When I found out I’d be screening a film with a gay man as the protagonist, I was both apprehensive and curious. I’ve seen too many films where a leading gay character has to die or suffer some miserable fate as a necessary part of the story’s narrative (BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, A SINGLE MAN). However, as a gay man myself, I was curious about gay life in eastern Europe, particularly in a non-urban setting. It didn’t hurt that the film was a 2010 GLAAD award nominee for best film.

THE COUNTRY TEACHER, directed by Bohdan Slama, presents a realistic portrayal of a gay man in conflict that is refreshingly free of Hollywood’s more annoying stereotypes. The movie tells the story of Petr (nicely underplayed by Pavel Liska), a closeted prep-school teacher from Prague who comes to a bucolic Czech village to instruct children in the natural sciences. In an early lesson he advises prophetically, “If we don’t understand nature, we can’t understand ourselves.”

Shortly after his arrival, Petr is befriended by Marie (Zuzana Bydzovska), a local cow herder who lives with her teen son Lada (Ladislav Sidivy). While tutoring Lada in math, Petr finds himself attracted to the young man and embarks on a course of action that has traumatic consequences. It made me wonder, if Petr had been an out gay man, would he have had the problems he had? Is it possible to have a healthy romantic relationship if you still have at least one foot in the closet?

This provocative yet sensitive movie doesn’t flinch from showing Petr’s feelings for Lada. We also see that certain cultural touchstones for adulthood are more relaxed in this rural community. There is no adult censure when 17-year-old Lada is seen drinking hard liquor or smoking pot and there is acceptance of his sexually active relationship with a young woman. Does the film show that homosexuality is also acceptable? Well, to a certain extent, yes, but there is also a good deal of bewilderment, fear and ignorance.

Director Bohdan Slama (LIKE HAPPINESS, THE WILD BEES) bravely declines to portray Petr as criminally disturbed and it was great to see that Petr’s parents seemed more concerned about his loneliness than his sexual orientation. While Petr may have felt the need to be alone when he fled city life, he soon discovers that isolation is not the answer. As he stumbles awkwardly toward making bona fide human connections, he discovers they can be found in unanticipated places.

As for Marie’s reaction to Petr’s encounter with her son, Zuzana Bydzovska’s beautifully layered performance shows us that a cow herder can have a pretty sophisticated understanding of human nature. In fact, Marie’s intuitive abilities regarding both Petr and Lada left me wondering whether she was the real “country teacher” here.

For nature lovers, there are two graphic scenes showing a cow giving birth on Marie’s farm. I leave the symbolism for others to discern. But if you’re in the least bit squeamish, you’ve been warned!

I was just a young teen in Hebrew school when the 6-Day-War erupted on June 5, 1967 in the Middle East. I was relatively unaware of the political issues, but I do recall that a classmate questioned our teacher about Israel’s perspective and wondered if there wasn’t some merit to the Palestinian position. In short order, the young man was directed to the principal’s office and his parents were called in to review the matter with our rabbi. Seriously.

At the time, my perception of the Middle East was largely informed by family, Passover seders and the1960 blockbuster EXODUS, starring Paul Newman. That film’s positive portrayal of Israel generated an unprecedented flow of donations and caused the Israeli government to create a film division to fund positive-message films. So goes the power of movies.

Needless to say, a lot has happened since 1960 including a more complex cinematic consideration of Israel and Palestine. In just the past two years, several terrific films about the Middle East have been released including WALTZ WITH BASHIR, AJAMI, and the subject of this blog, LAILA’S BIRTHDAY. Directed by Palestinian filmmaker Rashid Mashawari, LAILA vividly defines the social and societal consequences of living in the non-stop chaos that is Ramallah, a Palestinian city in the central West Bank (and Mashawari’s hometown).

The movie chronicles a day in the life of Abu Leila (Mohammed Bakri), a former judge who, due to a lack of funding for justices, is forced to drive his brother-in-law’s taxi. The movie begins at dawn when Abu is awakened with the loud crash of shattering glass. He immediately checks in on his 7-year-old daughter, Laila. She’s fine, but the crash foreshadows a rough day ahead. As he leaves for work, Abu’s wife has just one request: be home by 8pm to celebrate their daughter’s birthday.

