BFI 61st London Film Festival: The White Girl

Twenty years on since the hand-over of Hong Kong from British rule to China with a fifty year period of autonomy until 2047 and a number of films have been made regarding the anxieties faced by the natives, notably Wong Kar-wai's Cannes-winning "Happy Together". Recent times have seen a growing number of films along these lines - some subversive, others looking more at the practicalities - alongside periods of protest at the impending loss of a way of life.

Jenny Suen's debut feature is along the subversive lines, teaming-up with Wong's cinematographer on "Happy Together", Christopher Doyle. Set around the last fishing village in Hong Kong, to summarise the plot for "The White Girl" is difficult. The characters largely nameless, the titular "The White Girl" (Angela Yuen) is a student in a class of various ages. Living with her father, a fisherman, she is treated as his servant and told she is allergic to sunlight, like her estranged mother, whose whereabouts are unknown. A singer who made some recordings, she listens to her mother's songs, asking her father as to her story; something he's unwilling to discuss.

Wandering at night when she feels safer to go out, she spends her time at a bay in her underwear, where she meets an equally enigmatic Japanese man (Joe Odagiri), who is living in a watch tower above the village where he is able to project images from the village on to a wall. The Japanese himself befriends a local boy (Jeff Yiu) who helps him set-up his new home.

While these three loaners meet, the local "Village Chief" is making secret plans with a trio from mainland China to bulldoze and concrete the tiny fishing port and build new luxury apartments and entertainment complexes. However, only a limited amount of time is dedicated to the development of this story. Instead, the main focus is on the chance encounters between the three leads and their slow meanders around the village.

There are a number of problems with this film, but let's start with the positives. As you'd expect with cinematography from co-director Christopher Doyle, there are some very interesting shots of blurred focus against dilapidated backdrops. But herein lies a problem. Audiences will no doubt be attracted to Doyle as cinematographer, but working with a complex narrative with a novice director, these shots simply become a pretty visual to overall confusion.

Working with more established directors, Doyle's camerawork is an enhancement of well-constructed filmmaking and storytelling. But having less experience, Suen is unable to construct these shots into a cohesive narrative. Doyle himself a relative novice as a director - limited to documentary, segments and the challenging watches of "Away with Words" and "Warsaw Dark" - is unable to provide mentoring for cohesion either.

The emphasis seems to be on the cinematography over the storytelling: the two leads moving at a slow pace whenever on screen together; their communicating in broken English slow and awkward, with a script that offers few explanations either. As such, much of the film has the surface-level enigma of a fragrance commercial, with meaning left open and little in the way of depth within the characters, with only hints ever provided as to "The White Girl's" story.

Perhaps there are too many ideas working at once here, creating confusion, leaving the audience to wonder if this symbolises that, and that symbolises this. While open ends are always welcome, as there are many ideas, each not fully explored, there are simply too many things to consider, leaving little satisfaction by the film's conclusion. The "Village Chief" and his companions accompanied by music harking back to comedy from the Seventies and Eighties feels out-of-place alongside the slow nature of the rest of the film, and further this sense.

You can see some of the ideas at play here, but over-indulgence has hindered their impact. Perhaps working alongside other young directors, fully developing one of the concepts as a short, à la "Ten Years" would have been a better way to tell the story. As such, "The White Girl" will have limited appeal; something of a pretty mess.

BFI 61st London Film Festival: King of Peking

Even in their own words, it is strange for a Chinese film to have an Australian writer-director and Canadian producer; one they even state is very much of a certain era in Beijing life. But as both were raised in China in the Eighties and Nineties, the informed outsiders may be able to take a more objective look of an era now most-likely lost.

Maybe not so much nowadays, but we've all been offered a pirate DVD in a pub. And that's the basic premise of "King of Peking": a father-son duo of Big Wong and Little Wong who create pirate copies of cinema classics to sell on street corners. Cinephile Big Wong lives with his son after the breakdown off his marriage. Showing films of improvised cinema screens on the street, Big Wong has his son working in every role in film, other than the role left or Big Wong: that of projectionist.  

But soon with their equipment damaged, refunds offered and complaints about wasting money on watching old films they can see on video, the pair lose their market. Big Wong, wanting to still pursue his dream takes a role as a live-in janitor of a local cinema, Little Wong following him there. But without his ex-wife's blessing, she demands custody of the child or huge maintenance payments. Not wanting to lose his business partner, he opts for the latter, but needs to find a way of raising such a large amount of money. Working at a cinema, and fuelled by the seed of home entertainment planted by a disgruntled punter, Big Wong turns to video piracy.

Finding a test model of a DVD recorder in a second-hand shop, he enquires as to where it came from. An abandoned Japanese factory is the answer, which he soon locates, finding a mother-load of the same test model. Setting up a video camera in the cinema where he works, he makes multiple copies of each film shown there, his business partner making covers for the finished product and helping out with dubbing new soundtracks.

