Category Archives: Foreign

TIFF2010: What I Most Want

One of the best films at TIFF this year is Delfina Castagnino’s What I Most Want, which is about two women – Maria  (Maria Villar) and Pilar (Pilar Gamboa) – and the week they spend together in Pilar’s hometown in Patagonia as they cope with their respective problems. Maria is at the tail-end of her four-year relationship with her boyfriend which has gone very sour; Pilar copes with the recent death of her father and the subsequent responsibilities that come with that such as managing her father’s extensive land and business. The two friends need each other to cope, yet they cannot fully communicate their pain to each other and so we watch them experience loneliness in the company of a close friend and we also see how that company gives them security and comfort.

The films opens on the backs of Maria and Pilar, sitting silently in front of a beautiful look-out point in Patagonia. After a few minutes they begin to talk about breathing classes and gossip and relationships, the conversation flows the way real conversation flows: sometimes there are long pauses of acceptable silence and sometimes dialogue is continuous with a realistic fast-paced rhythm. They are charming and bright and we like them instantly.

In both her writing and directing, Castagnino has mastered the art of conversation and silence. The film is shot in a series of long takes each with a still camera, and each take can last ten minutes or longer still. These long takes allow us to experience these characters in “real-time”: we can enter their world and really experience the awkwardness of silences and the excitement of flowing conversation. Such long takes require remarkable acting skills and Castagnino has found such mastery in these two exquisite actresses. Both actresses started out in theatre, which is perhaps why they are able to carry their performances throughout these long takes.

Near the beginning of the film, Maria gets a phone call from her boyfriend, and we follow her on the phone for about five or ten minutes. We watch as her body language changes from completely open and confident to slowly becoming more enclosed and less self-assured. We can hear subtle changes in her voice as the effects of this emotionally-demanding conversation begin to take their toll on her. We see her suppressing her desire to cry – she needs to cry but she does not want to – as she hears, what we can only imagine, is something very hurtful. We never hear what her boyfriend says but it doesn’t matter: we can see it all on her face. Here we experience silence and minimal dialogue, but we follow Maria on her emotional journey completely: the words spoken are just enough and just right. Continue reading

TIFF 2010: Film Socialisme

The films of Jean-Luc Godard have rarely been accessible, are often slow, but almost always, even the worst ones, have at least a few moments of sheer brilliance and stunning photography throughout. Film Socialisme, Godard’s newest film, which had its North American premiere at TIFF, is certainly slow and inaccessible. In fact, this was by far the slowest and least accessible Godard film I’ve seen, which means that the 10-minute traffic scene in Weekend and the pain that was Masculin Feminin are a rollicking good fast-paced time by comparison. Unfortunately, Godard’s trademark genius and exquisite photography are also often lacking in this film. He seems unaware of what the strengths of the film are; the few small glimpses of greatness are overshadowed by a long and disconnected mess.

Although the primary language of the film is French, and there is at least some dialogue in Russian and Arabic, the film has no subtitles. Intentionally. I am almost fluent in French and can follow along with all of the dialogue and yet, I did not feel like that helped me much in understanding either what was happening in the film or what the point was. There are no characters. There is no plot. Not only is there no plot, but also there is no story. People appear and talk at each other or at the camera now and then, but these can hardly be described as “characters” since they are in no way emotionally involving and the nonsense they spurt can only be understood by the select few that happen to speak the language.

The film can be split up into three main parts: the first takes place on a cruise boat, the second in a Martin gas station, and the final goes all around the world and attempts to – largely unsuccessfully – connect the disconnected threads from the rest of the film. Often, dialogue is undercut by loud noise. Sometimes this is white background noise from the digital camera’s microphone (how dare Godard not use a boom! my ears!) and sometimes it is a loud sound or piece of music overlaid on the audio, making it nearly impossible to decipher the words being said. People seem to philosophize about various subjects and the film seems to be lampooning capitalism and civilization, in typical Godard form, but to what point is much less obvious.

