Artists and people in general should always be very careful when hiring companies from overseas for services online. It’s particularly important when you’re looking for help with costly projects such as building websites.

There’s been much written about the challenges of hiring companies in India for website and software development. Some of the common problems include:

1. Lack of Quality Control: When companies pay developers around $1 per hour and they work 10-12 hours a day, the quality of the work goes out the window. The challenge is finding a company with senior programmers and project managers to oversea the quality aspect. Unfortunately, great Indian web development companies are few and far between, as remote work has resulted in many scam artists with no repercussions when your projects fall through.
2. “Yes” Culture: Indian companies will say “yes” to any project even if they really mean “maybe” or “I don’t know.” They’ll agree to the job even though they’re not capable of doing it.
3. Difficulty Meeting Deadlines and Taking Responsibility: In the U.S. deadlines are strictly followed, but in India they are just guidelines and never really followed. They’ll give you many excuses as to why they didn’t meet the deadline, and they’ll never take responsibility for it.

Other commons problems include: bait and switch, frequent disruptions and inability to make decisions.

One other important point- don’t be fooled by the positive reviews you see for these companies. They manufacture and generate their own reviews. So, you can’t trust reviews that appear to come from genuine customers. Ironically, a prime example of many of the above mentioned problems with Indian web developers was experienced by local artists and was brought to our attention. They hired Dean Infotech for a big project and were promised that the project could be delivered. After two and a half years they could not deliver a satisfactory outcome and took zero responsibility for it. After several meetings with the director of the company, Ankit Aggarwal, they were left with total failure. So, don’t be fooled by assurances, testimonials and great reviews.

When seeking out an overseas developer for your project, you may be est off paying a U.S. company the extra money. Don’t waste your time with scam artists who cannot deliver an acceptable final product.

Beanpole, the second feature from acclaimed, young Russian director Kantemir Balagov, is incredibly intense and bleak, almost unbearably so at times. Though its painfully drawn out scenes are sometimes hard to watch, Beanpole is nevertheless a compelling and emotionally crushing film for most of its 130-minute runtime.

The film revisits a particularly rough time in Russian history—the immediate aftermath of World War II, when soldiers have returned from the front missing body parts and worse. Though this period has certainly been covered before, Balagov’s approach is novel, focusing on two young female machine gunners who became close during the war and reunite in Leningrad. Their fraught, almost animalistic relationship embodies the suffering each has been through; their peculiar bond is demonstrated in several scenes by long stretches in which they seem to communicate by staring wordlessly into each other’s eyes.

Iya (Viktoria Miroshnichenko), the tall, pale “beanpole” of the film’s title, is first shown having a kind of seizure, during which she emits short gasps and seems paralyzed. This state is almost casually referred to as “frozen” by the people who work with her in a hospital tending to war injuries. She lives with her young son, Pashka, in a communal living space that is rundown and faded, but (thanks to cinematographer Ksenia Sereda) full of eye-catching bright greens and scarlets, colors that show up in worn but colorful clothes, in addition to curtains, wallpaper and painted surfaces. Sereda’s dark, rich palette is a suitably dramatic backdrop for the movie. The hospital’s male patients–including the young paralyzed Stepan—clearly appreciate Iya’s care, as well as Pashka’s visits; they seem almost desperate to amuse the boy with animal sounds in one scene.

A horrible accident occurs right before Iya is reunited with her former war comrade, Masha (Vasilisa Perelygina), and we learn that Pashka is actually Masha’s son, left with Iya when the latter was “invalided out” of the war due to shell-shock (a perfect description for her catatonic spells). Watching a clearly distraught Iya try to answer Masha’s repeated questions about Pashka’s whereabouts is the first of many prolonged, uncomfortable scenes between the two women.

Masha, with her strange, intermittent smiles and mysterious nosebleeds, is clearly as war-damaged as her friend. Her new grief manifests itself in a cheerful, almost deranged desire to bear another child, though her body has been completely ravaged. She soon joins Iya as an aide in the hospital under the supervision of decent-seeming doctor Nikolai (Andrey Bykov), as the film’s brutal, unpredictable plot continues to unfold.

Aside from the lives of the two women, there is the plight of the paralyzed Stepan, who—along with his traumatized wife—decides he (literally) cannot go on living this way. (He will soon be discharged from the hospital and cannot afford the care he needs.) Though Iya is horrified and resistant, she assists him in a scene that is both excruciating and poignant. Masha uses this act of mercy to further her own desires, forcing the reluctant Iya to go long with her plan. Throughout the film, each woman grapples with power over the other, resulting in a volatile, sometimes affectionate, dynamic.

As the emotional atrocities pile up, we become almost, but not quite, inured to the devastation. By the time Beanpole arrives at a scene in which Masha and her boyfriend’s mother have a verbal duel and we learn the details of Masha’s past, it’s hardly surprising.

Beanpole seems classically Russian in its hopeless melancholy. Though there is a lot of talk by various characters about life getting better now that the war is over, we see mostly pain and trauma. Scenes that are set outside the hospital or the women’s living quarters show that the entire city seems to be under a pall of sad numbness.

Though almost unremitting in its bleakness, Beanpole is a film that is that is as powerful and haunting as it is somber, thanks to the bone-deep performances of its two leads and its creator’s singular vision.

Beanpole opens on Wednesday, January 29, at Film Forum in NYC.

—Marina Zogbi

Magnolia Pictures

Little Joe, Austrian director Jessica Hausner’s first English-language film, is as spare and deliberate as it is visually arresting. With its chilly tone and gorgeous, pastel-hued visuals, the sci-fi drama is both beautiful and creepy, despite a familiar plot.

