Category Archives: Festival coverage

Italian filmmakers shine in San Francisco – New Italian Cinema Festival

Last weekend, The San Francisco Film Society’s (SFFS) New Italian Cinema Festival at the Embarcadero Centre Theater in San Francisco closed the SFFS’s impressive annual Fall Season of mini-festivals. The Fall Season included a series of film festivals – Hong Kong Cinema, French Cinema Now, Taiwan Film Days, NY/SF International Children’s Film Festival, SF International Animation Festival – each lasting a few days and showcasing new films from around the world.

The New Italian Cinema festival focused on emerging filmmakers in Italy, many of whom were present to introduce their films and participate in a Q&A afterwards. The festival began with a retrospective of Daniele Luchetti’s films: Our Life, It’s Happening Tomorrow, and Ginger and Cinnamon. Most of the other directors were first time feature directors or relatively new directors: these aren’t just recent Italian films but films by new artists in Italian cinema.

Alessandro Aronodio’s first feature, One Life, Maybe Two, is a dark coming of age story about Matteo, a directionless young adult, who crashed into a parked police car when driving on a slippery road. Two stories play out simultaneously: one in which the crash happens and another in which he stops in time. In both realities, facets of Matteo are revealed, which are true of him in both realities: he’s lost, angry, and bored. The film often references Truffaut’s The 400 Blows, the story of another, younger, troubled youth who gets dealt an unfair set of cards.

Aronodio picks up on the running and water imagery from The 400 Blows, and uses them in his picture to show at once freedom and imprisonment. There is a beautiful ending in which Matteo meets himself at a protest – in one story he is a protester and in the other the riot police – which emphasizes how lost and fragmented Matteo is. These parallel stories so often feel like a weak plot device that we focus more on how the two stories play out differently than on the characters within them. Despite the two stories, Matteo remains largely a mystery: you often feel like you’re straining to find meaning where meaning doesn’t exist. Perhaps Aronodio should have consulted Woody Allen’s Melinda and Melinda, as well, for that is a film that tells two parallel stories – one comedy and one tragedy-  and finds unexpected meaning in both from a device that never seems like gimmick.

Francesco Falaschi’s This World is For You is, on the surface, a light-hearted comedy about yet another directionless youth, Teo, who yearns to be a writer but is sidetracked by family problems, including his father’s debilitating illness, which lead to unexpected responsibilities. Look a little closer and you’ll find a lot of precious insights. On one level, there’s a story of a father and son desperately trying to communicate in a culture where they have never been on level ground, hurting each other as they fail, but somehow finding a balance. On another level, it’s the story of dealing with the realities of first love, where the object of Teo’s desire, Chiara, is a strong, independent woman, whose research on wine will ultimately lead her out of the country and put an expiration date on their relationship. It’s also the story of how the scatterbrained, ambitious Teo, who can’t figure out how to write something honest, comes at it unexpectedly, and finds a way to meet family expectations as well as those he has for himself.

This World is For You is full of humour without undermining the serious themes it deals with. Consider the scene where Teo meets Chiara. He orders cheap white wine and tries to pass it off as champagne to impress her; he discovers, instead, that she’s a wine connoisseur, and that only ignites their attraction. There are also some delightful sceneswhere Teo is fighting with writer’s block, including trying to find the perfect start to his story, and ends up copying out Tolstoy’s famous opener, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” The humour is always entertaining but it also serves to underline just how young and naive Teo is by letting us laugh, gently, at his foibles. It’s easy to dismiss The World is For You as a shallow film, but beneath the light humour, there are a multitude of clever observations about families and the painful transition into adulthood.

Habemus Papam, which has been making positive waves on the festival circuit at Cannes and the Toronto International Film Festival, was the much-hyped closing night film, and the only film by a truly seasoned actor-director, Nanni Moretti. Moretti’s film is sure-footed and mature, a clever, hilarious, and surprisingly gentle satire about the choosing of a new pope. It will be getting a theatrical release in 2012.

