Devs (2020)

The first episode of Garland's latest kicks off giving a pretty good picture of what's to come. A meditative mood piece, with its somber tone, dissonant score, mesmerizing images and a brooding atmosphere; very much a wet dream of any serious cinephile.

Revealing much about the plot would do it disservice. Those familiar with the excellent "The OA Part II" will probably find some thematic similarities, although "Devs" is more on the sci-fi/tech side and less dense, plot and characterization-wise.

"Devs" manages to hold our attention to a considerable degree, with its intriguing story-line and hypnotic camerawork. At its core is a heartbreaking story of love, loss and an obsessive desire to overcome this loss. For those who crave some cerebral content in their cinema, there is a lot to chew on with its subject material and heavy verbiage concerning quantum physics, free will, the multiverse theory, the De Broglie–Bohm theory and what not! You will probably have to google all that up!

All this manages to keep us hooked, trying to make sense of everything that unfolds on screen as we relate the complex verbal exchanges to the progression of the story.

The trouble however starts glaring with Garland's casting choices and writing.

The female lead Sonoya Mizonu who is supposed to carry the entire show on her shoulders is god-awful with her singular expression and grating dialog delivery, and hence her presence mostly sticks out like a sore thumb. No matter how much you try to ignore her, you cannot, because she pretty much ruins every frame she is in. This makes it difficult to take her seriously or root for her as a lead character. Perhaps she is best suited for roles like she did in Ex-Machina (2014); Kyoko the robot!

Much of the exchange between her and the character of Jamie (Jin Ha) is cheesy and uninteresting, bordering on the cringeworthy. The dialog often tends to get repetitive, as if Garland is trying to fill up the per episode space of around 50 mins. There is also one particularly off-putting exposition-heavy sequence explaining the whole business as some primer textbook, in the latter half of the series. This sequence comes in a tad too late, when the more discerning viewer has already figured out what is happening and does not need another half hour to cover that aspect.

Some of the character actions seem completely out of place and clumsy in hindsight. For instance:

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How could a hard-boiled spy sent in on a dangerous mission be so clumsy as to vomit and sob upon reading some lines of code, and attract attention? Why would he be so hasty as to try to steal something on the very first day of his engagement with Devs? Why not wait for an opportune moment?

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Also baffling is the choice of a female actor to play the wunderkind Lyndon (Cailee Spaeny). She tries hard but comes off as awkward pretending to be a smart-ass geeky "boy".

The two actors who shine in the whole affair are Nick Offerman as Forest and Zach Grenier as Kenton, his loyal security in-charge. They add the much needed edge to the proceedings and make us cheer, their moral compasses notwithstanding.

Despite the shortcomings, "Devs" is certainly worth the ride. Check it out on Hulu or Hotstar.

Score: 3.5/5

La Piscine (1969)

The tranquility of an idyllic, romantic summer getaway to a plush French villa is disturbed for a handsome couple, when an old friend and his teenage daughter unexpectedly join the party. The fragility of multiple bonds lies exposed with the arrival of this strange pair of guests in this complex psychological drama surrounding mysterious relationships.

In "La Piscine" aka "The Swimming Pool" (1969), written and directed by Jacques Deray, Jean-Paul (Alain Delon), a failed writer with supposed emotional problems takes a vacation with his beautiful girlfriend from over two years, Marianne (Romy Schneider). Both of them spend most of their time either taking lazy sunbaths or canoodling by the large swimming pool in the property when they aren't taking a dip in it.

Enter old friend Harry (Maurice Ronet) and his attractive 18-year old daughter Penelope (Jane Birkin), and suddenly, there are ripples in an otherwise calm atmosphere, as seemingly healthy, strong bonds begin to show cracks following some startling revelations about all four involved.

"La Piscine" unfolds with a languorous pace, its lazy mood mirroring the leisurely sun-soaked holiday of Jean-Paul and Marianne. The plot and the narrative is mostly minimal, with almost nothing happening for most of the first half hour, but we do get to have a good glimpse of some gorgeous looking people spending their time around the luxurious property. During this time, we are given the chance to soak in in the relaxed environment and observe the body language of the four primary characters. Their interactions seem to hint at a lot more, a whole lot different than what initially meets the eye.

