FILMS from AFAR

This poignant film about family, love, war, and loss is a throwback in style and subject matter to similarly sentimental fare out of Europe from several decades ago . The Children's Train is reminiscent of 1990s-era Italian classics like Cinema Paradiso, Life is Beautiful and Malena in narrative style and a somewhat wistful portrayal of mid-century Italy. Life was harsh in wartime – illiteracy, poverty, hunger, and death. But the portrayal on screen softens that harshness through the lens of a child's more innocent perspective. Color schemes in Train also soften, from the crisp modern day to the pastels of the Mediterranean flashbacks and the natural hues of the inland north, where 8-year-old Amerigo finds a new life. The music complements these tonal changes. Based on true events of children sent to live with families while waiting out the bombing of Naples in the mid-1940s, the film shows a sensitive boy's life as being marked by women. Absent their men sent to war, women kept families and societies functioning. Amerigo's birth mom does what she has to in order to put food on the table. She tells her son – whose name sounds like "America" (and whose last name translates to "hope") – that his father is in America seeking his fortune. In Cinema Paradiso , the fatherless child imagines his dad to be Clark Gable, and cinema is used as a metaphor for changing times. In Train , music, an education, and the values of communism and feminism represent the framework for a happy life and a rewarding future, something Amerigo intuitively knows when he makes the heartrending choice to board the train north a second time. Read the full review on Common Sense Media . Images courtesy of Netflix.

In a time when immigrants from south of the border are being vilified in the US, a film like Sujo offers a poignant rendering of the brutality which forces some people to flee their homes. From writing-directing team Astrid Rondero and Fernanda Valadez and a female-dominant creative and technical crew, the film won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance and was selected to represent Mexico in this year’s International Oscar category. Sujo is a tense film full of visual symbolism that takes an unexpected turn in its third act. The main character is a boy who survives and ultimately gets a chance at life only because of three women who intervene at key moments to save him. As a small child, Sujo is found abandoned in a car. His beloved father, a sicario, has been killed. His aunts hide him away and negotiate with men who want the child dead. He’ll grow up to bring them trouble, they say. They know this because there’s no other path for boys and men in this rural area of Michoacan named, appropriately, Tierra Caliente. Sujo’s aunt, Nemesio, promises to keep the boy hidden away from the town, ruled over by the cartel. He’s raised alongside his cousins, Jai and Jeremy. Though he misses his father, and he’s raised in poverty, he is well cared for and loved by his aunts. As the boys grow, however, they begin to push their boundaries, eventually and inevitably getting involved with the cartel (each is branded with a large, tattooed number in the gang on his chest). When Jeremy is killed, Nemesio rushes Sujo onto a bus bound for Mexico City and tells him never to return. This is where the film takes an unexpected turn. Now college-aged, Sujo begins to make a life for himself in the city. He finds work unloading produce at a warehouse. One day he wanders into a college class, and the professor takes him under her wing. When Jai comes to town, the violence and rage of his past life revisits him, threatening to upset the balance and future Sujo is slowly shaping. The two parts of the film have very different looks and feels. The first two acts construct a portrayal of a bucolic rural area infested with violence. An opening scene shows a horse escaping a rural rodeo. The horse gallops across a flat landscape, a location we will see again and again as people escape violent men, running in one direction or another. The horse has more symbolism than we realize until the end of the movie, and it’s just one of many wild animals DP Ximena Amann’s camera captures. There seems to be a constant barking, bleating, howling, hooting or neighing heard in the distance and through the fog of these lands, reminding us both of the persistence of the natural world and of the dangers lurking everywhere here. When Sujo settles into the city, the animals disappear, replaced by other dangers. But the dread seems to have disappeared as well. Without it, Sujo is able to get on with the business of living. He has work, a small room in a shared building, and intellectual stimulation in the form of the literature class and books his teacher loans him. He doesn’t need much, but how different his life and his future feel here versus in his dead-end village, representative of so many like it (the number “43” painted on a wall at the university, referring to a group of male college students abducted and killed in 2014, reminds us of this). The women of this story are the caretakers, giving the boys at least a chance at a manhood free from crime and violence. Nemesio even has some powers of divination which help her save Sujo’s life on more than one occasion. In the city, the professor takes over. Though she has plenty of reason not to, she takes Sujo under her wing, shepherding him through the university system. A final scene suggests the promise of a real future for Sujo, once again at the protective hand of a woman who sees not just that he has potential, but that he – like all children, no matter where they’re born – is deserving of the opportunity to live in peace. Despite the darkness in this film, it comes as a relief when it ends on this hopeful note, even if we know for every Sujo there are more Jai’s and Jeremy’s who don’t make it out. Review originally published at AWFJ.org Images courtesy of The Forge

