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Arab Times Kuwait English Daily
Sept 5 2014
Atkin's 'Cut' puts Armenian massacre on screen Stateless 'Villa'
brings strong message
The idea of a film without a country makes an excellent statement
about the Israeli-Palestinian disaster -- it's a pity the concept is
considerably more powerful than the movie at hand. Given Suha Arraf's
record as scripter on "The Syrian Bride" and "Lemon Tree," one expects
more than ham-fisted dialogue from her helming debut, "Villa Touma," .
Stolid, stilted and lensed with little understanding of modulation,
the pic has sparked controversy, yet once that dies down, "Villa" will
be subsumed by far superior Palestinian product.
Arraf originally submitted the film as a Palestinian production, but
when Israeli politicos realized that all the coin came from Israel,
they demanded the money back. The compromise, sending the pic to fests
as a stateless feature, is such a clever idea it's surprising it's not
done more often; if only "Villa Touma" on its own could make such a
potent declaration. The Palestinian haute bourgeoisie, pre- and
post-Israeli statehood, has been frustratingly neglected in cinema,
making the missed opportunity here truly unfortunate.
Orphanage
In 2000, when Badia (Maria Zreik) ages out of the Christian orphanage
where she grew up, she has nowhere to go but to the aunts she's never
met. The three sisters exist in semi-isolated stasis in their villa,
living as if nothing has changed since the Six-Day War, when Israel
took the city. The eldest, Juliette (Nisreen Faour, "Amreeka") greets
her niece even less warmly than Mrs Danvers greeted the second Mrs de
Winter: Clearly, Badia is not a welcome addition to this unhappy home.
Juliette rules the roost, middle sister Violette (Ula Tabari) is the
neurotic one, and younger Antoinette (Cherien Dabis, director-star of
"May in the Summer") remains perpetually under her siblings' viselike
control. Their home is one of unbending routine, their fashions
unchanged since the early 1960s (though most would have been outdated
even then). Violette was briefly hitched to an elderly man who keeled
over shortly after their wedding; her fleeting marriage makes her feel
superior, yet the self-torment of what could have been has made her a
pinched, bitter mess.
Into this hothouse comes timid Badia, underage and unschooled in the
proprieties of "society." In anticipation of marrying her off to one
of the few eligible bachelors among Ramallah's remaining upper caste,
the sisters impose a strict program of piano lessons, posture and
deportment, but when they try launching the blossoming young woman via
church encounters and tea socials, they're largely rebuffed by people
who view the family as oddities.
"Villa Touma" has one good moment, when the sisters, with Badia in
tow, exit their home and walk to church. Auds forget the modern world
exists after the antediluvian world inside the house, so the sight of
these four, dressed in kid gloves and hat veils, walking down the
streets of present-day Ramallah with its cacophony of noise, traffic
and wolf whistles, becomes a cleverly constructed shock.
Unfortunately, nothing else matches that moment.
Concept
The concept isn't the problem, as the idea of Palestinians trapped in
the past, refusing to acknowledge the painful changes around them,
could be an interesting one if well pursued. The Toumas' internal
exile gives them no consolation, and their perpetual mourning of the
past is purely social rather than political (of course, the political
rendered the social obsolete). Not that politics are completely
absent: Badia falls for Khalil (Nicholas Jacob), a wedding singer from
the Kalandia refugee camp, and despite the sisters' hermetic
existence, they can't close out the sound of shelling during the
Second Intifada.
These subtleties are drowned out by the film's mannered melodrama.
There's the didactic screenplay, ensuring viewers understand the
situation via phony explanatory dialogue (don't look for any
similarities between this and Chekhov's "Three Sisters."). Then
there's Arraf's handling of her performers, especially the actors
playing the sisters, all of whom have fortunately proven their talents
elsewhere. Juliette behaves as if she's got an onion perpetually under
her nose, while Violette seems to have something more pungent under
hers, and Antoinette is short on personality, even a one-dimensional
one like those of her sisters.
Camerawork is meant to emphasize the characters' fixed lives via
static lensing and establishing shots, yet the stiff visuals are
rendered distressingly flat by unmodulated lighting that deadens every
image within the house. Music is poorly inserted, lacking consistency
and cohesion. At least the production design is praiseworthy.
VENICE, Italy: Fatih Akin's "The Cut" is the first movie by a director
with Turkish roots to tackle an issue long taboo in the country: the
early 20th-century mass killings of Armenians by Ottoman Turks. The
movie caused a stir in Turkey even before its Venice Film Festival
premiere, bringing the German-Turkish director criticism and threats.
But Akin insists he's not a pioneer, or a provocateur. He's simply
trying to bring the topic into the open. "There (was) a trauma 100
years ago and -- you know this from individual analysis -- if you don't
confront yourself with the trauma you will never get cured," the
director said during an interview in Venice, where "The Cut" is one of
20 films competing for the Golden Lion prize.
"I think what counts for an individual counts also for society."
