Antichrist (2009)

I always brace myself for a new Lars von Trier movie. It won't be easy, I know, but the challenge of experiencing his very peculiar genius is usually more than worthwhile. I can safely say that von Trier has changed the way I watch movies. Medea (1991) is an astonishing re-creation of the intense mythic story, and Breaking the Waves (1996) is still unlike anything else I've seen. There are others, to be sure.

By the same token, von Trier can become a tiresome browbeater. Dogville (2003), which was a kind of Our Town gone bad, flogged its point so incessantly it became irritating, ultimately spoiling the impression it made on me. Given the cast and interesting setting (theatrically minimal, to put it mildly), that was all the more of a disappointment.

I read plenty about his newest one, Antichrist, before checking it out. It apparently caused some consternation at Cannes, which, I assume, is rather hard to pull off these days. The reviews were divided, with critics seemingly bunching up on the "wow" end and the "rubbish" end, with very few in the middle. Interesting.

Now that I've seen it, I can see why. There is no way to have a "middling" reaction to Antichrist; I can honestly say that I like it and hate it, both. There are moments of artistic brilliance; there are also explicit scenes that add nothing to the film but a sense of mild shock, just enough to break the spell the film has cast—at least from where I sit.

The film's setup is simple enough: On a stormy night a couple is making love in their expansive apartment. (Warning: one quick scene is explicit, in fact.) While that is going on, the camera jumps to the bedroom of their young son, who—lured by something never seen by us—finds a way to climb up to the window, open it, step onto the sill, then slip and fall to his death.

The mother, simply referred to as She (Charlotte Gainsbourg), is beyond grief-stricken. Her husband (Willem Dafoe as, yep, He), a psychologist, doesn't approve of the heavy drug regimen her psychiatrist has her on. Instead, she should be led through her grief therapeutically, and he will help her with that; it's his job and calling, after all. They head for a beloved cabin in the woods, which they call Eden. (If you see metaphors building steadily here, oh yeah. They run ragged, in fact.) What begins as intensive therapy devolves into mutual barbarity, as He learns that her prior trips to Eden to work on her thesis (the role of the occult in the harsh treatment of women in the West in centuries past) resulted in no mere academic exercise.

It all spins out of control with several scenes of shocky-horrific cruelty, all explicitly documented on film. In a film that has such artistic reach, these scenes are worse than jarring.

Both Gainsbourg and Dafoe are astonishing in this film, in part because of the demands von Trier makes upon them—especially Gainsbourg. There are several scenes that are absolutely barbaric, clearly intended to shock; they come across as silly, laughable excesses. The shocks shatter the frightening seduction that von Trier builds through the subtle shifts in wind, falling acorns, forest animals seen in the midst of nature's cruel traumas (a doe still half-carrying her stillborn fawn, its body not fully expelled; a crow eating her dead young). It obliterated my desire to reflect upon the images and metaphors that give the film real gravity; if that was von Trier's goal, it worked with me.

So who should see this? Only the most adventurous movie lovers who can tolerate explicit sex and sexual violence. All others, avoid. Antichrist has merit as a work of art, but even for a jaded viewer such as I, the efforts to shock cheapen the serious exploration of good and evil that von Trier attempted here. That's a real shame, because the film works so well as both very subtle horror and serious drama without the nitwit excesses.

I couldn't help but be reminded of a better film, if not an exact comparison: Begotten, E. Elias Merhige's creation myth on film that has distressing scenes all its own. There they have their place, however; shocks come, but the whole look of the film shakes my viewing.

In what may be one of his famous ruses, von Trier says he was working through diagnosed clinical depression with this film, one he had been planning to make for years. I can't believe that. Depression makes work very difficult, something I know from extensive experience with the condition (diagnosed long ago in me); creating a film of this magnitude, with the performance von Trier had to coax from his actors, strains credulity. I'm not calling the man a liar; I'm saying that, given his utter lack of sincerity in statements he's made in the past, it's hard to believe that story.

An interesting experience, to be sure, Antichrist is ultimately a disappointment.

Red Cliff (2009)

Epics just don't get made with any kind of regularity these days. The reasons are pretty obvious: enormous expense, logistical difficulties, lengthy productions, et al. That's not to say that big-budget movies have gone out of fashion; hardly. It's just that those who can command such budgets within the Hollywood machine don't make movies like that with any frequency.

