Category: Drama

The Worst Person In The World (Verdens Verste Menneske)

Rated: MA15+The Worst Person In The World

Directed by: Joachim Trier

Screenplay Written by: Eskil Vogt, Joachim Trier

Produced by: Thomas Robsahm, Andrea Berentsen Ottmar

Executive Producers: Dyveke Bjøkly Graver, Tom Erik Kjeseth, Eskil Vogt, Joachim Trier

Starring: Renate Reinsve, Anders Danielsen Lie, Herbert Nordrum, Hans Olav Brenner, Helene Bjørneby.

Viewed in Norwegian with English Subtitles

“You need to be completely free.”

Julie (Renate Reinsve) stands smoking in a black cocktail dress with the city in the background.

The Worst Person In the World follows Julie as she figures out life.

She starts off studying to be a surgeon, then psychology then photography.

Moving from one thing to the next, she never quite finishes anything.  But she lives and loves.

The film is set out in 12 chapters, with a prologue and epilogue.  This is the analytical part of the film and something the character Aksel (Anders Danielsen Lie) would appreciate.  He’s a comic creator that analyses everything.

Julie loves him.

But doesn’t love him.

Aksel tells her, You need to be completely free.’

That’s the first time she realises that she loves him.

Until she meets Eivind (Herbert Nordrum).

In an interview with director and screenwriter Joachim Trier, he’s asked to talk, “more about the very literary way the film is broken into chapters?”

“We had this idea early on when writing: to show fragments of a life and that the space between the chapters was as important as what we actually see. This is a coming-of-age film but for grownups who feel like they still haven’t grown up. To find a structure of covering several years in a life, from when Julie is in her mid-twenties to her early thirties, we found the humour of a “literary” framework to help us tell that story. The almost novelistic form also reflects Julie’s longing for a grand literary destiny, almost as if she unconsciously wishes her life to have a literary form.”

I’m trying not to think too deeply about the explanation of, coming-of-age film but for grownups who feel like they still haven’t grown up.  I related to this character, Julie, as she tried to figure out what she wants or why she feels the way she does.

But more than relating to the feelings of how to navigate love while remaining independent and free (yes, am still thinking about the film a week later), the way the film’s put together adds to that feeling of running towards what’s right.

That moment when everything else ceases (literally frozen in the film) as Julie runs through the streets to imagine that feeling of being in the right place.  And then going for it.  It’s hard not to get swept up into it all.

There’s something refreshing about seeing all those silent thoughts shown in a clever way so the film is more than a romance or a drama, there’s a quiet that’s absorbing.  Like the silence is there to allow reflection.

Colours are used to introduce the film: yellow and blue to black and are then circled back to later so there’s this sense of completion, like Julie reaches another layer, like it’s that layer she’s been searching for all along.

And the dialogue adds another element, the, ‘Intellectual Viagra,’ comment.

And, ‘She’s just shy.’

‘That’s what you say about boring people.’

Again, silence used when Aksel says, ‘Kids are intense.’

To which Julie replies by taking a large sip of red wine.

It’s a journey that ended up in places unexpected – sexy, clever, sad and poetic.

If you’re not usually a fan of romance, this is one of the good ones.

Best Sellers

Rated: MBest Sellers

Directed by: Lina Roessler

Written by: Anthony Grieco

Director of Photography: Claudine Sauvé

Editor: Arthur Tarnowski

Produced by: Jonathan Vanger, Pierre Even, Cassian Elwes, Arielle Elwes, Wayne Marc Godfrey

Executive Produced by: Petr Jakl, Martin J Barab

Starring: Sir Michael Caine, Aubrey Plaza, Scott Speedman and Rachel Spence.

Best Sellers is a film about a crotchety recluse writer (he has, ‘Piss off’ taped to his front door), and a failing publisher, Lucy Skinner (Aubrey Plaza).

Lucy’s boutique publishing house is about to go under if she doesn’t find a relevant writer fast.

Enter, Harris Shaw (Sir Michael Caine).

The introduction of Harris Shaw, follows his ginger cat as it makes its way into his study to find him coughing and typing.   The phone rings, ‘He’s dead.  Bugger off,’ he says.

