There is a moment in director Greg Barker’s documentary “We Are the Giant" when we are confronted by a young girl singing a sweet song of revolution in Arabic, while a peaceful protest against the Syrian government unfolds in the streets behind her. Her smile is wide and her voice lovely until a blast erupts no more than a yard behind her, the camera swerving as smoke billows and mangled figures lurch around in confusion. Perhaps mercifully, we never see what has become of the girl; within the same reel, there is another senseless massacre, as one man hoarsely shouts amidst a barrage of bullets, flanked by dead bodies. "It was peaceful!" he cries out, unable to understand what prompted the police to open fire.
There are many instances of that scar in Barker's remarkable documentary, an intensely moving account of the Arab Spring that focuses on the stories of prominent revolutionaries across three different countries: There is Osama Ben-Sadik, a Libyan man and Virginia-resident whose son, American-born Muhannad, leaves behind his life in the United States to join in the fight against Muammar Gaddafi. In Syria we meet Motaz Murrad and Ghassan Yazzin, leaders of peace movements, both of them convinced that non-violent protests could inspire reform in the Assad regime. Then there are sisters Maryam and Zainab AlKhawaja, who join their human activist father Abdulhadi AlKhawaja to fight against the dictatorship of the Al Khalifa family in Bahrain by utilizing pacifist methods.
Barker (with the aid of co-producer Razan Ghalayani, who shot footage in countries the filmmaker was barred from entering) intercuts the testimony of these revolutionaries with ample footage of protestors taking to the streets, information relayed through in-the-moment tweets (an appropriate flourish for covering a movement so aided by social media). The grainy footage, much of it caught in secret, contains unflinching displays of chilling violence as each dictator's forces attempt to squash the uprisings: bodies reduced to mannequins of ash in Libya, a missile streaking down from the sky to land on and decimating an entire neighborhood in Syria, a wounded protestor begging riot police for help only to be blown away at point-blank range by a shotgun. Some may argue that the inclusion of such footage has gratuitous overtones, but when viewed in context it registers as essential to understanding the peril that these people face on a daily basis.
Bookending each of the three segments – Libya and Syria are the first two entries, with Bahrain taking up the greater part of the documentary's 90-minute running time – is a kaleidoscopic overview of revolutions from throughout history. Images of Tiananmen Square and the African American Civil Rights Movement glide across the screen, all punctuated by quotations from transformational figures ranging from Thomas Jefferson to Martin Luther King, Jr. Far from overreaching, "We Are the Giant" implements the framing device organically, with the filmmakers’ idea for equating the Arab Spring with all of humanity’s great revolutions clearly born from how their subjects constantly reference those from history who inspired them to act. It turns material that could have resulted in a sporadic narrative into a profound statement that the Arab Spring is a continuation of humanity's constant efforts to make a better, more just world.
Heartbreak permeates the film, with the saddest moment arriving when Motaz, who dreamed for decades of non-violent reformation in Syria, , admits that the revolution he helped begin has spiraled into catastrophic bloodshed with no end in sight. As he struggles to repress his anguish, the boom of shelling reverberates throughout his location’s walls. But the film isn't unrelentingly bleak — quite the contrary, as it bursts at the seams with extraordinary feats of perseverance and selflessness. Perhaps the most remarkable arc is that of Zainab, who transforms from a young woman timid about joining the revolution for the sake of her newborn daughter to a leader who starves herself to the brink death in protest of her father’s incarceration and who refuses to run away as military forces brutalize protestors, sitting defiantly as she is beaten and berated.
"We Are the Giant” is both vital and devastating, with raw material conveyed through elegant construction. Barker asks the hard questions, issuing the frightening possibly of necessary violence when pacifism yields no results.
Criticwire Grade: A
HOW WILL IT PLAY? Contemporary relevance coupled with a sizable emotional wallop will make this a fast acquisition for a socially conscious distributor. Word of mouth will make for a likely strong limited release with a television-VOD rollout likely the best option for broad exposure.
When the Indonesian martial arts movie "The Raid: Redemption" began making the rounds at film festivals back in 2011, it gained instant popularity for its frenetic choreography, becoming an impressive calling card for Welsh director Gareth Evans. Simultaneously bruising and taut, it was always going to be a tough act to follow — making it all the more beguiling that its sequel, "The Raid 2" (internationally titled "Berandal"), is grander and superior in every conceivable way. While its predecessor used John Carpenter's "Assault on Precinct 13" as a reference point, "The Raid 2" pulsates with countless other influences — "Yojimbo," "The Godfather," "Infernal Affairs" – and contains a finale that not so much mirrors but perfects Bruce Lee's unfinished masterpiece "Game of Death." This is a feat that raises the bar for modern action filmmaking, and while claims of its stature as greatest action film of all time might sound premature, they aren't unwarranted.