The clever conceit of the film is that we learn about Abu’s life in Ramallah from the passengers he picks up as well as those he declines. One passenger wants to go to an Israeli checkpoint, a request that a wary Abu refuses. Another hops out mid-journey when she spots a long line of people—she’s desperately hoping that the queue is for food and other supplies. And yet another sits in the passenger seat next to Abu and asks, as if he were an old friend, whether she should go to the hospital (she has high blood pressure) or the cemetery (her husband has recently passed); Abu takes her to the
hospital.

While noisy helicopters patrol above and gunshots crackle on every corner, Abu struggles to maintain some sense of order and control. But it is not long before we begin to see a fissure in his professorial reserve. When Abu stops for gas, he observes drivers casually chatting with one another while traffic has stalled in both directions. The drivers seem oblivious to the cacophony of honking cars around them. This is when Abu finally loses control, grabs a police megaphone and vents. It’s the Palestinian equivalent of Peter Finch’s breakdown in NETWORK.

There’s no question that social interactions in Ramallah have beenprofoundly affected by the absence of order and the constant threat ofviolence. And LAILA’S BIRTHDAY is remarkably successful at defining the extraordinary anxiety of an ordinary life in Palestine.

The culturally rich SONG FROM THE SOUTHERN SEAS, from Kazakh director Marat Sarulu, has absolutely nothing to do with Kazakhstan’s most famous fictional character, Borat. And that’s a very good thing. While the movie has elements of humor, it is the divisive and tragic consequences of racism that are the focus here. As you sort through the rough and tumble among the ethnic diversities depicted—Kazakhs, Cossacks, Russians, Germans and Kyrgyz —it’s hard to imagine how the distrust and prejudice that has existed for millenniums will ever abate.

I saw this movie just after writing my blog about LAILA’S BIRTHDAY, the quietly gripping film that captures the numbing chaos of life in Palestine. However, the scope of the cultural conflicts in Palestine seems dwarfed when compared to the more than 131 nationalities residing in Kazakhstan. Perhaps the most potent conflict is presented in the film’s opening moments when a dark skinned child is born to fair-skinned Russian farmers, Ivan and Marja, who just happen to have dark-skinned Kazakh neighbors. Tensions arise immediately.

But this movie is not actually about the identity of the real father. While Ivan initially rejects his newborn son, Sasha, there is no question about the parents’ love for him. Rather, it is Marja’s family, Russian Cossacks, who taunt the couple about Marja’s alleged infidelity. In one of the film’s especially well orchestrated sequences, Marja’s boorish brother inquires about Sasha and then summarily dismisses him: “he’s really not one of us”.

Meanwhile, Sasha is unaware of the snub since he has run away to live among Kazakh horse herders just beyond the family farm. The film doesn’t reveal why he has left, but the notion of escape is presented as an option that cuts across generations and cultures. And little wonder. The sweeping majesty of the mountains that border the vast Great Steppe is undeniably alluring.

This yearning for escape, however, is not without cost and sacrifice. As Ivan’s grandfather explains in a moving story about their family history, when one chooses to live among people who are culturally different, more is at stake than the wrenching sense of loss by the family left behind. There can be unanticipated challenges, some of them insurmountable. Ivan’s great grandfather, Alexander, who fell in love with a Kazakh woman, had to convert to Islam before her family would accept him. This involved shaving his head, becoming circumcised and adopting a Muslim identity. Not to mention a horse contest with a rival suitor. But that’s the least of it.

In the sequence below, Alexander seeks protection for his family when he learns that the Czar, with the help of Cossack regiments, is committing massacres to combat the Kazakh revolt of 1916. In this Kazakh version of SOPHIE’S CHOICE, a decision must be made about the fate of Alexander’s children—who will be saved and who will perish.  The decision is based on the appearance of the child’s race. The scene, directed with considerable restraint, is a cinematic punch in the gut. Here is Alexander’s plea for his children’s safety as the Russian armies advance.
 

