fathers-and-sons

Protagonist

Protagonist (Director: Jessica Yu, USA, 2007): I am SO tired right now, but I’m also glad that I made the effort to see this film. This was my third film of the day, and I had a gap of about three hours before it which made it very tempting for me to just go home and miss this. I’m very glad I didn’t.

Protagonist grew out of a meeting dir­ector Jessica Yu had with the two pro­du­cers, who wanted her to make a film about the Greek play­wright Euripedes. Intrigued by the idea, but not quite sure how to bring it to life, Yu read all of Euripedes’ plays over a summer, and came up with the idea of relating a recur­ring story arc through the telling of four modern-day real stories. She chose four men from dif­ferent back­grounds who seem­ingly have nothing in common, and then as their stories unspool, she weaves them together with some dia­logue from the plays, acted by specially-made pup­pets and using the ori­ginal Greek lan­guage (with sub­titles of course), and some innov­ative anim­ated inter­titles. If it sounds daring, it cer­tainly is, but it works completely.

The four men are all “formers”: a former ter­rorist from Germany, a former kung fu fan­atic, a former bank robber, and a gay former evan­gelist. Though I found myself won­dering why she picked these par­tic­ular men, they are all excel­lent storytellers, and as the film pro­gresses, we see that their stories are all exploring common themes.

In each of the men’s stories, there was an effort to over­come their fra­gility as human beings in order to tran­scend what they con­sidered their weak­ness. They aimed to be saints or supermen, and in all cases, they failed. The ideal­istic young polit­ical act­ivist became involved in a botched ter­rorist oper­a­tion that killed three people. The evan­gelist had him­self con­vinced that his gay thoughts were gone forever. The abused child who took revenge on his father liked the feeling of power so much that he began to ter­rorize others. And the kid everyone picked on became powerful by fol­lowing a mar­tial arts teacher who taught viol­ence by demonstration.

At some point, each of the men real­ized they were on the wrong path, and that their real selves had been frag­mented or sup­pressed in some way. Despite their thrill-seeking beha­viour, they had not tran­scended them­selves, but only lost them­selves. Each had to learn what man­hood really meant, and in all cases, it meant hum­bling them­selves and admit­ting that their previously-held cer­tainty was a lie.

This was a some­what chal­len­ging viewing exper­i­ence, and trying to put all the threads together demands some work from the audi­ence. It requires one to use a few parts of the brain that average doc­u­ment­aries don’t reach. You could say it’s a very artistic film, and I was impressed at how Jessica Yu is pushing the doc­u­mentary form into new shapes, all the while main­taining the core value of telling inter­esting stories in an inter­esting way. Protagonist has been the high point of the whole fest­ival for me, so far.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Jessica Yu 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: 13:18

Hot Docs pro­grammer Myrocia Watamaniuk inter­views Jessica Yu

Podcast inter­view with Joel Heller on Docs That Inspire

Official site for the film

10/10(10/10)

UPDATE (11/4/07): There is a trailer posted now on Apple’s site. As well, the film has a dis­trib­utor (IFC Films) and a new poster (below). It opens on November 30th in some cities.

Protagonist

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Tell Them Who You Are

Tell Them Who You Are (Director: Mark Wexler, USA, 2004): Oscar-winning cine­ma­to­grapher and dir­ector Haskell Wexler is a man who is invari­ably praised as bril­liant, but he has just as often called “a pain the ass to work with.” This por­trait by his son Mark Wexler delves beneath the accol­ades to find out what sort of man, and father, he really is. It’s a painful and awk­ward journey at times.

We get a standard series of talking heads, including actors, dir­ectors and other cine­ma­to­graphers who have worked with Wexler. We learn a few things: that des­pite all the accol­ades as a dir­ector of pho­to­graphy, Haskell Wexler suf­fers from colour blind­ness. Also, that he thinks he could have done a better job of dir­ecting every film he ever worked on as a cine­ma­to­grapher. The dif­fer­ence in a few of these inter­views is that Mark is often asking them for advice on get­ting closer to his dad, with whom he’s had a com­plic­ated rela­tion­ship. The fact that Mark chose to enter the same line of work as his dad may be the cause or the effect of this alienation.

