The film has two parts to it. In the first part Benigni, who also co-wrote the script with Vincenzo Cerami, plays Guido, a waiter working for his uncle who owns a hotel in Italy. He keeps bumping (literally) into his principessa Dora (Nicoletta Braschi). By staging an elaborate (and humourous!) series of events which make it appear as if the Virgin Mary herself is cooperating with him, Guido rescues Dora from marrying the stodgy town clerk. Life appears to be going fairly well for Guido even though Mussolini has just signed a pact with Hitler to implement his Nazi policies with regards to Jews. Flash forward five years later and we see Guido owning a bookstore he manages with his wife and son Giosué. It's almost the end of World War II, but that makes the position of Jewish-Italians all the more precipitous. One day, the Germans come to take away Guido and his son. His wife, not being Jewish, chooses to go along.
Right from the start, Guido takes a huge risk by treating the whole exercise as a joke. He explains to his son that they've just bought tickets to take part in a contest to win a tank (not a toy one, but a real one, the thought of which lights up Giosué's eyes) and proceeds to concoct an imaginative and humorous explanation for the happenings around, and to, them in the German concentration camp.
All of the things Guido asks Giosué to do are in the interest of saving Giosué. However, given Guido's personality depicted in the first half of the film, I don't think he could've acted differently even if he wanted to. While the first part of the movie illustrates Benigni's talents as a slapstick comedian, some of the best humor is in the German camp. Here, Guido is not only funny to his son (and the audience), but he must also eke out humor in situations where people's lives are at stake. We see Guido making a joke out of a German officer's instructions to the prisoners---a situation where a misunderstanding on the part of the prisoner could lead to their deaths.
When I first heard about the Italian movie Life Is Beautiful ("La Vita e Bella"), I was shocked to discover that it was a comedy about the Holocaust. The articles that appeared in the papers bespoke of many that found even the concept of the Holocaust portrayed as a comedy to be offensive. Others believed that it belittled the experiences of the Holocaust by inferring that the horrors could be ignored by a simple game. I, too, thought, how could a comedy about the Holocaust possibly be done well? What a fine line the director (Roberto Benigni) was walking when portraying such a horrible subject as a comedy.
Life is Beautiful caused more than a little controversy when it was released: any attempt to make comedy out of the Holocaust is going to inspire strong reactions from critics and audience members. Love it or loathe it, Life is Beautiful inarguably made an international star out of Italian comedian Roberto Benigni, who wrote, directed, and starred in it. One of his country's most celebrated comedians, Benigni was previously known for his work in numerous Italian comedies, as well as Johnny Stecchino and Jim Jarmusch’s Down By Law and Night on Earth. Life is Beautiful's Grand Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival, followed by Benigni's Best Actor Oscar and acceptance speech (in exuberant, skillfully broken English), made Benigni possibly Italy's most famous export since the Fiat. Although some viewers found the film's second half, set almost entirely in a concentration camp, to be well-meaning but misguided, the film's first half is indisputably enjoyable.
Revolving around the courtship of an aristocratic lady nicknamed the Principessa by Benigni's Guido, it makes a refreshing, elegantly hilarious love story. Somewhat ironically, the film's wittiest and most accurate commentary on fascism and religious oppression is contained here, rather than in the concentration camp setting. Benigni’s comedy here becomes a tool for side-splitting yet razor-sharp criticism, and this first section powerfully establishes the reality of everyday life disrupted by the war.
An amoral teenager develops an unexpected paternal side in this powerful drama from South Africa. Tsotsi (Presley Chweneyagae) is the street name used by a young Johannesburg delinquent who has taken to a life of crime in order to support himself. Tsotsi comes from a blighted upbringing -- his mother died slowly from AIDS-related illnesses, and his father was torturously abusive -- and he has developed a talent for violence borne of necessity as well as taking strange pleasure in hurting other people. One evening, Tsotsi shoots a woman while stealing her car, and only later discovers that her infant son is in the back seat. Uncertain of what to do with the baby, Tsotsi takes the boy home and tries to care for it -- going so far as to force Miriam (Terry Pheto), a single mother living nearby, to nurse the baby. With time, Tsotsi learns the basics of child care, and the presence of the baby awakens a sense of humanity in him that life on the street had stripped away.
When we first meet the South African teen known as Tsotsi (not an actual name but a generalizing slang term meaning “thug” or “gangster”), he is about to make the leap from simple hooligan to something far more sinister; yet as the story unfolds, the viewer gradually discovers that his tale is a bit more complicated than it first appears.
What’s so powerful about this film is that we do see the change in Tsotsi. Maybe we don’t see the complete change, and maybe this change just won’t take. But we see the start of it. And while his deeds in his past are extremely unforgivable, we see how a spiraling series of events can start the wheels of change.
With Tsotsi, writer/director Gavin Hood has achieved the rare feat of presenting a character whose quick temper and cold exterior make him easy to fear in the opening scenes, and gradually providing the audience with the backstory needed to understand that those components of his personality are but a small part of a much larger picture painted by the tragedy and sadness of his harsh childhood. We are all a product of our youth, and Tsotsi's youth was one of death, poverty, and abuse.
One of the biggest scenes in the film that really got to me, emotionally, was when Tsotsi follows Morris, the old beggar in the wheelchair, into a dirty alley alone at night. Morris thinks he’s trying to rob him, so he defends himself, but he can’t hide his vulnerability. Tsotsi follows him because Morris spat at him and insulted him after Tsotsi tripped over him, which Morris obviously took out of disrespect. Once the old man starts to cry, you can feel what he feels emotionally. It is more saddening when Tsosti tells Morris his story about the dog getting kicked twice. I think Morris did that only because he wanted to prove that he can still be a strong man, even though he is now a cripple. Even though he was a man in a wheelchair, he still wanted to be that man who worked in the gold mines until he became permanently crippled when a beam fell on his legs. I didn’t like that Tsosti kicked the box full of money, and left the old man, without picking it up for him!
