Film Movement

Mine
Mine was the December 2009 selec­tion of Film Movement Canada, a sub­scrip­tion ser­vice that brings the best of inde­pendent cinema to your door each month. Though it’s only recently launched here, Film Movement has oper­ated in the US for sev­eral years, and has long been one of my favourite sources of great films. Mine is screening the­at­ric­ally around the US until the end of March 2010 (more inform­a­tion) and will be avail­able through iTunes this month, too.

Mine (Director: Geralyn Pezanoski): Winner of the Audience Award at the 2009 SXSW Film Festival, Mine is a gut-wrenching look at some of the for­gotten vic­tims of 2005’s Hurricane Katrina: pets and their owners. My wife and I are thinking of becoming dog owners, and after watching this film, I’m more con­vinced than ever that pets really do become part of the family.

In the after­math of Hurricane Katrina, thou­sands of evacuees were forced to leave their cats and dogs behind. Shelters wouldn’t accept animals, and in some cases, people left their pets thinking they’d be gone just a few days. We all know what happened. Many people still haven’t returned to the city, and those who did had to wait months. In the mean­time, more than 150,000 animals died. Thanks to the efforts of volun­teers, sev­eral thou­sand were res­cued, but many were shipped to other states, and when their owners didn’t claim them within a few days, some were adopted out to new fam­ilies. This is where the film gets really interesting.

The failure of the gov­ern­ment to adequately respond to the cata­strophe has been the sub­ject of many fine doc­u­mentary films, but in this case, ordinary people around the country stepped in to do all they could to rescue these pets who’d been left behind. Unfortunately, there is a polit­ical edge to some of these “rescue” organ­iz­a­tions, as some of the former owners soon found out. For instance, many dog owners in New Orleans don’t have their dogs spayed or neutered, whether for fin­an­cial or cul­tural reasons. Among the rescue com­munity, this is con­sidered irre­spons­ible. As well, many of the res­cued animals turned out to have heart­worm infec­tions, some­thing that can be pre­vented with med­ic­a­tion. Again, prob­ably due to fin­an­cial hard­ship or simply ignor­ance, many New Orleans res­id­ents hadn’t treated their pets for heartworm.

The end result was that many of the rescue organ­iz­a­tions saw the ori­ginal owners as neg­li­gent, and after treating the animals for sick­ness, they would spay or neuter them and then adopt them out to more “suit­able” fam­ilies in their areas. When the ori­ginal owners were finally able to track their pets down, the rescue organ­iz­a­tions would tell them that their pet had a new family, and the new family didn’t want to give it up.

We follow sev­eral of these heart­breaking cus­tody battles throughout the course of the film. Though it’s only hinted at, race and class are central to how the stories are played out. Since pets are con­sidered prop­erty under the law, it should simply be a matter of having one’s prop­erty returned, but in the emo­tional bat­tle­field of pet own­er­ship, things are rarely that simple. Having already sur­vived the hur­ricane and the loss of their homes and pos­ses­sions, the res­id­ents of New Orleans have no money to hire law­yers to pursue their missing pets, so a number of volun­teers help them to find law­yers who are willing to work pro bono on the cases. It’s an ugly pro­cess, and one par­tic­ular phone con­ver­sa­tion (part of which appears in the trailer embedded below) between the owner of a missing dog and the head of the rescue organ­iz­a­tion who got him out of New Orleans sums up the film in a nut­shell. People who love animals can often forget that there is a person attached to that animal. If you care about animals, you cannot pre­tend that that rela­tion­ship never existed.

You don’t have to be a dog lover to enjoy Mine. And even if you think you’ve seen all there is to see about Hurricane Katrina, don’t let that keep you away from this insightful film, which has exposed the class divi­sions of our society more clearly than any­thing I’ve seen in a long time.

