PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
by
Chris Dashiell
Spirituality and money; the way of the pilgrim and the
path of maximum profit. These two contrary world views run smack against
each other in Israeli director Ra'anan Alexandrowicz's sweet, satirical
fable, James' Journey to Jerusalem.
A young African Christian (Siyabonga Melongisi Shibe) is sent by his village on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, as a preparation for his future life as a minister. James's heart is full of dreams about the Holy Land . But when he gets to Israel , he ends up in a holding pen for immigrants, only to be freed by a contractor (Salim Daw) who takes his passport and sets him to work cleaning houses along with other Africans trying to make their way in a new country. James protests that he only wants to go to Jerusalem, but he's stuck working for his new boss until he can repay the cost of his bail. Honest and industrious, 
he is given the job of helping clean up the house of the boss's cranky father (Arie Elias), turning his back yard into a miniature Eden, while the old man, who takes a liking to the genial African, has him employ his uncanny luck at dice to win bets in backgammon.
Before long, James finds himself lured by the world of money and consumerism,
and delaying the longed-for pilgrimage. The film, which at first seems
like a gritty, working class drama, has ambitions that are more interesting.
Through the eyes of this modern-day Candide, we are shown the modern
delegation of 
spiritual
ideals to the status of window dressing for a culture of self-seeking.
On this subject, comedy -- albeit tinged with darkness -- hits the mark
more effectively than tragedy. Rarely has a film explored socioeconomic
questions -- the imbalance between employer and worker, the marriage
of exploitation and affluence, money as fuel for self-respect -- with
such a light touch.
Alexandrowicz balances a warm, humorous tone with a sharp eye for social detail. The film avoids grandstanding, letting us simply observe the contradiction between seeking God and learning how to make money off other people, a dilemma that reflects not only on Israeli society, but on conditions we all deal with in one way or another. The picture is blessed with an utterly charming performance by Shibe, who plays James with an engaging blend of emotional strength and wide-eyed innocence.
Wherever James turns, he is told not to be a frayer, which
is a Hebrew word for "chump" or "sucker." Gradually,
as he takes advantage of the opportunities offered by a culture based
on profit rather than community, James learns how not to be a frayer.
But how does such a transformation 
affect
his spiritual condition? This film has the wit and the courage to answer
that question in a way that fully engages the mind and heart. James'
Journey to Jerusalem is one of those rare comedies that
is sad, funny, and wise all at once.
The age-old theme of fathers and sons -- their
desire to connect, the hidden tension between them, authority and rebellion
– forms the substance of a new Russian film called The Return,
a debut effort from director Andrey Zvyaginstev that succeeds in visualizing
charged feelings deeper than words.
Two
boys, fourteen-year-old Andrei (Vladimir Garin) and twelve-year-old
Vanya (Ivan Dobranravov), live with their mother and grandmother in
a small town that has seen better days. Suddenly, their father (Konstantin
Lavronenko), who abandoned them when they were little, returns home.
Gruff and enigmatic, the man immediately assumes a role of traditional
authority, although the mother seems hardly overjoyed that he's back,
and the boys don't know how to respond to the arrival of this virtual
stranger.
The man takes his sons on a trip into the countryside, a journey that becomes the film's main story. After going fishing on a lake, the father extends the journey by taking them to an isolated island, for a purpose that he won't explain. Is he trying to bond with them? Perform some sort of initiation? The older boy is more accommodating, but Vanya acts out his distrust and resentment against this man who abandoned him and now expects obedience. The struggle between the boy and his father begins to take on a mythic quality, with a greater potential for trouble than either of them expects.
The
picture uses a gray and dark blue color scheme, quietly eerie music,
and expert use of long shot to depict emotions that are struggling to
reach the surface. The performances are strong, especially by Dobranravov,
who portrays Vanya's anger and stubborn insistence on autonomy with
moving intensity. Zvyaginstev invests the story of this family with
a dark, primal energy, which takes on a haunting spiritual significance
as the story goes on.
Instead of explaining the conflicts through dialogue, he wisely gives the interactions between father and sons an almost mute, inchoate quality. The story's archetypal elements are powerfully conveyed without diminishing 
the film's realism one bit. We never understand the father completely, and that ambiguity is part of the film's point. The Return is a moody, and thoughtful film, evoking the wounds of childhood that still linger within us.
©2004 Chris Dashiell
CineScene
