Sister Pelagia and the Black Monk

The second of Boris Akunin's Sister Pelagia novels proved to be just as much, if not more, of a treat than the first, Sister Pelagia and the White Bulldog. Beginning in medias res and immediately from where the first book left off, we are plunged into a tale that is structurally and suspensefully superior.

As Sister Pelagia and the Bishop Mitrofanii thought they had finally got to the bottom of the mysteries surrounding Mitrofanii's aunt and her bulldogs, they are confronted by a monk who has sped from New Ararat, a monastic community within Zavolzhie, Mitrofanii's province, to report that St Basilisk, the site's patron, is now haunting the region and warning monks of grave danger in the area. Pelagia of course wishes to investigate, but Mitrofanii feels that this is no matter for a woman, especially not a superstitious nun. Instead, he dispatches a series of other representatives. First, his protege of sorts, Andrei Lentochkin, whom Mitrofanii is keen to convert to Orthodoxy, makes his way to New Ararat, but his letters report failure, and eventual sectioning in the local mental institution. Second, the chief of police, Lagrange, a clear-headed man of courage and action, who meets with his death. Finally, Mitrofanii's trusted advisor, Matvei Bentsionovich Berdichevsky, the third member of Pelagia and Mitrofanii's inner counsel, sets out to get to the bottom of things. He too suffers a reversal of fortune.

All is left to Pelagia, and her ingenious use of disguise, to try to work her way to the bottom of the mystery. But time is against as Mitrofanii, after so many failures, succumbs to a debilitating heart disease and is laid low in his bedchamber. On arrival at New Ararat Pelagia quickly realises all is not as it seems, as the militaristic community veils many oddball characters and crazed individuals, and the lines between the madmen of the institution and the townsfolk are hardly drawn at all. Assumptions and false accusations lead her down a torturous path, where every new revelation throws up further questions and challenges to her, all building to an exciting crescendo - can she find out who has been masquerading as Basilisk, what his message really means, and save Berdichevsky and Lentochkin before it is too late?

A riveting read. I can't wait to get my hands on the third part, Sister Pelagia and the Red Rooster. In the meantime, I've ordered the Fandorin novels to keep me going!

***

by Boris Akunin

Assault on Precinct 13

Well, this will be a short one. I have some excellent novel reviews hanging over me that really need to be written, but thankfully, little needs to be said about this film because there is so little to say (unless exploding and pouring forth a stream of vitriol counts... that's barely good reviewing practice though).

The plot is mind-numbingly simple: cops (inc. Ethan Hawke) closing up a precinct on New Year's Eve find themselves required to contain a certified cop-killer (Fishburne), whom some dirty cops, led by Gabriel Byrne then come after. They're all bad, basically. As is the film. Perhaps it was the atrocious dialogue that killed this for me, as I struggled even to laugh out loud at the absurdity of some of the lines, especially the 'meaningful' exchanges between Hawke and Fishburne as they are forced to ally themselves together to survive the assault.

Plot twists seem glaringly obvious and the violence is needlessly brutal, without adding anything to the film at all. It's not stylised violence one might see elsewhere and it's certainly not tongue-in-cheek gore for entertainment's sake. I honestly can't see what it, or the wooden performances, were hoping to achieve.

I tired so much of this film by about halfway that finishing it was a labour in itself. Thanks for nothing, Richet.

***

2005

Ethan Hawke, Laurence Fishburne, Gabriel Byrne, Maria Bello

Dir. Jean-Francois Richet

Sister Pelagia and the White Bulldog

First published in Russian by Boris Akunin, I picked up this translation of the first in a series of books that followed on from Akunin's success with his Erast Fandorin novels. Here his new protagonist and investigator was no longer a Sherlock Holmes hero of derring-do, but a nun, Sister Pelagia, who teaches literature and gymnastics at the local convent, and is relied upon heavily by the bishop, Mitrofanii. Rounding off the trio of core characters is the loveable Matvei Bentsionovich Berdichevsky, converted to Christianity, assistant district prosecutor and father of thirteen. These three form the heroes of the novel, champions for justice in their distant backwater province of Zavolzhsk.

The plot follow two strands: Mitrofanii's aunt asks him to find out who is killing off her beloved white bulldogs, bred for their pure white coats except for one brown ear, their squatness and above all, their slobberiness. It seems like a petty request from a mad canine sympathiser, but Mitrofanii sends Pelagia to investigate, just on the off-chance something is awry. At the same time, recently arrived from St Petersburg is a canonical inspector, sent to cause trouble and stir up discontent in the province, by hook and by crook.

Fans of the Fandorin series have suggested that the leisurely pace of the Pelagia novels is a disappointing change; however, I found myself fully engaged not only with the characters, but with Akunin's wit in relating provincial Russian of the 19th century so wonderfully. It was brought to life for me by the manner in which the lazy laidback nature of the province was mirrored in Akunin's own conversational and humorous style. Other reviews have described the Pelagia novels as workmanlike. I can think of no higher praise, and it certainly highlights Akunin's artistry in bringing together such a relaxed but involving story. I'm now onto book 2, Sister Pelagia and the Black Monk - so far it reads as intriguingly as it's predecessor.