Mark Wexler is clearly not the gifted cam­eraman that his father was. And he has spent years trying to emerge from his father’s enormous shadow. Which makes his decision to make this film an odd one. In trying to decipher his rela­tion­ship with his father, he has made the film he will be remembered for. And it’s a film in which Mark again fails to emerge from his father’s enormous shadow. It’s not that it’s not a powerful film. It’s just that the force of Haskell Wexler’s per­son­ality, even into his 80s, crowds out his son.

Both father and son express many times during the film their desire for the pro­ject to bring them closer, and by the end, per­haps it has, but I’ve often found it a par­tic­u­larly male issue that our most intimate inter­ac­tions with each other have to be medi­ated in some way. Many times in the film one or the other of the Wexlers are behind a camera while trying to express some awk­ward emotion.

In some ways, the fact that this is a very unpol­ished film works both for and against it. It’s cer­tainly not neatly resolved by the end, which is a strength, but on the other hand, Wexler Jr.‘s very art­less­ness as a film­maker comes across as a weak­ness. This is the source of a lot of humour in the film, since Haskell is often crankily dis­pensing advice to his son behind the camera.

Not in the film itself, but in one of the extras, we see Haskell’s reac­tion to the fin­ished film, and it’s extremely emo­tional and cath­artic to see him praising his son’s work, maybe for the first time in any sub­stan­tial way. It’s not a per­fect film, but I sup­pose as an emo­tional doc­u­ment of two people reaching toward each other, it’s per­fect enough.

Official site for the film

8/10(8/10)

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Souvenirs
Editor’s Note: Doc Soup is a monthly doc­u­mentary screening pro­gramme run by the good folks at Hot Docs. It gives audi­ences in Toronto (and now Calgary and Vancouver!) their reg­ular doc fix each year from the fall through to the spring, leading up to the Hot Docs fest­ival itself.

Souvenirs (2006, Directors: Shahar Cohen and Halil Efrat, Israel): This doc­u­mentary had its Canadian premiere at the Bloor Cinema in Toronto tonight. Souvenirs received a Best Documentary Award at the 2006 Doc Aviv Festival.

37 year-old Shahar Cohen went to film school for five years. Two years ago, he was unem­ployed, living in Jerusalem and wanted to make a film. The sub­ject? His 82-year-old father, Sleiman, who had served in World War II with the Jewish Brigade.

The angle? His father had a few girl­friends in Holland and it’s pos­sible that he might have left behind some “souvenirs” — chil­dren by two Dutch women.

So, father and son go on a road trip through Europe in search of lost lovers and sib­lings. What tran­spires is a charming and funny adven­ture where Sleiman and Sharar get to know each other better. The film also explores the role of the Jewish Brigade in the British army during the war.

I enjoyed Souvenirs a lot. Sleiman and his son aren’t very close but by the end of the film they make a con­nec­tion that strengthens their rela­tion­ship. You also gain some insight into life during the war through Sleiman’s many stories. And of course there are a few sur­prises along the way as Sharar tries to find out if he has any brothers or sis­ters from his father’s Dutch girlfriends.

Shahar Cohen was on-hand for a Q&A after the film. I was sur­prised to find out that he had written a script for his doc­u­mentary film! The script was com­pleted before filming but only used as an out­line for how Shahar wanted the film to unfold.

At times Shahar and his co-director Halil Efrat “manip­u­lated” Sleiman by get­ting him worked up to make a few scenes more dra­matic. They also filmed a lot of inter­views of Jewish Brigade mem­bers to trick Sleiman into thinking that the film was about the Brigade and not focusing solely on him.

I’m sure that their are some doc­u­mentary pur­ists who would frown upon these Michael Moore-like tac­tics, but it does make for a more inter­esting film.

