THE SQUARE – Review

Julian (Dominic West) endures the actions of a performer named Oleg (Terry Notary), in Ruben Ostlund’s satire THE SQUARE. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures (c).

Ruben Ostlund’s satire THE SQUARE was Cannes’ Palme D’Or winner this year but this ambitious film is a decidedly unusual winner. Ostlund’s previous film, FORCE MAJEURE, explored a single morally-bad choice in a caustically comic way. THE SQUARE turns a satiric eye on modern art, contemporary society, political correctness, homelessness, sex, income inequality and more, although it often focuses on the subject of trust. THE SQUARE, partly in English and partly in Swedish with subtitles, is sly, darkly satiric and sometimes laugh-out-loud funny film, when it is not just downright disturbing. This is not a film for everyone, but it has rewards for those up for its wild ride.

The story revolves around Christian (Claes Bang), the curator at a modern art museum in Sweden. The film’s title refer to a new art installation, a simple square cut into the pavement and edged with an LED light strip, and marked with a plaque reading, “The Square is a sanctuary of trust and caring. Within it we all share equal rights and obligations.” It is a peaceful sentiment, and pretty far from what really goes on in THE SQUARE, once director Ruben Ostlund’s biting social satire gets underway.

Christian’s modern art museum is housed in a historic building adjoining the former royal palace, now also a museum. Redirecting lost tourists to the palace is a daily task for the art museum’s staff. At the film’s beginning, an old bronze equestrian statue is unceremoniously ripped from its pedestal in front of the museum, as the hundreds-year-old brick pavement next to it is sliced into for the new art installation, “The Square.”

Tradition and history don’t get much respect at this museum but money sure does. Like all museums, pleasing donors and the board are a major part of Christian’s job as curator, and drumming up media, and public, interest in the gentle message of the new art installation, by Argentinian artist and sociologist Lola Arias, may be a challenge.

A robbery in which Christian is conned and loses his smart phone and wallet kicks off the series of events that comprise the plot. One of Ostlund’s targets is the media, and its tendency to bring out the worst in people. The gentle message of the art installation has no appeal to the media, which demands “controversy.” While Christian is preoccupied with his own drama over the stolen cell phone and wallet, the PR company cooks up a plan to go viral. The others at the table are clearly uneasy but no one wants to take responsibility for saying no. When the distracted Christian does not object, the plan is launched, with bizarre results. It goes viral and gets media attention all right but not in a good way.

Ostlund underlines modern society’s growing distrust of government by the fact that no one even mentions calling the police after the robbery. Christian and his co-worker’s track his stolen cell phone themselves, and determine where the thief lives.

Christian is the stereotype of the sincere, serious modern man, capable of saying all the right things but clueless about his bubble of privilege. He knows all the right words but just can’t grasp how they relate to him. We first meet the handsome, sincere, well-spoken curator as he is being interviewed by an American journalist named Anne (Elizabeth Moss). As Anne reverently asks him about a self-contradictory statement on the museum’s website, Christian’s answer tips us off as to just how far into the realm of verbal BS this film is willing to wade – which is way into the deep end. The scene is hilarious and telling. Later, they have an equally telling and funny confrontation, in front of an art installation made up of a creaking pile of chairs.

 

The art world is an easy target but far from the only one in this satire. “If we took your bag and placed it here (on the museum floor), would that make it art?” Christian says, posing a question art experts have been asking since Marcel Duchamp bought a urinal at a hardware store, re-named it “Fountain,” and displayed it in an art gallery. The modern answer seems to be, it does – if you have an art degree. But Ostlund then goes after a host of aspects of modern life, in hilariously pointed fashion.

Christian is a sincere guy who tries to think globally and thinks of himself as a good person. He says all the right things, drives a Tesla, is a caring divorced father of two daughters, but his expressions of ethical/moral concern do not match his actions. He walks past the homeless people who seem to be everywhere is this Swedish city without even noticing. Occasionally, he gives them money or buys them a sandwich but that is as far has it goes.

Christian is all talk and no action, idealist in how he speaks but cynical in how he acts, reflecting many people in modern society. A caring divorced father to his two daughters, he is cool to the pleas of the boy whose trouble with his family were caused by Christian’s unthinking actions. The boy demands, then begs Christian to apologize to his family for the mistake, but while he tells the boy he’s sorry, he’s unwilling to do more. When he finally does, he blames the whole world in his rambling apology.

The film’s events are often funny if bizarre, but sometimes just disturbing. Ostlund clearly wants to disturb, to encourage people to think. Often, the film focuses on trust – who to trust, how far to trust, trust in others, trust in the system. Although there is a plot that ties everything together, individual scenes frequently play out like skits, some silly, some weird, some alarming.

The film is peppered with biting routines. The artist who created “The Square” never appears in the film but another artist, Julian (Dominic West) does. Julian is the epitome of the smug, superior stereotype of an artist. One of the film’s absurdly comic scenes has the artist speaking in a gallery Q and A with a museum staff, only to be interrupted by shouted sexual comments from a man with Tourette’s Syndrome. The audience nods tolerantly, but as the interruptions become more frequent, continuing becomes impossible. When an audience member timidly ventures to speak up, she is pounced on by others set on lecturing her on tolerance.

We, as a museum, mustn’t be afraid to push boundaries,” Christian tells us, but pushing donors’ boundaries is another matter. Lavish parties and events with guest artists are major part of Christian’s job.

