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NOT ENOUGH THERE IN 'HERE'
By Sarah Hotchkiss
KQED Arts
http://www.kqed.org/arts/movies/article.jsp?essid=93535
May 10 2012
Here is a quiet film of several familiar genres rolled together. It is
a road trip movie, a travel movie, and a romantic drama. Though the
basic plot structure involves a man meeting an enchanting woman in a
foreign land, the real romance is not between the characters, but in
filmmaker Braden King's love for his surroundings. Shot entirely in
Armenia, the camera slowly pans across spectacular panoramas in the
film's most powerful moments, leaving other elements of the story
underrealized or underserved.
The film follows Will, an American mapmaker in the age of satellite
technology, and Gadarine, an expatriate photographer, returned to
Armenia on a grant. Will is by nature and profession a loner, every
now and then superficially bonding with those around him through shared
shots of vodka and broken conversations. Ben Foster, behind spectacles
and a scruffy blond beard, plays Will persuasively as he diligently
pins images to a map of the country, creating a more accurate survey
of the land for his private (and possibly shadowy) employers.
Gadarine, played by Lubna Azabal, is a fitting counterpart, estranged
from both her family and her homeland. The film introduces her as
she walks slowly towards a hotel in the middle of the night. She is
followed by a cab driver who first propositions and then threatens her
after she curses him in English. Though Armenian, she is a foreigner,
as is repeatedly demonstrated by this scene and in her interactions
with her brother early in the film.
Will and Gadarine meet briefly over breakfast at their shared hotel,
neither one seeming to make much of a lasting impression on the other.
A later chance encounter at a swanky reception in Gadarine's honor
sets the stage for Will's interest in her, but their flirtation
is awkward to watch and unconvincing, much like the rest of their
on-screen relationship will be.
The moments between the narrative dialogue, in which Braden King
lingers over the landscape and Will and Gadarine are tiny figures in
the midst of larger tableaus, are breathtaking. A soundtrack of light
strings and guitar plucks, along with traditional Armenian music,
suits these scenes particularly well. It is a pleasure to roam over
a beautiful, unfamiliar landscape and soak in these sights and sounds.
Commissioned interludes by a group of avant-garde filmmakers,
often featuring the rumbling voice of Peter Coyote as narrator,
interrupt the larger narrative. These more mystical segments of cut-up
film and flashing colors serve no tangible purpose, cheapening the
actual transcendence provided by King's landscape shots. One appears
potentially dangerous to epileptics.
In the end, Will and Gadarine's affair is difficult to comprehend.
King suggests their relationship mirrors the political confusion of
the contested Nagorno-Karabakh region, which is where things start
to fall apart for them romantically as well. Gadarine, in a moment of
tension, yells at the mapmaker, "You don't know where you are." Will's
measurements persistently refuse to match up, a heavy-handed sign
that his worlds of absolutes may no longer suffice. Gadarine's
feline independence and easy photographic successes make her (and,
subsequently, her attraction to Will) all the less real.
Here excels in many ways: in pinpointing Will's wanderlust; in
capturing the beauty of the Armenian land; in exploring Gadarine's
guilt as she pursues her artistic career while sacrificing her familial
duties. It suffers in overreaching. What should be a story of two
people thrown together by chance attempts to become an epic story of
"the explorer." This is an identity neither Will nor Gadarine truly
inhabits, despite their ultimate and somewhat unexpected outpouring of
emotion toward each other. Enjoy the startling beauty of a distant
land, but don't expect larger truths to emerge while observing
its vistas.
Here is showing at the San Francisco Film Society May 11 - 17, 2012.
For showtimes and more information visit sffs.org.
By Sarah Hotchkiss
KQED Arts
http://www.kqed.org/arts/movies/article.jsp?essid=93535
May 10 2012
Here is a quiet film of several familiar genres rolled together. It is
a road trip movie, a travel movie, and a romantic drama. Though the
basic plot structure involves a man meeting an enchanting woman in a
foreign land, the real romance is not between the characters, but in
filmmaker Braden King's love for his surroundings. Shot entirely in
Armenia, the camera slowly pans across spectacular panoramas in the
film's most powerful moments, leaving other elements of the story
underrealized or underserved.
The film follows Will, an American mapmaker in the age of satellite
technology, and Gadarine, an expatriate photographer, returned to
Armenia on a grant. Will is by nature and profession a loner, every
now and then superficially bonding with those around him through shared
shots of vodka and broken conversations. Ben Foster, behind spectacles
and a scruffy blond beard, plays Will persuasively as he diligently
pins images to a map of the country, creating a more accurate survey
of the land for his private (and possibly shadowy) employers.
Gadarine, played by Lubna Azabal, is a fitting counterpart, estranged
from both her family and her homeland. The film introduces her as
she walks slowly towards a hotel in the middle of the night. She is
followed by a cab driver who first propositions and then threatens her
after she curses him in English. Though Armenian, she is a foreigner,
as is repeatedly demonstrated by this scene and in her interactions
with her brother early in the film.
Will and Gadarine meet briefly over breakfast at their shared hotel,
neither one seeming to make much of a lasting impression on the other.
A later chance encounter at a swanky reception in Gadarine's honor
sets the stage for Will's interest in her, but their flirtation
is awkward to watch and unconvincing, much like the rest of their
on-screen relationship will be.
The moments between the narrative dialogue, in which Braden King
lingers over the landscape and Will and Gadarine are tiny figures in
the midst of larger tableaus, are breathtaking. A soundtrack of light
strings and guitar plucks, along with traditional Armenian music,
suits these scenes particularly well. It is a pleasure to roam over
a beautiful, unfamiliar landscape and soak in these sights and sounds.
Commissioned interludes by a group of avant-garde filmmakers,
often featuring the rumbling voice of Peter Coyote as narrator,
interrupt the larger narrative. These more mystical segments of cut-up
film and flashing colors serve no tangible purpose, cheapening the
actual transcendence provided by King's landscape shots. One appears
potentially dangerous to epileptics.
In the end, Will and Gadarine's affair is difficult to comprehend.
King suggests their relationship mirrors the political confusion of
the contested Nagorno-Karabakh region, which is where things start
to fall apart for them romantically as well. Gadarine, in a moment of
tension, yells at the mapmaker, "You don't know where you are." Will's
measurements persistently refuse to match up, a heavy-handed sign
that his worlds of absolutes may no longer suffice. Gadarine's
feline independence and easy photographic successes make her (and,
subsequently, her attraction to Will) all the less real.
Here excels in many ways: in pinpointing Will's wanderlust; in
capturing the beauty of the Armenian land; in exploring Gadarine's
guilt as she pursues her artistic career while sacrificing her familial
duties. It suffers in overreaching. What should be a story of two
people thrown together by chance attempts to become an epic story of
"the explorer." This is an identity neither Will nor Gadarine truly
inhabits, despite their ultimate and somewhat unexpected outpouring of
emotion toward each other. Enjoy the startling beauty of a distant
land, but don't expect larger truths to emerge while observing
its vistas.
Here is showing at the San Francisco Film Society May 11 - 17, 2012.
For showtimes and more information visit sffs.org.