greece

Black Field (Mavro livadi)
Black Field plays as part of Inside Out on Saturday May 28 at 7:15pm at the TIFF Bell Lightbox.

Black Field (Mavro livadi) (Director: Vardis Marinakis): Continuing the recent trend in Greek cinema of presenting iden­tity and sexu­ality as mon­stros­ities res­ulting from a sheltered and abject upbringing, Black Field – sim­ilar to Dogtooth (review) and Attenberg – con­fronts its audi­ence with inac­cess­ible char­ac­ter­iz­a­tions and a stark depic­tion of dis­torted ideals mani­fested in human form upon youthful sexual awakening. The main dis­tinc­tion here is that while the other titles take place in modern times, clearly com­menting on a declining Greek eco­nomy after years of instant grat­i­fic­a­tion without foresight, Black Field jumps back to the 17th cen­tury to isolate its vacuum paradigm, which unfolds in a rural cloister.

The story is simple enough, fol­lowing an injured and unnamed Jannisary (Hristos Passalis) through the coun­tryside to a cloister where he col­lapses under the weight of injuries into the care of a group of nuns, but it plays out in a some­what uncon­ven­tional and unex­pected manner, des­pite a very sombre and delib­erate tone and pace. Anthi (Sofia Georgovassili), a younger, socially isol­ated nun, takes to treating his wounds, retreating to her room to play out dirty sexual fantasies about the virile war­rior in her head.

We learn early on that Anthi has a penis, which we see as he cuts his inner thighs to sate his under­stand­able internal pain. It’s an appro­priate choice that detracts from the pos­sib­ility of a Crying Game shock, which helps fur­ther the didactic inten­tions, asking the audi­ence to assess nature versus nur­ture and the psy­cho­lo­gical nature of repressing and shel­tering someone from a world they’re bound to even­tu­ally confront.

Shot with all encom­passing static com­pos­i­tion and long takes of the land­scape in rela­tion to char­acter, this dis­torted coming-of-age also works as an aes­thetic treat, con­vin­cingly depicting the 17th cen­tury with its dampened stone nun­nery and seem­ingly untouched snip­pets of nat­ural envir­on­ment. It heightens that sense of social isol­a­tion neces­sary to detail the spe­cificities of the rela­tion­ship that develops between the Turkish sol­dier and the trans­gendered nun.

Even if delib­er­ately cold, never offering any sort of close-up emo­tional cath­arsis or human­izing reac­tionary per­spect­ives, this Greek import never suf­fers from a lack of pro­voca­tion and intrigue, offering a variety of topics for dis­cus­sion. Plus, Anthi lifts up her habit at one point, flashing the entire nun­nery, which leads to a sui­cide. Even if the aca­demic and dra­matic aspects of the film don’t appeal, this sequence alone can at least inspire a few inap­pro­priate chuckles.

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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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Today the full schedule was announced and I picked up my TIFF pro­gramme book. There are way more films than I’ll be able to see, but here are a few more that I’m hoping not to miss:

Mr. Nobody

Mr. Nobody (Director: Jaco van Dormael): No recently announced film had me more excited than this one. Jaco van Dormael dir­ected the incred­ible Toto le héros (1991) but has taken a very long sab­bat­ical from film­making. This film, his first in 13 years, seems remin­is­cent of Toto, which makes me very happy indeed. Jared Leto plays Nemo, at 120 the oldest living man in the year 2092. He’s also the last mortal, since advances in stem-cell tech­no­logy means nobody has to die any­more. But Nemo is dying, and coming to terms with a life­time of memories, not all of which can be real. Or can they?

Official site of the film (French)

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Dogtooth (Kynodontas)

Dogtooth (Kynodontas) (Director: Giorgos Lanthimos): A family where the teen­aged chil­dren are not allowed to leave the house, are taught the wrong words for everything, and are sexu­ally “relieved” occa­sion­ally by one of their father’s employees? This sounds like a social exper­i­ment gone wild, and the reviews from Cannes were puzzled but pos­itive. It’s some kind of satire, prob­ably about the fear of sex as a corrupting/liberating force, but the stills I’ve seen (and that poster!) have me curious just to look at it. Note: The embedded trailer below is not work-safe. There is some brief nudity.

***

Hiroshima

Hiroshima (Director: Pablo Stoll): From the co-director of Whisky (2004) comes a “(mostly) silent musical” about the director’s brother Juan, who is unable to com­mu­nicate except through his music. As lead singer of a band, Juan has oppor­tun­ities to express him­self, but without music, finds him­self cut off from the world and people around him. This prom­ises to be quite moving, since Stoll’s long­time co-director Juan Pablo Rebello took his own life in 2006 and the film is being talked about as a tribute of sorts to him. The descrip­tion doesn’t quite make clear whether Juan Stoll is acting or just playing him­self, which adds another layer of poignancy to the story.

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