Harris is the classic Johnny Walker, Black Label, cigar smoking recluse writer Sir Michael Caine was made for.

Swipe to classical music: the city, a clean office and publisher Lucy Skinner getting the latest review of her recent Young Adult publication being read by side kick and assistant, Rachel Spence (Elle Wong).  It’s bad.

She needs a writer that will save the publishing house.

She needs Harris Shaw.

He could be dead,’ says Rachel.

Owing the publishing house a manuscript, on the proviso there’s no editing as long as he agrees to go on a book tour, Harris and Lucy set off in Shaw’s green Jag where he starts trending after introducing his book by reading an excerpt from Penthouse.

His favourite way to describe the book tour: ‘It’s all bullshite.’

‘Bullshite’ becomes a hash tag.

And of course the publisher and writer don’t get along, but along the journey bond while Lucy vomits in the toilet.

I like crotchety characters and movies about writers, so I enjoyed the banter between, ‘Silver spoon’ Lucy and, ‘It’s all Bullshite,’ Harris Shaw.

There’s tension and obstacles to overcome, getting to the heart of this abrasive yet brilliant man that got me cheering and quietly chuckling as Shaw declares his hatred for critics – it really does suck to be a critic sometimes.

But I have to say (speaking of being a critic) the soundtrack with that 70s jangle of music to try to lift the film into old-man-cheek, cheapened the sentiment.  Shaw’s like a Hemingway character with his ginger cat and cigar smoking from his mouth while typing the next, Best Seller.  The character deserved something more deliberate.  More… blunt.  Not, dandy grandfather music.

So there’s discord between the thoughtful and funny script writing from Anthony Grieco and the underlying tone built by the soundtrack.

The script includes snippets of poignant sentences like, ‘Art is not propaganda.  It’s an expression of truth,’ giving the usual drama of, I’m-here-because-this-happened, a little more.

So when the character asks the question, ‘Who put a collar on you?’  Dandy guitars aren’t going to reflect the truth of the character.

Best Sellers is a good movie.  Could be been a great movie.

Alien On Stage

Directed by: Danielle Kummer & Lucy HarveyAlien On Stage

Cinematography: Danielle Kummer

Produced by: Danielle Kummer, Lucy Harvey

Executive Producer: Adam F. Goldberg

Featuring: Dave Mitchell (director, Paranoid Dramatics), Luc Hayward (writer, sound, costume design), Raymond Hayward (set designer), Peter Lawford (creature designer, special effects artist), Amie Wells (crew costume design).

Cast of Play: Jason Hill (Captain Dallas), Lydia Hayward (Lieutenant Ripley), Jacqui Roe (Science Officer Ash), Susan Baird (Ash Stunt Double), Carolyn White (Lambert), John Elliot (Brett), Mike Rustici (Parker), Scott Douglas (Kane/Xenomorph) and Penny Thorne (Voice of Mother).

‘Anything can happen on the night.’

Every year around Christmas across Britain, amateur dramatics groups put on a pantomime to raise money for charity.

Dorset dramatics group, Paranoid Dramatics have previously put on a crowd pleasing show about Robin Hood.  But this time director, Dave Mitchell wants to try something different.  Something close to his heart and his family’s, who’s obsession with the film, Alien is shown with great pride.

This time, he wants, Alien on Stage.

The actors: local Dorset bus drivers.

Adam, manager at the bus depot says in an interview that he’s seen the movie Alien, but ‘can’t imagine how you convert that into a stage drama.’

And that just adds to the comedy of the show.

This is one of those feel good doco’s about everyday people doing something extraordinary while having a good laugh.

Everyone pitches in.

It’s great excuse for a catchup and gossip – eating together, drinking together (instead of learning their lines).  And in the end that’s what makes the film such a joy to watch.  To see the backstage shenanigans; to get to know the people.

There’s Karl, the stage manager: ‘the director is my dad.’

Dave the director is ex-army and admits, ‘I can be blunt.’

There’s Lydia his partner also part of the team as, Ripley.

And Granddad Ray as set designer.

All the work is from scratch with the script adaptation written by Luc Hayward who was told he’d never see his work on stage (unless he considered moving to L.A.).