One final point. At one time in the story a certain Mrs Polina Lisitsyna arrives on the scene. She is everything Pelagia is not - glamorous, demure, highly sought after and beautifully turned out. Pelagia groans when she hears that Polina is to be involved in the investigation. I won't reveal the twist, of course, but well worth the wait.

***

by Boris Akunin

District Nine

What happens when you're really into science fiction, you've just got out of film school, you're South African and thus involved with complex questions surrounding racism and then Peter Jackson offers to bankroll your project? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you end up making a film a bit like District 9.

District 9 takes the premise that aliens do exist and in fact have made it to Earth. But, through interviews with journalists, sociologists and collected scientists, we discover that they didn't land over New York or Hollywood, but over Johannesburg. Rather than rush out, invading army style, they were found to be malnourished, disorganised and suffering severely. An aid camp is immediately set up to support them. Twenty years pass, and the camp becomes a slum; anti-alien sentiment rises in Jo'burg, and MNU (Multi-National United) is contracted to evict the aliens to a new camp, District 10, outside of the city.

Stylistically director Neill Blomkamp has plumped for quasi-documentary filmmaking. Snippets of interviews fill us in with information about the alien arrival very swiftly, and are interspersed with news broadcasts and what appears to be a film crew following the hapless MNU employee, Wikus Van De Merwe, who has been chosen nepotistically to organise the serving of eviction notices to the aliens. It is through Wikus' eyes, or at least, with our eyes on him, that we gain the greatest insight into alien-human relations. Wikus is blase and crass in dealing with the aliens, or 'prawns' as they are dubbed, and even though one knows something is going to go wrong, it is hard not to laugh at how incompetent Wikus proves himself to be.

When things do in fact go wrong, and Wikus finds himself without friends or support, and indeed being pursued by his own company, the film shifts a gear from edgy mockumentary, where the challenge of dealing with race sits side by side with Wikus' ongoing commentary, to nearly-action flick. I say nearly, because I felt that it never quite became full-blown. Or at least, it never leapt the gap into blockbuster territory, as the South African accents and range of camera styles kept that distance from the standard Hollywood action flick. I appreciated that.

What really struck me was just the range of emotions it elicited in me. Yes, there were some difficult questions being posed about racism, and since the film's release the director's handling of the Nigerians in the film, who are portrayed as soulless bandits out only for profit from the hapless aliens, so debased they even eat alien flesh in the hope of magically gaining alien strength, has come into question. But I was also laughing at the natural comedy of the goonish Van De Merwe, and touched as the twist in his life left him at times vomiting and at times in tears. As he squats on a rubbish dump and starts to push cat food into his mouth, only to cry, his face was wracked with the pain of knowing what he was becoming, and what he had lost. That, to me, was a touching moment. Although there was the suggestion of a happy ending, it was not spelt out for us. Perhaps to allow for a sequel, but perhaps because where the strength of the film lay was in the fact it may have had a Hollywood budget, but it wasn't governed by some of the 'laws of filmmaking' that govern many American films in recent years.

***

2009

Sharlto Copley

Dir. Neill Blomkamp

Tears Of The Sun

Another lovefilm gem I've finally got around to viewing. I feel as though even if I don't enjoy a film like Tears of the Sun it's at least my moral responsibility to subject myself to viewing third-hand the atrocities there are in this world. Like why people make films and write books about the Holocaust. No, there isn't a bleaker subject. No, it's never 'enjoyable' to read/see stuff about it. Yes, it is necessary to remember and we should be telling people about just how bad events can be. The same goes for Africa and the horror of tribal violence and ethnic cleansing.

An American task force is sent to a Christian mission in Nigeria just as the President is assassinated in a military coup. The new dictator, from the Muslim north of Nigeria, embarks upon religious and ethnic cleansing to 'free' his people. Bruce Willis, when arriving to rescue an American doctor, is compelled to help some Christian Nigerians to the border with Cameroon and safety.

I'm a fan of Bruce Willis and he gives a solid performance as the trooper who doesn't really know how to disobey orders. Having reached extraction point, and got his 'package' away, leaving the refugees to fend for themselves, he experiences a change of heart and heads back to help them. One of his men quietly confronts him, challenging him to explain what they are doing, and what changed in Bruce's head to cause this turnaround. Willis replies: "I'll let you know when I figure it out".

Monica Bellucci overeggs things as the American doctor, and in fact, the film is weakened firstly by how much emphasis they make on whether or not she is American (she married an American, so is entitled to american protection), and secondly by her rather tearful and extravagant performance. For all her stoic nature and strength in the face of adversity in the jungle, she seemed a little too swift, in my view, to weep. The other way in which I struggled with the film was their presentation of the atrocities. Yes, it is important that we see the brutality of tribal violence that we might be chastened, that a lesson may be learned. But at the same time, I didn't feel this presentation tug at my heart strings as it might have done. Am I becoming inured of it? Or did something fall short in the presentation?

