Why Watch Foreign Films: A Man Called Ove

This was a Netflix DVD viewing. Back when I was still on Facebook, this was suggested as a good foreign film for my project. Having read another book the same author Fredrik Backman had done, I actually have this novel on a list somewhere as a to-be-read and recognized the title. I was a bit annoyed with at first, to be honest. How many stories are there already about crabby old white men, and do we really need another one? The early half of this film was very sour, very depressing (if you do end up watching, TW: suicide[s]), and overall didn't do much to engage me other than to remind me of a very similar crabby old dude, Norwegian not Swedish, who used to come into the Blockbuster Video I worked at in Uptown apparently just to leave his car directly in the through area of the parking lot and to yell at everyone. However. The film definitely shifted in mood and depth once Ove's younger years were explained, and I ended up in a puddle of tears by the end of it. 

A Man Called Ove, 2015. d. Hannes Holm

Written by Hannes Holm (screenplay) and Fredrik Backman (novel)

Starring: Rolf Lassgård, Bahar Pars, Filip Berg

Summary: Ove, an ill-tempered, isolated retiree who spends his days enforcing block association rules and visiting his wife's grave, has finally given up on life just as an unlikely friendship develops with his boisterous new neighbors. (via IMDB)

Like I said, we've all experienced stories of crabby old people being crabby, having crabby interactions with other people who just sort of tolerate the crabby person's crabbiness as some sort of endearing quirk, and honestly, I do feel like it's overdone (see: All Clint Eastwood). The bigger picture here of course is that many people also live lives that have been ripe with disappointment and loss, and that while we (as viewers) may not agree with someone's constant crabbiness and mistreatment of others, we are able to understand that disappointment and loss will shape someone's worldview and learn not to judge so quickly. Hand-in-hand with this, we also see the negative effects of isolationism, learning that while we may never be able to stop the disappointment and loss that is inevitable in the human experience, we can embrace togetherness through relationships in order to help each other through these events. 

Shorter reaction: Ove (Rolf Lassgard) is unpleasant and treats people badly, but we eventually forgive him for this once we understand him better. Our getting to empathize with him coincides with Ove's own gradual thawing through his relationship with his neighbor, Parvaneh (Bahar Pars). 

The story itself isn't necessarily rooted in Swedish culture, it could well have taken place anywhere, really, but there are little bits of time and place that do stick out, adding to the viewing experience. The Swedish countryside is beautiful, shown several times during young Ove's car trips with his father, and the obsession over Saabs (NOT VOLVOS) is relatable for car folks, I'm guessing. The time and place makes a big difference when considering Ove's wife Sonja (Ida Engvoll), and her experiences as a special education teacher. There weren't any ramps for those who needed them and it was difficult for children to get their needs met before medicine and education recognized what those needs really were. It's good to see attention brought to the struggles of people who are disabled, just as it's good to see some visibility on immigration and homosexuality (despite his many other issues with people in his residence community, Ove praises Parvaneh for her strength and resiliency in having fled her native country and provides shelter for a young gay man whose father has kicked him out). It seems Ove's heart is good, he just would rather not show anyone. 

It's a wholesome, emotional story, perfect for a quarantined Thanksgiving. Give it a try. 

Why Watch Foreign Films? Pain and Glory

Pain and Glory, d. Pedro Almodovar, 2019.

This felt a lot like a modern-day Fellini film. Everything looked very beautiful, the moments of pain and light-heartedness went hand in hand, and every scene shouted art. I often wonder what items or experiences other people have from their childhood or coming-of-age years that they look back on and enjoy remembering; this film is a lovely reminder that we should do that, if we can.

