Kapo

Gillo Pontecorvo's take on the Holocaust is, not surprisingly, grim, dark and depressing. Still not in the same league as The Battle of Algiers (but what is?), it's a fascinating study of guilt, collaboration and human atrocity.

Edith (Susan Strasburg) is a Jewish girl in Nazi-occupied France who comes home to find her family being arrested, and she is forced to join them. Arriving at a death camp, she watches her parents gassed, and with the help of a doctor assumes the identity of Nicole, a recently-deceased, now-Jewish criminal. Edith goes to a labor camp and gradually adapts to its cruelties: she becomes a plaything of camp guards, and works her way up to Kapo (camp guard). However, the death of her friend Terese (Emmanuelle Riva) and the arrival of Russian POWs - including Sascha (Laurent Terzieff), whom she falls in love with - convinces Edith to help her fellow inmates escape.

Kapo is more subtle than most Holocaust films, which granted isn't saying a lot. Explicit atrocities are mostly hinted at, but the film retains a horrible power throughout, with Pontecorvo's sparse but powerful direction driving the story. Until the bloody conclusion, most atrocities are individual: the hanging of a woman for attempted sabotage, and Terese's being forced to translate the commandant's speech, is arguably the high-point of the film. The only SS man we get to know is Karl (Gianni Garko), a likeable if blindly patriotic young man who romances Edith; guilt for the Holocaust is made starkly collective, rather than the whims of a psychotic camp leader.

Another unique aspect of Kapo is its morally ambiguous portrayal of the inmates. Unlike Schindler's List (certainly a fine film in its own way), Edith and her camp mates are not virtuous victims but degraded people. They are reduced to an animal state, squabbling constantly, gaining petty revenges against each other, becoming comfort women for promises of food and shelter, and finally murdering the SS's beloved cat. Terese becomes an interpreter for its "special privileges" but ultimately can't stand the guilt and shame involved; Edith's metamorphosis into a cold-blooded collaborator is chillingly believable, staunched only by dramatic events.

The movie effectively explores why a Jewish girl would agree to oppress her own people: In an environment where death is so casual and certain, collaboration is the only option. In effect, the victims are made part of the collective guilt, making an already-murky situation indecipherable: when an SS guard is more likeable than most of the inmates, cliches of bad Nazis and good Jews don't apply. Even something as straightforward as the Holocaust isn't morally black-and-white, Pontecorvo shows.

The movie's powerful, inventive first half dips back towards convention in the second half, as Edith gropes her way back towards virtue. The movie avoids good-and-evil classifications in the early sections, but certainly becomes more clear-cut later. Personally, I would have found it more powerful (and certainly more original) if Edith had remained on her path to evil. That said, one can't really deny the power of the ending, the wonderfully-staged prison break and Edith's final words.

Susan Strasburg gives a marvellous performance. Early on she's given a close haircut reminiscent of Renee Falconetti in The Passion of Joan of Arc, but Edith is no martyr, merely a girl trying desperately to stay alive, and her shift from innocent victim to complicit camp guard is chillingly credible. The movie does not make Nicole overly sympathetic, even in the early scenes; it's her change of heart that renders her such, and Pontecorvo and Strasburg render this beautifully.

Other performances are equally fine. Gianni Garko (later a major Spaghetti Western star) does a fine job at making Karl a decent guy, without veering into "good German" cliches. Emmanuelle Riva is excellent as Terese, whose collaboration becomes personally unbearable.

Kapo is one of the best fictional films made on the Holocaust. Even if it resorts to convention towards the end, it's still far more complex and ambiguous than most other films on the topic, and remains a starkly powerful work.

Ogro

Ogro (1979) is the third Gillo Pontecorvo film I've seen, after the brilliant Battle of Algiers and the disappointing Burn! Pontecorvo again deals with the politics and harsh realities of terrorism and revolution, but in a more subdued manner than above-named films. Unfortunately, Ogro is also a bit too obvious and slow compared to his previous works, and suffers as a result.

In 1973, Spain is still under the thumb of Generalissmo Francisco Franco, the Fascist dictator who has ruled the country since 1939. Still, most knowledgable Spaniards know he hasn't long to live, and his equally repressive right-hand man Carrero Blanco (Agapito Romo) is in line to take over. A cell of the ETA, a Basque terrorist organization, has decided to kidnap Blanco and hold him for ransom. The hot-headed revolutionary Txabi (Eusebio Poncela) strongly urges assassination; the more cool-headed Izarra (Gian Maria Volonte) argues that Blanco is worth more dead than alive. When their leader Yoseba (Feodor Atkine) is gunned down by Spanish police, and when Blanco is promoted to Prime Minister, kidnapping is no longer feasible; they must assassinate him.

Ogro does a fine job of examining the role and importance of terrorism in a revolutionary movement. Spain was a country that, despite its repressive government, was fairly prosperous under Franco's rule; thus, there was little popular call for revolution, and it took the actions of extremists like the ETA, working for their own cause (independence for the Basque minority) to affect social change. Certainly the ETA cannot claim to be acting for the majority of Spaniards, and yet their actions positively benefit the country as a whole. The assassination of Blanco arguably opened the door for Spain's post-Franco democratization, so it can certainly be seen as justified, even heroic. But with one goal - the removal of Franco's chief henchman - achieved through terrorism, should it be used for another - Basque independence?

