A Jim Jarmusch movie is rare and mysterious. Today in Cannes his latest film “Only Lovers Left Alive” starring Tilda Swinton, Tom Hiddleston, Mia Wasikowska and Anton Yelchin was shown as a part of the competition program.

“Lovers” is your average love story between centuries-old people (Swinton and Hiddleston). One lives in Detroit and the other, Tangier.

Adam is depressed because he’s disappointed in mankind, which he calls zombies, and he summons Eve back to Detroit. Not sure why these two were living in separate homes in the first place—lighter tax liabilities, probably.

Jarmusch threw in some great music to help punctuate the story (which is rather on the thin side, but then meaty narratives never have characterized his films).

John Hurt plays a bruised fruit of a vampire who wears a chemise from several centuries ago (and who can blame him? They don’t make them like that anymore) and offers advice and comfort to his quote-unquote younger peers.

Adam and Eve’s indolent, nighttime existence is disturbed after Ava (Wasikowska), a blood-thirsty teenaged Cindy Lauper-type, shows on up to wreak soft havoc upon their lives.

“Only Lovers Left Alive” is lethargic and too carefree, to be sure, and is paced very similarly to “The Limits of Control.” But the originality of the casting choices and some great second-degree humor help make this a fun festival discovery.

(And yet, still holding out hope that Jarmusch will partner up with people like Bill Murray, GZA, RZA and Benigni and get loopy all over again).

The Cinéfondation and Short Films Jury headed by Jane Campion and including Maji-da Abdi, Nicoletta Braschi, Nandita Das and Semih Kaplanoglu awarded the Cinéfondation Prizes during a ceremony held today, followed by the screening of the winning films.

The Cinéfondation Selection consisted of 18 student films, chosen out of nearly 1, 500 entries submitted by 277 film schools around the world.

“The Jury were unanimous in their choice for the awarded films and want to congratulate the filmmakers for the excellence and maturity of their cinematic voices.”

“The Jury were unanimous in their choice for the awarded films and want to congratulate the filmmakers for the excellence and maturity of their cinematic voices.”

First Prize:
NEEDLE directed by Anahita Ghazvinizadeh
The School of the Art Institute of Chicago

Second Prize:
WAITING FOR THE THAW (En attendant le dégel) directed by Sarah Hirtt
INSAS, Belgium

Third Prize ex-aequo:
ÎN ACVARIU (In the Fishbowl) directed by Tudor Cristian JURGIU
UNATC, Romania

Joint Third Prize:
PANDY (Pandas) directed by Matúš VIZÁR
FAMU, Czech Republic

The awarded films will receive €15,000 for the First Prize, €11,250 for the Second and €7,500 for the Third.

The First Prize winner is also guaranteed that his first feature film will be presented at the Festival de Cannes.

In the sixteenth century in the Cevennes region of France a horse dealer by the name of Michael Kohlhaas leads a decent family life. When a lord treats him unjustly, he launches a war against him.

If the opening score of “Michael Kolhaas” makes this competition film sound like “Conan the Barbarian,” you’ve been misled. This action drama set in the Middle Ages is a demanding and intellectual work (more cerebral than entertaining) on the austere themes of order and morality. Michael Kohlhaas—performed by a more-iconic-than-ever Mads Mikkelsen—is not one to be done in by an operetta baron. So, when he is arbitrarily required to leave two of his horses as a deposit payment for crossing a bridge, only to recover them later in a sorry state and discover that his servant has been attacked by dogs, he embarks on a mad crusade against the sham justice (or rather injustice ) wielded by the powers-that-be.

There are significant themes at play here, like the need for revolution and martyrdom by those who dare stand up against the established order. In using a deliberately spectactular-less directing style, director Arnaud Des Pallières makes this Middle Ages of arrows and crossbows credible. It’s unfortunate, however, that the film sorely lacks in emotion, the director apparently preferring Protestant objectivity to Catholic fervor.

ALL OUR CANNES FESTIVAL ARTICLES

“Manuscripts don’t burn,” Mohammad Rasoulof

“Nebraska,” Alexander Payne

“Blue is the warmest color,” by Abdelatif Kechiche

“Only God Forgives,” by Nicolas Winding Refn

“A Villa in Italy,” by Valeria Bruni-Tedeschi

“Blood Ties,” by Guillaume Canet

“Inside Llewyn Davis,” “Grand Central” and “Blue Ruin”

“The Past,” Asghar Farhadi

“Young and beautiful,” Francois Ozon

“The Great Gatsby,” Baz Luhrmann

With his new film “Manuscripts don’t Burn” (the title seems to have been taken from Mikhail Bulgakov’s novel “The Master and Margarita”) currently being shown in the non-competition program Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof, who came to Cannes to show the film today along with the cast, is raising the bar for Iranian filmmakers: rather than bypassing political content he’s confronting Iran’s regime without concessions, putting their intimidation tactics to the fore and confronting us with the naked reality of a shambolic state. His film’s depiction of a small group of intellectuals trying to keep Iran’s secret services from prying the written account of their assassination attempt by the country’s secret services from their hands is brave and makes for weighty narrative.

