Wojciech Staroń documents his girlfriend’s year in Usolye-Sibirskoye as a Polish teacher in poetic SIBERIAN LESSON
NEW FILMS PRESENTED BY LIVIA BLOOM: TWO LESSONS (Wojciech Staroń, 2013)
SIBERIAN LESSON (Wojciech Staroń, 1998) and THE ARGENTINIAN LESSON (Wojciech Staroń, 2011)
Maysles Institute
343 Malcolm X Blvd. between 127th & 128th Sts.
December 16-22, $10 suggested donation, 7:30
212-582-6050
www.mayslesinstitute.org
“I left all my troubles in Poland, all the duties that occupied my days,” Malgosia says at the beginning of 1998’s The Siberian Lesson. “I really wanted to leave them all behind. I wanted a break.” As it turns out, spending a year in Usolye-Sibirskoye does not end up being much of a break for Malgosia, who arrives in a town out of time, looking more like 1956 than 1996. Malgosia has traveled to Siberia to teach her native language to the descendants of Polish exiles who fled the country during tsarist rule, men, women, and children who know little of their homeland; she is joined by her boyfriend, recent Polish Film Academy graduate Wojciech Staroń, who is documenting it all with his 16mm camera. Malgosia, who narrates the film in a dry monotone, immediately discovers that life is extremely difficult for this tight-knit community; the teachers are on strike, and poverty is rampant, the food of survival the potato, which she is told everyone must grow for themselves in order to make it through the hard winter. She meets some rather unique characters during her stay, including Tatar gym owner Zinat, Father Ignacy, and a night watchman named Walery who has dedicated his life to translating the Bible from Polish into Russian. Meanwhile, students of all ages come to her classes, seeking something they can’t otherwise find in their daily existence. Malgosia is also searching for something in her own life, and she finds it in her growing love for Wojciech, who adds beautifully poetic shots of the vast Siberian landscape to accompany Agata Steczkowska’s nearly elegiac piano score.
Janek and Marcia learn some hard truths in sadly beautiful ARGENTINIAN LESSON
Ten years later, Malgosia and Wojciech are now married, and they move to the remote village of Azara in northern Argentina for two years with their children so Malgosia can teach Polish to the emigres living there. While the first film focused on Malgosia, Argentinian Lesson follows their eight-year-old son, Janek, as he befriends Marcia, a smart eleven-year-old girl who needs to work in order to help support her family; her mother stays at home, suffering from a mental illness, while her father lives far away, toiling in the rice fields for very little pay. It is heartbreaking watching Marcia’s struggle, particularly when she and Janek go on a trip to see her father, whose eyes fill with tears when he bids farewell to his daughter. “It’s not easy,” he tells Wojciech. “It’s not easy.” Argentinian Lesson is a different kind of coming-of-age documentary, one that shows there are no simple answers, especially when children have to grow up so fast. Wojciech once again features gorgeous shots of the local landscape, helping him earn the Silver Bear for Outstanding Artistic Contribution (Camera) at the 2011 Berlinale, among many other awards. The documentaries, each of which runs about an hour, can now be seen together as Two Lessons, which is making its worldwide theatrical premiere December 16-22 at the Maysles Documentary Center in Harlem as part of the bimonthly “Documentary in Bloom: New Films Presented by Livia Bloom” series.
