September 2006

Ironweed Film Club

While I’m going on about films, I’d be crazy not to men­tion Ironweed Film Club. This is a monthly ser­vice, a bit sim­ilar to Film Movement (except they’ll actu­ally deliver to Canada!), but the films are mostly doc­u­ment­aries with a pro­gressive view­point. The price is US$14.95/month, and all the films I’ve received so far have been excel­lent and thought-provoking. Here are some of the films they’ve fea­tured over the past few months:

The way I dis­covered them was while searching for a DVD of “The Education of Shelby Knox,” an amazing doc­u­mentary I saw at Hot Docs in 2005. Another bonus is that even when some of these films are avail­able on DVD else­where, Ironweed’s are almost always cheaper and often include bonus films.

FULL DISCLOSURE: If you click the Ironweed link above and sign up with them, I get a free month. But my desire to get lots of free months should tell you how much I really value a ser­vice like this. Please sign up!

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The Sugar Curtain

The Sugar Curtain (Spain/Cuba/France, dir­ector Camila Guzmán Urzúa): Strangely and almost unin­ten­tion­ally apolit­ical, this film is a per­sonal remem­brance of growing up in the 70s and 80s in Cuba. The dir­ector seems to have shot all of the footage her­self, making it more like a home movie. And it’s incred­ibly nos­talgic, with lots of com­par­isons of old photos with the present. But the film’s thesis, if I can use a word that strong, is impossible to prove in this con­text, even if it’s cor­rect. The dir­ector seems to be saying that life in Cuba in her child­hood was good, that Castro’s revolu­tion was achieving pos­itive res­ults and that the end of the Cold War was dis­astrous for Cuba. But this is pretty self-evident. We see a lot of run-down or aban­doned build­ings that were in good repair thirty years ago. We hear inter­views with her class­mates who agree that things aren’t as good any­more. I don’t want to sound facetious, but I could prob­ably make a pretty sim­ilar film about my own childhood.

When she talks to stu­dents at her old high school, about the only priva­tion she can uncover is that they no longer get snacks. In the director’s child­hood, they got chocolate bis­cuits and fizzy drinks. But in a society where the gov­ern­ment provided so much (and still does, com­pared with the rest of the world), these examples seem a bit forced. I’m sure life in Cuba is dif­fi­cult for many, but from the evid­ence of the film, it still seems to be doing pretty well. For a society that has with­stood a trade embargo from the world’s richest nation for more than fifty years, and whose biggest bene­factor cut it off more than fif­teen years ago, it’s doing remark­ably well. Its chil­dren are lit­erate and fed, and it seems to have avoided the extremes of poverty seen in many parts of the Caribbean and Latin America.

Unfortunately, I think the director’s com­plaints are fairly uni­versal. The idealism we feel in our youth turns into dis­il­lu­sion­ment as we age. The forces of glob­al­iz­a­tion and cap­it­alism are affecting Cuba, even as Castro tries to hold them at bay. The fact that the dir­ector and many of her class­mates left Cuba in the 1990s (during the “Special Period” that fol­lowed the end of the Cold War, a time of tre­mendous eco­nomic hard­ship for Cubans) also clouds the pic­ture. How does her memory of Cuba as a socialist para­dise differ from the memories of the anti-Castro crowd in Miami, who remember pre-revolutionary Cuba as a dif­ferent kind of para­dise? Both are unre­li­able and nostalgic.

While the film was enjoy­able as a window into one person’s exper­i­ence, and it was great to see the modern footage of life on the island, overall I found it unsatisfying.

6/10(6/10)

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The Way I Spent The End Of The World

The Way I Spent The End Of The World (Romania/France, dir­ector Catalin Mitulescu): This was an earnest but uneven film about life in Romania during the final months of Ceausescu’s rule in 1989. Teenaged Eva and her young brother Lalalilu live with their par­ents and suffer the hard­ships of living under a hated dic­tator. Since their neigh­bour is a cop, they have to be careful what they say, and Eva’s par­ents encourage her bud­ding romance with the policeman’s son Alex because of what the family con­nec­tion could do for them. Instead, her rebel­lious atti­tude gets her expelled from her school and sent to a tech­nical school for troubled stu­dents. There she con­nects with another neigh­bour, Andrei, whose family have already been pun­ished for protesting against the regime. Together they make plans to escape Romania by swim­ming across the Danube, but when the cru­cial moment comes, Eva turns back.

