Welcome to the new profile
We're still working on updating some profile features. To see the badges, ratings breakdowns, and polls for this profile, please go to the previous version.
Reviews4
chuzzlewit-1's rating
To enjoy "The Holy Girl," you have to watch it in a certain way. Watching for plot will leave you unsatisfied; I'd recommend watching for character instead. Lucrecia Martel attempts to use her impressive technique to nail down the psychology of her characters; this works especially well for her protagonist, Amalia. While freewheeling through the bush near the reputed site of a post-car crash miracle, a fade to silence fills the air with Amalia's desire for transcendence. (Martel's sound is expressive throughout, particularly a theremin solo as weirdly kinky as the scene it illustrates.)
The most interesting relationship is between Amalia and Jose. Shallow but not empty, they're attractive not because of their bone structure but because of their vitality - it shines through even when they're bored, which is most of the time. Their bond isn't as intense as Kate Winslet's and Melanie Lynskey's in "Heavenly Creatures," but it's the same sort of friendship (albeit not consummated), only things spin out of control in a less bloodstained way. Amalia and a mildly perverted doctor also have some amusing scenes, while the character of Amalia's mother fails to add any more than the predictable ironies.
The movie ends where it ends to avoid humiliating the characters any more than is strictly necessary; I like these endings where something is left to the viewers' imaginations, though obviously not everyone would agree. Some of Martel's social themes, like the way the middle class appropriates religion to serve itself, are lost along the way. "The Holy Girl" isn't as lovably wild as "Y tu mamá también," but on the topic of sexual hypocrisy, it's just as smart, and maybe funnier.
The most interesting relationship is between Amalia and Jose. Shallow but not empty, they're attractive not because of their bone structure but because of their vitality - it shines through even when they're bored, which is most of the time. Their bond isn't as intense as Kate Winslet's and Melanie Lynskey's in "Heavenly Creatures," but it's the same sort of friendship (albeit not consummated), only things spin out of control in a less bloodstained way. Amalia and a mildly perverted doctor also have some amusing scenes, while the character of Amalia's mother fails to add any more than the predictable ironies.
The movie ends where it ends to avoid humiliating the characters any more than is strictly necessary; I like these endings where something is left to the viewers' imaginations, though obviously not everyone would agree. Some of Martel's social themes, like the way the middle class appropriates religion to serve itself, are lost along the way. "The Holy Girl" isn't as lovably wild as "Y tu mamá también," but on the topic of sexual hypocrisy, it's just as smart, and maybe funnier.
It's certainly beautiful, as must be any movie featuring the outstanding cinematographer Agnès Godard and the criminally underacknowledged sound mixer Jean-Louis Ughetto. Most movies don't give us images as warm as Michel Subor drinking with a Pusan local or as vivid as a flashback to a boat's arrival at a French Polynesian island. But from the director of "Friday Night" and "Beau Travail," that's not enough.
Subor's character, Louis, is an intruder; various people are intruders in Louis's life (notably Béatrice Dalle); Louis even has an intruder inside his body - his transplanted heart. The heightening of Louis's condition, at first achieved through long looks at his huge chest scar, becomes absurdly literal when we see a bloody organ lying in the snow. All this is meant to make some vague point about rejection, and how communities and their outsiders relate to each other, but except in the Korean section and parts of the Tahitian one, Denis's use of photogenic isolated locations defeats her theme by not giving Louis enough human life to interact with. Perhaps I'm grading too harshly, but I expect great things from a Denis movie, and I didn't see them here.
Subor's character, Louis, is an intruder; various people are intruders in Louis's life (notably Béatrice Dalle); Louis even has an intruder inside his body - his transplanted heart. The heightening of Louis's condition, at first achieved through long looks at his huge chest scar, becomes absurdly literal when we see a bloody organ lying in the snow. All this is meant to make some vague point about rejection, and how communities and their outsiders relate to each other, but except in the Korean section and parts of the Tahitian one, Denis's use of photogenic isolated locations defeats her theme by not giving Louis enough human life to interact with. Perhaps I'm grading too harshly, but I expect great things from a Denis movie, and I didn't see them here.
1. This is not an inspirational movie. Of the main characters, the one who gets off the easiest is the one whose beliefs and hopes are crushed.
2. This is not a realist movie. There are many realist scenes depicting the routine life of the children. But the characters also function as symbols, especially the seer Hengov, representing a traditional way of life and its fatalistic view of the future, and Satellite, representing a Westernized zeal. This introduces elements of mysticism to enter the movie, and means that some playing around with history and chronology is acceptable.
3. This is not an anti-American movie. No Iraqi Kurd was sad to see Saddam go. This does not obligate Ghobadi to become a cheerleader for U.S. policy. He has taken the sane view that the invasion will not magically solve the children's problems. Ghobadi may or may not support Bush's decisions, but he does not directly criticize America.
4. This is not a message movie. You are perfectly welcome, of course, to infer a message. But you should not ignore the aesthetic components. Ghobadi shoots fine landscapes: one particularly memorable image is of the children streaming up a slope, in anticipation of the start of hostilities - "Metropolis" transported to the countryside. All the performances are appropriate, and Soran Ebrahim and Avaz Latif are especially fine. The children shout because in their world, that's what it takes to be heard.
5. This is not a all-time great movie. But it's very close. Perhaps it's sophomoric in its fatalism, but its bleakness finally becomes so enveloping that it overwhelms you. Still, it would be unconvincing if it didn't demonstrate that even when day-to-day life is a struggle, it is possible to delight in living it. The fragility of this joy is the subject of this movie. Literary adaptations aside, this is one of the purest tragedies to ever hit the screen.
2. This is not a realist movie. There are many realist scenes depicting the routine life of the children. But the characters also function as symbols, especially the seer Hengov, representing a traditional way of life and its fatalistic view of the future, and Satellite, representing a Westernized zeal. This introduces elements of mysticism to enter the movie, and means that some playing around with history and chronology is acceptable.
3. This is not an anti-American movie. No Iraqi Kurd was sad to see Saddam go. This does not obligate Ghobadi to become a cheerleader for U.S. policy. He has taken the sane view that the invasion will not magically solve the children's problems. Ghobadi may or may not support Bush's decisions, but he does not directly criticize America.
4. This is not a message movie. You are perfectly welcome, of course, to infer a message. But you should not ignore the aesthetic components. Ghobadi shoots fine landscapes: one particularly memorable image is of the children streaming up a slope, in anticipation of the start of hostilities - "Metropolis" transported to the countryside. All the performances are appropriate, and Soran Ebrahim and Avaz Latif are especially fine. The children shout because in their world, that's what it takes to be heard.
5. This is not a all-time great movie. But it's very close. Perhaps it's sophomoric in its fatalism, but its bleakness finally becomes so enveloping that it overwhelms you. Still, it would be unconvincing if it didn't demonstrate that even when day-to-day life is a struggle, it is possible to delight in living it. The fragility of this joy is the subject of this movie. Literary adaptations aside, this is one of the purest tragedies to ever hit the screen.