When the new pope, Melville (Michel Piccoli), is chosen, he suffers from stage fright, starts to hyperventilate, and absolutely refuses to make his first public address and appearance. Hijinks ensue. They bring a non-religious psychoanalyst (Nanni Moretti) to talk him through it, but locate their sessions in public, with all the cardinals looking in, and forbid the psychoanalyst from asking him questions about sex, his parents, and his childhood. They hold the psychoanalyst in the Vatican until the unveiling of the new pope, and in his boredom, he starts up a volleyball tournament between the cardinals, and divides them by continent: Oceania only has three players and complains but he insists “if you’re good to your people, God will give you a bigger team next year”.

While many great laughs are to be had, the film works so well as satire because of the way it humanizes Melville and the other cardinals. We see the cardinals in their quarters, playing solitaire, putting together puzzles, and taking their medication. We see the cardinals as regular people with regular whims and cravings: they are anxious to leave the Vatican and explore Rome while they have a chance, to get delicious cappuccinos and doughnuts from the outside.

And most importantly, we see Melville, terrified about the task he is being asked to perform for the church. He runs away from the Vatican and begins walking and exploring the streets of Rome, contemplating his doubts and trying to understand his place in the world. He saw a second psychoanalyst who did not know he was the pope, and when asked his profession, Melville responded that he is an actor. We discover that his youthful ambition was to be a professional actor, but only his sister had talent, so despite his love for Chekov – we see him recite part of The Seagull with a troupe of actors – he went into the clergy.

In a suit, losing his breath after too much walking, Melville looks like just another elderly man, and that’s exactly how he feels, ill-equipped for the post of pope. Melville is so realistic, so human, that it becomes hard for us and for him to see himself as this divinely holy figure. All this discussion of acting is not in vain, for when he is finally forced to take up his post, we see him dressing in his papal costume, preparing for the biggest performance of his life. In a way, the film suggests, he has gone into the theatre after all.

The key festivals of the Fall Season may be over, but the SFFS is still screening independent and foreign film at headquarters, and gearing up for its winter programming and the annual San Francisco International Film Festival in the spring. The film scene is alive and well in San Francisco.

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Abridged version was published in the Stanford Daily here.

Review: “Urbanized”, Gary Hustwit’s new documentary

We are a society becoming increasingly urbanized. Fifty percent of us already live in cities, and 75 percent of us will by 2050. Cities face significant challenges: sustainable urban mobility, maintaining green spaces while allowing development, recovering from natural disasters, ensuring good infrastructure and many more. Gary Hustwit’s film “Urbanized” touches on many of these topics to give a broad portrait of cities today by introducing us to some exciting projects happening around the world.

Read the rest at the Stanford Daily

The Shaw plays at the Shaw Festival are a real disappointment: Candida and Heartbreak House

A British accent does not a funny play make. I wish this concept were better understood, especially by the Shaw Festival, which insists on making its actors attempt authentic accents in all of its plays. For My Fair Lady, a musical that’s actually about accents, there’s no escaping this. But for Shaw’s comedy plays, Heartbreak House and Candida, there’s no reason to bother with them unless you can be certain that the accents will be perfect and even then…

Unfortunately, the British accents in these productions at this year’s Shaw Festival are painfully and distractingly bad: like fingernails on a chalkboard. I’m hardly an expert on British accents, but I have seen enough British film to be able to tell a good accent from a terrible one, and these accents are right up there with Dick Van Dyke’s chimney sweep in Mary Poppins.

For years, the Stratford Festival hasn’t bothered with English accents in its productions of Shakespeare’s plays. I crowned this year’s Richard III a triumph even though none of the actors spoke with British accents that the real characters no doubt would have had. But perhaps that’s partly why the production triumphed: more focus on acting, less energy wasted on attempting failed accents. Unfortunately, the Shaw Festival hasn’t quite gained the confidence to dispel with the useless accents.

Heartbreak House is one long dinner party with a cast of despicable characters, all in love with somebody else’s husband or fiancée. It should be funny but dark, but most laughs were forced out of a recognition of the witty dialogue in spite of the delivery. The set provides a horrible distraction: the action looks like it’s taking place on a boat, but it seems to have walls and staircases like a house. Is it a house or a boat? A house or a boat? By the third act, the walls are gone and the house/boat is rocking back and forth and back and forth. Why? Who knows? To make the actors as sea sick as the audience is sick of the show.

