Reviews

Once a month Mexican landowner and olive farmer Leo surrounds himself with his family: three daughters, two sons-in-law (but on this occasion only one of them), the unmarried yet heavily pregnant sister's girlfriend and his own current girlfriend. He also has three grandchildren plus a laatlammetjie Down syndrome son Benjamin (or Benny). His wife, an author, passed away six years ago. Ever present too are his housekeeper and a char.

On this specific occasion he has an important announcement. So do some of his daughters... Familia - directed and co-written by Rodrigo García who in the past has directed among others the television series Six Feet Under, episodes of Bull and for the big screen Albert Nobbs with Glenn Close - has no action, no roller coaster speed. It is a quiet film about conversations, whether all together at the long table in the olive grove, or in smaller groups. It's a film about a family, respect, disagreements. Disappointments, success, laughter and above all love.

Wonderful characters and acting from the large ensemble, a beautiful setting. Just lovely.

Informacja swrotna (Feedback) uses the disappearance of an alcoholic ex-rockstar's son as the vehicle for an increasingly more difficult and treacherous self-discovering journey. Although Arkadiusz Jakubik as Marcin Kania tends to overact his younger drunken spells, he is quite convincing and this viewer (being a dry alcoholic since 1994) could both empathize and identify with him. Prospective viewers might expect the focus being the detective part of the story, which is important enough, but it really is a portrayal of the devastating effects alcohol can have on both the user and everyone else around him. He alienates his son and daughter and treats his wife as trash. In the end it's quite a fine character and case study and a severe warning. Thought-provoking material that won't sit easily with some people. 9/10.

By fairy tale I don't mean anything facetious. In fact, Paradise Lost has all the ingredients of a wonderful fairy tale: 1. A handsome prince (in fact two princes); 2. A damsel in distress (in fact a gay boy in drag, but not transgender); 3. Another damsel in distress (in fact pregnant and jilted, but beautiful); 4. Two mothers (in fact a real mother and a wannabe) both shrouded in mystery; 5. A king (in fact Jaoa the owner of the club); 6. The king's son and night club performer; 7. Several gallant courtiers (in fact performers) 8. Endearing, racy, saucy, funny moments and in fact stunning Brazilian Portuguese songs.

Lovely lovely.

If you require non-stop action, pat solutions to all questions and a galloping pace, steer clear. Iluzja, a Polish film on Netflix, is a quiet, gentle study of a teacher's search for her lost daughter.

No spoiler alerts: Agata Buzek (Hannah) delivers as fine a screen performance as I've seen. Each and every thought, idea and emotion can be read in her eyes and on her face without any facial gymnastics. Hollywood take note and take stock.

There is a moment more than halfway through when/where the character/actress ripped my heart out. I would certainly like to see her in other roles. The rest of the cast lends sturdy support.

First and foremost Iluzja is a character study, not a who-dunnit and its various layers are subtly peeled away to expose the inner self. It treads a fine line between illusion and reality. I was thoroughly engrossed.

9/10.

Superb 'fictional' adaptation of Christian Iacono's true story. When a nine year old boy accuses his grandfather of rape, the world of this esteemed Mayor collapses.

Supported by his family (though not his son - the boy's father) and several townspeople, he starts a fight that lasts a decade and longer to prove his innocence.

The stalwart Daniel Auteuil is excellent as the brandished Claude Arbona, He is 'quiet' actor. He never resolves to histrionics and ham and stays within the perimeter of his character; focused and honest. It's just a sheer joy to watch him.

This presence inspires the rest of the cast to feliver very good performances all round. His friend in jail is but one example.

Le Mesonge (The Lie) is French cinema at its best. albeit produced and performed here for television. The script keeps you guessing, even once or twice changing sides, and the suspense is maintained throughout. The four part series is certainly much more than just court room drama or detective story. It has great insight into the psyche of all concerned and elevates it to the art genre without becoming arty-farty.

Excellent viewing

Very interesting film, not great but highly watchable, based on the post-prison life of supreme French author Jean Genet.

Michel Piccoli is Marcel Spadice, the Genet-like character, who uses his friend Hélène Lagache (Polly Walker) as 'bait' to attract men. "I like real men, not queens."

He is infatuated with Franz-Ali Aoussine, a mixed Arab and German youngster, who works at a circus and still lives with his mother on the outskirts of Paris. (Stunning performance by Doris Kunstman as Christa Paeffgen Aoussine )

Franz-Ali has a burning ambition to become a tightrope walker and Marcel starts training him. Soon their entire existence revolves around this...