Salvador Mallo (Antonio Banderas) is a gifted film director with several health issues that have kept him from exploring new work or interacting with the public. When one of his popular films gets remastered, he agrees to meet with the film's lead, Alberto Crespo (Asier Etxeandia), who he'd shunned for years after a falling out over the actor's heroin use. The two men connect over the exact act Mallo had judged Crespo for decades earlier (which Crespo calls, "chasing the dragon"), and under influence of the drug, Mallo begins a sort of retrospective review of his life and work. He not only begins writing again, but through Crespo's stage performance of his autobiographical essay, Mallo reunites with the love of his life, who inspires him even more. While many of his physical pains persist, Mallo continues his work honoring the people and experiences that shaped him as an artist.

The technical and thematic elements present in this film are equal parts skillful aesthetic and sentimentality. The colors, the landscapes, the interactions between characters, and even the graphics used early on in the film are all engaging and beautiful. The nostalgia and heartbreak shown in the film is best seen and not so much spoken of; this is such a writer's film, one that those of us who spend time wrapped up in our thoughts, reactions, and longing for past experiences will easily recognize. It was truly lovely to behold.

Pain and Glory is rated R for nudity and drug use and runs 1 hour 53 minutes. I got this as a recommendation via Twitter (thanks, LOSTie Laura!) and got the film itself through Netflix disk.

Why Watch Foreign Films? Le Grand Voyage

What a lovely, relevant film! There was a moment early on that I connected with completely, one that is apt to strike a chord with many parents, especially today. I won't spoil it, but it has to do with a cell phone and a garbage can. Even in 2004, the message was clear . . . why didn't we listen?

Le Grand Voyage (The Great Journey) is a 2004 French production written and directed by Ismael Ferroukhi, filmed across multiple locations and spoken in both French and Moroccan Arabic. Part road trip, part religious awakening, the film travels across ten different countries as a devout father (Mohamed Majd) attempts to reconnect with his indifferent son, Reda (Nicolas Cazale).

As Reda is somewhat at odds with his father at the film's start, he is reluctant to drive to Mecca for this pilgrimage; his attention is directed at his phone, his upcoming school exams, and his non-Muslim girlfriend. He wonders aloud several times why his father doesn't just fly to Saudi Arabia. In disagreement for many of the first days, Reda and his father really don't seem to get along very well: deciding when to sleep, where to stop, and whether or not to pick up hitch-hikers is a continual cause for friction between the pair, and many scenes are spent in brooding silence. As Mecca draws closer and Reda begins to actually listen to his father, he realizes that his father's devotion, not only to his faith but to Reda and much of humankind, is heartfelt and remarkable.

Despite many moments of silence and awkwardness between father and son early on in the film, the music choices keep us from becoming impatient with their interactions together. Often playing is a simple progression of piano or orchestral chords that seem to swell at just the right moments but never take away from the emotion (or lack thereof) of the characters. Reda's father often breaks away with his rug to pray, but this act takes on an entirely new, profound meaning once they near Mecca; one voice joins with many others, the call to prayer and the resulting chants are heard fully and clearly over the landscape, becoming its own beautiful soundtrack. The physical landscapes themselves are varied and interesting, (lowlands, snow, deserts) and many times we are left wondering which country they've entered until a city is named or a new language is spoken. The journey itself while impressive in length and grandeur, seems in the end to be no less important than the distance the two men travel, emotionally, and this makes it a film for the ages.

Parents and children, be patient with each other. Time goes faster than you think it will.

Le Grand Voyage is 108 minutes and is unrated. I obtained a copy of this film through Netflix DVD. 

Why Watch Foreign Films? Run Lola Run

I missed out on this film a few times, first in the theater (where it would no doubt have been amazing) and second, when my husband watched it on video. I was cross stitching something on the couch that was positioned to the immediate right of the television so I could hear what was going on as he watched but couldn't really see anything. I knew enough German to make out some of the things being said (was ist den los? was hat passiert? scheiss-Manni, hunderttausend, die Tasche, zwanzig Minuten) but by the time I realized I was interested in the film I had missed too much and I made him start it over from the beginning. It became one of my very favorites and to this day, still is.

