The Shape of Water
Sally Hawkins gives a bravura performance as Elisa, a lonely mute who works as a janitor at a top secret government laboratory. Her closest person that she could call a friend is her neighbor, Giles (Richard Jenkins). Colonel Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon) had found a a mysterious amphibious creature (Doug Jones) in the Amazon and tortures it in lab. He hopes to have it killed for research; Dr. Robert Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg), a scientist, prefers to keep it alive. When Elisa develops a friendship with the creature that blossoms into a romance, she persuades her coworker, Zelda (Octavia Spencer), to help her to free it from captivity.
To lump The Shape of Water into one particular genre wouldn't be fair because, like most great films, it's many things all at once. It's part sci-fi, romance, suspense thriller, horror, action, drama, and, briefly, it even veers into musical territory. That combination could've easily resulted in an uneven, clunky, chaotic mess if it weren't for the intelligent and organic screenplay by writer/director Guillermo Del Toro and co-writer Vanessa Taylor. Del Toro and Taylor ground the film in so much humanism, a truly special effect, that you can feel the palpable passion and chemistry between Elisa and the creature while feeling empathy for both of them. Their romance is just as enchanting as that of Beauty and the Beast. Bravo to the filmmakers for bravely not shying away from showing their sex scene. That scene feels tender without becoming creepy or unintentionally funny.
Even the supporting characters in the film feel lived-in Colonel Strickland may seem like a villain, but he's given a backstory that makes him more of a victim of a dysfunctional, abusive family which explains why he's so sadistic and domineering. Giles goes through his own struggles as well: he's a closeted homosexual and, like Elisa, is lonely. Every little detail in the film helps to enrich the story: even the key lime pie turns out to be something significant to the story. The same goes for eggs which Elisa feeds the creature while gaining his trust. The filmmakers clearly understand that the more specific a story is, the more universal it becomes.
The Shape of Water recalls classics like E.T., King Kong, Beauty and the Beast, and Creature from the Black Lagoon, but it finds its own identity without making you feel like it's derivative. After all, it's not important where ideas are taken from, but rather where they're taken to. Fortunately, the film never runs out of momentum, imagination nor its humanism. It also has a strong beginning, middle and end without any scenes that drag or that last too long. Although it's visually stylish like all of Del Toro's films, it also has plenty of substance beneath the surface. In other words, like all truly great films, The Shape of Water has a perfect blend of Truth and Spectacle thereby making it one of the best films of the year. The running time of 2 hours flies by like 90 minutes.
Miguel (voice of Anthony Gonzalez), a 12-year-old boy, has a passion for music and secretly plays his guitar to the music of his idol, musician/actor Ernesto de la Cruz (voice of Benjamin Bratt). Abuelita (voice of Renée Victor) strictly forbids anyone in the family to play music ever since Miguel's great-great-grandfather abandoned his great-great grandmother, Mama Coco (voice of Alanna Noel Ubach) and great-grandmother Mama Coco (voice of Ana Ofelia Murguia), to pursue a music career. After he sneaks into a mausoleum during the Day of the Dead festivities and steals a guitar belonging to Ernesto de la Cruz, Miguel and his cute dog, Dante, end up crossing over the Land of the Dead where he meets the shady Héctor (voice of Gael García Bernal), who serves as his guide, along with deceased relatives. Miguel needs his family's blessings in order to escape the Land of the Dead and seeks the help of Héctor, but first he has to help Héctor who will disappear unless his loved ones on Earth remember him.