If you can accept that there is little sense to be made of the film, then you might be able to appreciate its few merits. Each frame is masterfully composed, a characteristic of most Godard films. Sometimes the HD digital photography leads to moments of beauty like the shots on the cruise deck at night. Yet instead of using digital photography to enhance his usually skilled shots, he sometimes uses cell-phone-quality video, which is painful to watch and overlays extremely low quality audio. In the 1960s, when Godard made La Chinoise, he put together beautiful shots that were exquisitely lit on a stunning set. Fifty years later, technology is better, yet Godard’s photography has become – intentionally – sloppier through use of low quality video. Continue reading

HotDocs 2010: Nénette

Nicholas Philibert’s Nénette is a 70-minute film in which we constantly observe 40-year-old orangutan, Nénette, and her two orangutan companions, through the glass, in her captive habitat at a Paris zoo. Orangutans live to 30-35 years in the wild, so Nénette is quite old, but Philibert has us questioning, throughout the movie, if those extra years were worth the price of captivity.

Philibert puts us in the place of a visitor to the zoo, constantly gazing at but never interacting with Nénette through the glass. Nénette, for the most part, provides little entertainment, sitting still with a world-wearied expression on her face. Philibert fills the soundtrack with voiceovers of zoo visitors talking about Nénette, watching Nénette, pondering Nénette’s thoughts, and sometimes making absurd assumptions. At seventy minutes, the film feels rather long. We are desperate to see Nénette do something -anything – and in the absence of action, we make up a story about how Nénette must be feeling and thinking, just as the zoo visitors do.

Orangutans share many anatomical similarities to humans such as the hairless face and sunken eyes. But they also have a large lump below the neck; many visitors were fascinated by Nénette’s lump, which is not a breast, but is not comparable to any other part of human anatomy. Visitors gawk at the lump, as do we. The lump’s purpose is not explained until very near the end: it stores a large amount of air, which when appropriately compressed, allows orangutans to let out a very loud noise which can be heard from miles away, to warn other orangutans of danger.

We never hear Nénette make this loud cry; in captivity, she has no need to use it, the zookeeper reminds us. We learn that Nénette has had three mates, and has borne four babies, one of which still resides with her. A few years ago, when Nénette lost her third mate, the zookeepers decided to give her a break and not find her another mate; they keep her son with her for company. However, because they are uncertain of whether incest is forbidden in orangutan society, Nénette is on the birth control pill, which is slipped into her yogurt each day. They want to ensure there is no chance that Nénette will be impregnated by her son and they have no way to tell if she is yet menopausal: menstruation leaves no traces of blood in orangutans, we are told. Continue reading

HotDocs 2010 Coverage: Kings of Pastry, And Everything is Going Fine

What: Kings of Pastry
When: Friday, May 7th @ 11AM
Where: The ROM theatre
How: The film is sold out for the screening so you’ll need to show up AT LEAST 1 hour early and stand in the rush line. It’s during the day so it’ll be free for students if you can get in. HotDocs keeps a set of tickets for press (like me), so once these are unclaimed (15 minutes before the film) they’ll start to let the Rush line in — bring something to sit on and to read!

Every year, HotDocs selects a few documentary gems, which later become great successes (like Helvetica from 2007) and seeing them at HotDocs before they are known is always a pleasure. The trick, however, is finding these films beneath the large mass of films by neophyte directors with inchoate ideas and the ridiculous notion that documentary filmmaking is merely the art of pointing a camera at anything “real”.

So far, I’ve seen two big winners at this year’s festival:  Chris Hegedus and D.A. Pennebaker’s Kings of Pastry and the great Steven Soderbergh’s And Everything is Going Fine. Kings of Pastry plays again this Friday at 11AM at the ROM: it is RUSH only so show up early (no later than an hour in advance if you want to make sure you get into the movie) but it is worth the wait.

Kings of Pastry is about a group of sixteen chefs who are finalists for the MOF (Meilleurs Ouvriers de France) competition, a French competition for pastry chefs to show their cooking prowess and earn the very prestigious striped collar. Kings of Pastry focuses on three chefs: we watch them prepare for the competition, revise their pastry inventions, and finally participate in the competition.

The process by which these chefs craft pastries is utterly fascinating:  a feat of structural engineering. A delicious dessert is a prerequisite for success but by no means a guarantee; presentation is equally important. One of the challenges of the MOF competition is to make a sugar sculpture, which, by nature of the material, is extremely fragile, meaning the MOF candidates must be very inventive (and careful) to ensure that their pastry is structurally sound and does not break when moved. Structural integrity is This also an issue for every other pastry, and the chefs achieve this by carefully planning and considering, at minimum, the ingredients, the thickness of materials, and the cooking time required.