It's difficult to put the first time viewing experience into words, but for me it was like taking a hit of a really euphoric kind of stimulant . . . everything looked, sounded, and felt amazing. Lola's Kool-Aid red hair. The energy of all the running. Manni's ink. The cleverness of how the story is told as a narrative and through its editing. And the music. This soundtrack (with Franka Potente herself performing many of the selections) is a techno masterpiece that perfectly embodies the energy and emotion of the film. It's what I listen to when I need to channel serious inspiration or motivate myself to exercise (lately the only place I've been able to find it is YouTube). Give it a listen if you like high energy German techno.

After Lola (Franka Potente) receives an upsetting phone call from her boyfriend Manni (Moritz Bleibtreu), she has twenty minutes to pull together one hundred thousand dollars to cover his slip-up with his shady employer. As Manni plans to rob a nearby store, Lola thinks maybe her banker father might be good for the money so she runs. For nearly the entire film. Down stairs, over bridges, across streets, and into traffic. While she's running, she meets people who become . . . influenced by their interactions with her and whose narratives are also affected. Lola reaches her father, who happens to be dealing with his own troubling situation with a mistress, but things don't go well. She runs to Manni, who's gone ahead with his robbery plan, and things don't go well there, either, effectively ending the story. All those people, all those decisions, and yes, all that running affect Lola and the way she experienced the events, but don't assume this means that it's over. It's very much not.

The technical elements that went into making this film a success are interesting and easily noticed. Lola is filmed from many different positions, and these often shift with the beat of the music or repetition of lines of dialog. Images are quickly cut in to show thoughts or ideas; when Lola wonders who she can ask for money, each person's image flashes as she says his or her name just as different international postcards flicker with each suggestion Manni has of where the man from the train might have fled with the hundred thousand dollars. It's busy, but fun, and the style persists throughout.

Lola is also given the honor of having the scenes from her story largely shot on film; the supporting characters' scenes are shot on low-res/video and come off as lighter, grainier, and overall less sharp than anything that concerns Lola, alone. We don't need this difference in style to know Lola is the most important, but it makes for nice variety and keeps things moving along at a quick clip by giving us consistent styles for the changes in setting and characters. The music (composed by director Tom Tykwer), again, is vital to this story's impact. In a race against time, how better to remind us of a ticking clock than a collection of pounding techo beats that carries on throughout the film? Clocks are shown, buttons are pushed, canes are tapped, and all these things combine well with the beat of the music to show us that throughout all the running and all the human interactions, the percussion of the second hand (or its microbeat) tirelessly keeps going. Kinda like Lola. 

Honestly, there's no burning need to discuss deeper meaning in this film (although I'm gonna do it anyway), it's a great experience on its own completely as a take-it-as-it-is movie. However, the persistence of time and feelings of young energy do come up a lot and are worth mentioning. Lola and Manni are shown to be somewhat recklessly in love, living lives that contrast significantly with the troubles we see briefly in the older adult characters. Mama is at home in a bathrobe talking with who, some love interest? Papa spends his time working at the bank and has impregnated Jutta Hanson from the board of directors. Adult problems, yes, but boring ones! Notice the couple's tattoos, the row of Barbie dolls, and the turtle in Lola's room. Lola and Manni are vibrant and rebellious and they make us want to be, too. The music, the running---it's like pure adrenaline!

Is Tykwer suggesting anything to us in regard to love, energy, or the passage of time? I think he is. I left the girl-saves-the-boy theme alone (you're welcome, because I could have written the whole thing about that, entirely), but there's some classic girl power mixed in with all this that shouldn't be ignored. Certainly we can't all solve all of our problems by running, especially not now, today, but in taking action and refusing to yield when things seem hopeless? Lola's deeds still hold up.

Run Lola Run (Lola Rennt) is a German film and was released in 1998, directed by Tom Tykwer. Run Lola Run is rated R for some violence and language and runs 120 minutes.