There are twists and turns in ths tale and the dialogue has a distinct and sincere ring of Genet's lyrical prose. Not an all time great, but certainly worth watching

What started off as a riveting, honest work in the Market Theatre, Johannesburg c 1985 grew into a full-scale 'musical' that reached Broadway.

Writer/director Mbongeni Ngema then adapted it for the screen. Taking the lead role as Comrade Washington as well as directing, he somewhat muddied the waters. Comrade (his birth name) arrives at a prison armed with Amnesty International's endorsement to investigate the inmates' treatment. He wants to uplift them with drama (acting) and song. But, and this is a big but, long before he starts teaching them the prisoners, both male and female, sometimes spontaneously burst into song and fully choreographed dance. Does that not render his intentions superfluous?

The scene where he gets the first three men interested in drama/acting is superb. Their honest laughter at what he proposes is both amusing and endearing. Had this been the tone of the film, it would've been excellent.

The scenes of violence, maltreatment of prisoners, and daily drudgery are very good. However, once again the 'musical' element interferes. When all the male prisoners are stripped naked, they start singing and dancing - long before the teacher's classes commence.

Somehow the two aspects never truly integrate. Be that as it may, it would still have been really worthwhile. Alas, Mr Ngema was seduced by the possibilities the camera offers and effects such as slomo, weird angles and tinted lenses spoil it all, like saying something stupid...

I suppose one has to suspend disbelief that the women's and men's prisonsare next to each other and they share a recreational area, albeit at different times. The Warden of the men's gaol having access to the women also strikes me as improbable.

However, Asinamali still remains a testament to my country's bleak and dismal past and the injustice of Apartheid. The title is Zulu for 'we have no money'.

This Accident is totally an accident. In fact a catastrophe.

Possibly the worst movie I've ever seen. It's so bad I just couldn't stop watching! Apparently filmed in South Africa with right-hand steering wheel, but in stead of driving on the left side of the road, they drive on the right. And that's the least of the blunders.

One highly improbable thing after the other happens. Where did all those flares come from? A wrecked car is surrounded with them, a girl finds two on the edge of the water - planted for accidents just like this? And in the middle of nowhere there's a street lamp with a loose live wire. To top it all, it's on the edge of a cliff with a rock slide. OMG

The film defies description. Made by morons for a moron like me who watched it all for a redeemable factor which never came. Tondowski et all owes me 75 minutes of my life. I'm suing them.

To be avoided under all circumstances.

Yet when two film versions of the same novel are made, it's somehow impossible not to compare.

I'm in the habit of never reading reports or reviews on films or theatre shows before seeing it myself. The following is therefore my uninfluenced and undiluted opinion.

Let me start off by saying that I've seen various stage productions and synch translated the Chris Barnard (screenplay) Katinka Heyns (direction) 1987 version of Fiela se Kind from Afrikaans to English. Moreover, I met Dalene Matthee in 1978, became friends and read the novel on publication in 1985. I'm therefore more than acquainted with the plot/story and characters.

Brett Michael Innes's treatment both in scriptwriting and direction is laudably restrained and austere. In his retelling of this tale of fate, cruelty and tragedy, the central theme speaks crystal clear: love knows no boundaries, a mother's love least of all.

IMDb is not the place, neither has the space, to do a dissertation, Suffice it to say that I was not reduced to tears, but to sobs, owing to that exact honesty, sincerity and restraint.

Fiela se Kind the movie 1987 was a good movie and the character a performance. Even a good performance. With a great performance by Lida Botha as Berta van Rooyen, the forest mother. Fiela se Kind 2019 is an experience and the character by means of Zenobia Kloppers a human being. She ripped my heart out. So did the other characters. Not a trace of acting. Honesty, simplicity, sincerity. There is nothing ostentatious or showy.

The contrast between the whitewashed KleinKaroo farmstead and the forest hut speaks volumes in itself. Coloured people sitting at table eating with cutlery versus whites using their hands. Class is not confined to colour or race,

I'm acquainted with Leos Janáek's operas 'Jenufa' and 'The Little Vixen'. However, this is my first encounter with his 100 minute work based on Dostoevsky's 'Memoir From The House Of The Dead'.

The handful of people who read my reviews may complain that I only write raves. That's an accusation I gladly accept. From an early age I learned to be discerning - courtesy of my parents - and I have an instinct, a nose, for what could be good and what not. If I sound audacious, be that as it may. I won't waste time, space or energy on anything infra dig.

