From the monthly archives:

September 2009

enRoute Film Festival 2009

Over time, I’ve grown to appre­ciate short films more and more, and since their oppor­tun­ities for the­at­rical release are so lim­ited, I’m always glad to see shorts pop­ping up in inter­esting places. For the past few years, Air Canada has sponsored the enRoute Film Festival, in which shorts by emer­ging Canadian film­makers are fea­tured on the seat-back enter­tain­ment sys­tems on Air Canada flights. But it can’t rightly be called a fest­ival unless there are awards and a big public screening, right?

So on October 20, there will be a free public screening of the short­l­isted nom­inees for the fest’s awards. It will take place from 7:00–8:00pm at the Scotiabank Theatre here in Toronto. You can get an idea of the quality of the nom­in­ated films by vis­iting the web site, where many of the films are streaming. In addi­tion to being able to see the films on the big screen, sev­eral mem­bers of the jury will be present, including actors Remy Girard and Lisa Ray and dir­ector Deepa Mehta.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Though there’s scarcely any men­tion of it online, I’ve just been noti­fied about a monthly screening series of Finnish and Icelandic films that takes place at the NFB Mediatheque (150 John St.). Tickets for the Icelandic films are $8, while the Finnish ones screen for free. All screen­ings begin at 7:00pm. Here’s the schedule for the 2009–2010 series:

If you’re a fan of Nordic cinema, and why wouldn’t you be, put these dates in your cal­endar right now and maybe I’ll see you at one of the screenings.

Nordic Nights is presented by the Finnish and Icelandic con­su­lates in Toronto as well as the Icelandic Canadian Club of Toronto.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

The Age of Stupid

The Age of Stupid (Director: Franny Armstrong): I’ve been fol­lowing the story of this film for more than a year now and was glad to finally be able to see it last night at the Canadian premiere. The Age of Stupid is unique because the cre­ators have used the Internet to crowd­fund the making of the film, and they’re doing the same thing to dis­tribute and pro­mote it. This Huffington Post art­icle applauds the film­makers for enga­ging with the audi­ence dir­ectly and using social media tools to accom­plish a lot on a lim­ited budget. Even if they film was simply mediocre, the amount of work they’ve put into spreading the word will con­tain les­sons for many film­makers trying to get their films seen without the backing of a major studio. Luckily, the film is far from mediocre.

Essentially an envir­on­mental doc­u­mentary, what sets The Age of Stupid apart is its clever framing device and bril­liant editing. Pete Postlethwaite stars as the arch­ivist, a lone figure watching over a col­lec­tion of the earth’s greatest treas­ures in a building high above the Arctic sea. The year is 2055 and he’s looking back at video evid­ence of the envir­on­mental degrad­a­tion that we could have avoided. As he accesses and moves clips around his screen, he won­ders mourn­fully why we didn’t do any­thing to avoid this cata­strophe. In this way, dir­ector Franny Armstrong can show us sev­eral dif­ferent doc­u­mentary threads within a (sci­ence) fic­tional frame­work. The editing is slick and the way in which some of the seg­ments are ordered makes for a powerful and thought-provoking viewing experience.

For instance, one of the threads fol­lows Indian entre­preneur Jeh Wadia as he attempts to launch a low-cost air­line in India. He sees his mis­sion as bene­fi­cial, allowing all Indians access to cheap air travel. But in some of the other seg­ments, we learn that the greatest con­trib­utor to green­house gases is air travel. It’s going to be very dif­fi­cult to con­vince people in the devel­oping world to give up things that we have taken for granted for many years. Another affecting story is that of French moun­tain guide Fernand Pereau, who has watched the gla­ciers in the French Alps melt over the past fifty years. His mournful 82-year-old face has seen a lot of “pro­gress” and as he says, we know quite well how to profit from the earth, but not to pro­tect it.

Even those who are working for change are coming up against obstacles. Piers Guy is working to expand the use of wind power tur­bines in the UK, but he faces oppos­i­tion every­where from people who don’t want the tur­bines to “spoil the view.” His frus­tra­tion is palp­able and is being played out all over the world. In fact, the film itself doesn’t really offer a lot of solu­tions, but it does do a good job of expressing the all-encompassing nature of the problem. Luckily, the film­makers have partnered with many organ­iz­a­tions who are working for change, and have estab­lished another web­site, NotStupid.org which will serve as a con­stantly evolving resource for action.

The film also uses anim­a­tion to take on such wide-ranging topics as resource wars and con­sumerism. I can see this being a must-see for stu­dents, and much less dry than An Inconvenient Truth. Even the title hints at the ample humour in the film, even if it is just to reit­erate how stupid our beha­viour has been. I’m also impressed that the film­makers have made a huge effort to have the film shown in every country in the world. In fact, the Global Premiere is taking place over two days, September 21st and 22nd. This guar­an­tees world­wide media cov­erage and might even help the issue of cli­mate change reach crit­ical mass in the col­lective con­scious­ness of the humans on an ailing Planet Earth.

