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Friday

Halas And Batchelor's Animal Farm At 60


When the CIA wanted to make an animated version of George Orwell's Animal Farm, they went to a small animation firm in London called Halas and Batchelor. The film turned 60 this month and is as relevant as it was on the day it opened.




Monday

Nadav Schirman: The Green Prince

Israeli director Nadav Schirman discusses his award-wining documentary, The Green Prince

Any hope that Israelis and Palestinians will ever be able to live in peace feels precariously close to being snuffed out by the current wave of violence in Jerusalem. But before everyone gives up in despair, a compelling new documentary, The Green Prince, shows that sworn enemies from opposite sides of the conflict can not only become allies, but close friends.

The film has captured the Israeli imagination. When its protagonists, Mosab Hassan Yousef - the eldest son of Sheikh Hassan Yousef, a founding leader of Hamas - who became a spy for Israel's security agency, Shin Bet, and Gonen Ben Yitzhak, his former handler, walked nervously out on stage following the film's first screening in Tel Aviv, the audience, including representatives from Mossad, Shin Bet, and the media, gave them an eight-minute standing ovation.

This never happens in Israel,” says the film's Jerusalem-born director, Nadav Schirman. “The people getting standing ovations is like Zubin Mehta and the Philarmonic Orchestra. Movies don't get them. Israelis are very cynical. But they were applauding Mosab and Gonen. They were applauding the relationship.”

Informed by Schirman's fascination with identity, The Green Prince revolves around intense and searching direct-to-camera interviews in which Mosab and Gonen candidly describe how the bond they developed in their fight against terrorism put them at odds with their respective worlds.

Mosab, who appeared on TV condemning Hamas during the recent Gaza conflict, told his story in the memoir, Son of Hamas, following a move to the United States. Schirman says The Green Prince, named after the Palestinian's Shin Bet codename, is very different.

The book was his point of view. This is about the relationship between him and Gonen. I'm not a journalist. It's not about facts and the interpretation of facts. It's about emotions and storytelling.” He needed to know, then, that the men “would allow me to lead them into the darkest corners of their own narrative.”

His first rendezvous with Mosab, in the lobby of a New York hotel, coincided with the announcement that Osama Bin Laden had been killed. Right away, Mosab told Schirman they should visit Ground Zero.

Literally within the first few minutes of meeting the son of a Hamas leader, we were in a taxi going down town to Ground Zero. There were thousands of young Americans screaming, 'America! America!', as if they'd won the World Cup. I remember watching Mosab and he was really trying to partake in this celebration. It was fascinating, because years earlier he would have cheered for the other side.”

During the first Gulf War, in fact, Mosab had stood on a roof-top in Ramallah doing just that as Scud missiles flew towards Tel Aviv. And when the first intifada erupted, he'd hero-worshipped the “masked men” of Hamas who set out to spill Israeli blood. “Mosab wanted to be one of them but he wasn't allowed, ironically, because of his father's position,” says Schirman.

Hate and anger were part of the environment, and Hamas used them “as a political tool”.

At 17, Mosab was arrested for smuggling guns. After extensive interrogation, he agreed to work for the Shin Bet. He still wanted to kill an Israeli, and secretly plotted to murder Gonen. But after spending time in prison as a ruse to get him closer to Hamas' leaders, and seeing the brutal way that the group dealt with suspected collaborators in its ranks, the Palestinan's moral compass started to shift.

Schirman recalls that Mosab had also been shocked by the way that the organisation used civilian children as shields during the second intifada. “He talked to me about violent demonstrations that he would go to where they put children in the first row to go against tanks, because the leaders knew it was good for the media.” They even used slogans about building “our pride on the blood of our children”.

Still, they weren't as bad as Shin Bet, or so people claimed. “The word on the street in Palestinian society,” says Schirman, “is that they're going to force you to have sex with your sister and mother, and make a video tape and bring them back the video tape so that they can force you to do things for them.” Instead, Mosab found in Gonen someone who encouraged him to pursue his education, pray, and be a good son.

