Ausente

Last year, I have fallen in love with an Argentinian movie: Plan B.
As it is often the case, when I like a movie I immediately look on Facebook to see if there is a fan page. There wasn’t, though. So I tried with the name of the director: Marco Berger, and I found his personal page. I wrote to him, asking for friendship and telling him how crazy I was about his movie. He accepted. I became a virtual friend not only of Marco, but also of his two actors: Lucas Ferraro and Manuel Vignau. I made a post about the movie, and at the time of 2010 Zazie D’or, I happily assigned to Plan B the Zazie D’or for the Best First Feature Film and to Lucas and Manuel the award for Best Actors. When I advised them, they had the most wonderful reaction: they wrote enthusiastic messages to thank me for the prizes, even if they knew very well that those (unreal) prizes came from an unknown woman having a not famous cinema blog.
This is what I call the good things in life.

Few months ago, I read with excitement that the new movie by Marco, Ausente (Absent), was going to be screened at the 2011 Berlin Film Festival (where it actually won a “real” and important prize: the Teddy Award, the award assigned to the best movie having gay themes). I was really looking forward to seeing it and the other day, always thanks to the Festival Paris Cinéma, I had this chance.
I believe that in a director’s career, the second movie is even more important then the first one. Ausente not only confirmed Marco’s talent, but it also indicates that a new author is born!

Martin is a 16 years old guy. One day, at the end of a swimming class, he claimed to have a problem in his eyes. His coach, Sebastian, brings him first to the hospital and then home. Nobody is at Martin’s place, though, and Sebastian is obliged to let him spend the night at his apartment. It is only the next day that the teacher finds out Martin’s lie: his parents were home, waiting for him. Why Martin wanted to spend the night at his place? Which were his real intentions?
Marco Berger does something very interesting in his movies: he takes a cinema genre, and it turns it into something else. The two pictures have much in common: they start in a certain way (Plan B as a light romantic comedy, Ausente almost as a thriller) and then they both become a quest about desire and unexpected feelings. What is very particular and delicate, in Ausente, is that one of the two characters is underage. Nevertheless, even in this case, Marco reverses the usual roles. This is not the story of a teacher abusing his pupil, but quite the opposite: the most dangerous one, here, is the young guy. But it is exactly when the audience starts to believe that this is going to be a movie about a bad boy, that the film changes and enters into deepest and much troubled waters, the ones of human desires.
I love the way Marco is filming all this. His camera is ON the bodies, as if it was a little animal on the skin of Sebastian and Martin. The shots are simple, clear, essential, wrapping. And once again, the two actors are great: Javier De Pietro has the right face to portrait Martin: he is young, good looking, and his eyes can turn from innocent to seductive in a blink, while Carlos Echevarria (well known in Italy for his roles in Garage Olimpo and Hijos/Figli by Marco Bechis), with his quite and melancholic performance, let us enter into the movie in a special and privileged way.

Marco's movies have one of the greatest quality art can have: a semplicity that rimes with depth and intensity. The only thing is ausente, here, is bad and ordinary cinema.

Que viva Argentina! 

Jerzy Skolimowski, Essential Filming

In these days in Paris there is a great film-festival, the Festival Paris Cinéma, that takes place at the beginning of July every year since 2002. I love it: the offer of movies is simply AMAZING! The program foresees an international competition, various premières, complete retrospectives of few authors and a bunch of guests of honour as well as a country of honour (Mexico, in this case). One of this year’s special guests is the Polish film-maker Jerzy Skolimowski, whose cinema has always intrigued me. On Tuesday night, Skolimoswki was at the Nouveau Latina for a meeting with the public and your indefatigable cinema blogger was there!

Skolimowski (born in Lodz in 1938) looks like a cool, clever and ironic guy: very elegant, a pair of dark sunglasses to cover his eyes, he talked to the audience for more than one hour about his cinema. He doesn’t speak French, so there was a translator ready to let us understand his ideas and thoughts. Skolimowski started his career by co-writing Roman Polanski’s first feature-length, the incredible Knife in the water (a must-seen of cinema history) while still attending the prestigious Lodz National Film School. Between 1964 and 1984, he completed six semi-autobiographical features in which he sometimes played the main role (because, he confessed, when he was young he didn’t have the money to hire a professional actor). As a matter of fact, he kept playing in movies, and you can maybe remember him in LA without a map by Mika Kaurismaki, Before Night Falls by Julian Schnabel or in Eastern Promises by David Cronenberg. After a series of movies based upon novels that he made "for money" and that didn’t contain any “personal element” (by his own admission), Skolimowski stopped making films at the end of the 80s. Luckily enough, he made a coming back in 2008 with the great Four Nights with Anna and then last year with Essential Killing. The movie won the Special Jury Prize at the 2010 Venice Film Festival and Vincent Gallo the Best Actor's award for his incredible interpretation of this Taliban escaping from justice through the cold, snowy and lonely Polish mountains.  

