children

The Hollywood Complex

The Hollywood Complex (Directors: Dylan Nelson and Dan Sturman): The Hollywood Complex looks at the trials and tribu­la­tions of aspiring child actors and their fam­ilies who make their way to Hollywood every spring for television’s “pilot season,” when most net­works and cable chan­nels do casting for their shows. The film fol­lows the stories of a handful of kids and their par­ents, who all tem­por­arily reside at the Oakwood apart­ment com­plex in North Hollywood. The Oakwood spe­cial­izes in housing young talent, providing a like-minded envir­on­ment for its cli­en­tele and direct access to a net­work of acting coaches, work­shops, casting agents, and pho­to­graphers, all of whom sell hope, along with their spe­cific services.

The bulk of the doc­u­mentary, which was fin­ished just four days prior to its world premiere at Hot Docs, chron­icles each child’s struggle to stand out in a crowd of thou­sands. Shanna, 13, is just in from Colorado and a com­plete newbie to Hollywood, accom­panied by her skep­tical yet sup­portive mother. Cruelly, before Shanna has even gotten into the game she’s at a dis­ad­vantage, as we find out that the odds of landing a role for young teen­agers or someone in their late tweens decreases sig­ni­fic­antly because of the abund­ance of kids in this age group who are com­peting for the jobs avail­able. It’s an oddball spin on the “act­resses over the age of 40 have a hard time finding work” axiom. The Casa family has five kids making the audi­tion rounds, which makes for cramped enough accom­mod­a­tions at the Oakwood that one of them has to sleep under a table. Mama Casa says that she’s pretty open to having one of her sons take on any role, as long as it’s nothing that glor­i­fies Satan. Then there’s the annoy­ingly pre­co­cious Megan, who exudes con­fid­ence and thinks it’s a good strategy to show up at one audi­tion dressed in a garish, age-inappropriate outfit that is sure to make an impres­sion. It doesn’t. Megan’s mom, also extro­verted and quirky, tiredly admits that they’ve had some­where in the neigh­bour­hood of 40+ straight audi­tions with no call­backs. Perhaps in an effort to change her luck, Megan ends up chan­ging her stage name to “Presley Cash.”

Additional by-products of the film’s focus are exam­in­a­tions of celebrity cul­ture, the ugly side of show busi­ness, and the lengths that mothers and fathers will go to for their chil­dren. I expected to see some examples of the pro­ver­bial “stage moms,” or par­ents who were just attempting to live vicari­ously through their kids, but there was really no evid­ence of this in the film (at the post-screening Q&A ses­sion the dir­ectors said they were sur­prised at how little of it they encountered). The fact that none of the fam­ilies we see appear to come from an affluent back­ground only adds extra emphasis to their struggles and the gamble they’re taking. In one scene, we see a mother rum­ma­ging through a recyc­ling bin with one of her kids in an effort to scrounge up bottles that will give her a little extra cash. The well-known sleazy side of show busi­ness rears its ugly head fre­quently, with the two best examples being one scene where a young child going up for a role as a dying patient on House is encour­aged to watch YouTube videos of real kids who are dying, as well as another scene where a casting agent deciding on a young girl for a role says that he needs one with “no tit­ties.” That line eli­cited a mass groan from the theatre audience.

Directed by Dylan Nelson and Dan Sturman (Sturman brought his excel­lent Soundtrack for a Revolution to Hot Docs’ Doc Soup series last year), the film is a revealing and some­what dis­turbing look into a seg­ment of show busi­ness where chil­dren are com­monly objec­ti­fied for our enter­tain­ment and treated as a com­modity, and are willing par­ti­cipants (along with their par­ents) while doing so. The Hollywood Complex should be imper­ative viewing for any kids and their par­ents seeking fame and fortune.

Official site of the film

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Babies

Babies (Director: Thomas Balmès): I’d been enchanted by the trailer since I first saw it a few months ago. Described by its pro­ducer and ori­gin­ator Alain Chabat as “a wild­life film [about] human babies,” this doc­u­mentary observes four babies in dif­ferent parts of the world as they grow from birth to their first steps. Ponijao from Namibia and Bayarjargal from Mongolia live in wide-open rural envir­on­ments while Mari from Tokyo and Hattie in San Francisco grow up in more struc­tured urban set­tings. The film is strictly obser­va­tional; there is no voi­ceover and any par­ental dia­logue is pur­posely kept in the back­ground. What the film accom­plishes well is to allow us to com­pare these four devel­oping infants and note the sim­il­ar­ities and dif­fer­ences in their growth. We also get to see dif­fer­ences in par­enting styles, which gives the film some of its humour. For instance, the rural kids seem much more free to explore their envir­on­ments and their rela­tion­ships with animals grow out of neces­sity, since their fam­ilies’ live­li­hoods depend on live­stock. While the urban par­ents seem more involved in their children’s lives, there are fewer oppor­tun­ities for unstruc­tured play and acci­dental discoveries.