Official site of the film

8/10(8/10)

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Film Movement Canada

Finally, the DVD sub­scrip­tion ser­vice I’ve been men­tioning since 2006 is avail­able in Canada! That first link is a tiny bit unfair, since it deals mostly with Ironweed Film Club, another DVD ser­vice that has been avail­able in Canada all along. But while Ironweed’s focus has been doc­u­ment­aries, and of late, mostly envir­on­mental docs, Film Movement has over the years focused on inter­na­tional cinema, with quite a few fest­ival gems avail­able nowhere else. In fact, just a few months ago I was com­plaining via Twitter that Film Movement had picked up a number of great films that were not being dis­trib­uted in Canada, including Munyurangabo, Lake Tahoe, and Somers Town. I haven’t done an exhaustive com­par­ison, and I know that there may still be some titles that won’t be avail­able to Canadian sub­scribers, but this is a huge win for cinephiles in this country.

For as little as about $10/month (based on a 12-month sub­scrip­tion), you’ll get a new film sent to you, cur­ated by Film Movement’s team of pro­gram­mers. Part of the fun is just let­ting them sur­prise you, and I guar­antee you’ll find some gems you would oth­er­wise have missed. Subscribers also get dis­counts on buying DVDs from their extensive back cata­logue, too.

To make the offer even more irres­ist­ible, how about a promo code for an addi­tional 5% off? Just enter “hel­loc­anada” in the promo code box before you check out. But the code is only good until November 30th, so don’t hes­itate. Let’s show them that Canadians love great cinema, and make them wonder why they took so long to get here!

Film Movement Canada

P.S. The November selec­tion is Uruguayan film Gigante (review), which screened at this year’s TIFF.

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Gigante

Gigante (Director: Adrián Biniez): Fabian Jara (Horacio Camandule) is the tit­ular giant, working as an overnight security guard at a large gro­cery store in Montevideo. He spends his evening shifts watching security cam­eras of other night employees doing their jobs, including a crew of female cleaners. He gradu­ally comes to fall in love with one, even though he doesn’t know her name. He begins fol­lowing her from afar in the morn­ings, dis­cov­ering her routines. On the week­ends, he works as a bouncer at a nightclub, though he’s far too gentle a giant to really hurt anyone. Although he loves aggressive heavy-metal music, he’s far too shy to actu­ally approach his crush. Instead, his stalker-like beha­viour increases, although each time the film steers toward darker ter­ritory, Jara’s basic decency sur­faces, pre­serving the light tone. Eventually, he dis­covers her name is Julia, and by the end a work-related crisis throws them together at last.

It’s the slightest of premises, basic­ally a “nerd gets the girl” story, but the per­form­ance of Camandule as the inno­cent “Jarita” (as his co-workers jok­ingly call him) is com­pletely endearing. Leonor Svarcas as Julia is just the right com­bin­a­tion of dorky and alluring to be believ­able as a woman Jara believes he might actu­ally have a chance with. The film has the lan­guid pacing and gentle humour that Uruguayan film is becoming known for, and it was a pleasure to recog­nize Juan Andrés Stoll from Hiroshima (review) in a small role. Though it’s not great cinema, this is a per­fect fest­ival film, a crowd-pleasing slice of life that for me per­son­ally was a wel­come res­pite from the steady diet of abusive fam­ilies, sui­cide, dis­ease and obses­sion I’ve been watching so far at this festival.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Adrián Biniez from after the screening:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (ver­sion 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest ver­sion here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Duration: 24:40

Here’s a clip from the film, which is avail­able now on DVD in the US through the excel­lent Film Movement sub­scrip­tion service:

7/10(7/10)

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Men At Work (Kargaran mashghoole karand)

Kargaran mashg­hoole karand (Men At Work) (Director: Mani Haghighi, Iran, 2006): Kargaran mashg­hoole karand (Men At Work) begins with four middle-aged men driving home to catch an important foot­ball match on tele­vi­sion. Three of them are talking and joking around while the other naps. He wakes up and bugs them until they finally pull over and allow him to make a pit-stop on the side of the road on the edge of a canyon. While they are stopped, they dis­cover a tall, narrow rock form­a­tion sticking out of the ground. This film is about their attempts at trying to figure out how it got there, but ulti­mately how to knock it down.

