Inthe superbly structured documentary Charm Circle, writer-director Nira Burstein exquisitely unspools the story of her own bizarre family. At first, we meet Burstein’s father, a sour character who inexplicably is about to lose his rented house, which has become unkempt, even filthy. He is mean to Burstein’s apparently sweet and extraordinarily passive mother, and the scene just seems unpleasant.
But then, Nira Burstein brings out twenty-year-old videos that show her dad as witty, talented and functional. We learn a key fact about the mom, and then about each of the director’s two sisters.
Some of the publicity about Charm Circle describes the family as eccentric, but only one daughter is a little odd – three family members are clinically diagnosable. Charm Circle is a cautionary story of untreated mental illness and the consequences of failing to reach out for help.
This is Nira Burstein’s first feature, and she has two things going for her: unlimited access to the subjects and a remarkable gift for storytelling. Charm Circle works so well because of how Burstein sequences the rollout of each family member’s story.
The Nashville Film Festival returns in a few days, and I attended a screening of Charm Circle, with a Nira Burstein Q&A at NashFilm two years ago. It went on to play both the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival and Cinequest, and can now be streamed on the Criterion Channel.
The marvelous Empire of Light is a lot of things, but primarily a showcase for the genius of Olivia Colman. Colman plays Hilary, who lives in a British seaside resort town and works in an ornate British movie palace that is, in 1979, showing its age. She’s not the theater manager (who is male, of course), but she’s the person who runs the staff and makes everything operate.
Hilary seems to live a solitary life outside the theater, but she’s socially confident enough to dine alone in restaurants and to enjoy a social dance class. A young man, of African ancestry, takes an entry level job at the theater, and Hilary is drawn to his sensitivity, intellect and aspirations. The two connect, but their journey together faces difficulties.
There is Hilary’s mental health, for starters. Although, she is the solid presence that holds the theater together, it develops that she is on the rebound from a breakdown. She is taking lithium, for what would have been known in 1980 as a manic depressive disorder. She has been prescribed lithium for a reason – and when she feels good enough to stop taking it, there are consequences. It is later revealed that she, deep down, rages against her mistreatment by male authority figures in her life.
So, in Empire of Light, we have a middle-aged woman and a young man, the topics of mental illness and race relations in the UK during the skinhead revival and ascendency of Thatcherism. And it’s all set in a cinema, which allows director Mendes and cinematographer Roger Deakins and the audience to revel in their and our love of cinema. I loved the cinema’s marquee, which both marks the timeframe and celebrates the wonderful movies of the era: All That Jazz, The Blues Brothers, Gregory’s Girl, Raging Bull, Chariots of Fire, Being There.
As much as I loved and admired Empire of Light, the critical reception has been mixed (ranging between love and loathe), resulting in a middling Metacritic score of 54. Some critics whom I respect panned Empire of Light as a scattered misfire (although uniformly praising Colman). However, I see the multiplicity of topics as reflecting the complexity of life, not a lack of focus.
Sam Mendes has directed a slew of excellent films since winning an Oscar for American Beauty. This is his only second screenplay (the other was 1917). Here, his writing is a strength. The Wife appreciated the subtle signs of Hilary’s decompensation (lipstick on her teeth, an incompletely buttoned dress). We’re cringing, waiting for Hilary to melt down at the most public moment, but Mendes saves the real explosion for later, protecting her from total humiliation. The movie’s ending is sentimental without a hint of corniness.
We live in an age of great screen screen actresses, but I can’t see anyone other than Olivia Colman or Michelle Williams play this role with as much authenticity and emotional power. Colamn, with the greatest subtlety, takes Hilary through moments of tenderness, apprehension, joy, being degraded, exuding dignity, all ranging between command and decompensation. A scene where there is banging at her apartment door is especially heartbreaking. Somehow, Colman was not nominated for an Academy Award for this performance, surely among the five best in 2022.
Toby Jones has a scene, sitting on exterior stairs with Olivia Colman, that is extraordinary – a moment of regret when he stuns himself by reflecting on the cause of a relationship breach.
Micheal Ward is solid and credible as Stephen, and the rest of the cast is excellent, too. Colin Firth is a clump of humorless and pompous entitlement, an exile from the Mad Men era. Tom Brookes is especially memorable as theater worker Neil, whom we initially see for his lively and offbeat humor. Then we pick up that Neil doesn’t miss anything, and Neil’s uncommon decency and sensitivity is finally revealed.
Cinematographer Roger Deakins, having been nominated for fourteen Oscars and won twice, makes the most of the aging, once grand cinema and the sunsets and fireworks of the Margate coast. He’s earned another Oscar nod for Empire of Light.
Life is complicated, and sometimes art is complicated, too. Empire of Light is one of the best movies of 2022.