The film opens with an overhead shot of row-upon-symmetrical-row of red-hued plants in a sterile, brightly lit lab, staffed by technicians in lab coats. New to Planthouse Biotechnologies, Alice (Emily Beecham, who won Best Actress award for the film at Cannes), is lead scientist on this particular project. She has succeeded in synthetically breeding plants that will emit a scent with antidepressant properties in exchange for an abundance of TLC, including temperature control and affectionate conversation. Alice and her associate Chris (a solid-as-always Ben Whishaw) discuss the plant’s readiness for market, specifically the fast-approaching Plant Fair at which it will be unveiled. Already, we feel a sense of foreboding, as the scene is punctuated by Teiji Ito and Markus Binder’s spare, haunting score.

The divorced Alice lives with her son Joe, a young teen who believes that she and Chris would make a great couple, but she has no time for romance, what with the upcoming debut of “Little Joe” (the plant is named after her son). Alice discusses this with her therapist (Lindsay Duncan), along with foreshadowy concerns about her son and the frankenplant itself. (“You never know what might happen.”) She also goes against lab protocol and brings a plant home, which seems like a very bad idea.

Magnolia Pictures

Soon, Bella (an excellent Kerry Fox), a senior scientist at the lab with a history of mental problems (of course), sounds the first warning about Little Joe, citing its effects on her dog, but neither Alice, Chris, nor the other lab workers take her seriously (of course). Eventually Bella asks Alice, “Which of your children will you choose?”

As Little Joe’s powers become more apparent, the musical score becomes intrusively, atonally anxious, reminiscent of Bernard Herrmann (Psycho). Joking references to the film’s obvious predecessor, Invasion of the Body Snatchers (“It’s not like they become zombies!”), signal Hausner’s homage, but Little Joe is not quite another remake. Its chilly charms are quite effective, though not really engaging on an emotional level. Little Joe is a treat for the head if not the heart.

Opening the same day, Beniamino Barrese’s documentary The Disappearance of My Mother is another sort of mystery. The titular mom, Benedetta Barzino, is an iconoclastic Italian celebrity—a former fashion model turned feminist lecturer and journalist. After a lifetime in the spotlight, the 70-something Barzino expresses the desire to “disappear.” As her son Beniamino notes early in the film, “When she told me she was leaving and not coming back, I realized I was not ready to let her go.”

Kino Lorber

What follows is a fascinating, sometimes perplexing film about a woman’s desire to leave the world she’s always known and her son’s seeming need to capture every last moment of her current life.

Because its subject is charismatic, contradictory character who hasn’t lost the ability to hold the camera, the film is intriguing despite Benedetta’s clear reluctance to take part. Her contempt for film (“It’s a lie …The lens is the enemy”) makes the whole project a bit ironic and unsettling, yet there is obviously a close bond between mother and son.

Visually, the documentary is striking; early black and white footage of the dewy young model is juxtaposed with scenes of the older Benedetta puttering at home, lecturing fashion students about the oppressive nature of the industry (“Why does imperfection upset people?”), making a few public appearances, and even sleeping and waking. She curses her son’s intrusive camera throughout, yet he continues filming, seemingly oblivious to her wishes. Despite her feelings, she takes part in London Fashion Week, walking the runway with great presence. At one point, her old friend Lauren Hutton visits; she too objects to Beniamino’s intrusive filming. In several scenes, Beniamino captures Benedetta alone in a crowd, where she looks haunted and hunted — including at her own birthday party, 

Kino Lorber

Alternatively coughing and smoking, Benedetta is obviously ill, but we don’t know how seriously. The big question is the exact nature of her “leaving”… Is it a metaphor for death? Is it more literal?

Beniamino, who seems to have obsessively documented his mother since childhood, includes some playful early footage. We also see him casting women to portray his mother as a young women, as they read aloud from her writing.

How much of this is a gimmick? Hard to say, though  Benedetta certainly seems sincere in her desire to leave her life behind, and there are scenes of her packing and purging possessions. At the end of the film, Beniamino shoots a few clearly manufactured endings, before he and Benedetta come up with a perfect one. It’s a neat resolution to a somewhat messy film that is both a portrait of a fascinating woman and a glimpse into an unusual mother-son relationship.

Little Joe and The Disappearance of My Mother open in NYC at the Quad Cinema on Friday, Dec. 6. (Little Joe will also be available On Demand.)

—Marina Zogbi

On a chilly November night in New York City, Grammy nominated electronic pop duo Sylvan Esso performed at the Beacon Theater for an adoring crowd of avid fans. The show which was the first of two nights featured a live ensemble of musicians for a special series of shows in Los Angeles, New York, Nashville and the band’s hometown, Durham, North Carolina.

It didn’t take long for the crowd to warm up and get into the groove, as lead singer Amelia Meath busted out her own slick dance moves, sporting a puffy green mesh outfit (sending a message?). Her powerful voice along with some seriously infectious beats energized the crowd inviting a party like atmosphere. Re-creating electronic music with a live band is not always an easy task, but the band was flawless, and having the saxophone up-front in the the mix was a smart choice. With that said, Amelia Meath’s amazing voice is clearly the centerpiece in their songs. At one point, in between songs, she proclaimed, ‘this next song is about love, surprise.’ On this night, she was feeling nothing but love from the energetic crowd

While most of the people were on the younger side, I did see some grey haired, older folks snapping photos and shooting videos like their younger counterparts. The fans were very engaged throughout. Singing along to many of the more popular numbers including “Hey Mami” and “Coffee,” but the set list included quite a few new songs as well. Will a new album be dropping soon? The band’s next release will be their third album.

Sylvan Esso seems to have the staying power that many electronic acts find difficult to achieve. On the strength of Meath’s voice, catchy tunes and powerful live performances, the band will continue to have a strong presence in the electronic pop music scene. If you have the chance to see them live, check them out.