Pontecorvo shows a degree of thoughtful nuance in dealing with this issue. Terrorism may be the only way to fight against a Fascist dictatorship, but is it the right way to act in a democratic society? In this regard, Pontecorvo seems to have mellowed from the Marxism of his earlier films; although he acknowledges the shortcomings of violence in those movies, he ultimately embraces the violence as a necessary evil. Here, he questions whether it is always necessary - that in a pluralistic society, patience and peaceful protest are more likely to succeed. To be fair, though, French Algeria and Quemada were not regimes where peaceful protest was likely to bear fruit.

Unfortunately, Pontecorvo's film lacks the visceral power of Algiers, for a number of reasons. The film's pace often flags during the preparation scenes, which is interesting at times, but occasionally tedious. The Txabi-Izarra conflict is underdeveloped and pretty rote, and the supporting cast are virtually non-existent as characters. Perhaps more of a problem are the overly-obvious political sentiments. The lame flashback device, with Txabi continuing his violence ways while Izarra has moved on to peaceful protest, is a waste; its message about peaceful versus violent methods is obviously stated, and seems tacked on and underdeveloped. Indeed, the film's message is generally stated less elegantly than in Algiers, even though the message - that terrorism is only useful up to a point - is certainly one worth considering.

Pontecorvo's direction is on a larger scale than Algiers, although it retains the basic cinema verite style. The movie's shots of the meticulous terrorist preparations put one in mind of Day of the Jackal - and the climax is certainly a highly suspenseful sequence. Ennio Morricone contributes a fairly low-key and unremarkable music score. Gian Maria Volonte, Eusebio Poncela, Feodor Atkine, Jose Sarcristan and Saverio Marconi all give strong performances as the ETA men.

If Ogro lacks the immediacy of Algiers, it's still far superior to the muddled Burn!, and worth a look for anyone who enjoyed Pontecorvo's other works.

Burn!

As a follow-up to yesterday's review of The Battle of Algiers, here is my IMDB comment on Gillo Pontecorvo's later film Burn! (referred to by it's Italian title Queimada).

Sir William Walker (Marlon Brando sporting a ridiculous blond wig) is a British agent sent to the sugar-rich Portuguese island of Queimada in the mid-19th Century. Walker's mission is to incite the island's slave population to revolt against their Portuguese masters, in order to open the island for British colonization. Walker manipulates humble porter Jose Dolores (Evaristo Marquez) into helping him rob a bank; this kick-starts a series of events in which Dolores becomes the head of an island-wide slave revolt. However, Walker has also manipulated the white landowners into declaring independence, and Dolores and his black colleagues are side-lined by the new government, which immediately opens trade relations with British sugar companies. Ten years later, Walker returns, this time accompanied by British troops, to find that Dolores has incited another revolt - and Walker is forced to put down the very revolution he started.

Queimada! is Gillo Pontecorvo's big-budget, ambitious follow-up to The Battle of Algiers. The movie seethes with the anti-colonialism and barely-restrained anger of Pontecorvo's masterpiece, but is seriously flawed in a number of important areas, which balance out the film's fascinating story and political themes.

Pontecorvo's film certainly conveys its message very well. Walker's actions to methodically secure the island are simply fascinating. He manipulates every group on-hand, focused solely on his expedient political goals. As in today's foreign policy, actions are undertaken for short-term victories, even if they backfire in the long term. Walker incites a black slave rebellion, then keeps it under control by convincing a group of white landowners to seize the capital city - an easy victory which gives Queimada a "presentable" government. Nevermind the part Dolores and his blacks played in the revolt; although no longer "slaves", their "liberation" results in their being even worse-off than before - even though the new government improves infrastructure and builds up the country - leading to a new revolt by the same rebels. Finally, when the government proves ineffective, they are disposed of by the very people who propped them up - and British soldiers intervene directly in the conflict, escalating the brutality. Though successful, these policies are also counterproductive - by burning the sugar cane forests to root out rebel forces, the British destroy the very reason they came to the island - to monopolize on its sugar. Thus, this imperialist war becomes nothing more than an exercise in pride and brutality.

All of this rings true. It is certainly pertinent to today's situations in Iraq and Afghanistan (if not as much as it was to the contemporary Vietnam conflict), showing that the more things change, the more they stay the same. On this level, the film is mostly successful.

However, the film's primary failure is in its direction. Pontecorvo's static, unemotional cinema verite style worked well with Battle of Algiers; the use of non-actors in key roles enhanced the film's realism. Pontecorvo employs the same techniques here (although the supporting cast is fleshed out with a handful of British and Italian character actors), and yet mostly fails. This is because Algiers was a relatively modest docudrama set within one city; Queimada is (or tries to be) a large-scale historical epic, and the static visual style and direction cause many of the film's major set-pieces to falter. Most of the film's action, both political and military, happen off-screen; usually, we only learn about the effects afterward. What we do see are brief snippets, which vary in effectiveness. The movie has its share of visually stunning sequences - the march of the slave army, the execution scenes, and Walker watching the massacre of rebels through an eyeglass - but on the whole, the effect is underwhelming.