This film won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film, and it is well deserved. Though the story is at times predictable and occasionally crosses the line into sappy sentimentality, effective performances and believable motivations allow the viewer to become involved in the proceedings in a manner that lends the film a convincing element of believability. On the visual front, cinematographer Lance Gewer's crisp cinematography serves well to highlight the stark contrast between the decayed shantytown in which Tsotsi survives and the modern comforts of the nearby city where there still remains a glimmer of hope.
Director Majid Majidi's touching children's film tells a story of innocence, heartbreak, and determination so well that it may in time be regarded as a classic of the genre.
Set in Majidi’s native Tehran, Children of Heaven is the story of a brother and sister, Ali and Zahra. The film opens with Ali (Mohammad Amir Naji) sitting beside a shoemaker who is repairing a tiny pair of worn shoes. Ali then carries the shoes to a fruit market, leaving them outside the door while he searches through the discarded cartons the vendor has pointed to. It’s not an irresponsible act; Ali is simply being practical. It's a small shop. He must pick through the fruit, and he can't do that while he's holding the bag containing the shoes. A man comes along with a cart and asks the vendor if he can haul off the empty cartons. The vendor nods, and the man picks up everything outside the shop, including the bag containing the shoes. We soon learn that the shoes belong to Zahra (Mir Farrokh Hashemian), Ali’s sister. The family, whose poverty makes it necessary for the children to bear many adult responsibilities, is behind on the rent for their tiny, one-room apartment. The children's father, who is employed in an office, would have to borrow to buy Zahra another pair of shoes, but without the shoes Zahra can’t go to school. So the children come up with their own solution: Since Ali and Zahra go to school at different times, they decide to share Ali’s equally worn sneakers. The entire film is about that bargain, and the compromises it requires of the children.
After much pondering, Ali devises a plan to give his sneakers to Zahra so that she may continue her studies; this results in Ali being late for school while he waits for Zahra to come back and give him the shoes. At last they manage to reach a plan to use these shoes one after the other. The whole movie revolves around this inexpensive footwear which is not of much significance to countless others, but it is to these two children. To Zahra, it was disgraceful to wear sneakers in a girl’s school where others like her were wearing fancy colorful shoes. Her brother Ali understands the naive feelings of his sister and promises to bring new shoes for her someday.
Movies about children for adult audiences are rarely commercial successes. Narrative films such as Mike Newell’s Into the West and John Sayles’ The Secret of Roan Inish, and experimental ones like the Australian film, The Quiet Room, by writer/director Rolf DeHeer, are only a few recent examples. That’s because, for all our expressed concern about the lives of children, we still fail to accept the fact that they have spiritual lives not very different from our own, and that they suffer as profoundly and as deeply as we do. More examples would be Steven Spielberg’s movies made for children and families, like ET: The Extra-Terrestrial, The Goonies, and Hook.
Majid Majidi’s Children of Heaven has recently become Iran’s first-ever Oscar nominee for Best Foreign Language Film; it is both an inspiring and a dispiriting event. On the one hand, Iran has been turning out a startling number of accomplished and striking films for the past decade, and the past five years especially. To see the country recognized by the Academy is a cause for great joy among those who have been swept up by the country's film output.
An Israeli agent with a license to kill is thrown off his game by two people who challenge his deeply held beliefs in this drama. Eyal (Lior Ashkenazi) is an agent with Mossad, the Israeli intelligence and security force. A man capable of making snap moral judgments but unwilling to reveal his emotions, Eyal has been burying himself in his often bloody work since the death of his wife. Eyal's latest assignment is to try to learn the whereabouts of a Nazi war criminal; as it happens, his granddaughter Pia (Carolina Peters) is in Israel spending time on a kibbutz, and when he learns that her brother Axel (Knut Berger) is coming to visit her, Eyal goes undercover as a tour guide in order to get to know them without arousing suspicion. Eyal finds himself taken with Pia, who displays a warmth and openness he's never expected to find in a German. At the same time, Eyal discovers Axel is gay and doesn't care who knows about it, and as Eyal gets to know him he finds himself torn between his genuine fondness for Axel and his long-standing homophobia. Walk on Water was directed by Eyton Fox, who earned international acclaim for his story about two gay men in the Israeli army, Yossi & Jagger.
After the suicide of his wife, conservative Mossad agent Eyal is put on “light duties” — confirming the existence of a Nazi in hiding who may be about to surface. The way in is through his grandchildren, and posing as a tour guide for grandson Axel as he visits granddaughter Pia. Eyal gradually warms to the new generation of Germans — even when he belatedly realizes that Axel is openly gay.
Irony abounds in Walk on Water. Eyal's distrust of all things German was ingrained in him by his survivor mother. He is challenged directly by Axel, who two generations after Eyal's own grandfather sent an entire community to the death camps, is not only openly gay (making him a potential target of Neonazis), but also as disgusted as Eyal himself by the ideology of the Third Reich (and by his own grandfather).
The uniformly excellent performances feel real and familiar, while the handheld camerawork only occasionally becomes intrusive. There’s also a slightly clunky fight sequence, but it’s brief and does not detract from the film. The themes of revenge and redemption feel justified, and whether you find the military coda appropriately optimistic or just plain convenient will be a matter of taste. Despite the very optimistic ending, this film is moving, interesting and compelling viewing with superb performances.