'From The House Of The Dead' is an experience. This production, conducted by the enigmatic Pierre Boulez and directed by Patrice Chéreau, is mind-blowing. Janácek's music is in itself ambrosia for the soul. Set in a Siberian prison it deals with the past and present of it's characters. It's a difficult opera to stage, mainly because it requires 17 male soloists and an enormous chorus. Only four women appear for a brief moment to stage a concert - which is never performed - and only one woman sings about four bars.

Prison life ipso facto implicates strong homoerotic undercurrents. Both Dostoevsky and Janácek are/were regarded as either latent homosexual or living it under highly secretive circumstances. In the two so-called pantomime scenes Thierry Thieû Niang's choreography (not dancing but highly stylised movements) the sexual tension is tangible. Moreover the (innocent) nobleman Gorjancikov asks young Alyeya: "Do you have a sister?" And continues: "She must be very beautiful if she looks like you." Henceforth the relationship is tender and mutually protective.

However, neither the libretto or the director focuses only on this aspect. A prison is fraught with danger. Anger. Aggression. And prisoners are stripped of all dignity. Incidentally, the one scene where they're stripped down to their naked bodies is not erotic at all. It's heart wrenching.

Leos Janácek's opera contains no pretty arias. It's durchkomponiert with some superb orchestral interludes which the director visually utilises. Conductor, orchestra, chorus and soloists, director, choreographer and designers make this an unforgettable unit.

Yes, I'm swooning. 10/10

Nastoyashchiy russkiy

What a privilege! What a pleasure. Owing to technology I can watch 'foreign' language art films and theatre productions in the comfort of my home. On DVD.

Russian works performed by Russian artists have a depth, breadth and scope that elsewhere can hardly be emulated.

My then longtime companion Afrikaans actor Ernst Eloff was not partial to the music of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky until a friend forced him to listen to a recording by a Russian orchestra with a Russian conductor.

I'm besotted with Russian music and literature. It's the country that gave the world playwright Anton Chekhov, authors Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy Pushkin, Solzhenitsyn et al. And composers Rachmaninov, Prokof'iev, Stravinsky.. And in this case Modest Musorgsky.

I have his Boris Godunov on DVD in a Gran Teatre del Licau production directed by Willy Decker, conducted by Sebastian Weigle with Finnish powerhouse bass Matti Salminen in the title role. It's a 'modern' look at the work with the tsar an almost Hitler-like figure and it's excellent.

However. the 1990 production of the Mariinsky Theatre, St Petersburg is an exact copy of the 1983 Andrey Tarkovsky direction of the opera. Need I say more? Robert Lloyd reprises the title role. He slots in with the Russians perfectly. His Boris is tormented; he knows he has an insurmountable task to rule a country. When two kids want to touch his coat in adoration, he flees in a panic. Brilliant. Brilliant.

From the included booklet - In rehearsal: "First meeting of the chorus. Andrei talks about the crowd - the Russian people. How they will crawl out of holes filled with the rubbish of history. Their movement is to be that of fog: slow and heavy. Then, when they plead with Boris to become their Tsar, their movement should be like rye in the field."

That says it all. A superb, supreme film director at work on the stage, subtly creating Rembrandt- and Hieronymus Bosch-like pictures, masterfully lighting them and drawing extraordinary performance from all the singer-actors. Valery Gergiev, stalwart of Russian conductors, leads the Kirov Orchestra and Chorus.

Yes, I'm swooning. 10/10

Living up to the title of this work by writers/directors Erez Mizrahi, Sahar Shavit Beneath the Silence offers many silences - wonderful theatrical/cinematic moments when what is unsaid weighs much heavier than any spoken dialogue ever can.

The character of Menashe Basson (superbly delivered by Amos Tamam) lives in this silence. He can't express his pain, his suffering, his regret in words. and this very silence stifles his wife Dafna (a wonderful performance by Adva Bolla) and confuses and alienates his young son Shlomi (Roy Fink).

Rather symbolic is Shlomi's long hair (references to Samson?) which his mother refuses to have cut despite authorities advising short hair owing to ever present lice. But Dafna keeps her son's hair insect free. About her husband's emotional infestation she's helpless.

When not in school Shlomi spends his time with his two friends. But his bicycle is broken and his father doesn't fix it...

