April 2010

The Kids Grow Up

The Kids Grow Up (Director: Doug Block): Personal film­making at its rawest, The Kids Grow Up is some­thing of a follow-up to Doug Block’s pre­vious film, 51 Birch Street. In the earlier film, Block explored his par­ents’ mar­riage and how his mother and father’s choices had affected him and his sis­ters as adults. It was also a film about get­ting to know your par­ents as people and not just as the roles they played in your upbringing. In his latest film, he explores how his daughter Lucy’s impending depar­ture for col­lege is affecting him and his wife Marjorie. Both films are about let­ting people break free of their familial roles, but in this one, it’s less about uncov­ering a mys­tery and more about dealing head-on with the pas­sage of time.

Since he is a doc­u­mentary film­maker, he’s been filming his daughter since she was a baby and so he has an abund­ance of material to show her growing up. I par­tic­u­larly liked a sequence where from behind the camera, he asks his daughter, then 10 years old, “How was your child­hood?”. The quick-witted Lucy doesn’t miss a beat. “Daddy, I’m 10 years old. I’m still a child!” The dir­ector isn’t quite as self-aware, at least until it dawns on him that Lucy’s leaving home must signal the end of his own arrested adoles­cence. In his zeal to be the polar opposite of his own dis­tant father, he’s become his daughter’s “buddy” and is feeling her very neces­sary sep­ar­a­tion from him as aban­don­ment. To make mat­ters worse, Marjorie, who had seemed more at ease with the trans­ition, sud­denly suf­fers a major depressive episode and can barely leave her bed for sev­eral months. Doug’s help­less­ness during this period made me think that his real anxiety over Lucy’s depar­ture was about how his rela­tion­ship with Marjorie would change. They would no longer have Lucy as a shared focus, but would instead be back to focusing on each other.

The Kids Grow Up

The Kids Grow Up is a wonderfully-edited film that doc­u­ments an important time in the life of Lucy Block, but more import­antly, it doc­u­ments a time of mat­ur­a­tion for her father. Lucy comes across throughout the film (even as a young child) as remark­ably self-assured and inde­pendent. We know that she will be fine at col­lege, and wherever she goes after that. But along with her father, we mourn her child­hood a little bit, knowing that she has to leave it behind. She doesn’t need the film to help her grow up, but we come to realize that it’s an important mile­stone for Doug. In mourning her childhood’s passing, he’s also mourning his own, but it helps him enter into a new phase of adult­hood. By the end, he’s even becoming more com­fort­able calling him­self grand­father to his stepson’s little boy. When I first heard the title of this film, I thought it was just an expres­sion that par­ents used when they spoke to each other. But I came to realize that in the case of Doug Block and his daughter Lucy, he was talking about two kids, his daughter and him­self. And it’s almost as much fun watching the father grow up as the little girl.

Official site of the film

8/10(8/10)

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Citizen Architect: Samuel Mockbee and the Spirit of the Rural Studio

Citizen Architect: Samuel Mockbee and the Spirit of the Rural Studio (Director: Samuel Wainwright Douglas): Believing strongly that archi­tec­ture is not just for rich people living in cities like New York or Chicago, Auburn pro­fessor Samuel “Sambo” Mockbee founded the Rural Studio in 1993 in Hale County, Alabama, many of whose inhab­it­ants live in abject poverty. The studio was estab­lished as a way for stu­dents to gain some prac­tical exper­i­ence while also helping the rural com­munities around it. Since its founding, stu­dents and instructors have lived and worked together to build everything from houses, animal shel­ters, churches and even a boys’ and girls’ club.

Although Mockbee him­self died in 2001, dir­ector Douglas uses a wealth of inter­view footage from 1999 in which Mockbee pas­sion­ately argues that archi­tects must be a part of the com­munity they’re designing for. He’s also adamant that stu­dents of archi­tec­ture actu­ally get to build some of their aca­demic pro­jects, unlike at many schools where stu­dent work is strictly the­or­et­ical. Not everyone has agreed with Mockbee’s ideas; Yale pro­fessor and archi­tect Peter Eisenman doesn’t believe, for instance, that he needs to know the people who will be living or working in the build­ings he designs to know what they need. But Mockbee and his col­leagues at the Rural Studio argue just the opposite. The film fol­lows a few of his stu­dents and their pro­jects over the past ten years.

Using mostly recycled and donated mater­ials, the architect/builders of the Rural Studio are hoping to make a pos­itive impact on some of the most neg­lected com­munities in America. Although for some, this will mark a phase on their pro­fes­sional journey, Mockbee’s pas­sionate desire was for this exper­i­ence to change his stu­dents’ lives forever. Although we don’t get a sense of where most of the par­ti­cipants have ended up, it’s clear that Mockbee’s ideas have influ­enced other archi­tects and organ­iz­a­tions. In Utah, Design/Build Bluff con­structs sim­ilar pro­jects on Navajo reser­va­tions, while Architecture for Humanity is doing this kind of socially-conscious archi­tec­ture all over the world.