The movie also lacks strong central characters. Algiers had Jean Martin's coolly professional Colonel Matthieu and Brahim Haigag's Ali La Pointe, who goes from street punk to principled revolutionary. The equivalent characters in Queimada, Walker and Dolores, are cartoonish by comparison. Although his actions are fascinating, Walker himself is not a well-drawn character; he effectively stands for the ideas he represents, but nothing more. Brando's performance is surprisingly subdued, but his wig, accent and the screenplay undermine his best efforts. Evaristo Marquez's Dolores is similar; he is more of an idea than a character, and unlike in Algiers, the casting of a non-actor does not work. In this case, it simply undermines the character. Neither character has much depth or development through the picture, and thus neither is really interesting. The supporting cast is made up of even more cartoonish stereotypes, and hardly worth a mention; only Renato Salvatori as the hapless President of Queimada makes any impression.

For all its ambition, Queimada! is something of a disappointment. Although it makes its points broadly and well, as a movie it doesn't quite work. It is ultimately one of those films that is more interesting than entertaining.

Rating: 6/10 - Use your own discretion

The Battle of Algiers

"Should we remain in Algeria? If you answer "yes," then you must accept all the necessary consequences." - Colonel Mathieu

Algeria, 1954. After over a country of French colonial rule, the people of Algeria are preparing to rise in revolt. The terrorist group FLN begins a rebellion with a rapidly escalating series of terrorist attacks and assassinations. The local authorities are unable to stop this faceless, increasingly ruthless enemy, and so an elite division of French paratroopers led by the coolly professional Colonel Mathieu (Jean Martin) arrives to deal with the situation. The French engage in a brutal but effective crackdown which includes mass arrests, assassination, and use of torture, which ultimately kills the FLN off. However, the people of Algeria have been inflamed, and Independence soon becomes inevitable.

The Battle of Algiers is simply a brilliant movie. Gillo Pontecorvo has created one of the most stark, brutal, realistic depictions of guerrilla warfare - a film which has been viewed and used as a guide by various terrorist groups since its initial release. In abstracts rather than particulars, it is extraordinarily pertinent to the War on Terror that the US finds itself faced off against today, as America finds itself being forced to concede the moral high-ground to win a potentially unwinnable conflict.

Pontecorvo's film spares no one. Every side, every group of people is shown as being nasty in its own way. While Pontecorvo's film is on the side of the FLN, it does not shy away from showing their actions, such as placing bombs inside diners and discos, killing and maiming teenagers and even children. Likewise, the French army's techniques of assassination and torture are shown as well. It's clear that from a purely moral point-of-view, neither side has the high-ground.

In regards to the film's politics, I would hasten to say that it's a bit unfair to compare the situation in Iraq today with the film's setting, except in an abstract way. For while we have only recently conquered Iraq and have no intention of colonizing it, France had occupied Algeria for over a century and indeed considered it to be not just a colony, but part of France itself. That being said, in regards to the tactics of both the terrorists and the French counter-insurgents, and the never-ending cycle of vicious violence - well, it's obvious why the Pentagon screened this film as a guide on how to combat terrorism.

The film's bleak, realistic visual sense gives the impression of a documentary; we feel we are really living history, not just watching a film. The violence is not particularly graphic, understandable considering the time in which it was made, but we do see at least the aftermath of mass shootings and terrorist bombings - maimed and bloody bodies and destroyed homes have their own power, even if the actual act was sublimated. There are some genuinely disturbing sequences, as when a group of Algerian children beat a drunken man to death, the montage of torture, and of course the famous scene where three Algerian women disguise themselves as Frenchwomen to carry out a series of bombings. Ennio Morricone provides a desperate, driving score which allows the message to hit home.

On one last note: the cast is made up almost entirely of non-professional actors, with one notable exception. It is to the immense credit of Pontecorvo and screenwriter Franco Solinas that they made the film's antagonist, Colonel Mathieu, not a typical fascist-type monster, but an immensely sympathetic, refined man who would rather not be doing these nasty things, but recognizes he has to. His scenes where he addresses the press about the tactics of the paratroops (another scene which could be ripped from the headlines today), and his one-to-one talks with captured terrorist leaders, show that he is a genuinely decent man making the best of a bad situation. Jean Martin, a celebrated stage actor whose film appearances are generally less-than-memorable (My Name is Nobody and Day of the Jackal), turns in a truly astounding performance. The cast of amateur actors is equally impressive, particularly Ali la Pointe, the fiery rebel leader who is a man of action more than ideas, perfectly played by Brahim Haigag.

It is impossible to understate the importance of The Battle of Algiers. As a primer for both terrorists and counter-terrorists, it continues to be one of the most politically influential movies ever made. Forty years later, with the US engaged in a vicious struggle against terrorism, the topics covered in the film are as pertinent as ever.

Rating: 10/10 - Must See