SIFF 2012

4 Days in May (4 Tage im Mai) (Achim von Borries, Gerrmany/Russia, 2011)

The four days in question belong to 1945. The last four days of the war. A Russian captain has been left with only 8 men to commandeer the girl’s orphanage from which to patrol the Baltic coast and take German soldiers prisoner. Russian is the native language of the baroness who runs the orphanage but she makes it clear that she does not consider the Russian captain a liberator. She had fled St. Petersburg to escape the Bolsheviks. She protectively cuts off Anna’s hair so that the German maid (about 18) will look less attractive to the Russian soldiers. The Russian captain protectively cuts the trousers of the Baroness’s nephew (13) so that, in short pants, he will look more a child and will not be taken as a prisoner of war. But, small in stature already, looking like a child is the last thing he wants. For one thing, he wants the German soldiers to let him help fight off the Russians. For another, he is in love with Anna.

German soldiers arrive who greatly outnumber the Russians and will not surrender. They want to cross the water into Denmark and surrender to the British. They could easily overtake the Russians, if they would choose. The Russian captain could easily ignore his orders and let the Germans flee if he would choose.

The relationship between the captain and the baroness could easily drive this movie. Or that between the captain and the German lieutenant colonel. But Anna and the nephew are also given central places in the plot. She and a young Russian radio operator develop an attraction for each other and must rely on the jealous boy as an interpreter. The bravura of the nephew, meanwhile, stirs up painful family memories for the captain. From an actual occurrence in one of the more obscure locales of WWII, writer/director Achim von Borries has created a tight, irony-packed story of constant dramatic tension. A story that needs to be told. Especially whenever war gets perceived as a simple conflict between a set of two enemies.

Beasts of the Southern Wild (Benh Zeitlin, US, 2012)

Here’s a unique version of apocalyptic tale that, like The Road and Testament, portrays parental protection in the face of threat. More powerfully, however, Beasts of the Southern Wild gives us, like Testament and unlike The Road, the strong human compulsion of a community to pull together as family in the pursuit of survival. Replace Testament‘s middle-class suburbia with a poor Louisiana coastal community (outside the levy) lovingly referred to as “The Bathtub.” Replace nuclear holocaust with climate change. Replace the Pied Piper allusion with an imaginative return of giant pre-historic Ouraks. Throw in an examination of human status in relation to the rest of earth’s beasts, then add a post-Katrina cynicism, plus a lot of booze.

Hushpuppy, a 6 or 7 year-old African American girl commands the central character role. You can decide how much beyond the “cute factor” this adds to first-time writer/director Zeitlin’s story. Are we to learn something only a poor disenfranchised girl can teach us? Her voice overs are catching and sometimes come believably from a young girl’s perspective. “The world fits together and if even the smallest part breaks, the whole thing busts apart.” Perhaps we can imagine she picked this up from her unofficial school teacher. No matter. It’s how Hushpuppy later applies this insight that is so satisfyingly true.

You can decide also if the scenes of interaction with others from outside “The Bathtub,” are necessary. And you can decide if the language is sexist enough to interfere with the films portrayal of strong female characters. Strength is always depicted in masculine terms, weakness in feminine, often crass, terms. But no argument on this: Hushpuppy is strong.

One of the film’s greatest gifts is an evaluation of humanity’s place in the kingdom of beasts. Much of what we see works to blur the distinctions. Living conditions at Hushpuppy and her dad’s swamp hovel don’t differ much from that of their pets or livestock. One “school” lesson goes something like this: “Everythin’ is meat. Ready to be et by someone else. Even all yer asses are meat.” When another survivor tries to show Hushpuppy how to open a crab with a knife, angry Dad objects: “Don’t you dare! You gotta learn to beast it.” And as she grapples with it bare-handed, the whole crowd chants, “Beast it, beast it, beast it.”

One last thing you’ve got to decide for yourself. When Hushpuppy finally has a show down with the Ouraks, is it simply metaphoric? Powerful? A little over the top? Another certainty, though: Zeitlin wants us to know that Hushpuppy’s care for her sick dad, like his efforts to prepare her for survival, separate humans from the beasts that devour their own in times of threat. At least some humans.

Dwight Henry gives a strong performance as Hushpuppy’s dad, Wink.