Making enough to keep his son and pay his ex-wife, all seems rosy, but his son is unhappy at the constant work and abuse from his father, using him for his own interests. Running away to his mother, he soon loses his business and son's respect, as well as his job, having been found-out.

Making a film you hope to make money out of about piracy is always going to be interesting as to the moral standpoint. And similar to Michel Gondry's "Be Kind Rewind" we a treated to a light-hearted look at film piracy, showing those making the copies are earnest film fans doing it for the love of cinema...and a little bit of money on the side to help them solve a problem. As such, we are forced to root for the pirates: supposedly the killers of the film industry (not multi-millionaire Hollywood producers). The comedy in making the pirate copies is inventive and charming, supposedly done for the right reasons.

And much like the pirate copies they make, Sam Voutas' film has its charms and entertains. Though more perhaps could be done here. While the shot of Big Wong wrapping an entire film reel around his body is clever, being a comedy, this feels rather light, when it could be made more cinematic and demonstrate the reasons why people love film in the first place. Little detail and back story is given to the break-up of Big Wong's marriage and to how things were before the camera starts rolling, and so his place as a good or bad father and man is left ambiguous.

Though despite lacking in more depth, the script has enough humour within it to maintain the film as a well-worked piece, helped by good cinematography and good performances from the two leads. But with a limited filmography as a director himself, Voutas' film comes across more as the work of someone who likes cinema very much, but perhaps lacks the depth of the true love of the cinephile.

Kills on Wheels (60th BFI London Film Festival Part I)

Usually, I gleefully await the arrival of my BFI London Film Festival programme in the post, highlighting all the films I would like to see before whittling them down to a good seven or eight titles that I will actually watch, work, money and being a single entity that can't be in two places at once allowing. But given that I've recently become a father, I can no longer make such selfish journeys to as many films as I may wish.

So, this year, I'm a little limited in the selections I've made, choosing films I definitely want to see, with the exception of Kore-eda Hirokazu's 'After the Storm', as I can't purchase sold out tickets. My first choice ended up being the Hungarian (my son's mother-tongue) film 'Kills on Wheels' (or 'Tiszta szívvel' if you're my wife - translating along the lines of something more like 'Pure Heart').

The English title is a bit simplistic and attempts to dumb down the film to make it more attractive for popcorn fodder. And, yes, while this is a film that involves people in wheelchairs that may or may not take the lives of some of Hungary's, and Serbia's, less law-abiding citizens, there is a bit more going on here than just that.

Rupaszov is a disabled former fireman, recently freed from prison for shooting a police officer when losing his way after an accident that left him paralysed from the waist down. Randomly, he befriends young Zolika and Barba, two disabled youths living in a care home. Taking them to a club to get drunk, he uses them as his assistants in his deeds for Serbian drug baron, Rados, under the belief that nobody would suspect a cripple.

Soon, Rupaszov's talent for picking-off Rados' enemies gains him a nice income and the Serbian offers him big money to take out his key rivals. But, on learning that his seated hitman has been using accomplices, Rados soon sets about making sure all three are 'taken care of.'

On the face of it, the premise is that of a low-level gangster movie, with the disabled element adding something of a twist. But with writer-director Atilla Till having volunteered in care homes; and with some of the leads and most of the extras disabled themselves, this is more a film about the lives of two young kids with disability trying to find their place in the world. Much like we all do at their age.

Zolika struggles to accept his estranged father's payment for his potentially life-saving operation, believing his disability is the cause of his parent's divorce. This leads to some quite personal scenes of novice actor Zoltan Fenyvesi. Rupaszov's physiotherapy is always accompanied by various disabled extras demonstrating rehabilitation methods in the background. But these physical challenges are played alongside more comical ones: Barba struggling to input the correct number at a vending machine; and Rupaszov unable to even flinch at being stabbed in the leg.

The true story of the film is Zolika and Barba's regular attendance at conventions in attempts to get the comic book they are working on published, as Zolika tries to come to terms with his situation. The English title looks at the more face-value aspects of the film, whereas the original Hungarian title fits much better thematically.

The Hungarian film I viewed at the London Film Festival last year, 'Son of Saul', was nominated, and went on to win, the Oscar for best foreign language film. 'Tiszta szívvel' is the Hungarian entry this time around, and probably won't reach the same heights, but is a strong offering tackling difficult subject matter.

Fresh Dressed (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Sacha Jenkins is a journalist I have heard of. I have two books that he co-wrote, in fact: one about hip hop; the other about racism. Both are hilarious. But there's more to Jenkins that cheap laughs, a mainstay of hip hop journalism in the Nineties, he is a man that can speak with authority about hip hop: old school, new school, true school, take you to school.