Traumatised by the Second World War (his father was killed by the Nazis), Skolimowski had troubles also with the Polish censorship and was obliged to quit his country (he then lived in London and in LA for many years). While presenting one of his movies in NY in the late 60s, he received a letter from Jean-Luc Godard in which the French film-maker tried to cheer him up towards bad critics: “Don’t worry about what the American critics are writing on your cinema... you and I, we are the best directors in the world!”.

The meeting with the public was followed by the screening of a real gem: Moonlighting, a movie that Skolimowski filmed in London in 1981. I was personally LONGING to see this picture again: I saw it just once in the 80s and I had the most wonderful memory of it. And now I better understand why.
Moonlighting tells the story of four Polish workers arriving in London to renovate their boss apartment. Only one of them, Novak, is able to speak English, and becomes the intermediary between the other three and their new reality. Being illegal workers, they are obliged to stay hidden in the apartment: they are lonely, away from their country and their families, and short on money. Worst of all, when Novak finds out that in Polland the martial law has been declared after a military putsch, he decides not to give the news to his mates. Will they be able to complete the work they came in England for? Will they be able to go back to their country?  

Outstanding and intense social drama, Moonlighting is Skolimowski’s cinema at its best: the style is essential, almost dry, the scenes are constructed to build up a sense of instability, doubt, anguish and alienation. The progressive distance between Novak and the other workers is subtly and masterfully composed. It is almost a thriller, where the suspense is created by unexpected and uneasy events. A story of survival (as it is often the case in Skolimowski’s cinema) and of loss of innocence (the corrupt and capitalistic Western part of Europe vs the innocent and communist Eastern part but also the dramatic drift of the communism). With just few dialogues and a powerful composition of key-scenes, Skolimowski delivered us a true masterpiece. Easy task, I have to say, when you can count on Jeremy Irons to play Novak. Irons, 33 years old at the time, was known until then for his roles in Brideshead Revisited and The French Lieutenant’s Woman. In Moonlighting, he shows what he is able to do: MERAVIGLIE! (oh, and in Polish, of course).   
An essential actor in an essential movie.

Sicilia Queer Filmfest 2011

Una delle cose più belle di avere un blog, l'ho già detto più di una volta, è che si incontrano tantissime persone con la tua stessa passione. 
Di solito, questa è l'anticamera di una bella amicizia: quando stai lì a parlare per ore di quell'inquadratura , di quel dialogo, di quell'attore, di quanto ti faccia schifo il doppiaggio ecc. ecc., alla fine succede che inizi a parlare di altre cose e ti ritrovi come per incanto nella vita di qualcun'altro. Parecchi mesi fa mi ha scritto un ragazzo siciliano che di nome fa Andrea ma che in realtà tutti conoscono come il "capo" del blog di Via Rigattieri. Io e il capo abbiamo iniziato a parlare di cinema ed è stata la fine! O meglio: l'inizio della famosa amicizia di cui sopra. Di recente ci siamo anche conosciuti di persona, in un suo passaggio qui a Parigi, e abbiamo fatto mille progetti come se fossimo due della Nouvelle Vague in trasferta spazio-tempo (si sa, i caffé parigini fanno questo effetto, a volte).
Qualche settimana fa abbiamo anche partecipato insieme (ma diciamola tutta, più che il capo, è stata la sua dolce metà Nicoletta ad aiutarmi!) al FilmQuiz lanciato da Nanni Moretti sul suo sito, con risultati scarsissimi, ma non importa, perché è stato divertente scambiare messaggi e stare lì delle ore come degli scemi a pensare a dei titoli di film (grazie Nanni!... e grazie Nicoletta!).
Il capo comunque è un tipo infaticabile, e come un giocoliere è stato capace di tirar fuori dal cappello un numero di magia di gran classe: è tra gli organizzatori del primo festival di cinema a tematica glbt (gay-lesbica-bisex-transgender) in Sicilia! Vabbé, un grande!  Il festival si chiama SICILIA QUEER FILMFEST, e si svolgerà da domani, 20 Giugno, fino a domenica, 26 Giugno, al Cinema Rouge et Noir di Palermo.
Amici siciliani, accorrete in massa a vedere i bellissimi film che il capo ha messo insieme per l'occasione. Il festival, diretto da Alessandro Rais, prevede un concorso di corti, una rassegna non competitiva di film lunghi, incontri con registi come Luca Guadagnino (che presenterà il suo Io sono l'amore), incontri con scrittori e due mostre fotografiche. In particolare, sappiate che potrete gustarvi il film preferito di Zazie del 2010: Les Amours Imaginaires dell'enfant prodige québécois Xavier Dolan (sottotitolato per l'occasione dal capo in persona e dalla mia amica Manù, la traduttrice dal francese all'italiano che tutti vorrebbero avere: Les Mots Traduits).
E per quelli che non sono Sicilia: spargete la voce, parlatene, fate pubblicità, date un'occhiata alla pagina Facebook del festival, andate in giro con un megafono e invece dell'arrotino, urlate C'è il Sicilian Queer Filmfest!
Perché in Italia qualcosa si sta muovendo, e nella giusta direzione!
  

