Back Row Thoughts – The Gamblers

We come to it at long last. Tomorrow the Academy will announce the shortlists in multiple categories, including International Feature. I’ve done my best to be as comprehensive as possible in watching and analyzing everything I could find, but I didn’t accomplish all I wanted to. There were several private screenings that I got invites for but they filled up too quickly. Between the two major film festivals I covered (one via screeners, the other in person), there were still about 10 entries that I couldn’t see due to either a scheduling conflict or lack of access. Hungary’s submission played once in Los Angeles during the Hungarian Film Festival… which was the same day as the closing of AFI Fest, and now it’s available on Netflix in every territory EXCEPT the United States.

I ended up seeing 36 of the 88 eligible submissions before the first cuts were made, and I’ll certainly be seeing more. As a Film Independent member, I have access to vote for next year’s Spirit Awards, which contain four nominated candidates that I haven’t yet viewed. If the production companies and/or distributors allow screeners for voting, I’ll knock those off with glee. Also, there are at least two further hopefuls that will be released in early 2024 that I didn’t get an opportunity to see early (Bhutan’s The Monk and the Gun and North Macedonia’s Housekeeping for Beginners).

To wait until after the shortlist – and really the final nominations – are released is quite the risky move on the part of the distributors. To hold onto the films until after voters have had their preliminary say is to tell audiences that they’re so confident in the quality of their product and their campaigning skills that they can afford to make the public sit on their hands until Oscar hype is at its peak before letting them see the movies because they believe they’ll still be in the conversation. That’s pretty ballsy, and could backfire spectacularly.

There are several other contenders similarly rolling the dice, and they are the focus of this final edition of “Back Row Thoughts” before the semifinal reveal. Of the 36 films I’ve seen for this competition, four remain that have not been reviewed somewhere in this space, all of which have sat on their releases until after the first hurdle, and at least two of which are waiting until after nominations are out. Will the gamble pay off? We’ll have to wait and see, obviously. But for what it’s worth, based on what I’ve seen so far, all four would make my personal shortlist of 15, so maybe that counts for something. Let’s put a bow on this puppy!

The Promised Land – Denmark – In Theatres February 2

Known as Bastarden (The Bastard) in its native Denmark, The Promised Land is arguably the safest of these four pictures, but that’s only because the home country is simply going with what works. The last time Denmark won the category (with Another Round), and one of its other recent nominations (2012’s The Hunt) had one major thing in common with this effort – Mads Mikkelsen. If Thomas Vinterberg had directed, I’d all but guarantee that it’d make the final five, as he directed those previous two standouts and earned himself an Oscar nomination for Best Director. Instead, this time the reins are handed to Nikolaj Arcel, who directed another Danish nominee, A Royal Affair, so I’d say the odds are still pretty good.

Based on the novel, The Captain and Ann Barbara by Ida Jessen, The Promised Land is a historical romantic drama led by amazing performances, epic scale, and relatable class warfare, all couched in the familiar fable of wanting what you have versus having what you want. It’s steadily paced and meticulous in its depiction of the struggle for acknowledgement and the value of hard work, while never forgetting the human element that makes all of that work worth it in the first place.

Mikkelsen plays Ludvig Kahlen, the unrecognized bastard son (hence the title) of a noble lord in 18th Century Denmark. Despite his lack of lineage, he rose through the ranks of the Danish army, becoming an officer and eventually a captain. Self-taught on the laws of the land, when he receives his officer’s pension, he seeks permission from the crown to attempt to cultivate some of the untamed heather lands in the Jutland region, an unforgiving space that even the most experienced land developers have not been able to solve. Still, Kahlen believes he can grow crops there, and asks for the chance to try. If he is successful, all he requests in return is a noble title. He’s even willing to stake his own pension on the project, meaning the government would provide no additional funding. Thinking he is sure to fail, and because they want to appease their king, who does want the heather to yield agriculture, the cabinet approves a land grant and sets him on his way.

Life in the remote lands is exceedingly difficult at first, especially because it will likely take a year of tilling and soil management before he can even plant anything. Still, Kahlen toils endlessly with what limited resources he has. He is eventually solicited by Johannes Eriksen (Morton Hee Andersen) and his wife Ann Barbara (Amanda Collin). The two are “tenant workers” at another property (basically slaves or, at best, serfs) who have run away, and they offer to work for Kahlen for half of a normal salary. Kahlen then makes envoys to the nomadic “Taters” (Romani) who squat in the nearby woods, offering them honest work instead of sneaking around and stealing from him. The Taters remind him that it is illegal to employ them, as it is for Johannes and Ann Barbara, as they are fugitives. They eventually offer up the rambunctious Anmai Mus (Melina Hagberg), an orphan child they’re glad to be rid of.