Then there’s Jacqui (Ash on stage) – her drama teacher the only one who ever gave her a chance, who stood by her when her head teacher said she’d fail every exam at school.  All Jacqui wants to do is act.  Even if it’s for free.

All the cast and crew want to be there.  They want to do the work.

But then only twenty people turn up to watch the show.

It’s all disappointment then shrugged off with a smile.

Then the incredible happens when film makers Danielle Kummer & Lucy Harvey make contact (ha, ha), wanting to make this documentary.  To film the journey as the, Alien On Stage production gets a one night show in London.  At the Leicester Square Theatre.

The nerves.  The excitement.

The trying to learn the lines.

This is a cast that doesn’t take themselves too seriously.  And that’s part of the charm.

Just like the film Alien, it’s like two worlds colliding (well, the folk from Dorset a welcome visit, not eaten alive, even though they might feel it’s a distinct possibility) as the amateur theatre group gets thrust into the spotlight of the elite theatre district of London.

The incongruent adds that extra layer of wry humour which gives the documentary, as described by the filmaker Lucy Harvey, a touch of magic.

Kummer and Harvey follow all those involved in the project, replicating that square green font on computer screen (keeping in mind that Alienesque vibe), as the days count down to the big show.

It’s a behind the scenes documentary made up of interviews, rehearsals and Alien Cam – footage shot from the perspective of the Alien / Xenomorph while up on stage.

But any animation or finesse made by the documentary crew is background to the team that is, Alien on Stage.

I smiled through the entire film, seeing the genuine excitement and joy and so much laughter as the cast and crew pulled together to put on the best show they possibly could.

It’s absolutely nerve-racking.

‘My legs don’t work,’ says Lydia, just before walking on stage.

‘I’m going for a cigarette,’ says director Dave.

This is a lighthearted good fun documentary that delivers.  I’m still grinning.

Disclosure

Rated: MA15+Disclosure

Written and Directed by: Michael Bentham

Starring: Geraldine Hakewill, Matilda Ridgway, Mark Leonard Winter and Tom Wren.

‘There are two sides to every story, and then there is the truth.’ – Anon.

Disclosure is a complex, layered and thought-provoking film, where the perspective of each character shows a different version of their truth.

That’s the narrative of the film: four parents trying to come to an understanding when Emily (Matilda Ridgway) and Danny Bowman’s (Mark Leonard Winter) four-year-old daughter, Natasha describes sexual abuse from Ethan: the nine-year-old son of Bek (Geraldine Hakewill) and Joel Chalmers (Tom Wren).

Bek refuses to believe her son capable of such an act.

And Emily is distraught that such an act has happened to her daughter.

Do they go to Child Protection?

Do they seek counselling for their children?

What decision will do the least damage to their kids?

Set in the house and backyard of the Bowmans, the film is made of silence between the dialogue, between the parents trying to behave as adults while they fall apart.

At first the film shows fractures in the façade: the politician, an MP currently under the watchful eye of police protection with his immaculate wife dressed for a fund raiser.  A family doing the best for the community.

And then there’s the two journalists, award winning documentary on the horizon, a book waiting to be published.

Intelligent.  Adults.  Friends.

Surely they can come to an understanding.

But as the conversation continues, the cicadas fill those awkward silences as the fractures widen into cracks.

‘My daughter has a name,’ says Danny.

While Joel the MP asks for reason as he’s about to launch a campaign: Strong families.  Safe children.

The complexities underneath the words are slowly revealed.

The characters drive the film as the environment of the house in the suburbs, filmed in the Dandenong’s, surrounded by trees is deceiving in its simplicity; as the parents sit by the pool, a spider dancing across the water, as shadows move underneath.

The setting is used to show the emotional tone of shock.  The distress of even talking about a son abusing a friend’s daughter leaking through the surface adults hold firmly in place: would you like a drink?  Snacks are arranged.  All those rituals of social engagement are slowly worn away as the parents attempt to process what may or may not have happened with their children.  And the consequences.

This is a tough topic to portray in a film, writer and director, Michael Bentham using the slowing down of movement, the drawing away of the camera to show denial; the shadows across a face to represent barely controlled anger, a spider web stepping the process of thought from one layer to another.