So, apparently there hasn't been a documentary made about hip hop fashion. Well, there has now. Attire has always been an important part of hip hop, from the olden days of early B' boys, to the designer brand-obsessed raps of the Nineties, to idiotically-dressed pop figures, such as Kanye West and Pharrell Williams. And this is where the film starts.

To start, I was confused. The opening credits, featured embedded interviews with West, Williams and Sean 'Puffy' Combs, of whatever he goes by these days. My expectations from the title and promotional literature I had perused suggested that this would largely be a film about the 'fresh' Eighties, with a 'where'd you get those?' outlook. Instead, I was seeing modern-day megastars discussing their definitions of 'fresh.'

But then things arrive where I was expecting them to be. Starting off with the days of slavery Jenkins does a quick tour of American history, most specifically African-American history, starting with the ideas of 'Sunday best', moving through various musical ages, before approaching the Seventies and the advent of hip hop, and more importantly, its style borne of gang culture. He then moves to the Eighties, and Dapper Dan's 'improved' Louis Vuitton styles that features heavily on many a classic rap album cover.

But then, as with hip hop, we go mainstream as we enter the Nineties, focusing on brands like Cross Colours and Karl Kani, as designers matched their styles to rappers, ensuring that every item they wore heavily featured their brand - something that rappers were only too happy to oblige with.

But things have moved very quickly here, and the vast majority of the film is interviews with designers, and the hip hop figures that have crossed-over into fashion. Business takes over, with discussions about how best to market your brand / oneself. Sean Combs becomes a central figure of the documentary, discussing his cross-over success, now more an entrepreneur than rapper.

This focus disappoints for me. I was much more expecting an exploration of kids' homemade styles, customising their gear to ensure they are fresher than fresh. Instead, this is more an exploration of a small section of the fashion industry, with lots of interviews with middle-aged business executives. It seems that, with the help of Executive Producer Nas, Jenkins makes the most of the interviews he got with some A-list names.

But this is Sacha Jenkins we're talking about here, and so all this business talk is put into a context. Combs, with Sean John, has been a success in 'hip hop fashion', but it seems a lot of his success is due to dropping the hip hop associations. With its Nineties peak, hip hop dominated fashion, with rappers in ads everywhere and big name designers following rappers. Rappers, in turn, set up their own brands, most of which lived short lives. The major labels will always be there, but their association with hip hop was a temporary fad, with more conventional styles the new order of the day.

What starts as innocent Eighties 'freshness' moves to Nineties 'ghetto fabulous' to big money making. The times have changed, and with kids customising their gang colours, owning one's rivals clothes was a sign of conquering their turf. But now, kids get killed over coats of brands they can barely pronounce. Just like hip hop, creative innocence has been lost to the quest for money, making this a hip hop story through-and-through. Though maybe a little more of the old would have made this a little more fresh.

Stretch and Bobbito: Radio That Changed Lives (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

I'm pretty sure I've got a shoebox or two of endless minutes of recorded-off-the-radio hip hop from the Nineties. Sadly, growing up in Luton, I had to make do with Tim Westwood's 'Radio 1 Rap Show' every Friday night at 11-2AM and every Saturday, 9-midnight. The Friday night show was usually better. Every week, I would record all six hours, sometimes adding some minutes from Big Ted and Shortee Bltiz' show on Kiss FM. I would then edit them down, eliminating what I already had or what Lil' Kim had ruined. This was pretty much my life circa '98-'01.

If, however, you were (un)lucky enough to have grown up in New York throughout the Nineties, you would have been able to do the same thing, though to the selections of the much better 'Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito Show'. If you were one of them there rappers with any ounce of skill, you would probably have made your way on to their college broadcast show every Thursday; a show from which the titular pair made little to negative money, but created a lifetime of memories.

Now, in 2015, with the twenty-fifth anniversary of their first broadcast together a week away, or something, Bobbito Garcia has trawled the archives of the video and tape recordings of the show to tell the story of the 'greatest radio show of all time' according to someone.

With a documentary such as this, you don't need too much of a story around it: all you need is some interviews with some people involved and the music will speak for itself. This was the approach for 'The Art of Rap' and is Garcia's approach here. Though there is some contextualising.

To start, we are introduced to the two men themselves: Adrian 'Stretch Armstrong' Bartos and Robert 'Bobbito' Garcia, with interviews with their parents, photos of their school days and some brief storytelling as to how they both found hip hop and in turn each other. Then, they decided to make a college radio show together.

What then follows is about an hour of the duo interviewing various hip hop heads that appeared on the show, all with an accompanying walkman to play the classic freestyles they once said about two decades ago. The likes of Jay-Z, Nas, Eminem, Raekwon, Redman, as well as people you've heard of, all take time to listen to the memories and wax lyrical about just how important the show was for MCs in launching their careers.

