PSIFF 2014: MOTHER, I LOVE YOU

Raymond (Kristofers Konovalovs) in Mother, I Love You.

False word to your mother

By Don Simpson

Like most 12-year-old boys, Raymond (Kristofers Konovalovs) does not really think before he does things, rather he acts upon naive impulses that seem to be fueled solely by hormones. Raised by a single mother (Vita Varpina) who works as a doctor at a birthing center, Raymond is adequately loved and cared for, so he is not necessarily acting out for attention. She gives Raymond all of the freedom that he desires, which might be a bit too much; but, if anything, Raymond is probably just bored.

Raymond spends most of his free time with his best friend, Peteris (Matiss Livcans), a classmate from a less privileged pedigree. When the two boys are together, their decisions grow increasingly reckless. Peteris’ mother (Indra Brike) works as a cleaning lady, which gives Peteris uninhibited access into her clients’ homes. When Raymond gains possession of a key, he begins to use that client’s apartment as a home away from home, for no other reason than because he can.

It is not long before Raymond finds his bad choices snowballing hopelessly towards a point of no return. He tries to cover-up each of his crimes with one lie after another. In retrospect, some of Raymond’s actions may seem ridiculously absurd, but writer-director Janis Nords sets up each event so perfectly that Raymond’s decisions make perfect sense as they are occurring. As Nords slowly reveals the web of lies that Raymond’s mother has crafted for herself, a window into Raymond’s thought processes opens wide. It seems as though Raymond might have learned how to lie from his mother’s own example.

Mother, I Love You is Latvia's Oscar submission for Best Film in a Foreign Language.

PSIFF 2014: THE GREAT PASSAGE

A scene from The Great Passage.

If on a winter's night a computer

By Don Simpson

A large publisher’s Dictionary Editorial Department finds itself on the brink of extinction in 1995 as new technologies such as laptops and mobile telephones become more commonplace in everyday households. The Internet is on the verge of explosion and emails are about to replace handwritten letters as the primary form of “written” communication. Prognosticating that the world is about to become very used to communicating, researching and learning via their sparkly new electronic devices, the head of the department (Go Kato) wants to develop a new kind of dictionary.

The titular dictionary of his dreams will be Japan’s first to capture youth culture’s lexicon, embracing modern day mutilations of the Japanese language — slang words, modern expressions and acronyms — while skillfully providing the proper roots and definitions for words alongside the popular-yet-incorrect new meanings.

Dictionaries can take decades to develop, and before they commence this daunting task, the department’s longtime chief editor (Kaoru Kobayashi) wants to retire in order to care for his ailing wife. The problem is, in this trendy new world of technological innovation, no one wants to take on a boring, decade-spanning project like a dictionary — you might then see a photo of the Dictionary Editorial Department beside the definition of “uncool,” “nerdy” or “lame.”

Enter Majime (Ryûhei Matsuda), a socially awkward and frigidly shy young company employee who is currently mismatched in the Advertising Department. Armed with a degree in Linguistics and an unwavering love for language, Majime appears as the ideal candidate to take on the “modern living dictionary.”

As the baton is passed to Majime at work, the perspective of Yûya Ishii’s The Great Passage quickly shifts to follow Majime. We observe as a complete immersion into his work allows Majime to mature into a more confident person. Majime begins to develop an unlikely new friendship with a loud and obnoxious co-worker (Jô Odagiri) who slowly drags him out of his shell. It is not long before Majime even develops a romantic interest in his landlady’s granddaughter (Aoi Miyazaki), thus finally realizing the true meaning of love.

Time in the Dictionary Editorial Department passes excruciatingly slowly, so Ishii is forced to take significant leaps in the timeline. While this causes the narrative to feel disjointed and unstructured, it does allow for us to witness the changes in Majime’s persona over a longer period of time. Just as the purpose of the new dictionary is to allow its words the opportunity to establish a more natural dialog with readers, Majime learns how to use his internalized verbosity to express himself verbally.

