"No" and "Leviathan" (New York Film Festival)

I've never seen Pablo Larrain's dour-sounding "Tony Manero" or "Post Mortem," but it seems as if his new film "No" is something of a departure. Both of the other films, I read, were set in the 70's, in Pinochet's rule and at the transition into it, respectively. "No" tells of how Chile took up the dictator's offer to overthrow him and ended up doing so with the help of some well-thought-out advertising. It's a fascinating subject that offers Larrain the chance to examine both the creative process (especially under pressure) and the idea of how to sell something in a respectable way. But "No" would be a much weaker film if it allotted screen time only to the side opposing Pinochet. Its greatest strength is a willingness to look at all sides of situation, and to see that these advertising opponents were much more connected than one would've liked to believe.

Gael Garcia Bernal's Rene Saavedra, the man whose audience-friendly ideas ultimately fueled the NO campaign, is also valuably not portrayed as a beacon. He's a cool, careful, cynical man whose family life is a bit of a shambles and who is nervous about risking his job to work with "Communists," especially when his boss Lucho Guzman (Alfredo Castro) is big-time Pinochet supporter. The relationship between these characters epitomizes the film's evenhandedness, and Bernal and Castro both deliver strong, complex performances. The film itself is an intricate venture, that looks honestly at motives (Saavedra wants to win this particular standoff, not necessary completely change Chile) and what it takes to appeal to everyone. Most importantly, this is a film that earns its celebratory close by looking at the pain that's been born and how much of a relief it is to try something different. Larrain's idiosyncratic choice to shoot the film on U-matic video (the same format as the ads Saavedra worked on) and edit as if he's directing one of those commercials is both inspired and a distraction, but it ends up feeling like a good move once the film settles in. B+

"Leviathan" by Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Verena Paravel (two highly-regarded young documentarians) is not a film you can describe easily. It's a movie that must be watched to be understood. That's not necessarily true of the talky and historic "No," or seemingly many of the other films at this festival ("Life of Pi" seems to be an exception, despite it being an adaptation). "Leviathan" is magnificent and monotonous, a focused work of sound and image that makes you aware of the fisherman, the fish, the boat, the bird, and the sea. It's so good, it may make you seasick. It contains some remarkable footage, both above and underwater, of the systematic catching, cutting, and disposing of various types of sea life off New Bedford, MA. There's also a focus on the wear that such a job puts on the fishermen, manifested in an unrelentingly long take of the captain slowly falling asleep. 

I can see why this film only was scheduled one time in the festival. It's more hardcore and stripped-down than even Frederick Wiseman would usually go (to be sure, he usually shot on land and in workspaces). The only audible speech is an Ancestry.com ad played on the radio. As I mentioned before, it possibly could cause motion sickness. And it's as devoted to its style as Bela Tarr was on his similarly textured "Turin Horse." But I feel, even if it could have been slightly cut down from its sparing 87 minute runtime, that "Leviathan" is an example of true, pure cinema: an experience that can't be reproduced in any way other than actually going out on a boat. A-

Goodbye First Love (and Corpo Celeste)

"Goodbye First Love" represents somewhat of a narrative growth for its director Mia Hansen-Løve, whom last time out made an almost entirely front-loaded picture in "The Father of My Children." This new work is just as mannered (sometimes for better, sometimes for worse), but it does tell a story from beginning to end, settling on a slow burning release of its emotional power instead of putting everything out there in a jolting wallop and not having anything to show for it by the end. Hansen-Løve still has the knack for finding and isolating small moments of intensely specific human nature, and certain scenes in this film are as moving as the memorable shot of the producer's look of abyss before suicide in "Father."  But, despite these poignant touches, I could never truly give myself over, feeling emotionally cut off by the polite, distanced style; the pleasing but misplaced soundtrack cues; and the (probably intentionally) lack of thematic rhythm or discipline (way too many alienating perspective changes, though it is good that we get to meet some interesting background characters).

