Instead, Konstantin Khabenskiy (“Black Sea”) , who both directed Sobibor and stars in it as Alexander Pechersky — the real-life Russian prisoner of war who leads the uprising — focuses on the day-to-day struggles of camp life, into which ordinary Jews and other undesirables (including captured Russian-Jewish soldiers, who, according to “rules of engagement”) should have been treated as prisoners. But of course, Nazi policies, which helped coin the phrase “crimes against humanity,” had no compunction to break any law they could get away with.

By presenting a breadth of characters — both prisoners and guards — heroism in the film is depicted primarily as the result of the natural human instinct to survive, and evil, as a dark cloud that has entered the marrow of the oppressors, and is allowed to flourish in the absence of any restrictions (a “Lord of Flies” environment). However, instead of the latter work’s asocial children, we witness depraved adults; instead of a remote island, we observe an environment that is geographically in Europe, but walled off from civilization.

What made the true story of Sobibor an unusual one is that a group of victims were able to transform their natural disposition to survive at all costs into action in which they must have — on some level — understood that some of them would die directly as a result of their actions. These dozen or so prisoner/activists were able to overcome their inaction and passivity based on the dim hope they would be freed by advancing Russian forces.

One can conjecture about what made Sobibor different. Was it that the camp housed captured soldiers that had military experience, and the skills and the capacity to commandeer an escape? Maybe. That is historically interesting, but not the central theme of the film. Or was it one individual, Pechersky, whose grim persistence in planning a rebellion and diligence in convincing both his military comrades and civilian prisoners that an escape was feasible? That is also a possibility. However, one of the film’s strengths is that the world of the camp is a complex one presented from several perspectives. On one extreme were those prisoners resigned to whatever fate awaited them to the other extreme: Guards and officers that viewed the camp as a “free fire zone” in which Nazi soldiers took advantage to satisfy their sadistic inclinations. This multiple perspective creates a more robust presentation and allows for a broader interpretation of how the dynamics of this circumscribed world operated. Pechersky is no superhero, which places his decisions on a human level, not an otherworldly one. This suggests that the major motivation behind this Russian production was inspired because of “Russian” heroics moot.

The film also manages to provide a deeper examination of the camp’s Nazi officers. They reveal their pettiness by seeking out the finest clothing and accessories among those confiscated to laud them over their peers. This adds an element of what Hannah Arendt called “the banality of evil,” but also reveals that this so-called banality was a minor point in the Nazi’s final solution. It’s primarily window dressing and not relevant to the core issues and outcomes of the holocaust. Not that Sobibor is simply a case study in how the perversion of human values operated on a day-to-day basis. Such trite moments alternate in the film with scenes that include depictions of individual and group extermination. To have ignored them would have been historically dishonest and would have kept the action on the level of a perverted soap opera.

As the escape plans become more organized and inevitable, genuine tension prevails until the climactic sequence when the prisoners break out, fulfilling audience expectations. This is a requisite feature of cinematically satisfying prison movies. But in Sobibor, the events in the film are never reduced to the level of cliché because they are particularized through the growing determination of the prisoners facing a challenge that at best could be only partly successful.
Khabenskiy portrayal of Pechersky reveals a resolute, imperfect, and conflicted hero. The other outstanding performance is by the French actor, Christopher Lambert (“Bel Canto”), whose portrayal of Karl Frenzel, the Nazi administrator of the camp, is convincing and captivating.

Sobibor is the Russian submission for the Academy Award for best foreign language film. Although the real Sobibor was located in Poland, the film was shot in Lithuania. Besides Russian and German, the languages spoken among those inhabiting the camp include Polish, Dutch, Yiddish, and English. This helps give the film an international flavor, and adds to the complexity of the relationships between its occupants.

To view the film as the victory of courage over despair is probably too celebratory. However, it does present the victory of courage amid despair, which raises the resolution of the film above a “Hollywood” ending. It could provide a lesson in how to develop a theme through character development and the authentic depiction of difficult choices that could challenges its audiences. This may not fall solely on the deaf ears of commercial filmmaking, but it is doubtful that it will be taken to heart by more than a small percentage of them.

On a brisk night, Lena (Carolyn Genzkow, “The Nightmare”) shows up on the doorstep of a secluded family mansion in Germany. Though her claims of a car accident initially appeal to Maria Rossberg (Elisabeth Degen, “Open Cage”) to let her inside, it is soon apparent that Lena has arrived intentionally and with dubious intent. Lena has Maria’s father Anselm (Michael Degen, “Hannah Arendt”), a 90-year-old former Auschwitz guard, in her sights. While resolved to coerce a confession of his past crimes (of which the Rossbergs vehemently deny), Lena’s angry determination blinds her to the severe moral dilemma in which she has placed herself.

