crime

Calvet

Calvet (Director: Dominic Allan): The story that Jean-Marc Calvet tells in this essen­tially one-man show is so unbe­liev­able that you might find your­self not believing it. But dir­ector Allan, who doesn’t appear in the film, was on hand to assure the audi­ence that he has done his research, and it all checks out. Here is yet another case where the truth is stranger than fiction.

Calvet today is a renowned painter who lives in Nicaragua and sells his work in New York gal­leries. But less than a decade ago, he’d never picked up a paint­brush. Worse, he was a man on such a path of self-destruction that nobody seemed able to divert him.

Sure, he’d been a troubled teen­ager growing up in the south of France, strug­gling with drug addic­tion and sexual abuse, but then he entered the Foreign Legion and traveled the world. He met a nice woman, got her preg­nant, and became a cop. But even after his son Kevin was born, Calvet con­tinued to dabble with the dark side. His drinking and drug problem never really went away, and he got into rack­et­eering. He went on to work in private security, and even served as a body­guard for American stars like Mel Gibson, Forest Whittaker and Tim Robbins who were vis­iting the Cannes Film Festival.

Through con­nec­tions, he began working as a body­guard for a shady American who offered him a huge salary to come back to the States with him. But he’d have to cut off all ties, leaving his wife and young son behind. Taking a chance, Calvet moved to Miami to become the man’s trusted pro­tector, but the arrange­ment soured when he real­ized he wasn’t get­ting the prom­ised money. By this time he’d real­ized that he was working for a mob­ster, and the man was so para­noid that he had all his bank accounts in Calvet’s name. It was only a matter of time before Calvet began to look for an oppor­tunity to get paid. When the time came, he absconded with more than half a mil­lion dol­lars and found his way to Central America.

In Costa Rica, Calvet bought him­self a house and a nightclub, but became too para­lyzed by his fear to live the high life for long. It’s here where his addic­tions nearly took him, and his para­noia mixed with his tre­mendous guilt over abandoning his child. Punishing him­self with larger and larger doses of drugs and booze, he began to hear voices and see vis­ions. Almost in a trance, he dis­covered paint cans under his stair­case and after plunging his fists into them, began to smear the walls of his house. In this way, he dis­covered painting.

Years later, clean and sober and using his art as therapy, he resolves to find Kevin and hope­fully to recon­cile. While the first part of the film fea­tures Calvet remem­bering his past, the last half is unwritten as the film­maker travels with him in search of his lost boy. It’s clear how important this is to him, and also how nervous he is about the outcome.

The res­ulting film is by turns har­rowing, grip­ping, and moving. Through art and sheer force of will, Calvet is able to des­troy the dark parts of his per­son­ality and redis­cover the lost boy in him­self. Only then does he feel worthy enough to search for Kevin. Director Allan knows when to stay out of the way, although his visual and sonic touches do add con­sid­er­ably to the telling of the tale. And what a tale it is.

Official site of the film

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Life With Murder

Life With Murder (Director: John Kastner): 20-year-old Mason Jenkins murdered his 18-year-old sister with mul­tiple shotgun blasts to the head on January 6, 1998. The crime occurred in the home he resided in with his only sib­ling and par­ents, in the small town of Chatham, Ontario, and Mason was con­victed of first-degree-murder after his shaky alibi was deemed not cred­ible. Mason main­tained his inno­cence until 2007, when he finally relented and provided a strange, irra­tional reason for having shot his sister, with whom he’d appar­ently always been close. Despite the hell their son put them through, the par­ents, Leslie and Brian, still choose to keep him in their lives, making reg­ular visits to Mason at Warkworth Institution, a medium-security cor­rec­tional facility.

Director/writer/producer John Kastner, a three-time Emmy winner, has a ver­it­able gold­mine of bizarre, intriguing details to work with in Life With Murder, with a fairly equal bal­ance given to both a dis­sec­tion of the crime, and its con­sequences and after­math. Neither side is easy to watch, espe­cially the latter. Kastner presents a thor­ough probing of the case, having gained access to police inter­rog­a­tion videos, the 911 call, crime scene doc­u­ment­a­tion, and inter­views with detect­ives from the case. The inter­rog­a­tion videos are quite fas­cin­ating to watch, but the inter­views with the grieving par­ents, some from just mere hours after the murder occurred, are dis­turbing and uncom­fort­able viewing. The fact that the mother her­self made repeated requests to the Chatham police to release the tapes for inclu­sion in the film doesn’t make the exper­i­ence of watching them feel any less invasive or wrong.