He explained that in the process of changing sides, he “chose to be with people who favour life rather than death,” says Schirman. “In his environment you had to die, be a martyr, whereas the Shin Bet very much wanted him to be alive. Obviously for their own aims, but there was a deeper philosophical sense with this, too.”

Mosab became his father's closest aide and gatekeeper, secretly passing intercepted communications between him and other Hamas leaders to the Shin Bet. He helped thwart terrorist attacks, and saved Israeli and Palestinian lives. His father regarded him as a traitor when he learned the truth. In a story that's riddled with irony, however, he would have been assassinated if Mosab hadn't been working for Israel.

Today, they are separated by geography, religion and ideology. Hassan publicly denounced Mosab for his betrayal, but he had no choice, claims Schirman. “Had his father endorsed him, the whole family would have been killed. When Hassan tried to make peace with the Israelis when Mosab was still there, he was shot at in a drive-by shooting in Ramallah. So they don't joke.”

Mosab's love for his family, and his sadness at losing them, is palpable in The Green Prince. His experiences with the Shin Bet, however, have expanded his horizons beyond the “very fundamental, very religious environment” in which he was raised, creating a wide divide.

He learned about democracy, he taught himself about different religions, he became a Christian, but in a spiritual way not in a religious way, he learned about Judaism. He took off the blinds, in a way,” says Schirman, “whereas he knows that his family is very much stuck in that world with the blinds on. That is very frustrating for him and I think he believes that only when they are able to take off the blinds and think freely, will they be able to connect again.”

And therein, at least in part, perhaps, lies the secret of a future peace. Most encouraging, though, is the deep and lasting bond of trust that developed between Mosab and Gonen. The latter lost his job over breaking protocols for his charge, and risked being accused of treason, Schirman claims, when he went public with his story for the first time in The Green Prince: a film, ultimately, about humanity triumphing over the seemingly insurmountable differences fuelling the Middle East conflict.

When an Israeli meets a Palestinian one on one, it's all good,” says the director. “They share the same sense of humour. They like the same food. They're very close. I believe in people and I believe that things are going to work out, somehow. I know that there's nothing on the horizon to indicate this right now, but I think it's going to work out.”


The Green Prince is on general release

© Stephen Applebaum, 2015

Saturday

On The Bride's Side - The National

Smuggling Syrians out of Italy: a fake wedding, a political act and also a documentary film

After highlighting the issue of illegal migration from parts of the Middle East at the 71st Venice Film Festival, the brave and poignant documentary On the Bride’s Side will this week return to the city where it was conceived when it screens at the Milan Film Festival. 

A fusion of journalism and activism, the crowdfunded film focuses on the plight of Syrians and Palestinians fleeing the conflict in Syria. With their passports worthless in European embassies, many pay smugglers to take them across the Mediterranean in makeshift boats. If they survive the voyage and reach Milan, they have no choice but to turn to other smugglers to continue their journeys.

“Last year, 11,000 Syrians arrived in Italy,” says the Italian filmmaker Gabriele Del Grande, a journalist and creator of the migration-watch blog Fortress Europe. “This year, until now, it’s maybe double.”

In September 2013, Del Grande was working in Syria as a freelance reporter. Soon after coming home, two vessels carrying migrants from Libya sank off the Italian island of Lampedusa, killing dozens.

Suddenly, “hundreds of Syrians arrived in Milan,” says Del Grande. “There were no reception centres. All the people were living on the street and in the central station.”

Del Grande and a friend, Khaled Soliman Al Nassiry, a Palestinian-Syrian poet, went to see what was happening and were approached by Abdullah, a young survivor.

“We were talking in Arabic and he came and asked us if we knew the platform for the train to Sweden,” says Del Grande. “I said: ‘My friend, there’s no train to Sweden. Sorry. But come with us and we’ll drink a coffee.’”

Del Grande introduced Al Nassiry to a Milanese filmmaker friend, Antonio Augugliaro, and the three of them decided to help Abdullah get out of Italy and find asylum.