The very idea of sex and kids and porn and what’s OK for adults and how that can influence the behaviour of a child, to dealing with allegations from another child is like a minefield.  The difficulty of figuring the right way to handle the situation without losing your mind as a parent is navigated through dark corridors, beyond the surface into unexpected deep layers to where the characters hold their own truth.

I didn’t expect the depth of this film.

And the dialogue and delivery is strong.

But not always hitting the mark.

And although the slow motion was used well, the scenes with slow motion and missing frames (like a stop frame technique) feels cheap and makes me think of some re-enactment of a crime story on the news.

Having said that, if you’re in the mood for a quiet thought-provoker, the way the complexity of character is revealed makes, Disclosure a riveting watch.

The County (Héraðið)

Rated:The County

Directed and Written by: Grimur Hakonarson

Starring: Ardís Hrönn Egilsdottir, Sveinn Ólafur Gunnarsson, Hinrik Olafsson, borsteinn Bachmann.

Icelandic with English subtitles

The Co-op grocery store.
The back-stop of the community.

In true farming fashion, Inga (Ardís Hrönn Egilsdottir) pulls a calf from a cow’s womb.
The calf looks up. Healthy.
Inga sits back, proud.

This is a woman who takes pride in her work. Not pride, exactly. Appreciation, of the everyday.

Her husband, Reynir (Hinrik Olafsson) snuggles close to her as Inga works in bed on her laptop, writing.

Seems like an ordinary life – a farm in The County, surrounded by snow on heather; there’s tractors and drinking while watching the game.

Then it starts.

First with a man from the Co-op bailing up a painter for buying his paint from elsewhere.

Then Inga wonders why they can’t buy fertilizer cheaper from a different distributor.

Why should the Co-op decide where they purchase their goods?

Why?

Because the Co-op will take the land from under the farmers if there’s debt.

And how do farmers get out of debt when they’re forced to pay more from the Co-Op?

They can’t.

It’s what Inga calls, ‘The Co-op mafia.’

And she’s not afraid to post articles about it.

The County is a slow burn drama (not really a comedy) that follows Inga as she uncovers the wrong that so many others in the community turn a blind eye to because of the hold one company can have when they’re the only option.

But there’s more to the story then a bent company.

This is a slow tear tracing a cheek as the snow falls.

This is about grief. And letting go.

I like the message here and seeing the strength of character – a woman standing up for what’s right; to free herself.

Quiet in the telling, this is a countryside drama without any thrills, just a good quality character study without flash because Inga wouldn’t need it.

Better to see the truth.

Little Joe

Rated: MLittle Joe

Directed and Screenplay by: Jessica Hausner

Produced by: Bruno Wagner, Bertrand Faivre, Philippe Bober Martin Gschlacht, Jessica Hausner, Gerardine O’Flynn

Cinematography: Martin Gschlacht

Starring: Emily Beecham, Ben Wishaw, Kerry Fox, Kit Connor, David Wilmot, Phénix Brossard, Sebastian Hülk and Lindsay Duncan.

Plant breeder, Alice (Emily Beecham) has genetically engineered a plant that releases a scent to make its owner happy.

She names the mood lifting plant after her son: Little Joe.

Alice has a good relationship with Joe (Kit Connor); a typical teenager, ‘Yep, whatever.’

Until he breathes in the scent of the happy plant.  Because once you breath in the scent of Little Joe, you become infected.  You become, a different person.

That’s what Bella (Kerry Fox) says.  A plant breeder for over twenty years.

But she’s crazy.  She has to be crazy to think a plant can change someone.

The premise of the film, superficially, seems a stretch.  But the way the story unfolds leads with the spacious feeling of a secret.  I wasn’t sure where I was being led but there were a lot of red flags.  Literally: the red font in the opening credits, the red diffuse light, the red hair, red car, red cherry, all leading back to the red flower of the plant named, Little Joe.

That feeling of a secret, of a quiet other world is enhanced by the soundtrack, the music written by Japanese composer, Teiji Ito.  There’s this high-pitched whistle, like the plants are communicating amongst the sound of a flute floating, building with drums that flourish, marking steps in the story that are guided by science.

The strangeness of the idea works because the characters are scientists talking about science – the genetically engineered plants created using virus vectors that release oxytocin.

