Martha Marcy May Marlene ***½

Director: Sean Durkin
Cast: Elizabeth Olsen, John Hawkes
Sarah Paulson, Brady Corbet, Hugh Dancy, Maria Dizzia, Julia Garner

Martha Marcy May Marlene begins with an escape: we see how a young woman (Olsen) having made sure no one is watching her, picks up a small bag and runs into the woods. Not a minute passes by before she is pursued by a group of people calling out her name "Marcy May! Marcy May!". The young woman hides from them - the look on her face one of complete dread and fear - before she feels safe to continue on her way.
Next, she picks up a pay phone, the woman on the receiving end asking "Martha is that you?", before the caller begs her to come find her. Sean Durkin's debut feature film begins with a bang - albeit an understated one - making us wonder how did this fragile looking woman, end up being known by two different names and what exactly is she running away from.
We learn soon that the woman Martha contacted is her sister Lucy (Paulson), a WASP-y well-doer who picks up her damaged little sister and takes her back to the summer house she shares with her husband, Ted (Dancy).
Lucy seems to be used to Martha pulling off these stunts and immediately assumes that she just got dumped by "some boyfriend". Martha decides to please her and just nod in agreement of whatever she says, without letting her know that she in fact was escaping from the overpowering abuses of a cult she'd joined.
Memories of the way she was forced into submission by, charismatic cult leader, Patrick (Hawkes) begin to haunt her and eventually she becomes convinced that her fellow cult members are coming to get her.
Durkin, who also wrote the screenplay, lets the story flow effectively on two levels, for we never know if Martha's fears are founded on reality or merely part of a persecution delirium.
Durkin's storytelling is so tight and controlled that the movie can work on both levels simultaneously, becoming a creepy thriller about cults as well as a superb study on the frail dynamics between fantasy and reality.
The director amps up the feeling of constant fear by relying on very basic techniques like ambiguous dialogues, a brilliant work of editing that blurs the lines between past and present and a camera that fixes itself on its subjects until it decides to zoom slowly towards them. It's in these moments when the camera tries to get closer that the film's themes manage to get under your skin.
That the camera has such an effect isn't just owed to the cinematographer, but also to Olsen who delivers an exquisite performance. Slowly she becomes one with every other element in the movie: the camera flashing us with the unconscious threats that plague her existence, the editing showing us that her present is constantly disturbed by images of her past and the sound design creating a world view that's haunted in the strictest sense of the word.
Lesser actresses would've let the screenplay's powerful story define their character, Olsen instead taps into something that's both disturbingly primal and beautiful to watch. She creates a persona for each of the women contained in the film's title, her Martha being a wild child who was always in the lookout for a deeper existence, her Marcy May being an illusion-filled girl whose crush turned into a nightmare and her Marlene being a completely fictitious creation that defines this woman's darkest intentions.
Olsen is able to overcome the fact that the movie could've easily become a critique of cults, instead making us understand why someone like Martha would be eager to be seduced by the "love for all" facade offered by strangers.
Watch the scene in which Patrick tells her "you look like a Marcy May", Hawkes complying with the slimy, but undeniably sexy, traits someone would need to convince you of joining their cult and Olsen displaying an almost childish coyness, surprised and moved that someone looks through her this way.
That Martha, Marcy May and Marlene never become completely defined people is testament to Olsen's capacity of inhabiting several lives, trying to find different truths in each of them, the only universal one - and also the film's chilling bookend- being that whoever she really is, she'll never be able to escape from herself.

Funny Games ***

Director: Michael Haneke

Cast: Naomi Watts, Tim Roth

Michael Pitt, Brady Corbet, Devon Gearhart

Married couple, Ann (Watts) and George (Roth), leave on a holiday to their lake house with their young son Georgie (Gearhart).

Shortly after arriving, two young men by the names of Paul (Pitt) and Peter (Corbet) arrive at their door. They come to borrow some eggs and after a bizarre shift in their behavior they take the family hostage and make a bet: that all members of the family will be dead in less than twelve hours.

What sounds like the premise of your average gore thriller (and probably should sound just like that...) is in fact an explosive study on the nature of violence in the media.

Helmed by the visionary Michael Haneke, this is one of those films that completely divides an audience; you either love it or loathe it.

Making a shot by shot remake of his homonymous 1997 film, Haneke proves to be the kind of filmmaker who decides that when you watch one of his movies you won't be able to get it out of your head (whatever the reasons are).

"Funny Games" is the kind of teasing, brutal spectacle that works both as a genre picture (surprisingly most of the shocking violence here occurs offscreen, proving just how more sadistic the human imagination can be) and as a more artistic treatise.

When the first one was released, it was a time appropriate exploration on how insensitive we have become to violence. The title is both a nod to the torture Paul and Peter subject the other characters to, as well as our own voyeuristic involvement in the whole deal.

Haneke was once quoted as saying that "if you leave the theater you don't need this movie, if you stay you do", his intention seems to be one of preoccupation towards the amount of psychological disturbances his audience can be put through.

But then if this is the case, why bother making a film like this and expect the audience to just walk out of it?

And even more adequate for our times, why would someone go and remake the same film they made a mere decade ago?

The one thing you can't argue about the film is the brilliance of its performers. Watts is hypnotizing, the way her suburban discomfort is followed by a complete mental destruction while layering it with strokes of maternity, slightly awkward sexuality and guilt have to be seen to be believed.

While the usually overpowering Roth completely changes your vision of what he can do, the idea that a few years ago he would've been perfect for one of the torturers might cross your mind.

While Pitt and Corbet become real demonic minions; the actors, who might prove to be the most threatening baby faced thespians this side of McCaulay Culkin, have the ability to haunt your nightmares after this.

Haneke has never been one for subtlety (could there be a clearer metaphor for his accusation as when he implies that we literally open the door to violence?), but what the film lacks in teasing abilities, it more than fulfills with complex brain food.

That he constantly breaks the fourth wall, making the experience more "interactive" is pure wickedness and that he sometimes refuses to move the camera might feel like those times when as kids we were sent to "think about what we did" in the corner.

He treats us like the children who erred, like the adults who should know better and like the kids who chose to become these adults.

Perhaps thinking as an idealist, Haneke assumed that the first film would guarantee a mind shift in our doings, but ten years later, the world is doing worse than ever.

Is the fact that this is an American production a direct nod to the Iraq War? (Films rarely invite to hold such discussions afterwards...).

"Funny Games" often feels like playing hide and seek. The twist is that you don't really know the part you're playing, but you can't help but embrace the challenge.