The film opens on the last night of the Six Day War and then moves to six years later on the eve of the Yom Kipur War. Menashe realises that he is getting lost within himself and is drifting further and further from his wife and son. He does his job - delivery - like an automaton and becomes the outcast of his community.

Beneath the Silence is an excellent portrayal of (what was later diagnosed as post traumatic stress disorder but then was still misunderstood and referred to as) shell shock. The script, direction and acting never fall into the trap of becoming melodramatic. These people's pain is real, their inability to cure it both understandable and moving.

Excellent viewing, thought-provoking and a frightening picture of the aftermaths of war.

Last night I saw a very interesting movie (broadcast on TV5MONDE) based on fact.

Hélène Jégado (1803 - 1852) was probably one of the first, if not the very first, female serial killer in modern history. Known as Fleur de Tonnerrre she is believed to have poisoned as many as 36 people with arsenic over 18 years, hence the film's English title The Poisoning Angel.

Déborah François gives an entirely convincing performance as the beguiling chef who as a child was told by her mother that she is the bearer of Ankou (something akin to the Grim Reaper). Her mother was in fact her very first victim.

The rest of the cast follows suit and both period feel and 'look' are perfect. So is the music which is never obtrusive and in tone with the late nineteenth century.

In contrast with Hollywood crap such as Disturbed (starring Christina Ricci and John Cusack) this work directed by Stéphanie Pillonca with script by Gustave Kervern creates suspense while giving insight into a woman's disturbed psyche.

Swiss director Fulvio Bernasconi transports a Swiss policeman. Thomas, to Canada in the province of Quebec where he befriends and stays with indigenous people.

When one of the young boys is killed in a traffic accident, he vows to find the culprit, because the mother can't bury her son until the guilty party apologises for his death.

Thomas himself is hiding from a stark reality in his life. Moreover, the entire community is upset and gets drawn into the rage. They, more than the unfortunate Mukki's relatives, are bent on revenge.

Although Miséricorde is in essence a suspense movie, it transcends the genre, because it primarily deals with loss, tradition and custom, relationships and the human psyche. Loneliness is an inherent part of every being. It also takes an incisive look at how different people and races act in the face of tragedy, danger and death.

The characters are all well-drawn, including a pregnant policewoman (somewhat reminiscent of the Coen brothers' Fargo), her father, a disgruntled elderly uncle, Thomas himself (played by Jonathan Zaccai), and various others. The actors embody these characters with conviction and sincerity. Marthe Keller in a cameo as a grandmother is rather fetching.

As mentioned, tradition plays an important part, despite everyone employng modern technology. A spiritual advisor has to guard Mukki's body and keep on annointing it. The result is cinema that keeps you in suspense yet at the same time is quite touching.

All in all 90 well spent minutes. 8/10

With sadness and distress I've read (some) of the IMDb reviews on Le Fils de Jean. However, it shouldn't be surprising as most people are prone to blockbusters and sound bytes.

Although I wouldn't exactly describe this as the art of slow cinema, it nevertheless moves along with a gentle pace, portraying gentle emotions and the odd outburst or two. Primarily it's a film about relationships between parents and children, and vice versa and between siblings.

Very seldomly do French films hit the viewer over the head with melodramatic confrontations and every realisation and experience rushing along like car chases. Most of the time they allow the viewer to discover the characters and have rare looks into their inner beings. Although this is not particular or peculiar to French films, a general sense of melancholy and romance are ever subtly present in French works.

One reviewer in particular slates the acting. I can only presume that said person is not acquainted with the works of Ingmar Bergman, Andrei Tarkovsky, Theo Angelopoulos and most works from Europe. Even thrillers such as The Hunt (Thomas Vinterberg) are not shoved down viewers' throats with grandstanding.

The great French film masters (Robert Bresson, Agnes Varda et al) also, like thorough painters, take time to uncover their characters, their stories and their situations.

I won't compare Le Fils de Jean (directed by Philipe Lioret, also responsible for the wonderful Welcome starring Vincent Lindon) with any of the great masters' films, but it's a gem. Mathieu, who visits Canada to find out more about his (presumed dead) father Jean and is taken to the lake where he supposedly drowned, finds himself in a different world. Albeit all French speaking, even certain expressions and customs are foreign to him (and vice versa again).

This is not operatic, melodramatic, grand scale acting. This is gently coming to grips with the soul and marrow of every character. This is real. Sincere. Supported by excellent photography, the wonderful script is brought to life by director and actors and the film is strewn with small, delicate delights. And. a big AND, not everything is explained as in Hollywood films. The viewer can come to own conclusions. Mine were certainly being moved, being transported and being touched.