A slow-burning tension mounts gradually as we notice those furtive glances and some visible discomfort. In what seems to be a passionate romance between the lead couple, there suddenly appears to be a strange, uncomfortable distance of sort. The palpable emotional wall between the father, Harry and his daughter Penelope suggest that this is not your ordinary, healthy father-daughter pair, and there is something definitely out of place.

Certain character actions coerce you to form your own questions and formulate theories. For instance, why did Marianne initially refuse to tell Jean-Paul whose call it was when Harry phoned? Could there be something between Marianne and Harry or was she just teasing him? What is the meaning of Penelope's overall awkwardness around the others? Or is she just plain bored among all the older people? Why is Jean-Paul so interested in her age, unabashedly even asking it, despite her father being around?

The dialog is mostly restrained, and there are no explicit dramatic exchanges except in one vital scene. The nature of the complex relationships portrayed is revealed piece by piece, and with a strange, unexpected nonchalance, the kind of revelation that you may even miss if you blink. There is a dysfunction alright, but there is an air of ambiguity as well, even when exposing it to the viewer. Certain aspects of the past are divulged as subtle twists, making you rewind and think back to an interaction, trying to comprehend an exchange, while in other cases it seems to make sense and fall into place.

The tactful handling of these sequences and the steady control exercised here is remarkable indeed. Deray creates an unsettling atmosphere of understated suspense, and we realize that beneath all the glamour and the romance, something very sinister is brewing, only we are unsure where it is all headed. It almost seems like an unusual calm before a storm, like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt, but without a clear knowledge of how and when such an event may occur.

Of course, the third act springs a surprise of shocking proportions, and even this shock is brought upon rather gently, keeping in tune with the languid tone of the film. The film would've been just as effective as an elegantly mounted sensual psychological drama, even without the thriller element introduced in the third act, sans which it would've still retained all its tense, suspenseful qualities.

"La Piscine" is exquisitely filmed and most of the action is confined to the compound walls of the villa and around the swimming pool. This titular swimming pool, serves as the symbol of calm, pleasant waters turned into a deadly vortex that would change lives forever. With a setup and characters like those depicted, not surprisingly, comes the exploration of an existential ennui, a trope already mastered by the Italian master Michelangelo Antonioni.

With talents like Jean-Claude Carrière, Maurice Ronet, Alain Delon and the lovely Romy Schneider on board, Jacques Deray certainly delivers an engaging drama that goes far beyond being a mere showcase of two handsome men sipping scotch and two gorgeous ladies sunbathing.

Score: 9/10

Diva (1981)

"Diva" (1981) was among the first of what they called the Cinéma du look movement, wherein a film was all about gloss, about style, and less about the substance. Despite the rather discouraging knowledge of this acquired definition of the movement, the plot summary was nevertheless, intriguing enough to give this one a shot.

A legendary Opera singer, Cynthia Hawkins, popularly known as the Diva (Wilhelmenia Fernandez), who is against recording her music, delivers a grand performance, which is secretly recorded on some top-notch equipment by a young postman, Jules (Frédéric Andréi), who is a smitten fan. He is noticed doing this by a pair of Taiwanese bootleggers and/or record label mafia (?) who decide to pursue the young man to get their hands on this priceless recording so as to blackmail and coerce the singer into officially recording for them.

Meanwhile, another vital tape, a confession of a prostitute implicating the city police chief (Jacques Fabbri) in a prostitution racket, makes its way, unwittingly into the postman's hands; a tape which is badly wanted by the chief and a pair of pimps who will go to any level to keep the root of the racket a secret. And thus begins a chase like no other; with its share of mix-ups and misunderstandings, involving a motley bunch of people either trying to save the tapes, destroy the tapes, or use them to their advantage.

It's not an original premise - we have seen stuff like this before, and also after: A single object of great importance (known in the cinematic parlance as the Macguffin), or in this case, two (tapes), in the possession of a clueless young protagonist, being pursued by unrelated characters for various reasons.  We know what we are usually in for in cases like these. The main guy will be chased around town, wondering what the hell is happening, there will be a kingpin out to get the booty, and there will be opportunists waiting to take advantage of the situation. Bodies will pile up, the booty will exchange hands, and the plot will be driven to its exciting conclusion.

Not surprisingly, this is more or less how the story proceeds. And therefore, we begin to shift our attention to the treatment and also the how of it, rather than the what. We focus more on the handling, on the thrills, on the punches, rather than the direction of the plot development.