Meanwhile, Lilu is plot­ting with his friends how to kill the dic­tator. Young Timotei Duma is very remin­is­cent of Salvatore Cascio, who played young Salvatore (Toto) in Cinema Paradiso. Which means he was extremely cute, and some of his scenes were the best in the film. There are two whim­sical scenes where we seem to enter his child­like world: one is set in a sub­marine taxi where all the vil­la­gers can be taken to whatever city in Europe they wish to visit, and the other visu­al­izes the boy blowing a huge chewing gum bubble that becomes so large that it floats away. Clearly, the theme of escape is on everyone’s mind.

I wish there had been more scenes like that. Instead, most of the film con­sists of Eva’s various meet­ings with Alex or Andrei and very little dia­logue. For a main char­acter, she was just a little too enig­matic. I def­in­itely felt the film could have used a bit more dia­logue and a bit more editing to speed the pace a bit. As well, the ending could have used a bit more explic­a­tion. There are some pic­tures of Ceaucescu on live tele­vi­sion and what appears to be live cov­erage of him fleeing but there is no explan­a­tion. For Romanians this might be self-evident but for the rest of the world, we could use a little bit of help.

The ending itself is quite lovely, with the increasing ten­sion sud­denly released with Ceaucescu’s fall. And there were some moments of dark humour, as when the stu­dents are required to sing pat­ri­otic songs about how won­derful their lives are in Romania when it’s plain that everyone is living in misery. But there is a bit of unex­plained busi­ness at the end sur­rounding the policeman and his son Alex that bothered me. As well, there were a few strange cine­ma­to­graph­ical choices throughout the film that proved dis­tracting. Scenes would be clum­sily blocked by objects as if the dir­ector didn’t quite know where to place his camera. It’s not a huge sur­prise to dis­cover that this is Catalin Mitulescu’s first fea­ture film.

7/10(7/10)

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Offside

by James McNally on September 11, 2006

in Film Festivals,TIFF

Offside

Offside (Iran, dir­ector Jafar Panahi): Filmed during an actual qual­i­fying match for the 2006 World Cup, Offside works bril­liantly as both a comedy and a tragedy. The film fol­lows the for­tunes of a group of young women who are caught trying to sneak into a foot­ball match at Tehran’s Azadi Stadium. The country’s Islamic reli­gious leaders have decreed that women may not sit with men at sporting events, lest they be exposed to cursing and other mor­ally ques­tion­able beha­viour. This hasn’t stopped the country’s young female fans, who con­tinue to sneak in using various tricks. But Panahi focuses on a small group who have been caught and are being detained agon­iz­ingly close to the action. They beg the bored sol­diers guarding them to let them go or at least to let them watch the match. The sol­diers tell them they shouldn’t have tried to get in, that they could have watched the game at home on TV. They banter back and forth in almost real-time as the game con­tinues, just off-camera.

There is one very funny sequence where a young sol­dier accom­panies one of the girls to the restroom. Since there are no female restrooms at sta­diums, he has to clear the room of any men before he can allow her to go in. Plus, he makes her cover her face so no one can see she’s a woman. This is accom­plished using a poster of Iranian soccer star Ali Karimi as a mask, with eye holes punched out.

You get a real sense that even the sol­diers are baffled by the pro­hib­i­tion, and are only car­rying out their orders so as to hasten the end of their com­pulsory mil­itary ser­vice. One sol­dier com­plains that he was sup­posed to be on leave so he could take care of his family’s cattle in the coun­tryside. Little by little, the girls and the sol­diers talk to each other, and there are numerous small acts of kind­ness on both sides to show that these are basic­ally good people living in ter­rible cir­cum­stances. However, the sol­diers’ con­stant reminder that “the chief” is on his way lends a sense of menace, since we don’t know what sort of pun­ish­ment the women will face.