This is worth a few revisits.

My only other viewing of a Guédiguian film is Une histoire de fou (A history of madness) released with the incongruous and ludicrous English title Don't tell me the boy was mad. It deals with Armenian expats in France and then those who wage war against an unforgivable past.

In La villa (The house by the sea) the director uses Ariane Ascaride again as the central character. After a twenty years absence owing to trauma Angéle returns to the villa of her ailing father. Unlike Une histoire de fou, La villa doesn't rely on a fast moving plot. There are secrets, there is suspense, there are unexpected developments, but it's gentle and 'slice of life' cinema not blockbuster.

I've noticed on reviewer giving it one star and calling it boring. One has to live this movie. It's akin to a Chekhov play and all the characters (with the possible exception of the children) unfold softly and with immense understanding. There are shades of The Seagull, The Cherry Orchard and Uncle Vanya. Not in circumstance, but in the inner lives of the characters. Angéle can easily be a mixture of Nina, Irina Arkadina and Jeljéna. Her brothers Armand and Joseph are also reminiscent of the Russian master's works. So are the neighbours, their son (Yvan) and the smitten fisherman.

There are no emotional or real summer thunderstorms or winter blizzards. La villa contains real people with day to day needs and wants and at the same time unfulfilled dreams and passions.

The four young visitors who are only seen in two brief scenes could be a jarring note, but then again they portray those with sheer hedonistic goals as opposed to the inhabitants of the villa and their lifelong neighbours.

Yet the family is not totally cut off from the world. Political intrigue also touches their lives but in a humane and personal way.

This is slow cinema at its best with excellent script, editing, direction and acting. The lack of underscoring music is also refreshing. However: La Villa is not for those who can only think in sound bytes.

This quietly tense French made for TV movie has been rated by a small number of viewers and currently the average is 6.8 which is way too low. When a reviewer recounts the story or plot, it displays little insight. The latter is indeed a strong element in the movie: insight into characters, situations and the effect of the death of a teenage son on everyone who has known him. Lawyer Tristan Delmas (Hugo Becker) is saddled with the task of defending Marc Lagnier (Didier Bourdon) who has confessed to murdering his son. Unraveling the relationship between him and his wife Valérie Bourdon (Isabelle Renauld) and both of their raltionships with their son Alex is more than daunting. It is 'n fact a stone wall. Into the picture walks Alex's half sister Pauline (Flore Bonaventura) - who'd been at school with Tristan - to complicate the situation even more, because she firmly believes in her stepfather's innocene. Add to this Tristan close friend, a policeman, who is more of an obstacle than assistance. Although Tristan accepts Marc's confession, he needs to expose the motive in order to defend him in court. There are no fanfares in the film. No major special effects. It's not a recipe Hollywood whodunnit. It's a thorough psychological study. Whereas the death of Alex is real, it's simultaneously a metaphor for the ills in society, the delicacy of love and relationships and a springboard for psychological examination and investigation. The real suspense lies in the characters' interaction with each other. Imdb indicates the translated title as The Death in a Soul. The version that was broadcast by TV5Monde here in South Africa carries the title A Soul in Torment. Both are quite apt. The acting is sincere, the dialogue fluent and believable and Tristan's own plight as human being who had sworn an oath is quite captivating. If viewers are interested in suspense stories with more flesh and soul than just tension and moments of shock or horror, they should watch this. Highly enjoyable and thought-provoking

Director Oliver Herrmann uses Igor Stravinsky's The Rites of Spring (Le Sacre du Printemps) performed by the Berliner Philharmonic conducted by Simon Rattle as the basis/backdrop/soundtrack for a silent movie.

The film leads the viewer into the world of Santeria. Three people, unknown to each other, have their lives interlinked. To create humans 'God' bakes them in an oven like biscuits. 'God' baptises them and sends them on their way through life. 'God' also creates their city on a table - and the film ends on this table as well. Throughout 'God' is watching their progress, hardships, happiness and sadness through a telescope.

Dr Bardot has an obsession about cleanliness/hygiene. Lucia is obsessed with sex yet unfulfilled and unhappy. Since her husband has passed away, Esther is obsessed with death.

When the characters hit rock bottom, 'God' uses two coins to cause a solar eclipse during which they are transported to a tropical island to partake in a ritual.