In spite of multiple setbacks, Kahlen’s fortunes begin to look up, until he’s confronted by the county judge, Frederik de Schinkel (Simon Bennebjerg), the only local lord and the former “owner” of Johannes and Ann Barbara. Caring only for his own power and position, de Schinkel openly flouts Kahlen’s royal credentials, claiming that the land is his and always has been, and seeing as how he’s the only law enforcement official in the area, he can assert his authority without proof or dissent. Throughout the film he tries to get Kahlen to sign the land over to him, thus making his claim legitimate and his rule absolute. He extends customary hospitality to Kahlen, but treats him with open contempt because of his low-born status, believing in his superiority by divine birthright. The rivalry they share offers a rare challenge to de Schinkel’s foppish iron fist, to the point that his betrothed, Edel Helene (Kristina Kujath Thorp), openly encourages Kahlen to keep trying, because if he triumphs and gains his nobility, she can marry him instead.

What follows is an escalating game of cat and also cat, with Mikkelsen’s stern yet stoic dignity contrasted with Bennebjerg’s sniveling rapaciousness. His portrayal of de Schinkel reminds me of some of Matt Smith’s better villain turns, both in appearance and attitude. It’s a giddy delight. Meanwhile, Mikkelsen gives yet another performance where every emotion imaginable is written on his face, keeping his head held high no matter how many times de Schinkel finds a way to smack him back down.

But where the film really gets me is in Kahlen’s development as a character. His determination to win at all costs is honorable, but eventually he comes to realize that he’s just a different version of de Schinkel with purer intentions. His singular focus on using the law to take what he believes he’s earned comes with an almost Ahab-esque level of obsession, clouding his judgment on the things that matter most, namely how pointless the endeavor is if he has no one to share it with. And when he does make major progress, the prejudices that exist between both de Schinkel’s blue-blooded lot and the racist commoners sent to work his fields shows just how futile it can be to try to change your lot in life if you can’t use that status to change the hearts and minds of those around you.

Grade: A-

Perfect Days – Japan – In Theatres February 23

It’s been five years since director Wim Wenders put out a film (the documentary Pope Francis: A Man of His Word), and six years since his last narrative feature (Submergence). Well, the man’s been busy in the interim, as he came out this Awards Season firing from both barrels, releasing the new 3D documentary Anselm (review coming soon) and Japan’s submission, Perfect Days. Framing the simplest of stories as only he can, Wenders brings an exploration of contentment front and center, creating one of the most gorgeous films of the year, full stop.

Kōji Yakusho stars as Hirayama, a middle-aged man living a minimalist life in Tokyo. Every morning he gets up at dawn, using the sound of a neighbor sweeping the sidewalks in lieu of an alarm clock. He folds up his futon, brushes his teeth, tends to a small group of tree saplings in his bedroom, puts on his work uniform, gets a can of iced coffee from a vending machine outside his apartment, and sets off on his day… cleaning toilets.

The ease of his vocation allows Hirayama the freedom to take in the little joys of life, observing the world around him with the uncomplicated wonder of a child. He takes pictures of trees and people that he has developed once a week. He takes in a daily meal of plain noodles and water at a local bar. He helps a lost child in a park find his mother. In between locations he listens to cassette tapes of classic rock (Van Morrison and Patti Smith; lovely choices). At one point he finds a piece of paper hidden in a crack in the wall tiling containing the beginnings of a tic-tac-toe game, so he makes an opposing move, creating a correspondence with an unseen stranger that lasts for days until the game is complete. He enjoys a sandwich on a bench, relaxes in a bathhouse, and goes to a small pub where it’s hinted that he’s a bit sweet on the barmaid (Yumi Asō). Every few days he goes to a used book store and picks out a new title for just a few yen, and reads by small lamplight before turning in each night.

