AI WEIWEI: NEVER SORRY (B+) had a long run in Santa Fe last year, and it's an understated but powerful tale of the Chinese artist and dissident. It reminded me a lot of MARINA ABRAMOVIC: THE ARTIST IS PRESENT (A-minus) in its general feel (and depiction of the extreme nature of art gallery production), but it lacked the emotional knockout punch of "Marina," both in the storytelling and in the connection it makes with its subject. His story is compelling; the rendering of it is pretty much by-the-book, as the makers struggle at times to develop the narrative or build drama. Telling a great story is only half the battle in a documentary; you still have to create a good film -- with a story arc, compelling characters, and a beginning, middle and end. A good example of a documentary that has a great story and wonderful characters -- but stumbles to sustain the narrative -- is THE QUEEN OF VERSAILLES (B), which is a total hoot but consistently drags throughout and staggers to an unsatisfying ending. I also wanted to like Errol Morris' TABLOID (B+) more than I did, but at least he got points for effort; he just seemed to coast through that one.
"Ai Weiwei" succeeds in capturing the spirit of China's dissident movement since Tiananmen Square, and director Alison Klayman expertly weaves in Ai's obsessive use of social media, in particular Twitter. I also like the theme of communal meals that serves as an organic thread. But overall, maybe I just was disappointed in him personally; he seems to have a bit of a nasty streak to him, and he fathers a child outside his marriage. I know, it has nothing to do with his art or his politics; but it just frayed my connection to him as a character.
In contrast, "Marina Abramovic," which played in theaters and on HBO last year, jolted me like few movies have. Where Ai can be a bit of a lone wolf, Abramovic thrives on human interaction. The simple scenes of her sitting across from random people at her celebrated performance-art show in New York are profound at times. With a narrative thread featuring her old collaborator and lover, the documentary captures something essential about our motivations and our relationships. Mesmerizing.
And then there's WHORES' GLORY (B) from Austrian Michael Glawogger. It's a brutal depiction of prostitutes in three cities, spending equal amounts of time in Thailand, Bangladesh and Mexico. Stylized at times like a Cinemax reality show, Glawogger shuns narration for the sights and sounds of the venues and the occasional monologues from the women (some veterans in their 40s) and girls (seeming to be no older than adolescence). In the first and third segments, the women are identified by numbers -- whether in a "Fish Tank" in Bangkok or in a string of small motel rooms along a pot-holed road in the Mexican border town Reynosa. The film opens with a visually stunning scene of the young women dancing and writhing in a second-floor bay window as they shoot lasers at passers-by below, before settling into a rather dull portrayal of the cheap club, where the women show little emotion or interest in the cattle call they are a part of. Things turn much darker in the second segment, as we are introduced to rough madams, feral young men, and sad girls -- all of whom treat prostitution as a necessary evil to keep the men sedated and the women's families fed. The film features relatively little sex and nudity, until late in the film when we are treated to a by-the-numbers session between a Mexican woman and a young man that is joyless and depressing. Glawogger, who apparently considered this the third film in a series on globalization, alternates stylized shots that illuminate the inner life of the women with a few misguided throwaway visuals (lingering, for instance, on dogs copulating in the street -- OK, we get it). The soundtrack is compelling, though most of the vocals (especially by CocoRosie) feature women with little-girl voices, suggesting another layer to the evils of sexual abuse. Two classic P.J. Harvey songs show up toward the end, and they still pack a punch. The best song of the bunch is featured below.
Finally, in a spooky coincidental fictional bookend to "Whores' Glory," I was endlessly charmed by 17 GIRLS (A-minus), a dramatic retelling of a "true story," relocated to a high school in France, where more than a dozen students conspired to get pregnant at the same time. Sisters Delphine and Muriel Coulin create a luscious, lovely little tale of the camaraderie of 17-year-olds. It echoes -- and has the same tactile effect as -- Sofia Coppola's "The Virgin Suicides." I'm as far from an authority as you can get on the subject, but I've seen few films that so purely celebrate the sisterhood of 17-year-olds. I was riveted by the young women and their intimate interactions. The opening scene manages to avoid the exploitative nature of "Whores' Glory" while lingering over the skinny frames of a hallway full of teens in their underwear awaiting their turn with the school nurse. The Coulins are paying homage to the flawless beauty of nubile youth, capturing a brief moment of innocence before these girls will transform physically, mentally and emotionally. Over the course of an economic 91 minutes we get more than cardboard characters but rather some fascinating portrayals; ringleader Camile (Louise Grinberg, recalling "Mod Squad" Julie Lipton) and Clementine (Vera Farmiga lookalike Yara Pilartz) stand out. The Coulins use water images to great effect at times. I have no clue if this is an over-idealized, soft-focus fairy tale or a profound rumination on the transition from childhood to womanhood. You tell me. (Here's the trailer.)
Bonus Track: Here's a sample of the wonderful theme music from "Whores' Glory" (with scenes from the film). This is Maike Rosa Vogel with Konstantin Gropper, sounding a lot like Lisa Germano and Giant Sand collaborating as OP8:
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