The dif­ferent loc­ales are all visu­ally inter­esting and the static cine­ma­to­graphy and long scenes allow the audi­ence to immerse them­selves in the per­spective of each baby. Since the focus in each scene is on the baby, and never on the par­ents, you come to feel you’re actu­ally watching each char­acter grow and change as the film progresses.

While I thor­oughly enjoyed Babies, I think it may be chal­len­ging for some audi­ences. To put it bluntly, I think the actual film may seem too high­brow for a mass audi­ence while the basic concept may turn off the art­house audi­ence as too com­mer­cial. Which isn’t to say it won’t make bags of money, at least for a doc­u­mentary. But some of my col­leagues found it boring, and lost patience with its long scenes and rather linear nar­rative arc. Mind you, none of them are par­ents. Neither am I, for that matter, but I found the chil­dren charming and was fas­cin­ated to see them lit­er­ally fig­uring out prob­lems as we observed. I think the “cute” factor will draw a lot of people on the film’s opening weekend, but its slow pacing and lack of dia­logue may lead to some less-than-positive word of mouth, which would be a shame. For the patient and child-friendly viewer, Babies delivers its fair share of rewards.

8/10(8/10)

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Antoine
Editor’s Note: I’ve decided to begin posting some reviews of films screening at Hot Docs 2009 early, hope­fully helping anyone attending make some decisions about what to see. Antoine is screening on Tuesday May 5 at 7:30pm at the Royal Cinema and Wednesday May 6 at 4:30pm at the Cumberland Cinema.

Antoine (Director: Laura Bari): Six-year-old Antoine Houang will steal your heart. Blind since birth, Antoine nev­er­the­less approaches the world with end­less curi­osity and enthu­siasm. A poet in a tiny body, he spends his days playing a game of “private detective” invest­ig­ating the dis­ap­pear­ance of a cer­tain “Madame Rouski.” Bari shoots the entire film from a kid’s-eye per­spective and never intrudes. But she takes cinema verité to another level, res­ulting in a lush voyage into a pre­co­cious ima­gin­a­tion. Although Antoine cannot see, the film itself is filled with bright col­ours and unfor­get­table images. The adven­turous Antoine runs, skates, rides horses, (pre­tends to) drive a car, and more. Bari, an edu­cator, col­lab­or­ated with Antoine over a two-year period and let him choose the detective game as a struc­turing device. Her film was both a cre­ative endeavour and an attempt to learn more about the pro­cess of per­son­ality form­a­tion in chil­dren. But that’s not expli­citly spelled out in the film, nor need it be.

Entering Antoine’s world means you will listen as he takes calls from the elu­sive Madame Rouski on his cell­phone, as he recalls his memories and his “non-memories”, and as he gathers his friends Mäelle and Juliette to help him invest­igate the case. A true col­lab­or­ator on the film, Antoine chose sounds to record and is often seen wearing his head­phones and car­rying his micro­phone around. In between updates on the “case,” we see Antoine at home and at school, where he’s integ­rated in a reg­ular Montréal classroom.

Antoine

Some might wish this was a more tra­di­tional doc­u­mentary, with more focus on his family or his teachers, but I was swept away by the intel­li­gence and joy of this little boy and didn’t want to leave the world of his vivid ima­gin­a­tion. That being said, the passing of time in the doc­u­mentary (ie. the sea­sons, his sixth birthday, the end and begin­ning of the school year) pulled me out of the “plot” a little, and made me wonder how a child of his age could sus­tain a game for so long. It was only later that I learned that the game was some­thing worked out between him and the film­maker. That also makes me wonder a little bit about some of the incred­ibly poetic things Antoine says. I want to think that it’s all him, but it seems too incredible.

Nevertheless, Antoine is a remark­able boy, and Bari has made an abso­lutely delightful film. Much like Juraj Lehotsky’s Blind Loves (review), she has col­lab­or­ated with someone without sight to bring their ima­gin­a­tion to life, and the result is some­thing both visu­ally beau­tiful and incred­ibly moving.

