A Town Called Panic

Quick – list the number of subtitled foreign films that your four-year-old asks to watch over and over again. That’s right: no English-language track; just subtitles. Of those films, how many can you watch over and over again, finding something new each time?

That’s what I thought.

I took a flyer on A Town Called Panic, a Belgian stop-motion film about the adventures of Cowboy, Indian, and Horse, three painted-lead toys in a world of painted-lead toys. Roger Ebert gave it a good review and it has generated some buzz on the film-related websites I frequent. I thought my kids might enjoy it, but it took us all by surprise when we found that it came in only one language: French. Undaunted, I made a deal: tough it out for the first ten minutes and, if they didn’t like it, I’d mail it back the very next day. Well, they toughed out that first ten minutes. Then the next ten, and the ten after that. They laughed, they talked amongst themselves, they had great fun. Because even though the film has plenty of dialogue, and even though the subtitles were beyond my four-year-old’s ken, it works just as well as a (functional) silent. Everything a four-year-old needs to enjoy the story is right there on the screen, and A Town Called Panic boasts plenty to enjoy. Before I knew it, the film ended and they boys were begging, “Again! Again!”

The film’s world is delightful, creating a place in which Cowboy, Indian, and Horse room together in a great big house. When Cowboy and Indian forget Horse’s birthday, they need to come up something right away. Cowboy thinks he’s got it, but life gets in the way and, before you know it, the adventure is on.

This is great stuff for a children’s adventure, and A Town Called Panic tells it with just the right combination of whimsy, danger, and flat-out creativity. What a delight.

Broken Embraces

Look, Pedro Almodovar doesn’t make bad movies.  If you have any doubt, just look at the screenshot I’m running with this review: think about that framing, that lighting, that reflection.  Think about how much it tells, how much it suggests, and how much it makes you want – have – need to know.

Almodovar thinks about every act, every scene, every frame.  He puts so much into every aspect of Broken Embraces that we, the audience, dine on a feast of many treasures.  We can enjoy it visually; we can think about how the music deepens and broadens the story; we can lose ourselves in that story; or we can simply fall in love with the characters.  A ticket to an Almodovar film is an invitation to another world, and the world of Broken Embraces fascinates, delights, troubles, entrances.

Here’s the part where I normally tease you into the story, just to help you get a sense of whether you’d find it interesting.  I’m not going to do that here, because I went into the film cold.  I knew nothing about it other than Almodovar’s name, and I enjoyed orienting myself to its tableau, figuring out the relationships as they changed and evolved for myself.  I’ll just stop here, sharing with you that if you want to see how mature, character-based, contemporary filmmaking is done right, Almodovar is your man and Broken Embraces is your film.  Enjoy.