It is not without bitter irony that a majority of press about Japan’s entry for 2013′s foreign-language Oscar will be consumed online. As the world continues to drift farther away from the printed word, Ishii’s The Great Passage preaches to us about the power of words on paper. Though their new dictionary will only capture a snapshot of an ever-[de]evolving language, there is an undeniable permanence to the printed and bound nature of its publication. For Majime, turning the pages of a book with the perfect paper stock is practically an orgasmic experience; the touch of the paper establishes an incomparable connection between the reader and the publication.

PSIFF 2014: OF HORSES AND MEN

A scene from Of Horses and Men.

Human-ing around

By Don Simpson

An Icelandic saga of sorts, Benedikt Erlingsson’s Of Horses and Men is structured as a series of loosely intertwining parables about horses and the rural community whose lives revolve around them. These stories seem like they probably might have possessed some greater moral purpose at one time, but the points have since worn away with the passage of time; the tall tales have grown so exaggerated and romanticized, they hardly seem to be rooted in truth at this point. But I don’t know, maybe a rider really has found themselves practically sandwiched between a horny stallion and a mare in heat and lived to tell the embarrassing story -- regardless it certainly makes for entertaining cinema.

Equally absurd is a drunkard who rides a horse out to sea to purchase two jugs of a potent elixir from a passing ship, or a novice rider who is forced to recreate the Luke Skywalker tauntaun scene in order to survive a frigid night. While each vignette of this visually poetic film seems like it could be a part of a grand absurdist farce, the tone is so subtle that the comedy quickly mutates into stoic seriousness, especially when told against the dramatic natural environments of Iceland that are captured with such astoundingly magnificent cinematography by Bergsteinn Björgúlfsson.

Juxtaposed with the beauty and power of the horses, the townspeople mostly seem to be idiotic mortals who repeatedly fall prey to desire, greed and anger. The horses closely observe the tomfoolery of the humans and even though their judgments (or, lack thereof) remain unknown, Erlingsson seems to be telling the sprawling narrative from their perspective. Unfortunately, the horses must sometimes shoulder the punishment for human stupidity, making this Iceland's Oscar submission for best foreign language film an occasionally difficult film to stomach -- thought it is important to note that no horses were hurt during the making of this film.

PSIFF 2013: CAUGHT IN THE WEB

Ye Lanqiu (Yuanyaun Gao) in Caught in the Web.

Spinning yarns

By Miranda Inganni

Caught in the Web tells the tale of a terminally ill woman’s online character assassination in director Chen Kaige’s (Farewell My Concubine) latest film.

One day, budding news reporter Yang Jiaqi (Luodan Wang) secretly records on her phone a seemingly rude and selfish woman on a bus. Through Jiaqi’s cousin’s girlfriend (and Jiaqi’s housemate), Chen Ruoxi (Chen Yao) -- a young woman establishing herself as a reporter -- the video goes viral and becomes the topic of the day. Unbeknown to them, the video’s subject, Ye Lanqiu (Yuanyuan Gao), has just learned that she has advanced lymphatic cancer.

Lanqiu becomes an Internet villain overnight. Known simply as “Sunglasses Girl,” until her jealous colleague identifies her online, the scandal sends Lanqiu into hiding, but not until Jiaqi and her cousin, Yang Shoucheng (Mark Chao) film Lanqiu’s sincere apology for the ordeal.

In the meantime, Lanqiu has asked her boss, company president Shen Liushu (Xuegi Wang) for a loan and time off from her executive assistant position. Unfortunately for all involved, Mr. Shen’s wife (Chen Hong) interrupts the tearful moment and misreads the situation.

Lanqiu ends up hiring Shoucheng to ostensibly protect her from herself and to experience as much as possible out of the time that she has left.

And that’s only the first part of this China's most recent Oscar submission for Best Film in a Foreign Language. Whew!

With more plot twists and turns than any historic (or histrionic) romance, Caught in the Web is entertaining and intriguing. Mrs. Shen finds herself in a loveless marriage to a husband who relishes his power more than his wife or wealth. Mr. Shen enjoys manipulating the lives of those who he believes have caused him some harm, including his wife. Ruoxi will stop at nothing to establish her career in the industry while Jiaqi merely wants to play ball in the big league. Shoucheng wants to be a loyal boyfriend to Ruoxi, but finds himself falling for Lanqiu. Lanqiu on the other hand, as the only one who knows that her time is limited, doesn’t want to allow herself to get too close to anyone, even at the cost of her own reputation.