It doesn’t sound like a very intriguing story, but somehow it is. And funny. The situ­ation these men impose upon them­selves can surely be a meta­phor for any kind of obstacle that one may face in life, or it could really just be about how dif­fi­cult it is to dis­lodge a big rock from the earth.

Through altern­ating moments of silence, comedic and almost slap-stick antics, emo­tional out­bursts and acts of des­per­a­tion, we learn of these mens’ rela­tion­ships with women (two of whom con­veni­ently show up, join the chal­lenge for a while, and then leave) and each other, but mainly we see how dif­fer­ently they each deal with this “problem.”

Men At Work (Kargaran mashghoole karand)

I have seen a few Iranian films from the past few years, and most of them are about women and their struggles within their cul­ture. This film, how­ever, may focus on the pos­sibly neg­lected point of view of the men, and per­haps this is why the offensive rock is quite, well, phallic. Is this a com­mentary on the dif­ferent atti­tudes that some Iranian men may have about their male-dominated society? If so, then how does one explain the rel­at­ively passive atti­tudes of the women who show up? (One can make a meta­phor of any­thing, I suppose.)

In the end, after periods of working together and then lit­er­ally giving up and leaving someone behind, the four friends learn that some­times prob­lems can solve themselves.

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Viva Cuba

Viva Cuba (Director: Juan Carlos Cremata Malberti, Cuba, 2005): Viva Cuba is a charming fairytale/road movie that sub­merges its polit­ical mes­sage in a very per­sonal story of friend­ship and love. Jorgito and his tomboy friend Malu are on the cusp of adoles­cence, and their close friend­ship seems about to morph into some­thing at once more ser­ious and more fright­ening. It’s evident from the way they can be holding hands one minute and arguing viol­ently the next. To make things worse, their fam­ilies detest each other. Malu lives with her mother, a bitter woman whose family used to wield influ­ence in the days before Castro’s revolu­tion. Jorgito’s par­ents have moved to Havana from the coun­tryside and are firm sup­porters of the gov­ern­ment. Each mother admon­ishes her child for playing with an unsuit­able play­mate, but that only drives the pair closer together.

This Romeo and Juliet story really takes off when Malu’s mother decides to leave Cuba forever, to join her boy­friend in what we assume is America. In order to get per­mis­sion to leave the country with Malu, she must get her estranged ex-husband to sign an exit author­iz­a­tion. Knowing this, Malu and Jorgito hatch a plan to appeal to his paternal love (or guilt) by trav­eling in person to see him. The problem is that Malu hasn’t seen her father since she was six, because he works as a light­house keeper at the other end of the country.

The two young prot­ag­on­ists hit the road by train, bus, and oxcart to reach their des­tin­a­tion, but their con­stant squab­bling threatens to ruin the plan. In the mean­time, their wor­ried fam­ilies have seem­ingly recon­ciled in the des­perate search for their missing children.

First and fore­most, this is a beautifully-shot film, and the use of colour is often striking. The polit­ical mes­sage, such as it is, seems to ignore Castro com­pletely; instead, it’s a shame­lessly pro-Cuba film, high­lighting both the island’s nat­ural beauty as well as the fierce pride of its people in their cul­tural insti­tu­tions. It’s not sur­prising that music plays a big part in the film.

It’s unclear whether the dir­ector was attempting to make a film aimed solely at chil­dren. There is cer­tainly a sense of naïveté in the dia­logue and the basic struc­ture of the film, and there is never any real danger to these two kids on the run, but the ending seemed par­tic­u­larly grown-up and ambiguous, and made me ree­valuate my ini­tial impres­sions. Some critics have seen the film as an allegory depicting two sides to modern Cuban cul­ture, but I don’t believe the inten­tion was that obvious. I think the film gains res­on­ance from refusing to be overt about its polit­ical opin­ions. Instead, it leaves the viewer to untangle his sym­pathies from the inter­sec­tion of con­flicting desires in a country that is chan­ging, just not fast enough for some.

Note: Film Movement fea­tured this film as their Year 5 Film 5.

8/10(8/10)

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