Movies of the weekend: “Empire of Light”, “Human Flesh Flowers” and “Tin & Tina”

“Empire of Light”: office of darkness

eduardo the gallant

There are films that link the demise of cinema—and the consequent death of its complex ritual of light and shadow—to the extinction of an era and the fatal mental wound of its characters. It is inevitable to think about it The last movie, Splendor or Cinema Paradisolooking at the protagonist kingdom of light, in charge of the temple—a large cinema, those that are no longer there—, keeper of the sacred fire, suffers from loneliness, heartbreak, depression and schizophrenia as the decay of the dream house where she worked for 25 years progresses. She recites TS Eliot’s poem: “This is how the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.”

Sam Mendes — like Spielberg from The Fabelmans— tells the story of her youth, based on a strong female portrait, paying tribute to her mother. We are in the last days of 1980 and the first days of 1981, in the tense, racist and classist England of Margaret Thatcher. On the south coast, overlooking the North Sea, the once opulent Empire cinema survives the storms of history. A very down-to-earth Olivia Colman stands out, in a role that reminds others of her career — before she became popular Crown or with Father—, passionate heroine tamed by lithium; he is the embodiment of touching gestural diversity, spiraling sadness, desperate elation, gluttony and apathy. And the little great secondary Toby Jones also shines, like a cinematographer explaining a craft that is pure liturgy and has already lost the sense of craftsmanship: “These are coals, their spark produces light, and without light there is only darkness.”

The film, interspersed with some useless interludes of unqualified secondary stories, nevertheless captures a beautiful patina of twilight melancholy — enhanced by Roger Deakins’ photography, clearly inspired by Edward Hooper — that will keep it alive in our memories.

“Human Flesh Flowers”: A Sensory Journey

SABELA CAPTURED

A woman lives on her ship with a crew of five men. At some point in Marseille, she becomes fascinated by the history of the French Foreign Legion, which is why she decides to sail to Algeria — passing through Corsica — in search of this myth. This plot synopsis helps you follow along Human flesh flowers (the title is as unusual as the film itself), although that may be the least of it. In an ambitious show, the German Helena Wittann writes, directs and photographs this unclassified and daring film, which is neither a reflection on colonialism nor an adventure film, but a collection of images, sometimes from dreams, of grandiose nature and some human beings who seem to float in a timeless limbo where time barely passes.

Because the time in this film is leisurely, very leisurely (an extended shot of a snail climbing a plate of fruit sums up the essence of its pace very well), and dialogue is very sparse. Wittmann creates a film of silence and ambient sounds, a contemplative and hypnotic experience in which the sea — which also possesses the refuge of life — is another protagonist. The camera is immersed in the blue of the sea in hypnotic underwater shots that contrast with the microscopic images, with a very graphic treatment of the images in a commitment to the visual versus the plot.

Human flesh flowers It is about reflexive cinematography that reflects itself, which translates into a film that is not easily digestible, but a visual experiment, an experience that appeals to the viewer’s senses and a film of atmosphere and sensation in which the said viewer has time to think about everything he sees. There is time, and a lot of it, the conclusions that everyone will reach will depend on what they choose to engage in this experience.

“HUMAN FLOWERS MADE OF MEAT”

Germany, 2022.

Director: Helena Wittmann.

Cast: Angeliki Papoulia, Ferhat Mouhali, Gustavo Jahn, Ingo Martens, Mauro Soares, Vladimir Vulević, Steffen Danek.

Drama. 106 min.

«Tin & Tina»: a pair of little angels

Miguel Anxo Fernandez

A careful exercise in formal style, from light and photography to the artwork as a whole, including indoor and outdoor locations and even using archival images from that year weaving, the arrival of González and the ubiquitous Spanish television. The perfect package for a horror proposition, enhanced by a camera with elegant, classic movements, which Rubin Stein remains with after a successful career as a short film maker, especially the first and self-titled one. Tin & Tina (2013). Among more than thirty international awards, it was nominated for the Golden Méliès for the best European fantasy short film, as well as screened at more than two hundred festivals. With such credentials, launching his first feature film seemed like a logical move, including an international co-production. As a product, full approval.

We are somewhere in Andalusia. A newly married couple is unfortunate enough to experience a miscarriage at the end of their wedding ceremony. A country house, with a classic layout and large spaces filled with gloomy light, collapses on a woman, and they decide to go to a religious institution in search of an orphan to adopt. They take two brothers, and they are advised by a nun dressed by Teresa Rabal, an icon of that unique television, but also an idol of the children’s audience thanks to numerous songs, some very popular, such as chinese super disco of Enrique and Ana that sounds at some point.

We have a feeling that nothing good can come out of such an extreme religious environment, which Stein is responsible for emphasizing with various shots. Even more so when he shows us a pre-adolescent couple, who are albino and look like they stepped out of Carpenter, City of the damned (one thousand nine hundred and ninety-five). The devil’s thing…

“TIN & TINA”

Spain, USA, Romania. in 2023

Director: Rubin Stein.

Performers: Milena Smit, Jaime Lorente, Carlos González Morollón, Anastasia Achikhmina, Teresa Rabal, Ruth Gabriel.

119 min.