Coco, the new Pixar film, is an exhilarating and enchanting adventure. The screenplay by Adrian Molina and Matthew Aldrich has just the right blend of humor and heart with complex characters who seem true-to-life, whether they're likable or not. Even the film's most villaneous character isn't really a villain, but a flawed human being. Just when you think the story will be going in a certain direction, it offers some surprises up its sleeve. The twists will not be revealed here, but it's worth mentioning that the film becomes increasingly poignant as it progresses. Miguel is a hero well worth rooting for and caring about. He comes from a dysfunctional family and struggles to pursue his dreams of becoming a musician, so he's relatable to anyone who's ever had a dream. The screenplay also succeeds in finding an terrific blend of light and dark elements while avoiding schmaltz or being too scary. Many scenes are delightful and uplifting, but, like in any great Disney movie going back to Bambi, there are some sad ones as well when some dark themes rise to the surface. You'll undergo a roller-coaster ride of emotions throughout Coco which makes it among the Best Animated films of the year.
On a purely aesthetic level, Coco is a marvel to look at with its dazzling display of colors. If you think that Land of the Dead would be a depressing place to be, think again. It's got plenty of lively characters and breathtakingly beautiful locations that will leave you in a sense of awe. The filmakers have created a world with plenty of attention to detail that reflects their wonderful imagination. Kids will be thrilled to admire all of the eye candy while joining Miguel on his journey. Adults will have the added bonus of appreciating the film's layers of emotional depth and profound messages about family which culminate in a third act that will bring you to tears---unless you're made out of stone. Kudos to the filmmakers for making an animated film that doesn't just have great CGI, but also a compelling story with memorable characters grounded in realism. At a running time of 1 hour and 49 minutes, Coco is a perfect holiday treat for the entire family. It would make for an interesting double feature with Coraline for kids and What Dreams May Come for adults.
In a Hungarian village during August of 1945, Árpád (Bence Tasnádi), a pharmacy manager, is about to marry Kisrózxsi (Dóra Sztarenki), a peasant, who's truly in love with her ex-boyfriend, Jancsi (Tamás Szabó Kimmel). Árpád's mother, Anna (Eszter Nagy-Kálózy), grasps that Kisrózxsi doesn't love her son and . Meanwhile, a two Orthodox Jews, Hermann Sámuel (Iván Angelus) and his son (Marcell Nagy) arrive at the village via train while carrying two boxes which may or may not contain perfume for the pharmacy that they had once owned before WWII. The villagers have plundered the property and valuables of Jews during WII, so they're not too happy to see the Sámuels upon their arrive. Some, like Bandi (József Szarvas), a drunkard, feels remorse and shame for his plundering. Even the village priest (Béla Gados) possesses stolen goods from Jews.
Shot in breathtaking black-and-white, 1945 is a mesmerizing, quietly moving, and enthralling film. From the very first frame til the last, writer/director Ferenc Török and co-writer Gábor T. Szántó gradually build suspense without going over-the-top. You can sense that something will happen upon the arrival of Hermann Sámuel and his son; just the way that the villagers glare at them speaks louder than words. Bravo to Török for trusting the audience's patience by moving the film at a slow pace to allow for them to absorb each scene better. The elements of thriller and horror can be found beneath the surface in an understated way, so you'll find psychological horrors and slow-burning thrills which resonate emotionally for more than any cheap palpable thrills and horrors can. Provocative themes like that of shame, forgiveness, and anti-Semitism are explored in a gentle way that avoids heavy-handedness, schmaltz, and preachiness.
1945's greatest triumph, though, is the sense of humanism that the filmmakers have managed to capture onscreen. Each and every character rings true, and a lot of emotions are generated even without words. That's a testament to not only the sensitive and intelligently-written screenplay, but also the convincingly moving performance. The film's cinematography alone is a wonder to behold with exquisite use of lighting and poetic imagery, i.e. the haunting final shot that symbolizes so much more than just the billowing smoke. Why can't more films be shot in black-and-white? The black-and-white cinematography compliments the film's atmosphere and tone very effectively much like it did in Son of Saul and The White Ribbon. It would be ideal to watch 1945 on the big screen to be fully enraptured by its sights and sounds as well as its humanism, a truly special effect which money cannot buy. Like a truly great film, 1945 has a perfect blend of truth and spectacle. It's one of the best films of the year.
