My Brother Is An Only Child

"Yeah, I don't get the title either...
but I bet it sounds pretty in Italian."

Whereas Italian writer/director Daniele Luchetti’s previous cinematic charmer Ginger and Cinnamon made the perfect foreign intellectual antidote to our superficial chick flicks (like Because I Said So), his follow-up film couldn’t be more different. Instead of a contemporary, female-driven romantic comedy like Ginger co-written by and starring his talented, high verbal wife Stefania Montorsi (think the Italian version of Said’s equally gifted Lauren Graham of Gilmore Girls fame), this time he sought inspiration from Antonio Pennacchi’s book Il Fasciocommunista.

Although anything is preferable to that name, no favors were done when the movie was saddled with the unfortunate title My Brother Is An Only Child, which was derived from Rino Gaetano’s song (IMDb). (This being said, possibly if I spoke Italian or was familiar with the song, I’d get the joke but I don’t and I’m not so I don’t but if you do and you are and you do, please help an American out by sending me an e-mail.)

After receiving the prestigious “Un Certain Regard” from the Cannes Film Festival, the film also received nine nominations and five awards in 2007 at the Italian version of our Academy Awards — the Donatellos. Recently released on DVD with zero features and barely visible, miniscule subtitles that cause eyestrain, My Brother Is An Only Child tells the story of two very different brothers coming of age in the 1960s and '70s amidst political upheaval. Although they find themselves on opposite ends of the party spectrum, which would be bad enough, it’s escalated when revolution breaks out and all the more so when they’re drawn to the same woman.

If this sounds familiar to Italian foreign film lovers, it should (and not just to those who may have read the book with the daunting title). For Brother, Luchetti collaborated with the talented screenwriting team behind the structurally and thematically similar yet vastly superior 2003 miniseries The Best of Youth, which earned its place on numerous Top Ten lists that year of film buffs in the know. While at roughly two hours Brother can’t be as epic in scope as the six-hour Youth, it still pales in comparison to one of the best miniseries in recent memory, especially when the plots are so maddeningly similar that one can’t help but contrast and compare.

However, the astute marketing team at THINKFilm tried to remedy this before Brother’s release by releasing a clever but misleading trailer. Although it still echoes Youth and does evolve into stirring melodrama near the end, complete with the swelling of a beautiful orchestra, the footage erroneously sets up Luchetti’s film to be far funnier and jovial than the end result. Thus, sort of pigeonholing the work into the ever-popular European genre of coming-of-age with a dysfunctional family and/or trying to break out of a relative’s shadow.

And while incidentally Brother does include both of these plots along with the obligatory Jules and Jim-like love triangle for good measure, it’s a darker work than one would expect with characters that aren’t as likable as one would guess from the footage below.

My Brother is an Only Child: Original Theatrical Trailer

Yet, despite this and rather forced nostalgia which doesn’t come as naturally as it did in Youth, My Brother Is An Only Child is a work of the utmost quality. It chronicles the tale of the smart but bitter Accio (Ellio Germano) who has always been the family’s Jan Brady, next to his older, handsome, flirtatious, and mischevious brother Manrico (Riccardo Scamarcio), whose parents, neighbors, and beautiful girlfriend Francesca (Diane Fleri) act as though he hung the moon. While Manrico has become a veritable voice of the people with his growing involvement as a Communist spokesperson and lead protester — out of equal parts brotherly annoyance and feeling a kinship with the neighbors he seems to prefer to his own family — Accio joins the Fascists.

Although predictably as events heat up and both get a glimpse of the best and worst of their parties, Accio has a change of heart and switches sides, things soon spiral out of control as the brothers begin to realize what’s really important and ironically adopt the best qualities of each other whether it’s Manrico’s bravery or Accio’s thoughtfulness.

In the end, Luchetti offers us a truly memorable conclusion that admittedly made my appreciation for the film rise considerably. Depicting a stirring mini-revolution led by Accio on a much quieter yet more effective and smaller scale — with no violence and all soul — Luchetti manages to capture our hearts in a way that had been lacking for a better part of the picture and keeping it fresh in our minds long after we hit eject. Therefore with this in mind and given the stellar performances and production value, it’s recommendable on that level alone.

And while no doubt, Brother would have benefited from larger and more legible subtitles, in between squinting at the text, Luchetti and company opened my eyes much wider to a political situation that most casual moviegoers wouldn’t normally see. While the radical and tumultuous era of the '60s and '70s have been well-documented in countless American films, they’ve mostly dealt with the situation either right here on our land or in Vietnam. More specifically, they've failed to explore what was going on in other countries with some of the riots in France in the late '60s or indeed the events in Italy depicted in this film and Best of Youth and for more knowledge of such, we must turn our attention towards international cinema (even when it arrives with a nonsensical name).