Based on the true story of Somali pirates hijacking a Maersk container ship in the spring of 2009, Paul Greengrass’s Captain Phillips is a nonstop action thriller, a gripping film that is solidly one of the best of the year. Tom Hanks gives a riveting performance as Captain Richard Phillips, a merchant marine guiding the MV Maersk Alabama on its mission to deliver relief supplies to Somalia, Uganda, and Kenya, in addition to more standard cargo. A family man, he kisses his wife, Andrea (Catherine Keener), goodbye, then heads out on his journey, paying close attention to a memo warning of possible pirate activity. When small motorboats do indeed start approaching, Phillips tries diversionary tactics — the ship and crew were not permitted to carry any weaponry whatsoever back then — but he knows that it’s only a matter of time before they come back, and indeed the Alabama is soon boarded by four armed pirates led by Abduwali Muse (Barkhad Abdi), who capture Phillips and take over the ship. But things don’t go quite as planned for Phillips or the pirates, leading to a marvelously staged showdown finale. Greengrass, who has made such previous expert thrillers as Bloody Sunday, The Bourne Supremacy, and United 93, once again builds unrelenting tension every step of the way, even for those in the audience who might already know the outcome. The film centers on the complex relationship between the relatively easygoing Phillips and the desperate Muse, their eyes constantly meeting in penetrating gazes as they play an intense psychological game of cat and mouse. Hanks is a marvel as Phillips, giving brilliant nuance and texture to what could have been a one-note role but instead ends up being one of the finest of his outstanding career. All along the way, Greengrass keeps upping the ante, whether in a chase on the high seas or a claustrophobic battle of wills inside a lifeboat. There has been some controversy over the factual accuracy of the film, which is based on Phillips’s bestselling A Captain’s Duty: Somali Pirates, Navy SEALs, and Dangerous Days at Sea (written with Stephan Talty), but that doesn’t take anything away from what is a breathtaking cinematic experience.
Ingmar Bergman’s Shame is a brilliant examination of the physical and psychological impact of war, as seen through the eyes of a happily married couple who innocently get caught in the middle of the brutality. Jan (Max von Sydow) and Eva Rosenberg (Liv Ullmann) have isolated themselves from society, living without a television and with a broken radio, maintaining a modest farm on a relatively desolate island a ferry ride from the mainland. As the film opens, they are shown to be a somewhat ordinary husband and wife, brushing their teeth, making coffee, and discussing having a child. But soon they are thrust into a horrific battle between two unnamed sides, fighting for reasons that are never given. As Jan and Eva struggle to survive, they are forced to make decisions that threaten to destroy everything they have built together. Shot in stark black-and-white by master cinematographer Sven Nykvist, Shame is a powerful, emotional antiwar statement that makes its point through intense visual scenes rather than narrative rhetoric. Jan and Eva huddle in corners or nearly get lost in crowds, then are seen traversing a smoky, postapocalyptic landscape riddled with dead bodies. Made during the Vietnam War, Shame is Bergman’s most violent, action-filled film; bullets can be heard over the opening credits, announcing from the very beginning that this is going to be something different from a director best known for searing personal dramas. However, at its core, Shame is just that, a gripping, intense tale of a man and a woman who try to preserve their love in impossible times. Ullmann and von Sydow both give superb, complex performances, creating believable characters who will break your heart. Shame is screening December 14 and 18 at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center series “Liv & Ingmar: The Films,” being held in conjunction with the theatrical release of Dheeraj Akolkar’s poetic new documentary, Liv & Ingmar; the festival continues with such other Ullmann/Bergman pairings as Scenes from a Marriage, Saraband, The Passion of Anna, and Persona.
In Saraband, masterful writer-director Ingmar Bergman returns to the story of Marianne (Liv Ullmann) and Johan (Erland Josephson), first brought to life in the heartbreaking Scenes from a Marriage in 1973. Marianne, who hasn’t seen her ex-husband in thirty years, suddenly decides to pay the aging recluse a visit, resurrecting emotions both good and bad. Shot digitally, what purports to be Bergman’s swan song looks more like a TV movie than a theatrical release; in fact, it was made for Swedish television, as was the earlier work, but this one contains far less energy. While there are moments of brilliance, there are also scenes of mediocrity and mundanity that fall flat. The framing device of having Marianne speaking directly to the camera as she looks at old photos detracts from the overall impact as well. But it is great to see Josephson and Ullmann together again. The most fascinating new character, and one that fits well in the Bergman oeuvre, could very well be Henrik (Borje Ahlstedt), a complex, scary man with serious problems between him and his father as well as with his daughter, Karin (Julia Dufvenius). Saraband is screening December 14 and 18 at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center series “Liv & Ingmar: The Films,” being held in conjunction with the theatrical release of Dheeraj Akolkar’s poetic new documentary, Liv & Ingmar; the festival continues with such other Ullmann/Bergman pairings as The Passion of Anna, Face to Face, Cries and Whispers, and Scenes from a Marriage.