Candida is a slight improvement over Heartbreak House and benefits from the very charismatic Claire Jullien in the title role. Her delivery of almost all of Shaw’s dialogue does it justice and lends it the wit it deserves; her accent is also much better than that of her peers, which certainly helps. Unfortunately, the production is dragged down by the amusing, but ultimately over-the-top acting by Wade Bogart O’Brien as the clumsy lovesick Marchbanks. In fact, Marchbanks is so goofy that his crush on Candida poses no real threat to the domestic bliss between Candida and her husband Morrell (Nigel Shawn Williams). But Williams plays Morrell so straight that he somehow feels threatened, making the action seem unrealistically serious, and taking all the bite out of the comedy.

Ironically, when the Shaw Festival does Shaw, it fails spectacularly. It seems to take a Tennessee Williams play — Cat on a Hot Tin Roof this season — to show us that the Shaw Festival can compete with the best of them. Perhaps it’s a good thing that they’re toning down the dose of Shaw in next year’s festival.

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For information on cheap tickets to the Shaw Festival and transportation, see the post, BlogUT’s Top 5 Summer Theatre Festivals on a Student Budget.
…and if you want a show worth seeing at Shaw, check out the review of My Fair Lady

Review of My Fair Lady at the Shaw Festival

Deborah Hay and Benedict Campbell in The Shaw Festival’s production of My Fair Lady

One of the biggest crowd-pleasers at this year’s Shaw Festival is surely My Fair Lady, a good but still disappointing production of the brilliant musical about a cockney flower girl who goes from rags to riches simply by learning to speak proper English. The flower girl is Eliza Doolittle (Deborah Hay) and she has a chance encounter with a coarse phonetics expert, Henry Higgins (Benedict Campbell). Higgins claims that in six months, he can teach her to speak like a lady, and in so doing, completely change her prospects in life. The play unfolds in two parts: the time and lessons leading up to Eliza’s perfection of the English language and the aftermath of how changing how she talks has profound effects on her situation in life.

My Fair Lady is one of the best, and also one of my favourite, musicals of the twentieth century. It combines an excellent story and a witty script – an abridged but verbatim adaptation of Shaw’s Pygmalion – with catchy, enduring tunes and great lyrics. In short, it has it all. That’s why it’s so incredibly difficult to get right. West Side Story is similar, requiring its cast to not only act but sing very difficult songs and dance, to boot, with most productions failing at one of these.

My Fair Lady has the added complication that it’s a story about transformations in character and life brought about by transformations in speech, which requires that all of its characters speak with very specific English accents. Eliza Doolittle is especially challenging to play: she starts the play with a rough cockney accent and finishes it a new woman with a refined upper-class accent,. There are many things to get right, and when a production does, it soars. But it’s also very easy to get them wrong.

This production of My Fair Lady gets things about half right, which is enough to keep the show fairly entertaining. This is the most ambitious choreography in a production of My Fair Lady that I’ve ever seen: the choreography for “I’m Getting Married in the Morning”, in particular, was inspired. It’s also the only time I’ve ever heard the vocals for Henry Higgins songs done completely in tune and in song – the film version with Rex Harrison involved mostly speak-singing and almost no actual singing – and Benedict Campbell as Henry can really sing.

There are two major problems with the production. The first is that the accents are generally uneven. Hay’s early accent is certainly vulgar but not quite cockney and her later accent isn’t quite right either. Campbell’s accent is certainly refined but it slips now and then. I’m not convinced it’s the actors’ fault because the accents seem to be wrong, across the board, in the exact same ways. When they all go to the Ascot, the brilliant and hilarious “Ascot Gavotte” number is mispronounced by the whole cast, with a very grating “ehscot”, which suggests they were all very badly coached on how precisely to speak.