Jean-Jacques Beineix certainly achieves the look. Cinematographer Philippe Rousselot captures the seductive neon-lit charm of the streets of Paris by night; not to mention the great use of colours, overall. The strange abode of Gorodish (Richard Bohringer) is electric blue. He loves the sea and owns a secluded castle overlooking the sea. Hell, even his jigsaw puzzle features the picture of a deep blue sea! Jules' apartment is a fancy place converted out of what seems to be an old loft garage, with beautiful artwork comprising of cars and nude women.

The scenes in the police station are always filmed with a beautiful sun-shiny golden hue. The eclectic soundtrack of Opera, synth-pop and classic rock goes a long way in making these awesome pictures come alive. There's a very ethereal feel to the long walk taken by Jules and Cynthia across the city in the early hours of dawn. An ambience of a chaste romance and perhaps an impossible one is very aptly created.

Sadly, all its visuals, its colourful characters and style, are not enough to get past some of the awful contrivances, some illogical twists and predictably silly turns that begin to surface in the latter half of the film. We are soon brought into the archetypal action thriller territory with impossible chases, incompetent cops and nick-of-time rescues! The famous moped chase scene is one of the most ridiculous scenes ever, even if it has been lauded for the way it has been filmed; either it hasn't dated well or it is simply not digestible enough. There are various other instances of characters popping up at the unlikeliest of places at the most precise of instances to save the day, or ruin it - it is almost magical!

It's a cliché that plagues many a Hollywood and Bollywood films. All the cops are bungling nitwits and all the villains are ruthless caricatures who get away with almost everything; 'til the very end of course, while you keep rooting for the good guys.

Stuff like this still works with the right handling and the right comic punches and thrills delivered the right way. But "Diva" doesn't have that kind of an edge to it. It doesn't help matters that the dialog is mostly tepid and half-baked as well. "Diva" struggles to stay afloat and we await the end of this vapid circus, while the titular Diva and the bootleg recording get sidelined for the most part. Cynthia literally disappears in the final half. Whatever novelty this plot had to offer, about the purity of music and its preservation, gets sidelined as well, and we return to the same old drugs and prostitution business. The confession tape and characters involved in it become the focal point...the spirit of music takes a back seat.

It's a beautiful moment when Cynthia reappears in the end to listen to her own tape and exclaim "I have never heard myself sing".  Alas, by this time, we stop caring about her thought-provoking views on music.


Score: 6/10

Samaritan Girl (2004)

***NOTE: The following analysis/review may contain SPOILERS regarding some detail in the film, but not to the extent of making the film viewing experience any lesser.*** 

Now this one seemed like a straightforward evening watch, even for a Kim Ki-Duk film. But trust the guy to completely overthrow your expectations and take you on a journey you may never have experienced before. "Samaritan Girl" (2004) is yet another exotic dish from the Kim Ki-Duk kitchen, made from a recipe that is entirely his own. You just need to have the palate for it, and you will find yourself wholly appreciating what the South Korean auteur dishes out.

"Samaritan Girl" tells an unusual tale of sin and redemption that is both disturbing and sensitive at the same time. Two teenaged girls, resort to prostitution in order to raise money for a trip to Europe! Of course, they are very young and far too naive to realize the gravity or the consequences of their deeds. In a sordid arrangement, one of the girls, Jae-yeong (Yeo-reum Han) actually engages in the act, while her best friend Yeo-jin (Ji-min Kwak) does the job of setting her up with clients and acting as a lookout in order to warn about possible police raids. An incident with one of the clients, however, proves to be a watershed event that would change their lives forever.

For a plot premise that may seem like it would tread familiar grounds, "Samaritan Girl" changes its course significantly, at least twice, thereby totally subverting viewer expectations. It unfolds in an episodic fashion, over three parts with title cards: "Vasumitra", "Samaria" and "Sonata". The symbolic connection of these titles to what transpires in each episode serves as a means to comprehend the central thematic content of the film. 

On a broad level, "Samaritan Girl" is all about carrying the burden of another; of paying for the sins of others. It is a direct biblical reference to Jesus Christ bearing the cross, also depicted literally in how in one scene, Yeo-jin carries an injured Jae-young on her back. It is no coincidence that Yeo-jin's father (Eol Lee), the cop mentions the story of a rotting crucifix which bears a bud almost miraculously.

