Parky At the Pictures (23/5/2025)

(Reviews of Mongrel; When the Light Breaks; Berlinguer: La Grande Ambizione; and Make It to Munich)

MONGREL.

Born in Singapore, but based in Taiwan, Chiang Wei Liang has focussed so far in his brief career on the fate of migrants. Shorts such as Anchorage Prohibited (2015) and Nyi Ma Lay (2017), as well as the virtual reality item, Only the Mountain Remains (2018), brought him to the attention of the great Hou Hsiao-hsien and, even though he has retired from directing, Chiang's mentor (along with his regular editor, Liao Ching-sung) has executive produced his debut feature, Mongrel.

Hailing from Thailand, Oom (Wanlop Rungkumjad) works as an illegal, unqualified caregiver in Taiwan. His newest patient, Hui (Kuo Shu-wei) is living with cerebral palsy and his elderly mother, Mei (Lu Yi-ching) is finding it hard to cope. No sooner has Oom emerged from their cramped apartment than boss Hsing (Daniel Hong) grabs the money and hands him a few notes to buy food for the other migrants from Indonesia, Vietnam, and the Philippines in the compound. They haven't been paid for two months and Hsing uses Oom as his intermediary to explain that money is tight and that they will be paid as soon as it's feasible.

Indri collapses during the discussion and Oom agrees to take her shift and divide the money between the others to stop them from squabbling over who should be chosen. He is scrutinised by the daughter-in-law of the patient, but Hsing assures her that Oom is his best man. Driving home, he reveals that six of the migrants are going to have to be moved on, as he is heavily in debt and needs to sell them to people traffickers, who run a karaoke bar in the town. Oom is disappointed when his friend is picked, but Hsing thinks he's a troublemaker and is keen to get him out of his hair.

Arriving at the bar, the six are ushered into a room with throbbing music playing, while Hsing goes to see Brother Te (Akira Chen), the gangster who runs the camp and Hsing's business. He promises to help with the debts, but Hsing has a more pressing issue to attend to. Indri has died and he has Oom carry the body into the forest and dump it, so that no questions can be asked. But Oom also has things on his mind, as Mei had tried to put Hui in a home, but he had been so distressed that she had not been able to leave him. As she is ailing, she asks Oom to mercy kill her son so that he doesn't have to go back to the home when she dies.

She hopes to leave Oom alone with Hui on his next visit. But he has confided her request to Hsing, who is furious because he stands to lose a client. Thus, he imposes Jude on Oom, who is frustrated by the fact he refuses to help out and upsets Hui by playing porn on the TV. When he gives him his bath, when Jude refuses to help him, Oom can't resist giving Hui a hand job out of curiosity to see how he would react.

Back at the compound, Oom's friend, Mhai (Atchara Suwan), asks why no one has heard from the six workers who went off to the camp. She says she no longer trusts Oom and he is hurt when they pack their belongings in the night and disappear. He also feels humiliated when he is searched before leaving the home of Indri's elderly female patient and finds himself babysitting her grandson into the bargain. The daughter-in-law doesn't like Oom and wants Indri back, but Hsing tells her that she gets what she pays for and can't complain if she can only afford illegal care.

As he short-staffed, Hsing makes a deal with Brother Te to collect eight smuggled people from his hiding place. Oom feels bad about duping them into believing they will get a good job. But he has no option but to collect their passports and swigs beer despondently when Hsing calls in on the karaoke bar. Indeed, he feels so bad that he walks to the woods to pay his respects to Indri's body and is slipping some money into her pockets when he realises he's being watched by a stray dog.

When next caring for her patient, Oom panics when the old woman loses consciousness. As he's locked in the house, he panics and calls for the paramedics and they have to wait until the daughter-in-law gets home before they can gain admittance. Hsing is livid with Oom for not calling him so he could manage the situation without the authorities knowing about his involvement and he gives the Thai a kicking in the rain outside the house.

