This piece was the opening film in the Manhattan Short Film Festival. An interesting selection, I found this film to have a muddled plot in what should have been a straight forward story, or a poor execution of concept.
It opens with a series of repetitious recounts of the same story, told by a Muslim woman beaten by her husband, reframing on various people in the interrogation room. This is not done in Rasho-mon style. Nor is anything new revealed with each new framing (beyond allowing others to talk a little longer each take). It is done to illustrate the levels of communication that can break down in this scenario. But it is clear immediately that the interpreter is responsible for breaking down of communication.
This filmmaker wants to create a piece that demands an examination of justice, language barriers and social constructs, but it really only left me asking, "What is this interpreters problem?". It's quite clear that the director has leaned on Islamic extremist behavior. Constructed a situation of frustration, hoping to intrigue the viewer into deducing by their own reason for the interpreters actions. Or hoping these frustrations put the viewer in the Muslim victims perspective. It does neither. It's not clever. It touches on xenophobic. Not impressed.
The son offers a real sense of tension here, but he's underused, as if he is an afterthought. His strong words to him mother create the most interesting potential conflict, but the film immediately resolves to avoid having to actually have depth.
****note****
I understand and have a greater appreciation (after a second viewing) of what the film maker was presenting here.
It opens with a series of repetitious recounts of the same story, told by a Muslim woman beaten by her husband, reframing on various people in the interrogation room. This is not done in Rasho-mon style. Nor is anything new revealed with each new framing (beyond allowing others to talk a little longer each take). It is done to illustrate the levels of communication that can break down in this scenario. But it is clear immediately that the interpreter is responsible for breaking down of communication.
This filmmaker wants to create a piece that demands an examination of justice, language barriers and social constructs, but it really only left me asking, "What is this interpreters problem?". It's quite clear that the director has leaned on Islamic extremist behavior. Constructed a situation of frustration, hoping to intrigue the viewer into deducing by their own reason for the interpreters actions. Or hoping these frustrations put the viewer in the Muslim victims perspective. It does neither. It's not clever. It touches on xenophobic. Not impressed.
The son offers a real sense of tension here, but he's underused, as if he is an afterthought. His strong words to him mother create the most interesting potential conflict, but the film immediately resolves to avoid having to actually have depth.
****note****
I understand and have a greater appreciation (after a second viewing) of what the film maker was presenting here.