But, with a rap radio show only being as good as the rap music on offer, from 1996 onwards, with the decline in the quality of music felt by both, as well as criticism arising from their switch to Hot 97, the pair started a passive aggressive battle of wills, with the more beat-minded Stretch playing increasing ignorant raps to intentionally annoy the more lyrically-focused Bobbito. The show, therefore ended with the decline in hip hop, before a twentieth anniversary reunion show was made in 2010. So, with the twenty-fifth anniversary, they made a documentary.

Everything about this documentary is fun. This is two people doing what they do for the fun of it, loving every minute and barely earning a dollar for the privilege. This is reflected in the film, with both in good spirits throughout the interviews, showing the good rapport they had on the show, and with the hip hop elite.

The music speaks for itself, with endless clips of live freestyles from some of the best wordsmiths available, leaving the audience to HOLLLLLLLLERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

This is probably one more for true heads, who will love it, but can provide an education for those less in the know. It brings back memories and will show you some things you may have missed. This is hip hop for the sheer joy of it and a reminder as to why we followed that path.
 

Ruined Heart: Another Lover Story Between a Criminal and a Whore (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

I'm not quite sure why I decided to watch this film. Perhaps it was that the cinematographer was Christopher Doyle. Maybe it was that it starred Tadanobu Asano. Or, more likely, my extensive knowledge and love of Filipino cinema.

Either way, by the end, I don't believe any of these were reason enough to view this again. Directed by Khavn, this is essentially a seventy minute long music video. With no real narrative to speak of, this is a collection of arthouse shots to an interesting - and I mean interesting - musical score of various genres of interesting - and I mean hmm - music.

The viewer, therefore, is left to put the pieces of the story together themselves, with plot-holes throughout as the scene constantly changes.

Visually, there are some nice moments here, naturally with a film featuring Christopher Doyle as cinematographer. Tadanobu Asano often takes the role of cameraman during the film - as well as the amateur musician that he is - running around with a fisheye lens at the end of his plastered arm.

With music a key feature and Christopher Doyle involved, you can compare this to a Nineties Wong Kar-wai; the musical interludes in his films, of course. Here, however, Khavn has decided against fitting them around a real story, making them more a random collection of moments. Even if you do put the story together, it isn't exactly a life-changer.

For me, this film is just trying to be too cool. The, at times, over-stylised shots just seem to end up being an excuse for lots of gyrating hips; the nameless characters, such as 'The Criminal' or 'The Whore', reflect the lack of depth in the characterisation and storyline; and everything's just a little too 'abstract' to be enjoyable.

There are moments to this film: the street running and car montages, but these should serve as links in a more conventional film, rather than serving as stand-out segments in a string of segments. Things just don't really connect here.

If you want Christopher Doyle cinematography over music, it has been done much better before. If you want Asano giving a cool performance, he's given better, with more interesting characters to work with. The trailer was quite good, but that's essentially what this film feels like: a collection of scenes edited together to some music; story to follow. But, at the end of the day, there just weren't enough midgets with skateboards in the orgy scene for me.

Yakuza Apocalypse (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Takashi Miike isn't quite as prolific as he used to be at his height around fifteen years ago. Now, he works to a casual two or three films a year, rather than his exhausting six or seven on the early Naughties. But, has the drop in quantity resulted in a upturn in quality?

Miike films have always been up and down in terms of quality, switching from bigger budget films, like 'Audition' and 'Ichi the Killer' to low-rent, low quality dross, such as 'Silver' or 'Family'. But this was always Miike's charm. The switching of budget, writers, cast, styles and genres resulted in a lot of experimenting, with ideas from the bad benefiting the good.

Now established and of international renown, his films come with anticipation and expectation - maybe to his films' detriment. He could make a bad film before, and no one would realise. Now if he does we'll all hear about it. Recent films, such as '13 Assassins', 'For Love's Sake, 'Hara-kiri' and 'Lessons of Evil' show a more established director, trusted with bigger budgets and international film festival screenings. And while these have their moments, they are not quite as fun and inventive as his earlier works.

'Yakuza Apocalypse' is his latest film to come with a hint of anticipation as to what might be. With his need to cover each and every genre, we now see him take on the vampire film, set among the yakuza. Kamiura is a local yakuza boss, with the respect of those around him. But he has a secret: he's a yakuza vampire, if there is such a thing. This, however, attracts some unwanted attention, and he is destroyed by his rivals. Though before his demise, he bites his loyal lieutenant, Kageyama, transferring his powers unto him. Seen as a Matrix-style 'The One' , he sets about getting revenge, though by this point, ordinary civilians have turned into yakuza vampires themselves, creating a world of chaos where the old, everyday yakuza have no place.