Refusing to give up on Mei and Hui, Oom goes to their house and rushes Mei to the hospital when she falls ill. She insists on driving home and nearly crashes the car on a wet, misty road in the dusk light. Realising that she is in no condition to care for Hui, Oom accedes to her request. However, Hui overhears and starts sobbing so hard that Mei has to console him. Eventually, she is satisfied that her son is settled and she signals to Oom to do his work. He bursts into tears at both the ending of a life and the hopelessness of his own situation.

When he wakes next morning - having possibly dreamt of washing Indri's limbs, while chatting to her as though she was a living patient - a three-legged dog is snuffling and whining around his bed. It turns in the doorway when he lets it out, as if to suggest that if he can negotiate life in this condition, so can Oom. Perhaps together.

It's not always clear precisely what's going on around Oom. But life isn't always easily readable and rarely has it seemed more nasty, brutish, and short than in Chiang Wei Liang's harrowing drama, which he co-directed with Yin You Qiao. Stripping existence down to harsh conditions, cruel decisions, and raw emotions, this is what social realism should be. There's more Lav Diaz than Ken Loach about the direction, although it's also possible to detect hints of Hou Hsiao-hsien's humanism in the way in which the deeply flawed, but utterly bereft Thai migrant behaves.

For all the condemnation of trafficking, modern slavery, and the lack of affordable health care in Taiwan (Chiang once worked as a carer), this is more a character study than a socio-political tract. Oom is played with barely perceptible changes of facial expression by Wanlop Rungkumjad, whose body language reeks of exhaustion and defeat. Yet, he keeps trying to believe that there is good in even the worst people (after all, Hsing gives him some ear buds and occasionally treats him to chips) and he strives to do his best for his patients, even though he has evidently out of his depth.

Cinematographer Michaël Capron keeps him hemmed in by keeping the camera close, while also shooting inside tiny rooms in dimmed light. The Academy ratio action is often viewed through door frames or from the back of vehicles, while the oppressive sound mix designed by R.T. Kao and Lim Ting Li emphasises how entrapped Oom is, even when he's out in the forest. Dounia Sichov's editing also imposes a sense of inevitability, as Oom is powerlessly caught in the middle and despised by those above and below him. It's a predicament that drives home Chiang's points, while also reminding us of the grim realities facing so many far from home and simply trying to do their best for their loved ones.

WHEN THE LIGHT BREAKS.

According to those in the know, Rúnar Rúnarsson's The Last Farm (2004) is the most garlanded short in screen history, having picked up over 90 awards worldwide. It was also nominated for an Oscar and Rúnarsson has since bolstered his reputation with the features, Volcano (2011), Sparrows (2015), and Echo (2019). These only graced the festival circuit, but When the Light Breaks has finally secured the Icelander a UK theatrical release.

Una (Elín Hall) and Diddi (Baldur Einarsson) play together in a band. However, they have embarked upon a secret relationship and Una is keen for Diddi to breakup with his long-distance girlfriend, Klara (Katla Njálsdóttir), so they can stop sneaking around. Having agreed to go to Japan together after gazing at the sunset over a joint, Diddi leaves early to catch a flight and Una almost gets caught in the bedroom by Diddi's housemate, Gunni (Mikael Kaaber).

Taking the bus to school, Una attends her classes and tries to find a way to recharge her phone. She bumps into Gunni, who is scared that Diddi has been caught in the Reykjavík traffic tunnel that is blazing after the eruption of a giant fireball. She refuses to accept that Diddi has died and leaves angry messages on his phone. But she and Gunni are joined at the Red Cross trauma centre by Bassi (Ágúst Wigum), who confirms that Diddi and their mutual friend, Rikki, were travelling in Gunni's borrowed car.

Having hugged Siggi (Gunnar Hrafn Kristjánsson) as more friends start to arrive, Una feels overcome and retreats to the washroom for a cry. When she returns, she decides she can't face everyone offering condolences thinking she's just another friend. Leaving hurriedly, Una phones her father (Þorsteinn Bachman), who comes to collect her. They haven't always got along and Una is angry when he asks about her smoking. But he takes her for hot dog at a waterfront kiosk and they chat until she gets a call from Gunni, asking if they can meet at the gang's favourite bar.