More inform­a­tion on the film

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The Squid And The Whale

The Squid And The Whale (USA, dir­ector Noah Baumbach): This film con­tained the best ensemble acting I’ve seen this year. Based on the auto­bi­o­graph­ical exper­i­ences of writer and dir­ector Baumbach (co-writer of Wes Anderson’s The Life Aquatic — Anderson serves as pro­ducer on this film), The Squid And The Whale is about the family dynamics of a family of four going through a divorce in the mid-eighties. Father (Jeff Daniels) is a writer whose best days are behind him, yet he remains an unre­pentant snob. Mother (Laura Linney) is also a writer, about to have her first novel pub­lished. When her mul­tiple infi­del­ities emerge, the par­ents decide to divorce. Their sons Walt and Frank are thrown into tur­moil. This is not ori­ginal stuff. But the writing is of such high quality, and the per­form­ances so genuine, that I found myself drawn right in.

The film is obvi­ously told from the sons’ per­spective. Walt seems to be like his father, snobby and self-righteous, while younger Frank seems more sens­itive, though also more self-destructive. Kevin Kline and Phoebe Cates’ son Owen Kline is a rev­el­a­tion in this role. His sister Greta also appears briefly in the film. You might remember these two from The Anniversary Party, but this is really a breakout role for Owen, and I hope he’ll con­tinue acting.

The film makes it pain­fully aware how people hurt each other when they can’t talk dir­ectly about their feel­ings. Daniels is excel­lent as a man whose intel­lec­tual pride and snob­bery hide his deep insec­ur­ities and the pain of rejec­tion by his wife. And Laura Linney is able to make even an unsym­path­etic char­acter a little less blame­worthy. The only issues I had the film are prob­ably related to its min­is­cule budget. The hand­held cam­er­a­work is often a little bumpy, and the film feels a little unpol­ished. But after hearing how Baumbach had a 23-day shooting schedule, and took five years to obtain the funding for the film, I have to give him credit for pro­du­cing a smart and moving piece of cinema.

Just as an aside, I was pleas­antly sur­prised when the end credits rolled that the beau­tiful titles I’d been noti­cing were designed by Torontonian Leanne Shapton, who was art dir­ector at Saturday Night magazine for a few of its most visu­ally exciting years (circa 2000–2001). I’m glad to see she’s finding new places to bring her great eye for design.

9/10(9/10)

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The Swenkas

The Swenkas (Denmark, 2004, Director: Jeppe Rønde, 72 minutes): This film was really unlike any other doc­u­mentary I’ve ever seen. The Swenkas are a group of about 20 Zulu men who gather each weekend to “swank”: they dress up in fancy suits and jew­ellery and com­pete before a judge to see who is the most stylish. Sort of a “Lord of the Bling” (ooh, couldn’t resist!). But it’s more than just fun for them. Swanking rep­res­ents self-respect, and these men emphasize cer­tain values such as clean­li­ness and sobriety. It’s as if the old adage “Clothes make the man” has come to life. Even though some may think these men are spending far too much money on their clothes, it seems to have given them the pride they need to be suc­cessful in life. Certainly no one in their fam­ilies com­plains. Besides, some­times they com­pete for large sums of money (or even, now and then, a cow.)

The reason the film stands out is the way it has been crafted. Director Rønde uses the framing device of a fic­tional nar­rator, an old Zulu vag­a­bond who tells us a bit about the group, but also sets up the dra­matic arc of the story: the leader of the Swenkas has just died, and his son is grieving and thinking about abandoning the group. This storyline gives the film the feeling of a fic­tional film, and at times it’s hard to believe that the whole thing isn’t care­fully scripted.

The dir­ector explained after­wards that he never told the par­ti­cipants what to say, but that since Zulu cul­ture is built around storytelling and the Swenkas were all used to per­forming, each par­ti­cipant had no trouble “per­forming” in the film. But they really were working through a dif­fi­cult time in the life of their group.

The result is a beau­ti­fully shot, and even more beau­ti­fully edited film that feels more like a fable. The recur­ring themes are hope and the rela­tion­ship between fathers and sons. The dir­ector actu­ally told us that this film is the second in a tri­logy about faith, hope and love, and I found myself really eager to see the other films. A standard doc­u­mentary approach, with inter­views and such, would have made an inter­esting film. Jeppe Rønde’s unorthodox approach has given us a tran­scendent one.

More inform­a­tion on the film here.

10/10(10/10)

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