Theatrical Release

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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Hollywood Classics: The Cinema <em>Is</em> Nicholas Ray at TIFF Bell Lightbox

From October 2nd through December 13th, TIFF Bell Lightbox will present a ret­ro­spective of the work of icon­o­clastic American dir­ector Nicholas Ray (1911–1979). It’s a full-scale exhib­i­tion in honour of the cen­tenary of Ray’s birth, and will con­tinue into the new year with another selec­tion of his work.

Ray was a unique char­acter, making per­sonal films about ali­en­ated youth and vul­ner­able people within the Hollywood studio system. Perhaps best known for his work with James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause (1955), Ray had been exploring the same themes from the very begin­ning of his career. His first fea­ture, They Live By Night (1948), fea­tured two naïve young lovers on the run from the law; it was remade by Robert Altman as Thieves Like Us (1974) and was a huge influ­ence on Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and Terrence Malick’s Badlands (1973). Other career high­lights screening during the series:

  • In A Lonely Place (1950): Humphrey Bogart gives one of his best per­form­ances as a man accused of murder who finds love but sees it des­troyed by his self-loathing rage.
  • On Dangerous Ground (1952): Robert Ryan and Ida Lupino star in this noirish tale of the trans­forming power of love.
  • Bigger Than Life (1956): a Technicolor marvel fea­turing James Mason in a ter­ri­fying turn as a bene­volent teacher trans­formed by the side effects of a drug treatment.
  • Bitter Victory (1957): an anti-heroic war film set in the North African desert during World War II, the film pits two British officers against each other in the after­math of a love triangle.

Ray’s focus on out­siders, on the lonely and mis­un­der­stood mis­fits in our midst, was ahead of its time, and has endeared him to modern dir­ectors like Jim Jarmusch (who studied under him at NYU in the 1970s), Martin Scorsese, and many of the fig­ures of the French New Wave, most not­ably Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut. It was Godard who, in his review of Bitter Victory, provided the quo­ta­tion that forms the title of the series:

There was theatre (Griffith), poetry (Murnau), painting (Rossellini), dance (Eisenstein), music (Renoir). Henceforward there is cinema. And the cinema is Nicholas Ray.

Tickets for all screen­ings are now avail­able to order online.

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Our Idiot Brother
Our Idiot Brother opens the­at­ric­ally on Friday August 26, 2011.

Our Idiot Brother (Director: Jesse Peretz): For those of us used to seeing Paul Rudd play the “straight man” in com­edies like I Love You, Man and Knocked Up, it’s tan­tal­izing to see him sporting long hair and Crocs in this film, which premiered at Sundance back in January. The Sundance con­nec­tion is rel­evant, because the rest of the cast is filled out with Sundance darlings such as Zooey Deschanel, Adam Scott, Elizabeth Banks, and Katie Aselton, not to men­tion other recog­niz­able stars like Steve Coogan, Emily Mortimer, Rashida Jones and Hugh Dancy. And therein lies the problem. In a film that prom­ises to be about a single idiot, there are a dozen char­ac­ters fighting for screen time, and it leaves the film a sprawling mess.

Rudd plays Ned, a kind-hearted but rather thick slacker who ends up in jail after selling pot to a uni­formed police officer. Upon his release, he learns his vegan farmer girl­friend has taken up with someone else, throwing him out of both house and job. To make mat­ters worse, she is keeping his beloved dog Willie Nelson. After a brief stay with his dis­tracted alco­holic mother, he heads into the city to crash with one of his three sis­ters. Miranda (Banks) is the uptight career woman, and she doesn’t want him get­ting in the way of her ambi­tion. Natalie (Deschanel) is the free-spirited and promis­cuous one, but she’s trying to settle down to a ser­ious rela­tion­ship with her girl­friend Cindy (Jones, looking ador­ably dorky in ter­rible glasses). So he goes to Liz (Mortimer), who has two kids and a preening doc­u­mentary film­maker hus­band (Coogan). Hijinks invari­ably ensue, and in no time, Ned has messed up the lives of all three sis­ters with his clue­less attempts at hon­esty and goodness.

There are undoubtedly some good moments (the banter between Ned and Billy, his girlfriend’s new hippie beau, is hil­arious), but for me even the 90 minute runtime felt long. At the same time, it wasn’t long enough to flesh out the many char­ac­ters and rela­tion­ships. A few of the sub­plots could easily have been made into films of their own, although there’s no guar­antee they’d be good films, either.

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The Hedgehog (Le hérisson)
The Hedgehog (Le hérisson) opens in select US mar­kets on Friday August 19, expanding over the fol­lowing weeks. Check your local listings.

The Hedgehog (Le hérisson) (Director: Mona Achache): Based on the best-selling novel The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery, this 2009 film is finally get­ting a the­at­rical release on this side of the world. Alas, it’s only in the US for now, but I figure that I have at least a few readers out­side of the Toronto area.

Precocious and bored, 11-year-old Paloma decides that on her 12th birthday, she will end her life. She’s sick of her par­ents and older sister and their com­fort­able bour­geois life­style. She com­puls­ively films them with a hand-me-down video camera and protests that she doesn’t want to live like a gold­fish in a fish­bowl. She’s incred­ibly bright and wants more from life, but doesn’t see a way to get it.