The toast Diddi with vodka and Una feels frustrated when they discuss how to treat Klara because she and Diddi were regarded as the perfect couple. She downs a couple of shots when Klara arrives and feels awkward when they ask her to relate how Diddi got drunk during a performance art class and she stifles giggles and tears, as she talks looking down at the bar. Gunni seeks her out while she's smoking to let her know that he knew about her romance with Diddi and understands how fed up she feels that Klara is getting all the sympathy when she has to keep quiet.

The women bump into each other in the washroom and Klara admits she was jealous when Una joined the band because she's so beautiful. When she explains she calmed down on discovering Una was a lesbian, she corrects her by saying she's pansexual and that her last lover was a man. They hug and Una wishes she could flee, but she has promised Gunni that she will go to the memorial service at the Hallgrímskirkja. Once again, she finds herself alone with Klara, who bums a cigarette and disparages performance art (Una's degree course) before she shows her how to experience flight by backing away from one of the church's upper windows.

Returning to Bassi's house for beers, Una feels uncomfortable when they look at photos of Diddi and everyone coos over what a cute couple he made with Klara. Gunni has to stop Una from shooting her mouth off, but she reins herself in and joins in the dancing when they start to bop. Fighting her emotions, Una falls to her knees and sobs and Klara and Gunni cradle her. Siggi and Bassi join in and the friends cling to each other in grief.

Klara watches Una smoking through the window and their faces merge on the glass. As they rides away together, Klara leans into Una from behind Una, as they head for some rocks overlooking the sea. They share a cigarette and Klara confesses that she'll have no idea what to do with herself after she flies home. She suggests that Diddi is the setting sun and that they are saying goodbye together.

When they return to Diddi's house, Una remembers to behave like the guest after hanging her coat on a peg. She brushes her teeth with her finger rather than use his toothbrush and Klara does the same. They lie side by side in bed, but Klara turns to face Una (still not having let on if she suspects anything) and rests her head on her shoulder when she also turns inward. As Klara hugs her tightly, Una strokes her hair and ponders how much has changed since she woke up in the same bed earlier in the day.

Delicately directed and impeccably played, this is a compelling study of how young people deal with bereavement. Diddi's death is one of many in what is presented as a major tragedy. But Rúnarsson blocks out the national noise to focus on the desolation of a small group of five friends, only two of whom know the whole truth of the situation. In lesser hands, this could easily have descended into melodrama, as either Una loses her cool or Klara guesses what has been going on behind her back. But Rúnarsson deftly conveys how Una comes to appreciate that she is not alone in her sense of loss and injustice and that claiming priority as chief mourner will do nothing to deaden or diminish her pain.

With her cropped hair and contrasting earrings, actor-singer Elín Hall gives Una a punky pugnacity that contrasts with the passivity that Katla Njálsdóttir exhibits as Klara, who has flown to the capital after hearing news of the accident. She clearly has her theories about the androgynous Una or she wouldn't have been so sneerily dismissive of performance art in the Hallgrímskirkja square. But she doesn't begrudge Una her feelings and the Persona-like merging of their faces says as much about the emotional maturity of women as any burgeoning rapport between Diddi's bereft lovers, as they needfully latch on to anything that will help deal with their unbearable pain.

Beautifully photographed by Sophia Olsson, the landscape and landmarks play a key role in underlining the insignificance of human beings, while the close-ups highlight our ability to feel deeply while somehow finding the wherewithal to carry on and console others in the process - even if it means putting on a performance to the sublime strains of Jóhann Jóhannsson's ethereal Catullus-inspired song, `Odi et Amo', which translates as `I hate you and love you'.

BERLINGUER: LA GRANDE AMBIZIONE.

It seems inconceivable, but at midway point in Italian political history between Benito Mussolini and Giorgia Meloni, the Italian Communist Party had 1.5 million members and could summon 12 million votes at the polls. The primary reason for the popularity of the PCI was the non-dogmatic leadership of Enrico Berlinguer, whose influence on Italy in the 1970s comes under scrutiny in Andrea Segre's docudrama, Berlinguer: la grande ambizione/The Grand Ambition, which is screening some time in June at the Regent Street Cinema in London under the auspices of CinemaItaliaUK.