The visuals are astounding. One is never sure whether 'God' is male or female, the transitions of the humans and guardian angels from baked dolls to human beings are subtle but unmistakable and the wordless actions of the three central characters as well as the rest of the cast are flawless. (Lucia's jealous father watching her having sex is but one example.)

What as stroke of genius to take Stravinsky's music away from the ballet and give it a fresh look and meaning. Here the sacrifice of the virgin takes on an altogether different meaning...

Lovers of art films and art music should make a point of watching this. The music was recorded especially for the film. It's released on DVD by ARTHAUS MUSIK. A must see. Please note the film contains nudity

In 1890 medical doctor Anton Chekhov writes short stories in newspapers to sustain his parents, three brothers and sister. Discovered by publishers and consequently Leo Tolstoy, he finds success by receiving the Pushkin Prize. His publishers urge him to write novels and plays. However, when one brother dies of tuberculosis, he decides to travel to Sakhalin and meet its convicts who are subjected to terrible conditions. René Féret's final film plays out like one of his main subject's own scripts: it's a gentle, nuanced, above all subtle portrait (performed superbly by Nicolas Giraud) of a man who is "incapable to love" yet has an intense affair with a married woman and cares more for his fellowman than for himself. Assisted throughout by his sister Macha (Masha) and loved by his brothers, he unobtrusively becomes one of the world's most revered authors. This film should be made compulsory viewing to anyone daring to direct one of his major plays. In a remarkable scene he sits quietly in an auditorium watching a rehearsal of 'The Seagull'. Afterwards he gathers the cast round a table and without ranting and raving or raging, he tells them: "You are killing my characters. You want to show the audience what good actors you are. And how funny or dramatic you can be." Life - as seen through the eyes of Anton Chekhov, and the director of this loving, beautiful tribute - is a symbiosis of comedy and tragedy. The two are interminably linked. It's neither broad farce nor Greek catastrophe. Life is laughter hiding the lump in the throat and teary eyes. AND: life or comedy is never merely an unbroken string of coarse words.

Another reviewer writes this off as a common Afrikaans movie of the 1970s and also attacks the script. The latter is in fact French playwright Robert Thomas's rather famous 8 Femmes which Francois Ozon many years later turned into almost a musical under its original title. The reviewer also refers to seven women but there are in fact eight.

Among Robert Thomas's most well-known plays count La Perruche et le Poulet (in Afrikaans as Babbelkous en Bruidegom); the play which Alfred Hitchcock bought but never filmed (although several other versions were made): Trap for a Lonely Man (also in Afrikaans as Lokval vir 'n Man Alleen); and of course Huit Femmes.

Franz Marx directed a number of movies in die 1970s and 1980s and also made some serious art films for television such as Die Buitestaander (The Outsider) and 'n Lug Vol Helder Wolke (A Sky full of Clear Clouds) based on the novel by Karel Schoeman before he launched Afrikaans's most famous soapie Egoli.

In Netnou Hoor Die Kinders (careful, the children might hear) Marx used eight of the most famous and adept Afrikaans stage actresses and he exploited both the staginess of the play and the stagecraft of the actresses. Sometimes the characters are way over the top, which is exactly what is needed to create both comedic moments and suspense. There is hardly anything common about the setting, the costumes, the script and especially the language (no vulgarities or coarse words) but double entendres abound. Nearly every line of dialogue is yet another twist in the tale and sting in the tail.

Although it certainly won't be regarded as either a classic or art, it still has great entertainment value, even more so for those of us fortunate enough to have experienced this bevy of actresses on the stage. They showed impeccable timing and in their continual one-upmanship never lost the tongue-in-cheek touch. And Marx directed with a deft hand.

Channel 437 on DStv (South Africa) is the French channel TV5 aimed at French speaking African countries during the day with soaps and information programmes, In the evening and during the night it broadcasts programmes from France itself. Not exclusively so, but in general. It also offers news and weather forecasts.

Late evening Tuesday and Thursday and sometimes also Wednesday and then more or less at 02:00 Sunday mornings the channel offers full-length feature films, both classic and modern with English subtitles. I PVR these so I can watch them at leisure Last Wednesday the channel offered Le secret de l'infant-fourmi (The secret of the ant-children). Based on current events and facts (and a real incident) it recounts Cecile visiting her lover Didier in Benin where he has been working for a couple of years. He lives in the Bariba region. She takes his car to go to a waterfall, gets lost and is almost accosted by a woman begging her (in what is to her unintelligible Bariba) to take her baby. The mother disappears into the bush.

