Presumed Guilty focuses on a pair of lawyers who battle to free a man they believe is wrongly convicted of murder, and features officials and witnesses from the trial.
Following its opening in February (11), a judge in Mexico City halted further screenings after Victor Reyes Bravo claimed that his appearance in the film violated his right to privacy.
The filmmakers appealed and it will now be allowed to be shown again, as long as Reyes Bravo's identity is "camouflaged".
Buried stars Ryan Reynolds as Paul Conroy a contract truck driver in Iraq who much to his own surprise wakes up from within the confines of an old wooden coffin buried an indeterminate depth underground. He doesn't immediately know who has kidnapped him or what he can do to try and get out; all he knows is that the clock is ticking and unless he can reach the outside world he is going to suffer a horrible death.
By most measures of common sense Buried should not be as a whole the harrowing film it is. That's not because it's directed and written by relative newcomers Rodrigo Cortes and Chris Sparling respectively nor is it because Reynolds lacks the power to anchor a film all his own. It's because Buried is a 95-minute movie that takes place entirely from within the confines of a coffin. By all expectations a movie that never leaves a space that's barely big enough to fit a human being should quickly run out of steam.
So how does director Cortes turn a film that takes place in such a tortuously small setting into a full-blooded feature that satisfies its run time? He starts with Reynolds as his centerpiece. For years the actor has been cultivating his presence as a handsome and charming leading man but here the camera doesn't care one bit about selling tickets based on showing off Reynolds' physical features. It's all about Reynolds' ability to make an audience understand his thought process feel his fear and share his panic as to whether or not he will ever see daylight again.
And though Reynolds has proven more than capable of showcasing rapid explosions and suppressions of heartfelt emotions it doesn't hurt that director Cortes from a logistical standpoint never gives the audience any reason to doubt his star's pain. It flat out looks like Reynolds was buried alive and someone somehow snuck a camera in to film it. Obviously that's what a film called Buried should look like but in an age of filmmaking where technology separates actors from the harms their characters face it's exciting to see a film that completely removes the illusion of a safety barrier between the two.
The first 15 minutes alone will no doubt induce uncomfortable squirming and nervous flinching at the sight of Reynolds trying fruitlessly to do well anything from inside his pitiful tomb. The opening of Buried should become a cinematic reference point for how to make audience members suffer claustrophobia simply by watching someone else trapped within its clutches. Unfortunately the rest of the film isn't quite as consistently riveting as its stellar opening.
From a technical standpoint Cortes is ahead of the curve throughout the entire film. That's why it's regrettable that Sparling's script occasionally gets in the way of Cortes and Reynolds' disconcerting ability to make the audience go through everything Paul is going through. When it's just Paul desperately trying to perform simple tasks like reaching a cell phone on the other side of the coffin Buried is phenomenal. It's when Sparling's script runs out of interior threats to throw at the man that things begin to teeter on the precarious edge between unforgettable tension and reluctant melodrama.
Paul's situation is already dire enough as it is to trap the audience in the coffin with him. Between cell phone battery life and simple concerns like whether his lighter is burning too much oxygen there's more than sufficient motivation to feel awful for Paul. So when Sparling finds ways for the people on the other end of the phone to needlessly (and sometimes implausibly) rain on his already crappy parade even more it comes across as a little too forced and breaks the illusion that Reynolds and Cortes have so fantastically maintained throughout.
Even with a few scripting missteps however Buried consistently manages to recoup its confidence and pull the audience back into caring about the situation at hand. The film's ability to do so is simply further testament to the strengths of Cortes as a detail-oriented director (cinematography sound design and score all combine together in subtle yet highly effective ways) and Reynolds as considerably more than just a handsome leading man. It's refreshing to see him dominate a range of emotions this daunting and there's little doubt that Buried will later be remembered as both a landmark film for the actor and a benchmark exercise in isolationist horror movies.
WHAT IT’S ABOUT?
Like hundreds of others in the mad-for-baseball Dominican Republic Miguel Santos (aka Sugar) struggles to try to make it in the local major leagues which would help pull his family out of poverty. His big break comes when U.S. scouts transfer the pitcher to a minor league team in Iowa giving him the opportunity to succeed in America. But when his game goes bad on the mound and an injury occurs he must decide what he really wants to become.
WHO’S IN IT?
Writer/directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck (Half Nelson) spent months scouting teams in the Dominican Republic to find a ball player capable of acting the leading role finally settling on Algenis Perez Soto who had never been in front of a movie camera. He’s authentic and mesmerizing to watch as Sugar — his performance owing a great deal to his own similar background. He nails it and is completely convincing as a pitcher even though he wasn’t initially comfortable on the mound (his own position was really second base). Many of the other roles are also cast with amateur actors adding to the realistic tone of the film.
Boden and Nelson clearly show the love they have for the game but their film is really a striking document of the immigrant’s journey reminiscent in many ways of Elia Kazan’s Oscar nominated America America (1963). We usually only hear about the superstar players but these filmmakers put the emphasis on the great majority that never make it past the minors.
Many scenes are long and drawn out but despite the fact that the film could have used some tighter editing (particularly in the baseball segments) there is still a nice rhythm established.
Due to its desire to be as authentic as possible much of the film is not in English; so those who don’t like to read subtitles might be advised to steer clear.