Credit Kastner with dig­ging deep to uncover pre­vi­ously unheard details about the case, including an explor­a­tion of Mason’s belated con­fes­sion, not to men­tion a blind­siding bomb­shell about the crime that ratchets up the creep factor by sev­eral notches. Despite the rich ingredi­ents with which it has to work, Kastner’s movie left me feeling unful­filled and empty, like it should have had much more of an impact. Leslie’s state­ment that “you don’t throw a kid away” and the uncon­di­tional love she and Brian have for Mason, even after what he did (and espe­cially after that bomb­shell, which I won’t spoil) just seem totally at odds with logic and reason, and only added to my frus­tra­tion with the movie. Another mys­tery: the par­ents never moved out of the home where the murder took place. The film also ends up playing as some­thing less cine­matic and more suited to tele­vi­sion, like an extended ver­sion of the CBC’s “The Fifth Estate” (which isn’t a knock on that pro­gram, as they do a lot of excel­lent work).

Official site of the film

5/10(5/10)

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Thieves By Law

Thieves By Law (Director: Alexander Gentelev): I’ve been reading Misha Glenny’s excel­lent survey of the world of organ­ized crime, McMafia: A Journey Through the Global Underworld, so the sub­ject of this film inter­ested me. An exposé of the inner work­ings of the Russian “mafia” as told by three allegedly “former” gang­sters, Thieves By Law wasn’t quite as shocking as it might be to someone com­pletely unfa­miliar with this world, but the level of access gained by dir­ector Gentelev is impressive.

We’re first intro­duced to Leonid “Macintosh” Bilunov, living in a man­sion in the south of France. He’s cul­tured and rather charming, even as he recounts his own violent prison stories. Alimzhan Tokhtakhounov, nick­named Taiwanchik (“the Taiwanese”) is an Uzbek who was charged in the scandal sur­rounding the 2002 Olympic figure skating com­pet­i­tion. It was Tokhtakhounov who was alleged to have bribed the French judge to score the Russian skaters higher than the Canadians. Most fear­some of all is Vitaly Dyemochka (“Bondar”), a cold-eyed gang leader who has spent nearly half his life in prison. Despite their will­ing­ness to talk, one gets the dis­tinct impres­sion that they have done many more bad things than they’ll admit to.

What they do reveal is just how quickly the under­world rose to power as the Soviet state appar­atus was col­lapsing in the late 1980s. The vacuum in polit­ical and eco­nomic power was quickly filled by the crim­inal gangs, who had never played by Soviet rules. Instead, their “Thieves’ Code” had flour­ished since Stalin’s time, allowing them to vir­tu­ally con­trol the prisons in which they were held. In the lean Soviet years, this code seemed almost ascetic. No wives or chil­dren allowed, no registered addresses, no working within society, no betraying other crim­inals. When these gangs were turned loose upon a newly “free” Russia, though, their code quickly broke down. Each group began run­ning extor­tion and pro­tec­tion rackets, tar­geting the thou­sands of new busi­nesses that sprung up overnight. Many of Russia’s richest men suc­ceeded by grabbing state assets cheaply, and the gangs latched on like para­sites. This is where the concept of the krisha (“roof”) was estab­lished. A crim­inal organ­iz­a­tion would “offer” their ser­vices as a krisha to pro­tect the busi­ness from other crim­inals (and often the police) for a price. The police at this time became just as cor­rupt, with the addi­tional power that went with the threat of legal action against the businesses.

The long rot of the Soviet state meant that in the public’s eyes, crim­inals had a better repu­ta­tion than the police anyway, so it wasn’t dif­fi­cult for the crim­inal gangs to operate and recruit. While the Thieves’ Code was in effect, gangs would often meet up to arbit­rate dis­putes in an almost gen­tle­manly fashion, but from 1994–2000, a brutal civil war took place among the gangs, who were each fighting for supremacy. This feeding frenzy essen­tially left the Code in tat­ters, as greed took over.

As the gangs them­selves grew richer and more business-savvy, they wanted to get into busi­ness them­selves, so they often demanded part­ner­ships with the busi­nessmen they were pre­vi­ously extorting. In this way, our prot­ag­on­ists ostens­ibly went legit, although there were never really any clean hands in the Russian busi­ness world. They also needed places to launder their new­found wealth, so many took advantage of Israel’s gen­erous immig­ra­tion policies and lack of fin­an­cial reg­u­la­tions. If a gang­ster wasn’t Jewish, he would simply marry a Jewish woman in order to gain an Israeli pass­port. In this period, the gangs stopped killing each other and started killing more busi­nessmen, in order to take over their enter­prises. With crim­inal organ­iz­a­tions now in con­trol of many legal busi­nesses in Russia (among them con­struc­tion, banking and real estate), it’s dif­fi­cult to tell the good guys from the bad. And glob­al­iz­a­tion has allowed these guys to extend their reach right around the world, which Glenny’s book recounts in agon­izing detail.