I found the film to be most successful in its observation of the romantic behavior of Camille (Lola Creton), and how her gradual overall changes and coming of age can be reflected in her subtle moving away from dependence. We enter into her life when she's 15, entering as an audience via her beloved older boyfriend (and "first love" of the title) Sullivan (Sebastian Urzendowsky), who seems to care a lot about her (and enjoys the sex for sure) but still wants his own life separate from her. The idea of life without Sullivan is impossible to think of for Camille at this point, who doesn't have much of a developed social life outside of her tenuous relationship with him. This makes his decision to take a long trip to South America all the more devastating. The film's strongest section involves the two's final trip to the countryside, which proves erratic and summarizes both why they're perfect and wrong for each other. The moment where Camille, sitting opposite Sullivan at the end of a long table, crawls down a bench to meet him is remarkably tender and touching, and some of most life and reality that Hansen-Løve has ever put into a scene.

The rest of "Goodbye First Love" chronicles Camille's attempts to get over Sullivan and to start anew years later in a May-December romance with her divorced architecture teacher Lorenz (the excellent Magne-Havard Brekke), with some flare-ups of the past. But, as critic Mike D'Angelo observed, the lack of age difference between the 15 year old Camille and the college-age Camille is startling nearly to the point of distraction. The film looks like it was shot terribly out of sequence, as in certain moments the older Camille looks younger than the younger one. I guess it would have been an even poorer choice to cast a different actress in a slightly older role, but I'm not totally sure. Anyways, the film feels less in control here than before, sometimes trying to mimic the repetitive lifestyle of a girl whose life is consumed by an unreachable love, but also just feeling like it's just standing around, padding on (it's too long a film for sure).

A minor subject of the film is light and how spaces capture it. Lighting is the strength of Stephane Fontaine's cinematography, which is sometimes transcendent (examples include the image of the Camille and Sullivan lying in a luminous, subtly shifting forest, as well as the two providing a fading light to a Parisian darkness). It adds greatly to a familiar and uneven work from a filmmaker who's figuring out how to push herself, and who needs to change certain tendencies (like the bluntness of the extremely disappointing cop-out of an ending) before she can truly deserve the festival acclaim that she's gotten. B-

I have very little to say about Alice Rohrwacher's "Corpo Celeste," which hasn't really left a dent since the time I saw it a few weeks back, other than that it's trying too hard in its studied disapproval of the church. A lot of mileage is gotten out of the idea that the sacred is now profane, as if that wasn't obvious enough. There's some interesting imagery, and a somewhat involving lead in Marta (Yle Vianello), but the film overall is a bland time-waster, not worth devoting time to in this world where there's much more stimulating cinema to be taken in. C

The Robber (Der Rauber)

"The Robber" by Benjamin Heisenberg follows a man who simultaneously strives for recognition and wants to stay anonymous. He's a runner-cum-bank robber, Johann Rettenberger, and when he's released from prison on parole (after serving a sentence for armed robbery), he continues to be both of those things. He ascends in the sport out of nowhere (making his parole officer happy), and seems as if he could be poised for great things. But he is tied down by his theft, which leads him to steal cars (sometimes right under their owners' noses) and sometimes, rather sadistically, to leave people stranded in random locations for safety's sake. Yet, in retrospect, these events are pretty much inconsequential to the film and the character's arc. This goes to show how disconnected the film is; it really has little clue what it's about with a name like "The Robber."

The film is centered around Andreas Lust's performance in the lead. His sense of desperation helps the film out quite a bit, but at the same time, his insecurity in the role can be seen, especially in the scenes with the parole officer, where he verges on histrionics. This is a role where the actor has to be impeccable, and Lust, despite being strong, falls short. But he doesn't have the best support in the world, either: Heisenberg, working from a fictionalized novel by Martin Prinz (who collaborated on the screenplay), can't do much with banal plot developments, like a subplot with an obligatory love interest (Franziska Weisz) who obviously ends up causing a bit of trouble for Johann, and the film thus takes its place alongside the other films of the genre.