Being a vampire film, this is of course very silly, with moments that make me largely avoid ever watching films of this ilk, actors tested in their ability to give the most stupid of performances with a straight face. This does add a sense of fun to the film and comparisons to his Nineties films 'Fudoh' and 'Full metal Yakuza' can be made, taking a more zany and comic-book approach to the yakuza genre. Indeed, 'Yakuza Apocalypse' very much feels like it could have been a manga, and I'm surprised one hasn't yet been made - to the best of my knowledge, anyway.

However, the aforementioned films had a bit more edge to them than 'Yakuza Apocalypse'. There's something about the handheld camerawork and straight-to-video feel of these films that suits the more outlandish style, rather than the big sets and production values of his more recent films. The kappa and costumed characters are fun, but feel a bit weird for the sake of being weird, perhaps over-used to the point where it can become a bit farcical. The final fight scene between Kageyama and 'The Raid 2's' Yayan Ruhian is unnecessarily overdrawn, with little real action and suits as a disappointing end, a far cry from the unexpected and instant conclusion of 'Dead or Alive'.

But if you take away any serious attempts at analysis, this is a fun film, with a little bit of everything thrown in. The cast is full of known people, with Hayato Ichihara looking suitably half alive as Kageyama throughout and appearing-everywhere-now Kiyohiko Shibukawa expressing his full range of bemused faces.  

At his best, Miike's films are easily watchable over and over. His more recent films, while enjoyable on first viewing, are less repeatable, and so it will remain to be seen whether 'Yakuza Apocalypse' sits nicely alongside his extensive catalogue of experiments that, while varying in quality, always create curiosity. 

  

Right Now, Wrong Then (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Hong Sang-soo's 'Hill of Freedom' was my pick of last year's London Film Festival, as a short comedy about a Japanese man arriving in Seoul, searching for his loved one. Another year and another fish-out-of-water love story comes from Hong for 2015, in what has become quite a familiar pattern of drunken tales of love over alcohol.

To start, you may be confused that you got the film title wrong. The screen fills with 'Right Then, Wrong Now' as director Ham is stuck with little to do in a Suwon, visiting to introduce his film at the local film festival. Spying an attractive, young lady, he starts small talk with her, discovering she's an artist. Moving the conversation about banana milk along, the share a coffee before moving to her studio, out for sushi, ending at her friend's cafe for some further late night beverages. The story comes to an end half-way through, only for the screen to now fill with the film's actual title, 'Right Now, Wrong Then', and the story is played out all over again.

Now, I've never see 'Sliding Doors', and I've never thought about how different my life would be if I had seen it, much like the character's experience resulting from a missed Tube - largely because I know my life would be much the same had I seen 'Sliding Doors', apart from now writing this sentence. But that's sort of how this film pans out: how different would things have been if you'd taken a different approach. It's probably better, therefore, to compare it more to Kiyoshi Kurosawa's 'Serpent's Path/Eyes of the Spider'.

Here, Hong takes the same basic premise, the same characters, but takes a different direction, creating two stories out of one. The first half, 'Right Then...' shows the couple hit it off early doors, with romance developing between the two as the day goes on and the alcohol drowns. However, revelations when introducing her famous new 'friend' Ham to her group of friends make Hee-jeong suddenly feel cheated, with the evening coming to an abrupt end. The second part, 'Right Now...' sees a slow start between the couple, with honest and open comments coming from Ham about his wife and children and critique of her artwork. That out of the way, she has no expectations of him, though gradually she warms to him, with strong feelings developing by the end.

This, therefore, is the same film played out twice, arriving at a different conclusion. Some might say that this film is like Hong's whole career, with a slightly older male (a teacher, a director, etc.) falling for a slightly younger female (a student, novice artist, etc.), played out with a quirky gimmick and lots of long discussions over alcohol throughout, leading to many inebriated revelations. Indeed, you could say that 'Right Now, Wrong Then' has no gimmick, as all Hong's films are similar anyway - making the same characters and scenario simply more of the same, it's just this time he's been more obvious about it.

There is some truth in this, though this is probably something that could be pointed at most directors. While his films are of a similar theme, each has its own charm and level of enjoyment. Whether it's 'Hahaha's' still photos or 'Hill of Freedom's' lack of chronological letters, he adds a little post-modern twist of originality to each of his films, and serve as an example of how a different approach can create a different film.

There's more morality to 'Right Now, Wrong Then', with the humour more subtle than the broken English of 'Hill of Freedom'. In the first half, Ham isn't fully honest with Hee-jeong, or indeed himself, and the relationship develops, only for it to be abruptly ended on a hint of truth being revealed. The second half sees him more open from the start with Hee-jeong, and by the end, she is sad to see him leave, left with only the whimsy of what might have been (awwwwww), and a much happier conclusion for both.