Click to watch film clip

As he concludes the family history, Ivan’s grandfather remarks:  “…what holds life together is not force, Ivan, but love…”.  The comment comes as a surprise in the context of a culturally violent history. But it resonates strongly with Ivan and you sense that he has come upon a turning point in his life.

While it is not long before we see Ivan and Marja running after one another in perceived animosity, they ultimately collapse in each other’s arms after exhausting themselves. This time, however, there are no consequential bruises or black eyes. What may look like domestic violence through the prism of a Eurocentric culture is more accurately an interaction that is farcical and slapstick. The physical engagement is no longer intended to harm; it is an expression of frustration among a people who have been raised accordingly. The director intends that you laugh when they’re done fighting and surprisingly you do. 

Interwoven throughout the film are shadow puppets that comment indirectly on the film’s narrative. They tell the story of a young man’s search for peace. It is a wish to be freed from grief and painful memories. Life may be tough on Ivan’s farm, but he and Marja are resilient, affectionate in their way, and sometimes even joyous. And Ivan’s grandfather certainly knows what he’s talking about when he shares his life lessons on love and war.

In 2009, movies finally began to present stories about the devastating impact of the current global economic crisis. The movie that grabbed the most attention and was hailed as capturing a zeitgeist moment on corporate downsizing was UP IN THE AIR. Despite its acclaim and multiple predictions that it would be the one to beat at this year’s Oscar’s, it went home empty-handed. Truth be told, I wasn’t a big fan of the movie and thought its depiction of the economic crisis was more slick than illuminating. Where were the personal stories that showed the real devastation of job loss?

Italy’s satisfying answer is DAYS AND CLOUDS, directed by Silvio Soldini (BREAD AND TULIPS, AGATA AND THE STORM).  It traces the harrowing economic descent of a sophisticated, upper-middle-class couple in Genoa after the husband loses his job. Flawless performances by Margherita Buy and Antonio Albanese as the couple (Elsa and Michele) keep us riveted as they attempt to grapple with their escalating fears about an unfathomable future.

All seems fine as the movie opens with a surprise celebration of Elsa’s graduation from an art history program.  But when Elsa wakes up, Michele confesses that he hasn’t worked in months and they will probably have to sell their home. Elsa is furious at what she perceives as a betrayal of marital trust. While Michele explains that he did not want to distract her from her exams, it soon becomes clear that much more is at issue—Michele’s unbearable shame for jeopardizing a way of life that he can no longer maintain.

The theme of shame runs deep as Elsa discovers her own inability to share the news with her daughter or close friends. The stress of these multiple non-disclosures begins to create a weight so heavy that the marriage starts to buckle under the strain. The pain is so palpable I felt my heart racing as fast as their downward tumble.

I picked the clip below because it shows how the couple’s economic unraveling is beginning to invade all aspects of their life. It also highlights Michele’s state of denial and embarrassment as he pretends that everything is OK. In this scene, with the news of Michele’s job loss still fresh for Elsa, the simple act of picking up a dinner check with friends quickly devolves into an angry confrontation:

One review of this film suggests that Michele’s denial and anger are, in part, exacerbated be an “Italian machismo” that impairs his ability to cope with a surreal loss of stature. I’m not sure that’s correct. It seemed to me that Michele’s reaction was more universal and not necessarily affected by any cultural distinctions.

Michele’s search for employment flows from denial to desperation so quickly that he has difficulty adjusting to a reality that finds him working odd jobs as a postal messenger and plaster/painter--anything to avoid the horror of doing nothing. Elsa must also adjust to a future that requires working two shifts as a secretary. And she discovers that she must make decisions about whether to consider alternate life choices including other men. A pass from a wealthy, attractive businessman is not so easily dismissed and the pain of this discovery is revealed in a breathless moment of sadness, vulnerability and desire.

Film’s ending does, however, provide a glimmer of optimism and it is Elsa’s art restoration that serves as an apt metaphor: if you can scrape away the years of passive neglect that can camouflage a marriage, you may find, if you’re lucky, something very beautiful that has somehow managed to endure. Whether that’s true or not, we finally have a film that accurately captures the economic calamity that can happen to anyone. And it’s pretty scary.