The performances throughout this drama/comedy are equally as excellent as the levels of intrigue. The human capacity for a knee-jerk response to even perceived gossip is an overwhelming theme to Caught in the Web, as is the point that anyone at any time can be destroyed by the power of the inter-webs.

 

PSIFF 2013: KON-TIKI

A scene from Kon-Tiki.

No our way

ByMiranda Inganni

On the Academy’s short list for Best Film in a Foreign Language, Norway’s Kon-Tiki takes viewers back to 1947 when Norwegian explorer Thor Heyerdahl (Pal Sverre Hagen) and five other men travelled 4300 nautical miles across the Pacific Ocean on a balsawood raft.

A visionary who insisted Polynesia was first found by indigenous people from South America (namely, Peruvians) Heyerdahl could not convince anyone that the much-held notion that Asians from the East founded and populated the area was incorrect. If he wanted scientists, journalists and the world to take him seriously, he would have to make the journey they made some 1500 years ago using the same materials. Proving to the world that his theory was correct was worth risking everything to Heyerdahl and so they set sail from Peru.

Once on their way, the six men have to face the reality of their journey and the real possibility that they might not survive, or end up nowhere near their destination. Between fights, fending off sharks and men falling overboard, Heyerdahl documents the trip (the resulting documentary film won the Academy Award in 1950).

While there are a few overly dramatic moments and a few unnecessary CGI shots, co-directors Espen Sandberg and Joachim Ronning’s Kon-Tikiis an extravagant, energetic and entertaining film depicting an epic historical journey.

 

PSIFF 2013: JUST THE WIND

Birdy (Katalin Toldi) in Just the Wind.

Branded outsiders

By Miranda Inganni

A Romani neighborhood is the target of violent attacks in this year’s Oscar entry from Hungary.

Influenced by a real racist crime spree that occurred in a Romani (AKA gypsy) neighborhood in Hungary in 2008-2009, Just the Wind (Csak a szél) is a “day in the life of” tale of a family similar to the one that was brutally murdered. It focuses on hard working Birdy (Katalin Toldi) and her two children -- adolescent Anna (Gyöngyi Lendvai) and not-quite teenage son, Rio (Lajos Sarkany).

Anna is studious, dutiful and keeps her head down – sometimes to a fault. Rio is sinewy, defiant and breezy, skipping school to stock his secret emergency bunker. Just what he is expecting is unclear, but he is a boy prepared. He steals from nearby houses, including the one of the recently murdered family -- bloodstains still seemingly dripping on the walls -- but is thoughtful enough to include items, such as nail polish, for Anna. (It’s during this break-in that he overhears two policemen discussing what kind of Romani are the “right” ones to kill.) Brassy Birdy works two manual labor jobs and not only cares for her children, but also her father (Gyorgy Toldi), who is unable to care for himself. The four live together in close, dark quarters with no running water. With the tightknit community on high alert after the viscous attacks, Birdy and her family try to go about their day and night like nothing has changed. But it has.

Director Benedek Fliegauf’s Just the Windsinks its teeth into the true grit of this family’s life for one day, bouncing between each one’s activities for that day. The three main actors, each of who is making their movie debut, are remarkably adept at bringing their characters to life. Sadly, the plight of this family (as is true of so many Romani families) is a tragic one.

Just the Wind is as tense as it is intense. Its somber realism is jarring, but telling at least this tale of Hungary’s largest minority is a necessary one.

FILM REVIEW: THE CLOWN

A scene from The Clown.

Go with what you know

By Miranda Inganni

Brazil’s submission to the 85^th Academy Awards is a sweet and thoughtful, almost quiet film.  Unlike many Brazilian usually arriving on these shores -- i.e, City of God, Elite Squad, Manda Bala, -- there is no violence, no sex, no drugs, no gangs or guns here. The Clown (O Palhaço) tells the story of a clown comedy duo of father, Valdemar (Paulo José), and grown son, Benjamin (Mello), as they lead their travelling circus troupe to villages to entertain the locals.

