Beyond Utopia
Madeleine Gavin
2023, 115 mins.
“We were just born in the wrong country”
Told through unerring eyes (cinematography Hyon Seok Kim mightily reinforced by the “hand-held” cameras of those journeys, wee bits of archive footage and some tastefully done animations), Gavin’s film faithfully, marvellously captures the plight of North Koreans deserting their autocratic country—at any cost, (too frequently with their lives) to escape hell on earth, then hope/pray for a better life anywhere in South Korea.
Largely shot before COVID (when escape routes through China, Loas, Vietnam and Thailand were shuttered—certainly cutting into the lucrative business of their “brokers” (guides for hire wanting cash on the barrel whether their charges lived through walking up and down mountains or died by the wayside).
At the centre of it all is Pastor Kim—a successful “deserter” in his own right—who has dedicated his life to helping others find their way to South Korea and the end of tyranny, persecution and the godless (but godlike in their own minds) Kim Jong dynasty, thanks only to Stalin’s “wisdom” in choosing a loyalist to lead this war-torn nation—once Kim Jong Un managed to learn a smattering of the Korean language.
And so we see the Koh family (from grandma to toddler) cross the Yalu River in the dead of night (often literally, if the border guards discover them) hoping to end up on the far shores of the Mekong River and Thailand: gateway to much more welcome, accepting South Korea.
Lurking in the background is an anxious mother (and successful “deserter”) hoping against hope that her son can escape the clutches of a North Korean gulag and join her in Seoul. Not all stories have happy endings (in the real world).
How incredibly timely to see this film in the shadow of the next wannabe totalitarian dictator south of the border, and the desperate escapes of innocent people in Ukraine and the Middle East. We can only hope that the club of ignorant despots won’t be able to admit a new member—orange or not. JWR
20 Days in Mariupol
Mstyslav Chernov
2023, 95 mins.
“This is painful to watch”
Seeing a film such as this makes me ashamed to be a member of the human race (not unlike the movers and shakers of North Korea, above).
Beginning in February 24, 2022 Chernov and his courageous crew, opt to stay in the about-to-besieged Mariupol, rather than quickly escape to much safer parts of Ukraine. The AP journalist knows instinctively that if he doesn’t tell/show the world what is actually transpiring on the ground, then the Russian propaganda machine may win more than just the battle.
Of greatest importance is the gruesome, grizzly documentation (belying Putin’s claim that civilians are not being targeted) of innocent children (born or not) meeting their makers for no apparent reason and far before their time. Imagine playing soccer with your pals only to have your legs blown off then dying of those injuries.
As the situation for the entrapped citizens of Mariupol worsens (no electricity, water, scarce food and internet) truly makes life hell on earth, little wonder that the struggle to merely survive results in looting—bringing outrage on both sides of the broken glass.
Still, Chernov manages to get his stories and videos out to the rest of the world fuelling outrage from most and mockery (no surprise) from the Russian ambassador to the UN who insists that this first-hand coverage is nothing more than fake news and actors playing the injured and dead. That’s about as believable that Putin’s “special military operation” (aka genocide most foul) had to be launched for “Nazi” Zelensky and his merry men to attack Russia’s heartless (at least in the Kremlin) homeland.
Underscoring everything is Jordan Dykstra’s appropriately brooding “war drum”-laden original music even as the next scene of carnage, attacks on hospitals (no Mana shields here), the truly innocents’ apartments in ruins and lives ended daily for no apparent reason other than a megalomaniac’s unquenchable ego.
Cheers to Chernov and the brave citizenry of Mariupol for allowing the rest of the world (who care to) watch and allowing us into their miserable worlds.
JWR
Orlando: My Political Biography
Paul Preciado
2023, 98 mins.
“Praise God I’m a woman”
Yet another rendering of Virginia Woolf’s groundbreaking novel, viewers are blessed to witness the life, times and struggles/joys of 21 Orlandos spanning centuries—concluding in 2028 (the 100th anniversary of Orlando: A Biography’s first publication).
The mantra “to make their life a work of art” is apparent in every scene; the large cast is marvellously convincing in every transformation.
Clara Deshayes’ score adds further depth and moral support to the narrative. Victor Zébo’s angle-rich cinematography keeps the eye as engaged as the ear.
The timing couldn’t be better—even as many U.S. states declare war on transgender and gay citizens; not to be outdone, Vladimir Putin’s recent “law” zeroing in on
LGBTQ Propaganda” (allowing openly homosexuals to be arrested, e.g. in gay bars), is just a few more signs of the times. Preciado’s film ought to be required viewing for all bigots, but few will have enough guts to face the truth (unlike those who are loud and proud to express themselves, just as they are). JWR