With his style of film-making, with lots of dialogue over long takes, the actors need to have a good rapport and sense of believability within them, and here Jeong Jay-yeong and Kim Min-hee deliver enough of this. The first half sees them carefree and in good humour, while in the second they're more sombre and cold.

The similar scenario of both makes this obviously a little repetitive, and slightly over-long, compared to the shorter and snappier 'Hill of Freedom'. But with this, Hong has created a strong addition to his distinctive brand of cinema, getting it right in the end.

But, taking the moral high ground or not, either way Ham sleeps alone...

Son of Saul (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Hungary is not a country to globally famous for its modern cinema, though manages to scrape a film or two into the London Film Festival line-up, which I, of course, now have to go and see. This year, with its one fine, Hungary sees itself nominated for the Official Competition with the Cannes Grand Prix-winning 'Son of Saul'.

Now, I'm no expert on Hungarian cinema, or cinema from any nation to that matter, but the Hungarian cinema I've seen tends to focus more on the darker side of life, be it black comedy or World War II drama. With 'Son of Saul', László Nemes' debut feature, we see an intense drama set in a concentration camp in Auschwitz.

Saul is a Hungarian Sonderkommando in a camp, tasked with cleaning up the dead from the gas chambers. When a young boy is found choking when performing their duties, Saul witnesses German soldiers suffocate him. Saul then makes it his mission to give the boy a decent burial, hiding the boy's body while he seeks a rabbi, against the will of his fellow Sonderkommandos, whom plot their escape.

'Son of Saul', therefore is very much a film about an individual, as one man fights against an oppressive regime and his fellow prisoners, in an attempt to feel human again. With this the case, director Nemes chose to film almost from first person perspective, with the camera trained over Saul's shoulder or on his face throughout. Long takes with this cinematography create a very intense and personal experience, as the viewer experiences every step of Saul's journey.

In what is a difficult subject matter to tackle, Nemes uses a unique approach to create a very personal film, that the viewer feels every step of the way. It is a film that is cramped, uncomfortable and furious, dynamic and inventive in its approach in what is very good filmmaking from a debuting director.

  

My Love, Don't Cross That River (BFI 59th London Film Festival)

Last year at the London film Festival, my choice of the films I watched was South Korea's Hong Sang-soo's gentle comedy, 'Hill of Freedom'. I will also be taking in his latest work, 'Right Now, Wrong Then' at this year's festival, but before that, South Korea was represented by Jin Mo-young's documentary 'My Love, Don't Cross that River'.   

'My Love, Don't Cross that River' is a film of two halves. We start at the film's inevitable conclusion, but are quickly moved into the story of life-ling married couple, Jo Byeong-man and Kang Kye-yeol. Married for seventy-six years, the pair now spend their days in and around their home, playing with their dogs and frolicking like little children in love.

This documentary, without narration, watches them together as they go about their daily business, shopping, performing chores and having their many children and grandchildren visit. Director Jin Mo-young sets out to paint a picture of a couple very much in love, still after a whole lifetime together.

However, with Byeong-man now approaching one-hundred years-old it is clear that their seventy-six years of married life are drawing to a close. The documentary soon switches from a joyful tale of love to a distressing piece on mortality and how all good things must come to an end.

With his health deteriorating, Byeong-man can no longer perform his role as the man, confined to lying, coughing a spluttering, sharing final moments with his six surviving children. Kye-yeol, however, can only sit and watch, preparing herself for the inevitable, performing his last rites.

We start off in bright and joyful mode, with an easy to watch story about an ageing couple. By the end, we are left with everyone in tears, with the final forty minutes a struggle to sit through as we watch a dying man in his last moments, while his wife and family come to terms with it, as all good things must come to an end.

Without yang, there is no yin, without death, there is no life, without Byeong-man, there is no Kye-yeol. Jin's documentary has gone on to become the highest grossing independent film or documentary in Korean history, and it's not hard to see why. He lets the camera roll and the narrative come out naturally, in what could have easily become forced and lacking respect.

'My Love, Don't Cross that River' is, at times, uncomfortable viewing, but so is life, reminding us that with every up there must be a down.

Ryuzo and his Seven Henchmen (BFI 59th London Film Festival Part I)

I'm going all out over the next week or so. This year, I've selected eight, count them, films to see at this: the 59th BFI London Film Festival. Mixing in a lot of influences on my life, I shall be taking in films from Japan, Korea, Hungary, the Philippians (?) and a couple of hip hop documentaries from the US of States.  

I've gone from some surprising selections, not so much based on what I selected, but in what I didn't choose to see - with only so much time in such a short period, I can't see everything. So, the new works by some of my favourites, such as Kore-eda Hirokazu, Johnnie To and Jia Zhang-ke, as well as a documentary about the latter.

This year's festival features some returns from those that made popularised contemporary Japanese cinema in the West, with new films from Takeshi Kitano, Takashi Miike and the latest offering from 'Ringu' director Hideo Nakata. But, are these returns to form? Let's find out, ahhhhhh...