Although Thieves By Law is tre­mend­ously inform­ative, and the char­ac­ters are suit­ably chilling, it’s shot very much in a tele­vi­sion doc­u­mentary style. It packs a lot of inform­a­tion into its run­ning time, but it’s not par­tic­u­larly filmic. In an ironic twist, the cold-eyed Vitaly now spends his time writing and dir­ecting gang­ster films in Russia. He admon­ishes his actors by telling them, “this isn’t just a story, this really happened!” Maybe Gentelev should have brought him aboard to film some “re-enactments.”

7/10(7/10)

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Un prophète

by James McNally on November 23, 2009 · 1 comment

in Film Festivals

Un prophète

Un prophète (Director: Jacques Audiard): Essentially a coming-of-age story set in a violent and cor­rupt prison, Un prophète sprawls over 150 minutes and yet doesn’t really let you get to know prot­ag­onist Malik all that deeply. When we first meet him, he’s an illit­erate and anti-social teen­ager, entering prison to begin a six-year sen­tence. Although of North African des­cent, he’s not a reli­gious Muslim, and so doesn’t fall in with the prison’s Muslim gang. Instead, he’s taken under the wing of the Corsicans, under the lead­er­ship of Cesar Luciani, after being forced into com­mit­ting the grue­some murder of an informant.

As time goes by, he learns to read and write, and is given more respons­ib­ility within the Corsican gang. He also secretly begins studying the Corsican lan­guage in order to know what’s being said behind his back. After a number of the Corsicans are trans­ferred to prisons closer to home, Malik finds him­self becoming Cesar’s trusted lieu­tenant. Even so, Cesar and the other Corsicans berate him as a “dirty Arab” and the Muslims con­sider him a Corsican. Gradually he is able to form rela­tion­ships with the Muslims, too, and he makes a good friend in Ryed, who is soon released.

Once Ryed is on the out­side, the two team up to estab­lish a drug smug­gling oper­a­tion to get drugs into the prison. He does this without informing Cesar, for whom he con­tinues to do errands. When Malik’s nearing parole, he is able to obtain “leave” days and so begins run­ning more dan­gerous errands for Cesar as well as meeting with Ryed. Without giving away any more plot, I can tell you that by the end of the film, the stu­dent has sur­passed his master, and young Tahar Rahim does a great job of showing Malik’s trans­form­a­tion over a period of sev­eral years. He is able to convey a child­like sense of wonder when Malik exper­i­ences things for the first time, like flying in a plane or walking on a beach. And the film is slickly dir­ected, por­traying the viol­ence and para­noia of prison life in gritty detail. There are even some arty flour­ishes: the man Malik kills at the begin­ning of the film returns to haunt him in his cell, another scene which gives the film its title, and the numerous titles that appear on screen, announ­cing a character’s name or a chapter theme.

But as I said at the begin­ning, I still felt the film lacked a beating heart. Malik’s trans­form­a­tion is from petty crim­inal to crime boss, a matter of learning skills and building rela­tion­ships. Any inner change is barely hinted at, and we don’t know any­thing about how he feels about the mor­ality of what he does. The film is pretty fatal­istic, and Malik’s ascent doesn’t dis­guise his lack of choices. I would have liked to see his char­acter struggle a bit more with his con­science, though.

8/10(8/10)

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Bottle Rocket

by James McNally on December 4, 2008

in DVD

Bottle Rocket

Bottle Rocket (Director: Wes Anderson): I’ve seen Wes Anderson’s fea­ture debut three or maybe four times by now, but it’s a film I enjoy more and more with each viewing. My first exposure to Anderson was seeing Rushmore at the 1998 Toronto International Film Festival and it just knocked me out. When I sought out Bottle Rocket a few months later, I was under­whelmed. It was much more subtle than Rushmore, from the char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion to the art dir­ec­tion, but over the years my estim­a­tion of the film has risen con­sid­er­ably. Criterion’s recent release of the film on DVD gave me another oppor­tunity to eval­uate it, and it was great to see all of the Wes Anderson touches there, even at the begin­ning. Critics of Anderson’s work often point out that he hasn’t really changed much as a dir­ector, and that even with bigger budgets and larger canvases with which to work, he still ends up telling the same stories. Even as a huge fan of his work, I’d have to say that there’s a lot of truth in that cri­ti­cism, espe­cially after watching Bottle Rocket again.