The final explosion fight scene and the loss of some of the American soldiers is touching, and filmed fantastically well. The fact that this film does not rely on fight scenes throughout to engage the attention is to its credit, and there are some nice details: the troops have all learnt something of the local patua, so that they can get by; their military precision is at all times obvious; the shift between languages is well managed. We are not faced with bumbling idiots or a more typical Hollywood plot that relies of character mistakes to propel plot. But at the same time, it seemed to me to be a fairly linear plot, and I was not particularly surprised by a final revelation that I suppose should surprise some: it was far too obviously foreshadowed in the opening scenes.

A well put together, cohesive piece, but for my taste, not gung-ho enough to be really an action movie, nor wrestling firmly enough with sensitive materials really to provoke deep consideration or to summon raw emotional impact.

***

Bruce Willis, Monica Bellucci, Cole Hauser, Eamonn Walker

Dir. Antoine Fuqua

Dorian Gray

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde's only published novel, receives a spirited treatment in cinemas currently. Dorian Gray didn't particularly strike me as a film that would appeal personally; the trailer suggested that the producers had traded in on striking good looks for vapid teenpleaser and on artistic depth for blockbuster-style impact. But my first impressions were somewhat misplaced.

Ben Barnes did admirably. His first appearance as a young Dorian arriving to the newly inherited family home in Victorian London was clumsy and a rather obvious attempt at 'innocence'. Similarly, his return from his travels of fifteen years to his friends now aged, towards the close of film, challenged Barnes to portray age and experience without actually aging himself. Here again I felt he lacked the gravitas fully to pull off such an attempt. However, despite his opening and closing scenes, in the main he provided a strong performance, impressing me most with the devilish twinkle in his eye as he slid into vice.

He was ably supported by Colin Firth and Ben Chaplin, who, as Henry and Basil, formed something of a devil-angel duo for Dorian's seduction into vice. They both performed excellently, and conveyed much in their exchanged glances of confusion as their creation started to exceed their limitations. Rachel Hurd-Wood as Dorian's first love, Sybil Vane, was sadly unremarkable, and too simpering for my taste. Rebecca Hall's surprise appearance towards the end of the film was also a bit of a disappointment. As Henry's daughter, a supposed change for Dorian's redemption, she performed well enough, but her lines were littered with comments about suffrage, the new-fangled camera and the future for women. It was too much of an attempt at modernising and contextualising Dorian's life and the changes in society to be palatable.

In fact, perhaps it was modernisation that was this film's undoing, or at least caused it to slip considerably in my estimation. The CGI effects for Dorian's portrait were feeble and the addition of groans and growls laughable. Where the novel charts Dorian's fall into vice as a three-dimensional quest for pleasure in all forms, through art, music, theatre and indeed a search for beauty, the film settled on raucous parties, deflowering of virgins and copious amounts of gin. It's true, Dorian does partake in all these things in the novel, but they are not the only things that blacken his soul. It was in this way that the film failed at the last post for me: it was successfully acted, musically and cinematically well put together, but in attempting to do something new it traded in on the beautiful nuances of the original to provide something racy and ultimately unfulfilling on the screen.

***

2009

Ben Barnes, Colin Firth, Ben Chaplin, Rebecca Hall, Rachel Hurd-Wood

Dir. Oliver Parker

Brief Encounter

I finally got around to watching Noel Coward's Brief Encounter that I have recently also seen onstage. It's a piece that I feel deserves to be tip-toed around, simply because it offers to the audience such a heart-breaking and emotionally fragile statement about love, destiny and the choices that we are compelled to make.

Laura (Johnson) and Alex (Howard) are both happily married. She is a housewife; he, an ambitious doctor. But after a chance meeting together as they wait for trains to their respective homes (in opposite directions) they discover a strong connection between them that soon turns to love. It is only on her once-weekly visits to town that they can meet, for lunch, an afternoon visit to the pictures, or perhaps a jaunt to the country. It's an affair, but with none of the sordid connotations that now have come to be understood with that word.

Every single stage of the relationship is charted with exceptional delicacy and attention to detail. Lean does not palm off the viewers with cliches or frivolity; Laura is pained throughout - she has a husband she loves and in falling for Alec, she knows that she is in essence doing something underhand and dirty, however virtuous and 'right' she may feel it is. The twist to the telling is added through a simple device: Laura narrates the entire story, in her head, as a monologue to her husband, Fred. She wishes she could talk to the one person who would give her reasonable and well-considered advice. Of course, he is the one person she can never tell of her love for Alec.

Brief Encounter strikes at such core questions concerning love: do we only have one true love? can we, perfectly happy and contented, fall out of love because of another? is choosing passion over stability intrinsically irresponsible for the modern person? Brief Encounter is built around its time, a time when women's freedoms were very much more restricted, and indeed the idea of divorce far from many couples' minds. But the ideas seem timeless; the risk of falling for someone else, the pressures forced upon us by a relationship, and perhaps most importantly, the unbearable pain associated with love where there are strings attached.

A wonderful, touching, agonising film.

***

1945

Celia Johnson, Trevor Howard

Dir. David Lean