The Killing of a Sacred Deer
Dr. Steven Murphy (Colin Farrell), a heart surgeon, lives with his wife, Anna (Nicole Kidman), and two kids, Kim (Raffey Cassidy) and Bob (Sunny Suljic). He befriends a mysterious teenage, Martin (Barry Keoghan), who lives with his mother (Alicia Silverstone). Martin holds a grudge against Steven for a something immoral that he had done in the past. He tells Steven that if he does not kill one of his family members, they will all become paralyzed and die one by one. Soon after he gives him that ultimatum, Bob experiences paralysis and refuses to eat while at the hospital.
Writer/director Yorgos Lanthimos and co-writer Efthymis Filippou have woven a narrative that transcends genre and even plot description. To lump it into one genre wouldn't be fair. Seen as a horror film, it has slow-burning, psychological horror. As a drama, it's a very dark, though-provoking parable about sins, revenge, and the human conscience or lack thereof. Everything from the music score to the camera angles, set design and lighting create a very eerie, foreboding mood. mother! also tried to use stylish visual and sound aesthetics to generate a similar mood, but it quickly became dull, pretentious, and tedious. The Killing of a Sacred Deer, on the other hand, grips you from the very first frame until the very last. The opening grotesque shot is quite a bold way to hook the audience. The film not only has style, but also some substance and something profound to say about humanity under its stylish surface. You constantly wonder where the plot will be headed toward as it goes further into dark territory. Between the drama and psychological horror scenes, there's also some dark, dry humor which works well as comic relief.
Part of what makes it so compelling is that the characters are written in a way that makes them complex human beings even though they're cross moral boundaries and, in the case of Martin, act bizarrely. It seems like Steven has it all at the beginning: a nice house, a good wife and kids, and a successful job. However, just like in the film Ordinary People, the dysfunctional elements gradually rise to the surface, and Steven, like Beth in Ordinary People, struggles to put the pieces of the broken plate back together, so-to-speak. Martin is merely the catalyst who forces Steven to open his eyes and face the sins of his past. Perhaps Martin symbolizes as Steven's moral conscience.
The best kind of horror films are the ones that allow you to use your imagination. Kudos to the filmmakers for not only trusting the audience's intelligence and patience, but also their imagination while leaving a lot to interpretation. Nothing is as simple as it seems which makes it all the more intriguing. The ending, which won't be spoiled here, could've easily become a silly mess like in mother!,is it's quite solid and satisfying in a non-Hollywood way. It's also very fortunate that everyone onscreen is at the top of their game. Barry Keoghan gives a breakthrough performance---he was also great in Trespass Among Us, but here he truly gets a chance to shine. Colin Farrell gives a solid performance, as usual, and Nicole Kidman hasn't been better since Birth which would make for an interesting double feature with The Killing of a Sacred Deer. Todd Haynes' Safe and The Shining would also pair well with it.
Fortunately, this isn't one of those movies where you can feel the weight of the running time or feel the wheels of the screenplay turning. There's so much going on that you might even be tempted to see the film again to appreciate all of its intricate layers. At a running time of 121 minutes, which feels more like 90 minutes, The Killing of a Sacred Deer is chilling, provocative, and mesmerizing. It's one of the best films of the year.
Johnny Faust (Andy Black), the lead singer of a new rock band called The Relentless, moves to the Sunset Strip along with his band members, Leo (Ben Bruce), Lily (Jesse Sullivan) and Vic (Booboo Stewart), and band manager, Ricky (John Bradley), in hopes of rising to fame. When he meets the enigmatic Mr. Capricorn (Malcolm McDowell), he makes a pact with him that brings his band instant success and fame, but it comes with more than a few sacrifices. The band signs a deal with Elias (Mark Boone Junior), the head of a record company, and hires Hawk (Bill Goldberg) as their tour manager---when the shit hits the fan, Hawk becomes the fan, so-to-speak. Soon, The Relentless get involved in debauchery---sex with groupies, drugs, booze, and a little violence. The only two people in his life who try their best to help Faust are his girlfriend, Gretchen (Olivia Culpo), his mother (Denise Richards), and Gabriel (Bill Duke), a mysterious man.