The stars, Deborah Hay and Benedict Campbell, give solid performances with uneven accents. Hay’s physicalization is commendable: in the beginning her loose manner is boorish and crass and by the second half, become noticeably refined and delicate. Campbell mostly keeps up. I should warn that I recently saw a production of Pygmalion in the London West End starring Rupert Everett as Higgins. Everett’s portrayal was so rich, so complex, offbeat yet charismatic, that Campbell can’t possibly compete. The accents in the London production were also pitch perfect and incredibly detailed: as Eliza developed the ability to speak more properly, you could still hear minor slips into a cockney accent, every tenth word or so, which became increasingly less prevalent as the play went on. The trouble with Hay and Campbell – and the rest of the cast’s mediocre accents – is that they were distracting. I ended up focusing on how they sounded off instead of on the story. In the case of Pickering (Patrick Galligan), it was horribly grating.

The real star of the show proved to be Mark Uhre as Freddy Eynsford-Hill, Eliza’s silly upper-class lover, who sings the silly but romantic love song, “On the Street Where You Live”. Freddy can so easily be an overlooked character: he is supposed to be daft yet sympathetic but can easily be banal. But Uhre has great stage presence. His Freddy is appealing and charming and completely steals the scene whenever he appears, even when the centre of attention is meant to be Eliza, like in the number “Show Me”. He’s also got a fantastic voice and a real affinity for the physicalizing Freddy’s proper manners and reckless romanticism. Mark Uhre is the real thing and he’s sure to be a star. Special mention should also be made of Sharry Flett as Henry’s mother, Mrs Higgins, who nailed her part, balancing her maternal instincts, her disapproval of her son, and her pride in Eliza for Eliza’s transformation.

The second main problem was the set design, which though elaborate, was mostly ill conceived, leading to awkward movement on the stage. The set for Henry’s house provided two main spaces on the set: his desk and office on one side of the stage and a sitting room completely on the other end. These spaces were so disparate that when characters interacted between them – and they often did – the action was always stilted. It often seemed as though the characters were yelling at each other from opposite ends of the stage. Even worse, the characters would often move between the two sets, pacing back and forth, with absolutely no motivation, just looking for an excuse to use the stage. This, too, was distracting.

The set for covent garden at the beginning of the play was not quite as problematic. It impressively created distorted pillars to use perspective to make the stage look bigger. The problem was that most of the elements that broke up the stage – the pillars, the elevated platform – were so far upstage that it was awkward to have actors realistically move from downstage to upstage often, just to make use of the set pieces. The pillars need to serve as a hiding place for Higgins to observe Eliza and as barriers between the two when they spar. Instead, they serve as decoration which the director desperately attempts to use without elegance.

There was one clear exception to the poor set design: the set at the ascot was brilliant. I particularly liked how when the group of spectators prepares to watch the race, a fence rolls out in front of them, far downstage, and shadows of the horses racing flicker across the stage. It looks just right and feels just right and you get the real sense that they really are at the ascot. The ‘Ascot Gavotte’, which is perhaps the funniest of all the songs, because of its irony, is also done just right. Few things are funnier than watching the very composed, expressionless faces of the men and women at the ascot as they sing about how they “have never been so keyed up”.

Even with bad accents and bad staging, My Fair Lady is so well crafted that the production is still entertaining. It might lose a few genuine laughs and some of the complexity and believability of character development, but it can still fall back on a long list of fabulous songs. And so if all My Fair Lady can boast is some great song and dance numbers that will keep you tapping your feet, smiling, and humming the songs as you leave, it’s still well worth the ticket price. I was disappointed that the production wasn’t better and didn’t fully do justice to the musical, but I thoroughly enjoyed it nonetheless.

My Fair Lady runs until October 31.

For information on getting cheap tickets and trave,l see the post on BlogUT’s top 5 summer theatre festivals on a student budget.

Richard III at the Stratford Festival is a triumph

Seanna McKenna as Richard III in the Stratford Festival production

Seanna McKenna does a fabulous turn as Shakespeare’s most interesting and deliciously charismatic villain, in the title role of Stratford’s must-see of the summer, Richard III. It seems to be a popular play this year, with Sam Mendes’s rendition currently playing at the Old Vic in the London West End, starring Kevin Spacey. But Torontonians need not feel too envious, as Stratford’s Richard III is a triumph, and proof positive that the history plays can be incredibly entertaining.

