SUNDANCE 2013: THE FUTURE

Maciste (Rutger Hauer) in The Future.

Looking ahead

By Don Simpson

The Future (Il Futuro) had me at the opening homage to Stanley Kubrick's The Shining, with a yellow Fiat taking the place of the iconic Volkswagen Beetle. As it turns out, that Fiat is the very vessel in which Bianca (Manuela Martelli) and Tomas' (Luigi Ciardo) parents die, leaving Bianca and Tomas to manage their
home in Rome.

Bianca is old enough to become Tomas' guardian and they are able to get money from their father's trust while their mother's funds are inexplicably tied up. Bianca is still forced to find a job to supplement the trust funds and Tomas willingly volunteers at the gym in exchange for being able to work out there. It is at the gym that Tomas meets two strange friends (Nicolas Vaporidis, Alessandro Giallocosta). Soon Bianca and Tomas are entwined in a risky scheme that involves a former Mr. Universe-cum-actor who goes by the name of his most famous character, Maciste (Rutger Hauer).

As Chilean director Alicia Scherson's title soon suggests, Bianca and Tomas' present is quite grim; it is only their future that holds promise. The Future exists in a surreal fugue state in which strange events are explained by the siblings' damaged psychological state after their parents' catastrophic accident. Time has become blurred and they see things much differently -- bright lights blast through their windows all night long and their parents' crushed yellow Fiat is now grey.

AFI 2011: CARRE BLANC

Philippe (Majid Hives) in Carré Blanc.

Scared new world

By Don Simpson

When he was just a boy, the mother (Fejria Deliba) of Philippe (Majid Hives) took a swan dive from balcony of their nondescript cement high rise flat. Her reasoning behind doing so was that this act would toughen Philippe and prepare him for the brutal Social Darwinian world outside. Philippe is ushered off to a State-run boarding school where orphans are molded (read: conformed) into productive members of society. This is where Philippe meets his one and only friend, Marie (Adèle Exarchopoulos), in this cruel world where friendship is rapidly becoming extinct.

Years later we find the adult Philippe (Sami Bouajila) working for the State as an interrogator/indoctrinator. He “trains” people via performance tests to become better (read: conformed) citizens. In one such test, he tells his subjects to stand up against a wall, then walk backwards. The test is like a riddle that none of Philippe’s clients seem to be able to conquer yet the solution is so simple once it is revealed by Philippe. Another test is less simple — it entails studying how long the subjects will “willingly” electrocute themselves. Though it is never explained, it seems as though part of Philippe’s role might be to separate society’s mindless sheep from the potential herdsmen.

At some point in the past, Philippe married Marie (Julie Gayet). We can only assume that they were happy — at least content — for a while, but the present reveals an unconquerable tension between the couple. Philippe buries his feelings beneath his frigidly clinical exterior and Marie’s psyche splinters as she no longer sees any reason to exist.

This is a cruel and emotionless world that Marie and Philippe live in -- love, like anything colorful or creative, has been totally negated from existence. Those who will not conform — those who retain a desire to be creative or possess emotions — only have one escape…suicide.

Muzak is pumped like oxygen from the atmosphere of this world to lull the masses into submission. Carré Blanc also features an omnipresent Orwellian loudspeaker over which repeated recitations of Big Brother-esque propaganda promoting teen pregnancy and the moral benefits of croquet are disseminated to all. This same public address system also functions as an invisible Greek Chorus, sardonically commenting upon the on screen events.

The dystopian world takes place in what seems more like a parallel world rather than our future. Though seemingly non-related to our reality — stripping it of relevant political rhetoric — Jean-Baptiste Léonetti’s mesmerizing first feature recalls the bitingly literate social commentary of Albert Camus, Aldous Huxley and Franz Kafka…with a little Terry Gilliam (circa Brazil) thrown in for good measure.

SXSW 2011: THE FUTURE

Sophie (Miranda July) in The Future.