And while Brother is an above average work, ultimately, for my favorite Luchetti film in recent memory, I’d still have to direct your attention to the appetizing Ginger and Cinnamon. Likewise, for those seeking a thematically similar yet infinitely more powerful depiction of the political scene of the era in Italy, movie lovers should look no further than the unforgettable Best of Youth, also available on DVD.

French Postcards (1979)

Director:
Willard Huyck

As soon as the college exchange students arrive in Paris, they are advised to wipe everything American from their minds in order to fully immerse themselves in the sophisticated elegance of French culture.

While normally when the words are uttered by someone as alluring as Marie-France Pisier (Love on the Run), they should leave an indelible mark on her new young pupils, unfortunately the effect becomes comedic instead of philosophical when just shortly thereafter, she gets into a French language shouting match with their obnoxious tour bus driver. However as both a professor and co-director of the Institute of French Studies, consummate professional Catherine Tessier (Pisier) recovers flawlessly, flashing her trademark beguiling smile while segueing into the clichéd adage that the students will remember the time they spent there for the rest of their lives.

It’s the same sentiment that the blonde, neurotic, lost soul Laura (Baby Doll actress Carroll Baker’s daughter Blanche Baker) takes as a warning, scribbling endless postcards to David, her boyfriend back home in the states while keeping her sightseeing itinerary even more packed than her school schedule, promising both David and herself that she will see all 212 important French sites listed in the Michelin Guide. While Laura gives professionals specializing in travelogues a run for their money, her fellow students seem far more interested in researching Parisian l’amour as handsome Oberlin College exchange student Alex (Devil Wears Prada star David Marshall Grant) develops a stalker-like interest on Catherine, despite her marriage to the snobbishly rude Jean Rochefort (Man on the Train).

Unlike his nervous, indecisive but sweet roommate Joel (Howard the Duck’s Miles Chapin) who seems more contented to keep their elderly widowed caretaker company while watching Star Trek reruns in French, the aspiring musician David shares that he was so desperate to get the hell out of Ohio, he would’ve joined the Foreign Legion in order to get to Paris. While David continues to follow Catherine around the city, hoping she’ll share his feelings, soon enough David’s argument that Joel shouldn’t act like a prisoner since he’s in a foreign country, prompt Joel to make a bold move and telephone the independent-minded but adorable Toni (the sadly late Valerie Quennessen) for a date, which leads to hilariously unexpected results.

Filled with chance encounters and characters bonding with others they may not have given a second glance to if they’d met on their own American soil, this likably energetic and fast-paced romantic coming of age comedy boasts another fine script from talented, married American Graffiti and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom authors Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck (who also directed). In addition, French Postacards seems like a nice predecessor to Cedric Klapisch’s more allegorical yet similarly themed 2002 film L’Auberge Espagnole (a.k.a. The Spanish Apartment). Despite the fact that Chapin’s Joel does recall Richard Dreyfuss’ similarly indecisive Curt Henderson from Graffiti, while some critics have disregarded Postcards as a merely forgettable, French rehash of American Graffiti, that seems like a bit of a short-sighted dismissal to this reviewer who actually considers Graffiti to be one of her all-time favorite American films.

Featuring a young Debra Winger in an early supporting blink-and-you’ve-missed-it role, aside from excellent work by the young cast, the film’s ultimate scene-stealer arrives in the last thirty minutes of the film with the introduction of Mandy Patinkin’s admittedly stereotypical yet hilarious Iranian full-time travel agent, part-time womanizer Sayyid. Similar to his quotable (“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die.”) work in The Princess Bride, Patinkin’s Sayyid helps pick up the pace when the film threatens to move into melodrama as the young lovers face romantic speed-bumps in their relationships. Intriguingly, while it would’ve been tempting for most writers to include a buffoon-like character late in the game as a mere diversion or to add to the film’s running time if they’ve begun to run out of plot points, the inventive Katz and Huyck actually utilize the actions of his character to propel the story forward. Incidentally, this leads to an interesting and much needed arc for the character of Laura, which I’d frankly never seen coming.

Originally produced by Paramount Pictures, despite the undeniable age of the film print, this overlooked 1979 classic is sure to resonate with college travelers today. It may also pick up additional momentum with its recent release on DVD by Legend Films, especially considering not only all the great talent involved (including Pisier and Rochefort) but those who may have seen American Graffiti one too many times and are in desperate need of a European change of scenery.