Richard III is a conniving and scheming little devil, who systematically kills – or has killed – everyone in his way to the throne of England while maintaining the appearance of humility amongst his peers and congratulating himself in intimate exchanges with the audience. It is a play that is as much about performance as it is about politics, which prove less important than building a fascinating character. Shakespeare’s rendering of Richard III is better remembered in history than the real Richard III, who was likely not quite so evil nor quite so charming.

Seanna McKenna plays Richard III straight, and aside from her small frame, is indistinguishable from a man. Richard III is a cripple, an outward manifestation of his inner evil, and McKenna has perfected the hunchback, the limp, and the deformed arm: it all seems so incredibly natural, that it’s a surprise to see McKenna spryly skip offstage in the curtain call. She also does a wonderful job of layering the many different facets of Richard’s character: he’s playful, witty, cunning, remorseless, pernicious, malicious, corrupt, and unbelievably likeable. It’s an incredibly rich character in text, and McKenna does it full justice.

The production plays it straight, too, which Stratford almost never does, and yet the best productions there are almost always the straight ones. This is not modernized. This is not updated. Its lack of pretension puts the text at centre stage, and here that’s a triumph.

The production is in the Tom Patterson Theatre, where the oddly shaped stage – long and narrow – is put to wonderfully good use while maintaining economy. This stage has many stages within it.

There’s a small elevated platform, downstage, that serves as a stage for Richard to speak his soliloquies to us, marveling at and congratulating himself on his deviousness: this is Richard’s spectacle to the audience. It is also used to great effect when he successfully woos Lady Anne at her husband’s deathbed where Richard killed him, perhaps Richard’s greatest triumph of performance as Director Miles Potter cleverly and subtly draws attention to with this staging.

In the middle of the stage, there is red tile on the floor, which is where most of the scenes at court are held, subtly drawing attention to how manners at court are just another form of performance. And finally, the whole stage is elevated from the ground by one step which surrounds the entire stage. Watch where Richard lingers and when. When there is action occurring, but Richard has minimal dialogue, he stalks the outer step around the stage – he is, in a way, backstage, observing, not yet performing, but calculating and scheming and always having a hand at driving the action, however surreptitiously. Watch how when he puts on airs of humility, Potter has him step onto one of the many stages within the stage. Watch also how in the first half, he only steps onto the edges of the stage within the stage, and he steps there with some trepidation. Compare this to how, once crowned, Richard finally walks confidently to the middle of the red tile: finally feeling he belongs in a different kind of spotlight.

This very, very clever blocking is executed perfectly: it is subtle, motivated, and incredibly effective. It makes you constantly question who is performing, who is the audience, and how is the audience complicit in the performance. As Richard draws us into his plan, intimately speaking directly to the audience with his clever wordplay, we can’t help but root for him. We become complicit in supporting his wicked plan. We also can understand how all the members at court would be so taken in by Richard. McKenna shows us Richard’s pretensions but so subtly that we can believe they could go unnoticed by those at court.

Much like in Hamlet, where we can’t help but like Hamlet for his clever wordplay, and despise Claudius for his inadequacies in this department, Shakespeare equips Richard with incredible wit. He can artfully twist other people’s words, with a talent for verbal sparring unmatched by any of the other characters. This gives us both a feeling of how alone Richard is and a surprising amount of sympathy for him. And it also brings up the question of how someone so cogent in thought can be so deformed in motives.

The main failure of this production is a common one for this play, which is that the supporting characters get muddled and the many characters Richard deceives are hard to track. This may be, in part, due to a directorial indifference to these banal characters, compared to the seductive Richard, and in part due to solid but uninspiring acting. Bethany Jillard as Lady Anne is one striking exception, with real stage presence, and a complex performance, making this easily overlooked character actually equally rich as her partner on stage, Richard. Luckily, most of the specifics don’t matter too much, and the programme provides a nice family tree to help you keep track of the many people Richard needs to knock off.