You couldn't put much wrong with Kitano's works in the Nineties: Some yakuza/police classics, with 'Sonatine' and 'Hana-bi' widely regarded as among some of the best Japanese films of the last three decades. There was the slightly out-of-place 'Scene at the Sea' and the delightfully awful 'Getting Any?', but generally, you knew you were getting some quality.

The last fifteen years, however, have been a less enjoyable ride. They started reasonably well with 'Brother', 'Dolls' and 'Zatoichi', but since then, there has been little to shout about. Over a decade has brought the ambitious, but confused 'Takeshis'; the enjoyable, but relatively ordinary 'Outrage' films; the okay 'Achilles and the Tortoise'; and the at times bizarre and boring 'Glory to the Filmmaker'. While fans in the West may have over-estimated their brilliance, blinded by love of his earlier works, these a hardly works by a master.

Kitano is a man that can wear many hats (not literally usually), and his films can take many forms. With his latest work, 'Ryuzo and his Seven Henchmen', Kitano is in comedy mode, telling the story of retired yakuza, Ryuzo, who reunites his old gang to start a new, ageing 'family' to claim back their old turf from the younger, more corporate group who are currently in control.

Naturally, a comedy about ageing yakuza is going to be of the slapstick variety - there is nothing serious to be considered here. What we have are eight bizarre characters, each with his own idiosyncrasies. Though this is not so much the case, with only around half of them actually getting much individual screen-time for character development, serving as little more than comic cameos. This isn't exactly 'Seven Samurai'.

Forming their new family, they set about taking on corporate organisations and Keihin United, led by the supposedly slick Nishi. But soon things go wrong, resulting in the sort of farcical ending you expect from a - I'm going to say it - knockabout comedy. Kitano himself makes a cameo as a similarly ageing policeman as 'Beat' Takeshi, and his brief appearance serves as a metaphor (a meta for what?!) or how much thought has gone into this one.

Now, taking my Radio 4 hat off and putting my 'movie-goer' one on, was I entertained? Kitano's last few films has suggested he isn't going to be making the artistic films of his Nineties peak. Is it silly, yes; is it stupid, yes. Is it funny, in parts; was I entertained, yes.

Like Ryuzo, Kitano is not a young man anymore, and his films will not have the edge and violence of his earlier works; this is a gentler age. There are some moments of nice film-making, with the scene where the old yakuza calculate their criminal points, sat around with a revolving camera capturing the moment in one take. But there is less of the artistry these days, with this a movie to be enjoyed rather than a film to be critiqued.

Maybe I am one of those Westerners that search for too much meaning in the films of the 'enigmatic Kitano': the Japanese TV personality or global auteur. 'Ryuzo and his Seven Henchmen' is entertaining enough, but I always found his most funny films to be those that aren't comedies.

Still, someone who hides in toilets to stick a knife up his enemies' bums is always good for a laugh...

The World of Kanako (58th BFI London Film Festival)

Tetsuya Nakashima is a director that pops up every couple of years with a film that can only be described as 'ruddy good.' I first saw 'Kamikaze Girls' and 'Memories of Matsuko' within about an hour of each other a few years back and enjoyed both. I then anticipated and enjoyed (as much as you can) 'Confessions' which soon followed. So after a few years off, Nakashima returns with 'The World of Kanako', and was I excited?!

Akikazu Fujishima is an absolute bastard. A real piece of the proverbial. Losing his job as a detective  due to his mental health, he soon gains alcoholism and a job as a security guard, but loses his wife and daughter. Living in his own filth, he suddenly receives a call from his estranged wife asking if he's seen their daughter. With a number of recent murders connected to his missing daughter, Akikazu soon becomes caught up in police investigations, frequent battles with his wife and gang violence. In true Hollywood-style, he decides to take the case of his missing daughter on himself, discovering the world of his daughter that he never knew, and maybe wishes he never did.

Starring Koji 'always in the big film' Yakusho as Mr Bastard, the film starts with Tarantino-esque retro titles, loud, brash and in your face. This sets the standard for two hours of intense, graphic and probably over-the-top cinema. 'The World of Kanako' is a good film, but you come away thinking that it could have been a bit simpler.

There are definite elements of the three previously mentioned Nakashima films all present here: The in-your-face, cartoonish styling of 'Kamikaze Girls'; the epic life story, enigmas and musical montages of 'Memories of Matsuko'; and the, at times, overly intense psychology of 'Confessions'. All are employed effectively here again, creating a extreme, dark and out-of-this-world experience for both the characters and viewers alike.

