Category Archives: Foreign

SFIFF: A Cinephile’s Delight

The San Francisco International Film Festival kicked off last Thursday, and the crowds haven’t waned since. The main festival headquarters in Japantown at the Sundance Kabuki Cinemas and the San Francisco Film Society Cinema are full of excited cinephiles young and old, there to take in films from all around the world the way they were meant to be seen: on the big screen, with beautiful, crisp, clean, digital projection.

Among the weekend’s most popular films were Norway’s “Oslo, August 31st” (reviewed in a previous Intermission) and Italy’s “Terraforma,” which had a series of sold-out screenings and eager, last-minute planners in the rush lines. Don’t despair if you missed them, though, as they are both scheduled for theatrical releases this year.

If you haven’t had a chance to catch a film at the fest yet, there is still plenty of time, as the festival runs until May 3. Between now and then, you can see Kenneth Branagh up close at the Castro tonight, where he will receive a directing award and screen his early film “Dead Again,” or catch Yo La Tengo doing a live score at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art for the documentary “The Love Song for R. Buckminster Fuller” on Tuesday (come early to make the Rush line). In the meantime, here is a taste of films that have already screened and will be screening at the festival in the coming week.

“Back to Stay”
This first feature by Argentinean filmmaker Milagros Mumenthaler is an astute and observant film set in Buenos Aires, following three college-age sisters coming to terms with their grandmother’s recent death. The film takes place almost entirely in the house where they live, which they inherited. It’s a film about the secrets the sisters keep, the alliances that form within a family, the comfort of sisters and the effect of the space in which they live. We discover that many parts of the house were off limits when their grandmother was alive, and we watch as the girls explore these foreign spaces in a home with which they feel less and less connected.

Mumenthaler lingers on each of the girls for takes that span minutes, letting the wonderfully nuanced performances really shine as we see the signs of insecurities, love and grief; these are especially pronounced in the few scenes when all three sisters are on camera in a single shot, allowing us to see both the private and communal moments they share together and how they trespass on each other’s privacy. At the center of the film is the eldest sister, Marina, the most down-to-earth one: shy, intelligent, compassionate and insecure about many things, including her body. We watch as she copes with her sister Sofia’s secrecy and betrayals, and as she looks on both disapprovingly and enviously as Sofia uses sex to earn attention; there is so much that is unsaid between these two. “Back to Stay” is, in a sense, a coming-of-age story as Marina gains confidence and deals with her grief, and we learn that her sisters aren’t as put-together as she may have originally believed. There isn’t much plot so much as a series of uneventful scenes in which immense amounts of information about the complexities of the characters are beautifully revealed. It’s best seen on a big screen where you can get immersed in the rhythm of the film and the spaces the characters inhabit, and it’s one of the best films at SFIFF.

Read the full review at the Stanford Daily here

SF International Film Festival: Three Picks

Oslo, August 31st

Joachim Trier’s melancholic ode to urban life and the city of Oslo, “Oslo, August 31st” is one of the very best films of the last year and a must-see. The film centers around the charming Anders (Anders Danielsen Lie), a former drug dealer and addict, who gets a one-day leave from rehab to return to the city for a job interview and to make a few personal stops. Over the course of the day in Oslo, he journeys to his favorite haunts, seeing friends of present and former days and tying up loose ends. It’s a celebration of all the things the city has to offer and how even a neighborhood can have its own memories and cast.

As a drug dealer, Anders, of course, knew everyone. Trier carefully shows us how Anders’s relationships have developed, and, in so doing, the film becomes an exploration of growing up from carefree twenty-somethings to more responsible thirty-year-olds. “Oslo, August 31st” is a dialogue-heavy film about smart people, so the conversations are interesting, real and resonant. If you’ve ever lived in and loved a city, “Oslo” will movingly touch on familiar themes, friendships and feelings.