Ms. Michel, the wid­owed jan­itor of the luxury building where she lives, seems like she might be a kindred spirit, but she’s extremely private. Everything changes on the day that Mr. Ozu moves into the building. This cul­tured older Japanese man pays no atten­tion to the class dif­fer­ences and petty jeal­ousies of the other ten­ants, striking up con­ver­sa­tions with both Paloma and Ms. Michel within days of his arrival.

An off­hand remark involving a quote from Tolstoy (Mr. Ozu begins the quote and Ms. Michel fin­ishes it) kindles a deeper curi­osity and before long he has asked her to dinner. If you haven’t guessed already, Renée (as we dis­cover is Ms. Michel’s first name) is the hedgehog of the title. As described by Paloma, she is prickly on the out­side, but only to hide her inner eleg­ance. No, I’m not sure how a hedgehog could be described as elegant, either, but it’s a mem­or­able descrip­tion. Paloma begins to spend more time with Renée and tells her that as a jan­itor, she has found a “per­fect hiding place,” as if the older woman had simply chosen to be a building jan­itor out of a panoply of other career options.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbery

Our trio of char­ac­ters are all highly intel­li­gent and lonely out­siders, and so nat­ur­ally they come together, but everything seems just a bit too neat. An 11-year-old like Paloma, who draws and paints at a high level, plays Go and speaks some Japanese could really only exist in a novel (or a movie). Renée is another vari­ation on the crusty char­acter who really has a heart of gold. Worst of all, Mr. Ozu is the Franco-Asian equi­valent of the “magical negro,” an exotic char­acter who dis­penses wisdom and brings the other char­ac­ters together while we really know nothing about his own motivations.

But while the film is schem­atic and (mostly) pre­dict­able, it remains enjoy­able, mostly for me due to Josiane Balasko’s per­form­ance as Renée. A vet­eran comic actor (she played the Jennifer Saunders’ part in the French ver­sion of Absolutely Fabulous) and an accom­plished dir­ector in her own right, she por­trays a lonely woman’s bewil­der­ment at being desired with sub­tlety and grace. I also loved the occa­sional use of anim­a­tion to illus­trate some of Paloma’s inner struggles.

As someone who has not read the source novel, I can’t com­ment on whether it is a faithful adapt­a­tion, but based upon the amount of voi­ceover nar­ra­tion by Paloma, I expect that the novel would allow us sim­ilar access to the inner lives of both Renée and of Mr. Ozu. As well, because Paloma’s story seems to be the central thread, I wasn’t cer­tain whether I was watching a film aimed more at the adoles­cent set than at a more gen­eral audience.

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The Change-Up
The Change-Up opens Friday August 5th at the Varsity, Scotiabank and Silver City Cinemas in Toronto.

The Change-Up (Director: David Dobkin): There’s an offput­ting and rather absurd con­ser­vatism at the heart of the body-swapping genre. It’s as if the pur­pose for the whole thing is to learn some valu­able life les­sons. Sure, there’s a bit of time for hijinks, but in the end, it’s all about loving the life you have. When it’s time to get back into your own skin, you’re sup­posed to accept it. In fact, in just about all of these movies, the char­ac­ters can’t wait to get back to their slightly improved nor­mality. What makes this such a dis­honest trope is that all of the fun hap­pens when they’re breaking the rules of their everyday lives.

The Change-Up plays with this for­mula for just about half of its run­ning time, and for those 45 minutes or so, it bor­ders on sub­versive. Some of its moments of anarchy are exhil­ar­ating. But in the end, it plays it safe.

Dave Lockwood (Jason Bateman) is a high-achieving cor­porate lawyer who spends too much time at the office and not enough talking to his beau­tiful wife (Leslie Mann). He’s a dutiful father, though, helping out with his young daughter and infant twins. He flirts with the gor­geous law asso­ciate at his office (Olivia Wilde), but there’s nothing about him that indic­ates he’ll really break out of this safe pattern.

Until the night he goes drinking with his old pal Mitch (Ryan Reynolds). Though they’re just about polar oppos­ites, they’ve somehow man­aged to stay friends. Mitch is a wild-living barely employed actor who has coasted on his good looks and who seems to be enjoying his extended adoles­cence. While urin­ating together into a foun­tain after their night of drinking, each wishes for the other’s life, and the next morning, they’ve magic­ally switched bodies. Time for some fun, right?

The scenes of Bateman (playing Reynolds) screwing up Dave’s job and abusing his chil­dren are glee­fully trans­gressive, and both actors have fun with Reynolds’ potty-mouthed vocab­u­lary. But when it comes to the sexual adven­tures that form a large part of Dave’s longing to change lives, the film chickens out. In the end, the nuc­lear family and mono­gamy tri­umph, not to men­tion that other good ol’ American value: hard work. There’s even a wed­ding at the end, in addi­tion to an anniversary party and a career promotion.

Which isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy most of The Change-Up. Bateman and Reynolds have great chem­istry, and Leslie Mann makes what could have been a shrewish ste­reo­type into an almost real char­acter, albeit one who res­ists the explan­a­tion given to her in favour of a con­tinuing state of har­ried befuddle­ment at her husband’s new antics.

A sub­plot involving Mitch’s estrang­ment from his father (Alan Arkin) exists only to bal­ance the character’s “dif­fi­culties” with rela­tion­ships, but it’s far from con­vin­cing. Who wouldn’t prefer smoking dope all day, acting in soft­core porn movies and sleeping with the most inap­pro­priate part­ners? Oh, right, I almost forgot. There are life les­sons to be learned.

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