A paw paw blowtorch

By Don Simpson

Poor Paw Paw (creepily voiced by writer-director Miranda July) -- our narrator and...ahem...talking cat -- is dying. With only six months to live, Paw Paw requires constant medical attention. No one wants to adopt Paw Paw...until a cute curlicued couple, Sophie (Miranda July) and Jason (Hamish Linklater), decide that they will do a good deed and bring Paw Paw home with them. After they commit to taking care of Paw Paw, Sophie and Jason are informed by the animal clinic that their love and care will probably help Paw Paw live significantly longer -- a revelation that strikes the two of them like a lightening bolt.

Suddenly, Sophie and Jason perceive their adoption of Paw Paw as the end of their lives while Paw Paw sees it as the highly anticipated renewal of his. It will be another 28 days until Sophie and Jason can officially bring Paw Paw home, so they have time to mentally prepare for this impending change in their lives. Sophie and Jason -- both 35 years old -- decide that they should make the very most of their remaining days of freedom. (“We’re 35 now...by the time the cat dies, we’ll be 40...might as well be 50...after that, spare change.” “Spare change?” “Less than a dollar -- not enough to get anything you want.”)

Sophie quits her job as a dance instructor and promises herself that she will record a new dance routine on You Tube every day for the next 28 days. Jason quits his job as a computer support technician and -- opting to “look for coincidences” and “listen to what people are saying” for hints regarding his destiny -- he becomes a volunteer for an environmental non-profit, Tree by Tree. (Jason describes the current state of the world -- thanks in no small part to global warming -- as a building just as it has been hit by a wrecking ball in a cartoon.) Sophie also releases them from the greatest shackle of them all: their Internet service.

Jason’s new life suits him pretty well, but Sophie is unable to gain any momentum toward her goals. As a couple, their perceived freedoms begin gnawing at their relationship bonds; an insurmountable distance quickly grows between them. This is around the time where two key supporting characters -- Marshall (David Warshofsky) and Joe (Joe Putterlik) -- are catapulted into the picture. Jason finds himself in a position that he must stop time (something he has claimed the ability to do ever since the opening scene) while Sophie partakes in a rebirth of sorts, via a stunningly surreal cocoon-like dance in a yellow t-shirt.

Sophie and Jason begin the film so perfectly matched for each other that they could have been twins. Now they are utter strangers because they embarked in making one serious commitment, the adoption of an ailing pet. Unfortunately, they cannot truly comprehend the dire consequences of breaking their commitment -- not just to themselves, but also to Paw Paw. (Poor Paw Paw...) The fate of their relationship weighs heavily upon Paw Paw’s future. With allusions to the female baby factory -- the female menstrual cycle (28 days) and fertility (35 years old -- often the age associated with a sharp decline in fertility) -- The Future serves as apparent analogies for the certainty of the passage of time and “aging” couples whose seemingly perfect relationships become devastated by the possibility of throwing a baby into the mix. To many people, babies are the ultimate sign of commitment and represent the loss of personal freedom for the parents.

Following up on her near-brilliant directorial debut, Me and You and Everyone We Know, writer-director July takes The Future to some new and fascinating places. The Future, unlike Me and You and Everyone We Know, dives deep into a world that mixes magical realism (the talking cat, Jason’s ability to stop time, etc.) with surrealism. She may have felt somewhat confined to cinematic conventions in Me and You and Everyone We Know, but with The Future July expresses a uniquely personal freedom of expression. As psychologically cerebral as The Future seems, it is the work of unadulterated eye candy as well -- with its luscious color palate, keen fashion eye, and wondrously theatrical scenes of performance art.

July also rehashes situations that are familiar to us from Me and You and Everyone We Know. Both films reveal that July is fascinated by relationships -- between people who “know” each other and between complete strangers -- and creates various scenarios to compare and contrast the levels of kindness, strangeness and romanticism inherent in each pairing. July’s characters are deeply flawed and unpredictable, revealing incredibly wide ranges of emotions and desires. The differences between coincidence and fate are practically indistinguishable. I sometimes wonder if July is working out her theological beliefs concerning the presence of a “higher power” at the rate of 24 frames per second.