fredrikgunerius

To me, the history of pre-conquest America is among the most fascinating in world history. The reasons are mainly twofold: (1) The limited source material available, which makes the lives of the indigenous peoples and their great civilizations perpetually enigmatic. (2) The fact that these peoples were almost the only ones who had not been subjected to European influence up until 1500, meaning their worldviews, customs, and cultures were completely independent.

The three known major civilizations were the Inkas, the Aztecs, and the Mayas - the latter two located mainly in present-day Mexico. And Mel Gibson's latest film Apocalypto explores the eve of the Mayan society. As in his manipulative and anti-narrative The Passion of the Christ, Gibson uses local (nearly extinct) languages to present his narrative - an admirable choice that brings us closer to the spirit of the people and the time. Equally impressive is his cast of largely unknown and unprofessional actors. Lead by a talented Rudy Youngblood, they give Apocalypto a fresh and authentic feel. Unlike his previous film, Apocalypto focuses on characters and motivation. First and foremost, it is an engaging adventure thriller, not unfamiliar with genre conventions, but able to use them to its advantage. As in Braveheart, Gibson uses brutality to highlight the simplistic and naturalistic nature of his lead characters, and the opening half of the film is both harrowing and gripping.

Gibson's work is less convincing once the story moves into the Mayan city, where he uses religious and political allegories to make contemporary comments. Though these scenes are useful in isolation, he makes the mistake of presenting the Mayan culture as overly primitive and simplifying the characters. His numerous close-ups of despairing people and symbolic exaggerations become counterproductive.

The film has also faced criticism for conflating Aztec and Mayan cultures. This is difficult to verify, though the timeline is certainly questionable, and the brutal rituals and human sacrifice depicted are more characteristic of the Aztecs. Nevertheless, if you are willing to overlook a few historical inaccuracies, Apocalypto delivers a pulsating, suspenseful, and clever final act. Generally, Gibson excels when keeping his cameras and actors in the forest: The many chase sequences remain inventive and effective, and the lens captures the Mexican landscape with awe and delicacy. All in all, Apocalypto represents a return to form for the American/Australian filmmaker, and while the conclusion is arguably constructed, it is completely satisfactory.

*Review written originally in 2007*

A relatively formulaic thriller, Criminal Law is a film that in every aspect typifies late-1980s American filmmaking, with its exaggerations and stereotypes, twisting and turning in familiar ways, often more controlled by what the filmmakers would like to make work than what actually works. Still, the film holds interest, mainly thanks to a young and sexy Gary Oldman honing his craft, transforming the slick yuppie lawyer Ben Chase into a desperately obsessed man who is driven to challenge his own existence. Kevin Bacon plays Oldman's adversary like Andrew McCarthy on a high. He lacks the sting he would develop later in his career. Criminal Law may be satisfying to the uncritical eye, and Martin Campbell directs with steady progression and an immaculate sense of the artificial: Martin Sinelnikoff's character seems grateful to being allowed to die while exchanging quotes with Oldman. It's refreshing to see supporting characters who know that life isn't really about them. Extra points go to an engaging Karen Young and to a Freudian motivation that is far from the worst a thriller psycho has ever been given.

Sidney Lumet's adaptation of Peter Shaffer's acclaimed play lands stiff and airless on screen. Shaffer wrote the script himself, but his dialogue feels oblivious to the demands of cinema, and Lumet directs without conviction or a real feel for how to visualise it all. The story revolves around a 17-year-old stable boy (Peter Firth) who is accused of blinding six horses with a sickle, and is assigned for treatment by the disillusioned psychiatrist Dr. Martin Dysart (Richard Burton). The veteran Welshman brings energy and devotion to the lead, but his many lofty monologues - carved for the stage - come off as overly interpretive here.

Where the film does catch fire is in Burton's charged exchanges with the powerful Firth, in which the drama burns brighter and the film's thematic weight comes alive. Unfortunately, the road there is too drawn-out, too flat, and filled with Burton's somewhat cumbersome interactions with the supporting characters. As a result, the mystery fails to catch fire until Firth lays his cards on the table through a few fascinating flashbacks. Burton's final monologue is also thought-provoking, hinting at the film this might have been with a sharper adaptation and somewhat looser, naturalistic groundwork.