Perhaps even more fascinating than the structural engineering behind these pastries is the iterative design process – yes, design process – that these chefs undergo to arrive at the perfect pastry. In one scene, we see five different versions of the same puff pastry, each with different arrangements, as one of the chefs tries to decide which pastry he wants to present at the competition. Each participant must make a large wedding cake sculpture, and the one chef we follow most closely designs and redesigns the cake many times, largely in an effort to ensure that it can support its own weight.

Although Kings of Pastry chronicles a competition, it does not feel forced or scripted and it does not follow a formula like American Idol, to use a crude example.  Hegedus and Pennebaker focus on the story behind making the pastries and the art and dedication that goes into this trade, with many mouth-watering shots of these gastronomical works of art, which is absolutely mesmerizing. Last year, Nora Ephron made another movie for the epicure, Julie and Julia, about the trials and tribulations of two ambitious chefs and featured many delectable shots of gourmet French cuisine; Kings of Pastry does an equally good job of photographing food and celebrating the epicure culture, though it focuses on the story behind that special food group, dessert that has its own separate compartment in everyone’s stomach. Kings of Pastry, like Julie and Julia, celebrates the art of cooking and it’s sure to leave you craving an incredibly fancy French pastry dessert by the end of the film.

Steven Soderbergh’s film, And Everything is Going Fine, is a continuation of Soderbergh’s obsession with the actor/performer Spaulding Gray. Soderbergh made Gray’s Anatomy in 1996, which was an eighty-minute film version of one of Gray’s monologues. And Everything is Gone Fine is essentially a mash-up of old recordings of Gray’s various monologue performances interspersed with the occasional personal interview (between, presumably, Soderbergh and Gray) and television interview. Continue reading

Cinefranco 2010: What to see on Sunday March 28

If you missed the opportunity to catch some light comedies at Cinefranco on Saturday, you can still do so tomorrow (Sunday) and all through this week.

BlogUTs picks for Sunday are the light romantic comedy Tricheuse/So Woman! at 7:15PM (reviewed below), the great Costa Gravas’s (director of the chilling but brilliant Missing) drama, East of Eden at 3:00PM, and Le Petit Nicolas, a family-appropriate comedy at 5:15PM, based on the nostalgic children’s books by René Goscinny, which I enjoyed very much as a child.

Tricheuse (or So Woman! by its English title) has a recycled plot, very similar to Peter Weir’s Green Card, which itself was nothing new, about Clemence, who convinces her immigrant piano tuner, Farid, whose name she can’t remember or pronounce, to bring his two daughters to live with her so she can fake being married in order to secure her apartment and a lucrative litigation job which she needs to salvage her career. Since the piano tuner can barely afford electricity, he gets something out of the deal. Of course, they fight initially as their personalities and cultures clash: she is self-absorbed, superficial, and has a proclivity for boy toys, while he is the ultimate family man who cooks and cares for his daughter. But in the end, they fall in love, and all the conventions of a romantic comedy are met.

Tricheuse is a sweet film and a funny film and there are many scenes of mistaken identities worth a watch. For example, when Clemence’s landlord asks what Farid does for a living, she makes up a wild lie that he is a great sculptor; the building then requests that he make a sculpture for the courtyard and so Farid uses bicycles, toasters, and other objects to craft something similar to one of Clemence’s modern art sculptures in her apartment. When Clemence teaches the eldest how to write an essay, her teacher claims that plagiarism must be at work, so Clemence comes into the school to defend her as a parent and a lawyer. There are also moments of drama when Clemence gets Farid’s daughters to open up to her about their mother and they bond, though sometimes these feel a little emotionally forced.

Tricheuse is not a great film, but despite its predictability, it has some unexpected sophistication and turns, which make it a light enjoyable see for a Sunday afternoon.

Cinefranco 2010: Le Coach

What: Cinefranco, the Toronto French Film Festival
When: March 26 – April 3
Where: AMC Yonge & Dundas, right at Dundas subway station
Cost: Students – $8.50, Single Tickets – $10 and can be purchased in person or online. Arrive at least 30 minutes early to ensure tickets are available.