Bella makes the point that because the plant is sterile – has to be made sterile, because it’s genetically engineered and there’s a risk of the plant running wild in nature, and of course the commercial aspect – it’s natural for the plant to want to reproduce.  So, imagine a plant where a virus vector mutates to not only cause happiness, but to work towards reproducing itself.

Oxytocin, is otherwise known as the mother hormone because it’s released into the blood stream in response to love and childbirth, to create a bond.

You look after the plant, you feed it, keep it warm, talk to it, and Little Joe rewards you with happiness.

‘Knock on wood.’

Says Alice during a therapy session.

‘What worries you?’ asks her psychotherapist (Lindsay Duncan).

Knock on wood.

Which of your children will you choose?

The film follows Alice as she navigates her desire to work versus the love she has for Joe, her feelings towards fellow scientist, Chris (Ben Wishaw) and her fear that the plant she’s created is in fact changing people.

Is it fear that distorts how she sees the world?  Or is she finally able to see what she’s really afraid of?

What is it that she secretly wishes for?

The film scratches at those secret desires using those feelings as a vehicle to hide the agenda of the story.  Like the agenda of a new entity that wants to reproduce but can’t, so uses the happy hormone to replicate, to be cared for.

It’s clever.  But the tone of film isn’t about being clever; it’s just different.  And interesting, with a subtle flavour of the disconcerting.

 

Herself

Rated: MA 15+Herself

Directed by: Phyllida Lloyd

Written by: Malcolm Campbell, Clare Dunne

Produced by: Sharon Horgan, Ed Guiney, Rory Gilmartin

Starring: Clare Dunne, Harriet Walter, Conleth Hill, Ian Lloyd Anderson.

‘I miss him. I don’t mean him, I mean who he was. I want to fix it.’

This is just one of the many heartbreaking tests to her resolve that a woman must face when she flees her home and her partner to protect herself and her children.

On one level, Herself is a subtle game of cat and mouse between husband and wife (especially on
the husband’s side).

While his character operates mostly from behind the scenes, the escalation of
the husband’s machinations asks whether this is a man sinking into the depths his own desperation
or a monster gradually revealing himself.

At the same time his wife is discovering both the depths and the heights of what she will do to take care of her children.

The film opens on three silhouetted figures and the sounds of children giggling. Two young girls are
inexpertly applying makeup to their mother’s face. Beneath her right eye is a distinctive birthmark,
from a distance it could almost be a black eye, but Sandra (Clare Dunne) asks her daughters not to
cover it up and she relates a sweet story to Emily and Molly about how it makes her special.

Later that afternoon when Gary (Ian Lloyd Anderson) arrives home from work his daughters run to
him, still giggling. This man is clearly not a monster. That is, until he sends his daughters out into the
garden. Gary has found some cash that Sandra had hidden and he fears that she could use the
money to leave him. He wants to make her stay, but what he does next is the very thing that will
ensure that Sandra does leave, however reluctant she may have been to take such a vast step into
the unknown.

As it is, Sandra and her daughters find themselves crammed into a tiny room at an airport hotel and
Gary is forced to move back in with his parents. Although Sandra and the girls adapt to their new
situation, using the airport car park as their own roller skating rink, it’s not a long term solution. But
Sandra cannot go back. Nor can she find her girls a permanent home. Like many parts of the western
world prior to the pandemic, Sandra endures long queues for rental properties that are ultimately
unattainable.

It is not until she is snuggled up with the girls one night and her eldest, Emily, relates a
story that she had heard in class that Sandra lights upon a solution.

She will build her own house.

It’s an unlikely undertaking for a single mother working two low paid jobs and not a single skill related to carpentry or building but, as it turns out, it’s still more likely than finding a rental.

However, trouble is brewing in the wings. When he cannot bribe his girls and he fails to persuade
Sandra to come back to him, Gary resorts to guilt trips and manipulation, and finally he turns to
force. This time, using the courts as his bludgeon.

For once, Sandra is intimidated. She is so fearful that she is even prepared to cover up her birthmark,
if that will help to convince the court that she is a responsible and capable mother.

An engaging cast takes this conversation we as a society must have and raises it to a warm and
engrossing story; even as, at the same time, it is a realistic depiction of the tug of longing, the
practical difficulties, the uncertainty and the disruption to their lives that women and children must
endure when they are forced to abandon their home.

