Viewed: DVD rental
Release Date: December 27, 2007
writer: Steven Knight
director: David Cronenberg
Warning:Spoilers
I hate spoiling things in a review, but in this case I can't help it. The first thing I need to talk about in regards to Eastern Promises is the four-minute fight sequence between Viggo Mortensen's Nikolai and a duo of Chechen mafia thugs. It's a brutal sequence in which the vulnerable Nikolai, naked in a steam bath, is taken by surprise by two broad-shouldered, leather jacketed, thick black-soled boot-wearing, blade wielding toughs. There's an utter vulnerability to this stoic Russian mafioso, robbed of his dignity of a fair fight in any sense, it's a horrifying proposition, an actually effective variation of the old horror trope of the unsuspecting assault in the bathtub. Unlike more vainglorious starring roles, Nikolai is not in any sense a superman or James Bond, and within just four minutes of straight-on fighting he's completely depleted. Slashed and bleeding, his life seeping out of him from numerous locations, and having tussled for control of blades and guns, he's exhausted, but can't give into his fatigue until he's sure he's not threated anymore. It's powerful filmmaking, full of meaning to be extracting, but the immediacy of its situation, that being the nakedness of the film's star is utterly distracting.
It's possible you might be uptight about male nudity and put off with the utter sight of the penis, or perhaps uncomfortable in your own sexuality and recoil in disgust, or you might be completely at ease with the whole nudity thing and unphased by any nakedess, or you could generally get quite excited the see the old manatomy on screen, but regardless of how you react, it has the same effect: it pulls you out of the film... immediately. Despite how you may feel about viewing private parts, and it's the same when a noted female actress bears her breasts on screen, it's just surprising. Halle Berry won an Academy Award for doing it, well that's what people like to say anyway. Will the same magic happen for Viggo? Unlike most situations in which a woman winds up topless, there's little in the way of sexualization to this scene and perhaps that's even more alarming.
Release Date: December 27, 2007
writer: Steven Knight
director: David Cronenberg
Warning:Spoilers
I hate spoiling things in a review, but in this case I can't help it. The first thing I need to talk about in regards to Eastern Promises is the four-minute fight sequence between Viggo Mortensen's Nikolai and a duo of Chechen mafia thugs. It's a brutal sequence in which the vulnerable Nikolai, naked in a steam bath, is taken by surprise by two broad-shouldered, leather jacketed, thick black-soled boot-wearing, blade wielding toughs. There's an utter vulnerability to this stoic Russian mafioso, robbed of his dignity of a fair fight in any sense, it's a horrifying proposition, an actually effective variation of the old horror trope of the unsuspecting assault in the bathtub. Unlike more vainglorious starring roles, Nikolai is not in any sense a superman or James Bond, and within just four minutes of straight-on fighting he's completely depleted. Slashed and bleeding, his life seeping out of him from numerous locations, and having tussled for control of blades and guns, he's exhausted, but can't give into his fatigue until he's sure he's not threated anymore. It's powerful filmmaking, full of meaning to be extracting, but the immediacy of its situation, that being the nakedness of the film's star is utterly distracting.
It's possible you might be uptight about male nudity and put off with the utter sight of the penis, or perhaps uncomfortable in your own sexuality and recoil in disgust, or you might be completely at ease with the whole nudity thing and unphased by any nakedess, or you could generally get quite excited the see the old manatomy on screen, but regardless of how you react, it has the same effect: it pulls you out of the film... immediately. Despite how you may feel about viewing private parts, and it's the same when a noted female actress bears her breasts on screen, it's just surprising. Halle Berry won an Academy Award for doing it, well that's what people like to say anyway. Will the same magic happen for Viggo? Unlike most situations in which a woman winds up topless, there's little in the way of sexualization to this scene and perhaps that's even more alarming.
When I started to clue into what was about to happen on-screen, the impending threat to Nikolai as the Chechens approached him, a mess of thoughts went through my head: first whether there would be any nudity or would the character still improbably be wearing his towel; second whether it would be a flash of Viggo's full nudeness to establish his vulnerability and thereafter delicately cut to spare the actor; and third just how long could the sequence go on without showing him again. Am I phallic-obsessed? Not so much, more just curious about the process of filming a scene like this.
About 20 or 30 seconds into the sequence it became readily apparent that neither Mortensen or Cronenberg were going to skirt around the nature of the scene with camera trickery, and I could only utter to my wife "now that's commitment". But that's the point. In very quick order I suddenly pulled myself out of the film and saw an actor instead of a character, and to be true, Mortensen inhabited Nikolai with nothing but conviction throughout the entire film, an incredible performance full of nuanced sadness and compassion as well as an equally subtle ruthlessness. But this scene in the film, upon first viewing, destroys the careful characterization that Mortensen imbues. A testament to his acting and Cronenberg's direction is the film does recover and it's finale is intelligent, with aspects that are predictable but others that keep you engaged.