Cinefranco, one of the best small film festivals in Toronto, showcases French cinema from France, Canada, and other French-speaking countries that often won’t play in cinemas outside of France or Quebec. This year the festival has moved to the AMC Yonge & Dundas, a much better venue which provides comfortable seating, great screens, and stadium seating – you can still read the subtitles should someone tall choose to sit in front of you. Past years have showcased such gems as La Naissance des Pieuvres (2008), Ensemble C’est Tout (2008), and Peindre ou Faire L’Amour (2007). This year’s festival offers up a wide variety of films from comedy to drama.

Today’s schedule included a lovely laugh-out-loud comedy from France, Le Coach, about a life coach, Max (Richard Berry) who, in an effort to pay off his large gambling debts, takes on a job to coach a hopeless engineer, Patrick Jean-Paul Rouve), into becoming a good manager who can seal the deal with a difficult and important client. The engineer is a mess – from his bad clothes, to his total push-over attitude, to his tendency to get incredibly frazzled whenever having an important conversation, be it with a boss or a beautiful woman. And since the engineer’s bosses erroneously believe him to be the nephew of the CEO, the life coach is forbidden from revealing his true identity and forced instead to train the engineer under the guise of being a 50-year-old intern doing photocopies. Of course, hilarity ensues. Continue reading

Departures

Picture 17Departures is a new Japanese film about a man, Daigo, whose dream to be a concert cellist fails because he lacks the necessary talent, and so is forced to make other plans. He moves from Tokyo back home to a small town, where news seems to travel surprisingly slowly. Untrained in any profession other than music, he answers a classified ad in the newspaper for a job in “departures”, thinking he is applying to work at a travel agency, only to discover it was a misprint and a job about “the departed”. The job interview lasts 2 minutes; the interviewer asks Daigo if he will work hard, Daigo responds “yes, sir!”, the interviewer tells him he’s hired and hands him a pile of cash. When Daigo discovers the job deals with dead people, he is hesitant, having never seen a corpse before or had to deal with death. Nevertheless, upon discovering how well it pays, Daigo decides to accept the job.

And so Daigo enters a world of ritual for the dead, performed for the living. His job consists of carefully cleaning the bodies of the dead discretely in front of the family, safeguarding family members from the sight of skin, in order to prepare the body for the coffin.

The beginning of Daigo’s dalliances with “the Departed” is filled with a lot of good humour. On the first day of his job, Daigo participates in a promotional video; he has to wear a diaper, have a powdered white face, and must play a corpse. His first encounter with a dead person involves finding a woman in an apartment filled with bugs and the strong stench of her decaying body. Sad, disgusting, and for Daigo, incredibly shocking events are happening, but they are shot with such light humour that we can’t help but laugh at Daigo’s confusion and initiation. When he is no longer a neophyte, he still encounters new and bumpy ground, including discovering, in the middle of the ceremony, that the person he was preparing, who looked like a woman, happens to have a penis. These scenes are genuinely funny and a whole lot of fun; they are also dealt with in a delicate, caring fashion so that we are not laughing cruelly or poking fun at this ritual. We experience the same amusement as the other characters in the film. Continue reading

TIFF2008: Me and Orson Welles

Richard Linklater’s new film, Me and Orson Welles, is mediocre by Linklater standards but a good, fun mainstream film by any other standards. That is to say, it’s closer to being on par with Linklater’s other mainstream films like School of Rock or A Scanner Darkly than to the brilliance of his masterpieces like Before Sunset, Tape, or Waking Life, but it’s still a fun time. It’s the late 1930s and sixteen-year-old Richard (Zac Efron), still daydreaming in high school, has a chance encounter with Orson Welles on the street. Displaying his drumming expertise, Welles (Christian McKay) casts him in his production of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar at the Mercury Theatre. Richard is thrust into the life of an actor, skipping school, attending rehearsals, and falling hopelessly in love with the beautiful house manager (Claire Danes) who has bigger ambitions and will stop at nothing to achieve them. Everyone in the company marvels at the genius of the pompous, self-important Orson Welles, and complains about how they must tolerate his childish, disrespectful behaviour.