Could the 4-Day Workweek Be the Answer to Finding Work-Life Balance? Change doesn’t come quickly, but there’s a rising movement to make the 5-day week a thing of the past   Article originally published in SUCCESS+ When Greece introduced a 6-day workweek for some business sectors last July, the backlash was immediate. Unions called it “barbaric,” and protestors took to the streets, according to news reports.   In fact, the Greek initiative contradicts a prevailing worldwide trend. Many countries and companies are instead eying a 4-day workweek. In 2022, Belgium became the first country in Europe to give workers the legal right to work the same number of hours in four days rather than five.   Last year, a widely reported 4-day workweek trial in the UK , which allowed companies to tailor the model to fit their individual needs , was the largest of its kind and boasted excellent results. Some 71% of employees reported less burnout and 39% less stress, while 15% of the 2,900 employees who participated in the trail said that “no amount of money” would convince them to return to a 5-day workweek.   Companies in the trial also reported an average 35% increase in revenue. Of the 61 companies that participated in the UK trial, 56 opted to continue with the 4-day workweek. “In Britain, and this is the same in the States as well, we have a culture of very long working hours,” says Joe Ryle , director of the UK-based advocacy group the 4 Day Week Campaign, one of the organizations behind the UK trail. “ Particularly in the UK, we work the longest full-time hours compared to our neighbors in Europe, but we also have one of the least productive economies. What we are producing is a workforce that’s burnt out, stressed, overworked, not very happy.” “It’s time for a change,” Ryle says. “And the encouraging thing is that the 4-day week has come a long way in quite a short space of time.” A Brief History Historical records show that industrial laborers in the 1800s worked as many as 100 hours per week. This prompted the creation of labor unions in the late 1800s that called for limiting the workday to 8 hours. It would take many more proposals and a half a century before Congress would pass the Fair Labor Standards Act, which officially restricted the workweek to 44 hours, amended two years later in 1940 to 40 hours per week.   That model is still the norm. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics , American workers averaged 8.09 hours of work per weekday in 2023. That’s an average, meaning many workers regularly exceed those hours. In some fields, it can be seen as a sign of status and dedication to put in much more.   Still, cracks in the structure and acceptance of traditional work schedules have been appearing for decades. In the 1950s , then-Vice President Richard Nixon promoted the 4-day workweek as a means to raise the “standard of living” for Americans. In the 1980s , the feminist movement began advocating for flexible schedules and maternity leave for women, demands that eventually extended to men. Following the COVID pandemic , many workers realized they wanted more flexibility in their work lives.   A Gallup survey of 5,458 US adults in May 2023 found that 77% were optimistic that a 4-day workweek option would enhance their wellbeing more than any other offered initiatives, such as offering mental health days or limiting work outside of work hours.   “In just a few years, we now have evidence that shows that actually when people are working over four days rather than five, not only are they much happier because they have a better work-life balance,” Ryle says, “they also are much more productive in the workplace. They're able to get on with the work that needs to get done in four days rather than five.” The website for 4 Day Week Campaign further broadens the benefits of a shortened workweek out from the individual to society at large, the economy and the environment, through outcomes like lower unemployment, increased productivity, boosts to tourism, more gender equality and wellbeing, strengthened communities, a more sustainable lifestyle and a reduced carbon footprint. “This isn't a change which is going to happen overnight for everyone,” Ryle cautions. “If you look at the history of moving from a 6-day week to a 5-day week, it does take a while. It does tend to take around a decade or even longer for… an entire economy to shift. It's going to take time, and there will be different ways of getting there and it will look different in different sectors.”   One Company’s Experience   Jenna Kutcher, CEO of her own self-named digital marketing firm, opted to try the 4-day workweek for her business after reading Alex Soojung-Kim Pang’s 2020 book , “Shorter: Work Better, Smarter, and Less – Here’s How,” which profiles South Korean companies that went against the grain of local culture and found great success with shorter workweeks.   She was also inspired by a friend who asked if she ever took a “sacred day,” described as “ one day of the week that was reserved just for you. No guilt. Do whatever you need. Fill up your own cup before serving everyone else.”   “That was just a huge challenge to my way of thinking and working,” Kutcher notes. “I was finding that most of the time I was just shifting right from work into motherhood and vice versa.” Curious, she decided to try a 90-day trial of the 4-day workweek. “The expectation for my team was no using Slack on Fridays, no hitting emails, no expecting anyone else to be online.”   Though she says she didn’t want to commit without trying it out first, she found that her team “loved it,” and productivity and profits were not compromised. Outside contractors were informed that Fridays were not a workday, and they proved flexible. “It was a non-contested decision to continue on with a 4-day workweek, which we have done now for over a year because we absolutely love it.”   “My entire team is a team of women. Most of us are mothers. It was just amazing to have a little bit of time for ourselves, but also to fill that day with family, life stuff and admin so that our weekends could be more enjoyable.”   She adds: “Fridays are now my sacred day, where I can fit in appointments, I can go get a massage, I can take a nap, I can spend time with my family or sit down and read a book. And I feel like it's also challenged us in the work setting to be more efficient with the time that we have, but also to not overthink things, to just be in a more active state, whereas I think that a lot of times your projects will expand the amount of time given to them.”   “It’s something that I hope more companies put into practice, especially companies with moms,” Kutcher says. She advocates for companies to give it a trial run, like summer Fridays, for example, to see if it works for them. “I'm just a huge believer that yes, you can do it all, but you need the system and support to be able to do that. And so for me, the four day work week has totally helped.”   Her employees concur. Stephanie Montgomery, in Customer Support, says transitioning to a 4-day workweek has given her “ freedom and flexibility that I didn’t even know I needed.” She adds: “ Being able to fully enjoy my life outside of my job makes me a better employee and you can bet that I’m hustling to complete all necessary tasks by Thursday evening so that I can close my laptop for the week with a sense of accomplishment. ”   Marisa Vittoria, VP or operations, says that as a result of the 4-day week, “ I’m a better mother, wife, daughter, and I’d like to say leader.” She says her family has saved money on childcare and she is now able to spend more time with her retired parents. At work, her time management and execution efficiency have only improved, and “I’ve now become a pro at batching my days to get what I need done, communicating in a more effective and direct manner to manage and execute cross-brand deliverables and still protect evenings with my family.”   “This type of work week takes time, effort, consistency, leadership plus team commitment, and of course a little creativity,” Vittoria adds, “but once a flow is set, it is 100% worthwhile.”