His stay in Hollywood may have been disappointing for fans of his fabulous Hong Kong action films of the 1980s, but John Woo is such a director in the Asian and international markets. He has carte blanche. More to the point, he has the vision and the talent to make it work. So news of his sprawling epic, Red Cliff, teased fans for months before the film found its way stateside. I'm delighted to say it was worth the wait.

Based on a 3rd century battle between rival warlords during China's period of fractured dynasties (commonly referred to as the period of the Three Kingdoms), Red Cliff works its magic in big flourishes and simple gestures in an unabashedly romantic vision of ancient conflict. Woo worked with the biggest budget for an Asian film ever, and in the Asian market, the film more than returned on its investment, taking in US$124 million in revenue (toppling Titanic from the top of the list). It was also released in Asia as a four-hour film in two parts. What we get is an edited-down 2 1/2-hour movie, focused more on the narrative history elements and combat action than on the subtext. Even so, it works well.

The story is full of twists, but the basics are pretty straightforward: an ambitious warlord, Cao Cao (Fengyi Zhang), manipulates the weak Han emperor of the northern kingdom into declaring a pre-emptive war on the kingdoms of the south, which have suffered loss after loss to the periodic aggressions of northern kingdom soldiers. As Cao Cao prepares to attack the Liu Bei's territory, Liu Bei (Yong You) frantically sends his diplomat, Zhuge Liang (Takeshi Kaneshiro), to propose a quick alliance with Sun Quan (Chen Chang) to fight against Cao Cao's onslaught. Sun and Zhuge forge a friendship through a shared love of music and art, and Zhuge's gentle persuasion wins out over the concerns of some of Sun's advisors. Meanwhile, Cao Cao has built a massive army from conquered rivals and an alliance with two naval commanders in mounting his strategy of conquest. It all points to a military outpost on the Yangtze River, at a place called Red Cliffs, where Cao Cao intends to attack.

This is, in many ways, the classic underdog story: the smaller defense forces must rely on a wise strategy and quickly adapt their tactics in order to have a shot at holding Cao Cao's forces off. Meanwhile, Cao Cao knows he can take nothing for granted; he has his own strategy and is quick to seize opportunities as they present themselves. The chess match of battle planning is a fulcrum of the action we see. And boy ... what action.

The battle scenes are breathtaking, incorporating ancient battle formations and pitched fights involving cavalry and infantry, two naval battles and a fortress siege. The heavy edits to the American version doesn't seem to have detracted from these audiovisual wonders in the least. As for the interpersonal dramas that motivate some of the key command decisions ... We are definitely missing out here. Not that unidentified characters come creeping in at key moments; it's not that glaring. But the strength of these relationships is sometimes assumed. Also, the espionage of Sun Quan's clever sister, Sun Shangxiang (Wei Zhao), isn't developed to the extent it should be—a victim of the two-films-into-one cutting. Not a major flaw, but bothersome because the characters are interesting on their own terms.

The battle scenes feature long shots of tactical troop movements, along with the close-up combat of individuals and their units. Fans of Woo's previous action films will recognize some of the master's classic techniques here, along with familiar elements of martial arts choreography. It's interesting that the "magic" elements so typical even of larger battle scenes in Hong Kong films, often considered necessary for the Hong Kong market, are downplayed here for nitty-gritty brutality (artistic though it is) of pitched hand-to-hand combat. That they are so flawlessly integrated is, of course, nothing less than magical itself, and what we've come to expect from John Woo.

Still, the spectacle of the incredible battle scenes—the courage, ingenuity, and sheer fortune of the southern alliance, along with the clever machinations of the ambitious Cao Cao, make for big-screen cinema of the first order. And yes, Red Cliff is one movie that should be seen at the theater. I daresay those who enjoy the film will want to see the full two-part version when that becomes available to the market, likely via DVD. I know I will. And I'll be glad to have seen both.

Carriers (2009)

Apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic movies are suddenly all the rage (with yet another doomsday looming in late 2012, or thereabouts), and most are silly excuses for special effects, pregnant pauses, and every other cliche beaten to death since, what, Things to Come (1936)?

There is a smarter way to do this story, one that doesn't require a huge budget—but does rely on a tight script, good performances, and a believable premise. That's what Carriers seeks to do, and it has most of the elements to be a solid entry in the genre (and a good suspense film in general). If only the elements came together the way I had hoped ...

