What to look at 2morrow: "Frutville Station"

Today, October 1, the 2MorROW film festival starts at the Moscow Central House of Sciences. Every day of the festival on colta.ru will appear a text about the best, according to the subjective opinion of the editorial office, the film of tomorrow (or today's) 2Morrow program.

Auckland, December 31, 2009, noon. The late legend of the local rap Mac Dre is filled from the radio of the credit sedan. Under the driver's seat - a package of herbs for sale. Mom asked to buy crabs - she has a birthday today. We also need to talk to the supermarket manager. Maybe he will take it back to work - very soon pay for the apartment. Oscar Grant (Michael B. Jordan, an actor with his eyes and the charm of a deer Bambi) stops to season the tank, and then Pitbul is knocked down in his eyes to death.

Oscar and the suicide bomber himself and the viewer know this. The Frutwille station is opened by the documentary personnel of the murder of Grant as an officer of the railway police on the phone in the morning of January 1. Crushed by a knee in the back, an immobilized dark -skinned guy gets a bullet into the back of the head. Ryana Kugler's debut (fellow countryman Grant, who grew up in the same Auckland) retells, thus, the last day from Oscar’s life, moving from the documentary recording of his death to her final reproduction by the already actors. Simply put, the “Frutwille Station” is the Calvary of the doomed (in the eyes of the audience) of the hero.

The expectation of a terrible finale nevertheless does not make the shocking effect that this finale produces. A considerable part of the reviews on Frutville boils down to describing the sobbing of the neighbors around the hall, others accuse Kugler of manipulations with the feelings of the audience and cheap agitation. It seems, however, that the differences between these two radical opposite reactions to the film are reduced only to the readiness of the director's sentimentalist techniques. Cougler actually manipulates the techniques of without failure, and therefore often forbidden: his under-the-hazel-heroe loves the curl-daughter, regrets the dog being knocked out in his eyes, at some point in the attack of feelings pours the shmal into the ocean, voluntarily depriving himself of earnings.

The genuine power of Frutviel lies, however, not at all in the ability to pierce the viewer - otherwise he would really be only an agitation against police arbitrariness. By a strange coincidence, the film was released in the days of the trial of the killer of another dark-skinned young man-the 17-year-old Trevon Martin from Florida. Martina, who was returning home in the night, pulling the hood of the Black Hud on his head, shot the district combatant: from afar, the kid was like a typical bandit from hip-hop clip. The death of Oscar Grant is the result of the same work of consciousness: a couple of cops accepted the brawl of old unkind -acquaintances in the train car for a full disassembly. The heartbreaking effect that this error produces (at the trial of a grant killer stated that he shot a pistol, thinking that he was holding an emergency room - and received two years), causes not a melodramaticism of what was happening, but a shock from the clash of the hero with a narrative model, into which he consistently refuses to fit through the entire film. Oscars Grant, as he appears in the Kugler’s film, determines the refusal to follow the generations of spent life scenarios - albeit expressed in a pathetic gesture with shmali. The kid did not go to success, but still did not fade. It is tempting to add: “This is sad” (and the final of the “Frutville Stations” is very, very sad).

The genuine talent of the Cougler is revealed, however, after the grant receives a bullet in the head for the second time in the frame for the second time. Instead of at that moment the highest tension of feelings to break, the film goes into a gloomy code: the camera holds a couple of dozen relatives and friends of Grant, in different frets who lament in sick leave. The choir enters - but considering that the same emotions, from the righteous indignation to the shock of the absurdity of what is happening, is also experiencing the viewer, it turns out that the cogler simply unfolds the camera into the hall. Private tragedy, the worst viral video in the world (it is not known how loud this story would be if one of the passengers had not taken what happened on the phone), it becomes universal, an injury from the clash of Oscar Grant, not with a fate, not with a ruthless fat, but with the perception of life of a ready-made plot model-a public injury. The injury that has yet to be worried is - what the story of Travon Martin proves. And the confusion in the eyes of the real daughter of Oscar, who appears in the very last shots with a demonstration in his memory, also says that the martyrdom, whose character was her father after death, is the same dangerous trap as the stereotype that every noisy dark -skinned guy in a hood is a criminal.