Nevertheless, it is still a solid production, with an inspired use of stages within stages, and Seanna McKenna in a stunning performance, which, I am convinced, could not have been equalled by anyone else in the company at the moment. This is also the best Shakespeare production and the strongest lead performance I’ve seen at the Stratford Festival since Ben Carlson played Hamlet and Colm Feore did Macbeth. And along with the Shaw Festival’s production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Stratford’s Richard III is the must-see play of the year and it’s within driving distance of the GTA.

For information on cheap student tickets and travel, see the post on the Top 5 Summer Theatre Festivals on a Student Budget.

TO Jazz Festival: Review of the Dave Holland Quintet

The Dave Holland Quintet put on a phenomenal show at the Enwave Theatre at the Toronto Jazz Festival, a show so good that it is almost in the same league as those by the Keith Jarrett trio (which I called the best I’ve ever seen). Jazz concerts are at their best when you get to hear totally original music evolving, with the band in tune, giving you so much more than you can get from an album. The Dave Holland Quintet delivered, especially thanks to the fantastic bandleader Dave Holland on bass, the amazing musician’s musician Chris Potter on saxophone, and the wonderful Nate Smith on percussion, who reached impressive new heights as a percussionist in this show. The quintet also includes vibraphonist Steve Nelson and trombonist Robin Eubanks, who are certainly not slouches, being excellent musicians in their own right, but not quite in the same league as Holland, Potter, and Smith.

I love the way the Quintet puts together a show. They take their time to ease you into their style, starting off with some straightforward compositions with melody, improvisation on bass, improvisation on saxophone, improvisation on drums, melody, etc., just to get us used to the group and each musician’s style. These improvisations, it should be noted, by Potter, Smith, and Holland on the opening numbers “Walking a Walk” and “Cosmosis” are so fantastic that if these were all the concert had to offer, you could leave a very, very contented audience member.

And it gets better. As the concert progresses, so does the music, increasing in complexity. They let us in on what they’re doing though. We might get a complex piece in five parts, but each part gets added in sequentially. Robin Eubanks’s composition, “Pass it On”, was an exercise in perfecting the introduction and layering of five parts. We start with just  Eubanks on trombone and then after a few minutes, Nate Smith joins in on drums, playing off the existing rhythm in the piece. With those two playing, add in Potter on sax who continues to build on the two preceding parts. By the time the fifth part has been added in, which is Holland in this piece, it’s not just a fifth part, but a progression that builds on the other four, carefully piecing together a complex composition , and slowly enough that we know what they’re doing. Continue reading

Toronto Jazz Festival 2011: Branford Marsalis and Joey Calderazzo and the Bad Plus

On Wednesday night, Branford Marsalis, on soprano and tenor sax, and Joey Calderazzo, on piano, took the stage at Koerner Hall for the world premiere of their duo collaboration, Songs of Mirth and Melancholy. They did a fantastic preview of this at last year’s Jazz Lives, which you can download (in part) and listen to here. At the Jazz Lives performance, Marsalis explained that when the two of them started this duo project, they sat down and talked about everything they hate about jazz duos. One thing that stood out to them as particularly distasteful was when the piano walks the bass line in the left hand: “If we wanted someone to walk the bass line, we would have hired a bassist”, said Marsalis.

Wednesday’s concert featured a mix of great standards and original compositions both old and new. The highlights included a wonderful rendition of Irving Berlin’s “Cheek to Cheek” and Marsalis’s “Eternal”, the title track of his record. Marsalis and Calderazzo are incredibly in tune with one another. Marsalis is, no doubt, the resident master. He seems to effortlessly and intuitively produce fantastic musical solos while Calderazzo works to keep up with his part, much of which is scripted in music he is reading; Marsalis didn’t have any music on stage.