Rasoulof, whose previous film “Bé omid é didar” (“Goodbye” in Farsi) also had a strong political overtones, was arrested in March 2010 along with Jafar Panahi and Mehdi Pourmoussa at Panahi’s home. Also detained with them were fifteen others, including Panahi’s wife, their daughter and Rasoulof’s cinematographer Ebrahim Ghafori, although they were released 48 hours later. Rasoulof was released from ward 209 of the Evin prison on 17 March 2010 on bail. Until today’s appearance here in Cannes Rasoulof had not been seen out and about since being jailed. He had been banned from making films and travelling outside Iran in December 2010.

The stakes in this new film are high, indeed, because the events recounted in the manuscript of the title are fully grounded in reality. In its constant quest to pressure so-called counter-revolutionary intellectuals into repenting, Iran’s government has been in a permanent cold war (or a cat-and-mouse game) with the intellectual elite, keeping files on people, knocking on doors, and placing wiretaps on telephone lines.

A few years ago, a number of these people went to a conference outside the capital and were on their way back in a charted bus. The bus’s driver had been tasked by Iran’s secret services to drive the vehicle into a ravine. Fortunately, he had a change of heart and the assassination attempt failed after the driver couldn’t go through with it. He simply veered off the road, slammed the breaks and ran outside, later claiming that he’d fallen asleep at the wheel. One of the writers on the bus, however, documented the event by writing about it. “Manuscripts” details the authorities’ patient and systematic search for all three copies of the highly-valuable and damning manuscript, torturing and asphyxiating their way through Tehran’s intelligentsia.

Adding a layer of complexity to this new film Rasoulof tells the story not only from the viewpoint of the persecuted writer and his colleagues but also from that of the persecutors, in the person of Khosrow (pictured in a still from the film, below), an unsympathetic but tortured trigger-man who drives bodies to abandoned homes for his boss Morteza, who comes along for the ride. Khosrow’s ten year-old boy suffers from a chronic disease and needs to be hospitalized urgently although a hoped-for wire transfer that will pay for the hospital stay is late arriving. He keeps taking calls from an increasingly upset wife who gives him updates on their son. I’m not sure whether this particular sub-plot was supposed to make Khosrow sympathetic to us or not. Added to this is the fact that when queried by his boss, Khosrow replied several times that he didn’t do this bidding for the money. Did that mean that he loved suffocating people?

“Manuscripts don’t burn” is living proof of the Iranian reality of censorship and intimidation, and goes further, via this medium, than any other form of communication. With his quiet indictment of thirty years of revolutionary ideals Rasoulof has put himself in harm’s way to make, and then bring, a film to the Cannes Festival, that for which he should be commanded and his film rewarded.

Alexander Payne’s new film “Nebraska,” a melancholy road movie shot in black and white with some hilarious moments, is a worthy contender for a Grand Prix or a Jury prize. And yet, to say that I was less than enthusiastic going to the 8:30 screening of this film is an understatement: I wasn’t a fan of “The Descendants” and a black and white movie, well, it’s a risky proposition for any film.

Woody is an old alcoholic who thinks he’s just won a million bucks just because he received a marketing letter in the mail telling him so–on the condition that he subscribe to a couple of magazines. Even though he’s clearly not a believer, Woody’s son David decides to play along and drives his father to Nebraska so he can claim his winnings. The two men go on a journey during which they will come across old friends and family members, long lost, all, but who are suddenly very interested in Woody because of their greed and envy.

During this morning’s talk with journalists Payne commented that, “I got the screenplay nine years ago. It’s a story that’s both funny and sad, a bit like life itself.”

Each encounter between father and son during the trip yields moments that are at times cruel, funny and touching. Payne is ruthless in revealing the foibles of human beings, their jealousy, greed, bad faith.

With this new film he brushes the most sublime portrait of a man in the twilight of his life.

Bruce Dern plays the taciturn old man who takes refuge in silence to spare himself from having to get involved in a life which bores him. Facing him in the role of the son who rediscovers his father, Will Forte imparts great resignation and emotion onto his character. Around them, Stacy Keach makes the acting an odious working stiff (one of Woody’s old business partners) seem like easy-peasy (by the way, keep your eyes peeled for a brief but notable karaoke performance by Keach), and June Squibb is hilarious as the loudmouthed and sharp-tongued mother.

Payne further revealed that, “the writer had really lived what happens in the story, so he’s describing his personal experience,” adding, “it’s a story from the Depression era, which is why I wanted to make it in black and white.”