Beginners

Movies are like people.

Sometimes we meet somebody, and we feel a special connection to him/her. We feel like we talk the same language, we have the same thoughts, the same fears, and we can share feelings and experiences. Sometimes we go to the movies, and we find a film able to touch our souls using a common language, a similar way of imagining things, and conceiving this life. It is not every day, though. And this is why it is so special when it happens.

Yesterday night I went to see a "movie-friend": Beginners, by American film-maker Mike Mills (who, by the way, is married to one of my favourite artists in this world, the incredibly gorgeous and talended Miranda July).
It tells the story of Oliver, a 38 years old graphic artist, who's going through a very sad moment of his life: he just lost his father, Hal. While still in mourning, he met at a party the beautiful and bizarre French actress Anna, with whom he fell in love. Oliver's head is plenty of memories of his father and mother (who died 5 years before his dad). After his mum died, Hal, at the age of 75, made his coming out, declaring he’s been gay his whole life. Oliver witnesses his father's new life with a mixture of joy and disbelief: Hal has a younger boy-friend, an intense social life, he's surrounded by new friends and supports many activities related to the gay cause. For Oliver, who was used to see him as a quite and sad man, this is a revelation. Few years afterwards, though, Hal finds out to have a cancer stage 4 and he soon dies. Oliver is left with a lovely (and talking!) dog, Arthur, a big and empty house, and the desire - for the very first time in his life - to have a happy and possibly lasting relationship.
When I read that this was the real story of Mills, I wasn’t surprised at all. This movie has a very particular and personal touch, which permeates every scene and influences its style and its pitch. The film-maker achieves here to create something quite rare on screen: to talk about really heavy stuff (illness, death, wrong marriages, sexual identity, depression, difficulties inside families and difficulties in relationships) in an incredibly light, funny and intelligent way. We instantly feel close to Oliver’s character and his sad but amusing attitude towards life: the introduction of his house to Arthur, his dad’s dog, is one of the most surreal scenes ever. Oliver seems constantly amazed by what human existence is able to offer, in the bad and in the good sense, and isn’t this what we all experience every day?
Mills has been blessed by the most wonderful cast: Ewan MacGregor is like the good wine, the older the better, and at each new movie demonstrates there is no limit to the range of roles he can (incredibly well) play. Sweet, shy and irresistible as the gay partner of Jim Carrey in I love you, Phillip Morris, lost and scared in the Polanski’s masterpiece The Ghost Writer and the king of subtlety in this one: he is always more than perfect, never overacting, with a glimpse of Jacques Tati in his manner and his look. Mélanie Laurent, after her exploit in Inglorious Basterds by Tarantino, proves to make the right choices for her international career and she is simply lovely in this movie, while Christopher Plummer, as Hal, is simply to die for. What a great, fantastic, amazing actor he is. Born in Toronto in 1929, Plummer has been a stage actor more than a screen actor, but every time I see him in a film I wonder why he is not more famous than he is. For this role, I hope he will be covered with prizes. But it is impossible not to mention another important actor: Arthur, the dog. More human than a human being, thanks to the subtitles he even has a voice (but he admits to know not more than 150 words!). The dialogues between him and Oliver are so cute that you just want to have the same at home. 