Cecile decides to adopt the baby, calls him Lancelot and after some legal wrangling and opposition from Didier and severe warnings from the local people, she returns to France taking her son with her. Everyone believes that the baby is a sorcerer and evil, because he cut an upper tooth first. A sure sign of sorcery.

Long story short. When he is seven he develops serious psychological problems. Moreover he is the only black child in his class and he is derided. Cecile decides to take him back to Benin to find his parents. Not to hand him back, but for him to make peace with his heritage.

Only now does she learn with how much superstition babies that are born prematurely or have an upper tooth first or other 'abnormalities' are regarded. These children have to be 'repaired'. Cecile realises that repaired implies being killed. Murdered. The police and the political leaders are all involved. Lancelot's biological parents are traced but then he is kidnapped and they know he will be killed.

Only about ten minutes or so before the end of the film the horrific meaning and secret of the title - infant-fourmi (ant-children) - is revealed.... Absolutely horrific and it's still happening.

This is not a Hi-Def, glossy movie. It obviously didn't have a major budget. But it is hard-hitting and sincere and as realistic as a documentary. A low-profile film that deserves to be seen.

The European characters are played by actors, the rest of the cast are Benin people, but to protect the children no Bariba child was used. They're all from other regions.

The secret of the ant-children..... How much I learn, how little I know

How proud am I, how thrilled and moved and excited.

In 1969 Ken Russell - whose works ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous - gave the world his somewhat flawed, but unmistakable masterpiece WOMEN IN LOVE based on the D H Lawrence novel. (The latter remains one of my favourite authors.) The one and only Alan Bates together with Glenda Jackson, Jenny Linden, Oliver Reed, Eleonor Bron and many others brought the characters to unforgettable celluloid life.

Now, forty two years on BBC4 has produced a two part series of the same novel, mixed with themes and scenes from its prequel THE RAINBOW. Although it might be said that it would be hard to equal the Russell version, William Ivory delivers a sterling script and Miranda Bowen's direction never falters. It is, in short, as good as the original and it steers clear of ever mimicking or mocking it. Russell's work viewed the sisters Gudrun and Ursula from a male perspective. Lawrence had enough feminine wiles and qualities to truly understand his female characters and in Bowen's version this is obvious. Unlike Glenda Jackson's powerhouse and almost butch Gudrun, Rosamund Pike delivers a cunning vixen, a very feminine near nymphomaniac artist and Rachael Stirling is a stronger, more present, less demure Ursula than Jenny Linden.

The film's sequences differ from Russell's work and where essential scenes have to be repeated, they offer an entirely different insight into both character and situation. For instance here the famous nude wrestling scene between Rupert Birkin and Gerald Crich features much later, is less erotic, not in front of a winter fire but on the beach in bright sunshine and therefore is more plausible and motivated. By now the two friends have strained their relationship to such an extent that they have to confront each other. Incidentally,this version doesn't shy away from Rupert's suppressed gay tendencies. There is no sign of the chilling Alpine snow scenes where the two couples 'split'. Here we have the scorching South African desert with heat so visible it has to affect and effect the characters. And gone is the final discussion between Rupert and Ursula where he declares: "Having you, I can live all my life without anybody else, any other sheer intimacy. But to make it complete, really happy, I wanted eternal union with a man too: another kind of love," With her reply:"I don't believe it. It's an obstinacy, a theory, a perversity." This has already been portrayed and would be superfluous. The film's end is almost abrupt and unexpected and has great impact.

According to sources the BBC Four production was shot entirely on location in South Africa. If so, the art director, set designers and dressers etc should be doubly congratulated for depicting the English Midlands during the early 1920s.

The reason for my pride and excitement, however, is how the local (South African) actors not only hold their own, but well-nigh outshine their British colleagues in some scenes (more about this later). I can't mention them all, but Tamia Visagie (Winifred), James Alexander (Roddice), Natasha Loring (German girl) and Michelle Maxwell (her aunt) all deliver gems. The stalwart and immensely versatile Jeremy Crutchley turns Gudrun's mentor/lover Robert (entirely overlooked by Larry Kramer & Ken Russell) into both desirable and detestable flesh. Tinarie Van Wyk-Loots creates a Samantha who is far more than the sum-total of her beautiful face and exquisite boobs; she is not merely whore but the full-blooded woman in body and mind both Brangwen sisters ache to be. As the somewhat ambiguous and mysterious Wolfgang Loerke (portrayed by Vladek Sheybal in 1969 as a vicious, scheming queer) Grant Swanby once again shows why he is one of my favourite actors. His Loerke is less obvious, less blatant - a subtle seduction of Gudrun's senses and sensibilities. And then there is Susan Danford who in 90 seconds looks like a young Geraldine Chaplin (if not for her voice I wouldn't have recognised her) but demolishes Gudrun as Robert's wife surrounded by their four or five children. She does what Jack Nicholson did to Robert de Niro in The Last Tycoon: in one short scene she totally overshadows Rosamund Pike. It's not scene stealing. It is inevitable and essential. And leaves an indelible memory.