"The Raid 2" picks up hours after the first installment. Our hero Rama (Iko Uwais), his wounds sustained from an army of thugs still fresh, is brought before a special squad keen on cleansing the city of the reigning mafia as well as the police force that aids and abets them. It turns out that the crime lord Rama helped take down in "The Raid: Redemption" was but one midlevel spider amongst a massive web of criminality. In exchange for his family’s protection from these dark forces, Rama is asked to go undercover into the belly of the beast. Exhausted and disillusioned by his ordeal, he initially refuses, but accepts the task when he considers the prospects of personal vengeance. His mission calls for him to land in prison for a few months in order to befriend the incarcerated dark prince of the mob, Ucok. Almost immediately, Rama realizes that this quest will become much more complicated than that.
Undoubtedly the most astonishing aspect of "The Raid 2" are its action set pieces, which create the impression that "The Raid: Redemption" was just a warm up. Each one is preceded by a meticulously observed build up: We watch as some of the greatest martial artists in the world snap, gouge, and pummel every component of each other's anatomy with whatever object is at hand. The violence is jaw-dropping, with every evisceration leaving a traumatic reverberation in its wake, only to be outdone by the next gruesome strike. Evans (who not only directed but edited the film as well) catapults himself to the forefront of action directors, systematically tackling and outdoing just about every benchmark for combat in the pantheon. A mud-soaked brawl on a prison yard early in the film makes the opening turf battle of "Gangs of New York" look cute in comparison. A car chase sequence is so dizzyingly inventive it would send Jason Bourne spinning off of the pavement. Rama's kitchen-set showdown with Bejo’s most lethal henchman ranks among the greatest one-on-one fight sequences in recent memory.Evans populates this epic with a rogues' gallery of larger than life villains, each of them distinctive and fittingly despicable. Controlling the city are two crime lords: The local syndicate lead by the all-powerful Bangun, and the refined Goto, who exerts an equally iron fist from Japan. Ucok (Arifin Putra, sporting classic movie star looks), Bangun’s son and the man with whom Rama must ingratiate himself, is a petulant king-in-waiting all too eager to inherent his father’s crown, his sense of entitlement only matched by his ruthlessness. On the periphery is the ambitious upstart Bejo, whose arsenal includes a trio of assassins so outlandish they could comfortably reside on the pages of the wackiest of mangas. In a welcome piece of stunt casting, Yayan Ruhian (who played Mad Dog in the first installment) returns, reincarnated as another unstoppable berserker named Prakoso.
This is not to suggest that the film’s pleasures exist only when the fists swing. Evans constructs an elegant narrative around the carnage, extrapolating a labyrinthine plot from the first film's spare scenario and handling the intrigue with a crystalline clarity. Iko Uwais, with his haunted eyes and no-bullshit dignity, once again portrays Rama as a decent man who slowly loses himself to the barbaric world he has become submerged in.
Still, Evans risks losing track of Rama's personal stakes in this expansive tale of ambition and betrayal, only to find him roaring back to the forefront in the film's third act. Arifin Putra also does great work as Ucok, his performance suggesting a deep-seated insecurity that comes close to eliciting sympathy for an otherwise monstrous character. However, the true stars of the film are Evans, his two cinematographers and three composers — the virtuosic camerawork and nerve-stabbing score make for a rapturous viewing experience. Indeed, if "The Raid: Redemption" was a thrashing drum solo, its sequel is the opulent symphony where every instrument is played with fevered inspiration.
Criticwire Grade: A
HOW WILL IT PLAY? Sony Pictures Classics releases the film in March, when inevitable word of mouth is likely to yield a much larger haul than the first installment. The two-and-a-half hour running time and excessive violence may provide a deterrent for some audiences, but reviews and interest carried over from the first film guarantee anticipation will remain strong.
David Wain's goofy, playful filmmaking approach was first successful with "Hot American Summer," but despite solid work on television ("Childrens Hospital"), he hasn’t made a film that hits that sweet spot of mirthful humor since "Role Models." Fortunately, he more or less returns to form with "They Came Together," a takedown of romantic comedy traditions of chaotic, irreverent proportions. Reuniting with "Wet Hot American Summer" alums Amy Poehler and Paul Rudd along with co-writer Michael Showalter, Wain has shot a comedy that hits the ceiling of silliness and bursts through the plaster for a view of the upper floor. Every romantic comedy trope is roasted here, mocked and emulated with a wink; the only thing they’re missing to complete this maniacal medley is Kate Hudson.
Poehler and Rudd star as Molly and Joel, a seemingly blissful couple regaling an equally blissful married couple (Bill Hader and Ellie Kemper) with the story of how the first met. As they compare their courtship to a romantic comedy, we watch an homage to the genre's various conventions and stereotypes unfold: Molly is a clumsy, single candy shop owner; Joel has a nice guy who works as an executive at the big candy corporation that is threatening Molly’s business. After being dumped by his icy girlfriend (Cobie Smulders), he's invited to his co-worker’s (Jason Mantzoukas) Halloween party to be set up. On the way there, he bumps into Molly. The two are immediately hostile to each other, arguing all the way to their respective parties, which turn out to be the same one. (“Aw," Molly’s friend says, echoing the clichéd audience reaction. "They came together.")