Directed and co-written by Selton Mello, The Clown also stars Mello as Benjamin, a clown unsure of his identity, figuratively and literally (he has no social security number or proof of residence) and he cannot find anyone who makes him laugh. Feeling that his talents may lie outside of their Circus Esperanza (Circus of Hope), sad clown Benjamin sets off in search of another life.

Mello is an accomplished actor, writer and director and his performance in The Clown is understated and sincere. Additionally, he has surrounded himself with a superb cast, including José as his father and Larissa Manoela as the precociously tuned-in Guilhermina.

While the movie takes its time introducing the audience to the players and then resolves the film a little too abruptly at the end, the journey is worth taking with Benjamin and his friends.

 

FILM REVIEW: MISS BALA

Laura (Stephanie Sigman) in Miss Bala.

A girl in trouble can be a permanent thing

By Ed Rampell

Stylish cinematography, deft direction and edgy storylines characterize the New Mexican Cinema spearheaded by creative forces such as actors Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna, who, appropriately, share producing credits for this wave’s latest release north of the border, Miss Bala, Mexico’s official Oscar entry.

Mexico’s drug wars – which have reportedly claimed up to 50,000 lives in the past few years -- are providing grist for movie mills, from this crime noir directed and co-written by Gerardo Naranja to Oliver Stone’s upcoming Savages. In Miss Bala Laura Guerreo (stunning Sonora-born Stephanie Sigman) is a typical 23-year-old senorita in Tijuana who has nothing to do with crime and decides to enter the Miss Baja beauty pageant. This leads to her unintentionally becoming ensnared in extremely violent gang warfare that pits the ironically named La Estrella (“The Star”) gangsters against the DEA, the Federales and more, with the hapless, helpless Laura caught in the crossfire.

During her ordeal, which includes bombings, trafficking, kidnapping and gunplay galore, the terrified Laura is often curiously passive. At times it seems as if this innocent bystander doesn’t act on opportunities to escape, take the money and run, resist rape, etc. Maybe Laura fears that resistance is futile and means certain death? Perhaps Laura and her inner paralysis symbolizes the law abiding Mexican masses who are caught up in this criminal tidal wave, overwhelmed and unsure as to what to do and how to react?

Throughout the trials and tribulations they visit upon her, rather amazingly, gang chief Lino Valdez (Noe Hernandez) and his fellow gangbangers protect the embattled Laura. They also override the rejection of her beauty contest application, paving the way for the lovely Laura to compete. Why? There’s a method to their madness, which in the interests of avoiding plot spoilers your mum’s-the-word reviewer won’t reveal here. However, suffice it to say that the title of the film, Miss Bala -- which translates into English as “Miss Bullet” -- seems to ironically comment on the Miss Baja beauty pageant, and perhaps on the state of beleaguered Mexico’s tourism industry. (Although I must say that I visited the Riviera Maya near Cancun last year and saw no signs of the drug wars in that part of the country.)

In addition to Sigman's bewildered, perplexed, put-upon performance and sensuous presence as a senorita in peril, what I enjoyed most about Miss Bala is its scintillating cinematography. Mátyás Erdély’s camera frequently moves, evoking what is the essence of motion pictures, moving pictures, movies: Movement at 24 frames per second. However, this director of photography’s camerawork is never frenetic, nor is Miss Bala’s violence mindlessly gratuitous, unlike the cinematography and violence in, say, The Adventures of Tintin. I suspect that Steven Spielberg completely pummeled all of the charm out of Herge’s comic strip, just as he vandalized James M. Barrie’s Peter Pan with another overblown, pointless production in 1991. For a fraction of Mr. Spielberg’s budget, Senor Naranja has created a far superior action flick minus 3D imagery, which captures a moment in time when much of a nation is at war with itself, fuelled by drugs and their buyers in El Norte.

Miss Bala is one of the best, most exciting crime pictures I’ve seen since last year’s Congo-set Viva Riva! Mexico’s cinema has become so hot that even Will Ferrell is getting into the act, starring in the forthcoming genre spoof Casa de mi Padre -- with, but of course, the protean Bernal and Luna. The Mexican cinema has come a long way since Wallace Beery starred as Pancho in the 1934 Hollywood-made, Mexico-shot Viva Villa! which recently played on a double bill at the New Beverly Cinema with the Paul Muni, Bette Davis 1939 classic Juarez, and were presented by Hispanic film historian Luis Reyes. Viva Mexico’s film revolution!

