Sound of Hope review: Choosing to make a difference

Set in East Texas in 1999, Sound of Hope: The Story of Possum Trot shows how spiritual values helped persuade the people in a rural community to adopt 77 children languishing in the state foster system. Based on a true story, the movie tells its story with a compelling sense of honesty and realism.

Reverend W.C. Martin (Demetrius Gross) leads the Bennett Missionary Baptist church, a small but devoted parish, helped by his wife Donna (Nika King) and other congregants. At home the Martins struggle with bills while raising their children Ladonna (Kaysi J. Bradley) and Princeton (Taj Johnson).

The loss of her mother Murtha (Della Golden), who raised 18 children, brings Donna to the realization that she wants to adopt a child. W.C. worries they can’t afford the additional expenses, but Donna goes ahead after meeting Susan Ramsey (Elizabeth Mitchell), a liaison with the foster system.

The script by Joshua Weigel (who also directed) and Rebekah Weigel at times shifts to separate story lines. One involves Terri (Diaana Babnicova), a troubled orphan who has isolated herself in a dream world. Another follows young Mercedes (Aria Pulliam) and Tyler (Asher Clay), siblings who have been abused by their mother.

Over W.C.’s misgivings, Donna brings Mercedes and Tyler into her home. The experience, while not without problems, is so enriching that W.C. convinces his congregation that they should adopt as well. W.C. insists to Susan that he wants to take the foster system’s most difficult cases.

One of those is Terri, who disrupts the Martin family when she arrives. She throws tantrums, steals from her sister, and sneaks out of the house. Sessions with a therapist don’t seem to help. As incidents escalate, Donna finds herself questioning both her husband and her faith.

As director, Joshua Weigel takes a low-key approach to the story. Scenes are staged simply, but with respect for the characters and with honesty about their events. The subplots aren’t always crucial to the movie’s main messages, and supporting characters can sometimes feel shortchanged, shoehorned into a story that’s really about something else.

However, the heart of the movie — the conflicts between W.C. and his wife, between Terri and her new parents, between Susan and foster parents — feel genuine, not artificially pumped up. Moments of catharsis and bonding are similarly understated (apart from Sean Johnson’s occasionally pointed score).

The movie’s lessons may seem too obvious at times, but they are delivered with a disarming sincerity. The performances in particular help lift Sound of Hope up from mere preaching. Demetrius Gross is excellent as Reverend Martin, a strong, domineering presence who is still capable of sensitivity. Nika King as his wife Donna has the most demanding role, called upon to be jubilant or dismayed or bewildered about her children’s behavior.

Diaana Babnicova may be the real find here. Nothing in the script phases her, whether she’s asked to explode in a screaming rage or confront doubts about her sanity. Babnicova gives in to the role without judging Terri, earning viewers’ sympathy the hard way, without asking for it.

This is the latest release from Angel Studios, the Utah-based company that released the controversial Sound of Freedom and the unexpectedly solid biopic Cabrini. In addition, Angel partnered with The Daily Wire (co-founded by Ben Shapiro) to distribute the movie theatrically. That move caused executive producer Letitia Wright to announce that she has no affiliation with The Daily Wire.

It’s a shame that there’s even a hint of political controversy attached to Sound of Hope. This is a film that tries to take a positive approach to a stirring human interest story, neither exploiting its characters nor preaching to its audience.

Credits: Directed by: Joshua Weigel. Written by Joshua Weigel and Rebekah Weigel. Produced by Joshua Weigel and Rebekah Weigel, p.g.a. Executive producers: Letitia Wright, Joe Knittig, Nika King. Directors of photography: Benji Bakshi, Sean Patrick Kirby. Production designer: Debbi DeVilla. Editor: David Andalman. Music by Sean Johnson. Cast: Nika King, Demetrius Grosse, Elizabeth Mitchell, Diaana Babnicova, Elizabeth Mitchell, Kaysi J. Bradley, Taj Johnson, Della Golden.

Top: Demetrius Grosse, Diaana Babnicova, Nika King. Center: Nika King. Bottom: Diaana Babnicova. Photos courtesy Peachtree Productions.

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Tribeca documentary Made in Ethiopia: exposing capitalism

Shot over a four-year span, Made in Ethiopia uses a Chinese-backed industrial park in Ethiopia as a way to examine how economic policy operates at ground level.