Can (Rasit Çelikezer, Turkey, 2011)

Not everyone should be a parent. For an infertile man, Cemel manages to bring two children into the world. But neither situation was what he expected. When the going gets tough, he splits. In one way or another. The first child, Can (pronounced jon), is a black-market adoptee (they live, after all in the human-trafficking capitol of Istanbul). But Cemel wants to hide the shame of his condition so he makes his wife fake pregnancy for 9 months before they pick up the infant. Talk about post-partem depression! That the boy has survived to age 6 with any state of emotional health at all is a clear miracle. So it is fitting he’s the title character. A depressing film with a hopeful ending. [more on this later] The film won a special award this year at Sundance. [I understand the name, Can, is related to “heart” and can mean “dear one.”]

A Cube of Sugar (Ye Habe Ghand) (Reza Mirkarimi, Iran, 2011)

  Somewhat reminiscent of Monsoon Wedding, a middle class Iranian family gathers for a pending nuptials. Wonderful food is prepared and served, more family arrives, tensions are revealed, slowly we gather how each is related, wonderful food is prepared and served, women let their hair down and really laugh, electrical power failures are averted, hopes and dreams are uncovered, wonderful food is prepared and served, and plans are interrupted. Everybody sleeps together on the floor! A room for each gender, of course. You not only get a glimpse of how a middle eastern culture handles celebrations and tragedies, you want to be invited to be a part of it all. To help throw confetti during the parade of gifts, to throw out a rug and pillow on your part of the sleeping room floor, and of course, scoot up to the feast spread out on the dining room floor!

Extraterrestial (Extraterrestre) (Nacho Vigalondo, Spain, 2011)

The writer/director, Vigalondo, was spot on with his introduction: “This is an alien invasion movie for the rest of us. The 99 per cent of us who are not going to band together with our meager resources and save the world against impossible odds.” Or as one commenter said, it’s Independence Day in the hands of Woody Allen.

The huge ships arrive but don’t do anything, just sit there in the skyline! All the action takes place among and within the small cast of flawed characters. [more on this enjoyable film later]

Five Star Existence (Sonja Lindén, Finland/Sweden, 2011)

An international, yet personal exploration of a global question: in what ways is technology altering our human nature. Everybody has been talking about it. Lindén isn’t stepping into untred territory here nor does she cover all the ground. But she has done a fantastic job of summarizing the issues in a captivating visual manner. Her film offers an accessible way to meet what should be a required course for all of us in 21^st humanity. Parents in particular. There is a bit of a clumsy ending as she tries with no time left to tack on a remedial action plan. But that did not seem to bother the SIFF doc jury which awarded Five Star Existence a special prize.

Goodbye (Bé Omid E Didar) (Mohammad Rasoulof, Iran, 2011)

If you haven’t heard yet, an amazing amount of great cinema has been flowing out of Iran lately. Rasoulof is one of the emerging masters. See my comments on White Meadows from last year’s SIFF. While his last film was subtly and symbolically about his government’s oppressive regime (though apparently enough to get him arrested), Goodbye is anything but subtle. The fact that most scenes are interior leads me to believe it was shot while Rasoulof was under house arrest.

Noora is a civil rights lawyer whose political involvement has cost the loss of her license. She has little or no contact with her journalist/activist husband who lives underground. She is pregnant. She is trying to orchestrate a migration. With few friends she can trust, she is lonely. She has a pet turtle (providing a little symbolism if not much companionship). She has very little money to use for the necessary bribes at each step of her medical and legal procedures. She is depressed.

In short, Noora (Leila Zare) does not win you over with her bright or optimistic personality and charm. She wins you with her strong will and enduring commitment. But don’t take that word win too far. If you can enjoy slow-paced, intense but non-dramatic suspense for 104 minutes, Goodbye will leave you feeling rewarded for your time, but not feeling good.

Hunky Dory (Marc Evans, Wales, 2011)

If not for an interest in Wales and Shakespeare, I would not have even bothered. While neither Disney nor Glee, it is, after all, about the production of a high school musical. In my book, that does not bode well. But who doesn’t want also to get a bit nostalgic from time to time about 1976?