We open with a vandalized BMW packed with four apparently funloving, hellbent-for-leather young adults who are knocking back brews and tooling down an open road. The obvious leader, Brian (Chris Pine), is in the driver's seat; his girlfriend Bobby (Piper Perabo) is on his arm, and in the back are Brian's "weaker" little brother Danny (Lou Taylor Pucci) and the fourth member of our quartet, a gal named Kate (Emily VanCamp). The conversation runs to the "rules" that have been established for this apparent road trip: avoid major highways, don't stop for anyone, etc. I was thinking they were in a hot car, hence the precaution, but it turns out much more is afoot here.

Gradually we learn what that is: A highly contagious outbreak of apparently Biblical proportions has rendered the entire infrastructure of civilization mostly disabled. An occasional survivor gets through on radio, but no stations play, and few other cars are on the road ... until the young folk happen upon an SUV blocking both directions, tended to by a father Frank (Chris Meloni) and his very sick daughter Jodie (Kiernan Shipka). Frank just wants some gas, he says, so he can make it to the next pump. Some tense negotiations lead to a near-confrontation and dicey escape, but the young folk soon find their own car has crapped out just down the road, and they reassess the situation vis-à-vis Frank and his daughter. They take precautions, band together, and head for an emergency medical center Frank's heard about where he might find treatment for his daughter, thanks to a rumored cure that has been developed.

It is indeed an interesting ride from here on out for our protagonists, and just as should happen in movie like this, hard decisions have to be made. The plot's overall arc is well done; if only the characters had been a little more careful along the way (which, given the fact they've come through thus far and are well aware of the threats that are out here, one would expect), the tension would've remained high throughout. Instead, Carriers turns to the tried-and-true of horror plotting: the dumb mistakes leading to discovery by the baddies. On top of the stupid (sometimes unbelievably so) behavior, there's the sometimes-inane dialogue to deal with; it's all the more pronounced given how good the dialogue is elsewhere. For all the flashes of real vision and sense of pacing brothers David and Àlex Pastor (co-writers and co-directors) show in some moments (the scenes between brothers Danny and Brian are particularly well done), I have to wonder if changes weren't forced onto the film from outside.

Thus is Carriers a very uneven movie, one that becomes more frustrating as it moves along. It's a real shame, too, since Pine is very good in the lead, and Perabo also proves more than capable of handling the hard moments her character faces. The movie also benefits from some nice set pieces (the arrival at the ad hoc field hospital, and eventual departure, are highlights). So while Carriers is certainly worth seeing, especially for horror fans or fans of the post-apocalyptic genre, it's ultimately a testament to what could have been.

The Battle of Algiers (1966)

Hollywood keeps going back to war for stories of combat and the impact at home. Perhaps given the complexities of America's War on Terror and the situations on the ground in Afghanistan and Iraq, these movies are aiming at telling smaller stories against the backdrop of the war.

No movie can pretend to tackle all the complexities of occupation and insurgency, particularly in Iraq, where shifting loyalties, old hostilities, cultural distrust, and guerilla tactics of systems disruption and demoralization have created what can safely be called a mess. Worse, any step the U.S. takes at this point—including staying the course—is fraught with peril and the potential for greater disaster.

In August 2003, the Pentagon's office of special planning screened a movie for its employees that dealt with similar, but my no means identical, situation that foreshadowed the one we find our military embroiled in within Iraq. As the Washington Post's David Ignatius related, a flier Inviting staffers to a special screening of Gillo Pontecorvo's 1966 film The Battle of Algiers put it this way:

"How to win a battle against terrorism and lose the war of ideas. . . . Children shoot soldiers at point blank range. Women plant bombs in cafes. Soon the entire Arab population builds to a mad fervor. Sound familiar? The French have a plan. It succeeds tactically, but fails strategically. To understand why, come to a rare showing of this film."

Pontecorvo's documentary-style retelling of this pivotal struggle in Algeria's fight for independence from France portrayed two characters with especially stunning clarity, each on the other side: Ali La Pointe, an Algerian terrorist and leader of the FLN, and Col. Mathieu, the French commander opposed to him. Pontecorvo's narrative is clearly tilted toward the Algerian resistance, but he shows a remarkable sympathy for Col. Mathieu—including Mathieu's very public justification of using torture as a legitimate method for quelling the resistance. Meanwhile, Algerian women dress in French fashions and plant bombs in cafes.