  

  

LALIFF 2011: THE LIFE OF FISH

Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) in The Life of Fish.

Chile, mon amour

By Don Simpson

Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) is a 30-something Chilean-born travel writer who now finds himself based in Berlin. Back in Santiago after being away for 10 years, Andrés has returned to the city of his youth long enough to take care of some personal business, including dropping by a birthday party. While his friends are all married with children, they attack (if not partially out of jealousy) Andrés’ free-wheeling bachelorhood. A constant analogy that other characters make is that Andrés has lived his entire life like a tourist or day-tripper, never becoming too attached to his surroundings; but other than his career’s inherent allusion of freedom, Andrés does not seem too keen on living his life in airports, airplanes and hotels.

It soon becomes apparent that Andrés left something — specifically someone — behind when he moved away from Santiago 10 years ago. That certain someone is Bea (Blanca Lewin), who has since moved on with her life. But eventually, Andrés and Bea start talking about what might have been. The discussion progresses to a point that Bea appears to be considering running off to Berlin with Andrés, but to tell you anything more would be spoiling way too much.

Filmed in one location — a single family home in Santiago — The Life of Fish apparently adopts its title from the fish tanks that the camera often finds itself peering through. The characters are perceived to be caged specimens, trapped on the silver screen with the audience watching and listening to even their most intimate discussions. This is where writer-director Matías Bize truly succeeds, as the scenarios play out like home movies with extremely natural dialogue and actions. Bize also seems to specialize in frank discussions about sex — or at least “mature situations”, as the MPAA would deem them. Come to think of it, to call Bize the Chilean Joe Swanberg would probably not be too far of a stretch.

Unfortunately, there is just something about the production values of The Life of Fish — the cinematography and/or lighting, as well as the sound recording — that just screams Latin American soap opera to me. That said, this Chilean Oscar entry for Best Film in a Foreign Language is definitely the best Latin American soap opera I have ever watched. Admittedly, my enjoyment is at least partially related to the similarities (purely non-physical) between myself and Andrés.

DVD REVIEW: ILLEGAL

A scene from Illégal.

Belgium ail

By Don Simpson

A former French teacher in Russia, Tania (Anne Coesens), and her son, Ivan (Alexandre Gontcharov), have come to live in Belgium as illegal immigrants. Tania must rely on her corrupt landlord, Mr. Nowak (Tomasz Bialkowski), to provide her with an apartment as well as forged documents so that she can work as a janitor.

Tania knows that this charade will not last forever but continues to hold on to the hope that the Belgian government will approve her request for permanent residence. When Tania receives the letter from the Belgian government officially declining her request, she drowns her sorrows in vodka -- the vodka serves a dual purpose of dulling the pain as she subsequently burns her fingerprints off with an iron (an act that serves as a clue to the audience that Tania knows that her arrest is imminent).

It is not much longer before Tania is captured by the police and imprisoned in a holding facility for illegal immigrants. Ivan is kept free and safe by Tania’s friend, Zina (Olga Zhdanova). Unwilling to divulge her true identity -- to avoid deportation and to keep Ivan safe -- Tania attempts to navigate her way back to Ivan and freedom.

Recently Belgium's Oscar entry for Best Film in a Foreign Language, it is not without irony that Film Movement scheduled the DVD release of Illégal the day after Independence Day in the United States, as writer-director Olivier Masset-Depasse’s film presents an age old international dilemma that continues to strip human beings of their personal freedoms. Unfortunately, Masset-Depasse’s only explanation of why we should discontinue the jailing of innocent people -- who are merely performing their integral yet unsatisfying and grossly underpaid roles in the capitalist system -- is the ridiculous over-zealousness of the government officials in chasing down and punishing undocumented immigrants. By not offering any justification for Tania’s move from Russia -- where she was presumably well-educated and adequately employed as a teacher -- to Belgium -- where she is forced to the bottom of the employment pool -- Masset-Depasse fails to convince us why Tania should be granted the Belgian residence papers that she hopelessly desires. In his failure to effectively explain Tania’s situation, Masset-Depasse seems to be suggesting that anyone should be able to live and work anywhere in the world -- an extreme and overly idealistic suggestion that could only work if we were living in a Utopian fantasy world. Under our current economic environment, this solution is totally unfeasible.