Greener Mountains

Director:
Lee Shallat Chemel

In Giuseppe Tornatore’s The Legend of 1900, after an abandoned baby is left aboard a great ocean liner, he spends the rest of his life at sea. And although he’s tempted by love, as an adult, “1900” (Tim Roth) finds himself unable to leave the vessel that has become his home. While 1900’s oceanic landscape endlessly changed as the ship moved from port to port and his circumstances were played for melancholic fairy tale like whimsy in Tornatore’s period piece, in four-time Emmy nominated director Lee Shallat Chemel’s feature film debut Greener Mountains, we’re offered a similar set-up but a decidedly sunnier approach.

In Chemel’s contemporary, warmly inviting film, although the equally abandoned child JP Barton (Chris Heuisler) has also lived in the same location where he was discovered and for him the view never changes, after only a few introductory, gorgeously photographed shots, we realize that compared to 1900, he’s living in a far more idyllic situation. Set amidst the breathtakingly picturesque Vermont setting of Barton’s Family Resort, we instantly recall Chemel’s other television credits working in other welcoming communities such as Gilmore Girls’ Stars Hollow and Northern Exposure’s Cicely, Alaska. After a cinematographic dream of a credit sequence in which any single frame could be pulled out and turned into a postcard, we’re introduced to the now college-aged JP who nearly runs the resort alongside his best friend, caretaker and the only family he’s ever known, Barton’s owner M (Nan Martin) who also narrates the film.

While M’s slightly clichéd narration and the film’s frequent, confusing, and poorly transitioned over-reliance on flashbacks do pull us out of the film at times, it’s such an engaging, appealing, and refreshingly wholesome summer sleeper that those who are willing to overlook the contrivances will find themselves entertained. An ideal family film that seems like a perfect programming choice for a cable family or teen based network, Greener Mountains evolves into a romantic coming of age tale as the sweet-natured JP finds himself questioning his limited existence when the lovely Alice (General Hospital’s Kimberly McCullough) arrives from New York, hoping for artistic inspiration and an escape from a recent breakup.

Naturally, JP is drawn to the young painter but fears that the true details of his life would fail to impress a brainy city girl. So, predictably, especially for the romantic comedy paradigm which lately has favored the mistaken identity plot device, completely head over heels and willing to do anything to win her heart, he proceeds to fabricate an entire back-story about himself, trying to pass as an NYU student specializing in environmental architecture. Enlisting the aid of a friend in giving him a crash course on artistic masterpieces and Manhattan geography, JP and Alice grow much closer but their fledging relationship is threatened with the arrival of his manipulative, scheming, smugly handsome and conceited relative Eric (Brad Raider).

Essentially playing a Rob Lowe type versus Alice’s likable Alyssa Milano-like presence and JP’s easily winning, boyish Jake Gyllenhaal demeanor, we realize it’s only a matter of time before Eric — M’s grandson and JP’s adopted uncle — draws a wedge between the two. And although we sense he’s felt a certain rivalry and jealousy with the adopted and universally preferred and loyal JP, Eric’s true motives are revealed later on as we realize that he’s even more obsessed with the elderly M’s failing health and the future of the resort, which pushes the romance to the back burner as JP realizes not only how much is at stake but must make some tough decisions about his own future and just what he considers to be important in his life.

Respecting the intelligence of the audience who have faced several “lying lovers” and “spoiled schemers” plots, writer Hector Hill and director Chemel enrich what could have been an overly formulaic script by filling out the rest of the cast with some great supporting scene stealers including Christopher Guest alumni Michael Hitchcock as well as a nice parallel between the main story and the resort’s annual production of William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Despite a small screen feel, Greener Mountains is painterly photographed quality fare from Waterfall Films, which recently made its debut on DVD after earning a Jury Award at the Boston International Film Festival.

Brideshead Revisited (2008)

Director:
Julian Jarrold

As much pressure as there is when making a period film to keep contemporary viewers interested, extra hurdles are added when the period film is based on one of the most critically acclaimed books of the twentieth century. And the anxiety doubles when it was also adapted into what most devotees assumed was the definitive take on the source material in a wildly popular, classic twelve-hour British miniseries. In taking on Brideshead Revisited, instantly one runs the risk of being labeled a copycat as well as going against conventional wisdom of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” but by employing celebrated, award-winning screenwriters Andrew Davies (Mr. Adaptation himself having penned updated versions of some of literature’s most beloved works) and Last King of Scotland scribe Jeremy Brock, the filmmakers hoped to tackle that problem head on. However, in telling the story of the poor underdog Charles Ryder (Match Point’s Matthew Goode) who gets tangled up in the lives and loves of the wealthy but ill-fated Sebastian Marchmain (Ben Whishaw) and his headstrong sister Julia (Hayley Atwell), the results are mostly mixed.