After a tense meeting about the lessons to be learned from Salvador Allende's overthrow in Chile with Bulgarian leader, Todor Zhivkov (Svetoslav Dobrev), in Sofia on 3 October 1973, an attempt is made on the life of Enrico Berlinguer (Elio Germano). The leader of the Italian Communist Party is known for the conviction that socialism can thrive within a democracy, which has set him at odds with the Kremlin. He survives the flipping of his car by a ramming truck, although his Bulgarian travelling companion is killed, while asking about his favourite film by Federico Fellini.

Berlinguer tells wife Letizia Laurenti (Elena Radonicich) that the collision was not an accident, but he refuses to speak out, as he is hoping to find a way of gaining the PCI a foothold in the corridors of power by forming working alliance with the ruling Christian Democrats, led by Aldo Moro (Roberto Citran). He's quizzed about his proposals at a factory in Ravenna, where he also answers questions about Amintore Fanfani's referendum to quash the 1970 law legalising divorce. At a gathering of women campaigning for a `No' vote, Berlinguer listens to a song about women's rights and applauds. But he is more interested in defeating a plebiscite that has been designed to divide the classes at a time when a significant political breakthrough could be achieved.

When a bomb goes off during a socialist rally in Brescia in May 1974, some PCI committee members warn Berlinguer about the threat posed by neo-Fascist groups who will use every means to break the alliances forged in defeating Fanfani. Dismissing calls from Moscow to bind more tightly to the Eastern Bloc, Berlinguer goes into the election in June 1975 on a ticket to represent the people not bolster ideologies. We see him at home with his four children and on the stump, where he has the common touch and a ready understanding of the hardships facing people in daily life. The results are unprecedentedly positive and, following a family holiday on his native Sardinia, Berlinguer informs crowds at a huge Communist festival in Florence in September that capitalism is facing an existential crisis that the left must be ready to exploit to bring about true equality in Italian society.

In February 1976, Berlinguer goes to Moscow to meet with Leonid Brezhnev (Nikolay Danchev), who makes it clear that he disliked the brand of `Eurocommunism' being practiced in Italy, Spain, and France and reminds him of the need to stay united during the Cold War. But, with an election coming up, Berlinguer believes maintaining s distance gives him room to manoeuvre and negates neo-Fascist and Christian Democrat claims that the PCI is externally controlled. A bombing in Genoa seemingly arranged by the Red Brigades with the Czechoslovakian Secret Service becomes an issue during election debates and puts Berlinguer on the defensive. But he speaks with passion at rallies about Italy doing things its own way to ensure the best for all.

Such is the support for Berlinguer on 21 June 1976 (with 34.4% of the vote) that he is summoned by Christian Democrat Giulio Andreotti (Paolo Pierobon) to take an advisory post in a government partnership that would give the PCI a say in the shaping of policy and a consultancy role in official affairs. Luciano Barca (Andrea Pennacchi) becomes the chair of the Chamber of Deputies, where Berlinguer speaks of the need to make the experiment work.

There are street protests, as the PCI appears to have no say in Andreotti's new economic policies, which adversely impact the workers. Even children Bianca (Alice Airoldi) and Marco (Neri Mazzeo) argue with their father at the dinner table. He seeks a meeting with Moro to try and persuade him to use his influence on Andreotti, but he has to be careful how he treads. As demonstrations continue, as the public grows more frustrated by the ongoing Years of Lead. Berlinguer meets Moro on 5 January 1978, with a view to having a greater say in the conduct of affairs. Moro is complimentary on the way the PCI has changed its image and wishes the Christian Democrats could be similarly attuned. But he urges caution, as Andreotti and his cohorts are stubborn.

When the government falls and the PCI is blamed, Berlinguer is amused by the fact that he found a banknote he had hidden in his bookcase in a tome on the accumulation of capital by Rosa Luxemburg. But his good mood doesn't last, as Moro fails to coax Andreotti into forming a government of national unity and he is kidnapped on 16 March by the Red Brigades. Handwritten notes request negotiations for his release, but the government refuses to deal with terrorists and Berlinguer tells his family that he would not want that rule broken if anything was to happen to him.