“One night we were eating and drinking,” says Del Grande, “and I said: ‘Why don’t we do a [fake] wedding? The police are never going to stop a wedding.’”

They would be breaking the law and risking their own liberty. Nonetheless, he says: “We felt we were doing the right thing.

“Of course, we were afraid. We’re not heroes. Also, we’re not expert smugglers. So we were really, really afraid.”

Del Grande felt, however, that he owed a debt to the people who had helped him in Syria.

“When I went last time, I was travelling with civilian activists,” he says. “I didn’t have the protection of the Free Syrian Army or a fixer. It’s thanks to those people that I am still alive – young people like me. Activists. So then the day comes when you have to help somebody else.”

In just two weeks, the three men planned the entire journey and found four more Syrians to join Abdullah in seeking political asylum. The wedding party was rounded out with like-minded activists. The part of the bride was played by a German-passport bearing Syrian-Palestinian who had fled from Yarmouk.

“We wanted to help Abdullah because he’s our friend,” says Del Grande. “But we also wanted it to be a political act, not only a film.”

The group left Milan on November 14, unsure whether they’d be arrested before reaching Stockholm. For reasons of art and historical continuity, they completed the first part of the journey on foot, following a mountain path into France that was once used by Italians escaping fascism.

All five of the migrants eventually received political asylum. But the filmmakers are now waiting to see whether they will be charged and put on trial for assisting in irregular migration, a crime that carries a prison sentence of up to 15 years in Italy. If this happens, Del Grande says they will use the process to highlight the migration issue.

“Who is wrong? What we did or the laws?” he asks. “Who is responsible for all that death in the sea? Is it the storm or the law?

“If you ask my opinion, I am for the freedom of movement of everybody. You don’t need to come from the war – but it’s even stronger if you do.

Read more: http://www.thenational.ae/arts-lifestyle/film/smuggling-syrians-out-of-italy-a-fake-wedding-a-political-act-and-also-a-documentary-film#ixzz3L9zd787u
Follow us: @TheNationalUAE on Twitter | thenational.ae on Facebook

Monday

Mockingjay - Part 1 Story: The West Australian











Reviews of The Wicker Man: Conversations With Robin Hardy, Anthony Shaffer & Edward Woodward



Reviews for my ebook about the making of the classic British horror film, The Wicker Man, in the words of its director, writer and star.
 

5.0 out of 5 stars The Wicker Man from Another Angle 29 Mar 2014
Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
Great to read something new about a film when so much has already been written. Very frank interviews with the principals.
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4.0 out of 5 stars Wicker Man: Conversations. - Reviewed. 6 July 2013
Format:Kindle Edition
Impact Magazine review of The Wicker Man: Conversations:

The Wicker Man remains one of British cinema's seminal horror outings. Not for this legendary British Lion production, the camper vampiric nature of the more stereotypical output from more familiar counterpoint Hammer, though there's certainly a dark and surreal undercurrent to the tale of mystery, suspense and fundamental clash of religions. It may be a film of its time (especially taking into consideration the ill-advised, much-mocked remake starring Nic Cage several decades later) but with the drama behind the camera being almost equal to that in front of it and much controversy that followed its post-production, there's no denying it still holds an intriguing place in the hearts of many film critics and horror enthusiasts.

Stephen Applebaum's examination of the film doesn't so much set out to unravel the many contradictions, controversies and legends that surround the film, as simply go to some of the key movers and shakers and ask them for their version and opinions. He collects together past interviews he has done and brings them together in one place, printed in full for the first time then leaves the reader to decide on the individual and collected opinions themselves. Though a fuller, longer and more nuanced book might ultimately be more satisfying for the die-hard Wicker enthusiast, the author's work allows key insights into what the key participants were thinking and reasoning during production and such recollections are always interesting. Director Robin Hardy, writer Anthony Shaffer and star Edward Woodward come at the discussions and material from different directions with a more contemporary industry name Eli Roth talking about how the film influenced his work.
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5.0 out of 5 stars The Wicker Man Conversations 26 Aug 2012
By R. Luck
Format:Kindle Edition
Think you've read all you need to read about the 'Citizen Kane of horror movies'? Then think again. Stephen Applebaum's essential e-book features interviews with director Robin Hardy, writer Anthony Shaffer and the late great Edward Woodward. A book so good, it'll send you back to the movie with fresh enthusiasm.
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4.0 out of 5 stars A fascinating read 19 July 2012
Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase
One of the best film interviewers around pulls together years of conversations with Hardy, Shaffer and Woodward to create a fascinating insight behind the making and thinking behind The Wicker Man - as well as the distributor's reaction when they finally saw it.