The character dynamics on display are damn impressive, with many conversations being built from countless layers of smokescreen misdirections and baiting, made all the more intense by the powerful and consistent performances by the whole cast. As each aspect of each character is revealed, all relationships evolve, break, and evolve some more. The significant number of plot shifts always build on existing tension and manage (for the most part) to continue the progression effectively. All in all, Schult and Daniel Bickermann’s screenplay is deftly crafted, however, this is also where the tight consistency of the film starts to fall apart, as the final third of the narrative loses all forward momentum when it struggles to wrap everything together. While it was striving to be ambiguous, emblematic, and subtly contemplative, it falls victim to a domino effect of rapidly mounting clichés that results in a disappointing non-ending.

The dynamic range of Katharina Bühler’s cinematography elaborates and greatly exudes the natural kinetic energy of each scene, making appropriate use of handheld and static camera movements and positions. In addition to this, Vincent Assmann’s editing is normally sharp and focused, playing with tempo and pacing in fairly interesting ways. However, these elements both fall victim to a few technical and continuity flubs, most notably in one shot in which the boom mic penetrates so deeply into the frame that all immersion is completely lost at a key dramatic moment.

Nonetheless, Winter Hunt is a film that needs to be experienced several times to be fully appreciated. A deeply fascinating installment in the modern World War II film catalog, it explores the continuous real-world effects of the terrible atrocities committed over 70 years ago, and how it affects us socially and personally. While its conclusion is superficial at best and a handful of technical drawbacks check the experience from being fully engrossing, it is still a fascinatingly brisk and cerebral assault on preconceptions.

Without question, Juanjo Giménez Peña’s first short film in seven years is as simple as a film can be. Timecode begins by following Luna (Lali Ayguadé) on her way to work in a basement parking lot. There, her mannerisms and appearance transform into someone almost unrecognizable to the woman we’ve been introduced to, and Luna takes over her shift from Diego (Nicolas Ricchini), who works nights. Under direct orders from her manager, Luna is asked to inspect the night’s recordings to note any evidence of damage done to one of its cars. However, what she discovers is both bizarre and revealing of something extremely personal.

Admittedly, by filming the preceding action as banal as possible, Peña accomplishes a smooth and amusing tonal shift that transforms the whole film into a sweet-natured, unusual romantic comedy. Its reveal is essential to its overall charm, becoming a commentary on finding methods of expression and beauty under bleak and oppressive surroundings. It becomes important that the majority of the film’s action is seen through the view of CCTV footage to emphasize social scrutiny and the freedom our protagonists achieve despite always being watched across two monitors. In this sense, Timecode tells its tale and examines its themes with great effect.

However, amidst its unorthodoxy, there is something quite derivative to its central premise. Anyone who has seen Disney’s “Inner Workings” has essentially seen the same film, but with its brow set to a higher level. Dubbed a “crowd pleaser” by many journalists attending Cannes, Timecode does as described, but its fifteen-minute runtime makes every moment feel insubstantial. Yes, its message is feel-good but is anything unique being said? The short answer is simply no.

This isn’t to decimate the film and write it off as bad either. It’s exactly the consequence of winning awards; the immediate question is whether or not the accolades were deserved. For Timecode, it unfortunately is not, but that doesn’t detract from the admirable approach in cinematography, choreography, and design with which everything is told. The movie delivers an amusing story which will definitely entertain people, but it seems like a lot more could be explored when it finally stops.

Unsurprisingly, this is when most people tapped out of the franchise, but the film was still successful enough to warrant a second sequel . . . at least according to Tom Six.

Enter The Human Centipede 3 (Final Sequence), a cinematic experience so excruciating, it makes being waterboarded look like a vacation in Fiji. Having already cranked the horror to 11 in his first sequel, Six chose to cap his horror trilogy off with a movie he thinks is a comedy. The thing Six doesn’t seem to understand is that comedies, by definition, are supposed to amuse their audience. There is NOTHING amusing here, not even perversely. From the first frame to the last, this movie assaults you with its ugliness, and unlike its predecessors, it never takes time to relent. Granted, we’ve already come to expect this kind of repulsiveness from Six, but the contents of this “comedy” involve frequently casual racial epithets, multiple scenes of mutilation (including a graphic castration sequence), and sexual abuse from the opening scene on. Hilarious, right?