With the male nudity aside, the other aspect of the film is the lack of the bizarre, which, were it any other director, wouldn't even enter into the equation, but with Cronenberg, suddenly here's two films (with A History of Violence preceding it) that are relatively straightforward with no real deviation into the oblique. However, with a previous film of this order under his belt, here he shows a lot more confidence in putting together the film that he wants.
Stephen Knight's script is the paper Cronenberg's glue sits upon, and it provides the perfect base for a compelling film. Eastern Promises explores the Russian mafia's establishment in Britain, viewed partially through the eyes of the granddaughter of a Russian immigrant. Anna (Naomi Watts) is a mid-wife and on shift one evening helps a Russian-speaking teen, Tatiana, deliver her child in an emergency ward where the young woman dies thereafter. Anna, recently separated (insinuated after losing her child) has a host of issues Watts subtly injects into the character and her devotion to finding the Tatiana's family. Having appropriated the young woman's diary Anna searches for clues, having her ex-KGB uncle translate the book. The translation process is not an immediate one, but Anna, with what little info she first acquires, makes her way to a private Russain supper club run by a seemingly kind old man Semyon (Armin Mueller-Stahl) where Nikolai works as a "driver" to his son Kirill (Vincent Cassell).
The script deftly avoids introducing the whys and hows of the Russian mob by bringing Anna into the fold in any respect, or even overtly putting her in harm's way, however it's the insinuation of harm and potential for danger that carries the intensity throughout the film. What we learn of the Russian mob, its practices and policies we learn only by observing, there's not much in the way of explanations and it serves the intrigue of the film impeccably.
But it's not just about Anna's story, or "a glimpse inside the mob", but a multi-part character and relationship-driven ensemble, where each major character (and many of the minor characters) has some semblance of insight gleaned into them through their interactions with each other. Kirill's personality, most notably, unfolds as the film comes apart, and his relationships with his father and Nikolai come more and more into focus. Where the story winds up isn't exactly where you'd thing from its start, and it's truly an exciting, thought-provoking and insightful work. Perhaps not a masterpiece, but not too far off.
Rating: 5/5
About 20 or 30 seconds into the sequence it became readily apparent that neither Mortensen or Cronenberg were going to skirt around the nature of the scene with camera trickery, and I could only utter to my wife "now that's commitment". But that's the point. In very quick order I suddenly pulled myself out of the film and saw an actor instead of a character, and to be true, Mortensen inhabited Nikolai with nothing but conviction throughout the entire film, an incredible performance full of nuanced sadness and compassion as well as an equally subtle ruthlessness. But this scene in the film, upon first viewing, destroys the careful characterization that Mortensen imbues. A testament to his acting and Cronenberg's direction is the film does recover and it's finale is intelligent, with aspects that are predictable but others that keep you engaged.
With the male nudity aside, the other aspect of the film is the lack of the bizarre, which, were it any other director, wouldn't even enter into the equation, but with Cronenberg, suddenly here's two films (with A History of Violence preceding it) that are relatively straightforward with no real deviation into the oblique. However, with a previous film of this order under his belt, here he shows a lot more confidence in putting together the film that he wants.
Stephen Knight's script is the paper Cronenberg's glue sits upon, and it provides the perfect base for a compelling film. Eastern Promises explores the Russian mafia's establishment in Britain, viewed partially through the eyes of the granddaughter of a Russian immigrant. Anna (Naomi Watts) is a mid-wife and on shift one evening helps a Russian-speaking teen, Tatiana, deliver her child in an emergency ward where the young woman dies thereafter. Anna, recently separated (insinuated after losing her child) has a host of issues Watts subtly injects into the character and her devotion to finding the Tatiana's family. Having appropriated the young woman's diary Anna searches for clues, having her ex-KGB uncle translate the book. The translation process is not an immediate one, but Anna, with what little info she first acquires, makes her way to a private Russain supper club run by a seemingly kind old man Semyon (Armin Mueller-Stahl) where Nikolai works as a "driver" to his son Kirill (Vincent Cassell).
The script deftly avoids introducing the whys and hows of the Russian mob by bringing Anna into the fold in any respect, or even overtly putting her in harm's way, however it's the insinuation of harm and potential for danger that carries the intensity throughout the film. What we learn of the Russian mob, its practices and policies we learn only by observing, there's not much in the way of explanations and it serves the intrigue of the film impeccably.
But it's not just about Anna's story, or "a glimpse inside the mob", but a multi-part character and relationship-driven ensemble, where each major character (and many of the minor characters) has some semblance of insight gleaned into them through their interactions with each other. Kirill's personality, most notably, unfolds as the film comes apart, and his relationships with his father and Nikolai come more and more into focus. Where the story winds up isn't exactly where you'd thing from its start, and it's truly an exciting, thought-provoking and insightful work. Perhaps not a masterpiece, but not too far off.
Rating: 5/5