Beginners leaves you with the nice feeling that it is never too late to start a new life. We maybe need to be brave (and crazy) enough to face the challenges that life is imposing on us. Anything can help: a sad event, the right person, a talking dog, a blog.
Just never forget: life is what you make of it! 

La scelta di Zazie

Essere cinefili a Parigi, vi assicuro, è vita dura.
La verità è che per riuscire a vedere tutto quello che questa città offre in termini di possibilità cinematografiche, bisognerebbe rientrare in una delle seguenti categorie: studenti (ho passato ampliamente l’età), pensionati (non ho ancora l’età!), disoccupati (per fortuna un lavoro ce l’ho), o nullafacenti (sarebbe bello, ma non me lo posso permettere).
Quindi, il momento in cui ogni mercoledi mattina acquisto Télérama per controllare il nuovo programma delle sale è, per dirla come in un film: una gioia e una sofferenza (un premio a chi riconosce questa “doppia” citazione truffautiana!).
Questa settimana non ha fatto eccezione.
Ho aperto l’inserto culturale e ho trovato, film nuovi in uscita a parte, le seguenti opportunità (e NON le cito tutte!!!):
Cycle David Lynch 
Cycle Jean-Luc Godard
Cycle Stanely Kubrick
19° Festival Le court qui en dit long (il corto che la dice lunga, geniale!)
Chroniques d’Iran
Le Cinéma des Africanistes
La Comédie à l’Italienne
Festival Parfums de Lisbonne (come si può resistere?)
Films inédits de Jean-Pierre Mocky
Grands Classiques Français: Lino Ventura
Hommage à Jan Svankmajer (e questo chi è???)
Intégrale Wojciech J. Has (vedi sopra)
Marrakech du Rire
Richesse du Cinéma Hollywoodien
Robert De Niro, The King of Comedy
Terrence Malick, avant la Palme
Tigres et Pandas (???)
Woody à Paris

Capite bene che, avendo a disposizione solo 24 ore al giorno, e togliendo il tempo necessario a lavorare, mangiare e dormire, tutto no, non si può fare.
L’altro ieri ho letto sconsolata il lungo elenco delle infinite meraviglie nascoste nei cinema di Parigi e poi sono stata costretta a fare la mia scelta. Ho controllato sale, ubicazione, messo a confronto orari, comodità di luogo, ecc. ecc. e alla fine sono andata a vedere... X-Men: First Class.
Stupiti? Me ne rendo conto.
Ma di fronte alla prospettiva di Michael Fassbender e James McAvoy sullo stesso schermo per 2 ore e 15 minuti, vi assicuro, non c’è per me cinefilia che tenga.
Sono una blogger, non sono una santa...

 

Jacques Demy & The Fleet Week

I'm in New York City for my job, with no time to go to the movies, unfortunately, but this doesn't mean I don't think about cinema.
In these last days, the city has been invaded by sailors: it is Fleet Week. Every time I see a sailor, I can't help myself: I immediately think about Jacques Demy and his Les Demoiselles de Rochefort, plenty of dancing sailors and girls wearing lovely dresses with bright colours. 
I am staying at this cute hotel, having a certain Mad Men style and the perfect name for the circumstance: Maritime Hotel. The other day, coming back from a dinner, you may not believe me but I actually saw a sailor and a beautiful girl dancing in the lobby.
I looked at them, puzzled: were they real or were they coming from my imagination?
They were real, simply part of the magical power that this city has.
I took the elevator and I started dancing myself. 
Nobody could see me, but I'm sure that Jacques Demy would have approved!

