Film Review: Saint Maud

 

You’ll get a lot of bang for your buck with this film. It’s described as a drama/horror/mystery, and all those elements are certainly there, as are religion, carnality, piousness (pretended if not felt), jealousy, even supernatural dreams and – strangely enough – humor.

If that sounds exhausting, fear not: first-time writer/director Rose Glass puts it all together into a fascinating whole in “Saint Maud.”

In the somewhat cheesy British seaside town of Scarborough, a pious young nurse (Morfydd Clark) takes a new job caring for a retired dancer/choreographer ravaged by cancer. Amanda (Jennifer Ehle) is a woman of some renown, with an expansive personality, several books and many friends to her credit. 

The nurse is another case entirely: a recent convert to Catholicism (apparently the result of an unnamed trauma), she has decided to dedicate her life to God, and now is quietly insistent and determined to save Amanda’s soul. But Amanda wants no part of this. 

Amanda (brilliantly portrayed by Ehle) dubs the nurse “Saint Maud,” and the deeper we go into this story, the weirder things get, as the aforementioned elements begin to appear. As does Maud’s vulnerability.

Maud does seem to be a competent nurse; the physical therapy she does on Amanda’s legs (with massage and manipulation) gives Amanda some much-appreciated pain relief. But even this mutual comfort leads to a horrifying flashback for Maud.

Maud’s usual escape is a walk to sea, where a somewhat cheesy carney is in operation. One day she bumps into Joy (Lily Knight), a nursing colleague from pre-conversion days, and they exchange phone numbers. Will this lead somewhere?

Clark turns in a sterling performance as the tortured nurse who seems to be trying to escape the world by means of religion, only to find more problems.

Glass gives us an impressive debut film. Her judicious use of ominous sounds and familiar horror film tropes like a cockroach on the wall keep us in horror-film mode. But what she does particularly well is to keep us guessing about what Maud will do next and what that will do to her fragile psyche. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, the film goes somewhere else. I love that in a movie.

“Saint Maud” opens Feb. 12 on EPIX.

Film Review: Nasrin

                                                                            

 

We Americans think we’ve got it tough, just trying to get back some semblance of normalcy after four years of a political regime gone awry and a pandemic that still keeps most of us separated from friends and social gatherings.

But consider – in a much longer time frame – the plight of women in Iran, who in the approximately 2500 years of its existence as a political entity went from the right to own property, manage their own finances, receive an education and choose their spouse (in ancient Persia) to a status equal to children and slaves (in 224 AD) to getting some of those rights back under the Shah in the 1960s.

The Iranian Revolution in 1979 brought back the forced Islamic dress code and deprived women of certain jobs, child custody and divorce. Ouch.

Meet Nasrin Sotoudeh, a contemporary female civil rights attorney and voice for the voiceless in present-day Iran. Nasrin specializes in women’s and children’s rights, domestic abuse and death penalty cases. This does not endear her to the government; she has, in fact, been jailed several times for her efforts.

But the woman we meet in the new film “Nasrin” perseveres – cheerfully, in fact – with her work. It’s downright inspiring to watch her talk with a new client arrested for a demonstration against the dress code that requires women to wear a hijab in public.

Nasrin left the courtroom because they would not let her speak. The defendant got 21 months in prison (but was released after three); Nasrin was herself arrested and forced to spend 2-1/2 months in solitary confinement.

Nasrin’s husband Reza, a graphic designer, supports his wife’s crusade, by now used to taking care of their two children when she ends up in jail.

The film is remarkable in many ways, the heroism of Nasrin being only one. Though filming was done surreptitiously over more than two years, the editing is superb and the result consistently engaging.

There is footage, for example, of Nasrin and her friends sitting around the table making dolls and other items to sell during the holiday season.

“Every year, we put on a craft show to pay blood money to free prisoners,” she says.

There are scenes with TV journalist Ann Curry (who notes that she found Iranians she has spoken with to be open-hearted) and with Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi, who in 2010 was prohibited from making films for 20 years.

The world could use many more heroines like Nasrin. This film is a good down payment on doing her justice.
 

Film Review: Crip Camp

Who’d have believed that a summer camp for handicapped kids in New York’s Catskills would lead to major political action that would eventually become the Americans with Disabilities Act? All it took was dedication, work and determination.

Don’t pass up a chance to see “Crip Camp,” the new documentary that shows how they did it. I know, the title sounds tasteless and condescending, but these campers are so humorous and inspiring and the film so well done (Michelle and Barack Obama are the executive producers) that you’ll be fascinated by it.

Holding the film together is idea man James LeBrecht, who was born with spina bifida. “They didn’t think I’d live more than a couple of hours,” he reports. “Apparently, I had a different plan.” When he grew up, his plan was to work in theater; he has been the sound designer at Berkeley Repertory for some years.

LeBrecht acts as a sort of narrator/guide, explaining that Camp Jened began in 1951 as a traditional camp for handicapped kids to take part in prescribed activities. But with the advent of ’60s and ’70s counterculture, things changed. The camp became more experimental, a place where the kids could play guitars, go swimming, make out or do whatever they wanted.

Camp Jened, three hours north of Manhattan in the Catskills, is out in the woods “where you can smell the trees.”  There, they could meet with other handicapped kids and not have to deal with the isolation and stigma they faced in the outside world.