We see glimpses of disjointed scenes from Orson Welles’ modernized with Nazi costumes, and well-staged Julius Caesar. These glimpses are, however, not enough from which to really understand or judge the quality of Welles’s interpretation. And although I find the fact that the play’s reception was without much controversy, which seems unlikely at the time of Hitler’s rise to power and atrocities, and Welles’s overall interpretation is unexplained, I still enjoyed the blocking, delivery, and set design of these scenes.

Set to a soundtrack of 1930s classics, from Gershwin to Irving Berlin, with perfect period production design, Me and Orson Welles has a great feel and a visually dazzling look. Although it mostly takes place inside the Mercury theatre, the small space never gets dull: Linklater is a master at manipulating the camera to find new and exciting ways to show a confined space. Though theatres will likely fill up with pre-teen girls crushing on the cute, but untalented Zac Efron, the real stars of the film are Christian McKay, with a highly stylized and believable, although somewhat one-dimensional, performance as Orson Welles, and Claire Danes.

TIFF2008: Les Plages d’Agnes

French New Wave director Agnès Varda (Cléo de 5 à 7, Les Demoiselles de Rochefort) was at the Toronto Film Festival this year with her latest documentary, Les Plages d’Agnès, an autobiographical film. Varda narrates the film, and is also an active participant, tracing her own life story. The film begins with an elaborate setup of mirrors along a beach, an obvious, but beautifully shot metaphor for self-reflection. Here, Agnès informs us that beaches have been a cornerstone of her life: from her childhood exile in Sète during the second world war, to the beaches she spent her summers at, to the beaches of Los Angeles where she spent some of her adult life.

The film explores the authenticity of memory through meta-narrative. In one scene, we watch unknown modern-day children, dressed in period outfits, re-enacting Varda’s childhood experiences, which she narrates, when she, too, becomes a part of the scene on screen. Is memory ever really reliable? Or do we simply recreate a narrative of scenes from our lives? And if we see our own lives through a narrative we invent, are re-enactments, in film, any less authentic than the stories we tell ourselves? While the film begins to raise these interesting questions, it drags on too long, as Varda digresses into tangents that last too long on various subjects, including her husband, the great director, Jacques Demy. Nevertheless, the film is worth seeing for its clever exploration of the documentary genre and for a bit of background about the life of this legendary director.

TIFF2008: 7915 km

7915 km

Nikolaus Geyrhalter’s documentary, 7915 km, takes its title from the length of the Dakar Rally, an annual off-road motorcycle race through Europe and Africa, from Paris, France to Dakar, Senegal. 7915 km is not about the race, but about the places that the race goes through. Geyrhalter visits various towns about 1000 km apart, along the race, in various countries, where different languages are spoken. At each stop, he interviews the locals about their daily lives and how they were affected by the race, with an aim to give a glimpse-of-life overview of the areas. The race is a ghost throughout the film: we never meet any of the participants and we never see their vehicles after the first five minutes of the film. What we see are the remnants of the race, the environmental degradation –the tracks through the land, tracks that often ruined the local roads – and the people whose homes are along the path of the race.

Shot in High Definition, the film is well worth it for the cinematography alone, which captures such diverse and gorgeous geographies as the Moroccan desert, the deserts of the Saharan Republic, and the lush lands in Senegal. Many of the people we meet along the way tell engaging, and sometimes, unexpected stories. A doctor in a small town marvels at how rich Europeans must be that they waste their money on an off-road race instead of helping to feed the poor. A projectionist in a highly religious, Muslim town, complains that he shows only pornography films in his movie theatre because he is unable to acquire prints of any other films. And a young woman who has moved back to her hometown village in Senegal talks about her experiences with racism as an immigrant in France. A man in the Morrocan desert describes his way of life, where grown men live with their brothers and mother, segregated from their wives and children.

Unfortunately, because of the breadth of the encounters, it is sometimes difficult to get a complete picture of the individual cultures of these different areas. The interviews are also mostly with men, many of whom praise their simple, non-European lifestyle. This often left me wondering: would the women also praise this rural lifestyle or do they resent the inequalities among the sexes? Many of the subjects were reluctant to reveal personal details, which made me wonder who their interviewers were and how that affected the quality and candour of the subjects. But the film never gives us any information about the interviewers, and so the story seems incomplete. Nevertheless, the landscapes, and some of the stories, still make this imperfect film a delight.