The film's stars are mostly amateurs, including several of the actual participants in the FLN's operations. (Indeed, FLN military chief Saadi Yacef portrays El-haddi Jaffar, a lightly fictionalized version of himself.) Pontecorvo and his screenwriter, Franco Solinas, spent months in Algiers finding ordinary people to play key roles in the film, tipping their hats to the post-World War II Italian neorealism and the documentary approach of cinema verite. Only French actor Jean Martin, who plays Col. Mathieu, had film experience. And while the depictions of main characters betray the filmmakers sympathies with the Algerian side, some sequences reveal the brutality of the insurgents toward each other.

In attempting to re-create the events of 1956-61, The Battle of Algiers takes a few liberties and necessarily leaves much of the story untold. Indeed, though the French withdrew from Algeria in 1962, the native government that succeeded French occupation was in some ways more corrupt and at least as eager to use torture to suppress dissent. (The Leftists who protested France's use of such tactics, along with the colonial government's general oppression of Algerians, were strangely silent when Algerians used it against their own.) Yet it remains remarkably faithful to the main thrust of the historic events that took place there, and in attempting to document not only the insurgency that triggered continent-wide rebellion against European colonizers in Africa, it also hailed a new era of asymmetrical warfare—loose confederations of mostly independent cells, using terrorist tactics to weaken French resolve to remain in Algeria. While the tactics were nothing new, their specific application would inspire or re-ignite terrorist operations in Africa, the Middle East, and Europe.

The Battle of Algiers is as significant for its cultural impact as it is an interesting document and powerful film in its own right. Even the Academy Awards took notice; the film was nominated for the Best Foreign Language Film in 1967, and received nominations in the best director and screenwriting categories in 1969. It was required viewing for many '60s and '70s radical groups, including the IRA and the Black Panthers, and was the subject of violent protests when shown in France and Italy. It was required viewing for Pentagon staffers in August 2003, in the early days of the Iraqi insurgency. Its limitations acknowledged, it should still be required viewing for anyone curious about how a film can confront the harsh realities of military occupation and guerilla insurgency, realities we will be confronted with for many years to come.

Brothers (2009)

It's a little late to the cycle of war-weary movies that hit rather hard back in 2007, but then, the combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, each in its own way, continues. The pivotal concern of Brothers, Jim Sheridan's most recent offering, is the return home of a POW, Capt. Sam Cahill (Tobey Maguire), held captive by (presumably) the Taliban in Afghanistan and presumed dead, who finds home a hard transition after months of captivity, torture, and a gut-wrenching decision he has to make for his own survival.

Capt. Cahill is the golden boy of a Marine family whose father, Sgt. Hank (Sam Shepard), is a hard-drinking Vietnam vet. Capt. Sam married his high school sweetheart, Grace (Natalie Portman), with whom he has two daughters. He also has a black-sheep brother, Tommy (Jake Gyllenhaal), who gets out of jail right before the captain heads to Afghanistan to meet his harsh fate. We learn in these few short days that, not surprisingly, Tommy is a huge disappointment to his dad, and vice versa. But Sam and Tommy are still close, in spite of their contrasting paths, and Tommy undertakes to help Mrs. Cahill and the kids out while Sam is deployed.

Those of us from the Vietnam War generation will recognize certain elements of this in common with that war's version of the returning vet drama, Coming Home. This is a different war, of course, but the horrors of war are much the same always, and what happens to Sam while his family tries to adjust to the news of his death presents the first half of this drama.

The second half is, of course, the surprising news that Sam's alive, and his return home—only as a fragment of his former self.

Brothers has all the makings of a solid wartime drama, but it never quite comes together the way I hoped it would. It's the rare movie when Jake Gyllenhaal doesn't make a strong impression, and this one is it; his role as the black sheep never quite gives him the range to develop the character as he's certainly capable of doing. His scenes with the children should carry a poignant power, but they come off as maudlin moments of aw-shucks excess. Portman just isn't given much room to do more than what's expected, which again is a real surprise; she's more than capable of showing the complexities of Grace's emotional rollercoaster ride, but plays it pretty straight. It's Maguire who really comes through here—yet again, to my surprise. He gives the wounded Sam a scary, disjointed edge that accounts for nearly all the dramatic tension throughout this film. It's a strong, assured performance, one that trades beautifully on his boyish good looks to show a remarkable depth.

