The Imperialists Are Still Alive!

Durra's first film is exceptional, in every way. The understated acting and narrative development is skillfully used to explore trans-local issues. She is also taking on something we see most famously in Inarritu's films: the intricate connections between people who seem to be separated by place, culture, space and time, but who are brought into relation of simultaneity nonetheless. But whereas Inarritu (whom I love) is somewhat bombastic about making these connections salient, and sudden, Durra is subtle and understated. The problems of such connections are also brought out: Javier sometimes makes far-fetched claims about his father's political past in order to try and relate to the experience Asya is having of worrying about her brother who is in Beirut during Israeli bombing.

The film also explores class and the politics of distinction in very interesting ways. Putting a Palestinian artist and a Mexican PhD law student--both of clearly upper middle class backgrounds--"on the road" throughout New York is incredibly fruitful. Asya's Mexican cleaning lady is one point where these class issues are worked out. Asya's ambivalence towards the milieu of artists is another.

Thoroughly enjoyable on so many levels, complex, subtle, critical and genuinely funny.

This is not a good movie.

The script and direction are terrible and its supposed use of New York locations was pretty much a waste. It looks like the whole thing was shot within a limited set of blocks in the East Village and rarely ventured elsewhere. They pretty much could have shot this entire film in a warehouse in Toronto, saved themselves a bunch of money and been no worse off for it.

The acting of the male roles was fair, but all the woman's roles were both written and acted terribly, leading me to believe that the director doesn't know how to direct or cast women.

I gave this movie one star at Sundance.

Summary: not good, skip it.

Oh my god, I truly hope this thing was not paid for by tax payers, namely the National Endowment for the Arts.

When independent filmmakers go out of there way to make a non-Hollywood movie, they wind up making a disaster. This is a disaster.

I saw this mess on the Sundance channel presented by Robert Redford. Apparently, old man Redford thought this movie was good enough to present himself. Poor misbegotten soul.

They describe this movie as a: "Manhattan artist Asya (Elodie Bouchez) suspects that her friend has been abducted by the CIA in this compelling drama detailing the effects of the war on terror on the lives of average Americans. Meanwhile, her new beau dismisses her fears as paranoia."

Not at all. There is no compelling drama, No war on terror, No CIA, No abduction. The only paranoia I can see in this movie is the investors who paid for it. This movie has the same importance as the controversial "Piss Christ." No merit of art can be seen anywhere in this movie.

Characters meander around for 90 minutes doing absolutely nothing to involve the audience. You will not care what happens to the characters. Because the director gives the audience nothing to care about. An ingrown toe nail is more compelling than this.

I will recommend this movie only so you can see why movies like these should never see the silver screen.

Writer-director Zeina Durra creates quite a character in Asya, (played fantastically by Élodie Bouchez). Asya is a Middle Eastern conceptual artist living in post 9/11 New York. When her ex, and first love, goes missing, she thinks the CIA may have put him on a rendition plane. Perhaps Asya is under surveillance. Don't worry, this is not a political thriller, even though serious subjects play in the background. The mood has a delightful lightness, and is very funny. We get to visit underground nightclubs, experimental theaters, and avant-garde art galleries as Asya and her boyfriend try to unravel the mystery. Whit Stillman of Metropolitan fame makes the most of a wordless cameo.

This is a pseudo intellectual mess of that is way too pleased with its own perceived cleverness. Elodie Bouchez, despite her obvious physical beauty, is annoying as a pouty supposedly daring artist. The story is disjointed not because it is trying to make a stylistic point but because of the poor construct of the screenplay and the message it is trying to make is lost in all the pointless dialog and the bad acting. Ironically Zeina Durra makes fun of plays and artwork that are exactly like her own work. If you want proof that the imperialists are still alive just read the news and save the 91 minutes needed to watch this rambling film for something more fruitful, like watching paint dry.