The film opens with a wedding ceremony between a Chinese worker and his African bride, a sequence that has the appeal of the unknown while while simultaneously feeling too pointed a metaphor.

Directors Xinyan Yu and Max Duncan (who’s also the director of photography) then backtrack to fill in background details about Dukem, a dusty farming town transformed when Chinese businessmen built an industrial park in 2008.

The directors are present when a Chinese dignitary tours the plant in 2019. Guiding him is Motto Ma, deputy director of the Eastern Industry Park. A magnetic firebrand with a captivating spiel, Motto is relentlessly upbeat about her goal of putting together a huge expansion that promises 30,000 new jobs.

Following Motto on the phone, in her limo, at meetings, in offices, Made in Ethiopia exposes the contradictions between selling and executing. To expand the industrial park, Motto has to displace farmers who are not very successful but don’t want to give up their land.

Over time the farmers and villagers reveal they are stubbornly hanging on hoping for land and money promised to them by the government. A third plot line in the documentary focuses on individual workers who gradually realize they are being exploited by business owners.

As it did throughout the world, Covid disrupts everyone’s plans at Dukem. Employees are sequestered for weeks at a time. Orders fall off precipitously. Companies shutter. Workers go on strike.

A civil war that displaces millions is another major blow. Motto’s planned second phase of development is a casualty of the conflict.

In March, 2023, the filmmakers find Motto working at a new coffee export company. The farmers are still waiting for their promised land. Workers who sought better lives through instructional training are still stuck in entry-level positions.

For the most part Made in Ethiopia feels even-handed, as if the filmmakers were just presenting facts. The directors resort to titles, news clips, and voice-overs to fill out important details, such as half the population of Ethiopia is under the age of 20, or that typical factory workers in the Eastern Industrial Zone make $50 a month. Occasionally they’ll throw in a cheap shot, like a close-up of a ceramic cat on a manager’s desk.

But the documentary is not nearly as objective as it appears. That’s because no one addresses the central issues to the story: an economic system of winners and losers. The same inexorable search for profits that moved factories and warehouses from China to Africa will continue to reduce everyone and everything to the lowest common denominator.

The same underlying but unstated theme appears in other Tribeca docs this year, like Driver. Documentary filmmakers have to tackle the root causes of the issues they are covering, instead of hoping their cameras will capture something interesting.

Credits: Directed by Xinyan Yu and Max Duncan. Produced by Tamara Dawit, Xinyan Yu, Max Duncan. Executive producers: Anna Godas, Oli Harbottle, Susan Jakes, Mehret Mandefro, Roger Graef. Director of photography: Max Duncan. Editors: Biel Andrés, Jeppe Bødskov, Siyi Chen. Composer: Ali Helnwein.

Photos: Top — Chinese businesswoman Motto Ma speaking to members of an Ethiopian regional government delegation inside the Eastern Industry Park, Oromia region, Ethiopia. Bottom — Farmer Workinesh Chala and her daughter Rehoboth standing in the fields of Dibdibbe Village, looking out towards the Eastern Industry Park, Oromia region, Ethiopia. Photo credits: Max Duncan. Courtesy of Hard Truth Films.

Screening at the Tribeca Film Festival.

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Dancing Village: The Curse Begins—Horror from Indonesia

Unfolding like a folk tale that’s only dimly remembered, Dancing Village: The Curse Begins is a prequel to KKN Di Desa Penari, an Indonesian blockbuster released in 2022. This slow-burn thriller sends cousins and friends to a remote jungle village on Java. There they encounter ancient demons and curses.

Director Kimo Stamboel draws on Eli Roth and Ari Aster as much as Indonesian traditions. His movie fits comfortably into Western horror conventions. Dancing Village is paced so deliberately that most viewers will see the shocks coming a mile off.

That’s not to say Lele Laila’s script doesn’t build enough tension. The story exploits the contrast between its urban leads and their rural village counterparts while still finding ways to keep them on equal standing. Yes, it’s a different world in the jungle, but the people who live there have the same dreams and ambitions.

A long prologue set in 1955 depicts a ritual in which drugged or hypnotized girls dance until one survives for a ritual sacrifice. But a girl manages to steal the demon Badarawuhi’s snake bracelet, disrupting the spell. She races off into the jungle, leaving the shaman Buyut to deal with the consequences.

Twenty-five years later, Mila (Maudy Effrosina) brings her cousin Yuda (Jourdy Pranata) and their nerdy friend Jito (Moh. Iqbal Sulaiman) back to a nearby jungle village. A shaman has told her the only way to save her dying mother is to return the snake bracelet.

Villagers are friendly but unhelpful. Buyut, now the elder, is “away.” No one else will tell them where the dancing village is. Yuda persuades Ratih (Claresta Taufan) to stay in her house with her mother—who’s also mysteriously ill.

At night spirits glide by Yuda and Jito while they sleep on the porch of an abandoned house. Mila hears distant singing. Ratih’s mother spews blood from her mouth. When Mila and Ratih go to the women’s bath house, the demon approaches. Mila’s attacked by snakes, saved only when Ratih pulls her from the pool.

Other encounters include a food stall serving butchered monkeys, flashbacks to Mila’s mother suffering in her bedroom, and various narrative red herrings and stings. Spoiler: Mila must enter the afterlife to free her mother from the demon’s grasp.

What impresses most about Dancing Village is the superb cinematography by Patrick Tashadian. The camera glides through the village, swoops over houses, pulls viewers into intimate contact with the supernatural. Tashadian and Stamboel build incredible atmosphere with very little effort.

Aulia Sarah plays the demon about as well as anyone could expect, given that her motives are obscure and her powers unexplained. Effrosina manages to look worried throughout the film, a one-note turn that lacks nuance. Claresta Taufan gives the best performance in the movie as a daughter who must betray to save her mother.

Dancing Village was planned and shot as an IMAX production, a first for Southeast Asia. Unfortunately Lionsgate won’t be offering that version in the US.

Credits: Directed by: Kimo Stamboel. Screenplay: Lele Laila. Produced by Manoj Punjabi. Director of photography: Patrick Tashadian. Edited by: Fachrun Daud. Music by Ricky Leonard. Sound designer: Hiro Ishizaka. Cast: Aulia Sarah, Maudy Effrosina, Jourdy Pranata, Moh. Iqbal Sulaiman, Ardit Erwandha, Claresta Taufan, Diding Boneng, Aming Sugandhi, Dinda Kanyadewi, Pipien Putri, Maryam Supraba, Bimasena, Putri Permata, Baiq Vania Estiningtyas Sagita, Baiq Nathania Elvaretta.

Opening in theaters April 26, 2024.

Photos: Top—(L-R) Aulia Sarah, Claresta Taufan Kusumarina and Maudy Effrosina in DANCING VILLAGE: THE CURSE BEGINS (Credit: Lionsgate). Center—Aulia Sarah in DANCING VILLAGE: THE CURSE BEGINS (Credit: Lionsgate).

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The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare: dull WWII spy romp

Every now and then Guy Ritchie makes a film in a crisp, focused style that can be utterly beguiling. The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare is not one of them. Filled with snark, bombast, and empty violence, this WWII actioner is destined for cable filler.

Opening with an acoustic guitar behind melancholy whistling, Ministry evokes both Ennio Morricone’s soundtracks for Sergio Leone and the type of large-scale WWII blockbusters prevalent in the 1960s. We’re soon in a screening room with Winston Churchill (an unrecognizable Roy Kinnear) watching newsreel footage of Nazis winning the war.

Ignoring advice from his cabinet to appease Hitler, Churchill orders intelligence leader “M” (Cary Elwes) and his associate Ian Fleming (Freddie Fox) to assemble a team that will attack a crucial U-boat loading facility on Fernando Po, an island off the west coast of Africa.

Summoned first is Gus March-Phillipps (Henry Cavill), an imprisoned killer who refuses to obey the rules. He in turn gathers Anders Lassen (Alan Ritchson), a Danish killer expert with knife and bow-and-arrow; frogman and explosives expert Freddy Alvarez (Henry Golding); Irish killer and expert sailor Henry Hayes (Hero Fiennes Tiffin); and killer Geoffrey Appleyard (Alex Pettyfer), a prisoner of the Nazis.

Ahead of them on Fernando Po: spy Marjorie Stewart (Eiza González) and bar owner Heron (Babs Olusanmokun), setting in place a plot to defeat local Nazi leader Heinrich Luhr (Til Schweiger). Believe it or not, Luhr is a sadist who likes to manacle women before having his way with them.

