From the category archives:

TIFF

Andrew James and Joshua Ligairi
Cleanflix has a number of fest­ival screen­ings coming up in the coming months. Catch the film at the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival in Missoula, Montana, and at Cinequest in San Jose, California.

My first film at the 2009 Toronto International Film Festival was Cleanflix (review), a doc­u­mentary which explored the issues sur­rounding the sale and rental of edited ver­sions of R-rated movies to obser­vant Mormons in Utah. I knew that after seeing the film, I wanted to ask the cre­ators many more ques­tions than they could have fielded during the post-screening Q&A. So, thanks to David Magdael and Margot Hardy from TC:DM Associates, I was able to sit down for half an hour with the cre­ators of the film during what must have been a very hectic week for them. In addi­tion to co-directors Andrew James (on the left in the pic­ture above) and Joshua Ligairi (on the right), we were also joined by pro­ducer Amber Bollinger.

Since the inter­view deals with some plot points in the film, it really makes sense to read my review first.

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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)

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Police, Adjective

Police, Adjective (Director: Corneliu Porumboiu): Young police detective Cristi seems to have pulled a pretty boring assign­ment. Tail a group of hash-smoking teen­agers until their dealer appears. He’s been on the case more than a week, com­piling detailed but mono­tonous reports on the move­ments of his main target, a kid named Victor. One of the other teens, Alex, has been informing on his friend, but so far, all they can charge the kids with is simple pos­ses­sion. His super­iors insist that he should wrap up the case by con­ducting a “sting” oper­a­tion, and that the kids will give up more inform­a­tion once they’re arrested, but Cristi has been drag­ging his feet. As he protests to his col­leagues, he doesn’t want to send a kid to prison for seven or eight years just for smoking a joint, espe­cially when it wouldn’t even be an offence any­where else in Europe. Besides, he says, the law is prob­ably going to change very soon.

As the film con­tinues to follow Cristi through his boring days of sur­veil­lance and paper­work, we get the sense that there’s going to be a show­down; not with the sup­posed “crim­inals” but between Cristi and his boss, the police cap­tain. The grind of the job is palp­able, and after an hour of watching this young cop do nothing but wait, some of the audi­ence began walking out. But I think dir­ector Porumboiu does some­thing quite brave, by emphas­izing the pro­cedure in the standard police pro­ced­ural. It dawns on Cristi, and on us, that he is nothing but a cog in a vast legal machine, with no ability to make decisions for him­self. Everyone else seems to have accepted their place in the bur­eau­cracy, but Cristi talks about his con­science and about moral law.

The final con­front­a­tion with the police cap­tain is dazzling. For about twenty minutes, this man demon­strates both his intel­li­gence and his authority by for­cing Cristi to read out defin­i­tions from a dic­tionary. He sys­tem­at­ic­ally dev­ast­ates Cristi’s appeals to his con­science as irrel­evant to his job as a policeman. Unfortunately, I think a lot of the nuances of their dia­logue are lost in the trans­la­tion to English, but in at least one case there is a polit­ical res­on­ance to their dis­cus­sion. The older man, of a gen­er­a­tion that grew up under the dic­tat­or­ship of Ceausescu objects to one of the dictionary’s defin­i­tions of the word “police.” When Cristi reads out a sec­tion that describes a “police state,” the cap­tain laughs and says, “Nonsense! The state has always relied on the police.” In the end, he forces Cristi to make a choice between doing the sting and remaining a policeman, or fol­lowing his con­science out the door into unemployment.

This is smart and chal­len­ging film­making that requires patience from the audi­ence. Visually, it’s as unex­citing as the dingy streets and warren of offices that are Cristi’s hab­itats. But the sense of being lulled into com­pla­cency is important for the latter part of the film, where the young man’s ideals are found wanting. Maybe he joined the police force for excite­ment, or to do good, but in the end, Cristi takes his place in the creaky appar­atus of a state that isn’t about to change as quickly as he would like.

8/10(8/10)

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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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Kynodontas (Dogtooth)

Kynodontas (Dogtooth) (Director: Giorgos Lanthimos): Although I saw this film sev­eral days ago, it’s been dif­fi­cult to put my thoughts into words. Lanthimos has delivered an unfor­get­table and dis­turbing film, but not one that is easy to cri­tique or even describe. And though I con­sider myself more of a film reviewer than a critic, it’s even dif­fi­cult to provide any sort of plot summary.

Briefly stated, Dogtooth con­cerns a well-to-do Greek family, living in a large sub­urban house. The par­ents of three adult chil­dren have kept them con­fined to the house since birth, teaching them their own unique vocab­u­lary (the “sea” is a large arm­chair, the “phone” is a salt shaker, “zom­bies” are small yellow flowers, etc.). Though the chil­dren appear to be in their twen­ties, they are dressed like chil­dren and spend their days engaged in com­pet­itive games to gain the favour of their par­ents. Occasionally, the father pays Christina, the female security guard at his work­place, to relieve his son’s sexual urges. None of the chil­dren have names.

If this isn’t unset­tling enough, it soon gets worse. Christina takes a liking to the older daughter and gives her gifts in exchange for sexual favours. One of the gifts is a col­lec­tion of VHS movies, which the daughter watches after everyone is asleep. This little bit of the out­side world begins to obsess her. She asks her sister to call her Bruce, and begins quoting dia­logue from Rocky and Jaws. She lashes out viol­ently at her brother, and in one har­rowing scene, dances her­self into a frenzy. When her father finds out the source of this “evil,” he beats Christina and ban­ishes her from their home. In a matter-of-fact but deeply dis­turbing con­ver­sa­tion with his wife, they agree that one of the sis­ters will have to take Christina’s place.

The title of the film comes from another of the heart­breaking lies the par­ents have told their chil­dren. They will be ready to leave the house only when their dog­tooth (eye tooth) falls out. As the older daughter’s des­per­a­tion grows, she takes mat­ters into her own hands, and the res­ults are tragic. Aggeliki Papoulia is abso­lutely fear­less in this dif­fi­cult role, and the rest of cast make a strange and dis­turbing viewing exper­i­ence also sur­pris­ingly compelling.

This is a film of stun­ning visuals to accom­pany the ideas. The house is dec­or­ated in 70s kitsch style, which rein­forces the feeling of being trapped in time. The chil­dren are suf­foc­ating in this air­less envir­on­ment, and their sexual and violent urges are treated as some­thing to be con­trolled. Everything that should give them pleasure is turned into a com­pet­i­tion or a test of obed­i­ence. In the post-screening Q&A, Lanthimos explained that the gen­esis of the film came out of a dis­cus­sion he had with some friends who were get­ting mar­ried. When he expressed his doubts about the insti­tu­tions of mar­riage and family, his friends became extremely defensive. He decided to make a film about what would happen if a man went to the ulti­mate extreme to pro­tect his family. In an odd way, the film reminded me of Cleanflix (review), which I’d seen just the day before. The folly of thinking that evil comes only from out­side of us, or that our nat­ural desires are bad, always leads to tragic con­sequences, and yet it is ingrained in our society. Luckily, it rarely goes to such extremes, but Dogtooth is a par­tic­u­larly unset­tling reminder of the danger of idol­izing the idea of “family” values.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Giorgos Lanthimos from after the screening:

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Duration: 11:38

9/10(9/10)

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