American Satan is the kind of film that to describe it would not do it enough justice. On the one hand, it's an refreshingly unpredictable amalgam of drama, sci-fi, comedy, satire, parable, and romance with stylish editing and cinematography. The screenplay by Ash Avildsen and Matty Beckerman brims with razor-sharp wit and wickedly funny, tongue-in-cheek humor. Avildsen and Beckerman clearly grasp the ins-and-outs of the music industry while poking satirical jabs at it. The film pops with energy and even a little bit of campiness. The camp element mostly comes from the casting. Scenery-chewing Malcolm McDowell from A Clockwork Orange is very well cast and has a lot of fun in his role. Mark Boone Junior has terrific comedic timing. Jesse Sullivan oozes with charisma.
Fortunately, the filmmakers do a great job at getting inside the head of the protagonist, Johnny Faust. Part of what makes him such a compelling and relatable character is because he's very flawed and not an entirely decent human being. A character who's 100% decent would be unrealistic and boring to watch---and according to some actors, it's even tougher to play decency. Musician-turned-actor Andy Black has the acting chops to sink his teeth into the lead role and to find the character's emotional truth. Yes, there are also some sex scenes with nudity, you'll get to see Faust during an even more intimate moment: when he's crying. It's equally captivating and moving to watch how his character evolves through the film and how he learns valuable lessons.
Beneath the surface, American Satan has some heart and soul as well as provocative messages about inflated egos, the price of fame, creative struggle, the battles with one's inner demons, self-discovery, and the sacrifices that artists go through, i.e., selling their artistic soul. "Creativity takes great sacrifice and struggle" and "fame has a price" are messags that mother! also explored through symbolism and dark themes, but this film does it with more wit and depth without veering into pretentiousness, preachiness or lethargy. At a running time of 1 hour and 51 minutes, which feels more like 90 minutes, American Satan is a smart, wickedly funny, and biting satire that deserves to become a cult classic.
Year by the Sea
Joan Anderson (Karen Allen) decides to rent a house along the beach on Cape Cod after her husband, Robin (Michael Cristofer), relocates to Kansas because of work and her two adult children finally move out of house. She hopes to begin writing again while finding peace of mind far away from her family. John Cahoon (Yannick Bisson), a fisherman, befriends her and agrees to hire her, temporarily, at his local fish market. When she meets Joan Erikson (Celia Imre), who's grieving the loss of her husband, psychologist Erik Erikson, Joan Anderson's quest to find true happiness and to get to know herself officially begins.
Based on the memoir by Joan Anderson, Year by the Sea is an enchanting, warm, wise and profoundly moving film brimming with humanism, a truly special effect that's rare to find these days in American films. Writer/director Alexander Janko finds just the right balance between entertaining the audience and provoking them emotionally as well as intellectually. Many scenes feel relatable and ring true. Janko also knows how to introduce characters in a way that's compelling, i.e. how Joan Anderson meets Joan Erikson in a dream-like sequence on the foggy shores of Cape Cod. Right away you're able to grasp how witty and wise Erikson is. Janko handles the many scenes of Anderson attaining enlightenment gracefully without veering into preachiness. He also avoids turning the emotionally resonant scenes into sappiness.
Anyone who calls Year by the Sea conventional or formulaic isn't paying close enough attention to the many little surprises that come along, including a revelation about Joan Anderson's literary agent, Liz (S. Epatha Merkerson), and how Anderson doesn't yield to the temptations of cheating on her husband, Robin, even though she could have if she wanted to. The way that she helps a waitress, Luce (Monique Curnen), to deal with her abusive, alcoholic husbands speaks volumes about how kind, selfless and considerate she is as a human being. Janko includes other telling details about her Anderson's character like when her husband suddenly laughs at something that he thought about. Instead of acting offended or shocked by saying "Stop laughing!", she asks him, with genuine compassion and a healthy dose of curiosity, "What's so funny?" Small, beautiful scene like that are part of what makes Year by the Sea such a treasure behold.
