French Cinema: La Haine (Hate) Review

La Haine follows three young men in the banlieues (suburbs) of Paris for almost 24 hours as they navigate the aftermath of a riot wherein a friend has been shot. Directed by Matthew Kassovitz and starring Vincent Cassel, Hubert Koundé and Saïd Taghmaoui, this hard-hitting French film from 1995 still feels just as relevant in 2021. How is that possible?!

Presented in a stark but beautiful monochrome palette, La Haine holds nothing back. The narrative explores a wealth of topics including race, masculinity, police brutality, poverty, the aimlessness of youth and societal expectations. In most cases, this would be too much material to cover coherently in a film; however, the simplicity of the 24h timeline makes it possible.

« C'est l'histoire d'un homme qui tombe d'un immeuble de 50 étages. Le mec, au fur et à mesure de sa chute, il se répète sans cesse pour se rassurer: Jusqu'ici tout va bien. Jusqu'ici tout va bien. Jusqu'ici tout va bien. Mais l'important, c'est pas la chute, c'est l'atterrissage. »

“Heard about the guy who fell off a skyscraper? On his way down past each floor, he kept saying to reassure himself: So far so good... so far so good... so far so good. How you fall doesn't matter. It's how you land!”

The story of the falling man is repeated throughout the film. This is an obvious metaphor for the three central characters and society as a whole (which Cassel’s character notes later on). It’s also interesting that graffiti and billboards have ironic messages throughout the film such as ‘L'avenir c'est nous’ (We are the future) and ‘Le Monde est à vous’ (The world is yours) which Saïd changes to ‘Le Monde est à nous’ (The World is ours). Escaping the poverty of the banlieues is impossible for these young men because society doesn’t allow them the chance to better themselves.

Another motif that drives the plot, perhaps just as much as the falling man story is the gun. Vinz carries the police revolver for most of the film, its always present but hidden from sight. Another metaphor, but for violence this time. It’s also a device that builds tension and is a literal use of the narrative technique Chekov’s Gun. “If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it’s not going to be fired, it shouldn’t be hanging there.“ (Chekov, 1911). We are anxious throughout the film because we know that this gun will be used, but up until the very last moment of the film, we don’t know how or when!

« Je me sens comme une petite fourmi perdue dans un univers intergalactique »

“I feel like a little ant lost in an intergalactic universe.”

Normally films become less and less relevant as the year’s pass, or they become offensive because of how backwards their representations were (Hello, Mickey Rooney as Mr Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Laurence Olivier in blackface as Othello!). Unfortunately, La Haine is feeling more and more relevant, especially in the last year with the Black Lives Matter marches around the world.

Korean Cinema: 버티고 (Vertigo) Review

Directed by Jeon Gye-soo, Vertigo explores Seo-young’s life in corporate Korea. It’s a dizzying world of uncertainty where simply being seen wearing a hearing aid could lose her a contract renewal. Seo-young’s secret affair with her handsome and popular boss is also another risk. Soon her life begins to spiral out of control when her inner ear problem causes her to start experiencing Vertigo in her high-rise office.

 I watched this film as part of the London Korean Film Festival, which went digital this year as a consequence of the COVID-19 pandemic. This was a kind of stroke of luck for me as I have wanted to see Vertigo for quite a while, and I wouldn’t have been able to see it at its originally planned screening in London.

Narratively the central focus of the film is on Seo-young, but Vertigo also explores two men and their connection to her. Seo-young is very much in love with her boss Lee Jin-soo (Teo Yoo from the fantastic Russian film Leto!), which is displayed through her looking at him longingly while he religiously works and how she seeks physical contact with him.

His distance and unavailability are perhaps part of the draw, but it is clear she craves something more from the relationship. Kwon-Woo a window cleaner, is a point of fascination for Seo-young, he is literally and metaphorically on the outside looking in. He cleans windows suspended from a rope and can observe corporate meetings and lunchtime rituals, but he is also poor and of different social standing, and his interest in the melancholy Seo-young becomes a focal point in his life.

There is one moment where he writes Cheer Up on the windows in soap suds, which causes Seo-young to cry (and I must admit I did too!). However, one must also note that while Kwon-woo had the best of intentions his behaviour throughout the film was questionable and actually stalking.

Beautifully shot with a minimalistic colour palette Vertigo really stands out when audio and visuals vividly collide to bring Set-young’s vertigo to life. Visually we experience the disorientation, the panic and the off-kilter feeling through the use of a SnorriCam (essentially, the camera is mounted onto the actor, so it appears that they don’t move while everything around them does). The sound engineering in these moments mimics tinnitus with the high pitch ringing and the muffling of voices which I found to be really powerful, and as I have tinnitus myself rather realistic too.

While Vertigo starts off strong towards the end the film becomes rather over the top and a bit too melodramatic for my liking (though it does make for a spectacular cinematographic moment), but overall it was a beautiful film to watch and an interesting portrait of a woman on the brink. There were also some important moments throughout the film that highlighted social issues like sexual harassment and prejudices within the workplace.

Norwegian Cinema: Thelma film Review

Thelma is a supernatural thriller directed by Joachim Trier and stars Eili Harboe in the titular role. This Norwegian film is a fresh and complex take on “superhero” powers that navigates themes of sexuality, trauma, religion and self-discovery.

The film’s eponymous heroine Thelma is able to make things happen; if she wants something, she can manifest it or quite terrifyingly, make it disappear. Narratively, the exploration of such a supernatural power is rich ground for storytelling, and that’s exactly what Trier has achieved here.

Thelma is a beautifully dark coming-of-age story about a sheltered young woman discovering her identity both as an individual away from her overbearing family and in terms of her sexuality. While her dangerous gift could have just become a metaphorical symbol of her otherness or a delusion born out of repressed sexuality, Trier doesn’t settle for a cinematically metaphoric storyline only. This supernatural gift is real and has very tangible consequences in the film, and a flashback that unfolds alongside the main action of the narrative is rather intense and harrowing and brings the film to a crescendo before the final act.

I also liked how in an interview, Trier said that he wanted to make a film that pays tribute to all the people who feel like “freaks” who don’t fit in and still try to find acceptance in that fact (VG, 2017). And at its most basic, that is exactly what Thelma is, a freak finding her place.

“I feel angry with you, God. Why are you doing this to me? What do you want?”

Visually, Thelma is stunning. There are lingering shots of nature, erotically charged visuals involving snakes, a very Bergmanesque nod to Persona and stunning moments of VFX that bring the consequences of Thelma’s ability to life.

There is also a really clever visual at the beginning and end of the film where the camera pans in and later away from the crowded Frederikkeplassen (the centre of the UiO Blindern Campus), illustrating the sense of one person being lost in a sea of people.

Another sequence that I found to be particularly beautiful was at the Oslo Opera house; I love the way in which the ballet performance on stage melted into shots of Thelma on the brink of an anxiety-induced seizure. Both elements complimented each other and created frenetic energy that really built up the mounting tension of a rising panic attack.

The colour palette used in Thelma is also rather beautiful, as dark, brooding and cold colours are employed for the most part. However, there are moments where a rich blood-red or lush natural green pierces the shot; these snaps of intense colours symbolise danger and transgressing against the norm and are often seen when Thelma has no control over her ability.