A generation who came of age in the 1960s is going to love this personal take and behind-the-scenes view of the Fab Four's first visit to the USA. For younger viewers,  Beatles '64  might not have the same impact. That's because the film relies on testimonies from people who were actually there: now-elderly female fans explaining their teen crushes and male fans describing their overwhelming emotions at hearing the Beatles' new sound. One man snuck off with a friend to Liverpool, changing the course of his life. They're fascinating memories, but even the music (and film) industry insiders interviewed–including remaining Beatles themselves–could prove unknowns to younger audiences. It's an interesting twist because the film emphasizes that it was the youth who responded to the Beatles' music so exuberantly in their early days. Stodgy parents disapproved. The documentary captures the band's sheer energy and joy in 1964. They are extremely young, and almost giddy at their sudden fame. The Maysles' footage shows them off stage, in hotel rooms and on trains, reacting to what's happening outside their windows. The film also puts their tour into historical context, suggesting their vivaciousness and youth may have helped a generation process violent events in America in the 1960s. It's a unique insider view that captures a moment in time and reveals the power of music. And that's something even the kids can understand. Read the full review at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of Disney+

This intimate yet universal family tale was selected to represent Iran in the International Oscar category. The debut feature shows a lot of promise for writer-director Babak Lotfi Khajepasha. He’s also not the only Iranian nominee contending for the International Oscar; exiled director Mohammad Rasoulof’s also poetically-titled  The Seed of the Sacred Fig,  set against political protests in Tehran, was chosen to represent Germany. Although  In the Arms of the Tree   (Dar Aghooshe Derakht)  touches on divorce, it deals with less controversial subject matter. Its storyline suggests a strong support for the nuclear family, and the cinematography accentuates the beauty of the Iranian countryside. The film is full of symbolism, with the natural world playing a role in the characters’ lives and foreshadowing events to come. Kimia (Maral Baniadam) and Farid (Javad Ghamati) are seeking a divorce due to the wife’s mysterious illness. Showing signs of anxiety, she is unable to travel beyond the 15-kilometer sign on the road out of town, bites her fingers compulsively, faints occasionally and senses dread all around her (like noting the sheep are the color of gravestones). She says she’s “depressed” and “languishing,” and it’s out of her control. Farid seems to still love her and want for their relationship to work, though he’s also flirting with a much younger female employee. Their plans involve each parent taking one of their sons (Ahoura and Rayan Lofti) to live with them. But 11-year-old Taha and his five-year-old brother Alisan are inseparable. The mature Taha takes care of Alisan while his distracted parents are mostly absent and their makeshift babysitter-uncle’s carelessness borders on abuse – though Reza (Rouhollah Zamani) also loves the boys and spends significant time with them.  The parents are advised to implement “distance practicing” to get the boys used to being apart, but more than one person suggests Alisan will “die” without Taha to watch over him. Indeed, Taha saves Alisan’s life in an early scene. It’s one example of the use of foreshadowing in the film. Taha has spotted a white balloon Alisan always ties to his arm floating up into the trees. A crate of baby ducks entrusted to Taha’s care, and the near deaths of fish in the family’s fish farm, likewise parallel later events.  When Farid tries to take Taha away even just for a day, they get into a minor car crash. Farid explains the pending family separation as they sit together on a rock overlooking a river carved into a valley that represents another separation – the border between Iran and Turkey.  In the Arms of the Tree recently won the Special Jury Prize at the 10th Annual Asian World Film Festival in Los Angeles. The film constructs its story deliberately, sticking closely to the family members and revealing clues that build up to a powerful and excruciating third act that forces its characters, brought to authentic life in powerful performances, to reevaluate their lives. Review originally published at AWFJ.org Images courtesy of Luckymatrix