Note: Last night’s Canadian premiere was sponsored by the Climate Action Network who recom­mended that people sign the peti­tion at KyotoPlus.ca. Another good resource is tck tck tck. The film will have its first public screening in Toronto on Saturday October 3rd at 6:30 at the Royal Cinema as part of the inaug­ural M.U.C.K. (Movies of Uncommon Knowledge) Film Festival.

Official site of the film

9/10(9/10)

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Well, I should cla­rify. Good news for fans of Icelandic cinema, that is. If you’re a cinema buff from Iceland, this post may only be of interest to a subset of you.

In any case, des­pite being under­whelmed by the two Icelandic films screened at this year’s TIFF, I remain a huge fan of the films and dir­ectors of this tiny island nation. One of the high­lights of my trip to Reykjavik last September was being present at two recep­tions hosted by the Icelandic Film Centre in which my wife and I were wined and dined and able to mingle with some of the actors and dir­ectors of this intimate fra­ternity. So I was very happy to find two new (or new to me) sites that focus on the cinema of Iceland.

Iceland Cinema Now has some offi­cial sup­port from the Icelandic Film Centre, the Association of Icelandic Film Producers and the Icelandic Film School, so I expect it will be more a source of news rather than any crit­ical opin­ions. For that, I’ll be con­sulting Iceland On Screen, a blog written by UK native Ben Hopkins. He’s reviewing all kinds of Icelandic films and I’m looking for­ward to diving into his archives. His recent inter­view with Icelandic film critic Ásgrímur Sverrisson was par­tic­u­larly inter­esting. Since Iceland is such a small com­munity, it can be dif­fi­cult to main­tain crit­ical dis­tance when a lot of the film­makers are your friends.

Since one of the major hurdles to greater exposure for Iceland’s films is the gen­eral unavail­ab­ility of DVDs, I’m glad to see that Iceland Cinema Now is in the pro­cess of set­ting up an online store. Hopefully, there will be a good selec­tion of films with English sub­titles avail­able, though I sus­pect anyone in North America may require a region-free DVD player.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Air Doll (Kûki ningyô)

Air Doll (Kûki ningyô) (Director: Hirokazu Kore-eda): The premise of Air Doll seems silly at best, sala­cious at worst: an inflat­able sex doll comes to life. In the hands of another dir­ector, the res­ulting film would prob­ably have been a standard sex comedy. But Kore-eda, whose pre­vious TIFF appear­ances have been with thoughtful films like Still Walking and Nobody Knows, turns the film into an abso­lutely cap­tiv­ating med­it­a­tion on what it means to be human.

One morning, Nozomi, a “sex sub­sti­tute”, finds that she has acquired a heart. Puzzled, she dresses her­self in the maid’s outfit her owner has bought for her, and ven­tures out. By mim­icking the speech and actions of her neigh­bours, she learns to fit in, and she soon lands a job working at a video store, where she begins to fall in love with her co-worker. Casting the won­derful Bae Doo Na (Linda Linda Linda, The Host) was a stroke of genius. Her wide-eyed wonder at everything in the world is beau­tiful to watch, and the scenes of her joy­fully dis­cov­ering everything around her put a big smile on my face.

Though she is “owned” by a lonely waiter, he doesn’t realize what has happened and even­tu­ally buys a replace­ment doll. One of the big themes of the film is the idea of sub­sti­tu­tion and replace­ment, that in a big and imper­sonal city like Tokyo, it’s easy to feel unim­portant. Kore-eda assembles a sup­porting cast of neigh­bour­hood char­ac­ters who are all strug­gling with loneli­ness; the old man who sits on the park bench, the single father of a young daughter, the middle-aged hotel clerk wor­ried that a younger woman will soon replace her, the bulimic young woman who refuses to work on her par­ents’ apple farm. Unfortunately, our inter­ac­tions with these char­ac­ters is fleeting, giving a cli­mactic scene near the end a little less impact than I think it should have. As well, a few nar­rative threads are con­fusing which moment­arily pulls us out of this lovely fable.

Bae Doo Na is abso­lutely fear­less in her per­form­ance, whether she’s naked phys­ic­ally or emo­tion­ally. When the joy of dis­covery inev­it­ably gives way to the pain of rejec­tion and “replace­ment,” I was never less than mes­mer­ized by her per­form­ance and her beauty. The film takes a turn for the tragic, as might be expected, but the ending is actu­ally some­what upbeat, and throughout, Kore-eda power­fully reminds us that we are not meant to be alone in this world. Visually beau­tiful and with a beating emo­tional heart, just like Nozomi, Air Doll is def­in­itely a film I’m eager to catch again soon.

9/10(9/10)

{ Comments on this entry are closed }