1976 was a freaky year in Wales: it did not rain, it didn’t storm. I guess that opens the door for inner and interpersonal squalls. A fairly new drama teacher (played by Minnie Driver) is helping her school turn The Tempest into a rock opera using hits of the day. That means David Bowie, ELO, Nick Drake, Pink Floyd, Byrds, etc. The result was pleasantly surprising: they find music that not only sits well with Prospero and company but blends the angst of their adolescence into the mix pretty nicely as well. The music, both vocal and instrumental is actually performed by students and at an impressive caliber. True, we endure the stereotype of a young teacher without enough boundaries pitting her ideals of student “self-expression” against the more staid social studies teacher and her “serious education.” Plus, of course, the coach who steals back his rugby player from the wasteful nonsense going on in the auditorium. After pit falls and monkey wrenches, it all ends, if not the way many characters had hoped, on a high note.

Who’s being derivative? A producer present at the screening noted that the film was written pre-Glee!

The Imposter (Bart Layton, UK 2012)

The last sentence in SIFF’s description reads: “To say that [The Impostor] will generate discussions after viewing is an understatement.” That’s the baited hook that caught me. Seeing a documentary in order to get informed or motivated is fine, but if you value a film that leaves you with as many or more questions afterward, you might be interested in knowing that this British suspense doc is scheduled to open in theaters around the country, and so may be casting a line near you.

The primary questions: What allows a San Antonio, Texas family to believe that a 23-year-old who turns up in Spain is actually their son and brother who went missing only 3 ½ years earlier at age 13? Why isn’t the obviously dyed hair or five-o’clock shadow, let alone the French accent, a cause for doubt? For that matter, how does the young man fool Spanish and American authorities, social services, and almost the FBI? What psychological impulses drive Frederic Bourdin and other such impostors? And whatever happened to the actual missing teen?

The underlying question: as interesting the above questions sound, are they as important as the film’s hype suggests, and therefore worth the effort? The style is quite watchable. Most of the interviews are dramatic recreations with actors.

The Last Friday (Al Jumra al Akheira) (Yahya Alabdallah, Jordan/UAE, 2011)

Yousef has a lot going wrong in his life. But he seems to be managing with a steady emotional keel. But will you identify enough with him so that I can predict you won’t consider it a “waste of your time?” So far, the most meaningful thing I can say about this film is that it comes from Jordan. Very, very, few films come out of Jordan. I was privileged to see the very first, Captain Abu Raed, at SIFF 2008 (see pre-2009) . It had a more engaging central character and plot.

The Mexican Suitcase (Trisha Ziff, Mexico/Spain, 2011)

This award-winning documentary lifts the importance of the recent discovery of missing negatives from the groundbreaking Spanish Civil War photojournalism of Robert Capa, Gerda Taro, and David Seymour. An extremely valuable companion to last year’s feature films tied to that period of history. We Spanish film aficionados are rejoicing—the resistance Spaniard have naturally felt to explore that chapter as well as the insatiable drive of film makers to do so anyway becomes clearer in the light of this film. But anybody interested in the way historical events (particularly wars) live on in people’s lives, will find The Mexican Suitcase very rewarding as well.

The Mirror Never Lies (Kamila Andini, Indonesia, 2011)

You will need some patience for this one. It simply takes a very long time for Pakis to accept that her father is not coming back from his last fishing expedition. The sea is the center of life for her village; but it is also cruel. She won’t accept that it has claimed her father. While some of her friends cater to her hopeless dream of his return, most are cruelly blunt. And while audiences naturally identify with a hurting child, I venture that most of us, when her mother finally moves from persistent reminders to a more forceful gesture, felt like it was about time! The mother, who has been more realistic—she has rented out her husband’s room to a dolphin research scientist—takes her own time, though, in ending her official mourning period in order to welcome the attention of a suitor.

Reasons you may want to be patient with Pakis, her mom, and this slow-moving film: 1) you get to spend the time in a village of thatched shacks stilted over the water—when else do you get that unique privilege? 2) you get to piece together the traditional ceremonies and way of life of these folks. 3) when you aren’t underwater viewing gorgeous coral reefs, you’re watching a beautiful sunset reflecting off the surface of the water. 4) the tiresome metaphor of the mirror—a small gift from her dad in which she expects, over and over again, to see the way to find her way to him—finally gets unstuck at the end of the film and swallowed by the sea itself. And 5) on an even more explicitly spiritual note, you witness evidence that a traditional and sacramental way of life is being receive from the elders and embodied by the next generation of as-yet-untechnologized kids.