All these actors are of course thoroughbreds on stage. When oh when oh when are we coming up with a local script and a director to do cinematic justice to so much acting talent? And there are many more out there (or should I say out here?) We have a wealth of good, great and brilliant actors. And an abundance of stories. .

I saw this in 1979 and still remember some scenes vividly. Viveka Lindfors. What a 'fors' to be reckoned with! Alex Rocco superb. Michael Ontkean never better. And then Amy Irving. What an underrated underused actress. Such versatility and nuance. Loved her in Yentl. Adored her in this. Her dance sequences are unforgettable. Words are superfluous about a movie where one voice is the monotone of a deaf person, yet filled with so much light and shade and transition it leaves an indelible memory. Moreover, the subtle use of music adds to a general feel of compassion and insight. Both scriptwriter and director, as well as the photographer and composer deserve accolades. Nothing superfluous, nothing pretentious, simply damn good storytelling with great and touching performances.

André Flédérick's direction of Notre-Dame de Paris does the choreography by evergreen Roland Petit every bit of justice. This is an exquisite work relying heavily on classical ballet but shading it with so much contemporary moves that it sparkles and shines and finally moves the viewer to tears. Based on Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, it retells the story of Quasimodo and Esméralda in graphic scenes. It has a character and an overall look which is quite unique.

The opening in front of the famous Notre-Dame is perhaps the most colourful I've ever seen in ballet (or any other form of stage work for that matter.) Costume's were designed by none other than Yves Saint Laurent and what starts off with virtually all the colours of the rainbow, moves through the ballet to threatening shades of red and onto sombre, mournful black attire.

Quasimodo, danced to perfection by Nicolas Le Riche, suddenly appears amongst the frolicking dancers in a beige outfit reminiscent of sandstone. Here is a Quasimodo with no prosthesis to represent a hunch. By only squaring his right arm and spreading his fingers he completes the picture and is utterly believable. Quite a dish of a man, his facial expressions assist him in portraying a misshapen, hapless and misunderstood being. This is his story and although Esméralda gets top billing, his applause at the end is by far the most deafening and rightfully so. He portrays pain and joy with equal dexterity in pirouette and jeté, twists and turns and large soulful eyes. His frustration combined with anger about the deformity is heart-rending.

As Esméralda Isabelle Guérin also fully rises to the occasion. She is sensuous, sexy yet sensitive. The back leg extension is something to behold. I have never seen a ballerina slide en pointe and she does it twice with breathtaking accuracy. The way she reveals various facets of Esméralda's character in partnering Laurent Hilaire (as the lecherous, treacherous priest Frollo) or Manuel Legris (as her lover Phoebus) is a lesson to many an actress. Wonderful! Both Hilaire (with superb elevation) and Legris are excellent although the latter might lack the physical stature to be fully convincing as the idealised romantic hero. Their dancing, however, is of the quality one expects from the Ballet de l'Opéra National de Paris. (Note the exceptional choreography for Phoebus in making love...) This also applies to the corps de ballet. Even the wildest abandon is portrayed with precision and discipline.

David Garforth conducts the orchestra with a deft hand. Not many conductors understand the art of supporting dancers rather than becoming the main feature. He does both score and dance justice.

The score was written especially for the work by Maurice Jarre (yes him of the soundtracks of Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago and countless others and father of Jean-Michel) with not a chord sounding like his film music. The main pas de deux for Quasimodo and Esméralda is tender and sweeping and the choreography and execution unforgettable.

Throughout the novel Victor Hugo mentions the architecture of the Notre-Dame and René Allio's decor needs a special mention. Attention was paid to minute detail and authenticity throughout. Scenes range from the exterior to the bell-tower (Quasimodo trying to stop the bell from ringing is utterly shattering).

This production is available on DVD in high definition and widescreen and belongs on every ballet/dance fan's shelf. BRAVO!