Cheesy but effective, Wain's self-aware script manages to cram in virtually every genetic plot development from Matthew McConaughey's romcom period while spoofing it all the way. The jokes come fast and never stop, with zany riffs and explosions of bad taste ratcheting up a high laugh quotient — sex and toilet humor abounds. Many of the gags rely on timing to the extent that they defy written description, but needless to say, the laughs hide in every corner of the wisely slim 83 minutes, as the cast clearly has fun with the material.
And what a cast it is: Wain has assembled a sprawling ensemble that includes Ed Helms, Michael Ian Black, Melanie Lynskey, Ken Marino and Christopher Meloni (whose mere appearance is a welcome delight), not to mention a handful of cameos as random as they are hilarious. The only weak link is Max Greenfield, popping up as Rudd’s underachieving brother and never quite gelling with the movie’s irreverent humor despite being a consummate funnyman (most recently on "New Girl"). No one would think to pair Poehler and Rudd together as star-crossed lovers, and for good reason: the two have zero romantic chemistry. But that's part of the point.
Forgoing restraint at every moment, "They Came Together" indulges in every goofy impulse of its players, always in search of the next punchline. The sloppiness pays off, with the humor hitting its marks more often than not. Granted, Wain and his cohorts are gunning for easy targets here, only occasionally digging deep in their deconstruction of a genre that's just begging for it. However, in terms of its pure laughter quotient, "They Came Together" constantly delivers.
Criticwire Grade: B
HOW WILL IT PLAY? Lionsgate is releasing the film in June, when the combination of a well-liked cast and word of mouth, as well as Poehler and Rudd’s appeal, could help it maintain solid returns as counter-programming to the larger summer releases.
"The Battered Bastards of Baseball," a documentary by siblings Chapman and Maclain Way, manages to be many things at once: an affectionate ode to their grandfather, a distinctive snapshot of a noble sports experiment and a bittersweet glimpse at the possibilities of the many ways in which the game of baseball can be experienced.
The filmmakers tell the story of their grandfather, Bing Russell, the Hollywood character actor who would go on to become the owner of the Portland Mavericks — the only independent team in the league during its existence. Russell's venture into baseball was met with raised eyebrows, but through the testimony of friends and family (including his son, Kurt Russell), he was born for it. Raised under the mentorship of baseball legends such as Lefty Gomez and Joe DiMaggio, he was obsessed with both the game and acting. When an injury early in his career as a player curtailed his career, Russell went with the natural alternative of pursuing a Hollywood career.
While he would never become exceptionally famous, Russell would enjoy a healthy career in westerns, landing a role in "The Magnificent Seven" and another as a recurring sheriff on Bonanza (he would say that he was "killed 600 times" playing the latter role). During this time he would make mind-bogglingly detailed training videos using very young Kurt as his demonstrator. Once "Bonanza" wrapped, Bing was bored, hungry for an opportunity to make something of his own. That's when the city of Portland, Oregon lost its MLB team, The Beavers, due to a lack of enthusiasm so dire the stands had been filled by a mere dozen people during games.
Seeing an opportunity to establish a new kind of team, Russell moved to town and launched The Mavericks, assembling a ragtag team that was akin to an island of lost toys. Installing Frank Peters, a kooky former ballplayer who had come to terms with not becoming "the next Babe Ruth," as the manager of the team, Russell and his new partner would select players who had been rejected by the national league. Many of them were already in their late 30s, or had gained weight, or or simply never showed any exceptional abilities — and all were brought under the wings of Russell, who was renowned for his "talent to read a ballplayer."
The documentary begins with a few chuckles but becomes riotously funny as we're regaled with the offbeat antics of the team. For Russell and his team, baseball was about having fun, and even those who can't sit through an inning of baseball would be hard-pressed to not smile at the way that these players would perform as a spectacle for their audience. When watching some of the players' goofy traditions — lighting a broom and holding it aloft like a tiki torch for every run, letting the team dog scamper across the field — it's hard not to wonder why baseball can't have the same unpredictable energy today.
But The Mavericks weren't just a carnival for Portland; they were in it to win. It's thrilling to watch footage of this unlikely team trouncing better-paid and better-trained opponents by stealing bases and running like the wind with every crack of the bat. Eventually becoming a hugely formidable presence and a threat to the national leagues, it was inevitable that higher powers conspired to destroy this unique, independent entity.
Despite the movie's entertainment value, the directors' inexperience is felt throughout: Interviewees seem washed out by the use of white backgrounds, the film only represents one side of the story, and the question of whether The Mavericks' combustible behavior would have ever been sustainable is completely sidestepped. However, there remains a great deal of talent and promise on display here, from the slick editing to the thumping, muscular score. The brothers are also aided by the fact that their grandfather was such a charismatic and off-kilter individual, the kind of guy who fired off memorably amusing sayings like "That's the way the pickle squirts." The film is constantly surprising (who knew that "In the Bedroom" director Todd Field was once a bat boy?) and always contains a warm affection for this rogues gallery of unlikely heroes in the ballpark. For that reason alone, "The Battered Bastards of Baseball" is as breezy and fun as documentaries get.
Criticwire Grade: B+
HOW WILL IT PLAY? The subject matter and 73 minute running time suggests that the movie's sports-savvy audience will most likely seek it out on television, where it's likely to land a healthy deal. Theatrical prospects are more limited.