It’s rare that a film can be edgy and entertaining, and at the same time educational. Ireland’s early submission to the International Oscar race, Kneecap is an in-your-face romp packed with sex, drugs and Irish hip hop, starring the real-life members of the band at its heart. It might be a tough sell to aging Academy voters, but it’s a raucously fun ride, and one with a serious message about preservation of the Irish language and the impact years of fighting has had on the Irish people. As young boys, Naoise Ó Cairealláin and Liam Óg Ó Hannaidh are taught the Irish language by Naoise’s militant nationalist father Arlo (Michael Fassbender). Fast forward, and the boys are now hard-partying twentysomethings in constant trouble, and Arlo has become a legend – a political martyr who is either dead or on the run. One night after Liam is arrested and refuses to admit he speaks English, local Irish language schoolteacher JJ Ó Dochartaigh is called in to translate. He’s given a notebook containing Liam’s writings and is later inspired to put his words to music. When Liam is released, JJ convinces him and Naoise to start a band, and JJ joins as manager, mixer and eventual third performer, DJ Próvaí. Under the constant watch of the authorities, especially stern Detective Ellis (Josie Walker), the band begins gaining in notoriety – as much for their rebellious music as for their “anti-social” antics, anarchic concerts and defiantly superfluous drug consumption. The script gives all three characters their own storylines – JJ’s home life and career, Liam’s relationship with a local Protestant girl and Naoise’s emotionally absent parents. Liam’s first-person narration is used sparingly and wittily. He and Naoise explain to the camera in a documentary-style split-screen that they’re part of the “ceasefire generation.” In their typical flippant style, one spits, “The Troubles? I’ve got fucking troubles!” The political is painfully personal for these kids. Director Rich Peppiatt, who wrote the script with band members Móglaí Bap and Mo Chara (Naoise and Liam’s stage names), throws all kinds of fancy camerawork and framing at viewers, set to the band’s own pumping rap. Somehow it works perfectly with the material. Cinematographer Ryan Kernaghan makes it seem like the camera is inside a character’s nose as it sniffs white powder, in his eyes during a hangover, or even inside a slot machine looking out at three perfectly framed band members. One highlight is a cheeky foot-chase scene through the streets of Belfast, with the diagonal white lines on Liam’s green tracksuit conspicuously matching railings and wall paintings and tilted camera angles. Another highlight is one of many drug trip sequences – in this one, the characters turn into Claymation figures in their delirium. It’s hilarious, even though deep down you know there’s really nothing funny about the stars’ compulsive drug consumption. The band is all they’ve got in a gloomy town of stifling police oppression and few opportunities. In this, the film has shades of Trainspotting . Mix in a bit of The Commitments – or, in the case of the uninspired schoolteacher who rediscovers his joy for life, maybe Another Round . The difference is that this one also has a message about the fight to sustain indigenous languages (and, by extension, cultures). End credits close with facts about the passage of the Irish Language Law in 2022 and the fast disappearance of indigenous languages worldwide. It’s a message that never gets lost amid the high jinks of the band members, although the filmmakers have smartly kept the didacticism fully encased in an entertaining package. This review originally ran on AWFJ.com Images courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics

This documentary boasts impressive behind-the-scenes access and deft editing with significant archive footage and animated sequences, but it's also one-sided and overly long. Still, considering the fame of this film's subject, and the controversy surrounding her very public court case against another rapper, Megan Thee Stallion: In Her Words should draw a broad audience. She opens up in interviews and reveals very personal feelings and experiences, letting the camera into her bedroom and behind the scenes with her. You know you're not getting the full story, but you do get an inside view. It also takes guts to show such vulnerability, and she seems to want to help others by telling her story. The film relitigates the case against Megan's shooter and shows the impact of public and industry backlash on her mental health. He was convicted in a court of law; maybe this documentary will give her another victory in the court of public opinion. The film also tells the rapper's life story, marked by the early loss of both her parents and a controversial career built around highly sexualized performances and lyrics. The animated sequences are stylish and haunting. You walk away with the sense of a young woman still growing up, learning to handle the pressures of fame, and taking pride in the career and public profile she has constructed. Read the full review on Common Sense Media Images courtesy of Amazon Prime Video

Gripping and unexpected, this film blends brutality and tenderness into a two hour-plus musical saga that's impossible to turn away from. Emilia Pérez tackles Mexican corruption and narco-related violence in a wholly unique package. The goriest of images give way to gentle ballads and lullabies. Mexico's mass graves of tens of thousands of murdered or disappeared citizens contrast with the delicate tale of Emilia's gender dysphoria and transformation (Gascón, stunning in dual roles as the dangerous Manitas and the likeable Emilia). That a film can evoke sympathy in its viewers for a violent mafioso is a testament to its power of persuasion, an intention underscored in closing scenes involving a saint-like statue. While Gomez may give the most memorable musical performances, this film's heart belongs to Saldaña, whose steely Rita journeys alongside Emilia, turning from hostage to friend. Saldaña's singing is forgettable, but her ability to convey complex emotions in a single look–and her dance moves–are not. Many of the set pieces contain striking choreography and haunting tunes, with lyrics sometimes whispered or spoken. French director Audiard 's first foray in Spanish, the melodrama could be reminiscent of the work of Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar . Read the full review at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of Netflix.

A well-paced but overly lengthy documentary about a fascinating woman, this film does what you hope it will by offering new information about a very public figure. Martha director Cutler has included dozens of audio interviews to complement the on-camera interview with the woman herself. Martha has also provided what's billed as "never-before-seen photos, letters, and diary entries." There are insights into her childhood, what drives her, how she feels about her perfectionism and her romantic relationships, how she experienced her months in prison. But the film runs long, and some of the same images are shown again and again. You can't help but wonder how the self-proclaimed perfectionist might have edited this film differently, were she given the chance. Read the full review at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of Netflix

It takes a while, but this family dramedy with endearing characters finds its rhythm midway through the story and builds to a fairly predictable but enormously gratifying ending. The pace of the first act of  Nutcrackers  feels slightly off. Scenarios meant to be funny feel overly scripted or awkwardly staged to elicit an easy laugh. There's the occasional unnecessary use of slow mo, and who paddleboards across a lake to find cell phone bars when they could easily take a car into town? Characters are set up as more locked into archetypes than they turn out to be: the big-city businessman versus the crazy homeschooled kids (played by four real-life brothers). In act two, when they're getting to know each other, more genuine moments unfold. Details about the family's background emerge, adding complexity. The parents' experience in a cult explains the children's homeschooling (in which little to no actual schooling takes place, but at least nobody is brainwashing them). The sibling relationship between Michael and Jan comes into focus, as does Michael's lonely, work-obsessed lifestyle–no friends to even water his plant while he's away. The emotional closing sequence, deftly filmed and set to inspiring music, ties all these pieces together. Justice heartbreakingly asks, once again, "When I wake up tomorrow, are you still gonna be here?" And Michael literally awakens to his future. Read the full review online at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of Hulu

Even the most respected literary works don't always translate well to screen, and this is an example of a very challenging adaptation. Magic realism in particular can be quite evocative on page but confusing on screen, seen in Pedro Páramo 's narrative time switches, ambiguous dialogues, and elements of fantasy. The film's cast and visual team have done an inspiring job conveying the darkness, fear, and superstitions of the times, and the dread of confronting the worst of human nature. It may be that this film will speak strongly to a local audience familiar with the original work and its deeper significance within Mexican culture. For other viewers, it could present a demanding – and lengthy, at two-plus hours – watch. Read the full review at Common Sense Media . Images courtesy of Netflix

Work-life balance may be a multimillion-dollar industry, but it's not a new concept. Experts say it's also achievable. Read the full article below.