The first episode talks about Vasumitra. In an old Indian legend, Vasumitra was a prostitute, whose clients all became Buddhists after sleeping with her. A carnal act, considered sinful, had somehow brought about a spiritual awakening in them. Jae-yeong, fascinated by this legend is practically obsessed with Vasumitra, and aspires to be like her. Sure enough, she manages to make an emotional connect with each client, ever smiling after each job and doing much more than just sex by engaging in some actual heart to heart talk!

Jae-young feels practically no remorse and in fact enjoys what she is doing, more so because of the connections she makes with her johns. Yeo-jin, however, reels under the guilt of being party to her friend's exploitation, and is the only one to feel the moral weight. Yeo-jin's jealousy is palpable as well, but Kim Ki-Duk keeps it deliberately ambiguous as to what kind of jealousy it is. While Yeo-jin obviously yearns for sex, she is perhaps morally bound, at least at that point of time. But her open admittance to Jae-yeong that she can't stand to see any guy touch "something this beautiful", and their naked baths together, hint at a definite homo-erotic attraction and a sense of possessiveness on Yeo-jin's part.

So where does Vasumitra fit in? Only after the baton is passed on to Yeo-jin in a dramatic turn of events, when she embarks on her path of supposed redemption. One of the outcomes of her actions is a visible change in the clients, as they either feel shame or regret their actions, experiencing a moral awakening and rekindling bonds with their daughters or loved ones! From filthy beasts to humans experiencing a kind of spiritual awakening; the Vasumitra legend mirrored! In a way, now Yeo-jin plays dual roles, of Vasumitra and of a Samaritan (Samaria), in her act of repentance.

The decision to sleep with each of Jae-young's client's is somewhat of an arbitrary move, that initially seems to be a product of a lack of maturity at a vulnerable age like that. Her twisted ideology is questionable, but perhaps this is her way of indirectly experiencing physical pleasure with Jae-young; a vicarious means of seeking sexual gratification from her best friend; that she desired but could never bring herself to seek out.

This inability to confront or speak out one's feelings is a trait that would continue further with Yeo-jin's father, a cop who inadvertently discovers that his daughter is out prostituting herself. The tough detective, himself investigating the killings of teens in shady motels, is now reduced to a broken, helpless father. A shattered man, he ultimately turns into a sort of watch dog, following his daughter's clients, and intimidating or shaming them. The incapacity to break the ice with his daughter on the matter, turns into a violent rage that the clients have to bear rather than the daughter, who is in fact the one inviting them on her own free will. Subsequently, these men find themselves at the receiving end for the sins of Yeo-jin!

The first few frames show a computer chat session, where it all starts and the girls fix meetings with their clients. Kim Ki-Duk perhaps aims at showing the ill effects of advanced technology and how they have created distances between human beings. It is alarming how the girls don't even know who's on the other end and yet agree to give themselves to them. The comfort of being bold from behind a screen has perhaps caused this inability to connect on a direct, personal level, directly reflected in Yeo-jin's dad's reluctance to confront her. It all stems from the advent of technology and the way it is gradually establishing its roots in our environment. The scene in which he puts headphones around here ears to wake her (and also in a surreal sequence later) seemed a little off-kilter initially but finds a significant overlap from this angle.

And therefore, what better place to connect, than the countryside, at one with nature and away from industrialization and technology? Maybe this is why, in the final chapter "Sonata", when Yeo-jin's father decides to take her on a trip to the country to her mother's grave, they are finally able to actually connect with their spiritual selves and to each other on an emotional level, without even bringing up anything that happened prior to the trip. The outing turns out to be a turning point in the lives of these two tormented souls; a moment of moral awakening, a means of catharsis and the ultimate gateway to salvation. Tears of regret are shed, sins are washed off, and there are realizations that enable both of them to attain their peace, in a culmination that is heartbreaking.

That final frame is bound to leave an indelible mark in your memory much like the rest of this haunting story. It's amazing how much meaning is conveyed merely through symbols, gestures and body language of these characters that you can't help but empathize with.

This is gold standard Kim Ki-Duk with his signature storytelling style with somber music, great images and a strong communication of his usually rich themes in his unique visual language.


Score: 9/10