Historians estimate that as many as 1.5 million Armenians were killed
by Ottoman Turks in 1915, an event widely viewed by scholars as the
first 20th-century massacre. Turkey denies that the deaths constituted
massacre, saying the toll has been inflated, and that people died on
both sides as the Ottoman Empire disintegrated during World War I.
The killings remain an inflammatory issue for Turkish nationalists.
Akin and an Armenian-Turkish newspaper received harassment and threats
after he gave an interview recently about the movie.
But Akin said Turkey has begun to debate the issue more openly.
Earlier this year, then-Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan said the
country was ready to "confront" the ethnic slayings.
"There is a process of analyzing this trauma in Turkey, and I am part
of the process," Akin said.
"The Cut" confronts the story through the tale of an Armenian
blacksmith -- the Biblically named Nazaret, played by "A Prophet" star
Tahar Rahim -- who is torn from his family amid the killing and spends
years searching around the world for his daughters. Criticism of the
film in Venice has been more artistic than political. In the
screenplay by Akin and Armenian-American scriptwriter Mardik Martin
(who co-wrote Martin Scorsese's "Raging Bull"), the Armenian
characters speak in English and the others in their own languages.
Some reviewers found that gave the film a stilted air. (Agencies) And
some felt Rahim's performance was hampered by the decision to have
Nazaret rendered mute by a knife to the throat early on. Akin was
stung by the negative reviews, but said the most important audiences
for the film will be Turks and Armenians.
Shot on 35-millimeter film stock, rather than digitally, and using
widescreen Cinemascope lenses, it takes visual cues from the likes of
Sergio Leone and Terrence Malik, offering stunning panoramas as the
lonely figure of Nazaret travels from Turkey to Syria, Cuba, Minnesota
and North Dakota. "When I was reading and analyzing about the
massacre, I discovered quite early that the massacre is not just about
killing," he said. "It's also about the diaspora, the spread of the
Armenian folk all over the world." "All my films are about migration,"
said Akin, who was born in Hamburg in 1973 to Turkish parents.
Akin has called "The Cut" the final chapter in a trilogy he's named
"Love, Death and the Devil." The two earlier instalments, "Head-On"
and "The Edge of Heaven," both dealt with tangled identities and moved
between Germany and Turkey. The director said all three films explored
his relationship with his ancestral land. Now he's ready for a change.
"I am done with Turks," he said. "I want to work with blonde people
called Hans, eating sausages." (Agencies)
By Jay Weissberggr
http://www.arabtimesonline.com/NewsDetails/tabid/96/smid/414/ArticleID/209083/reftab/73/Default.aspx
Sept 5 2014
Atkin's 'Cut' puts Armenian massacre on screen Stateless 'Villa'
brings strong message
The idea of a film without a country makes an excellent statement
about the Israeli-Palestinian disaster -- it's a pity the concept is
considerably more powerful than the movie at hand. Given Suha Arraf's
record as scripter on "The Syrian Bride" and "Lemon Tree," one expects
more than ham-fisted dialogue from her helming debut, "Villa Touma," .
Stolid, stilted and lensed with little understanding of modulation,
the pic has sparked controversy, yet once that dies down, "Villa" will
be subsumed by far superior Palestinian product.
Arraf originally submitted the film as a Palestinian production, but
when Israeli politicos realized that all the coin came from Israel,
they demanded the money back. The compromise, sending the pic to fests
as a stateless feature, is such a clever idea it's surprising it's not
done more often; if only "Villa Touma" on its own could make such a
potent declaration. The Palestinian haute bourgeoisie, pre- and
post-Israeli statehood, has been frustratingly neglected in cinema,
making the missed opportunity here truly unfortunate.
Orphanage
In 2000, when Badia (Maria Zreik) ages out of the Christian orphanage
where she grew up, she has nowhere to go but to the aunts she's never
met. The three sisters exist in semi-isolated stasis in their villa,
living as if nothing has changed since the Six-Day War, when Israel
took the city. The eldest, Juliette (Nisreen Faour, "Amreeka") greets
her niece even less warmly than Mrs Danvers greeted the second Mrs de
Winter: Clearly, Badia is not a welcome addition to this unhappy home.
Juliette rules the roost, middle sister Violette (Ula Tabari) is the
neurotic one, and younger Antoinette (Cherien Dabis, director-star of
"May in the Summer") remains perpetually under her siblings' viselike
control. Their home is one of unbending routine, their fashions
unchanged since the early 1960s (though most would have been outdated
even then). Violette was briefly hitched to an elderly man who keeled
over shortly after their wedding; her fleeting marriage makes her feel
superior, yet the self-torment of what could have been has made her a
pinched, bitter mess.
Into this hothouse comes timid Badia, underage and unschooled in the
proprieties of "society." In anticipation of marrying her off to one
of the few eligible bachelors among Ramallah's remaining upper caste,
the sisters impose a strict program of piano lessons, posture and
deportment, but when they try launching the blossoming young woman via
church encounters and tea socials, they're largely rebuffed by people
who view the family as oddities.