This is a man who has it all figured out. His living arrangements are spartan, but every need is met, and he has few, if any, real problems. He hardly even feels the need to speak for the first two acts, because there’s nothing to say in most situations, which he just lets unfold. When his young subordinate Takashi (Tokio Emoto) complains constantly or animatedly pleads for his assistance in wooing the aloof Aya (Aoi Yamada), he simply takes it in stride as the idiotic behavior of a youth who doesn’t know any better. He never passes judgment, only observes and reacts as required. It’s amazing to watch Yakusho convey so much almost wordlessly, like a modern-day Charlie Chaplin (and not the one that Charlie Day pretended to be). It’s no wonder he won the Best Actor prize at Cannes this year.

The lingering question regards what Hirayama must have experienced in his past to get to this point. We get our hints and allusions in the form of his niece, Niko (Arisa Nakano), who comes to visit for a few days after running away from home. We learn that there was some falling out in the family, particularly with Hirayama’s sister/Niko’s mother (Sayuri Ishikawa), and that this bottom rung existence was Hirayama’s escape from it all. We never truly know what the pain in his life is, and why it drove him away, but we get just enough to imagine any number of plausible scenarios. In that sense, his life is just as much therapy as it is structured routine, and the ways he finds to cope and give salient advice become all the more endearing once that realization comes.

This is an absolutely beautiful film, gorgeously shot, with perfect musical interludes and a poetic presentation. In a world where there are so many problems, it’s incredible to see one person who was able to extricate himself from the troubles of life and find a separate peace. The miniscule act of watching a baseball game or playing a round of “shadow tag” may seem odd in a vacuum, but for someone like Hirayama – and the people he encounters – it can be everything. It truly shows how great of a performance Yakusho gives, and how great a filmmaker Wim Wenders is, that a man with one of the most unenviable jobs in creation can become a symbol for an ideal life. I pray to whatever god might exist that I can find the sense of serenity that Hirayama has one day.

Grade: A

Io Capitano – Italy – In Theatres Winter 2024, Date TBD

Director Matteo Garrone is no stranger to the Academy campaign process. This is his third film to get Italy’s endorsement for International Feature, and his 2019 version of Pinocchio earned Oscar nominations for Makeup & Hairstyling as well as Costume Design. If there’s anyone who can pull off the trick of waiting to release to drive more interest, it’s him (the film has distribution through the Cohen Media Group, but the release date has yet to be announced).

In a weird bit of domestic synergy, Io Capitano is something of a fictitious spiritual successor to a previous Italian submission, 2016’s Fire at Sea, which didn’t get shortlisted for International Feature, but was nominated for Documentary Feature. That film was about the migrant crisis, particularly in Sicily, where boats full of refugees often found themselves in dangerous and deadly situations while crossing the Mediterranean Sea from Africa. Tens of thousands died in the attempt. Garrone had this in mind when making Io Capitano, as Fire at Sea and other films like it focus solely on the final leg of the journey, when these desperate people approach Italian shores. His intent was to show the entire trek.

The stars of the film are Seydou and Moussa, played by Seydou Sarr and Moustapha Fall, respectively. The two are teenagers from a poor village in Senegal who dream of going to Europe to become musicians. Over the course of several months, they work odd jobs and save everything they make in order to pay their way through the network of smugglers to get themselves to Libya or Tunisia, and eventually on a boat to Italy. All the while they have to hide their intentions from their families, particularly their overprotective mothers, stashing money that could help in the short term for the promise of better earnings in the future that they can send back home.

Under cover of darkness, the boys board a bus and make for the border with Mali, beginning an absolutely harrowing odyssey that sees them robbed, imprisoned, enslaved, and threatened with murder at every turn. Many of the people they travel with succumb to either the elements of the Sahara or the hostile militias and warlords seeking a quick infusion of cash. When it seems like salvation is finally at hand, they come to port without enough funds to secure passage. An ultimatum is then presented. Seydou must captain the boat across the sea, even though he has no experience on any watercraft whatsoever. With minimal instruction, it is up to him to not only ferry himself and Moussa to Italy, but hundreds of others in similar dire straits.

What makes this movie so compelling, apart from Garrone’s assured direction and cinematography, is the genuine nature of Sarr and Fall’s performances. This is because, in a relatively unique production decision, Garrone decided to shoot the flick in chronological order, and not give his leads the appropriate script pages until the day of filming. As such, neither Sarr nor Fall knew what was going to happen to their characters on a daily basis. For all they knew, each day on set was the day they could make it to freedom or die. In doing so, Garrone elicited the most real and raw emotion possible. Other films in this competition used a similar technique (like Society of the Snow), but in those cases, the cast still had the full script and knew what would happen. They just shot in sequence because of the physical needs for the actors’ appearances. For Sarr and Fall, they literally finished each day not knowing what the next would bring, paralleling the fear and uncertainty of Seydou and Moussa in the film.

