Weekly Review -- Testing the limits

Compliance (2012) -- In 1961, Yale University psychologist Stanley Milgram conducted the infamous experiment that tested human behavior toward authority figures through simulated torture. Each participant was asked to administer electric shocks of varying degrees to a subject, if they provided wrong responses to a series of questions. During the first session, 65% of participants followed all of the experimenters' unscrupulous directives without referring to their own moral compass or exhibiting empathy toward the subject. This percentage was not much lower in later sessions, proving that human beings are incapable of mentally separating themselves from authority's grip.

Where is the line between law abiding and blind obedience? When does indisputable authority become veritable tyranny? How does the innate desire for conformity infringe upon our right to choose? Craig Zobel's darkly brilliant Compliance examines these issues through a tale that becomes more unsettling by the minute and that, frankly, makes the viewer lose faith in the human race.

**THIS REVIEW CONTAINS HUGE SPOILERS**

On a busy afternoon, fast food restaurant manager Sandra (Ann Dowd) receives a call from a man introducing himself as officer Daniels (Pat Healy). He informs her that a customer had filed a police complaint, stating that a young employee had stolen money from her purse earlier that day. When Sandra identifies the employee as Becky (Dreama Walker), Daniels instructs her to interrogate the girl, stating that he is currently unable to get there himself and that he will soon be sending a unit. Becky is adamant about her innocence, but Sandra and the other employees are determined to do the right thing, even as the officer's instructions become more abrasive and more humiliating...

If one looked up the definition of the term "sheep mentality", they would surely come upon Compliance. A study of human behavior at its most reprehensible, the film examines decision making under the influence of orders and, to an extent, under the duress of groupthink. The interrogation turns out to be a scam perpetrated by a random guy for kicks and the fact that the story is inspired by actual events only adds fuel to the fire. As the film informs us, there have been over 70 such incidents occurring in 30 U.S. states; this story was based on an April 2004 case. It boggles the mind that something this outrageous could ever have happened anywhere, that none of the people talking with the prankster ever used their brains and questioned his identity, hanging on to the "officer's" every word and fulfilling his every request. Why did almost everyone trust this man? Why did they feel that they were required to listen and obey, his commands hypnotizing them into absolute submission? We are conditioned from birth to comply with and respect authority, but does this conditioning automatically signify or, even worse, warrant losing our free will? Much like in Milgram's experiment, those who spoke with the hoaxer were paralyzed by the possibility of not doing the right thing and the idea of self-preservation, forgetting to think while aiming to please. It is a frightening notion, relinquishing moral instincts merely for the sake of doing what one is told; then again, millennia of warfare have proved that our species is no stranger to conflict as a consequence of following orders. 

On another note, it is interesting that Zobel chooses not to examine the role that class played in the pranks. All of the incidents occurred at fast food restaurants and grocery stores, meaning that none of them took place at specialized, higher learning establishments like universities or hospitals. Based on various historical examples, we can say without a shred of doubt that the level of education and economic standing affects the way we view and respond to authority figures. However, by not exploring this aspect and by setting the narrative in Anytown, USA, Zobel makes an important point, showing us the ubiquity of submissiveness and the scope of sheer inanity. 

The performances are stunning. Kudos goes to the actors who inhabited the roles, since being in the mindset of these characters must have been one of the most uncomfortable jobs they will ever have. Dowd gives a perfect performance. Her dim-witted, desperate Sandra is the epitome of a follower -- someone who has never made noise, who has never tried too hard, who has always been taught to be acutely aware of her place and not vainly attempt to change it. Dowd plays her with gusto and conviction, her tense exchanges with Walker a stark contrast to her timid exchanges with Healy. Walker's Becky traverses the most drastic arc, devolving from a rational and headstrong young woman to somebody with no voice whatsoever. Obviously aware that there was no theft, she is forced to go through a hellish ordeal to prove her innocence, experiencing a complete loss of control over her mind, body and autonomy in the process. Under the sway of mob mentality, she becomes a non-person and an entity for others to exploit at whim, and Walker's eyes and body language tell us more than words ever could. Healy creates one of the best villains in recent years. His weary voice and oblivious facial expressions conceal the full implications of this man's cruel actions, gradually betraying his cold sadism and disregard for fellow human beings. Daniels's conversations with Becky are pure agony and his reveal in the last conversation with Sandra is chilling. The rest of the cast are just as incredible, especially Philip Ettinger as the first employee to suspect that something is amiss and Stephen Payne as the first individual to put his foot down and do something to end the madness.

Compliance is one of the best films of 2012. It is a sharp, uncompromising analysis of people duped by the prospect of peril and overwhelmed by the shadow of power hanging over them like a storm cloud. As you watch it, you will be frustrated. You will shake your head in disbelief. You will yell at the TV. You will say NO.

If only they had done the same.

10/10

Weekly Review, pt. 2 -- Not quite so, ahem... taken

Taken 2 (2012) -- In 2008, director Pierre Morel and writer/producer Luc Besson created a sensation with the dynamic, take-no-prisoners Taken. Four years later, the franchise is in full swing, but, unfortunately, Olivier Megaton's sequel does not hold a candle to Morel's film, flailing both in terms of a plausible story and in terms of action sequences.