Sunday

Mockingjay - Part 1

The Hunger Games stars talk about saying goodbye to the series


The release of Mockingjay – Part 1 marks the beginning of the end for the box-office-smashing franchise based on Suzanne Collins’s popular Hunger Games trilogy of novels.
Following a trend set by the ­bisecting of the final Harry Potter tome, Deathly Hallows, and The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Mockingjay has been split into two movies, made back-to-back during one epic shoot. 

This means that fans will have to wait a year to see the series’ explosive finale. For Jennifer Lawrence, however, playing Katniss Everdeen – the girl from District 12 whose courageous stand on behalf of her younger sister, Prim, put her on a collision course with the repressive ­president of Panem, Coriolanus Snow (Donald Sutherland) – is ­already a thing of the past.

“I cried on the first day of our 10-month movie shoot,” she says. “Francis [Lawrence, the director] was like: ‘What’s wrong?’ I said: ‘I can’t stand thinking about it being over.’ He goes: ‘You won’t feel that way in a year.’ He was wrong. I was still crying.”

Mockingjay – Part 1 is the series’ toughest episode yet. Left traumatised by two Hunger Games – televised contests in which children from different districts in the fictitious country of Panem fight for their lives – Katniss is in a dark place. Literally, because she’s been taken to the subterranean District 13 after surviving the events of the second film, Catching Fire, and psychologically and emotionally because of her experiences thus far.

“She felt almost like an entirely different character, because she is so stripped down and feeling so empty,” says Lawrence. “She’s suffered from post-traumatic stress. She wakes up in a district she didn’t even know existed. She’s completely bare and has to rebuild herself.”

Although fiction, the world of The Hunger Games has always touched upon reality. Collins wrote the novels as a way of communicating to a young audience what she had learnt about war from her father, who served in the military. In Mockingjay – Part 1, all-out war looms as a rebellion – ­unwittingly precipitated by Katniss – against Panem’s rulers gathers pace. She reluctantly becomes the face of the revolution and, via a propaganda campaign, a lightning rod for uniting the country’s divided districts. While the story of people rising up against an oppressive regime is nothing new, things are not as black and white as they might ­appear at first.

“War is always messy,” says Francis Lawrence. “It’s much more shades of grey – it’s never very clean and there are always ­consequences.”

A key idea in the films, as in the books, though, is that individuals can make a huge difference. The actress Julianne Moore, a newcomer to the franchise, believes that part of the reason for the success of The Hunger Games comes from Collins’s engagement with questions that are important to adolescents.

“There’s that point in your life where you’re still under your parents’ control and you can see the future and you’re like: ‘Once I’m out there, who am I going to be?’ This series is really about that,” she says. “It’s about a young woman who moves from adolescence into adulthood and she changes the world, which is every kid’s hope.”

Sutherland says that he got involved because he hoped the films could be a “catalyst for young people who had been dormant [politically] for a generation or two, particularly in the United States”.

“The Occupy movement fizzled out because it didn’t have a leader,” he says. “I hope that these films will, in some way, become or create a leader who will put young people together in a way that they will understand.”

 This perhaps sounds a little fanciful and ambitious, but there is no denying that the films are making an impact. In Thailand, for example, protesters have adopted the three-finger, pro-freedom Mockingjay salute in demonstrations against the military junta. Francis Lawrence admits to having mixed feelings about this.

“It is thrilling that something that happens in the movie can become a symbol for people,” he says. “The thing that’s disturbing, though, is that it’s this kind of weird reflection where we’re mirroring what’s happening in the world and suddenly it’s mirroring back.

“When kids start getting arrested for it, there’s a lot more at stake and it takes the thrill, obviously, out of it, and it becomes a lot more dangerous and just makes the feelings much more complex. It’s troubling.”

Be that as it may, with Mockingjay – Part 2 still to come, and a Hunger Games stage show planned for London’s West End, Katniss Everdeen’s influence looks likely to get stronger.

From The National

Venice Film Festival: Keaton soars in Birdman - Film - The Scotsman

Published: 
FILLING the opening night slot of a film festival is a delicate business. Get it right, like Berlin with The Grand Budapest Hotel, and the press will love you.
Get it wrong – think Cannes and Grace of Monaco – and you could be wiping egg off your face for days. One of the questions coming to the 71st Venice Film Festival, then, was where Birdman (or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) would land.
The first comedy from Mexico’s Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu – whose feature output thus far has comprised the grim-and-gritty laugh-free dramas Amores Perros, 21 Grams, Babel and Biutiful – the film arrived on the back of surreal online trailers that had largely produced a mixture of bafflement, curiosity and anticipation. In Venice, on the Lido, posters showing a painterly image of Michael Keaton’s face, with a crouching Birdman figure on his head, merely added another layer of bizarreness.
The film eventually screened to warm applause at the first of two pre-gala press screenings on Wednesday morning. Arguably less strange than the trailers, Birdman (****) showcases a layered performance by Keaton as Riggan Thomson, a former comic-book movie star trying to gain crediblity and self respect by penning, starring in and directing a Broadway adaptation of Raymond Carver’s What We Talk About. He cannot escape his former alter ego, however, which constantly berates him as a gravelly voice in his head, revealing his self-doubt and insecurities.
Swirling around Keaton is a talented ensemble, including Edward Norton as a method actor for whom life on stage is more real than real-life, Naomi Watts as an actress who has finally achieved her dream of appearing on Broadway, and Emma Stone as Keaton’s daughter, fresh out of rehab. Almost everyone needs the play to succeed, but the trouble-hit previews suggest failure looks more likely.
Along the way, Inarritu explores the conflict between art and commerce, the relationship between artists and critics, and between art and criticism; the relationship between actors and their roles, between film-makers and their audience, to name a few. A thick vein of cynicism runs through the film, which may not be to all tastes.
As a barbed commentary on the state of contemporary culture and the impact of social media, the film is stingingly of-the-moment. It berates audiences for favouring sensation and spectacle over ideas, and tries to give the viewer both, reflecting the Riggan-Birdman duality. There is a degree of finger-wagging that can become too much at times.
But although flawed, Birdman is ambitious, elegantly directed, quirky, and unlike anything else in today’s multiplexes – and you don’t often get to say that about a film.
New York also features in Before I Disappear (***), writer-director Shawn Christensen’s stylish expansion of his 2013 Oscar-winning short, Curfew. Set mainly at night, the handsomely-mounted production stars Christensen as Richie, a chain-smoking, heartbroken, debt-ridden loser, who is interrupted while attempting suicide by a call from his estranged sister, who desperately needs him to look after her 11-year-old daughter, Sophia (Fatima Ptacek), for a few hours. Before long, he finds himself bouncing from one seedy location to another, with his precocious, over-achieving niece – who’d like to be anywhere but with him – in tow. That their initial frostiness will thaw is a given. But while the final destination is predictable, Christensen’s assured control of the film’s surprising tonal shifts, offbeat sense of humour, and effective use of music, including Bowie’s Five Years and The Animals’ House of the Rising Sun, make the journey worth taking. Ptacek is a real find. Expect to see much more of her.
From this side of the Atlantic, Guy Myhill also makes a noteworthy debut with The Goob (***), an immersive drama about a 16-year-old boy’s first love and troubled relationship with his mother’s stock-car racer lover (Sean Harris), during a hot summer in rural Norfolk.
Myhill creates a strong sense of place, observing his characters and their community with the eye of an anthropologist, while newcomer Liam Walpole is quietly engaging as the eponymous teen. Harris’s sleazy, rutting alpha, who treats Goob’s mother’s roadside cafe and surrounding beet fields as his personal fiefdom, and the women who work there as his playthings, is hard to forget. And difficult to like.
It’s not growing pains that the characters in the wonderful The Farewell Party (****) are struggling with, but the pain of old age. Sharon Maymon and Tal Granit’s film explores the ethical minefield of euthanasia when an amateur inventor, Yehezkel, living in a Jerusalem retirement home, creates a machine – amusingly built around a Sabbath timer – to allow a sick friend to painlessly take his own life. Soon, others find out about the device, forcing Yehezkel to decide whether or not to extend his illegal services.
This sounds grim. But despite dealing with such gloomy topics as death, dementia, the debilitating effects of old age, The Farewell Party unfolds with warmth, wit, whimsy and irreverence, without ever understating the seriousness of its themes. It is a difficult balancing act which this heart-warming gem pulls off perfectly.



Knockout punches absent at Venice Film festival - Film - The Scotsman


Published: 
Al Pacino in The Humbling

By STEPHEN APPLEBAUM
Comedy captured the Golden Lion, but really big hits were missing, says Stephen Applebaum
The 71st Venice Film festival began on an avian note with Birdman and ended with the event’s top prize, the Golden Lion, going to Roy Andersson’s absurdist comedy A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting Existence. In between, there was often more fizzle than sizzle, in a selection of films that failed to deliver a knockout blow.
Off screen, things were not much better. Normally, the streets around the Palazzo del Casino on Venice’s Lido heave with people day and night at festival time, but this year felt relatively underpopulated. Screenings, too, seemed more empty than usual.
There were stars, of course. But while some flew in just for a press conference or red carpet appearance, the festival’s biggest name, Al Pacino, was more than happy to stretch out meetings with the press to a schedule-shattering degree, as he warmly reflected on his life and work. He was a dream for journalists but a nightmare for publicists, who had to stand by impotently as their careful planning fell apart.
Pacino had much to be happy about. After the indignity (he doesn’t see it that way, naturally) of appearing in Adam Sandler’s dismal Jack & Jill, the 74-year-old legend was on the Lido with two projects far worthier of the star of some of modern American cinema’s most iconic films.
First up was Barry Levinson’s loose-and-woozy, reality-skewing adaptation of Philip Roth’s recent novel, The Humbling (* * *). Pacino is perfectly cast as Simon Axler, an actor struggling with his craft, what may be incipient dementia, a young lover (Greta Gerwig) and unwanted visitors. The actor kisses the masks of tragedy and comedy at the top of the film, tipping us off about where he will be taking us in one of his rangiest outings for some time.
He was also on fine form in David Gordon Green’s offbeat character study, Manglehorn (* * *), playing a grouchy locksmith who clings to the memory of an old flame while keeping everyone except his cat at arms length. He commits fully to the role of an old curmudgeon who has locked his heart (and any chance of joy) away for so long that he doesn’t realise he holds the key to release it, with a dour, low-key performance that’s sprinkled with flashes of brilliance.
Another veteran, Peter Bogdanovich, made a lively return with the frothy screwball farce, She’s Funny That Way (* * *). Owen Wilson plays a Broadway director whose habit of giving call girls large sums of money to change their lives comes back to haunt him when one of them (a delightful Imogen Poots) auditions for his latest play. Think Woody Allen minus the angst, with lashings of Ernst Lubitsch and others thrown self-consciously into the mix. Fun for fun’s sake.
Many thought that Joshua Oppenheimer was robbed when his harrowing documentary The Act of Killing was beaten to this year’s best documentary Oscar by 20 Feet from Stardom. He may get a second chance with its companion piece, The Look of Silence (* * * * *)– winner of five awards in Venice – which returns to the subject of genocide in 1960s Indonesia. Whereas The Act of Killing focused on the perpetrators, this time a man whose brother was brutally murdered is given an opportunity to confront people with different degrees of involvement in the killings. Formally, The Look of Silence is more conventional than its predecessor. However, it is an angrier, more combative film, with just as much power to horrify and appal.
Abel Ferrara followed Welcome to New York, his thinly veiled roman a clef about former IMF chief Dominique Strauss-Kahn, with another portrait of a controversial figure, Pasolini (* *). Willem Dafoe brings warmth and intelligence to his portrayal of the murdered iconoclast Pier Paulo Pasolini, during the last day of the film-maker’s life. However, his American accent, perhaps deliberately, makes him appear alien among the Italian cast. Meanwhile, Ferrara pitches his opaque film so specifically at viewers familiar with Pasolini that it’s virtually impenetrable for anyone else.
At the other end of the spectrum, Joe Dante’s Burying the Ex (* * *) was a refreshing splash of silliness. Screened to wild applause, the gleefully trashy zombie rom-com finds Anton Yelchin’s horror geek caught between the living and the dead when his clingy ex (Twilight’s Ashley Greene) returns from the grave, just as he is embarking on a new relationship with a like-minded ice-cream seller (True Detective’s Alexandra Daddario). Dante never lets good taste get in the way of a good rotting flesh or embalming fluid gag in a film that’s ready-made for cult status.
Finally, drug movies don’t get much more authentic than Heaven Knows What (* * *), a grimy drama about the lives of junkies living from fix-to-fix in New York. Starring newcomer Arielle Holmes – a former heroin addict playing a warts-and-all version of herself – Caleb Landry Jones (X-Men: First Class) and a supporting cast of real street people, the Safdie brothers’ unflinching vision of life on the margins is a kind of 21st-century version of The Panic in Needle Park. Tough but compelling viewing.

