Video review: "The Aftermath"

“The Aftermath” came and went without making much of an impact on critics or the box office, but for my money it’s one of the better films I’ve seen this year. It’s a tragic romance starring Keira Knightley, Jason Clarke and Alexander Skarsgård as damaged people caught in a love triangle in post-WWII Germany.

I use “caught” deliberately, because unlike most movies in this oeuvre, which tend to focus on lovers swept away by their passions, here it really feels like all three are in some way trapped. Love does not set them free, but is the instrument of their doom.

Sad films seem to have fallen out of favor these days; here’s a prime example underlining their worth.

As the story opens, Rachel Morgan (Knightley) is joining her husband at his new military posting in Hamburg, overseeing the rebuilding of the war-ravaged city. It’s their first meeting since the war began; Lewis (Clarke) did not even return home for the funeral of their son.

Their estrangement is fueled by the presence of Stephen Lupert (Skarsgård), an architect whose house has been given over to the British Army to be the Morgans’ living quarters. Life is squalid for most Germans, toiling at clearing the bomb-flattened terrain and scrimping for food, so Lewis offers to let Stephen and his teen daughter continue to live in the attic.

At first, Rachel and Stephen are antagonistic, reflecting the resentfulness of the Germans -- someone of whom openly pine for the return of the Nazi regime. Lewis is actually more sympathetic to their plight than most of his fellow officers. But his attitude changes as his wife grows closer to the man above.

The acting is uniformly terrific, especially Clarke. He’s been doing great leading-man work in small movies most people didn’t see, including this and “Chappaquiddick.” He gives rich shadings and depth to a character who could have come across as very distant and emotionally unavailable.

Bring a hanky, but give “The Aftermath” a try. Rarely has sad been so good.

Video extras aren’t abundant, but the features it does have are substantial. They include a feature-length commentary track by director James Kent; deleted scenes with more commentary; a “First Look” feature; and VFX progressions of how they depicted war-torn Hamburg, also with commentary.

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Review: "The Aftermath"

"The Aftermath" is one of those tragic period romances that's so sad and affecting, afterward you vow to never love again.

What's the opposite of a romantic comedy? This.

It's a marvelously acted film starring Keira Knightley, Jason Clarke and Alexander Skarsgård in a love triangle set in post-World War II Hamburg. Knightley is Rachel Morgan, the wife of a British colonel, Lewis (Clarke). Reuniting for the first time since the war began, they live in the mansion that used to belong to a local architect, Stephen Lubert (Skarsgård), but has been requisitioned by the military.

Much of the city has been reduced to rubble, so the newfound opulence in which they live stands in stark contrast to the starving hordes of Germans teeming in the streets.

Lewis is more sympathetic to the conquered Germans than his fellow officers, and allows Lubert and his teen daughter, Fred (Flora Thiemann), to stay in the attic rather than go to one of the squalid relocation camps. This makes for an awkward situation, as Lewis is gone all the time and Rachel bumps around the huge, modernist house while the actual residents shamble about in the background.

Freda is openly hostile, as are many of the German youth. Some even brand their arms with "88" to show their resistance -- a stand-in for the eighth letter of the alphabet, "HH." I think we all know what that means, and where it will lead.

Stephen is accommodating and gracious, though he's nursing a deeply buried resentment over his wife, who died in the Allied bombings of Hamburg. He's forced to work as a machine press operator instead of helping rebuild his country.

It turns out the Morgans have their own, unspoken tragedy: their 11-year-old son was killed in the German bombings of London. Astonishingly, we learn that Lewis never even came home for the funeral.

There's a telling moment at the beginning when Rachel is stepping off the train. She spies other couples reuniting and smiles at their open affection. This is contrasted with the stiff greeting and embrace from Lewis. They've forgotten how to be a couple.

There's a concerted effort to correct this situation, with some longing glances and canoodling. But circumstances intervene and Rachel finds herself drawn to the mournful German under her own roof.

The love scenes between Knightley and Skarsgård are quite steamy. They're both extremely beautiful people, Skarsgård with his long face and tired eyes, and Knightley with her always-open mouth and impossibly angular figure -- she's like a mannequin sprung to life.

It's astonishing to think that Knightley has just turned 34; it seems like she's been in the movies forever. Tonally, this film almost seems a reprise of "Atonement," which if you can believe it was 12 years ago. Though she still looks the ingenue, this is her first picture playing a woman of close-to-middling years. I'm genuinely curious as to where her career takes her next.

In the end, though, it's Clarke's performance that truly impressed me. It's hard to play a man who is stolid and reserved and project any kind of emotional resonance. Yet Clarke gives us the impression of a man who is trapped by duty in his head, but the feeling hasn't yet settled in his heart. His reaction when he learns of the affair will tear at the audience's heart.

Director James Kent comes from a television background, though I realize such distinctions are becoming increasingly blurry. The screenplay is by Joe Shrapnel, Anna Waterhouse and Rhidian Brook, based on Brook's novel of the same name.

"The Aftermath" is a terrific film, though not one to leave you feeling wonderful about the world or the people that inhabit it. Sad movies are an acquired taste for most, though this one is a good place to start.

Video review: "The Legend of Tarzan"

Gosh knows how many cinematic iterations of “Tarzan” there have been, but the newest big-budget effort, “The Legend of Tarzan,” adds little to the oeuvre.

Watching Alexander Skarsgård swing on a vine, fight apes and men, deliver the ubiquitous yodel, etc., it finally occurred to me that this is actually a spiritual remake of another Tarzan movie – “Tarzan the Ape Man,” the 1981 version starring Bo Derek.

Like that soft-core piffle, the main point of this new movie is to delight in displays of human flesh. Except here we’re ogling the guy instead of the girl.

Skarsgård’s body has been transformed into the perquisite tangle of veiny bulges and rippled abdominal landscape favored in this age. We watch him flex and stretch and contemplate the desert of carbs in his diet. Maybe at some point we wonder why he would look like this, since as the story opens he left the jungle many years ago to take up the life of a British nobleman along with his lady love, Jane (Margot Robbie).

Somehow, I doubt they had P90X classes in 19th century England. And you can’t rock a six-pack from playing cricket.

Anyway, they get lured back to the Congo to investigate some allegations of bad behavior, including slavery, at the mining camps, kicking off a confrontation with Leon Rom, a Belgian baddie with dreams of capturing the entire diamond operation. He’s played by Christoph Waltz, in about his sixth version of the “off-putting Christoph Waltz villain.” Samuel L. Jackson tags along as an American envoy offering to help.

A few of the action scenes are gripping, but Tarzan himself is an uncharismatic drip. The truth is the screenplay gives most of the interesting stuff to the supporting actors. Tarzan is just there to be gazed upon.

Maybe 110 minutes of ogling is enough for thee, but not for me.

Bonus features are merely adequate, and are the same for Blu-ray and DVD editions. They include five making-of featurettes and a public service announcement about the African ivory trade.

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