That’s a lot of exposition, supposedly based on the book The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare: How Churchill’s Secret Warriors Set Europe Ablaze and Gave Birth to Modern Black Ops by Damien Lewis, but in fact cribbed from The Dirty Dozen, Casablanca, The Guns of Navarone, and whatever Tarantino the filmmakers screened last.

Take the opening scene, with our heroes sailing in the Atlantic. Boarded by mean Nazis in navy whites, Gus and Lassen joke and tease the villains before killing them all in gory but curiously antiseptic ways. Then Freddy blows up the Nazi destroyer.

The jokes and carnage continue as the ungentlemen break into a Nazi prison, free Appleyard, and continue south. Scores of Nazis die while the heroes barely suffer a scratch. Jaunty jazz accompanies their killing sprees. Lassen has an apparently inexhaustible supply of arrows; his bow vanishes when he no longer needs it.

At least Ritchson (a solid Jack Reacher for two seasons on Amazon) displays some athleticism. He actually looks frenzied in one scene as he hacks at a Nazi with his knife. Cavill strolls through the movie without breaking a sweat, acting with his facial hair. For long passages I forgot Golding was even in the film.

As for González, she’s like Margot Robbie in Babylon, a thoroughly modern figure lost in a period outside her understanding. She sings a baffling “Mack the Knife” that’s as much Bobby Darin as Lotte Lenya. Maybe that’s why Schweiger’s Nazi is so angry with her.

I enjoyed Guy Ritchie’s The Covenant, a war movie made with conviction instead of frills. But Ministry harks back to the excruciating Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre. Both are lazy, self-satisfied, time-wasters.

Credits: Directed by: Guy Ritchie. Screenplay by Paul Tamasy & Eric Johnson and Arash Amel & Guy Ritchie. Based The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare: How Churchill’s Secret Warriors Set Europe Ablaze and Gave Birth to Modern Black Ops by Damien Lewis. Produced by: Jerry Bruckheimer, p.g.a., Guy Ritchie, p.g.a., Chad Oman, p.g.a., Ivan Atkinson, John Friedberg. Director of photography: Ed Wild, BSC. Production designer: Martyn John. Edited by James Herbert. Music by Chris Benstead. Cast: Henry Cavill, Eiza González, Alan Ritchson, Alex Pettyfer, Hero Fiennes Tiffin, Babs Olusanmokun, Henrique Zaga, Til Schweiger, with Henry Golding and Cary Elwes.

Photos courtesy Lionsgate. Opens in theaters April 19, 2024.

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Life under a microscope: A Brief History of a Family

Classmates, one rich, one poor, are thrown together by accident. The poor one worms his way into the wealthy family, winning over the parents through deceit and subterfuge. An event changes the lives of all involved.

No, it’s not Saltburn, although Jia ting jian shi / A Brief History of a Family follows a surprisingly similar trajectory to Emerald Fennell’s 2023 film. Writer and director Lin Jianjie is even aiming for the same targets, although his story takes place in an urban Chinese setting. Brief History screened in the Panorama section of this year’s Berlinale.

When Shuo (Sun Xilun) suffers a playground accident, his classmate Wei (Lin Muran) helps him to the infirmary. Over the following days, Shuo, shy and deferential, gradually reveals an abusive home life. Wei invites him home.

Wei lives in an expensive high rise. His father (Zu Feng) is a microbiologist; his mother (Guo Keyu), a former flight attendant. They ask Shuo to dinner and later say he is welcome to come back when he wants.

Shuo does return, frequently, whether or not Wei is there. Shuo realizes that Wei is a disappointment to his parents. An indifferent student, he doesn’t study, doesn’t practice athletics, and seems content to play computer games all the time.

On the other hand, Shuo is an exemplary student, knows more about Wei’s sports than he does, and pays attention to Wei’s parents. He remembers what foods his mother likes, what records his father plays. When they go on a business trip, they invite Shuo along. Wei has to stay home to study for a test.

Lin, who also goes by the nickname JJ, is an advocate of the slow burn. Scenes unfold slowly, the camera a hesitant observer, often looking through doorways or over shoulders. The production design is icy cold in Wei’s apartment, neutral elsewhere.

The music leans Western, a conscious choice on the director’s part. In fact, Brief History of a Family looks and feels more like a European film than a Chinese one. The big difference is one of scale. Films like Saltburn show extravagant inequalities. Here not that much separates the haves and have-nots.