One of the film’s most unsettling scenes takes place at a black-tie gala dinner for wealthy donors, at which the entertainment is a performance called “The Animal.” After a menacing voice booms out over jungle sounds, warning the audience not to confront or challenge “the animal,” an actor named Oleg (American stuntman/motion capture actor Terry Notary, who specializes in portraying animals) emerges, bare-chested and wearing gruesome prosthetic teeth, wanders among the tables, imitating chimp-like vocalizations and “knuckle-walking” with the help of metal extensions on his hands. At first the formally-dressed attendees are amused but when one of them gets too flippant with “the animal,” violence ensues and the line between pretense and reality blurs. The scene is striking, due in part to Notary’s performance, in which the muscular but middle-aged shirtless man displays a mix of humanity and wild animal, melancholy and menace.

THE SQUARE is not really saying something new but it is making its points in a strikingly fresh, satiric way. As Charlie Chaplin noted, sometimes you can say something serious more effectively with comedy.

RATING: 4 out of 5 stars

AUTÓMATA – The Review

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Robots. Ever since the dawn of science-fiction arose from the industrial revolution, it seemed inevitable that technology would play a major role in the future evolution of mankind. Or, perhaps, as some would suggest, skip evolution all together as human beings become extinct and the fruits of our scientific prowess take over as the top of the Earthly food chain. Wherever we fall on that debate, the ultimate question remains… what will the continued advancement of technology look like and how would humanity fit into the long-term picture?

Writer and director Gabe Ibáñez returns five years after revealing his first feature film HIERRO (2009) with AUTÓMATA. He dips his quill into the rich ink pot that is science-fiction to tackle the difference between man and machine, or the similarities that emerge beneath the blinding veil of fear and hatred. This may sound all too dramatic, but at its core, AUTÓMATA is a story about tolerance and equality. Many films have traveled down this road, all having their own stakes and perspectives and this one is no exception.

The film takes place in a not-so-distant future where society has taken a technological step backwards in time. After years of technological advancement, the planet is now laden with uninhabitable radioactive wastelands, barren deserts incapable of supporting life. Civilization now huddles cramped within ultra-urban cities enclosed within massive protective walls. Robots have taken over virtually every possible facet of service, but now many of them have become the equivalent of stray dogs.

The robots of AUTÓMATA function on two very basic but crucial protocols, the first of which is not to harm any living creature. The second, and ultimately more significant of the two, is the inability to alter in any way themselves or other robots. These two protocols are designed to prevent robots from self-evolving beyond our control and therefor endangering our very existence. The simplicity of the theory is seemingly perfect, but as Ibáñez borrows from JURASSIC PARK’s Dr. Ian Malcom, Dr. Dupre casually explains to Jacq that life will find a way.

Antonio Banderas (THE EXPENDABLES 3) stars as Jacq Vaucan, an insurance agent for ROC Robotics Corporation. When he is tasked with a case involving a robot shot and destroyed by a cop named Wallace, he stumbles upon something that completely rocks his world and sends him down a rabbit hole of discovery that will forever change the definition of life and humanity. Wallace, played by Dylan McDermott (American Horror Story), is a vengeful cop with a seething hatred of robots. His temper and rage blind his judgement and he becomes one of many obstacles in Jacq’s unsanctioned investigation of the possibility that the “second protocol” could be broken. Jacq ventures into the desert outlands and encounters Dr. Dupre, played by Melanie Griffith (DARK TOURIST). From this moment, he has stepped beyond the point of no return and Jacq finds himself fighting to survive while uncovering the truth.

AUTÓMATA is a slowly evolving mystery with alternating moments of reflection and realistically rendered action that evades the exaggeration so often common to the genre. Banderas fully embodies Jacq’s introspective, perhaps even somewhat selfish obsession with finding something else for his life, in whatever form that takes. Initially, he seeks to escape the city with his wife (played by Birgitte Hjort Sørensen) and unborn child, but his focus gradually shifts to finding the truth about the robots. Griffith’s on screen time is short-lived, but her presence carries on as the voice of Cleo, the vaguely female robot formerly tasked as a pleasure bot that accompanies Jacq on his partially involuntary journey deep into the desert. The cast also offers familiarity with Robert Forster as Jacq’s superior and Javier Bardem as the voice of a key robot.

Ibáñez combines a clear inspiration from genre masterpieces with his own unique visual style and philosophical point of view. The unmistakable influence of Ridley Scott’s BLADE RUNNER (1982) is ever present, but never overshadows the film. Instead, this adds an element of admiration as he takes the flavor of Scott’s brilliant film and marries it with a more contemporary sensibility. AUTÓMATA is less film noir and more social commentary. This is a serious, dramatic film that never coddles the audience. There is virtually no comic relief and occasionally asks the viewer to swallow a bit more of a philosophical pill than we’re typically used to choking down, but for this I applaud. The visual style and general tone of the film may also remind viewers of the South African DISTRICT 9 (2009). Finally, if you watch closely and have a fairly keen cinematic vocabulary, there is a pleasantly refreshing influence of Stanley Kubrick on multiple levels to enjoy.

AUTÓMATA has a lot going for it, from stunningly restrained cinematography (Alejandro Martínez) that depicts the plight of Jacq’s world to the fantastic soundtrack, composed by Zacarias M. de la Riva (THE MACHINIST). Some viewers may find the pace ever so slightly on the slow end of entertaining, with a running time of 110 minutes. The ending of the film may also prove more or a stretch than the average viewer will allow, but in this, an open mind and an understanding of the underlying ideas are key to an appreciation of this film.

AUTÓMATA Opens in Theaters and On Demand October 10th, 2014

Overall Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

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