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Brooke Smith

Second Sight

Second Sight (2008, Director: Alison McAlpine): Through the wit and charm of near-80 Donald Angus MacLean, film­maker Alison McAlpine explores the oral tra­di­tion in northern Scotland on the Isle of Skye. Donald “Angie” is quite a char­acter, an enter­taining rogue with an eye for the ladies and an ear for a good story. A former preacher, Donald drives around the town in his red car (his name written across the trunk), his dog in the pas­senger seat, vis­iting a few of the island’s even more enter­taining char­ac­ters. These res­id­ents reveal their stories of pre­mon­i­tions, spectres and ghost cars. Their ability to see what is unseen, known as second sight, is set against the hills, moors and mist that make up the island. However, these are not simply ghost stories—at least, that’s what the res­id­ents would have you believe. They tell their tales in earnest, retelling them as if what they wit­nessed happened only hours earlier. McAlpine cer­tainly cap­tures the overall eeri­ness of the sub­ject while at the same time framing the beau­tiful land­scape that is Scotland north. With a few laughs along the way, Second Sight will make you think twice about the things you cannot see.

Official site of the film

9/10(9/10)

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Steypa

Steypa (2007, Directors: Markús Thór Andrésson and Ragnheidur Gestsdóttir): I’m not a con­tem­porary art con­nois­seur by any means, but my reason for choosing Steypa was simple. It’s about Iceland. My hus­band and I are trav­el­ling to the island country in September this year for the Reykjavik International Film Festival, so any chance I get to see the Icelandic cul­ture and envir­on­ment, I jump.

Steypa is an enjoy­able film. The film’s title has two mean­ings. Steypa is the word for con­crete, as in the material used in con­struc­tion. It also can be used to refer to some­thing that is weird, dif­ferent or unusual. And looking at the con­tem­porary art scene in Iceland, weird, dif­ferent or unusual is cer­tainly fit­ting. The dir­ectors focus on seven artists, fol­lowing them as they choose their mater­ials, dis­play their art in gal­leries and work on their cre­ations. Amid the quirky pieces of art, how­ever, I found myself more amused and charmed by the artists them­selves. Or rather, at their Icelandic sense of humour (if you’ve seen films by Icelander Robert Douglas, you’ll know what I mean). One artist fills Fanta bottles with Pepsi, but admits that he is actu­ally using Coke. “It’s cheaper,” he says. Another steals plant clip­pings from a seniors’ apart­ment, noting that no one will really notice if they’re missing.

Even though I would not actu­ally hang any of the artists’ work in my apart­ment, I appre­ciate their focus and integ­rity to their art. There is no limit to their resource­ful­ness and creativity.

The one cri­ti­cism I have is that even though each artist is always titled (through a rather snazzy bit of rainbow-coloured anim­a­tion), I found it rather con­fusing to remember which artist was which. Barring that, Steypa really is true to a North American meaning of con­crete: solid, but with a little weird thrown in.

Trailer

7/10(7/10)

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Echoes of Home (Heimatklänge)

Echoes of Home (Heimatklänge) (Director: Stefan Schwietert, Switzerland/Germany, 2007): You might think a doc­u­mentary about yodeling — wait, yodeling? Yes, you read right — may induce yawning from an audi­ence, but Echoes of Home proves the con­trary. It invest­ig­ates yodeling through the eyes (and vocal cords) of three Swiss musi­cians: Christian Zehnder, Erika Stucky and Noldi Alder. In some way I was pre­pared for an 81-minute ver­sion of the Lonely Goatherd song from The Sound of Music, a fun song, albeit Richard Rodgers’ “music­al­ized” take on the Swiss tra­di­tion. But what I got was a beau­tiful film about the tra­di­tional yodeling as expressed by Noldi (part of the famous Alder family) and the more con­tem­porary sounds of Christian and Erika. Their voices mim­icked seagulls at the shore or the chug­ging of a loco­motive or a baby’s cry. It sounded odd at first, but I grew accus­tomed to the word­less, har­mo­nious notes.

Schwietert cap­tures these musi­cians in various set­tings, whether in front of an audi­ence, on the moun­tains, in the kit­chen or in a pub. They need no con­cert hall, only a quiet space — a void — to create sound.

Although about 10 minutes too long (there were sev­eral points around the 70-minute mark where it could have ended), the film cer­tainly war­rants a look – and a listen. And if the har­mo­nious sounds are too much, just mute the DVD and enjoy the scenery.

Official site for the film

9/10(9/10)

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Editor’s Note: In addi­tion to Jay and myself, from time to time we’d like to fea­ture some guest reviewers who can help us cover even more films than we can on our own. Brooke Smith is a pro­fes­sional journ­alist and movie buff, and best of all, she’s my wife. Hopefully, I can con­vince her to post a few more of her reviews.

The Bodybuilder and I

The Bodybuilder and I (Director: Bryan Friedman, Canada, 2007): I was looking for­ward to this doc­u­mentary as I have been known to do a few bench presses at the gym. But body­building was simply the back­drop for this very per­sonal journey for a son and father.

Bill Friedman had been a bad hus­band, a work­aholic and an absent father. But after a second divorce and a bout of depres­sion, he quit his job at the law firm, headed to the gym and started pumping iron. In fact, he became a com­pet­itive bodybuilder.

Knowing this inform­a­tion from reading the syn­opsis gave me a bias. I didn’t like Bill. He was obnox­ious, gruff and…well, let’s just say I felt for his son, dir­ector Bryan Friedman. I took Bryan’s side against an absent father who never had time for his kids, who was only looking out for number one, per­haps someone who didn’t deserve a son.

Yet, at a turning point in the film, when Bryan and Bill dis­cuss the past, I realize that it takes two people to create anim­osity. Bryan has to let go of his anger. Ah, Bryan, get over it. Stop whining and blaming your dad for your problems.

As father and son jour­neyed to self-discovery, I jour­neyed with them. And I think that’s what makes the film very strong. Their feel­ings come right off the screen. The all-business dad and the woe-is-me son are human. And in between more comedic sec­tions: Bill prac­ti­cing his routine (for the body­building com­pet­i­tion), tan­ning or trying on his cos­tume, the rela­tion­ship is starting to develop through the body­building, the sweat and the inev­it­able tears.

The father/son mes­sage comes through: although you can’t make up for lost time, life is too short to hold grudges. Forgive and forget and start anew. And that’s what Bryan and Bill are doing.

9/10(9/10)

UPDATE: The film was awarded Best Canadian Feature Documentary at the Hot Docs Awards cere­mony held on April 27. Congratulations to dir­ector Bryan Friedman and everyone involved in the film.

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