Norwegian Wood (ノルウェーの森)

Non esiste limite, per me, al numero di visioni possibili di una stessa pellicola. Sono capace di imparare i dialoghi a memoria, rivedere le stesse scene 40 volte, riprovare l'identico piacere nel sentire per la centesima volta la stessa replica.
Con i libri, invece, non mi capita quasi mai. Il potere delle parole esercita su di me una diversa fascinazione, che molto ha a che vedere con l'istante, con il qui e l'adesso, con il magico che si sprigiona mentre leggo una frase, e se la rileggo mi pare che in qualche modo qualcosa si perda. Esiste tuttavia un'eccezione, uno stesso libro che ho letto a distanza di moltissimi anni (a 20 e 40): Norwegian Wood, di Haruki Murakami. E non è un caso. Norwegian Wood è uno dei miei romanzi preferiti, e ricordo di essere rimasta folgorata da tutto la prima volta che l'ho letto: la storia, l'ambientazione (Tokyo alla fine degli anni '60), i personaggi (in particolare da quello di Midori, un amore a prima vista!), il meraviglioso stile narrativo di Murakami. E' un libro speciale anche perché molto legato alla mia vita: stavo studiando giapponese, in quegli anni, e la traduzione in italiano del romanzo era stata affidata a quello che, ancora oggi, è il mio miglior amico. E' quindi con grande aspettativa mista ad un po' di preoccupazione che sono andata a vedere la trasposizione cinematografica del libro, diretta dal regista vietnamita Tran  Anh Hung e scritta da lui e dallo stesso Murakami (questo mi faceva ben sperare!).
Nella Tokyo della fine degli anni '60, quella delle contestazioni studentesche, Toru Watanabe, un giovane universitario, si trova a vivere uno dei momenti più intensi della sua vita. Ritrovata per caso Naoko, che è stata la ragazza del suo miglior amico Kizuki, suicidatosi un paio d'anni prima, Toru si innamora di lei, ricambiato, ma per Naoko è impossibile riuscire a vivere questo amore. Mai completamente rimessasi dal suicidio di Kizuki, la ragazza decide di farsi ricoverare in una struttura psichiatrica, lontana dalla città e immersa in una foresta, dove Toru riesce a farle visita di quando in quando (nei pochi momenti in cui Naoko sente di poter gestire la sua presenza). Nel frattempo, a Tokyo, Toru incontra una strana ragazza, Midori, un miscuglio di energia, follia e tenerezza straripanti, dalla quale si sente irresistibilmente attratto. Ma un nuovo, drammatico evento, darà una svolta alla sua vita, precipitandolo in maniera drammatica dall'adolescenza all'età adulta. 
Dirò subito le cose che non mi sono piaciute del film, e prima fra tutte la scelta dell'attrice che interpreta Midori. Forse perché amo incondizionatamente questo personaggio e ne ho un'idea ben precisa in testa, ho trovato che il fim non le rende per nulla giustizia. Midori è una forza della natura, è una mezza pazza, forse nemmeno tanto bella, ma viva, sensuale, allegra, una specie di tornado. Kiko Mizuhara, l'attrice scelta per interpretarla (in realtà una cantante molto famosa in Giappone qui alla sua prima prova cinematrografica), è bellissima ma per nulla speciale, tutt'al più semplicemente "simpatica". Questo è un vero peccato, perchè una grande forza del libro stava nella differenza tra le due donne di cui Toru è innamorato, mentre nel film si ha l'impressione che siano piuttosto simili, problemi psicologici a parte. L'altro difetto, piuttosto inevitabile quando si tratta di condensare in poco tempo un materiale narrativo tanto ricco, è la perdita di alcuni passaggi o di alcune storie fondamentali (come quella magnifica di Reiko, ad esempio, la compagna di stanza di Naoko in clinica). Infine, c'è il difetto tipico di tutti i film di Tran Anh Hung: l'eccessiva perfezione stilistica delle immagini. Persino nel momento di massimo dolore, di assoluta disperazione, il quadro è impeccabile, gli oggetti mai fuori posto, la natura aggiustata a regola d'arte. Verrebbe voglia di andare lì e spaccare tutto o almeno mettere qualcosa in disordine (e ve lo scrive la blogger più control freak dell'universo). Detto questo, il film è un'ottima trasposizione del romanzo, grandioso nel catturare e ricreare una certa atmosfera che si sprigiona dalle pagine del libro (mi sono detta che qui c'entrava molto Murakami), la forza, il romanticismo e l'assoluto delle storie d'amore di quando si hanno 20 anni, con alcuni momenti davvero potentissimi (come il lungo monologo di Naoko in mezzo all'erba alta, una scena straordinaria, dove l'emozione supera di gran lunga la perfezione dell'immagine). Molto azzeccata la scelta dei due interpreti principali: Rinko Kikuchi (già apprezzatissima in Babel di Inarritu) è la fragile e tormentata Naoko, mentre Kenichi Matsuyama (giovanissimo ma già molti film all'attivo in patria) è il solitario e romantico Toru. 
Qualche anno fa, in una calda estate giapponese, mi è capitato (ありがとうございます, Amitrano-san!) di prendere il té con Haruki Murakami nel suo studio di Tokyo. Dato che si trattava di uno dei miei scrittori preferiti in assoluto, ero al settimo cielo ma anche molto stupita di essere così in soggezione. Io che di solito non ho vergogna di niente, di fronte a quell'uomo così silenzioso e discreto, non avevo il coraggio di proferire parola. Murakami aveva uno sguardo vivo e indagatore, e nonostante non si possa definirlo un bell'uomo, emanavano dalla sua persona un fascino ed un carisma inauditi. Sulla porta, prima di uscire, a sorpresa, Murakami mi ha fatto i complimenti per la borsa che portavo (una Marimekko, evviva i designer finlandesi!): ma come ha fatto a notare la borsa che avevo? ho pensato stupita. Misterioso, intelligente ed imprevedibile, proprio come i suoi romanzi.  