Citizen Architect is a fit­ting tribute to a man more of us should know about. I was happy to see some of the work that he and his stu­dents have accom­plished in Alabama, but I’m even hap­pier to see that his influ­ence has begun to spread far beyond the rural South. As the film notes, there are far more people living in shantytowns and rural areas than there are living in the tra­di­tional centres where archi­tects have his­tor­ic­ally plied their trade. Hopefully, more of them will under­stand how much they are needed out­side the glit­tering cities of glass and steel.

Official site of the film

7/10(7/10)

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NFB Digital Viewing Station

The National Film Board of Canada recently made its entire cata­logue of films avail­able for free online viewing, which is great if you have reg­ular access to a com­puter with a fast Internet con­nec­tion. For others, at least in Toronto and Montréal, your altern­ative is to strap your­self into one of the funky per­sonal digital viewing sta­tions at the Toronto Mediatheque or the Montréal CineRobotheque where you can watch films to your heart’s con­tent for just $2/day. In yet another example of the NFB’s lead­er­ship, it is doing away with the fee alto­gether as of May 1st, which means free NFB films for (just about) everyone.

If you’re not being swept up next week by Hot Docs, or even if you are, drop by the Mediatheque at 150 John St. and check out some of the NFB’s 5,500 films for free!

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Hot Docs 2010

I realize that I’ve been unchar­ac­ter­ist­ic­ally silent on the sub­ject of Hot Docs this year, which is unusual since it is my favourite film fest­ival by some margin. But rest assured, I’ve been hard at work behind the scenes making sure that Toronto Screen Shots will offer more cov­erage this year than ever before. Along with my trusty cor­res­pond­ents Jay Kerr and Drew Kerr (should we call them the Doc Brothers?), I’m hoping to offer reviews of at least 20 titles from North America’s largest doc­u­mentary film festival.

From more than 2,000 sub­mis­sions, Hot Docs’ team of pro­gram­mers has selected 166 films to be screened between April 29 and May 9 at venues across the city. Tickets and passes are on sale now, and as always, are the best bar­gain going for film lovers in this city. If you visit the box office in person (at Hazelton Lanes, on the lower level), you can even pick up DVDs from the Hot Docs Collection at a spe­cial price of just $15.95.

I won’t be posting full reviews until the fest­ival starts, but here are a few reviews that will be going up for films I can def­in­itely recommend:

  • Gasland — a hor­ri­fying exposé of the environmentally-damaging prac­tice of drilling nat­ural gas wells, set to some very jaunty banjo music.
  • The Kids Grow Up — a film­maker works through his feel­ings of aban­don­ment as his teen­aged daughter pre­pares to leave home for college.
  • Marwencol — a man recovers from a vicious beating which left him in a coma by building a mini­ature World War 2 vil­lage in his backyard.

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Free Jafar Panahi

Tuesday April 20th at 7:30pm, Cinecycle (129 Spadina, in the coach house down the lane behind the main house)

From the Facebook page of an event being organ­ized by my friend Polly:

Award-winning film­maker Jafar Panahi is recog­nized by film the­or­ists and critics world­wide as one of the most influ­en­tial film­makers in the Iranian New Wave movement.

On March 1st of this year, Panahi was arrested at his home together with his wife, daughter and 15 dinner guests. Although the others have since been released Panahi is still being detained and has not been offi­cially charged with any crime.

The inter­na­tional Facebook group Free Jafar Panahi is plan­ning screen­ings of some of Panahi’s best known films during the week of April 15th to 21st to show our sup­port. So far there are screen­ings being booked in Spain, Finland, India, Argentina, Germany, Latvia, Armenia. I am very pleased to add Canada to this list.

As part of this coordin­ated show of sup­port Toronto will host a screening of Panahi’s 2006 film “Offside”. Six Iranian girls defy the law for­bid­ding women from attending sporting events by dis­guising them­selves as boys in order to enter Tehran’s Azadi Stadium to watch the 2006 World Cup Asian zone qual­i­fier between Iran and Bahrain. However, their pres­ence is dis­covered and they are arrested one by one.

Winner of the Silver Bear Award (2006 Berlin International Film Festival) and 2006 Amnesty International Film Award (Ljubljana International Film Festival), the Globe and Mail says “Offside”, “uses soccer to speak volumes about the gulf between Iran’s reli­gious rulers and its cit­izens — espe­cially the women.”

Tickets $10.00 Doors open at 7pm. All pro­ceeds from this screening will be donated to Amnesty International.

Many thanks to the kind cooper­a­tion of Mongrel Media for making this screening possible.

I’m proud to sup­port this cause and will be attending the screening. The film is won­derful, and if you like, you can read my review from TIFF 2006. Please RSVP on the Facebook page.

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