THE RAID: REDEMPTION (SERBUAN MAUT) (Gareth Huw Evans, 2011)
Thursday, March 22, MoMA, 11 West 53rd St. between Fifth & Sixth Aves., $14, 6:00
Thursday, March 22, Film Society of Lincoln Center, Walter Reade Theater, 165 West 65th St. at Amsterdam Ave., $14, 11:00 pm
Opens in theaters Friday, March 23
newdirectors.org
www.sonyclassics.com
The Raid: Redemption is a nonstop claustrophobic thrill ride through a fifteen-story apartment complex where danger lurks around every corner and behind nearly every door. The gated, heavily protected building is run by Tama (Ray Sahetapy), a well-connected drug lord who enjoys terrorizing and killing traitors and enemies. Early one morning Jaka (Joe Taslim) leads his elite special forces unit on a raid of the complex, ordered to get Tama and end his brutal reign. As Jaka’s team falls one by one, it is left to a determined young rookie, Rama (Iko Uwais), to complete the mission, which is not quite what it appears to be. Written, directed, and edited by Welsh-born Gareth Huw Evans, The Raid: Redemption is a furious, testosterone-heavy action flick filled with breathtaking scenes of ultraviolence countered by moments of intense, quiet drama where one wrong move will be a character’s last. Primarily shot with a handheld camera that puts the audience in the middle of the battle, the film uses a variety of weapons in the well-choreographed fight scenes, from machine guns and pistols to serrated knives and machetes, while focusing on the martial art of Pencak Silat. Uwais, a former truck driver and Silat champion who was discovered by Evans while the director was researching a documentary on the martial art — the two previously teamed up on 2009’s Merantau — is outstanding as Rama, a father-to-be who might have met his match in Mad Dog (Yayan Ruhian), one of Tama’s chief operatives and a killer who prefers using his hands, fists, and feet to eliminate his opponents. (Uwais, Ruhian, and Evans collaborated on the action choreography.) Buoyed by a pulsating score by Joseph Trapanese and Linkin Park’s Mike Shinoda and evoking elements of the first Die Hard, Assault on Precinct 13, and New Jack City, The Raid: Redemption is a pulse-pounding, wildly successful film that has kicked off a franchise, with two sequels in the works. (Here’s hoping the translator does a better job in the next two movies, taking a much-needed crash course in punctuation.) Even the credits are awesome, with dozens of characters listed as Hole Drop Attacker, Riot Van Shooter, Carrying Bowo Fighter, Machete Gang, AK47 Attacker, Panic Man, Tortured Man, and Junkie Guy. “I deal in blood and mayhem,” Evans, who has been based in Indonesia since 2007, states in the film’s production notes. Indeed he does.
The Raid: Redemption opens in theaters March 23, but you can catch it a day early as part of the “New Directors, New Films” series taking place at MoMA (6:00) and the Film Society of Lincoln Center (11:00), with director Evans on hand for Q&As following both screenings. The festival runs March 21 – April 1 and also includes such films as Pablo Giorgelli’s Las Acacias, Julia Marat’s Found Memories, Adam Leon’s Gimme the Loot, Stanley Kubrick’s Fear and Desire, and Nadine Labak’s Where Do We Go Now?


The fiftieth-anniversary restoration of Jean-Luc Godard’s Nouvelle Vague classic, Breathless, which came out in 2010, will leave audiences, well, breathless. Godard’s first feature-length film, buoyed by an original treatment by François Truffaut and with Claude Chabrol serving as technical adviser, is as much about the cinema itself as it is about would-be small-time gangster Michel Poiccard (an iconic Jean-Paul Belmondo), an ultra-cool dude wandering from girl to girl in Paris, looking for extra helpings of sex and money and having trouble getting either. Along the way he steals a car and shoots a cop as if shooing away a fly before teaming up with Patricia Franchini (Jean Seberg) and heading out on the run. Godard references William Faulkner and Dashiell Hammett, Humphrey Bogart and Sam Fuller as Michel and Patricia make faces at each other, discuss death, and are chased by the police. Anarchy prevails, both in Belmondo’s character and the film as a whole, which can go off in any direction at any time. Godard himself shows up as the man who identifies Michel, and there are also cameos by New Wave directors Jean-Pierre Melville and Jacques Rivette. The beautiful restoration, supervised by the film’s director of photography, Raoul Coutard, also includes a new translation and subtitles that breathe new life into one of cinema’s greatest treasures. Breathless is screening March 22 at 1:15 as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s “15 for 15: Celebrating Rialto Pictures” series, consisting of fifteen films reissued and restored over the last fifteen years by the art-house distributor founded by Film Forum programmer extraordinaire Bruce Goldstein. The series includes such other seminal works as Melville’s Army of Shadows and Léon Morin, Priest, Robert Hamer’s It Always Rains on Sunday, Federico Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria, Claude Berri’s The Two of Us, and Mel Brooks’s The Producers.



Inspired by Homer’s Odyssey, Gaston Bachelard’s The Poetics of Space, and the Bowery Boys’ Spooks Run Wild, Canadian experimental filmmaker 

“You call this a film?” Jafar Panahi asks rhetorically about halfway through the revealing documentary This Is Not a Film. After several arrests beginning in July 2009 for supporting the opposition party, the highly influential and respected Iranian filmmaker (Crimson Gold, Offside) was convicted in December 2010 for “assembly and colluding with the intention to commit crimes against the country’s national security and propaganda against the Islamic Republic.” Although facing a six-year prison sentence and twenty-year ban on making or writing any kind of movie, Panahi is a born storyteller, so he can’t stop himself, no matter the risks. Under house arrest, Panahi has his friend, fellow director Mojtaba Mirtahmasb (Lady of the Roses), film him with a handheld DV camera over ten days as Panahi plans out his next movie, speaks with his lawyer, lets his pet iguana climb over him, and is asked to watch a neighbor’s dog, taking viewers “behind the scenes of Iranian filmmakers not making films.” Panahi even pulls out his iPhone to take additional video, photographing New Year’s fireworks that sound suspiciously like a military attack. Panahi is calm throughout, never panicking (although he clearly does not want to take care of the barking dog) and not complaining about his situation, which becomes especially poignant as he watches news reports on the earthquake and tsunami disaster in Japan. “But you can’t make a film now anyhow, can you?” Mirtahmasb — who will later be arrested and imprisoned as well — asks at one point. “So what I can’t make a film?” Panahi responds. “That means I ask you to take a film of me? Do you think it will turn into some major work of art?” This Is Not a Film, which was smuggled out of Iran in a USB drive hidden in a birthday cake so it could be shown at Cannes, is indeed a major work of art, an important document of government repression of free speech as well as a fascinating examination of one man’s intense dedication to his art and the creative process. (After playing for two weeks at Film Forum, This Is Not a Film has moved to Cinema Village, where it opens March 16.)