Sumptuously photographed and with amazing attention to detail, including filming in Yorkshire’s awe-inspiring tourist attraction, the Castle Howard which had first doubled for the Marchmain’s home Brideshead in the prior television adaptation, Becoming Jane director Julian Jarrold’s sophisticated film is sure to rake in Oscar nominations in the fields of art and costume design as well as a probable nomination for Emma Thompson as the devoutly Catholic, domineering Marchmain matriarch.

And while no doubt one has to admire the intelligence of such a gorgeous work, especially in its daring summer release opposite mindless comedies and special effects driven superhero films which will definitely come as a much needed quiet treat for film reviewers everywhere to heap praise onto the movie, I felt like it kept viewer’s emotions at an arm’s length. Never shaking the museum feel that proves so daunting for period works-- much like another critically loved classic book turned Miramax film, The Wings of the Dove, I had a hard time becoming invested in this rather icy tale. This was especially difficult when considering that—while Charles is positioned as its hero—frequently, he’s the most unlikable character onscreen and often we’re left wondering just whom is using whom when it comes to his dealings with the Marchmains. While one never has to unconditionally love a lead character, the question then becomes whether or not you feel invested in the person’s plight and with Charles, most of the time, I didn’t.

Ultimately, I felt that that while it’s a beautiful looking work bolstered by its talented cast (Whishaw, Goode, and Atwell no doubt have excellent careers ahead of them), I sensed a barrier between myself and the production, which I can only liken to flipping through a photo album with a friend who’s just returned from a trip and can’t wait to show you hundreds of their photos. While the anecdotes and visuals are amusing enough, we realize we’re missing the full effect which was no doubt best experienced by reading Evelyn Waugh’s original novel and/or in the lengthy lauded miniseries.

This being said, I applaud the bold decision to bring the homosexual and extramarital infidelity plots to light and overlap the previously three separate tales in changes that the production notes explain were approved by the Waugh foundation. However, despite a great respect for the brilliance of Davies, I couldn’t help but imagine that this Brideshead adaptation may have been best served by brining in a more contemporary styled yet equally literary and thematically similar writer in the form of The Hours scribe Michael Cunningham. In addition to The Hours along with the brilliant A Home at the End of the World and even in his unsuccessful but imaginative interpretation of the novel Evening, Cunningham routinely explores love triangles and the struggle to come of age while reconciling one’s own desires within their immediate environment and familial obligation. Thus, being that the Brideshead filmmakers made the decision to “out” Sebastian in a greater way than in previous versions as well as try to fight against the Masterpiece Theatre trappings of most period films, by bringing in someone who isn’t usually lumped together alongside the usual suspects of the highbrow British fare, they may have breathed some much needed life into a claustrophobic and slightly overly long adaptation.

Knife in the Water

Director:
Roman Polanski


From the first moment we slide into the driver’s seat, we’re warned of the dangers of the road, not the least of which is to beware of hitchhikers. However, when the hitch is on the other end and we find ourselves stranded, forgive the pun but the other rule of thumb is to be ever so careful of the people from whom we accept a ride. This is infinitely more suspenseful when the car is replaced with a sailboat and one finds themselves in the middle of nowhere on a picturesque yet eerily quiet lake, unsure wherein the ultimate jeopardy lies whether it’s in the perils of the voyage or in neglecting to follow the rules of stranger danger ingrained in us as children.

In most films, it’s the down-on-their-luck loners we find ourselves most concerned with whether it’s Billy Zane terrorizing Nicole Kidman in Dead Calm or the kill-you-with-kindness menace lurking just below that bland smile in the brilliant French thriller With a Friend like Harry. However, upon revisiting the gorgeously remastered cinematic debut from Polish filmmaker Roman Polanski with his anxiety laden, three-character stunner Knife in the Water, we’re never sure if the danger lies within the hearts of either the mysteriously nameless, young, blonde hitchhiker (Oskar Werner look-alike, Zygmunt Malanowicz) or the bourgeois couple with whom he finds himself traveling, including the aggressively boorish and antisocial Andrzej (Leon Niemczyk) and his visibly younger wife Krystyna (Jolante Umecka).