Read full review at the Stanford Daily here (note: I did not write the pre-amble)

Review: ‘Pina 3D’

Pina Bausch was a German modern dance choreographer, famous for bringing elements of the real world onto her stage, incorporating water, dirt, rocks, city streets and cafés into her choreography. In “Pina 3D”, director Wim Wenders brings Bausch’s choreography seamlessly offstage into the real world–shooting parts of the dances on city streets, in the forest, on a tram, in an industrial park and on the beach–while still giving us glimpses of the performances on stage.

In “Pina,” Wenders works with Bausch’s dancers to bring segments of her “Café Muller,” “The Rite of Spring” and “Vollmond” vividly to the big screen. Cinematographer Hélène Louvart shoots effectively in 3D, which is all oriented behind the screen, creating the effect of watching dance occurring in a three-dimensional space. It’s as close to theatre or live dance as you can get on film. Here, you have the advantage of being able to get close to the dancers, to clearly see their facial expressions or the details of a particular move.

Wenders makes modern dance, which can easily be alienating until you get accustomed to it, accessible to the dance neophyte. Each of the three pieces are shown in relatively short segments, no more than 10 minutes each, and are interspersed both with one another and between the stage and the outside world. The advantage is that if a certain number doesn’t quite click for you, it is normally finished before you are too bored.

The disadvantage is that too often, the segments that you love are too short. For more seasoned dance appreciators, this can be frustrating throughout: Wenders may cut away from a particular angle or move of interest at an inopportune time, and you can’t see entire numbers in sequence. In a way, this is pop dance for the masses, in the same way that symphonies perform “pop” classical numbers where they play the month’s highlights instead of famous pieces in their entirety.

Nevertheless, “Pina” still brings a new dimension to the work of Pina Bausch by bringing it onto the streets and onto the beach. It gives the dance an added sense of urgency and spontaneity. It’s invigorating to see Pina Bausch’s choreography performed by the ocean, with the dancers kicking around in the water, and then to see how Bausch translated that setting and immediacy to the stage. It is equally exciting to see Bausch’s work re-imagined in the real settings that she re-created indoors.

One of the best dance numbers, which epitomizes how Bausch’s choreography is dance, theatre and life, all at once, comes from “Café Mueller.” The dance is set in a café; the stage is full of tables and chairs. A couple starts off in tableau, the woman resting her arms around her partner’s neck. A third person, a man, enters and moves the woman’s arms to rest on her partner’s waist, and lifts her up into her partner’s arms. Her partner immediately drops her, and she stands up, puts her arms around his neck and holds onto him for dear life. The third dancer comes back and the process repeats. Every time it repeats, it gets faster. The faster it gets, the more dramatic, the more urgent and the more charged it becomes. It is dance, but there is a story arc that makes it theatre and a familiarity that makes it a great reflection of life. And up close, with the camera right in the space with the actors, whether on stage or on location, it exists not as just a reflection of life but as life itself. Suddenly, Bausch’s mantra, “Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost,” makes perfect sense.

This review was originally published in The Stanford Daily here.

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.

My Afternoons with Margueritte

My Afternoons with Marguerittecould have been manipulative and maudlin but it manages to mostly just be touching. It’s a simple story of a seemingly dim-witted but kind-hearted man, Germain (Gerard Depardieu) who, despite still living next door to his mother, has never felt loved by her. A chance encounter in the park while watching the pigeons with the radiant ninety-two year-old Margueritte (Giselle Casadisus) sparks the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Margueritte is educated and patient and she reads the classics of modern literature to Germain, starting with Camus’s “The Plague”, igniting his imagination and inviting him into a world of words and stories. Much of the plot is obvious and predictable: Germain finds a surrogate mother figure in Margueritte; she helps give him confidence; and he returns the favour.