Inthe superbly structured documentary Charm Circle, writer-director Nira Burstein exquisitely unspools the story of her own bizarre family. At first, we meet Burstein’s father, a sour character who inexplicably is about to lose his rented house, which has become unkempt, even filthy. He is mean to Burstein’s apparently sweet and extraordinarily passive mother, and the scene just seems unpleasant.
But then, Nira Burstein brings out twenty-year-old videos that show her dad as witty, talented and functional. We learn a key fact about the mom, and then about each of the director’s two sisters.
Some of the publicity about Charm Circle describes the family as eccentric, but only one daughter is a little odd – three family members are clinically diagnosable. Charm Circle is a cautionary story of untreated mental illness and the consequences of failing to reach out for help.
This is Nira Burstein’s first feature, and she has two things going for her: unlimited access to the subjects and a remarkable gift for storytelling. Charm Circle works so well because of how Burstein sequences the rollout of each family member’s story.
I attended a screening of Charm Circle, with a Nira Burstein Q&A at the Nashville Film Festival. In July and August, it will play both the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival and Cinequest.
The Must See in this year’s Cinequest is the Canadian indie Lune, an astonishingly authentic exploration of bipolar disorder. Miriam and her teen daughter Eliza must navigate the impacts of the mom’s illness. Played by writer and co-director Aviva Armour-Ostroff, Miriam is the most singular movie character I’ve seen recently.
Miriam is her disease but not just her disease. Smart and funny, and devoted to her daughter without smothering her, she would be the Cool Mom if she weren’t always on be edge of mortifying everyone.
But then there is the bipolar disorder. Miriam’s streams of manic speech have the rhythm of poetry. When she becomes totally absorbed in a manic episode, she tries to enlist everyone she knows in wildly impractical schemes, like a spur-of-the-moment trip back to her native South Africa to vote for Nelson Mandela. And it can get inappropriate, as when she invites Eliza’s high school boyfriend to tag along to Africa.
Having survived previous episodes, Eliza is forced to parent her own mom, always beseeching her to take her meds. The illness has led to their being evicted countless times, and Eliza bears the emotional scars. Miriam often makes Eliza cringe, but Eliza knows that it can get even worse. Eliza’s boyfriend, with no reason to expect otherwise, vastly underestimates the consequences of Miriam’s illness.
Armour-Ostroff has made Miriam funny, but not only a subject of comedy, and neither harmless nor a dangerous monster.
Now, this authenticity is not easy to achieve. Having had family members with mental illness, I particularly despise the exploitation of mental illness for entertainment. I am painfully knowledgeable about multiple personality disorder, and I can tell you that it may be unpredictable, but it sure isn’t amusingly entertaining like in The United States of Tara. (The Three Faces of Eve, on the other hand, is acceptable to me.)
I asked Armour-Ostroff what drew her to the topic of bipolar disorder? She replied “My dad is Miriam. The character of Eliza is based on me.” Wow. There you have it – the key to the authenticity of Lune.
Armour-Ostroff’s performance is riveting. The rest of the cast is excellent, including Chloe Van Landschoot as Eliza and Vlad Alexis as Eliza’s boyfriend.
Lune, which she co-directed with her partner. Arturo Pérez Torres, is the first feature as a director for Armour-Ostroff. The two co-produced 2017’s The Drawer Boy, which Pérez Torres directed. The Drawer Boy can be streamed on Amazon.
I screened Lune for its world premiere at Cinequest, and it made my Best of Cinequest 2021 as the Must See of the festival. Lune‘s next stop on the festival tour is RapidLion – the South African International Film Festival. There’s one more night to stream Lune at Cinequest for only $3.99.
In the indie Run & Jump, a rare type of stroke has changed the personality of an Irish furniture maker; he has survived, but now prone to rages and catatonia, he is never going to be the same as before. He is returned to his family, led by his firecracker wife (Maxine Peake). Along comes an American medical researcher (Will Forte from Saturday Night Live and Nebraska), who moves with the family so he can continually film his patient’s symptoms.
The family initially resents the constant filming, although they desperately need the income from the research stipend. The researcher is so socially awkward that he’s almost catatonic himself, but he is able to provide the adult male presence that the family now misses, and they are eventually drawn to his kindness. Although he tries to maintain clinical distance, he is inevitably attracted to the vitality of the wife – a real live wire. But this isn’t going where you might expect…
Run & Jump succeeds both as a romance and as a family drama. The primary credit goes to co-writer and director Steph Green. A Bay Area filmmaker who now works in Ireland, Green was Oscar nominated for a live action short. Run & Jump is her first feature.
Maxine Peake’s affecting performance as the wife drives the film; Run & Jump is really the story of the wife’s struggles as she fights to keep her family afloat while making a near impossible adjustment.
Run & Jump is available on DVD from Netflix and streaming on Netflix Instant, Amazon, iTunes, Google Play, YouTube and Xbox Video.