Tense Drama
Jorun Gyllenband
The planet is Earth, of course, in the here and now. I don't mean to suggest that the film pretends to be science fiction or that it withholds this information. It doesn't. It starts off feeling like a low-key drama about disaffected young people the likes of which we've seen plenty before, only not with the stakes this high. I am trying to impart to my global-warming-denying, or just plain inexcusably complacent, GenX peers and elders that, in many ways that really matter, we are bequeathing to future generations a planet that is already intrinsically alien to human life as it has existed since we evolved into something like our current form.
The film draws inspiration from the Andreas Malm's 2021 book of the same name, which is not a novel but a nonfiction manifesto about how the time for nice gentle placid protest has passed, and it's time to violently let the fossil-fuel industry know that their vampire-capitalist BS is no longer welcome. So all the characters here are invented for the film, played by a deliciously diverse array of fab young actors: Ariela Barer (who also co-wrote the script), Forrest Goodluck, Jayme Lawson, Sasha Lane, Marcus Scribner. We can see (without the film being an infodump) that, for the most part, these young people from nonwhite backgrounds have not been served well by the supposed American dream. So they plan to blow up an oil pipeline in Texas.
Pipeline is a heist drama, and an incredibly tense and intense one. But this is a movie that transcends mere entertainment, even while it is incredibly entertaining. It is about young people who are enormously desperate and have nothing to lose because their elders have specifically engineered a cultural and physical environment that makes them desperate. "We don't have time for divestment," one of the kids says.
Rosamund Lupton takes us behind those headlines to examine the reactions of people caught up in a similar attack. Hour by hour we share the fears of the students and staff trapped at the Cliff Heights school; the anxiety of parents waiting for news and the frustrations of police officers tasked with ending the siege without further bloodshed.
In the midst of their fear lies bewilderment about the identity and the motivation of the gunmen. Are they terrorists or someone with a grudge against the school? Is the entire school the target or are the attackers after two pupils only: the brothers Rafi and Basi Bukhari, both Muslim refugees from Aleppo?
Three Hours illustrates how radicalisation can happen anywhere and how extremist groups prey on susceptible minds, using complex technology platforms to cloak their identities. By the time the attack is over, pupils, teachers and parents will have had their beliefs and trust put to the severest test.
But Rosamund Lupton also shows how love and courage prevail in the midst of danger and uncertainty. Some of the people involved find skills and strengths they never realised they had. Others discover who they truly are, what they believe in and for what they are willing to die.
The real hero of the school, and the epitome of selfless love is Rafi; the pupil who finds an explosive device in the school grounds, raises the alarm and shows the way to evacuate one building. The person who, warned by police advice that he might be a target, puts his life in danger to go in search of his younger brother missing in the woods.
All these factors mean Three Hours is an intense, riveting yet unsettling read. I suspect few parents with offspring still in the school system will read it and not experience a wave of anxiety.
Seeing Daihachi Yoshida's "The Scythian Lamb" for the second time at the Foreign Correspondents' Club of Japan, I was reminded of "Black Mirror," the British series with provocative "what if" scenarios set in an alternative present or near future. Yes, I am a binge-watcher.
Not that the film's provincial seaport is a "Black Mirror"-esque dystopia: As young city bureaucrat Hajime Tsukisue (Ryo Nishikido) keeps reminding us, the people are friendly and the seafood is delicious. But his boss tells him that the town's population is declining and fresh blood is needed. His bizarre solution: Secretly bring in six convicted murderers and parole them for a period of 10 years. If they stay clean they will be permanently freed.googletag.cmd.push(function() googletag.display('div-gpt-ad-1499653692894-0'); );
Based on a manga by Tatsuhiko Yamagami and Mikio Igarashi, this "what if" is a set-up for black comedy. But Yoshida, whose films seldom obey genre rules, stirs in elements of thriller, social drama and even kaijū (monster) action. Credulity is sometimes strained and the murderers' stories are not equally engaging, but the film goes unblinkingly into the darkness.
One of the few insights into the arts that managed to get through my thick skull and stay there decades after I left school is that the key to great drama is the suspension of disbelief. Something like that anyway.