That’s an almost brutal approach, considering the trials that each character goes through over the course of the story, but it translates perfectly on the screen. Garrone consulted with several former refugees who successfully made the crossing, getting a ton of real-world accounts of just how insane this process is, and he made sure to convey that as accurately as possible through his two young protagonists. There are films in this competition that may be more complex and comprehensive when it comes to story and production values, but you’ll be hard pressed to find one as visceral.

Grade: B+

The Settlers – Chile – In Theatres January 12

The last film I saw at AFI Fest was one of the first I tried to track down, as I was unsuccessful in getting screeners through either the New York Film Festival or Mill Valley. But finally, after five days and 14 other shows, I got to see Chile’s submission, which like Concrete Utopia, was among the earliest announced.

Directed and co-written by debut filmmaker Felipe Gálvez Haberle, The Settlers is a revisionist historical epic presented in the style of an American Western, with predominantly English-speaking characters. In fact, for the bulk of the movie, I honestly wondered if it was going to be deemed ineligible, as entries must have at least 51% of the dialogue in a language other than English. It was only during the final act, which serves as an extended epilogue to the main action, that my concerns were alleviated, as the proceedings fully converted to Spanish.

Towards the end of the 19th Century, the lands in what is now Chile and Argentina were assigned by the individual governments to European land barons. One such owner, José Menéndez (Alfredo Castro), controlled hundreds of square miles in both countries. Using low-wage and slave labor from amongst the native population, the story here focuses on three men sent by Menéndez to survey his territory and borders, forging a path to the ocean for trade and transport. The unlikely trio consists of Scottish army captain Alexander MacLennan (Mark Stanley, perhaps best known as Grenn from Game of Thrones), American bounty hunter Bill (Benjamin Westfall), and a mixed race native mestizo referred to only as “Segundo,” as he’s MacLennan’s “second” in the operation because he doesn’t trust Bill. He’s played by Camilo Arancibia.

What begins as a routine expedition quickly becomes quite dark, before turning into what amounts to a parade of human rights violations. While ostensibly the three are there to clear a path to the sea, MacLennan’s real task is to eradicate every native Ona tribesman encountered along the way. The indigenous are hunted and slaughtered like animals, the surviving women are raped before being executed, and their ears are taken as trophies. All the while, Segundo has to maintain a cautious silence, because while he’s disgusted by what he must see and occasionally take part in, he knows that to speak up could mean his own death (Bill has an itchy trigger finger for him from the instant they meet), and given his half-breed status, even the Ona won’t acknowledge him if he tries to intervene on their behalf.

The shock value comes to a head with the interception of one Colonel Martin (Sam Spruell in a deliciously evil performance). There the three see depths of depravity that even they can’t stomach, forcing them to take stock of their own values and wonder just how far they’ve fallen, and how much farther they can fall still.

If there’s one major complaint I have, it’s with the aforementioned final sequence. Taking place years after the expedition, it’s a completely different tone and pace from the rest of the film. Sometimes it feels like a palate cleanser, but in other spots it just feels like padding, a sort of “What have we learned?” afterthought that sadly lasts for a solid 20 minutes. It offers some context to the cruelty we’ve just witnessed, but I don’t think it was needed. You often see movies that start in medias res, where a series of scenes like this one sets up a flashback that is the real plot. It can be a tad tropey and tiresome, but the viewer can at least understand that it’s a framing device. Putting that at the end sort of defeats the purpose, because we don’t need any further framing than what the main narrative already gave us. It’s a minor gripe, and it did provide enough non-English dialogue to qualify the film, so I don’t exactly hate it, but it didn’t sit right with me. On the whole though, the risks that Haberle as a first-time director took were more than worth it.

Grade: B+

***

And that’s all of them, folks! Thirty-six entries up, 36 down. Tomorrow we’ll see which of these films, if any, cleared the first hurdle in this massive annual race, and we’ll find out just how many more I have to try to track down. Fingers crossed for some easy answers!

Join the conversation in the comments below! Are you looking forward to any of these films? How closely do you follow the International Feature competition? Would you clean toilets for a living in exchange for a perfectly zen existence? Let me know! And remember, you can follow me on Twitter (fuck “X”) and YouTube for even more content!