Kaarina Hazard stars as a recently released prisoner trying to put her life back together in Finnish film LETTERS TO FATHER JACOB
LETTERS TO FATHER JACOB (POSTIA PAPPI JAAKOBILLE) (Klaus Härö, 2009)
Cinema Village
22 East 12th St.
Opens Friday, October 8
212-924-3363
www.cinemavillage.com
www.ses.fi
Upon suddenly being pardoned after serving twelve years of a life sentence, Leila Sten (Kaarina Hazard) is offered a position as personal assistant to an elderly blind priest, Father Jacob (Heikki Nousiainen). A hard-edged woman not wanting anyone’s help, Leila has nowhere else to turn, so she accepts the job, although she’s determined to not make it easy for Father Jacob and insists she will be there for only a short time. But Father Jacob, who lives by himself in the country, far from anyone else, is not seeking a housekeeper or a nursemaid; instead, he merely requires Leila to read the letters he receives every day from people in need of a little hope and guidance, asking him to say a prayer for them. Father Jacob then dictates responses for Leila to write down and mail back to his epistolary flock. At first Leila simply throws some of the letters away, but as she warms to the kind, frail priest, she takes another look at her own life and is not sure she likes what she sees. Written and directed by award-winning Finnish filmmaker Klaus Härö (MOTHER OF MINE, ELINA: AS IF I WASN’T THERE), LETTERS TO FATHER JACOB is a gentle, moving story of faith and redemption. Cinematographer Tuomo Hutri shoots many of the interior scenes using only natural light, the characters mostly hidden in dark shadows. Dani Strömbäck’s piano-based score contributes to the slow pace and somber mood of a film that builds like steeping tea toward an emotionally powerful conclusion.
When her parents and older brother go to Africa without her, an unnamed ten-year-old girl (Blanca Engström) must grow up fast in her small Swedish hometown. The girl was supposed to travel with her family to help people in need in Africa, but when it is discovered at the very last minute that she is too young, her mother (Annika Hallin) and father (Shanti Roney) decide to head out on their mission anyway, leaving their daughter in the hands of the mother’s untrustworthy sister, Anna (Tova Magnusson-Norling), who drinks and parties a lot and soon takes off to spend time with her lover, leaving the girl alone. At first the girl is able to fend for herself, but as more time passes, troubles begin to build and danger awaits. Written by Karin Arrhenius and directed by first-timer Fredrik Edfeldt, THE GIRL is a compelling, unusual coming-of-age film; it is not about a girl exploring her burgeoning sexuality, nor is it the story of a shy girl emerging from her shell. Instead, it’s a moving, believable tale of one young girl learning that she’s not always going to be able to rely on adults, a harsh lesson for any child. Nearly all the grown-ups in the film, from her aunt and parents to one of her friend’s fathers (Leif Andrée), never fully understand the girl’s needs and wants, making wrong assumptions that result in far too much for her to handle on her own. Engström is mesmerizing as the young girl, often convincing the audience of her vast abilities until it once again becomes clear that she is only ten years old, a far cry from being able to take care of herself. THE GIRL is a small gem.
After playing film festivals around the world, Philippe Diaz’s THE END OF POVERTY? ran for one week last year at Village East and is now being rereleased at Cinema Village, bringing its critical take on the global financial crisis. Speaking with Nobel Prize winners, economists, writers, politicians, researchers, and other experts, Diaz attempts to get at the heart of international poverty — particularly by tugging at the audience’s heartstrings. He intercuts shots of talking heads discussing slavery and colonialism, the World Bank, the free market, the International Monetary Fund, and government bailouts with portraits of men, women, and children living in squalor in Africa, Latin America, the United States, and elsewhere. He supplements the film with a barrage of statistics that, individually, are infuriating but, taken as a whole, get lost in a whirlwind of numbers. Adding to the overkill is Martin Sheen’s over-the-top narration, which piles up yet more information and outrage. But even as the film sometimes feels like a Sally Struthers save-the-children infomercial, its crucial message does manage to pull through and take root — the money is out there, but its incredibly lopsided distribution in a warped system is basically set up to keep the imbalance that has led to such a tragic situation.