U.K.-French sales, distribution and production company Alief has dealt Gonzalo Calzada’s award-winning Argentine thriller double bill “Nocturna” in France and Belgium to horror-centric streaming platform Freaks On.
Freaks On plans to release the film early next year, day-and-date on its platform, in select theaters and in physical media.
As envisioned by Argentine writer-director Gonzalo Calzada, “Nocturna: Side A…” turns on a nearly 100-year-old man who struggles to atone for the transgressions he has committed in his life. In “Nocturna: Side B…,” Calzada explores an experimental version of the same story.
“’Nocturna’ is inspired by my grandparents and the type of relationship they had with each other,” Calzada explained to Variety at last year’s Ventana Sur. “It’s also about the meaning of aging in a society that is imperceptive about seeing this reality. It shows the self-confidence of the twilight years as a unique possibility of...
Freaks On plans to release the film early next year, day-and-date on its platform, in select theaters and in physical media.
As envisioned by Argentine writer-director Gonzalo Calzada, “Nocturna: Side A…” turns on a nearly 100-year-old man who struggles to atone for the transgressions he has committed in his life. In “Nocturna: Side B…,” Calzada explores an experimental version of the same story.
“’Nocturna’ is inspired by my grandparents and the type of relationship they had with each other,” Calzada explained to Variety at last year’s Ventana Sur. “It’s also about the meaning of aging in a society that is imperceptive about seeing this reality. It shows the self-confidence of the twilight years as a unique possibility of...
- 11/29/2021
- by Jamie Lang
- Variety Film + TV
Argentine writer-director Paula Hernández likes to explore what happens when characters from different worlds are thrown together. In her latest, “The Sleepwalkers,” which world-premiered in Toronto’s Platform competition before moving on to San Sebastian, the focus is on a discontented mother and her sullen, newly pubescent teen daughter, as they spend a New Year’s holiday in close quarters with three generations of extended family from the patriarchal side. , this intense family drama should see extensive festival play.
Although his wife Luisa and 14-year-old daughter Ana (striking beautiful Ornella D’elía) would prefer something different, the domineering Emilio (Luis Ziembrowski), insists on returning to his upper middle-class family’s rural manse. Surrounded by forests and streams, it’s home to his imperious widowed mother Memé (Marilu Marini), who is also hosting his brother Sergio (Daniel Hendler) and sister Inés (Valeria Lois), along with their respective broods.
When Sergio’s eldest son,...
Although his wife Luisa and 14-year-old daughter Ana (striking beautiful Ornella D’elía) would prefer something different, the domineering Emilio (Luis Ziembrowski), insists on returning to his upper middle-class family’s rural manse. Surrounded by forests and streams, it’s home to his imperious widowed mother Memé (Marilu Marini), who is also hosting his brother Sergio (Daniel Hendler) and sister Inés (Valeria Lois), along with their respective broods.
When Sergio’s eldest son,...
- 9/19/2019
- by Alissa Simon
- Variety Film + TV
Mascaret Films/Cine Valse
In her eloquent first fiction film, documaker Marceline Loridan-Ivens, a Holocaust survivor who lost 40 members of her family, including her father, in Nazi concentration camps, addresses the ineffable horror of her World War II experience.
Set entirely in the present day, "A Birch Tree Meadow", whose title is the translation of the word "Birkenau", is less an event-driven drama than a meditation. There are no significant plot points in its protagonist's confrontation with the invisible, but the past plays out upon the handsome face of Anouk Aimee with a dramatic force all its own. The French-German-Polish co-production is the first film made on the premises of Birkenau and an important addition to literature of the Shoah.
Aimee plays Myriam, who after years in New York travels to her native France for a reunion of Holocaust survivors. Even as she reconnects with dear friends (Marilu Marini, Claire Maurier) over drinks or penetrating discussions of their memories, it's evident that Myriam is preoccupied with separate plans. She embarks on a solo trip to Poland, and, rather than enter the camp-turned-museum complex of Auschwitz-Birkenau as a tourist, she squeezes through a back gate. Thus begin days of immersion in the place that was the teenage Myriam's impossible home.
When a young German photographer visiting the camp (August Diehl) becomes inquisitive, Myriam is aloof, deeming trivial his attempt to document traces of the unspeakable. In a sense, though, she's doing the same, and eventually her compassion wins out. Notwithstanding the symbolism of their cat-and-mouse chase -- guilt-ridden contemporary Germany facing evidence of past crimes -- there's human warmth and power to their connection.
Although she has encounters with several other people during her trip, the real subject of the film is Myriam's silent, troubled communion with the charged emptiness of the place. She spends a night in the bunk that was hers a half-century earlier, and the camera follows her past rows of squat brick structures and along overgrown train tracks that once transported human cargo. One of the most haunting moments in the film is Myriam's discovery of rusted music stands amid the weeds. Through it all, Loridan-Ivens never resorts to flashback, instead letting memory resonate in long, slow takes, as though literal re-creation would be an inadequate reduction of the truth.
In her eloquent first fiction film, documaker Marceline Loridan-Ivens, a Holocaust survivor who lost 40 members of her family, including her father, in Nazi concentration camps, addresses the ineffable horror of her World War II experience.
Set entirely in the present day, "A Birch Tree Meadow", whose title is the translation of the word "Birkenau", is less an event-driven drama than a meditation. There are no significant plot points in its protagonist's confrontation with the invisible, but the past plays out upon the handsome face of Anouk Aimee with a dramatic force all its own. The French-German-Polish co-production is the first film made on the premises of Birkenau and an important addition to literature of the Shoah.