Masset-Depasse sacrifices a fruitful discussion on immigration issues in lieu of a profound feminist manifesto in which he focuses on the masculinity of the government officials and the femininity of the captives. Tania is a woman helplessly struggling to survive in an oppressive world ruled by violent and fear-mongering men. The women whom Tania encounters -- including a few female guards -- are incredibly supportive and helpful, while the men are all close-minded and one-dimensional. It is also not without purpose that Ivan is, for all intents and purposes, fatherless. Being raised solely by women provides Ivan with the hope of developing into a well-rounded and sympathetic human being, rather than an angry and pigheaded man.

FILM REVIEW: BRIDE FLIGHT

Frank (Waldemar Torenstra) and Esther (Anna Drjver) in Bride Flight.

Thresh beholdened

By Ed Rampell

Ben Sombogaart’s Bride Flight is a highly recommended adult movie. By this, I don’t mean that it’s porn – although it does have some eroticism and a glorious nude scene. Rather, I simply mean that this foreign film has mature subject matter and is for grownups who think. Bride Flight also has a fairly complex form that requires a sustained attention span, so it’s definitely not for mall rats intent on mindless action and escapism on multiplex screens. 

As its name implies, Bride Flight is indeed about wives-to-be who fly on the so-called “Last Great Air Race” from Europe to New Zealand back in 1953, when these globe straddling jaunts were very big adventures. The passengers aboard the KLM carrier that participated in and won this real life aerial contest included 40 Dutch immigrants, mostly women seeking to escape post-WWII Holland’s hardships by starting new lives at Christchurch, where their Dutch fiancés awaited them. A pretty offbeat premise, as far as plots are concerned.

The film focuses on three women and a man on this flight that, back in the 1950s, took days to make. Frank touches the lives of the trio, and although the émigrés’ existences become intertwined in their adapted country, they go on to lead very separate lives, yet remain intimately bound. In terms of Bride Flight’s complexity, it effortlessly shifts cinematically from past to present, so the romantic saga goes back and forth from the young to the aged immigrants. The technique requires viewers to focus on the unfolding saga, the way that Alain Resnais’ circa 1960 classics Last Year at Marienbad and Hiroshima, Mon Amour likewise bent time and continuity. 

Bride Flight therefore has two actors playing each major character -- 20-somethings for the new arrivals, seniors for the present day Dutch transplants. American audiences will be most familiar with the rugged Dutch action hero Rutger Hauer (1982’s Blade Runner, 2005’s Batman Begins, this year’s Hobo With a Shotgun) who portrays Frank. Waldemar Torenstra plays young Frank. Ada has married a religious zealot and is portrayed by nubile Karina Smulders, whose smoldering sex scene with Frank lights up the screen. Pleuni Touw depicts the older Ada.

As young Marjorie, Elise Schaap’s character makes the best marriage of the trio, although life tosses her a curveball, causing her to become obsessive and possessive. Petra Laseur plays petulant Marjorie as an older and perhaps wiser lady. Probably the most interesting character is Esther (Anna Drjver), a Jew who, unlike her family members, survived the Holocaust, although its lingering, PTSD-like effects continue, understandably, to haunt Esther. 

Esther retains a strong individualistic streak and along with the jealous Marjorie, shares a “deep dark secret.” Esther is a fashion designer. (Interestingly, Drjver is actually a runway model, so talk about tailor-made casting.) While movies and TV shows heavily favor certain professions -- crime fighters, doctors, journalists, attorneys and the like -- Frank’s career path is fairly unusual for motion picture protagonists, and another sign as to what an outstandingly unusual film Bride Flight is. 

Bride Flight's location shooting in New Zealand enhances the overall production, which is handsome to behold and drink in. Like most movies set and/or shot in the South Seas, the indigenous Islanders and their Islands serve mainly as backdrop for the really important doings of the Caucasoid stars. However, in Bride Flight it’s not even New Zealand’s dominant majority culture of white people or “Pakehas” of English origin who are featured; it’s a Dutch minority.