Part of the problem is David Benioff's script that never really delivers when it needs to and falters at the worst possible time. Unfortunately, Benioff chose to put a critical revelation in the lines of one of the Cahills' daughters, and it is utterly unconvincing as a child's emotional eruption. Also surprising is the somewhat flat direction from Sheridan, a director who's made riveting drama in the past (My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father). He rises to the occasion at the film's climax, in which Maguire's moments shine, but the film's denouement really falters.

Another part of the problem is that this remake suffers by comparison to its Danish original (Brødre, 2004), which was far more nuanced and engaging, even in subtitles.

Brothers is by no means a bad movie. It's worth seeing, and I daresay it won't disappoint most lovers of good film drama. But it disappointed me. With that cast and the talent behind the camera, I think I had every right to expect more. Rather, I'm left wondering what could've been, and mystified that it wasn't to be.

Collapse (2009)

The solo interview documentary—the style that Errol Morris has mastered—is yet a tough sell for an audience. After all, it's basically a conversation of around an hour (or more). So it relies primarily on a compelling interview subject, and the visual variety that thoughtful editing can provide. Morris has nailed that more than once, but his interview with former U.S. Secretary of Defense Robert MacNamara (The Fog of War) stands out as one of the great exemplars of how it should be done.

Morris had nothing to do with Chris Smith's new documentary, Collapse. But it's every bit as compelling as Morris at his best, and I'm a big fan of Errol Morris. Of course, Smith is a terrific documentarian in his own right, responsible for the delightful Home Movie (2001) and The Yes Men (2003).

Smith's subject is Michael Ruppert, as colorful and engaging a researcher as anyone else out there—but, as with many conspiracy theorists, a troubling person to consider. A former LAPD beat officer and detective, Ruppert left the force after what he describes as his discovery of the CIA's hand in the city's drug trade, up to and including the crack wars of the 1980s. From there, Ruppert—the son of a CIA officer-father and decryption-analyst mother—pursued a career as an investigative journalist, working with Sacramento Bee reporter Gary Webb to uncover the CIA's doings in Los Angeles.

Ruppert's overarching thesis, based on decades of research into disparate topics (CIA involvement in fueling the Los Angeles drug markets in the '70s and '80s; peak oil; threats to food and water supplies; etc.), is that we are reaching a point where we can no longer sustain our complex economic system, and our ability to supply basic needs of our populations is in growing jeopardy. Where will all this lead? To the situation aptly described by the film's title.

A heavy smoker, Ruppert carefully considers and answers Smith's questions (which are often challenging; no softballs here, that I could hear, at least) with a suitably dour tone, at some points letting his emotions get the better of him. He is no dry, passionate analyst; he feels the weight of his own words. But ... he is also possessed of a very bleak outlook, one that allows little or no room for the ingenuity that has, in the past, forestalled or rendered obsolete all previous predictions of disaster on planet earth. Ruppert is a very bright man, and he's done a mountain of research on this subject, but he has apparently rejected other possibilities for how shortages may be averted in the future. He's right that oil, if it is in fact biotic, is finite, and as all peak oil advocates maintain, we will soon or may have already hit the peak of production. Certainly there is troubling evidence that Saudi Arabia's production is dropping, underscored by that nation's move to drill offshore.

Moreover, looking into Ruppert on the Internet will yield a widely divergent set of opinions on the man and his work. His former employees certainly bear him no fondness, and some of his accusations of conspiracies to discredit him seem far-fetched, at best. In Collapse, he seems a desperate man; we're informed at the end that he's out of money and on the verge of eviction from his rental home in Culver City, Calif. In other recent presentations, however, Ruppert seems to be doing fine. Which is true? Maybe it depends on when you ask? Hard to say.

So, what you make of Ruppert's ideas and concerns will depend on how compelling you find his arguments; regardless, of course, take it all with at least a grain of salt. But however you come down on the issues that concern Michael Ruppert, you should see this documentary. Collapse is nothing if not utterly provocative, as fascinating as its subject is.

New Vonnegut adaptation coming

2081 releases on DVD later this month. Based on Kurt Vonnegut's short story, "Harrison Bergeron," the film shows a future where everyone is, finally, truly equal. To accomplish that, the government has forced "handicaps" on those of any extraordinary ability whatsoever. I remember reading the story years ago, and thought it was a bracing vision of dystopia. Looks interesting:

Up in the Air (2009)

It's been showing up on a lot of Top 10 lists, and now that I've seen it, I can see why: Up in the Air is quite a veer from the usual Hollywood romantic comedy, on a couple of counts.