The Monk (Dominik Moll, France, 2011)

“Satan only has as much power as you are willing to give him.” That opening scene confessional booth wisdom from Ambrosio, a Spanish monk known for persuasive preaching, prepared me for the plot’s key twists. The scene itself—the monk handling himself well with a complicated confession—prepared me to like Ambrosio, only increasing the let-down later when his insensitivity and hypocrisy reveal themselves. The Monk is based on a popular and controversial late 18th century gothic novel with murder and intrigue at the expense of a judgmental preacher and even nastier prioress. So in the end, it’s not as novel today as it may have been in its own day. And to enjoy it you’ve go to put up with that tired idea that evil is merely synonymous with sexual desire. But if you really like your films dark…

Mourning (Soog) (Morteza Farshbaf, Iran, 2011)

You could easily assume Farshbaf’s first feature was made instead by her teacher, the Iranian master Abbas Kiarostami. It is stripped down to the essentials of it’s simple plotline, but is oh, so far from simple. Like at least two recent Kiarostami films, most dialogue takes place inside of a car. Here, a middle-aged husband and wife are on a several hour journey toward Tehran to return their young nephew. He had been visiting with parents who in the middle of the night get into a nasty fight. Mom takes off, Dad pursues, the kid is left behind.

What happened to the parents gets gradually revealed in conversation. It is a catalyst that also reveals the nature of the uncle and aunt’s relationship in a poignant way. Interrupted by a couple detours and break downs, it’s a long trip but we never get tired of it. As distant observers we are fully engaged simply watching the car get from point A to point B across barren, windblown Iranian landscape. And interior shots give us front row seats to a fascinating drama unfolding on the faces of each character (a very mini-theater, if you will). We are traveling with them, jostled by each pothole, walking to roadside trees to pee.

Whether or not it’s good or bad that Farshbaf’s style, including the car motif, is so much like her teacher’s, I’m not complaining. Her unique contribution to that motif is the rare (for movies) character trait shared by the aunt and uncle. One that creates a powerful front-seat/back-seat dynamic. But one I won’t reveal since so much of this film’s enjoyment comes in putting 2 and 2 together from clues, both verbal and visual. Just know that if your enjoyment depends on tidy endings and resolution of all questions, you’ll need to put that together yourself as well. The journey ends before we get there.

My Dad is Barishnikov (Dmitry Povolotski, Russia, 2011)

While the SIFF description of his Peristroika-set film is misleading and the press hype over-blown, Dmitry Povolotski has managed to create a unique and entertaining debut feature film. In reaction, people are invoking Billy Elliot, but in truth, My Dad Is Baryshnikov, shares much more with the Cadadian gem, Saint Ralph. Unlike Billy, Boris is already a student in a ballet academy. He’s just not very good. Like Ralph, he is skinny, ungainly, and as over-confident in his dancing goal as Ralph with his running. Neither teen posessing film-star attractiveness, both are nonetheless also over-confident with girls. Both are prone to misbehavior. And through all this, both have a charm that wins us to their cause.

Boris also has black-marketing cousins and becomes entranced with a bootleg copy of Baryshnikov’s White Nights. A couple of stray comments from the cousin and his mom lead the lad to believe the exiled dancer is his mysteriously absent father. While everyone else just laughs, the notion is enough to stoke his ambition. And by learning just one trick from his video idol, he manages to keep his dream alive. Barely. For a while.

And by eschewing a formula ending, Boris, or should we say his creator, Povolotski, manages to actually take a jab at Billy Elliot.

North Sea Texas (Noordzee Texas) (Bavo Defurne, Belgium, 2011)

There are too few people in Pim’s world. I’d be depressed, too. Since his mom pretty much neglects him, we’re left with, ummm, the neighbors down the road. Sabrina, age 16 like Pim, is in love with him, and obviously to no avail. Then there’s Sabrina’s brother Gino, a couple years or so older, with whom Pim is in love. Gino leads him on a bit, then ditches him for a French girl. Broken, Pim, turns his attention to an equally disappointing object of infatuation. In yet another homage to Truffaut’s 400 Blows, Pim signals the film’s approaching closure by racing not just toward the sea, but into it, leaving on the beach behind him the burning keepsakes of his desires as well as his clothes. But the later detail, especially, may be a clue. Is this a suicide gesture or an act of rebirth?