Yet the story is told with such tenderness that it doesn’t matter: when the film elicits tears, they’re earned. Consider a scene early in their friendship when Margueritte compliments Germain on his remarkable auditory memory and he responds by saying “no, no, I just remember everything I hear”. The camera lingers on Margueritte in a private moment as she recognizes that he has misunderstood, kindly chooses to ignore the comment, but does not judge or correct him. He may be her student but she treats him like an equal.

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: 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: 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

TIFF 2010: Anything You Want (Todo lo que tù quieras)

I saw Achero Mañas’s brilliant film, Noviembre, at TIFF in 2003 and absolutely loved it. It won the audience choice award and for good reason; it was a masterpiece. Eight years later and I still haven’t managed to find a copy of it on DVD and it certainly never received a theatrical release in North America. So when I discovered that Mañas would be bringing his latest film, Anything You Want, to this year’s TIFF, I jumped at the opportunity to see the master at work once more.

Anything You Want is a sad and poignant story of how Leo, a family-law lawyer in Madrid who spends little time with his own family, must cope with taking care of his four-year-old daughter, Dafne, when her mother, his wife, passes away. At first, Leo feels completely incapable of handling the responsibility. We watch him break down into tears in front of his father as he admits his fear and anxiety about taking on the role of both mother and father, when he was so used to having Alicia be the primary caretaker for Dafne. His struggle is exacerbated by Dafne’s grief and alienation from him: Dafne refuses to kiss him or hug him and wants solely to speak to and be comforted by her mother.

At first, Dafne is content to take on a “fake mother”. When Leo brings home his girlfriend, Marta, Dafne asks Marta to read her a bedtime story and lie with her like her mother would. Dafne is eagerly searching for a female replacement and Leo feels helpless, convinced that what Dafne needs is a woman in her life. He confides in his co-worker at work that he feels obligated to date for Dafne’s sake, so that Dafne can have a woman in her life. Ultimately, however, both Dafne and Leo abuse Marta’s kindness, too keen to pretend she really is a substitute for Alicia, and unwilling to admit to themselves that she is someone different, and so Marta leaves.

In an effort to get closer to his daughter and gain her affections, Leo agrees to begin to dress like Alicia, at Dafne’s request. It starts off small, with Leo acquiescing to a request from Dafne to have him put on some lipstick, as a comforting reminder of her mother. But the obsession grows. It is only through dressing up as Alicia that Leo is able to have a close and caring relationship with his daughter.

Achero Mañas problematizes gender roles by examining Leo’s approach. It is heartbreaking that Leo feels that Dafne cannot love him if he is a man, and equally so that he feels that the only way to be gentle and loving towards his daughter is to take on a female persona. Certainly, Dafne is missing something by not having a woman in her life, but is Leo really right to think that only a female could fulfill the role of caregiver? Is there not some way for him to maintain his identity as the handsome, masculine male that he is while still finding a way to tenderly parent his daughter? Continue reading

TIFF 2010: Pinoy Sunday

Pinoy Sunday is a movie about a red couch. More specifically, it’s a movie about Manuel and Dado, two Filipino migrant factory workers in Taiwan, who dream of luxury and better days, and discover a discarded red couch on a Sunday, their day off. They decide to carry the couch back to the dormitory where they live so that one day they might be able to relax under the stars, drinking beer, stretched out on their couch, after a hard day’s work.

As the genre requires, they encounter many vicissitudes on their journey: a collision with a motorcyclist gets them picked up by the cops; a lady spotting them walking by with a couch sees this as an opportunity to cushion the fall of her son who is standing at the top of the apartment building threatening to jump; and enlisting the help of someone with a car puts them on a long detour to the middle of nowhere. They are racing against the clock, since they must return to their dormitory before curfew at 9PM or else risk deportation.

The couch, of course, is a symbol of luxury, and of hopes and dreams. It’s an impractical, heavy, clunky thing that they must carry across the city, with the hope of one day finding comfort and joy from it. Ultimately, this is a film about the difficulty of maintaining optimism and motivation against all odds, which seem to point towards your dreams being crushed. Continue reading