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Aniara Directors: Pella Kagerman and Hugo Lilja T
alent: Emelie Jonsson, Bianca Cruzeiro, Arvin Kananian Release: 6 September The Mustang Director: Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre Talent: Matthias Schoenaerts, Jason Mitchell, Bruce Dern, Gideon Adlon Release: 30 August Based on an epic science-fiction poem written by Swedish Nobel laureate Harry Martinson in 1956, Aniara relates the tragedy of a spacecraft, originally bound for Mars with a cargo of colonists from the ravaged Earth. What is meant to be a three week trip takes a ‘critical engine failure, meltdown imminent’ twist leaving all passengers stranded in space. While equipped like a fancy cruise ship, those stranded seek solace in Mima Hall, an Olafur Eliasson ‘Turbine Hall’ style glowfest meets Hal 9000, which takes people’s memories and transports them back to happier times. Until, Mima has its own meltdown at the state of humanity. Amidst this existential dread is MR (Emelie Jonsson) who works with Mima and is blamed by Captain Chefone (Arvin Kananian) for its capitulation. Running concurrently, is a fledgling love story between MR and Isagel (Bianca Cruzeiro), a pilot on board Aniara. It’s worth noting that Aniara has already formed the basis of an opera and an album by Kleerup. It is divided into chapters, each one reminding us how long has lapsed since the malfunction. Whilst visually impressive at times, this float through space towards an unknown destiny is rather like being trapped on board a horrid cruise ship without the entertainment. Its dramatic impulses drift like the craft – a sage astronomer gets locked at the bar, a random orgy helps alleviate the boredom, the passengers turns restless mob – whilst its captain remains in total denial. It’s a one-way ticket in the infinite emptiness of space, one which carries pitfalls for viewers too. MMD On paper, The Mustang seems like the kind of tearjerker that I, a sophisticated, urbane film critic would wrinkle my nose at. The film follows Roman (Matthias Schoenaerts) a man serving 11 years in prison for violent assault. He’s an icy individual who makes every attempt to isolate himself from the rest of the prison population. But when Roman is drawn into a prison program which enlists convicts to tame wild horses, he finds that the bond between him and his horse allows him to re-engage with life. The Mustang sounds like some Lifetime Channel movie, but there’s a psychological realism at work that stops things from becoming too sickly sweet. When we first meet Roman, he has forced himself to retreat from his emotions. After all, they’re what led to him driving someone’s head into a kitchen sink. Schoenaerts nails this through his physicality; his posture is stiff and defensive, he refuses to make eye contact with anyone, and when he does speak, it’s in a mumbled monotone. His only expression comes through violent outbursts. As Roman attempts to tame a particularly wild mustang, the barriers that he has carefully constructed start to come down. Roman has to open himself up the animal, which he christens Marquis, in order to develop a trust. It’s moving watching this desperately guarded man as he finally shows vulnerability and openness. Director Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre wisely resists the urge to prescribe human emotions to Marquis. He’s a primal force that can barely be contained, less a companion to Roman than a stand-in for the man’s volatile emotional state. The metaphor might be obvious, but by the time Roman is watching Marquis stride through the vast planes outside of the prison, it’s undeniably poignant. JOH 77