Following the events of Taken, retired CIA operative Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) is rebuilding relationships with daughter Kim (Maggie Grace) and ex-wife Lenore (Famke Janssen). When Lenore tells him that she and her husband are divorcing, Bryan takes her and Kim on what is supposed to be a relaxing holiday in Istanbul. The vacation takes a brutal turn when Bryan and Lenore are kidnapped by the father of one of the men that Bryan had killed in Paris. Now it is up to Kim to rescue her parents...

... which is one of the wildest plot developments that I have ever encountered and only one of the far-fetched elements that the film expects us to buy. Sure, the original was far from a documentary, but it possessed a sense of rushed excitement, a suspenseful script with a purpose and compelling characters we rooted for. It also managed to achieve something that not many blockbusters do, bringing the timely social issue of human trafficking into the mainstream. The sequel plays out like a cheap and empty vehicle to cash in on the success, dumbing down its characters and placing them in absurd predicaments, all the while experimenting with unnecessary violence and occasionally making us feel like we are watching a Saw installment. In fact, at times, it feels like a parody of Taken. When exactly did Kim become a superhero? Even when we realize that there is no one else to search for Bryan and Lenore at that moment, the sheltered daughter suddenly becoming Lara Croft is a stretch. Is no one paying attention to grenades exploding all over Istanbul? Anyone? Turkish police must not be too happy with the way the film portrays their efficacy. Why do the bad guys chasing Kim not simply use their guns to wound her and then snatch her? Because the film would have ended much sooner, that is why. Stealing clothes and looking suspiciously panicked turns out to be a nice method of blending in, by the way. Seriously, there is a fine line between suspension of disbelief and just, well... disbelief. As the first film had proved, action does not need to be mindless.

Even the action and fight scenes are not thought out, with this flaw affecting all of the performances. Neeson is great at this type of role, but here he does not get to use Bryan's resourcefulness that much. Instead, the film relies on shooting, more shooting, a couple of fistfights and some truly crazy driving, compounded by even crazier editing. All these scenes appear hurried, as though each one merely serves the purpose of moving the proceedings along to the next shootout. The actors appear to be at the mercy of the film's relentless pace, when the situation should be reversed. While Lenore is given some great new dimensions for the excellent Janssen to explore, the character is mostly pushed aside in favor of brawny kinetics. Grace manages to eschew her over-the-top acting style from the first film, but her role leaves a lot to be desired. Finally, veteran performer Rade Serbedzija seems to be wondering what he is doing here, making the best of his few cliché bad guy lines. Had the screenplay been darker and sharper, the dialogue about death that his character Murad has with Bryan would have packed more of an emotional punch. As it is, it sticks out like a sore thumb in a sea of bullets and explosions.  

Taken 2 is not what it should have been. It is not an eloquent film that cares about the figures involved or about the story it is telling. Rather, it is a frenetic, run-of-the-mill actioner, cranked out to bring in loads and loads of cash. Guess what? Taken 3 is in the works. One can only hope that logic is not the element that gets hijacked this time.  

5/10

Weekly Review, pt. 1 -- The darkness within

What is silence? It is often a belated form of knowledge, both restricted and restricting, but it can also be a force of nature and destiny, washing away the safe and the familiar with a single wave. This week, I am examining two very different kinds of cinematic silences and reflecting on their truth, as well as their consequences.  


Silent House (2011) -- Chris Kentis and Laura Lau, who frightened oblivious travelers out of their wits with Open Water, are back with this haunted house shocker. Based on an incident that allegedly took place in 1940s Uruguay, this film turns the genre staple upside down and spins a story full of surprises.

Sarah (Elizabeth Olsen), her father John (Adam Trese) and uncle Peter (Eric Sheffer Stevens) arrive at their lakeside property to fix it up for sale. Soon after Peter leaves to get tools, Sarah starts hearing strange noises around the old house and seeing people that could not possibly be there. When her father is badly injured by invisible attackers, Sarah attempts to find a way to get help, but finds herself unable to leave...

The beauty of Silent House lies in its deceptive simplicity and sense of underlying terror. From the moment Sarah arrives, the house looms like an intrusive entity, disrupting whatever the character's daily routine had been up until that point. It is truly the film's other principal character, lurking and menacing in the foreground of all proceedings. As Kentis and Lau had shown in Open Water, they are the current cinematic masters of minimalist spaces, utilizing light and camera angles rather than computer graphics to convey the essence of dread. Every room in the house is shot as a potential threat, its every nook and cranny brimming with secrets, with the light constantly falling prey to darkness. Much credit goes to Igor Martinovic's gloomy cinematography for giving the film's mysteries a visual identity. Kentis and Lau make good use of the country setting -- a driveway has never been so ominous -- as well as the claustrophobia that Sarah experiences. In this regard, I love the use of the camera flash in a certain sequence and can only imagine the effect that this scene would have when viewed on the big screen. The atmosphere of the piece reminded me of the 1971 gem Let's Scare Jessica to Death, its narrative also teetering between reality and illusion, truth and fiction. Silent House relies on the depiction of spaces that are void of color but offering danger at every turn, and it succeeds in transforming a house from a simple fixer-upper into sheer hell. 