Granted, this is a more plot — and character — oriented endeavor than the first two films, but it’s a wasted effort on all accounts. The overall tone of the film is thrown all over the place thanks to the re-casting Dieter Laser (“I Am the Other Woman”), the star of the first film, as the lead. Laser plays Bill Boss, a ridiculously offensive prison warden trying to keep his ridiculously offensive prison in check. He overacts with what appears to be be decided intention, but while it served as comical tonal juxtaposition in the first flick, any entertainment value here gets camouflaged by the film’s aggressively convoluted mishmash of over-the-top deviancy and misguided attempts at levity. At his side is the pathetically nebbish Dwight, played by Laurence R. Harvey (“ABCs of Death 2”), another returning cast member from the franchise. He gives a dramatically different performance than earlier and is easily the best actor in the movie, but he’s completely underutilized thanks to the domineering fixation on Laser’s character. And then there’s ex-pornstar Bree Olson, playing a character who has a name you won’t remember, as she’s referred to several different monikers throughout the film, such as “tits,” “bitch,” “office slut,” and more. Aside from Tom Six’s sister making a brief cameo, she is the only female in the entire movie, yet her character’s sole purpose is to be on the receiving end of Boss’s various forms of abuse. (Reminder: This is a “comedy”).

It’s hard to say who this movie is for. It clearly isn’t made for the fans, as the titular centipede isn’t the primary focus of the movie. In fact, there really isn’t any focus at all. Every grotesque sequence of this movie feels cluttered and shoehorned in to one-up the last, but it never feels like a one-up. It’s 100 minutes of uninterrupted hostility, but it’s only a matter of minutes before it becomes fatiguing. While the first two movies relegated the most disgusting aspects strictly to visuals, this movie’s entire script is littered with shock value. But “shock” is only shocking when there’s a line to cross, but Six begins this movie way past that line and just keeps moving forward, sterilizing the potential for the extreme reactions he so clearly desires.

I live-tweeted my reactions to this movie a few months back, and at one point I referred to Tom Six as a “weasel.” Shortly thereafter, the director retweeted my comment and briefly changed his profile picture to that of an actual weasel, laughing while he did it. I think that reaction paints an accurate picture of what this movie is. The Human Centipede 3 (Final Sequence) is not a movie made for you: The audience. It’s Six’s complete, sick vision, and he didn’t make it for anybody but himself. It serves only to amuse his own warped ego, and it’s obvious he’s proud of his work. From both a position of satirical or morbid curiosity, there is nothing to appreciate here. It runs the gamut of taboos, offending every possible demographic as often as possible. It’s an abrasion to both genre filmmaking and all five of your senses. You’re better off ignoring it completely lest we get a fourth addition to this hopefully dead franchise.

Those are just the beginning of the troubles with the newest Relativity Media release, the supposedly true tale of the 1997 North Carolina Loomis-Fargo armored car robbery by a bunch of backwoods crackers the cast of “Hee Haw,” as well as Hillary Clinton, would find deplorable and unredeemable.

The premise is certainly ripe for some very funny situations, but under director Jared Hess (best known for “Napoleon Dynamite”), it grows more and more desperate and depressing with each passing reel. And, with a cast led by Zach Galifianakis (“The Hangover” franchise and now “Baskets” TV series), “Saturday Night Live” veteran Kristen Wiig (“Zoolander 2”) and Wes Anderson’s favorite whipping boy, Owen Wilson (who once was nominated for an Academy Award for writing “The Royal Tenenbaums”), the aforementioned negative comments should not be necessary, but even these actors cannot save it. Which is not to say Masterminds is a complete waste of time. There are some decent jokes (not a lot, mind you, but some) that come out of this story of sad-sack David Ghantt (Galifianakis), a Loomis-Fargo guard so trusted by his superiors that he is given a key to the storage warehouse’s vault. In this uninspiring and less than exciting position, he meets the flirtatious Kelly Campbell (Wiig), a white trash beauty who beguiles him into stealing what would amount to around $17 million.

The trouble is, there are not enough good laughs to make this worth the effort it takes to get dressed and drive to the cinema and it ends up joining “The Boss,” “Ghostbusters” and “The Brothers Grimsby,” among others, as ambitious, but ultimately failed live action comedies of 2016.

