Francois Ozon, starring Catherine Deneuve, Isabelle Huppert, Emmanuelle Béart, Fanny Ardant, Virgini Ledoyen, Danielle Darrieux
(7 out of 10, if you like musicals, 3 out of 10 if you don't)

What would you do if you were one of eight women in a country house with a dead man in 1950's winter? Why, of course: wear fashionable dresses, laugh, fight, tell hateful lies, dance and sing! All kidding aside, 8 femmes/8 Women is not only a musical: it is a melodrama, murder-mystery, and theatre all wrapped up in technicolour outfits and background.

The story takes place in an exquisite mansion somewhere out there (it's irrelevant where). Gaby (classic Catherine Deneuve) brings home her eldest daughter to a household . Suddenly, upon their return, the household discovers that the man of the house has been killed -a knife in the back! The phone lines cut, the car unable to start, and a winter storm forces the women into figuring out if the killer is amongst them, and if so, who is it?

I am not sure if Ozon was intending a huge parody or celebration of women. The emotions amongst the women fluctuate between immense love for one another, jealousy, spite, sadness, neurotic outbursts, to sexual attraction -all in a rhythmic fashion. I wanted to dislike the movie since Ozon is portraying women at their most stereotypical: the siren, the slut, the servant, the sweetheart, the rich bitch -all backstabbing each other (forgive the pun). But throwing all political correctedness aside, it's a bloody (oops) hilarious film.

The cast is excellent: individually in their own right, and lending to the incredible chemistry between them. Everything is hyper-real: the colours, the clothes, the mansion, the emotions, the lighting, the singing. At times, it verges on artsy slapstick. In fact, during some scenes, I didn't know whether to laugh or moan in disbelief.

I am enjoying the current revival of movie-musicals (i.e. Dancer in the Dark, and Moulin Rouge). However, they are not for everyone (a few people did walk out of the theatre upon the second sing-song).

If you enjoy snobbish parody, 50's musicals, and superb French actresses, you will enjoy this film.

David Cronenberg, starring Ralph Fiennes, Miranda Richardson, Gabriel Byrne, Bradley Hall, Lynn Redgrave, John Neville
(9 out of 10)

Schizophrenia, of late, is a disease that mystifies yet peaks the curiosities. Cronenberg has conjured a world from the perspective of a schizophrenic man, nicknamed Spider (Ralph Fiennes). Spider has just been released from an asylum and finds himself obsessing and reliving memories of his past involving his father murdering his mother.

This is classic Cronenberg, where restraint and mood are virtuous. The romantic industrial landscape of the English gasworks lends to the feeling of isolation and desolation. He chooses scenes and moments that force you to relate to Spider's distractions and utter loneliness. They are so cunning in fact that at times make you uncomfortable which, I believe, is Cronenberg's intention. I could parallel the film to experiential art: where you are not only to observe the object/schizophrenic man, but feel that you are indeed immersing yourself in his mental seclusion. Cronenberg also poetically and gently layers reality with memory.

Menno Meyjes, starring John Cusack, Noah Taylor, Leelee Sobieski, Molly Parker, Ulrich Thomsen
(8.5 out of 10)

Max is about a Jewish art dealer, Max Rothman (John Cusack) returning from the First World War. He is less one arm, but returns to a comfortable home, gorgeous wife and mistress, and the assurance of his upper-class status. He comes across a young soldier, Adolf Hitler (a spectacular Noah Taylor) who also returned from the War, penniless, family-less and bitter. Hitler's only solace is his drawings from the War. He is eager to make a career in art, and Rothman feels obliged to help him, despite the discovery of Hitler's anti-Semitic propaganda he spews from military pressure.

I almost did not see this film (despite my devoted adoration of John Cusack). I almost did not see the film because of how I foresaw either an overly sympathetic view of Hitler, or conversely the extreme opposite, as a monster of sorts. Menno Meyjes gave me neither. The film focuses on pressing issues of the time in Germany: a division of classes, of politics, of ethnicity, and of art.

The storyline and characters are simple and cliché-free. The cinematography and settings are rich and beautiful -from Rothman's industrial warehouse art gallery, to the park pavilion, to his architecturally elite house and home. There are several relationships in which Rothman is involved: that with his loyal wife, with his artist mistress, and his eccentric friends (the film suffers a little from irrelevant subplots). However, it is those dialogues with Hitler that are of incredible power and resonance. [One note to all moviemakers: do not try to include your own unique brand of performance art in the script and subject your actors to performing it. Performance art in itself often verges on cheeseball. Use drawings, paintings, but teddy bears?! Menno?!]

Taylor is incredible as the initially hostile, neurotic, insecure and self-centered Hitler. He flies from a darty-eyed geek, eager for Rothman's approval to a scornful yelling-and-spitting militant all in one swoop. Cusack is no stranger to playing the confident and suave gentleman -albeit it's been a while. Molly Parker's talent playing Rothman's wife was wasted. I would have much preferred to see her as the artist-mistress (heck, she had more chemistry with Cusack than Leelee Sobieski as the mistress -but she's the wife! That's not right, right?)

Meyjes made an incredibly intelligent film without seeking to make a brooding academic film about the Hitler.

Joel Schumacher, starring Colin Farrell, Forest Whitaker, Katie Holmes, Radha Mitchell, Kiefer Sutherland
(8 out of 10)

Phone Booth is one of those movies where you have no choice but be engrossed whether you're falling for the film or not. It grabs your stomach (for the men, your balls) and slowly squeezes it tighter and tighter --there is no relief for an hour-and-a-half. Are you prepared for that? I was not…

The film begins perfectly [Aside: kudos to the guy who chose the excellent font for the opening credits], with fractal images from a satellite in space to the innards of a phone. It revolves around Stuart Shepard (Colin Farrell) a slick, fast-talking, fancy threads I'm-better-than-you strutting publicist. It's perfectly set in New York (a hub for slimey people like that, no?) at the corner of 53rd and 8th in a Phone Booth. A married man, after hanging up with his girlfriend, Shepard answers a ring. It is a mysterious man (in stereotypical bad-guy voice and laugh, is it Dr. Evil?) who claims to have a perfect vantage point to shoot and kill him -unless he obeys his instructions. An exploding toy and a dead stranger later, Shepard is forced to listen intently and remain in his booth until the mystery man is satisfied with the moral tasks at hand.

I am a devout believer of karma, so this film for me was initially hilarious to watch. Sure, let's make this greasy fake-Italian-suit jerk sweat it out a bit and be humiliated himself. But Schumacher slowly and painfully allows us to watch Shepard's humility turn into intense desperate fear, and further humiliation, and more fear. By late in the movie, I realized that I was the one being punished.

Colin Farrell is incredibly convincing as a man brought to his knees --down to every sweaty pore on his face. Forest Whitaker plays the patient and unnerving police captain, seeking to resolve the unusual circumstance. Everyone else, including Mr. Bad-guy-voice, takes a backseat to Farrell who is gripping at every new demand he is faced with.

coming up this weekend, more reviews and film festival adventures!

PART 1: (intro, review of Good Thief, star spotting)
PART 2: (reviews of Friday, Auto Focus, Open Hearts)
PART 4: (Leonard & I, reviews of Phone Booth, Max)
PART 5: (Chicken Poets, Closing Night Gala)

Fung Lee