On another note, the one part that felt gratuitous was the prolonged bathroom sequence. The situation had been set up already and there was absolutely no reason why we needed to see any gore or any details in general, for that matter. It felt out of context and did not fit the pace. Instead, I wish we had got to see more interactions between Sarah and Sophia (Julia Taylor Ross), since this relationship needed a richer arc in the story's context. 

As far as the acting goes, the film belongs to Olsen, who perfectly shows Sarah's fear, vulnerability and determination. She carries the tale on her capable shoulders and her final scenes are a sight to behold, to name but one example. Trese is very good as John, particularly in some later scenes, and Taylor Ross shows off different sides of Sophia, Sarah's childhood acquaintance.

Silent House is one of those rare genre pieces that place an emphasis on ambiance, the popularity of which has been eclipsed for a while by the likes of Saw and similar torture fests. Its old school vibe and earnest performances are the elements that earn the film its badge of honor and that make it stand out from a spate of new horror releases. Visit this house, but keep in mind that it can never be a home.

8/10

Perfect Sense (2011) --  Talk about a film that is difficult to process. An original allegory on the meaning of love in a world of nearly literal emptiness, this David McKenzie piece makes for an amazing discussion topic, but fails in terms of any discernible subtlety.

Epidemiologist Susan (Eva Green) and chef Michael (Ewan McGregor) meet at the onset of a global pandemic that is robbing people of their senses. Smell is the first thing to go, then taste, hearing and so on. In the midst of a horrific outbreak, caught up in a corporeal apocalypse that is sure to end the world as they know it, can Susan and Michael's love last, or even count?

I found the film to be a curious balancing act, struggling to achieve equilibrium between its uniqueness and its awkwardness. On to the engaging elements first. The film posits a provocative hypothesis about things that make life worth living, playing like an existentialist primer along the way. What is smell? What is sight? What do we, as humans, end up requiring when our methods of interpreting the universe start crumbling? Can emotions substitute the physical tools that we use to absorb experiences and relate to people? As the film attempts to show, our humanity can be equally measured in the seen and the felt; still, when push comes to shove, it is only the conveyed thought that leaves an imprint. The scene toward the ending showing Susan with her sister illustrates this sentiment especially well, telling us that dialogue is always possible, if far from easy. Furthermore, with all of its faults, this tale is a beautiful metaphor for our view and definition of communication in the second decade of the 21st century. Are all of our senses not being dulled day after day, text after text, beep after beep? Are we not continuously forgetting about needing to talk to people, rather than dispatching yet another electronic missive? Are we not causing this breakdown of faculties ourselves, foolishly wondering what the cause might be and how we should categorize the "disease"? We have been ill for a long time, but have yet to realize it, and the tale asks us to stop and think about our predicament, without even remotely judging our behavior.

Now on to the bad aspects. The main problem with Perfect Sense is the screenplay's utter lack of subtlety. Some might argue that this quality might be elusive, considering the plot, but the film truly hammers the point home. While the dramatic script should have been the film's greatest strength, its blindness to nuances turns it into the film's greatest hindrance. Yes, we know that Michael -- he who needs to sleep alone to get a good night's rest -- will end up being able to sleep next to Susan. Yes, we know that Susan, burned by men and scarred by cynicism, will find The One in -- surprise, surprise -- Michael. Director McKenzie and screenwriter Kim Fupz Aakeson frequently choose to substitute a delicate touch with heavy-handed exchanges and imagery, hoping that we will not notice. Also, while a romcom ending is obviously not the desired conclusion, I sure wish that there was a better resolution to the story, because the proceedings leave the viewer hollow. The narrative asks too many questions and demands that the audience become emotionally invested, without providing a payoff of any kind.

The acting is excellent. As Susan, Green is a picture of angry vulnerability. Her character experiences the deepest emotions under the most impossible of circumstances, simultaneously embracing and rejecting the connection to a man that seems to be her polar opposite. The only facet of her personality that I found unbelievable were her complaints about her love life as the entire planet was falling apart -- priorities, people, priorities. McGregor's character's evolution is more organic, slowly transcending the path from a carefree lothario to a man desperate for a single touch to make him whole. He has some outstanding scenes, namely the one in which Michael starts raging maniacally at Susan under the influence of a symptom, realizing immediately after the rant what he has just lost. Stephen Dillane and Connie Nielsen also offer strong performances as Susan's boss and sister, respectively. Nielsen in particular is tasked with presenting a portrait of warmth, a stark contrast to the detached Susan, and the two actors create interesting scenes between two very different siblings, scenes that grow more poignant as the epidemic spreads.

It has to be said that Perfect Sense does not exactly make perfect sense. As a philosophical commentary, it is capable of provoking endless debate, posing fascinating questions regarding identity and connection. However, as a dramatic piece, it uses its intriguing themes as a soapbox, yelling out its points as loudly as it can. Unable to reconcile its symbolism with its entertainment value, Perfect Sense is not so much a missed opportunity as it is a lost cinematic soul.
  
6/10