September 2006

Lights in the Dusk

Lights in the Dusk (Finland/Germany/France, dir­ector Aki Kaurismäki): This is the third film in Kaurismäki’s “Helsinki Trilogy” (the others are Drifting Clouds (1996) and The Man Without a Past (2002)) While I haven’t seen the first, this film shares many them­atic and formal ele­ments with the second film, and I enjoyed it just as much.

Koistinen is a lonely security guard who is ignored by his co-workers; that is, when he’s not being teased by them. His life is soon turned upside down by a femme fatale, with heart­breaking res­ults. Despite the grim-sounding plot, the film is full of the director’s trade­mark deadpan humour. And I’m in awe of how he can make the film just radiate love des­pite the mannered acting and awk­ward sta­ging. Perhaps it has to do with the warmth of the lighting and the colour palette, as well as the use of nos­talgic music and art dir­ec­tion. Whatever it is, from the first frame, you know the dir­ector loves this sad sack and wants us to love him too.

The films of the Helsinki Trilogy all deal with people on the mar­gins, and it’s clear that Kaurismäki’s sym­pathies lie with the common people and not with those whose suc­cess or power has dehu­man­ized them. He is a true humanist, and his “heroes” all bear their suf­fer­ings stoic­ally; in fact, they quite lit­er­ally per­sonify a “never-say-die” atti­tude, and that makes them admir­able. Their hangdog expres­sions may make us pity them, but it’s their core of inner strength that makes us love them.

9/10(9/10)

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Lake of Fire

Lake of Fire (USA, dir­ector Tony Kaye): A monu­mental (152 minutes!) doc­u­mentary on the abor­tion issue filmed over a 15-year period, Tony Kaye’s film is likely to become a classic. The film covers all kinds of ground and fea­tures inter­views with many people on both sides of the issue. Perhaps sur­pris­ingly, quite a few of them have intel­li­gent things to say.

There is quite a lot of (and I’d say too much) cov­erage of the extreme fringe of the pro-life move­ment, including the string of killings of abor­tion doc­tors in the 1990s, and a very strange and pos­sibly insane man who runs an organ­iz­a­tion called Lambs of Jesus. Too often, the pro-life camp is described as simply an exten­sion of the Christian Right’s agenda. While that may be largely true, there are mil­lions of other people with pro-life views that are much less extreme, who are not neces­sarily marching or pick­eting abor­tion clinics. It would have been nice to hear from some of them. One inter­esting pro-life advocate was writer Nat Hentoff, a lib­eral atheist. In the pro-choice camp, there were a few not­able voices, including lawyer Alan Dershowitz and Frances Kissling of Catholics for a Free Choice. Then there were those who appeared to be in the middle some­where, including sev­eral med­ical bioeth­i­cists and even Noam Chomsky, who was per­haps the most elo­quent voice in the film.

I sup­pose the extensive cov­erage of the shoot­ings of abor­tion doc­tors may have been included to bal­ance the equally dis­turbing images of abor­tion pro­ced­ures, including the doctor “piecing together” the body parts of the fetus after the pro­cedure. Any honest film about abor­tion needs to address these very real images.

I believe it may have been Chomsky who stated that abor­tion comes down to a dif­fi­cult choice between two (and pos­sibly more) com­peting but authentic values. He also pointed out that if pro-life sup­porters claim to be con­cerned about chil­dren, there were lots of easy ways to help the many suf­fering chil­dren in the world, but that few were actu­ally doing much about it.

The film con­cludes with two seg­ments where I found the use of music to be manip­u­lative. One is the state­ment by a nurse who was severely injured in an abor­tion clinic bombing, and the final longer seg­ment fol­lows one woman as she goes through the entire abor­tion pro­cedure, from filling out forms to her sudden break­down as she tries to tell the inter­viewer she’s “relieved.” The images and stories were powerful enough without the need for swelling strings in the back­ground. As well, it’s not always clear when each part of the film was shot, or whether we’re seeing things in chro­no­lo­gical order at all, and for a film that covers 15 years of a chan­ging polit­ical land­scape, it would be nice to have a timeline and even some stat­istics to see how things are changing.