Why Watch Foreign Films? Parasite

Welcome to the Why Watch Foreign Films project! The idea of reviewing foreign films came to me after observing several confusing twitter comments made by users who couldn't understand why Hulu was streaming Bong Joo-ho's multiple Oscar-winner, Parasite. I won't go into it, but the exchange was pretty ugly. In trying to understand why people might shy away from foreign films and going by what these comments stated outright I found that overall the issues are with subtitles and a general aversion to "otherness." Come on, people. We've got to be better than that.

While I'm not going to sit here and preach to you just how much we (as American adults!) are struggling with literacy and empathy in our nation right now, I will repackage the same message in a positive way and simply say that watching foreign films will make you a more intelligent, more compassionate human being and will expose you to a ton of unique stories you've been missing in life! If you enjoy history or travel, you also get the bonus of seeing international landscapes and cities while oftentimes learning about how wars, development, and current events have all shaped what's happening in these narratives. Our politics are not the only ones going on in the world. You'll hear languages other than English---this is a good thing (and so is reading). The music will be different, the food will be different, but not always; sometimes it will be familiar or nostalgic. Among difference there is also interconnectedness. No matter the country, the language, or the religion, many of these films also show just how far-reaching American influence can be, and how in a lot of ways, our struggles are very similar. Such is the case in Parasite. Meet our families:

THE KIMS (left to right): Ki-woo/Kevin, Ki-taek, Chung-sook, Ki-jung/Jessica

THE PARKS (top l-r to bottom l-r): Dong-ik, Da-hye, Yeon Kyo, Da-Song

The plot is quite simple. A poor family manages to manipulate a wealthy family into hiring them as domestic employees; things seem to go well until they don't. That's it! Many people I've spoken to about the film said that they enjoyed not knowing anything in advance about it, having little to no idea where it might lead (which is how I experienced it the first time). There's something to be said for that kind of experience, but I did find myself wishing I was a little clearer on everyone's names, which is why I included the two photos with labels above. The story itself doesn't ask much from its viewers, at least on the surface, but the technical elements that surround the narrative together with the subtle use of everyday objects and dialogs between characters speak very clearly to an underlying theme of violence or malevolence springing from social inequality. Don't worry about reasoning it all out while you're watching, chances are very good you'll be thinking about it quite a bit after the film's conclusion or even for days afterward. But, if you're interested, there's a lot of meaning and suggestion being thrown around in these scenes while the main events are happening. Consider:

Spaces: Contrast the enormity of the Park House with the Kim basement apartment. It's not just luxury in material possessions. Note the wide open spaces and who inhabits them compared with cramped quarters, clutter, and things like proximity to the waste (sewage) of others. It comes up a lot.
Music: Which family's experiences are shown as being worthy of accompaniment? What does the style of the music say about how they're portrayed as human beings?
Reveals: What (or who) comes out of the shadows? What are the lights showcasing? How are darks and lights used in general? What about blinking lights?
Objects: A scholar's rock, a pair of underwear, a peach, a birthday cake---how do they become evil or dangerous? Why is this not a typical horror film?
Dialogs: The Kims discuss whether or not they "fit in," which one of them fits in the easiest? How do casual comparisons to a cockroach or the association of smells contribute to the conclusion of the film? How do the characters themselves respond to not fitting in, are they sympathetic toward others down on their luck? Does the adaptability of fitting in or highly-developed street smarts carry any guarantees in the long run? Is the ending hopeful or cruel?

Very early on in the film there comes an exterminator that fumigates the outer area of the Kims' street but not the apartment itself. Because the bugs are also a problem inside the building, the Kims allow the fumes to come inside the windows as they themselves are blasted by the spray of chemical. To me, this spoke very clearly toward the title and how poor people are seen and portrayed before the sneaky stuff with the rich folks even got started. It's a smart and creepy film; give it a try, see what you think. Parasite is rated R for language, violence, and sexual content, runs 2 hours 12 minutes, and is currently available on Hulu.