Shortly afterwards, Moro's body is found in the boot of a car and Berlinguer is crushed, not only as Moro had been a decent man, but also because he knows Andreotti will make the coalition unworkable and that everything he had been working for will be for nought. Sailing alone off the coast of Sardinia, he writes to his wife on their anniversary to apologise for all the times that never happened because of his work. Captions explain how he sustained the Communist vote, as Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan changed the nature of Western politics and, along with the election of a Polish pope, hastened the end of the Soviet bloc. But Berlinguer didn't live to see this, as he died on 11 June 1984, four days after collapsing while giving a speech in Padua. More than 1.5 million attended his funeral at St John Lateran in Rome, but the PCI never recovered from his loss - even though those on the modern left and right of Italian politics claim him as an inspiration because of his commitment, fervour, honesty, and compassion.

Several films come to mind while watching Andrea Segre's first dramatic outing. Respectively starring Gian Maria Volonté and Roberto Herlitzka, Giuseppe Ferrara's The Moro Affair (1986) and Marco Bellocchio's Good Morning, Night (2003) provided potent insight into Aldo Moro's ordeal, while Toni Servillo brought a lugubrious pantomimic menace to Giulio Andreotti in Paolo Sorrentino's Il Divo (2008). Yet it's Giuseppe Bertolucci's comedy, Berlinguer, I Love You (1977) that strikes the loudest chord, as this story of a luckless left-leaning worker (Roberto Benigni) living with his mother (Alida Valli) is perhaps more immediately instructive about the national mindset during Enrico Berlinguer's bid to recast Italian social and political life in the 1970s.

He is played with dignity and conviction by Elio Germano, who poignantly conveys the personal sacrifice that Berlinguer made in devoting so much time to his mission. The courage with which he defies the Kremlin comes across, but more might have been made of the suspicion with which he was viewed in the West, where Italy was threatened with NATO sanctions if the Communists got too close to power. In the screenplay co-written by Segre and Marco Pettenello, Berlinguer sometimes seems as naive as he is trusting and it might have been interesting to learn whether the PCI's appeal was rooted more in Party policy or the leader's personality.

Segre and Pettenello can't be faulted for their research, as they have drawn on biographies, PCI records, and interviews with Berlinguer's colleagues and children. By presupposing knowledge of the period and its major players, however, the pair fail to establish the structure and nature of the PCI hierarchy so that those unfamiliar with Berlinguer's career could judge who were his allies and who harboured doubts. Labelling figures mid-scene doesn't really help those unfamiliar with the names (which will be true for many younger Italian viewers, as well as outsiders), especially when they only appear in single scenes. Yet, by utilising archive footage, Segre (who is best known for his documentary work) and editor Jacopo Quadri capture the look and feel of the period, while Benoît Dervaux keeps the camera on Germano's face as he's delivering extracts from Berlinguer's speeches in order to reinforce the intensity and integrity of his words. As a consequence, they sink in and will leave viewers with much to ponder.

MAKT IT TO MUNICH.

Having profiled teenage Scottish surfer Ben Lang in Ride the Wave (2022), documentarist Martyn Robertson turns to a remarkable fellow countryman, whose super-human powers of recovery and irrepressible refusal to quit makes Make It to Munich a humbling and inspiring experience.

Just nine months after suffering horrific injuries after being stuck by a vehicle while on a football scholarship in New York State, 18 year-old Ethan Walker is entrusted by John McGinn with the pennant that the Scottish national team will present to the German hosts before the opening game of the 2024 European Championships. Parents Jaclyn and Paul and siste Sienna have played their part in an odds-defying recovery and have faith in sports surgeon Gordon Mackay (himself a former Rangers player) and cyclist Stephen Collie to help Ethan negotiate the 12,000km, 13-day ride from Hampden Park to the Allianz Arena.

They get off to a bumpy ride, with Ethan getting a puncture and taking an off-camera tumble when the recommended cycle route proves a little treacherous. But Stephen tends to his cycling needs, while driver Rick and a support team are there when needed. Gordon also keeps a close eye on the youth he had first seen in December 2023 looking emaciated and struggling to swallow and speak as the result of traumas. However, he rebuilt the right knee using his patented InternalBrace and supervised the physiotherapy that has Ethan hopeful that he will still have an active future.