“It was like Woodstock,” says camper Denise. “It was utopia. We were there. There was no outside world.”

They formed closer bonds than usual for a camp setup. And counselors slept in the same bunks, which made it a great setup for discussions about why the outside world treated the disabled like objects and why buses were not accessible, which led to thoughts of political action.

As the kids grew up and went to college, they still came back to summer camp to see their friends. In the mid-’70s, some of the gang moved to Berkeley, where they established the Center for Independent Living. 

Several of them got involved in social movements. The federal Rehabilitation Act of 1973 gave them the perfect vehicle to advance the handicapped cause. That law (the predecessor of the Americans with Disabilities Act) addressed the notion of equal access by removing architectural, employment and transportation barriers. 

But Section 504, which prohibits federal contractors and subcontractors from discriminating in employment against people with disabilities, was not enforced.

Only a lengthy (and often amusing) sit-in outside Califano’s house and Washington offices (starring many former Jened campers) finally got the desired response.

“Camp Crip” is not only an inspiring story, but a wonderfully edited film with a captivating script and a terrific cast of dedicated hell-raisers. Don’t miss it.

"Crip Camp" is screening on Netflix.

Film Review: Identifying Features

Many of the so-called “hordes of illegal immigrants” we’ve been hearing about so dismissively for the last four years are just teenage boys who have left home in search of work, as first-time director Fernanda Valadez shows us in the touching film “Identifying Features” (Sin Señas Particulares).

Her heroine is a mom named Magdalena (Mercedes Hernández), whose teenage son Jesús left their home in Guanajuato, Mexico with a friend named Rigo to try to find work across the border. But neither boy has been heard from since, and Magda simply can’t let that ride. She decides to go to the border herself and try to find out what happened to Jesús. Her friend Chuya (Laura Elena Ibarra), another mom who has been down this road before, gives her some tips.

At the border, Magda needs to sign up and stand in line. It all seems so … impersonal, and when on a videotape of victims’ possessions Magda spots a duffle bag that belonged to Jesús, she does what Chuya has advised: “Don’t sign anything without a blood match, because if you do and it isn’t his, they won’t help you anymore.” But her main advice is “Don’t get caught, because the penalty is deportation.”

So Magda goes off on a private odyssey to try to trace her son’s steps, in hopes of finding someone who can tell her anything about Jesús. It will involve bus rides, long trudges in unfamiliar territory and talking to people who may be dangerous – and it may all be in vain.

She bumps into another searcher: Miguel (David Illescas), himself a teenager, returning to Mexico from U.S. deportation, looking for his mother. They go their separate ways, only to meet again in a shattering conclusion.

Valadez’s shooting style flips from lyrical and lovely countryside scenes to the horrors of the border and all that entails to dreamy episodes of the past – mostly accomplished by using the technique of blurring the shot. Some might find it annoying, but I didn’t find it so, and the superb portrayal by Hernández engages our interest throughout. 

Clarice Jensen’s score reflects the rest of the film: spare, but effective, sometimes loud like a blast from a car radio, other times quietly lyrical.

“Identifying Features” is an impressive debut feature. Heck, it’s an impressive feature, period. I look forward to Valadez’s next effort.

“Identifying Features” opens Jan. 22 at San Diego’s Digital Gym Virtual Cinema.

Film Review: Epicentro

 

The recent talk about free speech, control and who’s lying about what that has recently taken over American airwaves fits right in with filmmaker Hubert Sauper’s impressionistic, colorful and altogether delightful “Epicentro,” which takes the history of Cuba as its subject.

Sauper explores the island’s outside influences (i.e., colonialism) and internal politics, but concentrates on the attitudes of present-day Havana residents. Our guides are two young girls – Leonelis Arango Salas and Annielys Pellaclito Zaldivar – who tell us they’re making a film about “foreign influence and slavery and people in the street.”

Cuba – perhaps best known to gringos as “America’s playground” – has had to contend with outside colonial powers since the arrival of Columbus in 1492, when he declared it Spanish territory. Immediate attempts to enslave the indigenous population and the later importation of black slaves from Africa led to several failed rebellions, but in the late 19th century the U.S. decided it wanted influence in the territory. 

The sinking by Spain of the American battleship USS Maine led to war and the resulting American colonization of the island, which soon sprouted hotels, casinos and other tourist amenities. Popular films and magazines featured pictures of sandy beaches and those great old convertibles of the ‘50s and ‘60s cruising down the street.

What the tourist press didn’t cover was the now-infamous American prison at Guantánamo Bay, which needs no explanation to Americans.

This sort of dichotomy – the beauty and delight of island life for vacationers in contrast to the grimness of a prison – led Sauper to reflect on truth in life as well as truth in the arts like cinema. But this is no stuffy historical treatise – Sauper is careful to show the delight, joy and spontaneity of the Cubans, most especially the children.

It’a a bit of a roller-coaster ride, taking us down one route only to say “no, that’s not it” and take another way. But it’s engaging all the way – especially  those irrepressible kids, who at one point get Sauper to pretend to a luxury hotel that they are his children, so they can use the pool on the hotel roof.

Oona Chaplin (Charlie’s granddaughter) even shows up, acting with one of the girls, singing a song and attending a screening of a Chaplin film, to the delight of the children.

“Epicentro” is a rarity: a real documentary that exposes the bad (and the fake) while not ignoring the real joy of life in Cuba.