Bryan Cranston auditioned for the role of Woody but Payne didn’t feel that he was right for the part. Matthew Modine, Paul Rudd, and Casey Affleck were also considered for the role of David.

Finally a discovery at the Cannes Festival that’s worth getting all worked up about: “Blue is the Warmest Color,” or, as the original title, “La Vie D’Adèle.” Three hour-long film is a bright gem and a contender for the top nod at this otherwise tepid Cannes selection. “Blue,” starring newcomer Adèle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux and directed by Abdellatif Kechiche, is my choice for this year’s Palme D’or, with five films still remaining to be screened in the competition section. But with Steven Spielberg as president of the jury, it’s difficult to see this win crystallize because of some pretty intense, albeit essential, intimate scenes. All we can hope for is that Ms. Exarchopoulos goes home with a clearly-deserved Best Actress prize.

In the course of three hours this chronologically-told story about the absoluteness of love, the passage of time and being emotionally solitary, might just rip your heart open. The intense love story which brings together Adele and Emma (Lea Seydoux) in their hometown of Lille, France, is served up with tenderness, simplicity and eagerness by French-Tunisian filmmaker Kechiche. Here’s a filmmaker–with whose work I had an intellectual falling out after hating his “Black Venus–who has made an incredibly lucid and audacious film which has, in the process, reconciled me with his work.

Adele (Exarchopoulos) is your average high-school kid who hangs out with her girlfriends and smokes cigarettes. On an afternoon someone she observes passing her by makes her dizzy and she freezes in the middle of a street crossing. Emma (Seydoux) is beautiful, youthful woman with blue eyes and even bluer hair. The denim jacket she wears strangely and her non-conformist air, however belie authority and experience.

These two girls are defined by their want to have vocations—Adele wants to teach kindergarten and Lea is an aspiring painter—and their differing social backgrounds. They are brought together by a sentiment that burns extraordinarily bright.

It is worth mentioning, again, that Adele Exarchopoulos’s performance is one of the best and most stirring ones I have seen in a while. She imbues her character with strength, courage and devotion, and what she feels after her separation from her girlfriend is exquisite and also very painful. Truly a tour-de-force on her part. “Blue is the warmest color” is the outstanding film out of this year’s program, thus far.

Nicolas Winding Refn’s intent for his new film, shown in competition this morning, is difficult to discern. Is “Only God Forgives” a send-off to his previous film “Bronson” with a (sustained) nod at David Lynch and liner notes from Eastern philosophies? It would be distasteful to call a film a styling exercise. Filmmakers get our admiration because they invest more into filmmaking than you or I can ever imagine. Moviemaking is a collective effort by people who accomplish a great many things and sacrifices to get a script to screen. And yet, it’s hard not to call this a kind of overwrought and satisfying experiment in styling rather than a fully accomplished film (at least in the sense that would be appropriate when referring to a filmmaker of the caliber of Winding Refn). So we’ll call it a genre film, of the revenge kind.

Having a lack of dialogue, such as is the case here, is alright–in some cases. This afternoon I watched one hundred minutes of Robert Redford being gone at sea in J.C. Chandor’s “All is lost” (and thankfully Redford did not start talking to any inanimate objects) and that was a fine movie regardless of that. But the lack of memorable or likeable characters in “God” significantly dwindles the possibilities of redemption.

Julian (played by Ryan Gosling) is an American fugitive from justice who runs a boxing club in Bangkok as a front for his drug business. His mother (Kristin Scott Thomas) arrives from the U.S. to collect the body of her elder son Billy, who’s just been killed after savagely murdering a teenaged prostitute. Add to this a good dose of gore and violence (most of which is very dramatic and very choreographed), a tenacious police officer who seems to be everywhere and some of the most overstated oedipal complex issues between mother and son I’ve ever seen on screen, and you get “Only God Forgives.”

In preparing for “Only God Forgives” Nicolas Winding Refn spent some time living in Bangkok with his family in order to immerse himself in the eastern way of life and philosophy. For the film’s design concept he seems to draw influence from Wong Kar Wai, David Lynch and Gaspar Noé (not a bad thing at all, in this writer’s opinion). Winding Refn collaborating with “Bronson” DP Larry Smith on this new project is what shines through the most, however: “God” is all bright neon and erotic reds; it also happens mostly at night. Refn said that he wanted to shoot at night as much as possible to give the film what he calls its “alien planet look.”

The one thing I enjoyed about “God” was its soundtrack, composed by Cliff Martinez (not his first collaboration with Winding Refn). Has Martinez always sounded like Angelo Badalamenti? Not sure, but you’ll understand my drawing parallels with Lynch, although this film resembles the latter also in direction, not just in terms of music. And it was also a strange pleasure to discover Kristin Scott Thomas as a criminal empire don-dada, in a performance reminiscent of a cross between Griselda Blanco and a pouty Madonna.

“Only God Forgives” is dedicated to French-Chilean filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowski.