israel

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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Adam Resurrected

Adam Resurrected (2008, Director: Paul Schrader): Let me begin by saying I have a lot of respect for the work of Paul Schrader. Anyone who has been both a screen­writer and a critic before becoming a dir­ector is bound to have my respect. Which is why I felt so miser­able leaving the screening last night. Adam Resurrected is an out-and-out stinker, and I’m sorry to say it.

To be com­pletely honest, I was a bit nervous going in. Films that try to see the comedy (black or oth­er­wise) in the Holocaust have rarely fared well. Jerry Lewis shelved his film The Day The Clown Cried (1972) after crit­ical out­rage, and Roberto Benigni’s Life is Beautiful (1997), des­pite a rap­turous recep­tion here at TIFF (one I wit­nessed in person) fell out of favour pretty quickly as well. Schrader’s film dif­fers in that he presents the “clown” char­acter, Adam Stein (Jeff Goldblum) as insane. When we meet him, it’s 1961 and he’s being escorted back (after an unsuc­cessful dis­charge) to a “pro­gressive” asylum in the Israeli desert spe­cific­ally for sur­vivors of the camps. He’s clearly the star patient, enter­taining the other patients and even the staff with his quick wit, and car­rying on a love affair with a gor­geous nurse. The head doctor (Derek Jacobi) indulges him endlessly.

Through flash­backs, we dis­cover that he lost his wife and daugh­ters in a con­cen­tra­tion camp while he him­self was spared. The camp com­mandant (Willem Defoe) recog­nizes him from his nightclub act and decides to keep him as his pet. And I mean this quite lit­er­ally. He forces Adam to act as his dog, barking and walking around on all fours. Since he’s also a tal­ented musi­cian, he’s also used to soothe the inmates with violin music on their way to the gas chambers.

The plot becomes even more bizarre when a boy shows up at the asylum thinking he’s a dog. Adam gradu­ally reaches out to him, based on his own memories, and brings both the boy and him­self back to life (hence the portentous title). That’s the psy­cho­lo­gical resur­rec­tion, anyway. Physically, Adam appears to be invul­ner­able. He seems to be able to bleed at will, and to heal him­self of tumours. It’s no wonder that one of the inmates con­siders him the Messiah.

The film is based on a famous and rather con­tro­ver­sial Israeli novel by Yoram Kaniuk, pub­lished in 1971. Significantly, Schrader said the book came out in the same gen­eral era as Joseph Heller’s Catch-22 (1961) and Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five (1969), two other chal­lenges to the typ­ical depic­tion of war­time exper­i­ences. Famously, both of those novels were called unfil­mable, and the films made from them have never really been con­sidered successful.

Goldblum, as always, jumps in with both feet, but his strange accent and tend­ency to mutter left much of his dia­logue inde­cipher­able. Defoe and Jacobi are just wasted in paper-thin roles, and the film is fur­ther marred by an abund­ance of shaky hand­held cam­er­a­work. In the end, I just didn’t care about this strange char­acter, and I found myself rolling my eyes more than once at the ham­fisted metaphors.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Paul Schrader, actor Jeff Goldblum, screen­writer Noah Stollman and pro­ducer Ehud Bleiberg from after the screening:

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Duration: 15:56

4/10(4/10)

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Waltz with Bashir

Waltz with Bashir (2008, Director: Ari Folman): I think calling this an anim­ated doc­u­mentary might be stretching it a bit, but dir­ector Ari Folman has cre­ated some­thing really inter­esting. He’s used anim­a­tion to go where doc­u­mentary film­making hasn’t been able to take us before, into the memories, dreams and night­mares of its sub­jects. The film starts when Ari (looking uncan­nily like Italian film diarist Nanni Morretti) shares a drink with an old army buddy who describes his recur­ring night­mare of being chased by 28 dogs. After finding out that this relates to spe­cific incid­ents from the 1982 Lebanon war, we dis­cover that Ari Folman has little recol­lec­tion of his par­ti­cip­a­tion in that con­flict. But after this meeting, he begins having a strange recur­ring dream and after con­sulting a psy­cho­lo­gist friend, he decides he needs to try to figure out why his memory seems blocked.

As he inter­views other par­ti­cipants in the war, he begins to piece together his part in a larger nar­rative, that of Israeli com­pli­ance in the mas­sacre of thou­sands of Palestinian refugees in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps in Beirut. “Christian” Phalangist mili­tias entered the camps and mas­sacred men, women and chil­dren for three hor­rific days, killing more than 3,000. Despite the mili­tias’ stated aim of rooting out Palestinian fighters, the vast majority of these fighters had been evac­u­ated weeks before. The blood­bath was widely seen as revenge for the assas­sin­a­tion of the Phalangists’ leader, the recently-elected President Bashir Gemayel. Although Folman’s memory is never com­pletely reli­able, he seems to remember his army unit firing flares so that the mili­tias could carry out their work at night.