When I think about Paris, I normally don’t think about subways. My Paris has sumptuous architecture, great restaurants, high fashion and intoxicating romance. And yet the Paris metro system is indeed the visual metaphor for the intersecting lives of five Parisians in Claire Denis’s latest award-winning film, 35 SHOTS OF RUM. While I missed seeing the city of lights in all its glory, those subway tracks had a mesmerizing effect and had me thinking about life choices and the potential dangers of changing course. There’s romance too, but it’s the kind of romance that causes unspoken internal stress and temporary immobility.

As the story unfolds, we are witness to a critical turning point in the intimate relationship between a father and daughter. As each independently contemplates an inevitable separation (the daughter is a pretty college student with more than one suitor), a melancholy sadness is beginning to hover over both of them. In a relationship where a warm familial embrace can chase away the blues in an instant, the prospect of independence is generating a fair amount of anxiety.

The film’s setting is a middle-class suburb of Paris where the father, Lionel (beautifully played by Alex Descas), works as a train conductor and his daughter Josephine (Mati Diop) is studying the politics of global economies. In the way Denis (BEAU TRAVAIL, CHOCOLAT) quietly captures the ordinary routines of their life together we begin to understand the extraordinary bond that exists between them. The magical quality of the film is found in how well we come to understand the characters despite minimal dialogue and not much narrative. As Josephine prepares dinner she can discern, simply from the familiarity of sounds that Lionel makes when he comes home from work, that everything in their world is just as it should be.

Or is it? Josephine’s feelings for a handsome neighbor, Noe (Gregoire Colin), appear inhibited by her feelings of love and responsibility for Lionel, a widower. At the same time, Lionel gives Josephine conflicting messages about his independence and resilience. Lionel is equally ambivalent about the advances of a former lover, Gabrielle (Nicole Dogue), also a neighbor. In fact, it occurred to me that Lionel might view Gabrielle’s advances as a threat to his relationship with Josephine. Any therapist would have a field day here.

In figuring out the best five-minute clip to share with you, I felt it had to be a moment that showcases Denis’s ability to communicate multiple messages where no words are spoken. In one of the more beautifully choreographed sequences of the movie, Lionel, Josephine, Noe and Gabrielle seek shelter at a café when their car breaks down in a torrential rainstorm. In the following clip, Denis reveals the conflicting desires of each character with the skillful economy of furtive glances and quicksilver expressions of emotion:

The theme of inevitable change, and the wariness and pain that can accompany it, is depicted more directly in another intersecting story-- the retirement of one of Lionel’s colleagues, Ruben (Jean-Christophe Folly). A celebration of Ruben’s retirement is really the first step in his downward spiral that finds him incapable of establishing an adequate replacement for work and the friendship of colleagues. Like Lionel, Ruben doesn’t say much but we understand from his sad, hooded eyes and body fatigue that he is confronting a bleak future.

Ruben’s story gave me chills. How often do we see retirement as a celebration when, in fact, the loss of purpose and social interaction is probably a perfect formula for depression? (Note: Another recent acquisition by Cinemondo, the brilliant film DAYS AND CLOUDS, deals with the trauma of job loss and its devastating consequences as experienced by an upper-middle-class couple in Genoa. Highly recommended!).

While the future for Lionel and Josephine is hardly as bleak as Ruben’s, Lionel does conclude that when their changed circumstances are at hand, it is finally time to have those 35 shots of rum. When it happens, my impulse was to simply say: Cheers!

Beginning Saturday, December 5th, some great award-winning Romanian films will be premiering on Link's airwaves. Ranging from indictments of the totalitarian Ceauşescu regime to explorations of contemporary social mores, these films come from a new crop of young Romanian directors -- the new wave -- and illuminate the changing society that is today's Romania. Some highlights include this week's premiere of Muntean's The Paper Will Be Blue, Porumboiu’s 12:08 East of Bucharest, and Cristi Puiu’s Stuff and Dough. And two great shorts are now available to watch online -- Hanno Hofer's tale of a village postman, Dincolo, and Humanitarian Aid.

