Rachel Getting Married

By the time recovering addict Kym's mother slaps her during a furious argument, I was wondering why noone had taken such obvious action earlier (Kym responds by decking her mother, so maybe that's why) Her first act upon arrival had been to have sex with the best man, followed by petulantly forcing her sister Rachel to change her maid of honour, and then delivering a typically self-absorbed speech at the wedding rehearsal dinner, totally deflacting the mood of joyous celebration. She will subsequently crash her father's car, which was precisely why he didn't want her to drive, and arrive at the wedding sporting a black eye. The tragic reason for her behavious ought to garner sympathy but it's always tantalizingly out of reach. Long-suffering Rachel finally cracks and vents her resentment about her high-maintenance sibling. Clearly - and thankfully - this is no schmaltzy wedding film. The filming might be handheld like a wedding video, and the nuptials might be accompanied by constant and varied music, but the undercurrent of melancholy ensures an air of unpredictability and a not-totally-happy ending.

Lemon Tree

By the end of Lemon Tree, Palestinian widow Salma's beloved lemon grove has been reduced to a shadow of it's former glory, while her neighbour the Israeli Defence Minister, now has an enormous wall for a view. Noone has won despite the protracted court battle and the co-option of the dispute for political point scoring. It's a telling allegory for the Palestinian-Israeli problem.
The Secret Service decide the grove is a danger to security, despite Salma's protestations that in 40 years no terrorist has attacked from there. She fights this decree not merely because of economic reasons (it's her only source of income apart from what her emigre son can send) but because it's inextricably associated with memories of her father. The law doesn't understand this emotional bond. As every Israeli says, she's been offered compensation (unusual in itself), so what's the problem? The Defence Minister even has the nerve to bemoan the uprooting of Palestinian olive groves elsewhere. The arrogance of the Israeli occupiers is reflected in both the letter in Hebrew sent to Salma (she doesn't speak or read the language), and in the banning of Salma from her own lemon grove (the Defence Minister doesn't hesitate to sent his staff into the grove to pick lemons when they are needed for a party)
Nor does Salma find much sympathy from her own community. She's first of all told there's nothing she can do to fight the order and then reminded that Palestinians don't accept compensation, in effect sentencing her to a life of poverty. Later pressure is exerted because of suspicions about her relationship with the young lawyer who accepts her case. It's no coincidence that Ziad has lived abroad as he's considerably more open-minded than his compatriots. However, as he says later, only American films have happy endings. Their relationship can never be accepted (he cannily becomes engaged to a Minister's daughter and one suspects will never see the daughter that he left behind in Moscow again) and the Israeli state can't be defeated in court. You do sense, though, that Salma has found an inner strength she didn't realize she possessed, while the put-upon Defence Minister's wife summons up the courage to leave him. Although the two women never talk, there's a tenuous bond between them centred on the dispute over the grove. In another place, they might actually get along quite well. The tragedy is that on the West Bank they don't stand a chance.

This Is War!

Actually, this is 3 exhibitions linked by the theme of war photojournalism: Robert Capa, Gerda Taro, and 4 modern responses to Afghanistan and Iraq. War photography is a strange genre. On the one hand, there's something inherently morbid (and possibly unethical) about photographing people suffering and dying in the midst of war. On the other, the power of the images can have a huge political and propaganda impact. The photos of Capa and Taro are a perfect example. Some of Capa's most famous photos are here - the Falling Soldier, the Omaha Beach landing - but especially interesting are the contact sheets showing the entire sequence of shots for certain events, and the D-Day and Leipzig pictures subjected to the censor's pen with key landmarks scribbled out, and the face of a soon-to-be-killed gunner blocked out. The images of the young soldier lying in an ever-expanding pool of blood are deeply poignant. Equally moving and shocking is the small Chinese boy lying dead between the chicken and piglet he failed to save from the Japanese gunfire. Nor is it just male photographers who produced such powerful images. Taro's photos of Valencia air raid victims lying in the morgue are as disturbing as anything on show either by Capa or the modern artists such as Geert van Kesteren, with his photos of post-Saddam Iraq. The grief and disbelief on the faces of the Iraqis digging up mass graves prove that war is anything but glorious.

Frost/Nixon

There's nothing wrong with Frost/Nixon but I refuse to believe that it (or The Reader for that matter) is more deserving of a place on the Oscar shortlist than The Dark Knight, and especially that Ron Howard's direction is more impressive than Christopher Nolan's. It's that time of the year when the word "worthy" springs to mind as yet another awards contender is released. Despite impressive impersonations of the two protagonists, I actually wanted to see more of those consummate scene stealers Oliver Platt and Sam Rockwell. They possessed an energy lacking elsewhere. I kept hoping that one or both would really shout at the self-obsessed Frost to goad him into action. The film itself is solid, well-made, well-acted and it passes a couple of hours, but it left me totally unmoved.

Ano Una

Two thirds of the way through Ano una, a soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend tells Molly that the reason her photographs are no good is because she always tries to capture the perfect moment - which doesn't exist. Ano una itself is constructed from a series of photographs, some of which are slightly out of focus, or oddly framed or otherwise not "perfect". However, edited together they transform into a narrative. Even without the soundtrack, a viewer would be able to construct a story to accompany the images, though not necessarily the same one as the director (it would be minus the whining self-obsessed voice of Molly though, which would be a blessing) With the dialogue and interior thoughts, a simple story of cross-cultural (mis)understanding emerges. Horny Mexican teenager Diego is convinced that he can seduce the older American language student Molly. She meanwhile endlessly frets over her appalling boyfriends, familial tension, whether she's giving offence to her hosts or going to get food poisoning from the foreign food, and that she never manages to take any photos. The relationship never gets off the ground but that's not really the point. The fact that the pictures don't actually move is soon forgotten, and emphasises just how important sound is to the film-going experience.

The Reader

Oh, the irony. If you've seen the relevant episode of Extras, you'll have a silent chuckle at the awards buzz surrounding Kate Winslet's performance. It may also keep popping into your head at inappropriate moments (probably during the loving closeups of the ageing makeup during the second half of the film - there's a gloriously gratuitous shot of "elderly" feet) Far more telling is the hard line which is the default setting of Hanna's mouth. It suggests bitterness, an inherent coldness (possibly a self-defence mechanism) and even cruelty (especially in the light of her backstory) The facial expressions and body language are far more important than much of the dialogue. I don't think you ever warm to the character, even before you know her involvement in the Holocaust. Hanna never seems to understand that she's done anything wrong, so there's no real redemption. Learning to read hardly compensates for being responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people. This is the big stumbling block to becoming truly involved in the film.

Che Part 1

Don't expect any great psychological insight about the eponymous hero, nor much useful information about the Cuban Revolution itself. By the end of the film we're not much wiser about Che and his motives than we were at the beginning. I did however learn that he suffered from asthma which suggests an incredibly dogged determination as he endlessly tramped up and down and across the country. That's about as far as it goes though. The film also suffers from too many characters who look far too similar (it's all the facial hair) and who are on screen for too short a time to make much of an impression. There's also a clunky structure, split between the events leading to the Battle of Santa Clara and Che's time in New York (helpfully filmed in black and white for those with ADD) to speak at the UN. I'd rather have had a bit more time spent on character. Oh, and a couple less scenes which basically boil down to Fidel saying to Che "I want you to ..." It's only really during the final battle that it becomes genuinely interesting. The guerrillas knocking holes through five walls to reach the army in a bell tower was quite possibly the best sequence in the entire film. Maybe when the second part appears it will all come into focus, though I'm not holding my breath.