Nobel Prize Winner & Holocaust Survivor Imre Kertesz On Lajos Koltai's Film Adaptation Of Fateless



There are some people who suffer from this "[Auschwitz] disease" for life, simply because of the experience they have gone through. Another group simply doesn’t talk about it. And a third group of people have learned to come to terms with these events. I’m a writer, so I don’t belong to any one of these three categories. I view my experience as being raw material and I process it in the process of writing. And as I go along, I get rid of this experience. You know, this is how I go on and on and on and on, until I reach a stage, as a writer, where I will have run out of raw material. Then it’s time to die.

 
Did you have any reservation about your semi-autobiographical novel, Fateless, being turned into a movie? 

“In the beginning I had a lot of reservations, I must admit, and then I changed my mind and decided to write the screenplay myself. Then I was able to put an end to all my concerns. So I’m happy with the outcome.” 

What were your reservations? 

“Of course there were some reservations on my part because a film is a completely different genre and I didn’t want the novel, and the structure of the novel, to be changed in any way. So I think this is just a basic instinct on the part of writers.” 

How did you approach the screenplay in order to retain the integrity of the novel’s structure? 

“Right from the beginning onwards, it was impossible to use the same language I used in the novel in the film as well, or to transform it or transfer it in any way. That was simply inconceivable. In the novel I use a rather fictitious, analytical, and kind of reluctant language which cannot be used in film in any way. So what I tried to do was to translate one layer of the story of the novel into the film. I wanted to pick up the narrative and focus on a linear development in the film, by telling the story of a person who loses his personality.”  

Does the actor in the film look like the hero in the novel, or like you at that age? 

“The hero in the novel doesn’t have much in common with me. I gave him a lot of my own personal history but we differ significantly in nature. And the main actor in the film, who is a boy like an angel, also doesn’t have very much in common with me.” 

The boy survives by conforming to the concentration camp system. Is our ability to adapt a weakness as well as a strength? It was that conformist attitude which, in a sense, allowed the Holocaust to happen, as well enabling people like the boy to survive. 

“It always depends on your personal viewpoint and your personal angle. It is positive in the sense that people are simply able to conform to almost anything which helps them to survive. But you can also look at it from a negative viewpoint by saying that people are able to conform almost completely.” 