The most shocking moment of the film comes right at the end, when the anim­a­tion sud­denly snaps into real-life video footage of the carnage, leaving a dra­matic impres­sion. Despite the unre­li­ab­ility of memory, and the nature of guilt (both sur­vivor guilt and that of someone who killed other human beings) and its effect on the mind, this footage is evid­ence of a real atro­city, and Folman and his com­rades have had to live with their part in this tragedy for more than twenty years. It’s no wonder that he used anim­a­tion; it’s the per­fect way to recreate nightmares.

Unfortunately, the dir­ector flew home after the film’s opening screening and wasn’t present for a Q&A.

Official site of the film
Trailer

8/10(8/10)

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Entre Les Murs

Entre Les Murs (Director: Laurent Cantet): Winner of the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, this film was shot documentary-style in a real French classroom with non­pro­fes­sional actors. The teacher (François Bégaudeau) plays him­self in a screen­play he wrote based on his own novel, which fol­lows the life of a young teacher of the French lan­guage in a mul­ti­cul­tural classroom. I’ve read about the won­der­fully nat­ur­al­istic per­form­ances of the stu­dents, who col­lab­or­ated and rehearsed together well before shooting began.

Trailer (en fran­cais)
Official Site (en francais)

***

Waltz with Bashir

Waltz with Bashir (Director: Ari Folman): Animation can some­times be a good way to deal with dif­fi­cult sub­jects. In this case, it’s the memories (or rather, the lack of memories) of the dir­ector, an Israeli sol­dier who took part in the 1982 Lebanon war. In one of the war’s more grue­some atro­cities, the Israeli army stood by as “Christian” Phalangist mili­tias entered the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps and mas­sacred men, women and chil­dren for three hor­rific days. More than 3,000 were killed. Despite the mili­tias’ stated aim of rooting out Palestinian fighters, the vast majority of these fighters had been evac­u­ated weeks before. The blood­bath was widely seen as revenge for the assas­sin­a­tion of the Phalangists’ leader, the recently-elected President Bashir Gemayel. This sounds like a very per­sonal film, and also prom­ises to explore memory and issues of post-traumatic stress dis­order in an innov­ative way.

Trailer
Official Site

***

Brúðguminn (White Night Wedding)

Brúðguminn (White Night Wedding) (Director: Baltasar Kormákur): As a long­time fan of Icelandic cinema, I try to see as many of the country’s films as pos­sible, and after enjoying Kormákur’s Mýrin (Jar City) (review) at last year’s TIFF, I’m inter­ested in seeing this one, too. This looks like more of a comedy, and it’s appar­ently based on a Chekhov play. The scenery of rural Iceland looks spec­tac­ular, which means it will be a good warmup for my own visit to the country later in September for the Reykjavik International Film Festival.

Trailer
Official Site

***

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The Band's Visit (Bikur Ha-Tizmoret)

The Band’s Visit (Bikur Ha-Tizmoret) (Director: Eran Kolirin): This first fea­ture from the young Israeli dir­ector is a charming con­fec­tion that, as the dir­ector admits, has no basis in reality. In some unspe­cified recent past, the mem­bers of an Egyptian police band arrive at an air­port in Israel and, seeing nobody there to meet them, decide to pro­ceed on their own. Only they mis­take one town for another, and end up stranded in a lonely desert set­tle­ment. Dina, the earthy owner of the local café, comes to their rescue, finding them lodging for the night and taking a spe­cial shine to Tewfiq, the dis­tin­guished elder statesman who is the band’s leader. Most of the humour comes from the con­trast between the uni­formed and very polite band mem­bers and the bored and eccentric Israelis who aren’t quite sure how to react to their pres­ence. On one hand, these are Israel’s enemies and should be treated cau­tiously, but then again, not much hap­pens in their town and so this might be interesting.

The curi­osity of both groups over­comes any hes­it­ancy and soon three pair­ings have formed. Dina takes Tewfiq out for a meal and a drink, and Dina’s sen­su­ality briefly thaws out the older man. Young Khaled, the playboy of the band, goes out on the town with awk­ward virgin Papi, helping him over­come his shy­ness with a girl at a roller disco. And soulful com­poser Simon stays with troubled Itzik, whose mar­riage appears to be in ser­ious trouble. It’s mostly played for laughs, but there are sev­eral touching moments of con­nec­tion between the char­ac­ters. For me, the per­form­ance of Sasson Gabai as Tewfiq was mas­terful. Looking uncan­nily like Ben Kingsley, he brings dig­nity, sad­ness, and longing to the role. The other char­ac­ters are a little too broad most of the time, and the number of sight gags that involve the band lining up in their uni­forms becomes a bit repet­itive, but for a first fea­ture, Kolirin has done a won­derful job of making a small moment in time and space feel very special.

At the end of the film, when we finally hear the Alexandria Ceremonial Police Band play their beau­tiful music, we see that des­pite their uni­forms and impec­cable man­ners, these are pas­sionate men who are seeking love, or mourning its loss.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Eran Kolirin from after the screening:

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Duration: 6:07

7/10(7/10)

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