George Clooney plays Ryan Bingham a go-getter with a rough job: His company handles layoffs and other terminations for other companies, and Ryan lives on the road as a result. Which he doesn't mind in the least. In fact, Ryan delivers the occasional motivational speech to other road warriors, in which he encourages rootlessness as a way of life. In fact, Ryan can't stand his one-bedroom apartment, which is a run-down version of the hotel rooms he really calls home. But Ryan has a dream: 10 million frequent flier miles. Not for any reward it'll bring him, though there are those; no, for Ryan, it's the thrill of reaching the goal itself.

All's well in Ryan's world until his boss (Jason Bateman, in a dead-on performance as a biz-jargon spewer) brings in a recent Cornell graduate, Natlie Keener (Anna Kendrick), who has some fresh ideas all her own. Ryan and his colleagues are called back to HQ in Omaha to see her presentation, in which she shows how the company can save money—by terminating clients' employees via webcam. That, of course, means Ryan and the other road warriors can stay home rather than racking up hundreds of days in transit. And nothing could derail Ryan's equilibrium more completely.

Meanwhile, Ryan has met a female version of himself: Alex (Vera Farmiga), a savvy and frequent business traveler who connects with Ryan immediately. It's the perfect relationship in Ryan's eyes, and Alex's: no strings, no expectations.

Ryan isn't about to let go of his itinerary so easily. He talks his boss into letting him prove to Natalie that webcams can't do the job the way a real human being can, so they head off to the airport. Along the way, Ryan and Natalie find things changing in unexpected ways, and none of it works out the way I thought it would. To which I say, hallelujah!

Up in the Air is a fine "romcom," but it's a much better movie than that. There are, of course, painfully funny scenes throughout. But there are also painful, poignant scenes of loyal employees getting the bad news about the job that is no longer there. Director Jason Reitman (Juno, Thank You for Smoking) cuts through some of these scenes quickly to give us an idea of the span of reactions Ryan faces as part of his job, and Ryan handles each with aplomb. In one prolonged scene, Ryan's human touch is ably displayed as he helps an older employee, Bob (J.K. Simmons, who is as good as usual), find a helpful way to think about what is of course awful news. Talk about a timely subject!

In time, Ryan finds his feelings about work, life, and love changing in unexpected ways, much of culminating at his sister's wedding.

The cast is terrific throughout, but Kendrick and Clooney really shine. Also noteworthy: Danny McBride, in a small role as the groom-to-be, and Amy Morton as Ryan's other sister, Cara, who has basically written Ryan off as an active family member.

One complaint: the music sounds like one long, loooong, annoying folk song. This movie cries out for a good instrumental treatment; instead, we have to endure clumsy lyrics and earnest singing in all the wrong places.

So, ignore the music, because the direction is so assured, the script is so good, the performances so strong, that Up in the Air more than overcomes its limitations. One warning: This is an R-rated movie, so there is a tiny bit of nudity, very adult situations, that sort of thing. It's not for everyone, to be sure, but Up in the Air soars well past its genre formulas to defy expectations at every stop.

Antikörper (Antibodies) (2005)

One of the FBI's founding profilers, Robert Ressler, titled his semi-autobiography Whoever Fights Monsters, quoting Friedrich Nietszche: "Whoever fights monsters should take care that he doesn't become one himself."

That's the thought that drives Michael Martens (Wotan Wilke Möhring), a rural police chief who carries tremendous guilt over his inability to solve the town's biggest case: the horrific murder of young Lucia Flieder. Martens keeps Lucia's crucifix as a reminder of the now-cold case's lingering injustice—and his failure to bring her killer to justice, something the townsfolk haven't forgotten, either. In particular, it's Martens's father-in-law who continually belittles Martens for his failures as a cop and a husband to Rosa (Ulrike Krumbiegel). With grave doubts about his own investigative abilities, Officer Martens is called in to talk to the recently arrested Gabriel Engel (André Hennicke, in a taut performance). Engel, initially eager to share his depraved series of child murders with arresting officers, has clammed up, leaving the urban police anxious to get more information out of him. Knowing Martens has a possible case linked to Engel, hard-edged Det. Wosniak (Konstantin Graudus) brings the fragile cop in on the case, which prompts Engel to start talking again immediately. But what is he really up to? The cat-and-mouse game uncovers the troubled conscience of Martens, whose list of suspects seems to narrow and expand at every turn. Ultimately, he's led down a very dark path that leads very close to home, learning how to navigate the corruption around and within himself as he follows leads.

