2004 Winner, The Sea Inside

The Sea Inside

Director:  Alejandro Amenábar

Distributed by:  Fine Line Features

Released:  September 2004

Country:  Spain

Sometime prior to starting My BFF Project, I saw two movies from Spain that I found to be masterpieces of cinema—The Spirit of the Beehive, from 1973, and 2006’s Pan’s Labyrinth.  Both of these movies were odd little films that surprised me—I had no anticipation that I would like them at all as a caught them quite by chance (years apart) on Turner Classic Movies or IFC or whatever network that would show films like this.  Neither of those movies is a Best Foreign Film winner (rightly so, admittedly, in the latter film’s case, though it was nominated—it lost to Germany’s The Lives of Others).   This week’s movie, 2004's The Sea Inside, beat another movie from Germany, the captivating Downfall.  Downfall chronicles the demise of Adolph Hitler, and is the source of a thousand Internet memes (with der Führer ranting about everything from having to watch Adam Sandler's You Don't Mess with the Zohan, to how awful Rebecca Black’s "Friday" video is, to the length of time for a pizza delivery.  Google "Downfall Meme" if you haven't seen it).

Greg Louganis:  Dude's shorts held no secrets

I wish I were reviewing Downfall, or one of the other Spanish films, or even one of the Downfall memes, rather than The Sea Inside.  It’s not that this film is awful, but just that it’s so clichéd and tiresome.  The Sea Inside is based, fairly faithfully it seems, on the story of Ramón Sampedro, who as a young man, did a Louganis into a shallow sea he thought was deep, resulting in his becoming a quadriplegic.  Now he is 25 years older, having been cared for by his brother’s family most of his adult life.  Ramón is witty and charming to everyone and in fact, becomes the object of attraction to not one, but two women he encounters:  a local woman who is trying to convince him that life is worth living, and his attorney who is trying to legally allow him to kill himself.

Ramón, expertly played by Javier Bardem from the Coen Brothers' No Country for Old Men (and who is more interested in killing everyone else in that film) is indeed likeable and his situation naturally brings sympathy.  He feels that he should have the right to end what he considers is a unfruitful life, one where he is only able to envision what he loves in his mind’s eye, the Sea being at the top of the list.  Of course, the law, and even worse, that pesky old Catholic Church, are what stands in his way of guzzling down his hemlock and calling it a day.  The Church is personified by a crusty old priest who himself is confined to a wheelchair.  Naturally, the priest is depicted as an old curmudgeon, telling everyone suicide is wrong and putting his churchy morals on everyone.  What a killjoy.

Mean priest

I don’t mean to be too judgmental here, except to push back against the film’s hammer-over-the-head pro-euthanasia message.  In my early 20’s (in 1991), I spent a week in the hospital roomed with a guy about my age who, like Bardem’s character, had become a quadriplegic after a diving accident.  He was in the hospital for a longshot experimental surgery.  I don’t remember his name, nor did I ever see him again, but I do remember how we spent a significant amount of time that week talking and cracking each other up.  Once, while a well-meaning young nurse was shifting him in his bed, he cried out in pain.  Reacting to her surprised and apologetic expression, he began laughing, reminding her that he had no feeling at all below his neck.  I thought of my one-week roomie while watching this movie, and how much I admired the optimistic way he looked at things, if only for that one week we spent together.   

Conversely, in this film, there was little to feel uplifted about.  Honestly, while watching The Sea Inside, I think I wanted to end it just as bad as Ramón did. But for me, it was just the movie I wanted to end.

The Title:  Mar adentro—Enjoying the sea from inside one’s brain.  Not to be heartless, but if I ever lose use of my body by diving into the sea, I think the sea would be the last thing I will want to ponder.  I think I'd opt for imagining myself in a setting a little more to my liking, so my movie would therefore be:  The Buffalo Wild Wings Inside.

The Culture:  The only thing Spanish about this film was the language and the dying influence of the Catholic Church’s values on Western European.