Disembarking in the Netherlands from the North Shields ferry, the cyclists meet a bargee named Robert the Bruce and fall a bit behind schedule, as they get used to cycling on the wrong side of the road and Ethan has to cope with a slight swelling on his knee. However, journalist Tom English is on hand to sing Ethan's praises and emphasise how phenomenal his participation is so soon after having two brain bleeds and suffering extensive damage to a lung, a shoulder, and a hand.

Surviving a downpour, they're late to their lodgings and Ethan needs his knee massaging. But they're on track and set off for a day on hilly terrain with enthusiasm. Gordon notes how Ethan's speech slurs when tiredness sets in and he takes another tumble after they pick their way along a cycle path that's been flooded by the Rhine. He also finds it a bit difficult doing phone interviews for Scottish radio stations, as he prefers the quiet life to being a celebrity. But the miles get ticked off and they are in good shape with six days to go to the Euros kick-off. They even have time to pause and admire the view from a field of poppies, while Gordon has an emotional moment, as he feels both the strain of the cycle and the responsibility of getting Ethan through in one piece - knowing there are no promises when it comes to him getting to play for Huntly again.

With four days to go, the team hits 1000km at the same time that they learn that Ethan has won a competition to be called Scotland's biggest fan and his prize is two tickets for the Germany game. Modest as ever, he shrugs it off and claims it feels like a charity decision and Gordon has to remind him of what he has overcome to get here. But he also advises him not to return to football, as it would be folly to risk a head injury and this comes as a big blow, even though he pushed for a definitive recommendation, as they cycled along. He takes it well and Gordon notices at the end of 13-hour day that his speech is clearer at night than it has been for the whole trip.

Having kicked a ball for the first time since the accident, Ethan rides into Munich in a kilt with a tam o' shanter and red wig under his helmet. Having incredible stamina throughout (riding for much of the time in the same gear), he's greeted by his dad at the British Consulate, where the press is waiting and he confirms he's going to move into coaching. At the Scottish team hotel, he hands the pennant to captain Andy Robertson and is commended for his efforts, as Gordon notes that the end of this journey is the start of an even bigger one for Ethan.

Of course, Scotland lost the match 1-5. But we get to see Robbo hand the pennant to Ilkay Gündoğan at the end of a 1350km trip. A nice touch sees Sir Alex Ferguson in a coda encourage Ethan to get his coaching badges and a closing caption reveals that he has the first one in the bag. One can only wish him well and hope that he gets to write his own lyrics to the 1982 World Cup song, `We Have a Dream'.

The journey structure is very convenient for a documentary of this kind and Robertson has used it before on Marty Goes to Hollywood (2015), which he co-directed with Ian Bustard. This showed how, against all the odds, Scottish actor Martin Docherty got to attend the premiere of Tom Tykwer's big-screen adaptation of David Mitchell's bestseller, Cloud Atlas (2012), in which he had played Tom Hanks's brother. The scale of Ethan Walker's recovery makes this a more heartening narrative, although a lack of incident en route deprives the odyssey of any suspense.

The odd animated map enlivens proceedings, but it's the rapport between Ethan and Gordon Mackay that makes this so poignantly genial. Kudos to the pair's fellow riders (including the director himself, who fits his companion with GoPro rigs to provide some handlebar perspectives) and the support team that was comprised of Debs Macrae, Iain Anderson, Peter Margetis, Peter Macrae, Neil Henderson, and Richard Milburn. The latter provide editor Elizabeth Clutterbuck with some amusing cutaways, as they struggle with directions and debate the merit of buying a Dundee-like cake or some enormous muffins when the homemade gingerbread runs out.

Scott Twynholm contributes a jaunty score that resists overdoing the Celtic refrains, as the party makes its way through the largely unremarkable landscapes. But this is less a travelogue than a tribute and it deservedly takes its place in the pantheon of Scottish cycling films alongside Douglas Mackinnon's Graeme Obree biopic, The Flying Scotsman (2006), and Finlay Pretsell's David Millar documentary, Time Trial (2017).