Michael Palmieri and Donal Mosher

At this year’s Hot Docs, the film that undoubtedly had the biggest effect on me was Off Label. This erstwhile “issue doc” turned out to be so affecting that I lit­er­ally could not write about it for months. You can read my very recently posted review of the film and maybe get a sense of why it seemed to dif­fi­cult for me. My first viewing was a few weeks before the fest­ival, but after seeing it a second time during the fest­ival, I knew I wanted to talk to the film­makers. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to say, but I knew that any film that left me so unsettled was doing some­thing right. I’d been a big fan of the pair’s first fea­ture doc­u­mentary, 2009’s October Country (review) but that film’s intimacy didn’t seem to fit with what I thought would be a standard take­down of the phar­ma­ceut­ical industry. So we sat down for break­fast at the Sutton Place Hotel while I threw some half-formed ques­tions and obser­va­tions their way.

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Room 237
Room 237 screens as part of the Vanguard pro­gramme. Check the fest­ival web site for screening times and loc­a­tions.

Room 237 (Director: Rodney Ascher): I’ll start with a con­fes­sion. I hadn’t actu­ally watched Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 film The Shining until about two years ago. There were lots of reasons, the main of which was that I was never a real fan of “horror” films. After seeing it, of course, I dis­covered that The Shining is not the slasher film that I’d anti­cip­ated (and feared). Instead, it’s a dense and moody psy­cho­lo­gical thriller, and the type of film that I actu­ally love. That being said, I may have only seen the film twice in my life.

Which makes me com­pletely dif­ferent from the motley band of nut­jobs and con­spiracy the­or­ists who pop­u­late Rodney Ascher’s creepy Room 237, each of whom has prob­ably watched the film in slo-mo dozens of times. From the man with the rel­at­ively mild theory that the film is really all about the exterm­in­a­tion of America’s indi­genous pop­u­la­tion to the guy who’s con­vinced that The Shining is Kubrick’s cryptic con­fes­sion to filming the faked Apollo moon land­ings in a studio, Ascher’s “sub­jective doc­u­mentary” turns out be at least as scary as watching Kubrick’s film itself.

Ascher wisely chooses to allow his “the­or­ists” to only be heard in voi­ceover and never seen. Instead, he uses visuals from The Shining and many other films, including almost all of Kubrick’s other work. The result is deeply unset­tling, espe­cially when com­bined with a rather sin­ister score. While the various the­ories can often pro­voke guf­faws of dis­be­lief, the relent­less accounting of the film’s eccent­ri­cities has an ali­en­ating effect that rein­forces how weird The Shining really is.

For instance, while not con­vinced by one of the commentator’s con­vo­luted geo­graphy of the hotel’s floor plan, I did become con­vinced that Kubrick may have pur­posely messed with the audience’s spa­tial aware­ness simply to heighten our sense of unease.

What Ascher’s film demon­strates most ably is the limits of auteur theory when taken to its abso­lute irra­tional end. Each of these people is con­vinced that not only was Kubrick aware of every tiny detail they tease out of the film, but that he alone was the vis­ionary behind each choice. I’m aware that Kubrick may have been a bit of a con­trol freak, but I’d be very sur­prised if every decision of the cine­ma­to­grapher, editor, pro­duc­tion designer and even the actors sprung from the mind of the director.

In the end, while we may come out of Room 237 laughing at these “crack­pots,” I’m con­vinced that for many of us, our next viewing of The Shining will be a lot more terrifying.

Official site of the film

As a bonus, I’m embed­ding another short “nar­rative doc­u­mentary” by the same dir­ector, “the shocking, true story of the most ter­ri­fying logo of all time.”

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Fathers and Daughters: The Films of Mia Hansen-Løve at TIFF Bell Lightbox

Though I’ve only seen two of her three films, I’m tre­mend­ously excited that the smart folks at TIFF have seen fit to bring French dir­ector Mia Hansen-Løve to Toronto for a survey of her work so far. Just 31, Hansen-Løve began her career in the cinema as an actor, playing a small role in now-husband Olivier Assayas’ 1998 film Fin août, début septembre (Late August, Early September). After another col­lab­or­a­tion, she gave up acting to become, like Assayas and a long line of other French film­makers, a critic for influ­en­tial magazine Cahiers du cinéma. But it was only when she decided to make a short film in 2004 that she dis­covered what she really wanted to do with her life.

Less than a decade later, she’s cre­ated a small but impressive body of work. Her films are intensely per­sonal, and yet uni­versal. They deal with the joys and sor­rows of life, with grief and loss, and romantic yearning. Her char­ac­ters feel deeply and her dir­ect­orial style draws the audi­ence into that depth. She makes doc­u­ment­aries of the heart. Like her husband’s films, there’s some­thing about her work that res­on­ated imme­di­ately with me. Come and dis­cover an exciting young film­maker, hope­fully at just the begin­ning of her career.