Animal Kingdom

 

Melbourne, Australia. A boy is seated on a sofa in a poor living room: he is looking at some stupid TV program, while a woman is (apparently) sleeping near him. Somebody knock on the door, and two paramedics enter the room. Are you the one who called? They ask the boy. Yes, he answers, his eyes still glued to the screen. What did she take? Heroin.  

Welcome to the movie with the chilliest first scene of the whole cinema history, welcome to Animal Kingdom.
That woman, just for you to know, was the boy’s mother, and she is dead. For 17 years she tried to keep her son away from the rest of her lovely family, but now that she is gone, Josh is obliged to call his grandma and see if she is willing to help (knowing that mum and daughter didn’t talk to each other for ages…). Grandma is (unfortunately) ready to take care of him and Josh is welcomed inside the Cody family, the least suitable one in the world for a young mind. The Codys are a bunch of bad criminals: the eldest is Andrew “Pope”, specialized in armed robberies, the middle one is Craig, a drug dealer, and the youngest is Darren, the weakest one, who follows the other two in their crazy plans. Above them all, like a dark queen, mum Janine “Smurf” reigns. After one of their partners in crime is shot dead by the police, Andrew and Craig start a vengeance that will suck them into a spiral of deadly consequences. Young Josh, torn between his family, his girlfriend, and a detective who wants to take him out of troubles, will find himself in a very bad position. Will he be able to save himself?  
First feature film (wow!) by young Australian director David Michôd, Animal Kingdom (Winner of the Sundance Film Festival 2010) is a modern greek tragedy of epic proportions. It is tough, gloomy and hopeless: no light at the end of this dark tunnel, I am afraid. It is also one of the most anxious movies ever: you literally expect the worst at every moment, and very often the worst arrives and still surprises you. It is interesting to see and live things through the eyes of young, naïve (sometimes irritatingly so) Josh, and to feel frightened by the experiences he is going through. Families are deadly, I read once in a book, and this is particularly true for the Codys. Michôd seems to have had good maestri at school (Scorsese docet) but his style is very personal and he creates a scruffy, vaguely 70’s universe that suits perfectly to the story.  
The cast: the Codys brothers are spectacular, especially Ben Mendelsohn as the “Pope”, so good in hiding his craziness under a still surface. In the role of Sergeant Nathan Leckie, Guy Pierce is simply perfect. I love, love, love this actor: he is such a chameleon. In his career, he has played: a drag queen carrying the most incredible Abba’s souvenir in the middle of the Australian bush (The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the desert), the toughest and heartless American detective (L.A. Confidential), an anguished and very confused man (Memento), Andy Wharol (Factory Girl), a criminal who has to take a tough decision in a weird Australian western written and directed by Nick Cave (The Proposition), a king who prefers love to kinging (The King’s Speech) and, in this movie, a stern but very human police officer who tries his best to make Melbourne a better place to live (good luck!). James Frecheville as young Josh is almost too good to be true and I prefer to see him in another movie before giving you my opinion, but the real gem, here, is without any doubt Jacki Weaver. Her portrayal of the scary, amazingly cruel, probably incestuous mother is unforgettable. The actress manages to show all the subtleties and the ambiguousness of this terrifying human being with so much charisma that you can’t get enough of her.
You are just very happy to know that she is on the screen and, well, she is not your mother.