Anyways, after the heist, David is forced to live on the lam in Mexico while Campbell’s neighbor, Steve (Wilson), known as “Geppetto,” grabs the lion’s share of the largesse and he and wife proceed to spend like the extras in “Goodfellas” (cars, yachts, mansions, etc.). When Steve fails to have David captured by Mexican authorities (several times), he sends hitman Mike McKinney (Jason Sudeikis, the horrible “Mother’s Day”) to kill him. It’s here that the picture begins to turn into a not-so-memorable episode of “The Last Man on Earth” TV series (another Sudeikis vehicle) where David is spared because of a ridiculous coincidence.

And, as the plot spins more and more out of control, Steve kidnaps Kelly, forcing Galifianakis to come back to the States and do his best Liam Neeson “Taken” impersonation (he isn’t very convincing) in a befuddling rescue attempt.

Along with Wiig and Sudeikis, add other “Saturday Night Live” alums Leslie Jones (“Ghostbusters,” and quickly becoming the face of loud, obnoxious, black female characters onscreen), as a loud, obnoxious, black female FBI agent, and recent Emmy winner Kate McKinnon (“Ghostbusters”) as David’s weird, spaced-out (not in a good way) fiancee; neither of these actresses add anything but embarrassment to the effort, but the writers (Chris Bowman, Hubbel Palmer, and “Saturday Night Live” scribbler Emily Spivey) continue to add insult to injury by trying to out do “The Brothers Grimsby” with several gross-out scenes, including a character getting a mouthful of Vagisil cream, as well as Galifianakis shooting himself in the ass, eating a tarantula and taking a dump into a hotel swimming pool (I don’t write this stuff, friends, I just report on what I have to see).

A few decades back, we had what was then known as the ultimate stupid comedy, “Dumb and Dumber,” which made boffo box office and even endeared itself to many critics despite it’s title and content. Here, Masterminds is dumb, all right, but no such affection will ever be attached to this mish-mash of a misadventure and stupidity.

Hatching a plan.

If you are one to believe Sylvester Stallone (“Bullet to the Head”) can carry the role of a super-smart security expert then you are halfway to euphoria with his new film Escape Plan. If you’re not, surprisingly enough, the movie offers enough excitement for you to overlook that by continuing the recent trend of old guys forgetting names and kicking ass.

The other senior citizen laying out the bruises in Escape Plan is Arnold Schwarzenegger as Stallone’s unlikely ally. Stallone, you see, is Ray Breslin, the Harry Houdini to maximum security prisons. Basically, he — with some help from partners, Lester Clark (Vincent D’Onofrio, “Sinister”), Hush (Curtis ’50 Cent’ Jackson, “13”) and Abigail (Amy Ryan, “Win Win”) — gets paid obscene amounts of money to test their designs and escapability and he has yet to meet four walls that can contain him. Showing people their flaws makes for some powerful enemies so under the guise of testing the latest off-the-grid, state-of-the-art design known as “The Tomb,” Ray finds himself trapped and at the mercy of a comically over-the-top villainous warden (Jim Caviezel, “Transit” ) and his enforcer guard (Vinnie Jones, “Kill the Irishman”).

Just in time, Schwarzenegger (“The Last Stand”), as a hulking, calculating German prayer reciting inmate, comes along to befriend our hero. Together (interesting fact that these Stallone and Schwarzenegger never really starred in a movie together in all these years), they scheme, probe and unmask the gaudishly lit aluminum and glass labyrinth and those that work to keep them confined within it.

It’s here where Escape Plan stumbles thanks to abject stupidity and excels due to some good old fashioned 80’s era action. Although this takes place in a box that is supposed to be the most impenetrable conceived, Ray happens upon things too easily and everyone tasked with locking him down do exactly what they aren’t supposed to do. A necessary evil, I suppose, but one that could have easily been written better. Mikael Håfström — not exactly known for directing action — handles the task well, which basically means he gets out of the way of his two action stars and lets them do what they’ve been doing for 30 years.

In a windowed cell.

And while both stars have their names atop the movie poster, Stallone is the star of the feature. The man still can’t successfully act his way out of a wet paper bag — not that he really has to in a movie like this — but he is nonetheless relatable and can still believably beat the living shit out of a guy half or three-quarters his age (which he is called upon to do more than once). Arnold, well he’s dragging ass a bit more than Sly, but he manages to get off a few of those heavily-accented zingers he’s adored for and tosses around a Gatling gun like he was a 40 year-old starring in “Predator” again.

Through their heydays Stallone and Schwarzenegger avoided each other and actively tried to one-up the other. I think now in their advancing age they’ll come to realize they need each other as Escape Plan is infinitely better than those half-baked solo efforts they did earlier this year. It’s also good enough to get me more interested in seeing these guys play together again in “The Expendables 3.”