Innocent Voices depicts the brutal reality of El Salvador’s 1980 civil war as seen through eyes of an 11 year-old boy who may soon get drafted by the army despite not understanding what the war is about. Though both sides were soldiered with young boys it was the government that actively recruited all 12-year-olds and forced them to fight. Eleven year-old Chava (Carlos Padilla) is about to turn but that doesn’t stop him from trying to enjoy life. Since he’s the man of the house--his father left to earn money in America and never returned--Chava wants a job so he can help his overworked mom (Leonor Varela) who quit her restaurant job to stay home and shield her three children from stray bullets. His first job comes when he stumbles upon an old bus owned by a jovial but careless bus driver (Jesus Ochoa). The two become instant friends as Chava rides the railing and calls out the stops. Meanwhile he discovers love after summoning the courage to ask the teacher’s daughter to fly paper fireflies with his friends. All the while the moment he has dreaded--his 12th birthday--looms large over his days. His Uncle Beto (José María Yazpik) a guerilla fighter on the run tries to convince his mother to let Chava live with him in the hills where it’s safe but she can’t let him go. Once he turns Chava must hide with the other boys when the soldiers come around to recruit. But he grows tired of hiding and takes matters into his own hands running off to join the guerillas where he discovers a fate worse than fighting--that of never seeing his family again. Perhaps the strongest element in the film is the surprisingly mature Padilla. Getting a child actor to perform on any level can sometimes be an exercise in futility but director Luis Mandoki manages to get Padilla able to run the gamut of emotions--joy fear the awkwardness of new love--in a very real and convincing way. While most directors would shy away from placing so young an actor into difficult situations particularly the climactic scene where Chava faces execution and watches his two best friends get shot in the back of the head Mandoki defies conventional wisdom and challenges Padilla who is most worthy of the call. As Kella Varela exudes strength despite her constant worry over her children particularly Chava whose arrival home after curfew causes her to feel rage worry forgiveness and joy in a matter of seconds. Legendary Mexican actress Ofelia Medina has a small but important supporting role as Kella’s mother--she provides her daughter’s family with their last peaceful refuge before their lives are destroyed by the army. Minor characters such as Uncle Beto the Bus Driver and Chava’s classmates all serve their purpose though Xuna Primus the classmate Chava falls in love with handles emotional scenes with Padilla with similar maturity. Innocent Voices marks the first Spanish-language film for Mandoki since the international success of Gaby-A True Story--and he’s back true to form. With Innocent Voices he has crafted a powerful and emotionally gripping film that never shies from the ugly realities of how war destroys families and makes men of boys well before their time. Sharing screenwriting credit with actor Oscar Torres on whom the story is based Mandoki benefits from his strong cast particularly Padilla; a wrong choice in casting Chava could have sunk the film. Mandoki masterfully lulls us into thinking that Chava might have some hope of living a normal life in El Salvador--he plays with friends just like any other kid. But every time it looks as though Chava is experiencing life as he should bombs explode machine guns erupt and soldiers come storming in to remind us that he’s living in the middle of a civil war. Ultimately Chava’s only escape is to America but he must leave behind his family much like his father in the beginning. It’s a nice bookend to Chava’s development: Despite the chaos around him his position as head of the family and the specter of being recruited into the army his real transformation into manhood comes when he finds the courage to strike out on his own.
Victor Rosa (John Leguizamo) is a Latino drug dealer from the East Bronx and a very good businessman in his way. He knows that money is master and he's got a lot of it--about $4 million liquid cash stored at the apartments of various downtrodden acquaintances whose rent he pays in exchange for the favor. Aside from occasional bloodshed life is good but when Victor's girlfriend Carmen (Delilah Cotto) gets pregnant he decides to go legit and his remarkable street savvy means very little in the face of so-called legitimate business. He's incredibly naïve and the mistakes he makes along the way cost him dearly. First he teams up with Carmen's friend Trish's (Denise Richards) boyfriend Jack (Peter Sarsgaard) an investment banker--mistake number one. Then because drug dealing isn't an easy profession to phase oneself out of Victor cuts a deal with his boss La Colombiana (Isabella Rossellini) promising her a 500 percent return on a $1.5 million investment if she lets him out of his territory unscathed. That was mistake number two as Victor discovers when Jack turns out to be significantly less legit than he seems (see mistake number one). Of course the whole point of this mess is that you can't tell the good guys from the bad just by looking at them especially if they're all pretty much bad to the bone.
Leguizamo a Colombian-born New York-based actor known since 1995's House of Buggin' for his biting standup comedy and satirical bent attempts to prove in Empire that he can still hold his own in a dramatic role. While he makes a valiant effort Empire is not a film that showcases his dramatic talents to their best effect. If we were to take each scene as an individual vignette it would have to be said that the cast plays them at least passably and sometimes exceptionally well. But a film is more than a series of scenes strung together. In Empire the actions and emotions the characters display in one scene are often completely unconnected to the actions and emotions they display in the next which results in a sad lack of continuity and motivation that must be blamed less on the actors and more on the script and the direction. You know something's wrong when the actors who come off best are the ones with the most one-dimensional characters: in this case Richards as Carmen's two-faced friend Rossellini as the hard-hearted drug queenpin and Sarsgaard as the slick investment banker.
That brings us to the directing issue. Empire written and directed by Franc. Reyes is a film with something to say about the urban Latino culture and community a group of people who get very little chance in the mainstream American media to say much of anything. He should be commended for that. It's unfortunate however that he uses every played-out trick in the urban-cinema book to get his message across. From casting rappers (Fat Joe and Treach from Naughty by Nature) to draw in the crowds to shooting drug deals and fight sequences with jerky handheld cameras to wallowing in creepy slow-motion funeral scenes Empire doesn't bring anything new to the bad-drug-dealer-tries-to-go-good plotline except perhaps an uninspired--if seldom used--punch line best encapsulated by Fat Joe who attended the screening Hollywood.com attended and had this to say to the crowd in the theater "Don't be fooled by the shoot 'em up bang bang…if you use drugs or sell drugs…you're gonna die."