Aimee plays Myriam, who after years in New York travels to her native France for a reunion of Holocaust survivors. Even as she reconnects with dear friends (Marilu Marini, Claire Maurier) over drinks or penetrating discussions of their memories, it's evident that Myriam is preoccupied with separate plans. She embarks on a solo trip to Poland, and, rather than enter the camp-turned-museum complex of Auschwitz-Birkenau as a tourist, she squeezes through a back gate. Thus begin days of immersion in the place that was the teenage Myriam's impossible home.
When a young German photographer visiting the camp (August Diehl) becomes inquisitive, Myriam is aloof, deeming trivial his attempt to document traces of the unspeakable. In a sense, though, she's doing the same, and eventually her compassion wins out. Notwithstanding the symbolism of their cat-and-mouse chase -- guilt-ridden contemporary Germany facing evidence of past crimes -- there's human warmth and power to their connection.
Although she has encounters with several other people during her trip, the real subject of the film is Myriam's silent, troubled communion with the charged emptiness of the place. She spends a night in the bunk that was hers a half-century earlier, and the camera follows her past rows of squat brick structures and along overgrown train tracks that once transported human cargo. One of the most haunting moments in the film is Myriam's discovery of rusted music stands amid the weeds. Through it all, Loridan-Ivens never resorts to flashback, instead letting memory resonate in long, slow takes, as though literal re-creation would be an inadequate reduction of the truth.
Mascaret Films/Cine Valse
In her eloquent first fiction film, documaker Marceline Loridan-Ivens, a Holocaust survivor who lost 40 members of her family, including her father, in Nazi concentration camps, addresses the ineffable horror of her World War II experience.
Set entirely in the present day, "A Birch Tree Meadow", whose title is the translation of the word "Birkenau", is less an event-driven drama than a meditation. There are no significant plot points in its protagonist's confrontation with the invisible, but the past plays out upon the handsome face of Anouk Aimee with a dramatic force all its own. The French-German-Polish co-production is the first film made on the premises of Birkenau and an important addition to literature of the Shoah.
Aimee plays Myriam, who after years in New York travels to her native France for a reunion of Holocaust survivors. Even as she reconnects with dear friends (Marilu Marini, Claire Maurier) over drinks or penetrating discussions of their memories, it's evident that Myriam is preoccupied with separate plans. She embarks on a solo trip to Poland, and, rather than enter the camp-turned-museum complex of Auschwitz-Birkenau as a tourist, she squeezes through a back gate. Thus begin days of immersion in the place that was the teenage Myriam's impossible home.
When a young German photographer visiting the camp (August Diehl) becomes inquisitive, Myriam is aloof, deeming trivial his attempt to document traces of the unspeakable. In a sense, though, she's doing the same, and eventually her compassion wins out. Notwithstanding the symbolism of their cat-and-mouse chase -- guilt-ridden contemporary Germany facing evidence of past crimes -- there's human warmth and power to their connection.
Although she has encounters with several other people during her trip, the real subject of the film is Myriam's silent, troubled communion with the charged emptiness of the place. She spends a night in the bunk that was hers a half-century earlier, and the camera follows her past rows of squat brick structures and along overgrown train tracks that once transported human cargo. One of the most haunting moments in the film is Myriam's discovery of rusted music stands amid the weeds. Through it all, Loridan-Ivens never resorts to flashback, instead letting memory resonate in long, slow takes, as though literal re-creation would be an inadequate reduction of the truth.
In her eloquent first fiction film, documaker Marceline Loridan-Ivens, a Holocaust survivor who lost 40 members of her family, including her father, in Nazi concentration camps, addresses the ineffable horror of her World War II experience.
Set entirely in the present day, "A Birch Tree Meadow", whose title is the translation of the word "Birkenau", is less an event-driven drama than a meditation. There are no significant plot points in its protagonist's confrontation with the invisible, but the past plays out upon the handsome face of Anouk Aimee with a dramatic force all its own. The French-German-Polish co-production is the first film made on the premises of Birkenau and an important addition to literature of the Shoah.
Aimee plays Myriam, who after years in New York travels to her native France for a reunion of Holocaust survivors. Even as she reconnects with dear friends (Marilu Marini, Claire Maurier) over drinks or penetrating discussions of their memories, it's evident that Myriam is preoccupied with separate plans. She embarks on a solo trip to Poland, and, rather than enter the camp-turned-museum complex of Auschwitz-Birkenau as a tourist, she squeezes through a back gate. Thus begin days of immersion in the place that was the teenage Myriam's impossible home.
When a young German photographer visiting the camp (August Diehl) becomes inquisitive, Myriam is aloof, deeming trivial his attempt to document traces of the unspeakable. In a sense, though, she's doing the same, and eventually her compassion wins out. Notwithstanding the symbolism of their cat-and-mouse chase -- guilt-ridden contemporary Germany facing evidence of past crimes -- there's human warmth and power to their connection.
Although she has encounters with several other people during her trip, the real subject of the film is Myriam's silent, troubled communion with the charged emptiness of the place. She spends a night in the bunk that was hers a half-century earlier, and the camera follows her past rows of squat brick structures and along overgrown train tracks that once transported human cargo. One of the most haunting moments in the film is Myriam's discovery of rusted music stands amid the weeds. Through it all, Loridan-Ivens never resorts to flashback, instead letting memory resonate in long, slow takes, as though literal re-creation would be an inadequate reduction of the truth.
- 4/13/2004
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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