Antibodies is indeed reminiscent of Silence of the Lambs, but is to my mind a superior film, thanks largely to the performances of Hennicke and Möhring. The teetering dynamic between degenerate serial killer and vulnerable investigator is expertly blended into the narrative's heart. Great supporting cast and excellent music further enhance this very tense experience.

Christian Alvart's strict religious upbringing kept him out of movie theaters as a boy growing up. Oddly, that may have benefited him as a filmmaker: He has a keen sense of story and character, one that belies his relative youth. Here he's delivered a top-notch suspense film that, while utterly unflinching in looking at brutal crimes and the dark, dark soul responsible for them, is as unyielding in considering what that says about what is in us all. Which is not a pretty picture. But this is an outstanding movie.

Martyrs (2008)

WARNING: This is an extraordinarily violent film. I review it here because it is also an outstanding film, but I do not recommend it for anyone other than those with extremely high tolerances for on-screen violence. So, for the overwhelming majority of you, DO NOT see this movie. You would find it very distressing, to put it very mildly.

There are violent movies. There are ultraviolent movies. And then there is Martyrs, a French film with few peers in that category, but also an overarching journey that transcends mere gore and even good cinematic horror.

The film opens with a jarring image: an adolescent girl, bloodied and obviously horribly neglected and mistreated, running from a dilapidated slaughterhouse in utter terror. It sets the tone perfectly.

Rescued from her plight, Lucie (Mylène Jampanoï) leads police back to the place of her long torment. The investigation continues as Lucie is placed in a home for troubled youth, where, over time, she befriends Anna (Morjana Alaoui), another very troubled girl who is nonetheless able to draw Lucie out of her silence and psychic shock. One evening Lucie is attacked by a shadowy figure who slashes the poor girl repeatedly. Anna is shocked, but Lucie swears her to secrecy.

Flash forward a few years, and a well-to-do family is gathering around the breakfast table. In moments, Lucie enters their life ... and from there, the first part of our story enters phases of violence, retribution, and revelation that are at times perplexing, at times horrific.

As that first story arc winds down, we discover the bigger picture as the second story arc soars upward, and Anna learns firsthand the secrets that Lucie has fought hard to conceal. At this point, the violence of the film's first half pales as Anna is forcefully neglected and utterly abused ... but we now know why, as the person responsible for all of this explains the purpose of this horrifying quest.

To say more would be to spoil, and I'm torn about that: While I would not recommend Martyrs to most people I know -- in fact, I'd discourage them from seeing it -- I can think of one or two who fall outside that category. It is an endurance test, make no mistake about it. But what Lucie and Anna go through is what many real martyrs, for all sorts of causes (religious, political, and otherwise), have in fact endured. Writer-director Pascal Laugier does not let his cameras turn away, except for one crucial (and utterly excruciating, perhaps all the more so for being unseen) scene in the finale.

Both female leads give astonishing performances. We cannot help but sympathize with them, given all they've endured and will endure, even as we may have to turn away at times from the magnitude of the violence.

Laugier's intent behind the ending has been a subject of some speculation among fans, and I'll leave that, too, to future fans of the film, few though they may be. Honestly, it's hard to call a viewer who was impressed by Martyrs a fan; I can't conceive of that. This film operates on a visceral level, but it also has the reach to look toward spiritual truths, as elusive as they are.

I must confess that I found Martyrs to be a strangely redemptive film, but others disagree profoundly. Laugier, to his credit, doesn't nail it down for us, even as he utterly decimates the conceits that led to this awful experiment in the first place. For every tower raised in Babel must fall, and in falling, great suffering must come.

In recent years, a new category has been established for movies that push the edge of onscreen violence out further still: Torture porn. For some films, that's a fair label. Martyrs gets lumped into that category often, too, and that's not entirely fair.

It is indeed brutal. It's hard to watch. And yet, it is a profoundly moving film about the endless horror that real violence visits upon the human body and soul, regardless of its justification; about suffering and spiritual transcendence; and about how its victims find ways to continue living, no matter how horrible.