Still from Tout est pardonné (All Is Forgiven)
Tout est par­donné (All Is Forgiven) (2007)

In her first fea­ture, Hansen-Løve tells the story of a young woman attempting to recon­nect with her long-absent father. Tout est par­donné (All Is Forgiven) will screen with an intro­duc­tion from the dir­ector on Thursday August 23 at 6:30pm.

Still from Le père de mes enfants (The Father of My Children)
Le père de mes enfants (The Father of My Children) (2009)

In this 2009 fea­ture, based on the life of a film pro­ducer influ­en­tial in the director’s life, the cha­ris­matic Louis-Do de Lencquesaing juggles the demands of work and his loving family (including real-life daughter Alice) while strug­gling with des­pair. Le père de mes enfants (The Father of My Children) will screen with an intro­duc­tion from Hansen-Løve on Friday August 24 at 6:15pm.

Still from Un Enfant dans la foule (A Child in the Crowd)
Un Enfant dans la foule (A Child in the Crowd) (1976)

Hansen-Løve’s “carte blanche” selec­tion of another director’s work is this neg­lected classic by Gérard Blain, about a teen­aged boy in the closing days of the Second World War who will do almost any­thing to gain the love of his dis­tant par­ents. It sounds like an influ­ence on her first film and it will be inter­esting to hear her intro­duce it. Un Enfant dans la foule (A Child in the Crowd) will screen on Friday August 24 at 9:00pm.

Still from Un amour de jeunesse (Goodbye First Love)
Un amour de jeun­esse (Goodbye First Love) (2011)

Her most auto­bi­o­graph­ical work to date, this most recent fea­ture covers a decade in the life of a young woman, from the first flush of adoles­cent love to the flowering of adult­hood and adult rela­tion­ships. Lola Creton, just 17 when the film was made, shows incred­ible range (and depth) in the role. Un amour de jeun­esse (Goodbye First Love) screens with the director’s intro­duc­tion on Saturday August 25 at 5:00pm.

More inform­a­tion on the series from the TIFF web site.

Tickets for all screen­ings are avail­able through the TIFF web site or at the box office. I’ve got mine already. See you there!

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Okay, this is def­in­itely not meant to add to my already bur­den­some film-viewing work­load for 2012, but as I was thinking about the idea of cine­matic blind spots, I wondered about the idea of larger gaps of know­ledge. How many dir­ectors are there whose work I have here­to­fore missed entirely? This could be even more embar­rassing than just listing indi­vidual films, but I thought it might be enter­taining. As well, if you list yours in the com­ments, maybe we could help each other by sug­gesting which film for each dir­ector might make a good intro­duc­tion for someone who hasn’t seen a single one of their films. Here are five of mine:

I got this idea from the cover of the latest issue of 180°, the TIFF Bell Lightbox cata­logue, so I know that I’ll have a chance to catch some Bresson films soon. Okay, your turn!

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Waiting for the End of the World: Lars von Trier Retrospective at TIFF Bell Lightbox

Years before he was per­sona non grata at the Cannes Film Festival, I dis­covered the films of Danish “bad boy” Lars von Trier at the old Cinematheque Ontario. So it’s fit­ting that the folks behind the Cinematheque are bringing a mini-retrospective of his work to their new digs at the TIFF Bell Lightbox. Beginning tonight and run­ning through November 19, six of von Trier’s earlier films will be shown as a sort of appet­izer for his latest, Melancholia, which opens on Friday November 18.

Melancholia (2011)
Still from Melancholia (2011)

Though I’m dis­ap­pointed with the omis­sions, both obvious (no Antichrist?) and not-so-obvious (The Kingdom would have been per­fect run­ning over a few nights, and Epidemic seems not to be shown much), I’m most excited to revisit the (lit­er­ally) dark early films that were my intro­duc­tion to his work. The Element of Crime (1984) is a sort of police pro­ced­ural, with a prot­ag­onist who prac­tic­ally goes mad trying to track down a serial killer in a post-apocalyptic and dream­like envir­on­ment that just might be the inside of his own head. And Europa (1991), the very first of von Trier’s films I saw, which fol­lows a naive young American working as a porter on a very strange train in post-World War 2 Germany. Both films are drip­ping with style, evoc­ative images, and dark, dream­like plots.

The Element of Crime (1984)
Still from The Element of Crime (1984)

I’d also like to finally see The Idiots and Dogville, both of which seemed reli­ably pro­voc­ative when I saw clips during Adam Nayman’s excel­lent class earlier this year at the Jewish Canadian Cultural Centre.

Europa (1991)
Still from Europa (1991)

Here are the details for the schedule. Don’t forget that in addi­tion to the ret­ro­spective, you can see Melancholia begin­ning Friday November 18.

  • Breaking the Waves (1996) — Wednesday November 9, 6:30pm
  • The Element of Crime (1984) — Friday November 11, 6:30pm
  • Europa (1991) — Saturday November 12, 8:00pm and Thursday November 17, 9:15pm
  • Dogville (2003) — Wednesday November 16, 6:30pm
  • Dancer in the Dark (2000) — Friday November 18, 6:00pm
  • The Idiots (1998) — Saturday November 19, 8:00pm

As always, tickets are avail­able online.

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