But, a little like Tarantino, things get a little indulgent here. Most obviously is the violence: blood splatters across pretty much every scene with teenage acne-like glee, with the make-up department working overtime in getting everyone's face suitably disfigured. Everyone hits everyone hard, with sound effects to match, and then they walk into the next scene for it all to happen again. While I don't mind a bit of violence on screen , when it's relentless it can become both a little boring and lacking impact.

The switching between past and present also gets a little overdone, though generally throughout is the film's strength in creating both mystery and builds as the film continues. Though by the end, the switching becomes too frequent, blurring the lines between the past and the present, with endless editing.

The films starts well, but starts to fall off as the end grows nearer. The violence becomes too much, cartoon-like in a film that creates an intense atmosphere. More and more characters come in towards the end, that maybe didn't need introducing. But disappointingly the intensity that is built throughout the film gets lost in this violence, seeing the viewer switch off and despite trying lacks the well rounded conclusion of 'Memories of Matsuko' and 'Confessions'. But Nakashima is a director that can certainly create an experience through cinema.

This year's BFI London Film Festival, the 58th incarnation, was record-breaking in its attendances. Six films seen from five countries, one of which I can describe as a 'ruddy belter.' The rest all promised, delivered to some extents, maybe fell short in others. With the likes of 'Tokyo Tribe', 'Free Fall' and 'The World of Kanako', films now are definitely trying to push boundaries of intensity, experimentation and taste, but as ever, it can be the simpler films that see the most creativity and often result in the best cinematic experience. 

Night Bus (58th BFI London Film Festival Part V)

'Night Bus' as a concept works: top marks for that. A random collection of discussions that take place one Friday night, connected only by the fact that all the participants are on the fictional N39 to Leytonstone. But, the longer the film goes on, the less the idea appeals to me, and by the end I was rather disappointed.

Writer-director Simon Baker makes his debut with 'Night Bus', a film that tries to show the diverse worlds  that all come together on a London night bus. This is, of course, the case: all warps of life can be on the bus after hours, and most are included here. I couple discuss an incredibly middle class night out, drunk City boys argue among themselves, youths play their mobile phones for all that don't want to hear, young couples venture home after a night out...you've been on a night bus and you've been annoyed by them all.

For observation, 'Night Bus' probably scores highly in drawing together the type of rubbish you hear on a night out. But billed as a comedy, this only provides titters rather than laughs; minor skirmishes rather than drama. 'Night Bus' lacks in some areas for me.

To start, the idea maybe isn't very original. The comment was made that it's a bit like watching an episode of 'The Chicken Shop' on Channel 4, or their more recent work of magic about a night club toilet in Crawley. Filming the various conversations in a forced situation has been done, many times, even on a bus if you include Spike Lee's 'Get on the Bus', and so you don't particularly feel that anything new is being done here.

There's a lack of any glue holding everything together here. One might say that the bus plays this role, but I wouldn't. The bus driver also fails to fill this void, not being directly connected to many of the main protagonists. It, therefore, just feels like a series of conversations, rather than, ironically, a journey. This could be ten hours or ten minutes, the conclusions reached would be the same.

The conclusion is also quite weak. The lone foreign girl who gets on the back of the bus, arguing on her phone with her boyfriend, suddenly pipes up in English, summing up Londoners in a monologue that offers little more than the theme tune to 'Auf Wiedersehen, Pet'.

There are some moments, some good bits of dialogue and some social comment, but 'Night Bus' could probably have been a fifteen minute short that you stumble across drunk when you switch Channel 4 on at 4AM after a night out. At which point you will have probably seen it all before.

Black Coal, Thin Ice (58th BFI London Film Festival Part IV)

'Black Coal, Thin Ice' is a bit slow in many senses. A film that spans a five year period, starting when a human arm is found among a coal delivery, prompting a murder investigation that takes a long time to be solved. This is all filmed at quite a slow pace as the story starts to develop over time.

Zhang is a detective, recently divorced, called to a factory when an arm is found in some coal. The investigation identifies the victim as the husband of a laundry worker, though the murder is left unsolved. Five years down the road, Zhang is now a drunk working as a security guard at a factory; his life and career now at a halt, he meets with his former partner, they discuss the old case, as well as two subsequent murders of the widowed laundry worker's lovers. Zhang pursues both the cases and the women that is connected to them, gradually becoming involved with her as he works to solve the murders, as well as his own life.

The film is quite understated, moving along at a slow pace, with some interesting camerawork, steady throughout. Twists comes towards the film's conclusion, though with a lack of tension or suspense really created, these are met with a muted response, lacking real build. The film also doesn't seem to know when exactly to end, continuing after the final revelations, ending with a scene that is both comprehensible and unusual.

Unlike the title would suggest, 'Black Coal, Thin Ice' is solid: decent performances, some interesting cinematography, with interesting enough a story. But, it never really goes beyond this, feeling very much a film for a slow Sunday afternoon, relaxing more than thrilling.