Lin studied bioinformatics in college before attending film school at NYU. This is his feature debut. Occasionally he will insert montages of microscopic organisms, suggesting that humans operate under similar biological impulses. There’s a detached, clinical feel to Brief History, almost a sense that Lin is experimenting with his characters.

The most interesting person in the movie is Wei’s mother, played with delicate precision by Guo Keyu. Speaking in whispery cadences, using soft gestures, she can’t completely hide her insecurity about her past as a glorified servant. Still, she hidden strengths. She blames her husband for his behavior during China’s one-child policy, and holds her trauma over him like a club.

Lou Yin, one of the producers, told me that Guo Keyu was China’s youngest best actress. “She won for Red Cherry when she was sixteen. That film appeared in the Berlin Panorama program in 1996. She’s returning here after 28 years.”

The psychology of the other characters isn’t nearly as interesting. Shuo is only trying to get ahead, using whatever means are available to him. Wei is alternately sluggish and resentful. His father is a workaholic. Since they are drawn so simply, their outcomes are evident early on.

At least Brief History avoids the histrionics that made Saltburn so annoying. But judging one film not as bad as another is faint praise indeed.

Credits: Written and directed by Lin Jianjie. Produced by Lou Ying, Zheng Yue, Wang Yiwen. Director of Photography: Zhang Jiahao. Production Designer: Xu Yao. Editor: Per K. Kirkegaard. Composer: Toke Brorson Odin. Cast: Zu Feng, Guo Keyo, Sun Xilun, Lin Muran.

Photos © First Light Films, Films du Milieu, Tambo films

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The plight of test pilots in Born to Run

Released theatrically last year, Born to Fly follows pilots undergoing rigorous training in order to test mainland China’s experimental stealth fighter jet. Deeply patriotic and extremely silly, it’s propaganda devoid of suspense, humor, and credible characterizations.

The screenplay by Gui Gang and director Liu Xiaoshi follows the Top Gun: Maverick template pretty closely. Bookended by dogfights after incursions by foreign fighters into Chinese air space, the movie then introduces us to a military suffering from a raging inferiority complex.

“The first battle is the final battle,” an officer warns his students. Other countries help each other out, but “we are on our own.” Perfecting a stealth fighter jet is the only way China can protect itself from invaders.

To test the new “Taishan” engine, recruits take physical and psychological exercises designed to weed out the weak. Hero Lei Yu (Wang Yibo) competes against rival Deng Fang (Yu Shi) for the top spot, but is too individualistic to succeed.

Forced to fly with team leader Zhang Ting (Hu Jun), Lei becomes resentful. The movie also suggests he might be a bit of a coward when he ejects from a crippled jet. Another crash leads to Zhang’s death as he heroically steers his jet away from a populated area rather than saving himself.

Born to Fly milks this sequence for everything it can get. We see Zhang’s family before, during, and after the crash, his young son bursting into tears now that he can’t have noodles with his father. A long funeral service gives everyone else in the cast the chance to cry. (It’s actually the second visit to a vast cemetery for pilots.)

Lei Yu had quit the group earlier, only to return after learning his lesson by packing parachutes for the true heroes, pilots willing to give up their lives to help others. He’s badly injured in the Zhang crash, and is nursed back to health by Dr. Shen Tianran (Zhou Dongyu).

Now a functioning part of the unit, Lei Yu implements his innovation of attaching an anti-spin parachute to the jets. (It’s the spectacularly non-aerodynamic equivalent of a T-shirt cannon bolted to the back of the jet.) Another near-crash sequence mirrors the beats of a sequence in Top Gun: Maverick.

One more inconclusive dogfight, the hint of a chaste romance between Lei Yu and Shen, and Born to Fly ends with what seem to be recorded transcripts of actual pilots.

It’s a measure of Born to Fly‘s failure, its lack of imagination, that the filmmakers shoehorn Zhou Dongyu into the thankless role of lovestruck doctor. One of the best performers in cinema, she can’t do much with such a paper-thin, emotionally demeaning role.

A fixture in propaganda films, Hu Jun is appropriately stalwart as a veteran who leads by example. The other pilots are good-looking but essentially anonymous.