Nevertheless, this 130-minute, partially subtitled film is an excellent, well-crafted feature for auds who prefer their movies mature. Bride Flight is a realistic slice of life, albeit in an unusual milieu. Director Sombogaart’s Twin Sisters was nominated for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar in 2004, and gazing into my crystal ball, I predict the same for Bride Flight, which has also earned some richly deserved prizes on the film festival circuit. Bride Flight, like fine wines, shows that films taste better when aged.

 

  

 

DVD REVIEW: IF I WANT TO WHISTLE, I WHISTLE

A scene from If I Want to Whistle, I Whistle.

While a jerk

By Don Simpson

Silviu (George Pistereanu) is an 18-year-old who has spent the last four years of his life in a ramshackle juvenile facility somewhere in the Romanian countryside. He is only a couple weeks away from freedom when his younger brother (Marian Bratu) drops by for a surprise visit with news that their absentee mother (Clara Voda) has reappeared back at home. Their mother intends to whisk Silviu’s brother off to Italy before Silviu’s release date and that plan does not bode well with Silviu. Up until this point, Silviu has built up a good reputation in prison; but a desperate urge to protect his younger brother is triggered, and Silviu begins crossing lines -- literally and figuratively -- that should never be crossed, especially if you are hoping to get out of juvie in two weeks.

Around the same time, an attractive female college student, Ana (Ada Condeescu), arrives at the prison to interview Silviu as part of a sociology research project. Silviu is instantly smitten with Ana -- so much so that he dreams of a future in which he picks up Ana from work and they fuck each other’s brains out in the car. Ah, the mind of a young romantic in love.

We learn very little of Silviu's family back-story -- and that is only during Silviu's brief yet fiery exchanges with his mother. We never learn why his mother left home many years ago or why Silviu is in prison, only that Silviu blames his mother for his current incarceration. We know that Silviu has forged his own moral compass and only abides by rules and logic that he deems worthy. As the title of the film suggests, Silviu will do what he wants when he wants to do it and Silviu throws one hell of a tantrum when things do not go his way. 

All of Silviu's choices supposedly revolve around the safety and well-being of his younger brother, but what good is Silviu's stint in juvie doing his brother? Who has been raising and caring for Silviu's brother during the last four years? And who will care for his younger brother if Silviu's sentence is lengthened for any of the risky choices that he is making? Silviu is willing to throw his own life away in order to keep his brother away from his mother, but what good would it do his younger brother to have no parent or older sibling to care for him? 

First-timewriter-director Florin Serban's adaptation of Andreea Valean's stage play is a taut and lean example of the Romanian social-realist style of filmmaking. If I Want To Whistle, I Whistle is an incredibly simple and unpretentious story, but maybe to a fault. Maybe if we knew a little more about Silviu's past and his younger brother's current situation, it would be easier to understand his motives? As it stands, Silviu comes off as a selfish, tunnel-visioned idiot who is unable to fathom the bigger picture. No matter how hard Serban tries, it will be very difficult to get an audience to sympathize with a character like Silviu.  

If I Want To Whistle, I Whistle won the Silver Bear and the Alfred Bauer Award at the 2010 Berlin Film Festival and was Romania’s official entry for the Academy Award.

NBFF 2011: THE LIFE OF FISH

Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) in The Life of Fish.

Moments across childhood rooms

By John Esther

When he was younger, Andrés (Santiago Cabrera) had close friends, a special girl named Bea (Blanca Lewin) and a general sense of communal security. But that was more than 10 years ago. Andrés is now 33, living abroad, working around the world as a travel writer and living a life of noncommittal relationships – most likely constantly communicating in a language not his first (or theirs).

In general, Andrés probably enjoys his modus vivendi, but when the expatriate returns home, what he left behind drowns him in a seductive/reductive whirlpool of remorse and regretful moments.

Set in near-real time, and shot in a singular Santiago, Chilé home, Andrés attends a birthday party he is already trying to leave as the film starts. Yet, there is no exit. Other people, at least the memories associated with them, are heaven and hell. As Andrés meets aged persons of times past, he realizes how different his life has become from those he knew when he was young. They have kids, he has travel plans. They live where they grew up whereas he currently resides in Berlin, Germany. Their narratives continue to grow together as his is a monologue signifying a lack of lifetime companionship. He has spread up and out; they have sprawled sideways.