Agenda Danger:  Are you kidding me?  Jack Kevorkian could have directed this.  Euthanasia must have been a hot trend since because the Academy also rewarded . . .

Best Picture that year:  Million Dollar Baby.

 

Rating:  Do I recommend it?  Nein! Nein! Nein! Nein! Nein!

2005 Winner, Tsotsi

Tsotsi

Director: Gavin Hood

Distributed by:  Miramax Films

Released: August 2005

Country:  South Africa

"Everything depends on upbringing."–Leo Tolstoy

It is perhaps a legitimate point of view that blaming your parents for this or that weakness of yours is a cop-out.  So Charlie Manson’s mom may not have hugged him enough—doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse for him to order the slaughter of a bunch of Californians, use their blood to write “Pigs” on the wall, and worst of all, make writer Vincent Bugliosi famous.  But sometimes, you have to admit that a kid has a few strikes against him to start, all because of the way he was brought up.

Such is the issue with Tsotsi, or shall we call him David?  Played by Presley Chweneyagae with smoldering anger, he is a young gangster in the slums of Johannesburg, not only given few hugs by his ma and pops, but forced to move out and set up keep in sewer pipes because of abuse and neglect.  David is dealt a bad hand in life and isn’t as worried about morality as he is about survival.

Prawn mistreatment:  District 9

The only other film I ever saw that was set in Johannesburg, I think, is 2009’s District 9, also set in the slums.  In that film, an alien ship hovers over the city and the government forces all the “prawns,” i.e., the aliens, to live in an area known as, well, District 9.  A message as subtle as a jackhammer.

"You were a little slow that time."

No prawns here, but the message is the same, if a bit more subtly presented—these people are stuck in their situation.  David becomes Tsotsi, which means Little Gangster.  And Tsotsi may be little, but he is the meanest, toughest hombre in the gang he’s assembled.  The other guys all listen to what he says—like Steve and Eydie to Phil Hartman as Frank Sinatra in that SNL sketch:  “Whatever you say, Tsotsi.  You tell ‘em, Tsotsi.  Right again, Tsotsi!”  After all, if you don’t do what Tsotsi says, you may end up buried under Giants Stadium.  Or something like that.

One day, while Tsotsi is out to do his normal robbery and murder, he steals a car.  As he drives off, he looks in the back seat and WHOOPS!  There’s a baby back there!  What will Tsotsi do?  Throw the baby out the window?  Shoot the baby?  Put a stamp on it and drop it in the nearest mailbox?  Tsotsi doesn’t know what to do.

All right, who left a baby in the backseat of the car I stole?

It’s the baby, and the young woman Miriam he soon meets to help him (Terry Pheto) that will give him a chance to break out of his upbringing and have a chance at humanity.  His gang members are confused as to why he would want to care for a little bambino.  Has he gone soft?  One friend inquires about the pretty Miriam: “Sure, she’s a real hotsy, Tsotsi, but what gives?”  (I’m paraphrasing.  I don’t speak the language.)  The rest of the movie is really about how far this will go.

Tsoti's hotsy-totsy

Tsotsi isn’t a fun movie to watch, what with all the squalor and murder and so forth.  But it is a hopeful movie.  In the list of Best Foreign Films, you will find a lot of European nihilistic ethos, a dread that comes with godlessness and cynicism.  This film does not introduce anything like an overt Christian sentiment, and yet we find a hopefulness that makes this film worthwhile.

The Title:  Little Gangster.  It’s not often when the title character’s name is contained in the language of his name, if that makes sense.  Tsotsitaal, as far as I am able to tell, means “language of the thug,” and is a mixed-up form of Afrikaans used in a scattered parts of South Africa.

The Culture:  Certainly, this is a look at a very different culture and a different way of life than anything in European or Asian film.

Agenda Danger:  This could have turned into a heavy-handed look at class, but instead it presents its characters and situations as they are, light on the preachiness, unlike the Oscar winner for Best Picture that year . . .

Best Picture that year:   Crash

Rating:  Tsotsi is one of those films I will never watch a second time, but certainly worth a good one-time screening.