In The Heights

Rated: PGIn The Heights

Directed by: Jon M Chu

Produced by: Lin-Manuel Miranda

Starring: Anthony Ramos, Corey Hawkins, Lesley Grace, Melissa Barrera, Olga Merediz, Daphine Rubin-Vega, Gregory Diaz IV, Stephanie Beatriz, Dascha Polanco and Jimmy Smits.

‘I’m home.’

It’s three days until the blackout.  And it’s hot in Washington Heights.

Everyone in the block is fanning themselves as they dream their sueñito: little dream.

Bodega owner Usnavi (Anthony Ramos) dreams of running his father’s beach bar back in the Dominican Republic.

Vanessa (Melissa Barrera) dreams of becoming a fashion designer.

In The Heights is colourful and full of soul, hope and love as everyone fights for their own little dream. And there’s singing.  The entire movie is singing.

I know that it’s a musical.  I’m not saying I completely ignored the advertising.  But when I say the entire movie, I mean there’s signing about everything: coffee, fireworks, all the dialogue.

It took me a good long while to warm up because it was all a bit overwhelming and at the start all I could think was, can you please stop singing!

Then Nina (Lesley Grace), returned-from-college, and boyfriend-left-behind, Ben (Corey Hawkins) start with these absolutely pristine, stunning voices and it all kinda started to click.

The story has layers: the classic making a move when it’s too late, looking everywhere but what’s in front; there’s change and dealing with that change, the struggle to keep working everyday, just to make ends meet; and how some take a run at their dream only to realise it’s not what they really want at all.

Sometimes it’s just about adding details to hold dignity.

Aunt to everyone in the block, Abula Claudia takes the time to share the hardship of her mother travelling to America, to work as a maid, who covered her red worked hands with beautiful velvet gloves because it felt nice to wear those gloves.  She would create something special by stitching intricate patterns into cloth.  To hold dignity in the little things.

And this detail translates into the film itself, a musical not just for show but surprise with all those extra flourishes in the choreography and blending of animation into a scene or to dance on the side of a building to tilt the world, to have bolts of cloth unravel, up in the sky while running so fast underneath.  All these details gave this musical its own dignity.

I admit, I am not a fan of musicals, especially when the characters sing about what they’re doing from one moment to next.  But there’s real beauty here, with just a touch of magic.

The Mole Agent

Rated: GThe Mole Agent

Directed by: Maite Alberdi

Produced by: Marcela Santibáñez

Executive Producer: Christopher Clements, Carolyn Hepburn, Julie Goldman

Featuring as Themselves: Sergio as the Spy, Romulo as the Private Detective, and the Residents of the Nursing Home: Berta “Bertita” Ureta, Marta Olivares, Petronila “Petita” Abarca, Rubira Olivares, Zoila González.

Spanish (Chilean) with English subtitles.

“Elderly man needed. Between 80-90 years old.”

Job: spying on old folks and staff in a nursing home for three months.

Well, to report back about target, Sophia Perez because her daughter is concerned that Sophia’s being mistreated.

It took me a moment to realise the film was a documentary as, The Mole Agent begins with this light-hearted tone of jazzy soundtrack featuring classic moments of eighty-plus-year-olds being taught to work mobile phones; the successful candidate, 83-year-old Sergio being shown how to call via Facetime, leave voicemail messages via WhatsApp to make his, ‘Deliveries’ or pass information to private investigator Romulo to then translate back to the client.

The older generation tying to figure mobile phones always leads to some amusing moments.

But Sergio gets it, kinda.

It was when the cameras filming the documentary were shown via a mobile camera as Sergio’s being taught to use the device that the film turns from comedy spy-movie to documentary.

Then we see Sergio enter the nursing home, one resident seen holding her walker with one hand, a hose to water the garden in the other and I realise this is a different kind of documentary.

Sergio begins his mission:

‘Did you meet the new man?’ One resident asks another.

Sergio causes quite a stir.  He’s lucid.  And a gentleman.

Director Maite Alberdi states that the team got authorisation from the nursing home with the understanding that the film was a documentary about the elderly (not following an unknown ‘spy’ reporting back to a private detective everyday while being filmed by the crew).