"Villa Touma" has one good moment, when the sisters, with Badia in
tow, exit their home and walk to church. Auds forget the modern world
exists after the antediluvian world inside the house, so the sight of
these four, dressed in kid gloves and hat veils, walking down the
streets of present-day Ramallah with its cacophony of noise, traffic
and wolf whistles, becomes a cleverly constructed shock.
Unfortunately, nothing else matches that moment.
Concept
The concept isn't the problem, as the idea of Palestinians trapped in
the past, refusing to acknowledge the painful changes around them,
could be an interesting one if well pursued. The Toumas' internal
exile gives them no consolation, and their perpetual mourning of the
past is purely social rather than political (of course, the political
rendered the social obsolete). Not that politics are completely
absent: Badia falls for Khalil (Nicholas Jacob), a wedding singer from
the Kalandia refugee camp, and despite the sisters' hermetic
existence, they can't close out the sound of shelling during the
Second Intifada.
These subtleties are drowned out by the film's mannered melodrama.
There's the didactic screenplay, ensuring viewers understand the
situation via phony explanatory dialogue (don't look for any
similarities between this and Chekhov's "Three Sisters."). Then
there's Arraf's handling of her performers, especially the actors
playing the sisters, all of whom have fortunately proven their talents
elsewhere. Juliette behaves as if she's got an onion perpetually under
her nose, while Violette seems to have something more pungent under
hers, and Antoinette is short on personality, even a one-dimensional
one like those of her sisters.
Camerawork is meant to emphasize the characters' fixed lives via
static lensing and establishing shots, yet the stiff visuals are
rendered distressingly flat by unmodulated lighting that deadens every
image within the house. Music is poorly inserted, lacking consistency
and cohesion. At least the production design is praiseworthy.
VENICE, Italy: Fatih Akin's "The Cut" is the first movie by a director
with Turkish roots to tackle an issue long taboo in the country: the
early 20th-century mass killings of Armenians by Ottoman Turks. The
movie caused a stir in Turkey even before its Venice Film Festival
premiere, bringing the German-Turkish director criticism and threats.
But Akin insists he's not a pioneer, or a provocateur. He's simply
trying to bring the topic into the open. "There (was) a trauma 100
years ago and -- you know this from individual analysis -- if you don't
confront yourself with the trauma you will never get cured," the
director said during an interview in Venice, where "The Cut" is one of
20 films competing for the Golden Lion prize.
"I think what counts for an individual counts also for society."
Historians estimate that as many as 1.5 million Armenians were killed
by Ottoman Turks in 1915, an event widely viewed by scholars as the
first 20th-century massacre. Turkey denies that the deaths constituted
massacre, saying the toll has been inflated, and that people died on
both sides as the Ottoman Empire disintegrated during World War I.
The killings remain an inflammatory issue for Turkish nationalists.
Akin and an Armenian-Turkish newspaper received harassment and threats
after he gave an interview recently about the movie.
But Akin said Turkey has begun to debate the issue more openly.
Earlier this year, then-Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan said the
country was ready to "confront" the ethnic slayings.
"There is a process of analyzing this trauma in Turkey, and I am part
of the process," Akin said.
"The Cut" confronts the story through the tale of an Armenian
blacksmith -- the Biblically named Nazaret, played by "A Prophet" star
Tahar Rahim -- who is torn from his family amid the killing and spends
years searching around the world for his daughters. Criticism of the
film in Venice has been more artistic than political. In the
screenplay by Akin and Armenian-American scriptwriter Mardik Martin
(who co-wrote Martin Scorsese's "Raging Bull"), the Armenian
characters speak in English and the others in their own languages.
Some reviewers found that gave the film a stilted air. (Agencies) And
some felt Rahim's performance was hampered by the decision to have
Nazaret rendered mute by a knife to the throat early on. Akin was
stung by the negative reviews, but said the most important audiences
for the film will be Turks and Armenians.
Shot on 35-millimeter film stock, rather than digitally, and using
widescreen Cinemascope lenses, it takes visual cues from the likes of
Sergio Leone and Terrence Malik, offering stunning panoramas as the
lonely figure of Nazaret travels from Turkey to Syria, Cuba, Minnesota
and North Dakota. "When I was reading and analyzing about the
massacre, I discovered quite early that the massacre is not just about
killing," he said. "It's also about the diaspora, the spread of the
Armenian folk all over the world." "All my films are about migration,"
said Akin, who was born in Hamburg in 1973 to Turkish parents.
Akin has called "The Cut" the final chapter in a trilogy he's named
"Love, Death and the Devil." The two earlier instalments, "Head-On"
and "The Edge of Heaven," both dealt with tangled identities and moved
between Germany and Turkey. The director said all three films explored
his relationship with his ancestral land. Now he's ready for a change.
"I am done with Turks," he said. "I want to work with blonde people
called Hans, eating sausages." (Agencies)
By Jay Weissberggr
http://www.arabtimesonline.com/NewsDetails/tabid/96/smid/414/ArticleID/209083/reftab/73/Default.aspx