This is not to say that Calderazzo didn’t hold his own; he played quite a lot and very well and many of his compositions were a joy to hear. Perhaps Calderazzo said it best: he doesn’t know how Branford Marsalis does it, but if he hears something once, he has it committed to memory. The one thing he doesn’t know, as Calderazzo pointed out, is the key that any song is in, though he can play them perfectly in any key. Marsalis explained that, as a child, he and his brother would ask their dad to play a song for them. Branford would ask his dad what key the piece was in, before they started, and his father Ellis would respond, ‘son, there are no keys. There are only notes.’’ Eventually Branford stopped asking and just learned to figure it out as they went along.   Continue reading

TIFF2010: Lapland Odyssey

Dome Karukoski’s Lapland Odyssey is a hilarious road movie packed with everything from low-brow humour to masterfully paced black comedy. Its weird humour and pacing remind me of the Coen Brothers and the strange brand of absurdist humour they concoct from unsettlingly strange pacing, except Lapland Odyssey takes place in Finland, in the middle of winter, and is full of bright colours.

The plot is simple: Janne must find and purchase a “digibox” for his girlfriend, Irina, on Friday night, and present it to her before 9AM Saturday morning or she will leave him forever. Having spent the money she gave him for the digibox on booze, he and his two sidekicks set off on a road trip adventure to acquire funds and find a digibox.

But this is no run-of-the-mill adventure. The film opens with one of Janne’s friends narrating the story of the tree near their town where people have gone to hang themselves for generations. He tells us of each of the five people that have used the tree to end their lives. The stories are just superficial enough and unfold just slowly enough to allow us to laugh. This sets the stage for the film: this is a film where the grotesque and the politically incorrect can be hilarious. Continue reading

TIFF2010: Les Petits Mouchoirs (Little White Lies)

Guillaume Canet, the talented heart-throb French actor from Jeux d’Enfants and l’Affaire Farewell (TIFF 2009), is quickly distinguishing himself as a serious talent as a writer and director. In 2006, he wrote and directed the wonderful thriller, Ne Le Dis à Personne (Tell No One), which was a masterpiece of tight writing, strong emotion and suspense. At this year’s TIFF, he returns with his latest film, which he wrote and directed, Les Petits Mouchoirs (Little White Lies), which is a masterful follow-up to Ne Le Dis à Personne. In Les Petits Mouchoirs, Canet has assembled a cast of some of the who’s who’s of the very best in French cinema, including his partner, Marion Cotillard, Francois Cluzet and Gilles Lellouche (Ne Le Dis à Personne) and Anne Marivin (Le Coach, Bienvenue chez les Ch’tis).

Les Petits Mouchoirs is an ensemble piece about a group of friends spending a one-month vacation in Bordeaux at Max’s (Francois Cluzet) beach house, while their friend Ludo (Jean DuJardin) recuperates from a near-fatal drug-induced motorcycle accident in hospital. The film bears some resemblance to The Big Chill, if you replace the overwhelming nostalgia, with a darker underbelly of the “little white lies” that hold a group of friends together, and at the same time, tear them apart. Every character has a secret and this leads to a great deal of comedy and tragedy.

At the beginning, we watch as the characters experience the fun of a vacation with friends, the luxury of boating, and the laughter they share, all scored by a soundtrack of buddy movie American songs. But as the film plays on, the phoniness of their camaraderie is slowly revealed. Everyone has a secret and everyone lies to somebody else. On the surface, everyone is smiling and happy, but scratch below it, and you find a group of struggling and insecure people. Continue reading

TIFF2010: Chico & Rita

Chico & Rita is a lovely animated film about two Cuban jazz musicians in the late 1940s and early 1950s: Chico is a talented pianist and Rita is a one-of-a-kind singer. They meet and fall in love but they face many obstacles that separate them, from miscommunications to the schism that occurs after the Cuban revolution which leaves Chico stuck in Cuba, unable to play his music, and Rita in the United States, unable to fulfill her musical potential because she is black.

The story is told from Chico’s perspective, as an old man reflecting back on the good and sad times of his youth, which lends some additional romanticism to the story. Although the romance between Rita and Chico is what grounds the film, their story is somewhat clichéd. The real success of the film is in the animation and music and how these visuals and sounds capture an era and what Cuba and the US was like for jazz musicians in the 1950s and present day. Continue reading