Credits: Directed by Liu Xiaoshi. Screenplay by Gui Gang and Liu Xiaoshi. Director of photography: Bai Yuxia. Director of lighting: Ma Qingyuan. Original music: Guo Sida. Visual effects producer: Jessica Yang. Visual effects supervisor: Wang Shaoshuai. Production designer: Qin Weili. Cast: Wang Yibo, Hu Jun, Yu Shi, Zhou Dongyu, Bu Yu, Zhai Yujia, Wang Zichen, Lu Xin, Qu Zheming.

Released on Digital and Blu-ray on March 26 by Well Go USA Entertainment. Photos courtesy Well Go USA Entertainment.

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Cabrini review: a reverent look at an irreverent saint

An ambitious day of biking will take me up the spine of Manhattan, from 6th Avenue past Central Park and up St. Nicholas to Edgecombe Avenue. At the Highbridge swimming pool I head west to Fort Washington Avenue, climbing that to Bennett Park, the high point of the island.

Just beyond is Cabrini Boulevard, which curls around a nature sanctuary to Fort Tryon Park and the Cloisters, passing along the way a charter school, a Montessori academy, an immigrant center, and the St. Frances Cabrini Shrine. All are named for Francesca Cabrini, the subject of Cabrini.

It’s a different world from Midtown, unfolding at a slower pace, with expansive views, forests, gardens, playgrounds, and walking trails. People stop, sit, and absorb their surroundings. They don’t need to know anything about the first US citizen to be canonized to appreciate something of what she accomplished. Although she died in 1917, her influence is inescapable in the neighborhood. I’ve attended services in churches named for her, and was a patient in a Cabrini hospital.

Like Cabrini herself, the movie is forceful and efficient, dismissing with nuance and pleasantries to focus on obvious goals and messages. Rod Barr’s screenplay, never subtle, manages to avoid almost any mention of doctrine or scripture. Alejandro Monteverde’s direction is flamboyantly baroque, cameras swirling around characters while choirs ascend on the soundtrack. He pushes too hard to elevate his lead, who despite her ambition was resolutely down-to-earth.

And that’s how Cristiana Dell’Anna plays her, as a no-nonsense, if sickly, reformer who will not take no for an answer. She goes up against the Roman Catholic Church hierarchy, tangling with the Pope (a saintly Giancarlo Giannini) in Rome and an Archbishop (David Morse) in New York, before taking on politics in the form of Mayor Gould (played by John Lithgow as Jeff Daniels).

Cabrini battles pervasive anti-Italian sentiments as well as deep-rooted biases against women. She convinces realtors to sell her buildings, children to leave the streets, and celebrities to support her causes. She even persuades prostitutes to dig wells.

As a woman who founded close to 70 missions serving orphans, immigrants, and the sick and poor, Cabrini’s impact on the world was profound. Cabrini the movie focuses on how difficult it was for her to operate in a society that didn’t respect her, in the process ignoring just what made her such a magnetic and revolutionary figure.

Still, the movie does bring attention to someone who made the world better for a deserving underclass. And by downplaying religious aspects of the story, the filmmakers don’t have to include discussions about good and evil, or arguments about Christ and the poor. It’s almost like the Holy Church of Christ Without Christ in Wise Blood.

(It’s also a New York movie without New York. The streets, slums, views, and architecture are inaccurate at best, especially alleys that lead to bluffs and wide lawns in front of municipal buildings. Shooting took place in Buffalo and Italy.)

We can’t ignore Monteverde’s and Angel Studio’s earlier project, the sex-trafficking melodrama Sound of Freedom. A fictionalized account of Tim Ballard, later accused of sexual assault, the film became associated with QAnon conspiracies. Maybe that’s why Cabrini seems to avoid religion as much as possible in a story that deals so heavily with the Roman Catholic Church.

In that sense Cabrini follows in the grand tradition of movies like Brigham Young, a biopic of the church elder that glided over every controversial aspect of Mormonism.

Sound of Freedom should not have any impact on whether or not Cabrini is a good movie. Nor should its religious messages, or lack thereof. What’s important is that Cabrini is a sincere account, told with grace and impressive production values, of someone who made a difference.

Credits: Directed by Alejandro Monteverde. Screenlay by Rod Barr. Director of photography: Gorka Gómez Andreu. Edited by Brian Scofield. Music by Gene Black. Production design: Carlos Lagunas. Cast: Cristiana Dell’Anna, John Lithgow, Romana M. Vergano, David Morse, Giancarlo Giannini, Virginia Bocelli, Frederico Ielapi.

