taking a closer look at Roy Andersson's characters who are, in the end, only human, we can somehow gather that these words probably have no real weight. They are just formal exchanges; empty, reassuring words, spoken by someone who's probably wallowing in misery, for all you know.

"A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence" (2014) is an existential dramedy that gives us a bird's-eye view of the crisis of modern man. It is a bittersweet examination of the middle class human condition with a hilariously absurdist, but visibly bleak flavour. Surreal, darkly funny vignettes revolving around multiple characters touching upon man's never-ending struggle for a meaningful life and an overall quest for love and fulfillment forms the core of Andersson's film, the final part of his "Living Trilogy".

Every human soul on this planet is struggling with something, small or big. No one is living, what you would call an epitome of a perfectly ideal existence. The pursuit of happiness is an endless one, a constant journey, that at some point of time, makes individuals reflect upon their being, ponder about the meaning of their lives; all the while keeping in mind a certain inherent futility associated with this struggle. For everyone has to eventually perish, a fact almost hammered across with three small vignettes cheekily titled, "Meeting with death".

One of these vignettes is a masterwork, a literal humorous take on how material wealth means nothing and once you die, you can't really take it with you. In another vignette, an insensitivity and triviality rendered to life in general is showcased in how a man offers to drink the beer of a person who couldn't live to consume it, dying only seconds after purchasing it. This casual, nonchalant acceptance of death comes as a sharp contrast to the otherwise portrayed struggle to live.

The two salesmen of novelty entertainment items serve as the only constant characters throughout the film and they are the funniest of them all. "We want to help people have fun", they proclaim in the most unenthusiastic manner as they go on to demonstrate their articles, mostly by manipulating their way to a potential customer. The only article they have most faith in, meets with great success for them in a way, but proves to be a losing prospect to one man it is demonstrated to.

Themes of nostalgia and the days of yore being associated with the good life are evoked wit the wonderful vignette of Limping Lotta's bar and its old world charm. A melancholic sentiment about the good ol' days is palpable with the decrepit old regular customer being the only one to have been in the golden days of the bar, now reduced to an almost deaf man, unable to hear much, aurally shielded from the wicked modern world!

The story of a uniformed army officer, Ove Bergius, who can't seem to make it to a venue for an important lecture, seems to dwell upon the theme of a sense of longing and unfulfillment about something that one eagerly desires but could not achieve. Bergius is shown checking the venue at least twice in different scenes, hoping to catch the lecture he missed, also thinking that perhaps he misinterpreted the day and time!

Later with the breaking of the fourth wall, it is revealed that he took great efforts, but the lecture was, in fact, cancelled, and he is perhaps stuck in some kind of psychological limbo, hoping for it to be held again! This same vignette is paralleled with the story of a Flamenco instructor's unrequited love for one of her younger students.

Bergius' story may not be as random as it seems. Towards the end comes a sequence about a person's confusion about the day of the week. "If you can't keep track, chaos will reign", warns a bystander. Could Bergius' suspicion of his misinterpretation of the day and time be in fact, a chaotic consequence of a disappointment over a missed opportunity, despite being very particular about the timing on that fateful occasion?

The temporal mix-up takes a literal turn in one of the most outrageous sequences; the bizarre episode of the appearance of King Charles XII and his army in a modern day bar. The explicit anachronism here directly mirrors the a loss of the track of time. Time folds upon itself; a form of chaos! Charles XII reappears, lost and wounded, after establishing his presence with a bang, reaffirming how ups and downs are part of life and there are phases in every existence. Even kings are brought to their knees and have to wait in line for their turn to use the toilet! In the vast scope of the universe, all human beings are, but just ordinary human beings.

Some very nuanced behavioural observations about people lead to tremendous conclusions and profound lessons in a satisfying existence. A girl takes a moment to remove a pebble in her shoe and it gives Jonathan (one of the salesmen) an awakening of sorts; if there is a pebble, remove it, and move on; don't endure it. A nightmare about his involvement in a rather terrible deed gives his thoughts an even more philosophical bent.

All the while, pigeons, not seen, but heard, look at all these sights from branches, watching, reflecting, musing; gazing upon the lives of these human beings; a race dying a slow death; a symbolic reverse of the opening scene of an old, pale man gazing at a dead, stuffed pigeon on a branch displayed in a glass chamber. Every once in a while there is the dreadful mocking laughter that is heard from one of the salesmen's novelty entertainment items. Whenever that laughter comes on screen, it almost seems like the laugh is on these hapless creatures.

"A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence" is a refreshingly original film by Roy Andersson; a masterpiece that balances pathos with wry humour, replete with repetitions and deadpan non sequitur tapped to a deliciously comic effect, inducing a constant smile and a nervous chuckle every once in a while. Its multiple short snippets will not only entertain you with the savagely funny writing, but also give you something deep to reflect upon.

Score: 10/10