The scenery of Cape Cod becomes a character in itself with many awe-inspiring shots that would be best experienced on the big screen. The well-chosen music also helps to enrich the film. Moreover, each of the supporting characters feels lived-in, complex and interesting enough to even be turned into a protagonist. Although Anderson's husband does have flaws, he's far from a villain and has many redeeming qualities. The same can be said for Luce's abusive husband (Tyler Haines). Even the homeless man who shows up at the fish market to receive free food from John has an interesting backstory about how he became homeless. Janko clearly understands that the more specific a story is, the more universal it becomes. He also finds the right balance between light and dark elements---yes, many scenes are uplifting, but there's also some gentle, underlying sadness and tragedy lurking beneath the surface. Just like life itself, it would be difficult and unfair to lump Year by the Sea into a genre.
The talented Karen Allen anchors Year By the Sea with her radiance. She gives the best performance of her career, and Janko allows for her shine thanks to the beautifully-written screenplay. It's also quite refreshing for a modern film to have such a complex role for an actress, and to watch a film that can't be turned into a video game or that doesn't rely on sex or violence as a means of entertaining the audience. In a less sensitively-written film, the character of Joan Anderson would have had no inner life; in Year By the Sea you can grasp her inner life from start to finish which makes the film all the more exceptional, poignant and unforgettable. At a running time of 1 hour and 54 minutes, which breezes by like an hour, Year by the Sea is a life-affirming, breathtaking, and inspirational film that will nourish your heart, mind and soul. It's the perfect antidote to Hollywood's blockbusters. What a triumph! It would make for a great double feature with Under the Tuscan Sun, 45 Years and Muriel's Wedding.
Casey (Haley Lu Richardson), works at the library and has a passion for architecture. She still lives with her single mother (Michelle Forbes), in Columbus, Indiana (not Ohio), but grapples with the decision of whether or not to finally leave her hometown. Jin (John Cho), the son of an architecture professor, meets Casey and the two of them gradually form a friendship with one another as they converse. He also has a potential love interest in an older woman (Parkey Posey), his father's colleague, while Gabriel (Rory Culkin) flirts with Casey.
Columbus is a complex, wise, and profoundly human drama with a deceptively lean premise. Writer/director Kogonada, unlike many modern directors, trusts the audience's intelligence, imagination, and patience concurrently. He understands the power of quiet moments and how slow, but not sluggish, pacing can allow patient audience members to fully absorb the poetic images and thought-provoking dialogue. Fortunately, the dialogue itself feels organic without any stiltedness or pretensiousness; there's one conversation about attention span that veers into pretension as the film becomes self-aware, but that moment is ephemeral. Columbus' emotional hook, though, is Casey and Jinn. Casey finds herself at a major turning point in her life as she toys with the possibility of unchaining herself to her mother, so-to-speak. Their relationship may not seem toxic at first, but its dysfunction and toxicity gradually rise to the surface. As the saying goes, the bird has to leave the nest at some point if it wants to learn how to survive autonomously.
Casey's relationship with Jin also can be found in the gray area: are they merely friends or more than just friends? Jin, just like Casey, goes through a turning point in his life as well: his estranged, gravely ill father might pass away soon, and he's unsure of whether or not to romance his father's colleague whom he always had a crush on. By the end of the film, both Casey and Jin make crucial decisions as they've each undergo an epiphany with the help of each other. Kogonada doesn't tie every subplot neatly with a bow, so you'll find a few unanswered questions lingering after the end credits role, but that's alright because this isn't the kind of film that spoon-feeds its audience as it were a baby. In other words, it's a movie for adults. Do you remember the days when films for adults used to rule the marketplace? Sadly, those days are long-gone, so it's refreshing when a film like Columbus comes along to remind you of the good 'ole days of American cinema.