Olso, August 31 (Joachim Trier, Norway, 2011)

A day in the life of a recovering drug addict trying to decide whether to make that day a new beginning or a finale. Like an earlier young man in neighboring Denmark, Anders broods over whether “to be, or not to be.” Can an actor’s performance teach us anything true and helpful about the “existential angst” of his character in such a juncture of life? Had I gone into the theater with that question I may have gotten more from it. In other words, I only figured out what this film was about upon reflection afterward. Though watching Anders, in the opening sequence, walk into a lake with a large rock in his arms should’ve been clue enough. If I were to give this film a second chance (or, perhaps give myself a second chance with the film) I would want to search the eyes of Anders Danielsen Lie (the actor shares a name with the main character) for an indication there may be the slightest ray of hope in any of his encounters of the day. I certainly wouldn’t expect to find any in the morning’s group therapy session at the rehab center—what a downer—or in the evening’s empty partying among new friends. I’m not sure, though, I accept Ander’s cynical assumption that his past completely negates his obvious intelligence, thus ruling out any meaningful employment. But if I could intervene in any way, it would be to slap silly his best friend of former days who professes to care intensely that Anders live, yet at a later social gathering brings up an embarrassing and completely banal incident from Anders past for comic effect. Oh, yes, and maybe I’d track down the sister who has severed all ties.

Otelo Burning (Sara Blecher, South Africa, 2011)

Ever seen a tragedy surfing flick? How much of the pre-independence violence within the townships was directly incited by the apartheid government and how much can be traced to power struggles, jealousy, and deception? Belcher conducted years of drama workshops in Lamontville, then with her co-writer, James Whyle, wove some of the residents’ true stories—including those of the first Blacks to try and excel on surfboards—with some of the themes of Shakespeare’s Othelo. There’s a part of the coast named “Dead Man’s Point.” So dangerous that surfers and others generally keep their distance. This movie ventures into similar, seldom explored waters in South Africa’s recent history. How well it survives is up to those who live closer to that coast. Cinematically, it is certainly a unique and intriguing experience with plenty of drama and fine performances.

The Painting (Le Tableau) (Jean-Francois Laguionie, France, 2012)

In this animation, the figures of an unfinished painting are alive and interact with each other. But since they were left in varying states of completion, a caste system has developed: the Sketchies on the bottom, the Allduns on the top, and the Halfies in between. Part morality parable, part love story (star-crossed, of course), part adventure (since a small contingent leaves the painting to explore the studio and other paintings in search of their creator who appears “to have abandoned them”), and part—did you see it coming?—theological quest. Well, some of the Gospel parables themselves suggest possibility of viewing God as an absentee landlord. Nothing deep or definitive, but this could make a unique and pleasant discussion starter.

Sharqiya (Ami Livne, Israel, 2012)

A first feature from a director using non-actors to depict the plight of poor land owners who receive evacuation and demolition orders from the Israeli government. A relationship study of two Beduin brothers. One who, along with his quiet wife raises goats on Negev land that’s been in the family for centuries. The other, the central character, Kamel, who lives with and supports them through his job as a bus-station security guard. Ironically, Kamel is also an Israeli army veteren. With little dialogue but much reality—we feel we are taking each step with them on long trek’s on dry ground and fretting with them over simple tasks like securing water—Sharqiya portrays a simple yet powerful account of a struggle to maintain dignity in a powerless plight.

Simon and the Oaks (Simon Och Ekarna) (Lisa Ohlin, Sweden, 2011)

On the surface you would not think Simon’s life could be that complicated. His world is fairly limited. Two parents. One aunt. Three friends: one from childhood, plus this friend’s father, and the third, appearing only toward the end of the film, a romantic interest from his university classes. Moreover, World War II has just ended, resolving the tension stemming from the fact that his friend and father are Jewish. But the film is based on a popular novel and you know the complexity novelists are capable of creating with just a few characters. The fruit of complexity is plot tension.

