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Three of Hearts: A Postmodern Family
How does a non-traditional family explain itself to society?
Unapologetically. In Three of Hearts: A Postmodern Family,
director Susan Kaplan captures eight years of the "trinogamous" relationship
between Sam Cagnina, Steven Margolin, and Samantha Singh.
Early on, even the most open-minded viewer can't help but
think, "This will never work," and it doesn't disappoint.
Through interviews and home movies, we learn that Sam and
Steven were together for seven years before bringing in Samantha.
Kaplan picks up when the trio decides to have a baby. A slightly
schizophrenic endeavor, the first half of the film drills
in how wonderful it is that something so unusual can be so
functional. But in eight years, Kaplan rarely goes beyond
surface: Each of them is clearly repressing their individuality
until they undergo (separate) therapy sessions; Their sex
life is glossed over as being just dandy, with little explanation
of how Samantha fit into the originally gay couple, and how
things shift when the men question their bisexuality. Most
importantly, there are few outside opinions of this situation,
save for the close family members who have come to accept
the situation. So when the relationship devolves into a bitter
mess with two children stuck in the middle, it's hard to
find sympathy for folks who now admit to being in denial
for so many years. Ultimately, Kaplan reserves judgment and
is simply shining the spotlight on an interesting set of
circumstances, but, like a horror film, you just want to
yell to the characters onscreen, "Run away!"--
Sarika Chawla
Breakfast on Pluto
Actor Cillian Murphy (pronounced Kill-ian) may be stirring
up quite a buzz for his Quentin Crisp-meets-Marilyn Monroe
gender-bending performance, but director Neil Jordan's (The
Crying Game) politically-tinged fairy tale is one chilly,
soupy muddle of tones, subjects and styles.
As a baby, Patrick "Kitten" Braden (Murphy) is
abandoned on the doorstep of a Presbyterian parish. During
childhood, he finds joy in wearing female garments, makeup,
and basically femming-out, much to the chagrin of pub-owning
foster parent Ma Braden (Ruth McCabe). Soon, Kitten learns
he was adopted and becomes obsessed with finding his birth
mother -- allegedly, a stunning beauty who fled to big city
London. Kindly Father Bernard (Liam Neeson) may know something
of her whereabouts, but he flees every time Kitten brings
the subject up. Following suit, Kitten high-tails it out
of town, hooking up with a glam-punk-rockabilly band and
falling in love with its frontsman, Billy Rock (Gavin Friday).
Life looks up until Billy's scary IRA ties lead to a breakup.
Kitten's adventures continue, from a brief stint as a costumed
theme park character to an assistant gig with a magician
(Stephen Rea) to surviving -- and being blamed for -- an
IRA bombing. Will Kitten ever find his mother?
Jordan adapted Breakfast on Pluto from Patrick McCabe's
1992 novel of the same name. It surely read better as a paperback.
Kitten's wacko, quirky Candide-esque journey (presented in
chapters) boasts some highlights, but it's mostly just an
overlong series of weirdness and fantasy devoid of urgency.
When an event of gravity does occur, like Kitten's abduction
by an apparent serial killer or the admittedly startling
IRA bombing, we're so disconnected emotionally that it fails
to resonate.
It's a shame that Murphy was dropped into such a jumble
(his brief Batman Begins performance overshadows and will
outlive Pluto's), since he seems like he was game for anything.
Yet sadly, despite working as a peep show "girl" and
taking a lover or two, Kitten is an ultimately sexless, passive
creation, much like what Quentin Crisp portended to be --
although Crisp did so with much wittier, pithier banter.
As if a metaphor, the film is equally devoid of lustiness,
of passion, and of emotional investment. Despite marketing
that suggests you're in for another Velvet Goldmine glam-rock
era fantasia, this breakfast is ultimately cold.--
Lawrence Ferber
Before The Fall
A gorgeous and enthralling film, Before the Fall tells
the story of two young German boys indoctrinated into the
Hitler's personal training school, the National-Political
Institutes of Learning, or Napolas for short. Run like a
military camp, with no room for slackers, Napolas' graduates
are intended to become governors in Hitler's conquered territories.
Before the Fall follows Friedrich Weimer (Max Riemelt), a
talented young working-class boxer, and Albrecht (Tom Schilling),
whose father has pulled strings to secure him a place at
the coveted school. Their experience at the school is a chilling
walk down the path of fascism and groupthink.
The seductiveness of being part of the whole is brilliantly
shown is scenes of the boys smiling with pride as their ethnic
features are carefully measured for Aryan purity. Sure, we
all know that the Nazis were bad guys, but this is one of
the first German films to actually deal with the subject.
Director Dennis Gansel is one of the first in a new generation
of Germans who does not blink at his country's history and
as the film progresses it becomes increasingly more difficult
to watch. As Friedrich and Albrecht become closer, inevitably
they begin to rebel against the system they are in. What
follows is fairly predictable, but engaging nonetheless.
If you can stomach the formulaic ending, you will be taken
on a journey most Nazi films are afraid to take. Rather than
simply showing the Nazi's as murderous monsters, Before the
Fall shows the insidious way good and decent people can be
convinced to become monstrous. Some critics have argued in
the past that films that show the Nazi movement in a human
light are committing an act against the victims, that Nazis
don't deserve our understanding, just our hate.
This film is a great argument against that belief. The
adage that we should never forget extends to how the Nazi's
came to power as well. The Third Reich's infamy is not simply
that it murdered millions of innocent Jews, gays, gypsies,
Catholics and intellectuals, but that it was able to convince
decent, normal people to commit these horrifying acts. Before
the Fall asks its audience to examine their own capacity
for complacency. We're better off for it. --
Japhy Grant
Gay Sex in the '70s
 Here's an interesting moral dilemma: How do you celebrate
an era's sexual experimentation and hedonism when that behavior
eventually brought about the deaths of countless gay men
and women? Joseph F. Lovett's seductive Gay Sex in the '70s
sidesteps this issue by narrowing its focus to the time after
Stonewall, but before the AIDS epidemic.
The film is a love letter to the era, and will bring back
memories for those who lived through the era as much as it
appears like a fantastic wonderland for those born in an
age of latex and safer sex. Here are bathhouses and discos,
active political movements, and gender awareness. Lovett's
film is like one long reprise of "Life is a Cabaret";
it wants you to remember a time when sexual freedom and community
defined the gay community, but it forgets that there's a
very good reason why that world didn't last.
The big bad bug does get its fair share of exposure in
this film, but is presented too often as killjoy rather than
inevitable outcome. Gay Sex would have us believe that the
epidemic was just an uninvited guest to a really great party,
rather than the direct result of the era's libertine attitudes.
Sure, there's a huge desire to say, "What the hell,
those mustachioed guys in knee-high socks are having fun,
dammit", but it's ignorant to forget that their fun
led to our current age.
Lovett seems to think that the gay community was better
off then, but watching the film, there seem to be more parallels
to today then anyone cares to admit: bath houses have been
replaced with chat rooms, discos fueled by Quaaludes have
become clubs filled with tweakers. Oh, sure it looks like
a lot of fun, but as any survivor of the '80s will tell you:
The past is future. -- Japhy Grant
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