Perhaps not surprisingly, architecture plays a big role in Columbus, so perceptive audiences members will have a lot to feast their eyes on as the camera lingers on an interesting-looking building with an equally interesting interior design. Can the architecture be seen as a metaphor for something? If so, then for what? Kogonada leaves those answers up to you. It would probably make a difference if you see the film on the big screen to fully immerse yourself in the set design and cinematography; unlike some dramas, it would lose some of its visual power on the small screen. At a running time of 1 hour and 44 minutes, Columbus is quietly moving, provocative, and refreshingly understated. It's the most wise and visually striking film since La Sapienza which also used architecture in a compelling way.
Marie Curie (Karolina Gruszka) and her husband, Pierre (Charles Berling), received the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1903. Pierre, who was also her research partner, died in a tragic accident leaving her with research that she had to complete on her own and with their two children to take care of. She continued to do research while developing a forbidden romance with Paul Langevin (Arieh Worthalter), a married scientist, which became a scandal just when she was about to receive a Nobel Prize for Chemistry in 1911.
Karolina Gruszka gives a bravura, tour de force performance as Marie Curie. She manages to find the emotional truth of her role while opening window into the character's soul. That window, so-to-speak, would not have existed were it not for the well-written, sensitive screenplay by writer/director Marie Noelle and Andrew Stroll which remains in humanism, a truly special effect, from start to finish. Bravo to them for not overstuffing the film with every stage of Marie Curie's life; they focus on Marie Curie during her adult life, on her human relationships, and on her psychological state of mind, although you do get a bit of a glimpse of her brilliant mind at work. It's interesting to observe how the filmmakers trust the audience's imagination by not showing certain crucial scenes, i.e. the death of Pierre. In other words, you experience his death from Marie's perspective and remain engrossed by the emotional grittiness instead of being shocked by physical violence.
Part of what makes Marie's character so compelling and even inspirational is her perservance after her husband dies. You do get to see her going through the process of grieving and suffering, but she doesn't let that get in the way of her passion for science. Not only does she learn to overcome her grief, she also learns to stand her ground and to fight for her rights as a woman in a male-dominated field. Not only did she want to be treated and recognized fairly as a woman, but also for her husband to be recognized equally without him being excluded. She's a true "wonder woman." That doesn't mean that she's not fallible, though, especially when it comes to engaging in a relationship with colleague who's still married, but that doesn't make her any more or less likable; she's just a fallible human being who follows her heart's desire. Everyone can relate to that in some way.
The exquisite cinematography and stylish editing help to enrich the film even further while make it more cinematic and atmospheric concurrently. The pace moves briskly; this is by no means a slow-burning or lethargic biopic. Every scene feels vibrant. One caveat, though, is that the use of split screen during one scene goes a bit too stylistically and takes away from the realism, but, fortunately, it's a very minor, ephemeral, and forgivable flaw. Much of the visuals look haunting, symbolic and breathtaking without being pretentious. At an ideal running time of 1 hour and 40 minutes, Marie Curie, is mesmerizing, heartfelt and powerful with an Oscar-worthy performance by Karolina Gruszka. It's one of the best films of the of the year.
The American Media & The Second Assassination of John F. Kennedy is a searing, enraging, and eye-opening documentary about how Jim Garrison, New Orleans' District Attorney from 1962-1973, had set out to prove, using the American justice system, that the CIA was actually behind the assassination of JFK on November 22nd, 1963, and that the mainstream media was responsible for covering up the truth with fake news/propaganda. Essentially, the mainstream media were like "Good Germans." Garrison was far from a Good German, though, as he dared to question the Warren Commission report which included very weak and even fabricated evidence that pointed to Lee Harvey Oswald as the lone gunman. He was not afraid to kick the hornet's nest, so-to-speak. The CIA wanted the public to believe that the bullet that killed JFK entered through the back of his head instead of the front like expert pathologists had observed but were suppressed. No one in the media questioned why JFK's motorcade route's plan was changed at the very last minute or why the car's bubble top was removed---or who made those decisions to begin with.