The film opens in sheer cinematographic bliss as Krystyna drives her husband down a deserted road as the shadows from the leaf-filled trees dance peacefully upon her windshield in crisp black and white punctuated with a sultry jazz score from saxophonist Bernt Rosengren. The tempo changes with a jolt as her husband demands his chance at the wheel. Obviously while one foreshadows the subtext about emasculation and male rivalry given the film’s title, possibly our first indication that Krystyna’s domineering husband is in an irrational, virility-driven midlife crisis occurs as soon as he gets into the driver’s seat. Soon the exquisite beauty of the film’s photography switches to cool, masculine, straightforward lines with a subtle, classical, old-fashioned score that is quickly forgotten when he slams on the brakes, nearly hitting the nameless deserted Young Man (Malanowicz) precariously standing in the middle of the road.

The fact that he refused to slow down earlier, preferring to wield his lethal power over a harmless, ill-equipped stranger says a lot about our wealthy lead. Trained by the predictability of suspenseful dramas, we worry that the Young Man will soon receive his comeuppance when he’s not only offered a ride with the two but also—with no particular place to go and an even vaguer timeline—is impulsively invited along for their overnight sailing excursion so that he can ride with them again in the morning. However, he’s not as naively innocent as one would assume. From the moment his rucksack hits the backseat of their car, he and Andrzej engage in petty male rivalry and one-upmanship subconsciously more to challenge one another than to garner the attentions of the female in their midst; the Young Man agrees to come along, noting that his elder wishes to continue “the game.” Dismissing this charge with a snobbish, “You’re not in my class, kid,” Andrzej doesn’t heed his own warning, proceeding to do everything in his power to toy with the lad.

Intriguingly, Polanski — fully aware of the way that men try to prove their virility in the company of women more out of sport than genuine affection — makes a choice that proves maturity beyond his young years just fresh out of film school, to allow his amateur actress and leading lady to first appear onscreen looking like a complete schoolmarm. As he notes in an eye-opening video introduction on the Criterion disc, the notorious storyboarding director Polanski cleverly depicted Krystyna in an unflattering light, initially hiding her eyes behind pointed glasses, her greasy hair up and body completely covered. This makes it much more effective as she grows progressively more dazzling from the moment her feet touch the deck of the sailboat, when the glasses come off, hair blows free, excess clothes are removed and we witness the shapely beauty that—without her intention—propels the foolish men to an unexpectedly violent yet inevitable confrontation over the course of the next twenty-four hours.

Expertly Polanski used his modest means as a first-time filmmaker to tremendous effect at what must have been a continuity nightmare to get every reaction shot just right in working with the unpredictability of the weather along with the vast inexperience of everyone involved. Indeed, Polanski and his co-writers note on the disc that they acted out the script amongst themselves, writing it over the course of five nights. Amazingly, although it was filmed more than a year later as they had to contend with objections of the government that the film wasn’t propagandist enough and far too “western minded,” it retains this fresh, authentic, and impulsive vibe much enhanced by the radical jazz score (another musical form frowned upon in Poland at the time).

However, perhaps its greatest artistic decision came from co-writer Jerrzy Skolimowski’s ingenious effort not to let their limited budget become a hindrance, using it beneficially by paying homage to the Greek dramas he loved that all consisted of the bare minimum of characters, set in the same location over a condensed period of time such as Knife’s twenty-four hour time span.

The film, which hasn’t lost its ability to surprise and keep us riveted by the tense psychological testosterone-fueled warfare—all driven by subtle Hitchcockian male gaze and the fact that the two rivals are far more similar than they’d like to admit—is one of the director’s very best works. Now given the double-disc luxury treatment from Criterion complete with Polanski’s participation and including several of his student films, I’d even go as far as to say that Knife in the Water holds up better than any of his other 1960s offerings including the excellent yet dated Rosemary’s Baby.

Although it will never top his masterwork Chinatown, Knife in the Water, which became the first Polish nominee ever included in the Best Foreign Language Film Category of the Academy Awards (predictably losing to Fellini’s brilliant 8 & ½), introduced international audiences to the director’s most frequently visited themes and inspired two more psychological ménage a trois films in a “loose trilogy” including the director’s Cul-de-Sac and the chilling Death and the Maiden.

In addition, those who know anything about the tragic biography of the filmmaker (who would later go on to make the intensely personal Oscar winning World War II film, The Pianist) will be greatly amused by IMDb’s inclusion of the popular rumor that the sailboat in Knife may have indeed been formerly owned by one of Hitler’s close friends, the Nazi party member Hermann Goering, which makes the setting of such primal male rivalry seem all the more fitting.