Other than those rel­at­ively minor mis­giv­ings, this is a land­mark film and has set a high standard for fea­ture length doc­u­ment­aries dealing with this rel­at­ively neg­lected sub­ject. The two and a half hours went by very quickly, and I was even left wanting more. Director Kaye says he has lots more and could even make the material into a tele­vi­sion series. I for one would be interested.

8.5/10(8.5/10) — my graphic doesn’t show half-points

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El Ratón Pérez (The Hairy Tooth Fairy)

El Ratón Pérez (The Hairy Tooth Fairy) (Argentina/Spain, dir­ector Juan Pablo Buscarini): I don’t think I can write a sub­stan­tial review of this film since I was so sleepy during it. The week is catching up to me, and because I was with my wife and sit­ting in such a com­fort­able and dark envir­on­ment, I dozed off a few times. The film itself was quite good, though. A com­bin­a­tion of CGI and live-action, El Ratón Pérez is the story of what hap­pens to children’s teeth when they place them under their pil­lows. Unlike in North American and northern European cul­ture, the Latin American and Spanish legend is that a mouse named Mr. Perez takes the tooth away and replaces it with a coin. Nothing ter­ribly ori­ginal about the film, but it was well-made and charming, and the many chil­dren in the audi­ence seemed to appre­ciate it. One dis­trac­tion was that they had someone reading the English sub­titles into a micro­phone for the younger viewers. Having that com­peting with the Spanish-language soundtrack as well as the sub­titles made watching the film more difficult.

Visit the film’s web site

7/10(7/10)

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Exiled

by James McNally on September 15, 2006

in Film Festivals,TIFF

Exiled (Fong juk)

Exiled (Fong juk) (Hong Kong/China, dir­ector Johnnie To): Among lovers of Hong Kong cinema, Johnnie To is legendary. He had three films showing in this year’s fest­ival (Election (2005) and Election 2 (2006) screened together, as well as this film) and this was my first exper­i­ence seeing one of his films. I’ll be seeking out some others. Exiled is an incred­ibly well-constructed film. It’s like a Swiss watch, with every scene pre­cisely set up and cho­reo­graphed and nothing wasted. To has cre­ated a self-contained world and set his char­ac­ters loose in it. Set just around the time of Macau’s rever­sion to the Chinese gov­ern­ment, it con­cerns a group of hit men who come together when their boss orders a hit on one of them. Two pairs of men arrive at the target’s new home. The first to warn him, the second to kill him. After a kin­etic set piece involving three shooters, pre­cisely 18 bul­lets, and the target’s wife and infant son, the group ends up helping still-alive Wo move fur­niture into his new place, before set­tling down to eat.

The mix­ture of action, comedy, and sen­ti­ment is prob­ably a staple of Hong Kong gang­ster films, but I found it fresh. The plot con­tinues when the assas­sins agree to give Wo some time to carry out one last job to make some cash for his soon to be wid­owed wife and orphaned child. Things don’t go as planned, how­ever, and the film bumps along from set piece to set piece until an inev­it­able but sat­is­fying end. Each cho­reo­graphed set piece is set up in such a way as to heighten the anti­cip­a­tion, and you almost don’t mind that none of these trained killers seems to be a very good shot. It’s enough that they’re all ludicrously macho, swilling scotch from the bottle and smoking as they fire bul­lets at each other.

Seeing this one on the big screen is a must, just for the sound. The musical score, by Canadian Guy Zerafa, veered between James Bond and spa­ghetti west­erns, with a bit of mournful har­monica thrown in. It worked per­fectly, as did the fact that the viewer can hear every single shell casing hit the ground throughout the film. Even the gun­shots them­selves seemed dif­ferent from those in American films, with less blast and more metallic sounds. It cer­tainly helped create atmo­sphere. While this and the cho­reo­graphed gun­play never let you forget you’re watching a cre­ated thing rather than any semb­lance of reality, that actu­ally made me more appre­ci­ative of the cre­ator. He’s cer­tainly cre­ated another Johnnie To fan.