Photos courtesy Angel Studios.

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Berlinale Panorama review: Betânia

Shot largely in Brazil’s Lençóis Maranhenses park, Betânia follows a widow as she returns after many years to her ancestral home. The debut feature for writer and director Marcelo Botta, it screened in this year’s Panorama section of the Berlin International Film Festival.

The episodic script relies heavily on music—folk, dance, pop—using it as a jumping off point to explore Maranhão, a Brazilian state near the Amazon. Due in part to climate change, desert sands spread across the region, while pollution damages local fishing.

Betânia, the widow (played by Diana Mattos), is pressured by her family to leave her primitive home for a city also named Betânia. There she becomes increasingly involved with her daughters Irineusa (Michelle Cabral) and Julecia (Rosa Ewerton Jara), son-in-law Tonhão (Caçula Rodrigues), and neighbors and lovers mixed up in their lives.

The script offers several story lines. One daughter is consumed by religion; a grandson tries to enroll in an exclusive school; a gay subculture tests villagers’ tolerance. Events unfold in dance clubs, on beaches, in cinderblock houses, over meals.

The longest narrative passage follows Tonhão, who scratches out a living guiding tourists through dunes to lagoons. Shifting sands make each journey a calculated risk. A wrong turn could strand tourists beyond help.

Botta, a documentary filmmaker, and cinematographer Bruno Graziano capture the atmosphere and spirit of people living in a world of unimaginable beauty. One drone shot sweeps over fields of blooming yellow flowers surrounded by dunes, an unforgettable image.

Diana Mattos gives an assured performance as Betânia; the other leads are tuned into Botta’s easygoing vibe, apart from annoyingly caricatured tourists. Betânia is a pleasant sojourn into a fascinating environment, although Botta’s efforts to tie the movie to regional folktales aren’t totally persuasive.

Credits: Written and directed by Marcelo Botta. Produced by Gabriel Di Giacomo, Marcelo Botta. Executive Producers: Luciana Coelho, Isabel Abduch. Director of Cinematography: Bruno Graziano. Edited by Márcio Hashimoto. Music: Marcelo Botta, Tião Carvalho, Edivaldo Marquita, Misael Pereira, Henrique Menezes, A Barca.

Cast: Diana Mattos (Betânia), Tião Carvalho (Ribamar), Caçula Rodrigues (Tonhão), Nádia D’Cássia (Vitória), Ulysses Azevedo (Antonio Filho), Michelle Cabral (Irineusa), Vitão Santiago (Xambim), Rosa Ewerton Jara (Julecia), Enme Paixão (DJ Kaya).

Photos: Top Diana Mattos; Center Rosa Ewerton Jara, Diana Mattos, Nádia D’Cássia. © Felipe Larozza / Salvatore Filmes. Screened in Berlinale Panorama 2024.

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Tak Sakaguchi is the One-Percenter

For several years Well Go USA has been one of the best distributors of genre films in the country. But the company finds itself in a bind with One-Percent Warrior (aka One-Percenter), a martial arts adventure starring Tak Sakaguchi.

Sakaguchi has figured in a sexual assault case involving cult director Sion Sono and was accused of assault himself. “Innocent until proven guilty” is a foundation of the US legal system, but I can’t deny misgivings about reviewing One-Percent Warrior.

Another reason is that it’s not very good. Sakaguchi plays Takuma Toshiro, has-been action star shunned by the industry because of his eccentric demands. Now he’s trying to jumpstart a comeback by shooting a “pure action” movie on a remote island at the site of an abandoned zinc mine.

However, rival filmmakers have already arrived, as well as triad gangsters after a fortune in cocaine. At first the fights are just skirmishes, but they quickly escalate to bloody massacres. Toshiro and his underling Akira rescue a gangster’s daughter, only to face waves of relentless killers.

Meta elements keep multiplying. The camera pulls back at one point to reveal that the entire story is actually taking place on a film set. Is Toshiro imagining his battles? If so, why are villains dying?

Action director Kensuke Sonomura (Baby Assassins) offers several set pieces that consist of bad guys waiting in line for Sakaguchi to take them out. The actor usually defeats them with a single blow, sometimes only tapping them on their shoulders.