Director John Barbour blends archival footage from his 3-hour interview with Jim Garrison as well as video of the Zapruder tape, interviews with witnesses, and clips which show concrete evidence of how the mainstream media mislead the public with false information. There's even a clip of Noam Chomsky making a very callous statement about how little he cares about the JFK assassination or who was behind it. It's very suspicious that many witnesses and people related to the investigation died of "suspect" suicides after the assassination while no witnesses died during other well-known investigations like the O.J. Simpson murder case. Bravo to Jim Garisson and John Barbour for being true patriots, unlike the mainstream media who's has been and still is in bed with the U.S. government. The government is essentially a pimp while the mainstream media serves as its prostitutes. Media figures, i.e. Dan Rather, who helped the government spread misinformation to cover-up the truth about JFK's assassination became more wealthy and successful.
The film's running time of 2 hours and 10 minutes might seem a bit lengthy at first, but it does cover a lot of ground, and there's never a dull moment to be found. The crisp, fast-paced editing also helps to enliven the film. The narration by Barbour himself is humourous and witty at times---humor, after all, is a great way of hooking audiences. In other words, he manages to find just the right balance between entertaining the audience and provoking them emotionally as well as intellectually just like a truly great documentary ought to do. By the end of the film, you will never look at the mainstream media nor the CIA the same way again. Consider it your patriotic duty to see The American Media & The Second Assassination of John F. Kennedy. The film can now be found on Amazon VOD.
The Women's Balcony
Zion (Igal Naor) and his wife, Ettie (Evelin Hagoel), belong to an Orthodox community in Jerusalem. When they attend the Bar Mitzvah of their grandson at the synagogue, the balcony where the women pray at collapses all-of-a-sudden, injuring the rabbi's wife and leaving the rabbi so depressed that he's unable to continue working. Ultra-Orthodox Rabbi David (Avraham Aviv Alush) steps up to the plate as the new rabbi and creates a rift in the community after requiring women to observe modesty rules, i.e. covering their hair. He also gets rid of the women's balcony when the synagogue re-opens. The women refuse to obey Rabbi David, and raise money to build a new balcony, but that task becomes easier said than done when he stands in their way of reaching their goal.
The Women's Balcony effectively establishes its gently comedic tone from first few scenes as Ettie and Zion arrive at their grandson's Bar Mitzvah. Etti realizes that she forgot to bring candy that's supposed to be thrown from the balcony as part of the tradition. The tragic collapse of the balcony and the conflicts that arise in the aftermath are balanced by the many humorous, witty scenes found throughout the film. Screenwriter Shlomit Nehama clearly understands that comedy is derived from tragedy as she blends both with a light touch. Each of the characters feels like complex human beings instead of one-dimensional caricatures. Ettie and her friends, Margalit (Einat Saruf) and Ora (Sharon Elimelech), have different personalities that make them distinguishable, unique, and true-to-life.
Even though the plot takes mostly predictable turns, so what? It still offers some satisfying surprises along the way. For instance, Etti's delicious fruit salad, which you might consider to be insignificant at first, becomes something much more meaningful in the third act. As Ebert once wisely observed, what a film's plot is about is not as important as how the film goes about its plot. Fortunately, Nehama grasps the importance of grounding The Women's Balcony in humanism from start to finish. She wisely avoids preachiness, schmaltz and lethargy. The fact that the screenplay never becomes tonally uneven is yet another testament to its many strengths. The ending is uplifting, but it earns its uplift.
A large part of the film's warmth and charm comes from the well-chosen actresses who portray the women who bravely battle against the new rabbi's fundamentalism. Evelin Hagoel shines the brightest, but the other actresses also get their own chance to radiate warmth and charisma. At an ideal running time of 1 hour and 36 minutes, which feels more like 1 hour, The Women's Balcony is a crowd-pleasing, charming delight brimming with genuine warmth, wit, humor, and tenderness. If only more films were to have such rich and lively roles for older women! It's a cause for celebration!