Beyond the specter of encroaching Nazis, another major plot tension is rooted in personality traits revealed in the context of geography. About the only part of his rural world in coastal Sweden that captivates Simon is the large oak tree. We first meet him as a boy daydreaming in this tree. It feeds his imaginative bent toward things like history and music. This bent creates a desire to attend school in the city. His woodworking father sees no practical value in such interests, and only drops his refusal to allow school on the condition that Simon relinquish the tree.

Enter the next tension: social class. Simon’s new school friend, Isak, is the son of a wealthy bookseller in the city. Their family environments are polar opposite but get entwined when Isak’s mother gets institutionalized and he is invited to live at Simon’s house in the country. But while Simon is captivated by the books and music his friend’s father can provide, Isak discovers a yen for woodworking, thus Simon’s dad finds a “son” he can actually relate to. Next add a subtler tension in the spark Simon’s mother and Izak’s Dad feel for each other.

What keeps this Simon’s story and not the story of Simon and Isak is another subtle but more important tension arising from a secret concerning the reclusive and eccentric aunt Inga. But that would also be a spoiler if I said more about it.

Secrets, world events, family bonds and frictions. If intrigue and plot tension are enough for you, this well-made film delivers. Questions of individual identity vis a vis family and upbringing are stirred. And I was most captivated by the large oak as a symbol of imagination and aesthetics. Just be aware the branches are a bit bare, however, when it comes to character development. Simon’s poor father, in particular, seems a bit stuck. The presence of the novel is ever obvious: you know some of the minor characters had more to them, for example, and certain plot developments appear as shortcuts. Most significantly, is Simon’s eventual lack of a relationship with Isak part of his self-absorption or merely the result of condensing? A good movie but not quite a movie in its own right.

Toomelah (Ivan Sen, Australia, 2011)

  In one of the final scenes, 10 year old Daniel sits down against his grandmother. After a moment she puts her arm around him. That act is so significant, I should’ve preceeded my opening sentence with a spoiler alert. It is the very first time we see a human touch another. I do not recall the publicity photo above in any scene of the movie.

The title comes from the aboriginal community where the story takes place. But, aside from drug dealing, the community really only exists in the historical pictures on the school wall. In other words this film is bleak. Streets are void of activity. Houses are void of families. Families are void of relationships. Faces are void of expression. Conversations are void of language. Questions are answered in almost identical terms, with slightly different intonation. The whole film contains a vocabulary of about 50 words. A good percentage of those are derogatory and crass.

In one positive linguistic exception standing out in contrast, elders teach the kids the ancestral jingo at school. The film, however, keeps the presence of the school minimal and unassuming. When Daniel chooses to walk out of it at the film’s beginning and hooks up with the drug dealers, there are no consequences.

In the end when drug dealing goes awry, Daniel walks back into the school and observes from a distance. Will he stay? Non-actor Daniel Connors gives a fairly impressive portrayal in the central role. I’m not sure I enjoyed the film as much as they did at UNESCO and the Vladivostock Film Festival. Whether you do depends on whether you can find sufficient hope in his understated facial expressions. Or whether the eyes of any 10 year old are sufficient through which to view his bleak world.

Volcano (Eldfjall) (Rúnar Rúnarsson, Iceland, Denmark, 2011)

You want to figure out the significance of the title. The eruption is merely shown at the beginning as a historical prequel, then referred to only once in passing. The film itself is a character study. One that works like a crossword puzzle. There’s a central word which is key to everything else, yet the writer/director only offers vague clues. At the end, things become clearer; you finally see the “word” and all the others fall into place. You finally grasp how an old overweight curmudgeon of a custodian can change so radically into a tender caregiver when his wife suffers a stroke and coma. How a gruff self-centered bastard can begin to value the life of his grandson. Before, Hannes and wife Anna got along better when there were closed doors between them. Before, Hannes saw his grandchildren as nuisances, refusing to alter his smoking habits in their presence, speaking to them only in chastisement. Until the final two scenes you’re not sure you believe in such a conversion of disposition. Until the final two scenes you may not know what the title and opening scene have to do with anything.

One mild disappointment was the appearance of the film. I know Iceland can be gray, but better color tone would’ve been nice. Volcano does offer another, rarer form of visual treat: senior citizens getting quite affectionate in bed. And as you might begin to expect, as Anna’s coma is permanent and pain-ridden, issues of medical ethics arise. An award winner in Montreal, etc.