Unlike most Iranian films, which are known for their strong visuals, Offside is filmed in a realist style with no arti­fice. In fact, the film was made during the actual qual­i­fying match against Bahrain that took place on June 5, 2005. The “plot” in many ways was determ­ined by the result on the pitch. If Iran won the match, they would qualify. If they lost, they would not. Since the World Cup has come and gone, I don’t think it is a spoiler to say that Iran won the match. The scenes of cel­eb­ra­tion at the end of the film were real and spon­tan­eous, which gave the film a real authen­ti­city. Seeing how much this meant to the people of Iran was deeply touching.

As well, one of the young women makes ref­er­ence at the end of the film to seven fans who died during the Iran-Japan match on March 25, just a few weeks before. They were trampled to death after police began to spray the crowd with water to move them in a cer­tain dir­ec­tion. Knowing that this was a real-life tragedy added another level of poignancy to the celebrations.

I don’t want to go off on a long polit­ical tan­gent, but this film gave me real hope that there are those in Iran who are hoping for change and working at it. Iran is a nation of young people, and it is only a matter of time before they take the place of their elders in the polit­ical sphere. Films like this one show the proud spirit of the Iranian people in spite of their present dif­fi­culties, and it’s my sin­cere hope that there is a brighter future for them.

Interview with dir­ector Jafar Panahi

Interview with dir­ector Jafar Panahi at Reverse Shot

Good review from Sight and Sound magazine

9/10(9/10)

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The Host

by James McNally on September 11, 2006

in Film Festivals,TIFF

The Host

The Host (Korea, dir­ector Bong Joon-ho): A huge box office hit in Korea, The Host is a good old-fashioned mon­ster movie, and a lot more. The dir­ector intro­duced the screening by saying that the film isn’t really a mon­ster movie at all, but an emo­tional Korean family drama, and he’s right, mostly.

The family in ques­tion is a strange one. There are no mothers and no spouses, just a grand­father, his three unmar­ried chil­dren, and the daughter of his eldest son, whose mother aban­doned her shortly after she was born. The grand­father and eldest son run a food stand next to the Han River, and one day, a gigantic lizard-like mon­ster emerges from the water and attacks the people pic­nicking along the riverb­anks. In the pro­cess, 13-year-old Hyun-seo is car­ried off before the hor­ri­fied eyes of her father Kang-du. The family grieves together in the hos­pital to where they’ve all been quar­ant­ined until Kang-du receives a staticky cell-phone call from his daughter, who is alive and beg­ging him to come and rescue her from the monster’s lair, some­where in the sewer system.

The reason for the quar­antine is that the gov­ern­ment believes the mon­ster is car­rying some sort of virus and are trying to limit exposure to the rest of the city. The problem is that they’ve called back all the troops that they’d first sent to cap­ture the mon­ster, and now it falls to this dys­func­tional family to find their child. After breaking out of the hos­pital, the whole group embarks on a search and rescue mis­sion armed only with a couple of rifles and sister Nam-ju’s bow (she’s a bronze medal-winning archer). They’re all inef­fec­tual in unique ways. While Nam-ju (Bae Doo-Na, so great in last year’s Linda Linda Linda) is an excel­lent archer, she’s slow to take aim, which cost her the gold medal. Brother Nam-il is a uni­ver­sity graduate who can’t find work, so he’s turned to booze. And Kang-du is just gen­er­ally lazy and a bit dim-witted.

There is quite a bit of humour in the way the family mem­bers interact, as well as a fair bit of social and polit­ical satire at the expense of both the Korean and U.S. gov­ern­ments (the Americans are blamed for dumping toxic waste that cre­ated the mon­ster in the first place). This was amusing, though pretty heavy-handed.

The cine­ma­to­graphy made use of lots of rain and cloudy skies to convey the claus­tro­phobic feeling of the sewers even when we weren’t actu­ally there. In fact, the only sunny skies in the film occur just before the monster’s first appearance.

While I did find the film enjoy­able, I felt it ran a bit long, and stretched cred­ib­ility a few times too many. It’s a mon­ster movie, after all, so maybe I shouldn’t have had such high expect­a­tions. The effects are well-done and it was cer­tainly fun to watch, but it’s not an art film by any stretch of the ima­gin­a­tion. The theme seemed to be that even dys­func­tional fam­ilies are still fam­ilies, and that we need to take care of each other and not expect our gov­ern­ments to pro­tect or rescue us.

7/10(7/10)

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