The Romanian new wave has been a favorite in the film critic world for several years, catching the attention of the New York Times's A.O. Scott, among others. But most Americans haven't had the opportunity to see these great films from a country once known primarily for gymnastics -- until now.

Link TV proudly presents these films in partnership with the Romanian Cultural Institute in New York. Readers in NYC shouldn't miss this weekend's 4th Annual Romanian Film Festival at the Tribeca Cinemas -- more info is available at icrny.org.

The controversial Olympics in Beijing are about to launch, and it's no coincidence that Link TV has rolled out several eye (and ear) opening  programs for this week. China is an endlessly fascinating subject, and our programming department has chosen some compelling stuff for you. Mosuo Song Journey is a loving look at a remote part of China that is trying to adapt to an influx of tourism. The area is known for its matriarchal culture and its passionate songs, but "progress" is taking its toll. For a look to the past, Yang Ban Xi resurrects the Maoist years with some pure propaganda that took the form of highly entertaining musicals. Moving from music into the movies, we present an encore presentation from our first season of Cinemondo, with a harrowing tale of betrayal in Beijing in the film Stolen Life – a recent Tribeca Film Festival winner for Best Narrative Feature. And while I'm touting our cultural programming, don't forget our series Chinese Restaurants which is a tasty look at how Chinese culture survives in diaspora, through the lens of one of its most well known aspects: food.

We had some time to fill between the end of Blind Shaft this week's Cinemondo offering, and the next program. I love this sort of challenge; it's a programmer's delight to sequence videos that relate to a theme.  So after Blind Shaft's dark tale of greed you can settle back for a sampling of videos about our relationship to money: Aterciopelados' sarcastic Don Dinero makes fun of our obsession with the stuff. Control Machete delivers a cautionary tale about gambling, and Bisso Na Bisso gives us a whimsical - yes, it's possible -look at corruption. Taiwan's Kou Chou Ching rap about the perils of runaway capitalism in China, and we close with a sweet song about generosity, from Davy Sicard. Hey, we couldn't leave you depressed, could we?

And if you're having trouble making out this lyrics of this week's video premiere, Hard Times of Old England Retold, we've got them here for you:

Hard Times of Old England Retold

For 5 generations my family have farmed
By hoofs and by tractor by hoe and by hand
But that won't stave off the bank's last demand
Singing all the hard times of old England,
In old England very hard times.

Time was I could sell what I grew at the shop,
Then Tesco turned up all of that had to stop
Now I can't make a living out of my crop
Singing all the hard times of old England,
In old England very hard times.

More and more of our village gets sold every day
To folks from the city who're happy to pay
For a holiday cottage to stay empty all day
Singing all the hard times of old England,
In old England very hard times.

The countryside alliance expects I suppose
My support when they march down
To bloody Blair's nose
But they said not a word when our post office closed
Singing all the hard times of old England,
In old England very hard times.

The hedgerows my grandfather tended are gone
And with it the Lapwing and the Cornquake's sad song
I fear I'll be carrying on before long
Singing all the hard times of old England,
In old England very hard times.

And now to conclude and to finish my song
Let’s hope that these hard times they will not last long
And I may soon have occasion to alter my song and sing
All the Good Times of Old England
In Old England very good times.

This week we have a wonderful film on Cinemondo, called Vanaja. Why am I mentioning this on our world music page? It's because Vanaja has some wonderful music and dance in it. It opens up with an almost extinct art form, called Burra Katha, a kind of storytelling entertainment once common in Andhra Pradesh, where the movie was filmed. As the story progresses, the main character, a 14 year old girl takes up Kuchipudi  dancing, and I personally think this stuff is utterly mesmerizing. The precision of each movement, as it relates to the complexities of the musical accompaniment is a pleasure to watch. There are many different kinds of Indian dance (as demonstrated by the video by Sona Mohapatra "Ishq Nachaya" and Vanaja gives us an opportunity to gain insight into one of them - and it's a great story, too!