The production team were given permission to film for three months with 300 hours of material captured, plus the material filmed by Sergio himself using a spy pen – very clever, if not a little obvious.  Particularly when other residents try to take the pen from his shirt pocket.

So the cameras are seen in the film and explained to the residents with the line about a documentary about the elderly so when new resident Sergio enters, it’s only natural the crew would take interest in the most recent addition.

At one point a resident sitting out in the sun points out to another gran, ‘They’re supposed to be filming a movie, not spying on us.’

But Sergio manages to continue his investigation about the treatment of Mrs Perez without getting busted.

There are many sweet moments: the thieving Marta with her quick hands, always asking when her mother’s going to take her home; there’s the poet Petita reciting her beautiful thoughts, the random resident cats and the surprise birthday celebrations.

There’s Berta who has a crush on Sergio saying she would consider giving God her virginity.  Through her future husband (Sergio).

But realising the film is documentary and not a spy comedy, although there are some funny moments, makes the film that much sadder.

The Mole Agent is like a homage to the isolated and lonely elderly, left and abandoned by their families.

And the depth of sadness felt by these old folks as they try to buck-up and be positive but are really grieving about their lives lost in sacrifice to children who never visit them…  It’s a bit of a heart-breaker.

Over time, instead of spying on the old folks, Sergio befriends them.  And they absolutely love him for it: ‘Thank-you for the company you give us,’ says Zoila.

Even the camera crew were missed, ‘and we missed them!’  The crew reports.

The audience is shown how life is lived in these homes, getting to see behind the closed doors as the cameras become part of the landscape.

The Mole Agent is sweet and very sad; completely different to what I was expecting and truly unique.

When Alberdi was asked, “What do you hope audiences take away and learn from The Mole Agent?”

Alberdi replies, “I would like people who watch this movie to leave the movie theatre wanting to call their parents or grandparents. It is an invitation to look within yourself and ask what you can do better.”

The Audition (Das Vorspiel)

Directed by: Ina WeisseThe Audition (Das Vorspiel)

Written by: Daphne Charizani (screenplay), Ina Weisse (screenwriter)

Produced by: Pierre-Olivier Bardet, Felix von Boehm

Starring: Nina Hoss, Simo Abkarian, Serafin Mishiev, Ilja Monti.

Viewed in German with English subtitles (released as part of the German Film Festival).

“I’m sorry it’s all so complicated right now.”

The Audition follows Anna (Nina Hoss): a violinist, a teacher, a wife and a mother.

She watches young Alexander (Ilja Monit) audition for tutorage at the school where she teaches.  She sees talent. She wants him to be her student.

We watch Anna with her husband, a French violin maker, Philippe (Simon Abkarian).  He loves her.  He understands her, her discomfort, anxiety.  He doesn’t mind swapping tables, swapping plates.

He knows something is wrong just by listening to her play violin.

At first, The Audition feels like it’s about the music, about the protégée, Alexander.  A protégée, but also a replacement for Anna’s lack of success on stage.

But this is a nuanced film that explores the slow twist of relationships to what really matters to Anna: the desperation to succeed.  Her son’s need of a mother’s love.  A mother’s need for her son’s attention.

This is a film about the effect of a son pulling away from his mother.  How it turns her life to seek fulfillment from an affair with another man.  To see her ambition projected onto her young student so she pushes and pushes, eventually setting her own son up in competition against her protégée, Alexander.

This is about how she seeks comfort from the warmth of a hairdryer blown under her jumper.

But more than from her son or lover or husband, Anna needs fulfillment because something’s missing.

The more I write the more I understand the slow reveal of this character, Anna: her mother dying when she was young.  Her father tough with his life lessons.

It’s a carefully constructed narrative, a character study set to the sound of the violin.

This is a bittersweet piece of a person’s life: her successes, her failures and ultimately her need above all else.

It’s a slow burn with layers of music and the language about music, but it’s the undercurrent that’s shown in a look or gesture, the unspoken that speaks the loudest – that’s what the film is really about.

The Audition is a difficult movie to review because it’s a subtle one, a cerebral thought-provoker and a film I’ve enjoyed pulling apart and thinking about after the credits have rolled, almost more than the actual viewing.

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