Official site of the film

9/10(9/10)

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Rough Aunties
Editor’s Note: I’ve decided to begin posting some reviews of films screening at Hot Docs 2009 early, hope­fully helping anyone attending make some decisions about what to see. Rough Aunties is screening on Tuesday May 5 at 6:30pm at the Bloor Cinema and Wednesday May 6 at 11:00am at the Isabel Bader Theatre.

Rough Aunties (Director: Kim Longinotto): The line between work and home is very thin indeed for the women of Operation Bobbi Bear in Durban, South Africa. This mul­tiracial group invest­igate the most hor­rific cases of child sexual and phys­ical abuse, providing coun­seling and making sure the per­pet­rators are pro­sec­uted, even in the face of bur­eau­cratic indif­fer­ence. Some of the testi­mony is extremely hard to listen to, but these women have heard it all, and con­tinue to come to work, even when their own home lives become chaotic.

In fact, a good por­tion of the film is ded­ic­ated to some of the tra­gedies that befall two of the “rough aunties” and it drives home the fact that these women are just as vul­ner­able as the fam­ilies they serve. Many of them have come out of situ­ations where they were raped and beaten, and they bring their own pain to work every day. Though it’s not clear from the film, the organization’s founder Jackie Branfield, though white, did not grow up in the priv­ileged envir­on­ment that one might sus­pect. In fact, though the organ­iz­a­tion is made up of both blacks and whites, it’s a thor­oughly blue-collar group, where the women have often had to struggle to raise their chil­dren by themselves.

If there is any weak­nesss in the film itself, it’s that some of the details are left out. We’re sort of thrown in mid-story and there isn’t a lot of con­text around where the organ­iz­a­tion came from and the full scope of the work it does. While that makes the story emo­tion­ally involving, it leaves out a lot of inform­a­tion that might make the char­ac­ters even more inter­esting. I think it would also have been helpful to place the seem­ingly common prac­tice of child rape into a cul­tural con­text. In AIDS-ravaged South Africa, there is a rampant (if ludicrous) belief that having sex with a virgin (even a child or a baby) will cure the dis­ease. Of course, you can see how this can create a hor­rific epi­demic of sexual abuse; and yet, no men­tion of this is made in the film.

This lack of con­text also makes it appear that these women are fighting a losing battle. It would have been inter­esting to con­nect their work with some of the other work being done to address the AIDS crisis in South Africa. Also, Operation Bobbi Bear has achieved some remark­able legal vic­tories, including the ability for rape vic­tims to access post-exposure pro­phy­laxis HIV med­ic­a­tion that can cut the risk of infec­tion by up to 80%. Some of this good news would have been wel­come after seeing some of the things these cour­ageous women face on a daily basis.

Official site of the film

A clip from the film

7/10(7/10)

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Enfances (Childhoods)

Enfances (Childhoods) (Directors: Yann Le Gal, Ismaël Ferroukhi, Corinne Garfin, Joana Hadjithomas, Khalil Joreige, Isild Le Besco, Safy Nebbou): This very inter­esting idea, brought to real­iz­a­tion by French dir­ector Yann Le Gal, brings together six short films, each con­cerning a pivotal moment in the child­hood of six great film dir­ectors: Fritz Lang, Orson Welles, Jean Renoir, Jacques Tati, Alfred Hitchcock, and Ingmar Bergman. I hadn’t heard of any of the segment’s dir­ectors before, but three or four of the seg­ments were out­standing. My favourite is the story of how Fritz Lang, at the age of ten, dis­covers a family secret that changes his politics and his whole out­look on life. Also excel­lent was the recol­lec­tion by Jean Renoir of how his friend­ship with a peasant child who teaches him how to hunt and steal gives him an appre­ci­ation for the injustice of class dis­tinc­tions. The seg­ments on Welles and Hitchcock, though good, were per­haps the weakest. But the seg­ment on Jacques Tati was per­haps the closest in spirit to an actual Tati film. The gangly Tati is too tall to fit into his class photo, so he wanders off into the school on an almost word­less adven­ture. The way he ends up in the photo is pure phys­ical comedy. The seg­ment on Bergman rounds out the film, and if I’d been more familiar with his work, I might have appre­ci­ated it more.

I really enjoyed the way each seg­ment not only told a story from the director’s life, but was also dir­ected in their sig­na­ture style. Although these omnibus films are always bound to be uneven, these six stories moved along at a great pace and made for a very enjoy­able (and hope­fully enlight­ening) experience.

Official site of the film

8/10(8/10)

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