The fights take place in corridors, stairwells, warehouse spaces and empty offices. Darkness and undercranking hide much of the action. The set pieces are repetitive to the point of monotony, despite the very obvious talents of Sakaguchi and the stunt players.

One well-staged encounter with Jeet Kune Do master Ishii Togo builds considerable suspense, but it’s surrounded by poor, melodramatic plot twists.

The meta elements (including a bit of Fight Club misdirection) aren’t really worth the effort, and Sakaguchi proves a dour, uninteresting lead. Hardcore fans may find enough here to watch; for others, this is a dank, unappealing exercise.

Credits: Written and directed by Yûdai Yamaguchi. Action director: Kensuke Sonomura. Director of photography: Ozawa Hiroyuki. Lighting director: Kimura Akio. Edited by Hori Zensuke. Music composed by Kawai Hidehiro. Cast: Tak Sakaguchi, Sho Aoyagi, Itsuji Itao, Kenjiro Ishimaru, Keisuke Horibe, Ishii Togo.

On Digital and Blu-ray from Well Go USA Entertainment. Streaming on Hi-YAH! starting April 5. Photos courtesy Well Go

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New Mexico Noir: Loves Lies Bleeding

A solid, nasty film noir set in New Mexico, Love Lies Bleeding is a stylish blend of genre set pieces and director and co-writer Rose Glass’s distinctive vision of erotic bodybuilding. A tough sell to mainstream viewers, it will build a loyal following of thriller fans.

Glass opens with the camera pulling out of a Jo Nesbø canyon to reveal the gleaming lights of a city much like Albuquerque. That dreamlike landscape is replaced with a tawdry sex scene behind a dive bar between scumbag dad JJ (Dave Franco) and runaway Jackie (Katy O’Brien).

Jackie later wanders into the Crater Gym, a fleapit filled with past-their-prime gym rats who stare at clichéd slogans tacked onto the walls. The gym is managed by clinically depressed Lou (Kristen Stewart), who is instantly drawn to the newcomer. Jackie’s big ambition is to win a Las Vegas bodybuilding competition; Lou just wants to get out of the trap her life has become.

In the grand noir tradition, the two make one wrong move after another. The script, which Glass co-wrote with Weronika Tofilska, jump starts the story before filling in background details. It turns out Lou and JJ are related: JJ has been seriously abusing his wife and Lou’s sister Beth (Jena Malone). Protecting her is the one reason Lou sticks around her crummy job.

JJ works for Lou’s father Lou Sr. (Ed Harris), who runs a gun club while dabbling in drugs and arms dealing. Lou Sr. has a left lot of dead enemies, and his daughter knows where the bodies are buried.Lou’s biggest mistake may be turning Jackie on to steroids (the film takes place in 1989).  When Jackie explodes, it’s hard to tell if it’s the drugs or her own neuroses. The results are catastrophic. Despite Lou’s best efforts to contain the damage, Jackie keeps veering into even worse situations

Critics have drawn comparisons to Thelma & Louise, but that film was positively buoyant compared to this. I was reminded more of John Dahl B-movies like Red Rock West and Kill Me Again, dark, hopeless stories whose dead ends feel inevitable.

Not everything works in Love Lies Bleeding, but Glass is such an accomplished director that viewers can glide over the rough spots. Is the gun club a too obvious metaphor? Don’t worry, Glass handles it perfectly. Ditto the macho bodybuilders Lou and Jackie have to deal with.

Stewart does a great job in a role that seems to mesh with her personal issues and priorities. O’Brien is consistently mesmerizing, able to maintain sympathy even as she goes off the rails. The secret weapon in Love Lies Bleeding may be Ed Harris. An icy father and resolute killer, Harris gives scintillating line readings. He is the most frightening thing in the film.

Credits: Directed by Rose Glass. Written by Rose Glass, Weronika Tofilska. Produced by Andrea Cornwell, Oliver Kassman. Executive Producers: Susan Kirr, Ollie Madden, Daniel Battsek, David Kimbangi. Director of Photography: Ben Fordesman. Production Designer: Katie Hickman. Edited by: Mark Towns. Cast: Kristen Stewart, Katy O’Brien, Jena Malone, Anna Baryshnikov, Dave Franco, Ed Harris.

Photos courtesy A24. Photos by Anna Kooris.

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