Trailer

Official web site

8/10(8/10)

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Blindsight

Blindsight (UK, dir­ector Lucy Walker): I loved this, and not just for the obvious reasons. Blindsight is a doc­u­mentary about a group of blind Tibetan teen­agers who attempt to climb one of Mount Everest’s sister peaks. Now, this kind of thing is usu­ally a can’t-miss. Inspirational. Moving. Pretty standard, right? And even if the film were just that, I’d still have liked it. But it was so much more. Blind her­self, German Sabriye Tenberken estab­lished a school for blind chil­dren in Tibet, in a cul­ture that sees blind­ness as a curse, as evid­ence that a person did bad things in a pre­vious life. Many of the chil­dren at the school have been shunned their whole lives, and at best, are a burden to their fam­ilies. As part of their edu­ca­tion, Tenberken shares with them the story of American Erik Weihenmayer, the first blind person to reach the summit of Mount Everest. She sends him a letter inviting him to come and visit her stu­dents. Instead, he comes up with a plan. He’ll arrange an exped­i­tion for them to climb 23,000 foot Lhakpa Ri and provide all the guides and equip­ment. Sabriye finds six willing par­ti­cipants and this is when the fun starts.

Erik’s team are mostly American, mostly male, and mostly sighted. As exper­i­enced moun­tain­eers, they’re Type-A per­son­al­ities, very gung-ho and goal-oriented. Sabriye is European, female, and blind, and the stu­dents for her are more than a “pro­ject,” no matter how well-intentioned. Additionally, the stu­dents are Tibetan, and not old enough or con­fident enough to always stand up for them­selves. As the exped­i­tion unfolds, they become pawns in between the two adult “sides,” wanting to please both, while at the same time wanting to gain the con­fid­ence that comes from accom­plish­ment. As an addi­tional obstacle (other than being blind, that is), they are speaking English as a second or in most cases, a third lan­guage, and struggle to under­stand and make them­selves understood.

When it turns out that none of the stu­dents have any climbing exper­i­ence, and that some are much more coordin­ated than others, it begins to unravel Erik’s ori­ginal plan for them all to reach the summit together. As both stu­dents and teachers begin to suffer the effects of high alti­tude, decisions must be made as to whether to con­tinue on or to send some down the moun­tain. Among the effects of high alti­tude is increased irrit­ab­ility, and you can see how this feeds the con­flict between the adults. At the risk of over­sim­pli­fying, on one side are those for whom the des­tin­a­tion is all, and on the other are those who just want to enjoy the journey. I won’t tell you how it all turns out, except to say that this was one of the most sur­prising and thought-provoking stories I’ve seen in a long time.

The film also weaves bits of each climber’s story into the nar­rative, and this was sorely needed, since once on the climb, the kids tended to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. With all the drama going on around them, that wasn’t sur­prising. The back­stories are by turns charming and heart­breaking, and I found it very strange that I found myself closer to tears at the begin­ning of the film than at the end. This was con­trary to my expect­a­tions, and another pleasant surprise.

In addi­tion to all the human drama to cover, dir­ector Walker and her small crew had to con­tend with the frigid and oxygen-deprived con­di­tions her­self, lug­ging equip­ment up the moun­tains and hoping it wouldn’t break down. As with all great doc­u­ment­aries, the film­maker was just lucky enough (or smart enough, or pre­pared enough) to be at the right place at the right time, and she’s cap­tured a very spe­cial story that has as much to say about people who want to do “what’s best for the kids” as it does about the kids themselves.

Visit the film’s web site

Braille Without Borders (Sabriye Tenberken’s organization)

10/10(10/10)

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