While many moments pang the life and losses of Andrés' heart, nothing seems to hurt him more – even more than the death of a dear mutual friend – than letting Bea go. He wants her back and maybe she wants him, too, but life's grand amorous opportunities are precious few.

Suggesting we all live inside our own aquariums -- at varying, accreting external levels -- writer-director Matías Bize's exquisite film also manages to summon the interior emotions of his characters. The power of suggestion found in The Life of Fish sometimes reaches Bressonian heights, only Bize uses the faces of some good, and good looking, actors to convey that which is not being said, but is definitely present. And the moment flees.

A fine film in general, Chilé's recent Oscar submission for Best Foreign Language Film will particularly poke (pain?) those who have traveled the more unfamiliar roads, whereupon you left behind the spaces people still dear to you continue to dwell in and maintain within and without you.

FILM REVIEW: INCENDIES

Nawal (Lubna Azabal) in Incendies.

Before the Rain

By Don Simpson

After their mother Nawal’s (Lubna Azabal) death, twins Jeanne (Mélissa Désormeaux-Poulin) and Simon (Maxim Gaudette) are faced with a puzzle that they must solve in order to fulfill their mother’s last will and testament. According to their mother’s most recent employer (Rémy Girard) — a notary who was designated as the will’s executor — two letters must be delivered, one to their father and one to their brother. This is a puzzle because Jeanne and Simon assumed that their father was long dead and this is the first time that they have ever heard about the existence of any siblings.

Simon wants nothing at all to do with their lunatic mother’s crazy mind games, so it is Jeanne (quite purposefully a mathematician, therefore a staunch believer in absolute answers) who embarks upon the journey from Montreal to the fictional city of Daresh — which is located in an unnamed Middle Eastern nation (probably Lebanon) — in search of their family’s roots and to fulfill their mother’s postmortem wishes. As Jeanne digs deeper into Nawal’s past she discovers a woman she never knew existed. For starters, Jeanne discovers that Nawal’s memory is very much alive in Daresh — but not in a good way — as Jeanne is told by the local women, “You are not welcome here.” Not a good start. Meanwhile, the audience witnesses Nawal’s past by way of flashbacks, causing the past and the present to run parallel to each other in the context of the film's narrative.

Nawal’s life as a Christian living in the Middle East is marred by tragedy: she witnesses the murder of her unborn child’s father at the hands of her own family; she gives birth to the child, whom she then has to abandon immediately; she is the lone survivor after a bus of Muslim women is shot up and burned by Christian nationalists (who flaunt images of the Virgin Mary on their machine guns -- oh, the irony); she assassinates her homeland’s Christian nationalist leader; she endures endless rapings, by the same prison guard, while incarcerated in prison.

By never naming the Middle Eastern nation, writer-director Denis Villeneuve purposefully avoids any sense of historical specificity; he cares more about focusing on the endless cycles of violence in the Middle East. Villeneuve takes aim specifically at the religious influences on the violence. Nawal is a modern woman of Christian descent in an Arabic-speaking country. As a direct result of the fate of her baby and baby-daddy, Nawal grows to hate that the nationalist cause is being waged in the name of Christianity. The personal becomes political as Nawal joins the Muslim opposition’s militia and becomes a political assassin in the hope of retrieving her son (who has presumably been kidnapped by Muslim soldiers during a raid on the Christian orphanage in which he was held). To further signify her wavering religious identity and allegiance, Nawal alternates between wearing a Christian cross and a Muslim head scarf -- depending on which religion plays to her advantage at that specific moment in time.

It is worth mentioning that Villeneuve’s Oscar-nominated film (it lost to In a Better World) -- which was adapted from Wajdi Mouawad’s stage play of the same title -- opens as young Middle Eastern boys queue up to have their heads shaved, signaling their initialization as soldiers, to the soundtrack of Radiohead’s “You and Whose Army”. This is a brilliant use of “You and Whose Army." Other Radiohead tunes are found sprinkled throughout Incendies, but none work quite as well as this one.