Yes, the ability which enables him/you to survive also brought about the Holocaust in away, didn’t it, because people adapted to Nazism? 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s a very interesting question that an old English writer, Mr Sterne, once put to himself: did he use his suffering and his pain well enough? And that is also a question that people put to themselves after having gone through a concentration camp, for example. Does it contribute to your life, does it enrich your personality, or do you lose a lot? That always depends on the individual.” 

At the end of the film the character expresses nostalgia for the camps. Is this something mankind needs or is it a particular nostalgia of this character? 

“I think it’s generally true to say this is the case and it’s nothing unusual. If somebody was imprisoned in a labour camp for a long time, once he’s released the feeling of freedom and liberty leaves him too much space that he actually starts to yearn for those times when he was captured and when he was locked up. So this nostalgia, which refers to a written passage at the end of the novel, reflects a certain kind of upheaval of writing on the part of this young boy. Now, he’s travelling this world of confusion, this boy, on his way home. He’s full of disgust and disdain because he doesn’t understand the world anymore, and therefore he’s longing for the times when he was still locked up in the concentration camp. We, as viewers, don’t know whether he feels like going back because the feeling of upheaval is stirred by the heat of the moment, or whether this is of a more general nature.” 

Are these invented emotions or did you experience these feelings? 

“I personally do not remember the feelings that I had back then. But in the novel, the hero was supposed to feel homesick in a way.” 

How much did you contribute to the production of the film? 

“I was not involved in the filmmaking at all and I was not contributing to selecting the actors either. I think the director was more apt to do that and, honestly speaking, I’m clueless concerning the Hungarian actors and their specific features or capabilities. So I didn’t want to interfere either when the film was shot, because that’s always the wrong place to be for a writer. He’s always in the way. So I stayed away.” 

Three years ago your screenplay was distributed in Vienna with the title Step By Step. 100,000 copies of it were distributed. Was it exactly the screenplay that was used for this film, or how much of it was amended and edited? 

“That’s exactly the one we used. The test was not amended.” 

You have talked about the “Auschwitz disease” and I wonder if you consider this to be a condition which is curable? Also, has anything been learned from these events, do you think? 

“It always depends. It depends on your individual personality. There are some people who suffer from this disease for life, simply because of the experience they have gone through. Another group simply doesn’t talk about it. And a third group of people have learned to come to terms with these events.”  

Which group do you consider yourself to be in? 

“[Laughs] I’m a writer, so I don’t belong to any one of these three categories, because my metabolism with reality differs significantly from the metabolism of most of the people you normally meet. I view my experience as being raw material and I process it in the process of writing. And as I go along, I get rid of this experience. You know, this is how I go on and on and on and on, until I reach a stage, as a writer, where I will have run out of raw material. Then it’s time to die. Just like the fate of Sisyphus, which I described at the end of my novel called Fiasco, there is this man standing on a rock with three gravel stones in his pocket, and he’s on his way home.” 

Lajos Koltai, the film’s director, says the boy experiences a kind of beauty while spending time in the concentration camp. Do you agree with that? 

“Yes, I very much share this particular view, because that is part of the whole story. Nature remains unchanged no matter what. The sun is always there, shining. There are the trees bearing fruit. Although I’m not the one who can pick them, they’re there. And the more beautiful nature, the stronger is the horror and pain.” 

This film is more neutral, emotionally speaking, than Hollywood films like Schindler’s List. Do you believe that this is a better way to deal with this kind of subject matter? 

“Yes, I think it really makes sense to be a bit more neutral, because if you’re too emotional you won’t get anywhere really. People keep on complaining, grumbling, but nobody wants to listen to them. That’s the problem. You have to find the right format, especially if you want to convey a message that relates to so much significant personal experience. If you want to reach out you have to find a different way. You have to stop complaining, you have to stop asking for people’s compassion, because that won’t get you anywhere.”

Copyright Stephen Applebaum, 2006