The film begins with Anthony (Luke Wilson) being released from a mental hos­pital where he’d been treated for “exhaus­tion.” His friend Dignan (Owen Wilson) has come to “break him out,” not real­izing that the hos­pital is vol­un­tary, and that Anthony can leave any­time he wants. In the first of many examples, Anthony plays along with the ruse to make his friend feel better. Dignan is a hyper­active guy with big plans. Although he was fired from his land­scaping job with local entre­preneur and small­time hood Mr. Henry (James Caan), he’s eager to impress him and get his old job back. He recruits Anthony into his “gang” along with their rich friend Bob (Robert Musgrave), the only one who owns a car. The plan is to pull off a daring heist to impress Mr. Henry, thus gaining them entry into his crim­inal circle (which is fronted by his land­scaping busi­ness, the Lawn Wranglers).

Their metic­u­lously planned rob­bery, of a book­store(!), goes well enough, but their plan calls for them to go “on the lam” so they drive out to the middle of nowhere to hide out in a motel. This middle sec­tion of the film is par­tic­u­larly charming, as Anthony falls com­pletely head over heels for Inez, a Paraguayan house­keeper at the motel, in spite of the fact that she speaks no English and he can’t speak Spanish. Anthony seems so des­perate to make a con­nec­tion out­side of his social class that this should feel creepy, but thanks to Luke Wilson’s win­ning per­form­ance, it actu­ally man­ages to feel romantic. A family situ­ation res­ults in Bob taking off in the middle of the night with his car, leading to one of the film’s most mem­or­able lines, from Dignan: “Bob’s gone. He stole his car!” The now-carless gang (Anthony and Dignan) try to keep their flight from the law going, but it soon turns sour and they end up returning home sep­ar­ately. Weeks go by, until Dignan turns up to invite Anthony (and more reluct­antly, Bob) into a big score with Mr. Henry’s gang.

I won’t say any­more but I was delighted to dis­cover that the film seems just as fresh as it did the first time I saw it, almost ten years ago now. I love Anderson’s by now trade­mark use of single-minded and eccentric prot­ag­on­ists, as well as his tend­ency to por­tray multi-cultural and multi-generational friend­ships. It’s a joy to see the debut of Owen Wilson, playing one of the more mem­or­able char­ac­ters in recent American cinema, and to see him acting with both of his brothers (older brother Andrew plays Bob’s bul­lying older brother, whom they oddly call “Future Man”.) The film has that feeling of being made by a small group of friends, or in this case, a family.

The only thing I was left won­dering was what happened to Robert Musgrave, whose per­form­ance as Bob was excel­lent. In the “making of” included on the DVD, he appears wistful as he revisits some of the loc­a­tions, some now torn down. I wonder if he ever feels like he was the only one left behind as the other players went on to for­tune and fame, while his career has con­sisted of playing bit parts. Speaking of the “making of”, it was filmed in Spring 2008 and Luke Wilson doesn’t look good at all. Overweight and tired-looking, he really doesn’t come across as the man whom pro­ducer James L. Brooks insisted had to “deliver the romance.” I sin­cerely hope he’s okay.

Other treas­ures on this 2-disc set I’ve yet to explore include a com­mentary track with Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson, who wrote the film together, and the ori­ginal 13-minute black and white short, made in 1992, on which the fea­ture was based.

Note: This film always reminds me of another indie film that came out around the same time about a group of hap­less wan­nabe crooks. Palookaville (1995), dir­ected by Alan Taylor, and star­ring Vincent Gallo, William Forsythe and Adam Trese was another enjoy­able and eccentric film about a gang of lov­able losers who really weren’t cut out for the crim­inal life­style. I always wonder about the timing of these two films, and why dir­ector Alan Taylor never went on to any measure of cine­matic suc­cess (though he has had a lot of suc­cess as a tele­vi­sion dir­ector, win­ning an Emmy and working on acclaimed shows such as Mad Men, Lost, The Sopranos and Sex and the City). It’s a good little film and is under­ap­pre­ci­ated, I think. Try Bottle Rocket and Palookaville as a double fea­ture sometime.

Buy Bottle Rocket from Amazon.com

9/10(9/10)

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