In cold print it looks like a rather distasteful exercise, a very rich man playing a sort of god to the last three applicants out of the 8,000 who put themselves forward, all with no doubt strong if not heart-breaking arguments of their own. How can anyone exercise fair judgement between, as here, a single mum, a partially-sighted health worker or a family of Palestinian-Syrian refugees? To Robinson's great credit he offered the "losers" meaningful help with accommodation anyway, but the flat went to the lone parent Holly and her baby Beth, whose circumstances most resembled those of the young Marco.
The Midnight Company, and its artistic director, producer, frequent playwright and performer Joe Hanrahan, is quite possibly the busiest theater company in town. The fact the company has managed to add a full-length, full-scale production of The Lion in Winter to its season is remarkable. That the production is a riveting, mesmerizing drama with exceptional performances is profound.
INSTITUTE - A powerful courtroom drama about one person standing alone for her belief is the message delivered by the middle and high school students when this weekend Sevastopol School presents its spring play, "12 Angry Jurors."
The plays is based on the 1954 teleplay "12 Angry Men" by Reginald Rose, who then adapted it for stage and a 1957 movie of the same name. The movie, starring Henry Fonda and Lee J. Cobb, was and still is considered one of the all-time classic courtroom dramas and maintains a 100-percent score at RottenTomatoes.com. Sherman Sergel adapted the play into the current "12 Angry Jurors."
Amy Ensign directs a cast that features middle school students Bea Dramm, Cole Albertson, Riley Andersson and Owen Ensign-Foulds; and high schoolers Emma Schleicher, Lexie Henkel, Gavin Andersson, Lizzie Fiscus, Kaitlyn Schauske, Natalie Meikle, Bennett Rabach, Lamyra Adams and Mikkel Phillips. Carrie Mulrain is the assistant director.
Wall Street films have traditionally been raucous affairs, featuring bankers, investors, fund managers, and traders as hedonistic party boys. If a woman showed up, she'd be there to take shorthand or to strip. Sometimes both.
It's all the more reason to celebrate director Meera Menon's second feature, "Equity," an intensely intelligent, well-written, and mature exploration of the unwritten rules women have to follow if they want to succeed in high finance.
Billed as "the first female-driven Wall Street movie," "Equity" is the brainchild of two actor-producers: Sarah Megan Thomas and Alysia Reiner ("Orange Is the New Black"), who cowrote the original story after conducting extensive interviews with women who work in the financial industry.
A subtle piece of drama that feels like a quieter, less-madcap version of "Mad Men," "Equity" attempts to capture the female Wall Street experience through sustained portraits of three women. Strong and capable, each has to make serious sacrifices to get ahead in the world. One sacrifices the opportunity to have a family; another, her moral scruples; the third, any chance of an inner life.
"Breaking Bad's" Anna Gunn is superb as Naomi Bishop, an experienced investment banker in her 40s who specializes in reeling in tech firms to hire her bank as the underwriter for their IPOs. It takes a little work to warm up to Naomi, who seems so guarded, aloof, and imperious as to be unapproachable.
Erin seems more well-rounded: She has a nice husband at home. And in a nerve-racking early scene, we find out she's pregnant. She knows that for female executives, taking maternity leave is career suicide: Once you're out, they'll never have you back.
Equity sometimes feels like a social-dynamics textbook, but the characters are well-drawn and compelling. The action hinges on Naomi's bid to land a social media company run by a snot-nosed, sexist young turk. The process will lead each woman to the brink of corruption.
Armed with this knowledge, cameraman Mark MacEwen and I spent every waking hour with the troop for over a month. These highly intelligent and entertaining characters, became our daily companions. They sat with us in the shade, groomed our hair, raided our bags, inspected the cameras and generally kept Mark and I on our toes.
It was hard to watch - the mother's distress was clear, but she was powerless to act because of her low rank. With no idea of what the outcome would be, we filmed the whole thing with our hearts in our mouths.
Luckily, after what seemed like an eternity, mum finally managed to get her baby back and we could all breathe a huge sigh of relief. It was a dramatic and fascinating insight into the complex social lives of these monkeys.
c80f0f1006