That's not to say it doesn't have its perks. There are some quite disarming moments. For example, one scene, set in a movie theater, does a lot by going "Shirin"-style and not showing the film playing, but only focusing on Johann and his girlfriend, and the effect is nicely curious. And, in general, the film's cinematography and lighting are stunning. There is bravura motion photography, and there are also more than a couple striking images, such as a follow shot that creates an extremely disorienting effect. Much of the film looks like it was painted. But that only partially makes up for the film's narrative fumbling, and the final shot is nowhere near as powerful as it could have been. Maybe remaking the film in America, with a younger actor (Andrew Garfield), will lead to greatness, but the parts will probably not be in order, and I think we'll have to simply regard "The Robber" and long for what could have been. C+

Film Socialisme, Meek's Cutoff, and missing Old Cats (New York Film Festival)

My final day at the New York Film Festival was a serious overload. Last time was hard enough, but imagine starting the day in the 3:00 slot and continuing with not only 2 other features (6:00 and 9:15) but also two 10-minute-plus shorts in between. Add to that the fact that I was pretty sick, which didn't do me any favors for the last film that I saw. That was the world premiere of "Old Cats." I felt pretty much like I was going to faint, so I had to leave the film early. I hadn't seen enough of it to make a real judgement, but I was intrigued by it, and if I had been at full strength I would have stuck around.

Anyways, on to the films that I did actually see. Jean-Luc Godard's "Film Socialisme" does some interesting things with sound and image conventions, such as juxtaposing supposedly "meaningful" music with stuff you wouldn't particularly associate with it, recording a blasting club scene with a digital camera with poor audio, flashing a blank screen, and making some jarringly unexpected cuts on the tracks. Godard also does some nice compositions and has a beautiful shot of waves crashing against each other in slow motion.

But he makes some tiresome choices that make the film pretty hard to tolerate. The most prominent would be making the film have "Navajo subtitles," which means a faulty and erratic readout that blends words together and sometimes doesn't even give them. This is a middle finger thrown by Godard, and it irritated me. (To tell you the truth, a lot of things irritated me about this movie. I'm guessing that was entirely intentional on Godard's part.) However, it's not as if what the (irritating) actors are saying is particularly profound. In fact, it seems like it's the same sort of rhetoric that populates all of his work.

There's not a lot one will gain from seeing this film. I personally wish I'd walked out or just seen something different. I understand Godard's tactics, and they had some effect on me. And it's interesting to see his presumable swan song. But the film has already pretty much decayed in my mind. C

After a movie like that one, I was ready to be astonished by Kelly Reichardt's "Meek's Cutoff," but that simply didn't happen. Maybe it was the short that came before it (the somewhat needless "Day Trip" by Zoe McIntosh) that shook me from the right mood. Maybe it was the fact that it was slotted second. Maybe it was all of the people who came in late and who were escorted around with blaring flashlights. In any event, this overrated film failed to grip or engage me. (I feel very similarly to Joshua Rothkopf, who articulated this feeling in this piece.)

I really wanted to like it a lot, but I was faced with a smartly-written but monotonous and underwhelming film with nothing more than a couple of good moments. The film has an unrecognizable Bruce Greenwood in what could be considered either an excellent or massively hammy performance as Stephen Meek, who is taking a brood of 7 people on a tortuous and possibly aimless trip in 19th century Oregon. As my friend noted, we have no clue who these people are, where they've been, or where exactly they're going. Among them we have Emily and Soloman Tetherow (Reichardt regulars Michelle Williams and Will Patton), Thomas and Millie Gately (Paul Dano and Zoe Kazan), and Glory and Jimmy White (Shirley Henderson and Tommy Nelson) with their son William (Neal Huff).

Emily sees a recurrent figure: a horseman who disappears on the horizon, who she later sees up close. This "heathen" (Rod Rondeaux) the group eventually assimilates, desperately asking him for water and being afraid that he'll lead them into an ambush.

A huge mistake the film makes in my opinion is going the "classical" way and confining the aspect ratio to a box. Joshua Rothkopf calls this an "ugly western" and I totally agree when it comes to this "screen-fitting." The colors of Chris Blauvelt's good cinematography can also be a bit sickening as well, although I'm not exactly sure why. Another thing I'm unsure of is Michelle Williams' performance. It seems muddled between afraid and sure, and it's unclear whether that is intentional or not. Also on the subject of acting, famously plaintive Shirley Henderson seems rather oddly cast here after her work in Solondz's "Life During Wartime."

Many consider the film to be an exceptionally towering achievement. I understand their sympathies, but I don't really share them. Even in terms of Reichardt, I like "Wendy and Lucy" much better. C

As noted before, I had to leave "Old Cats" early due to feeling sick. I did catch the short film that opened for it, "Protect the Nation" by C.R. Reisser, which is energetic in that "Slumdog Millionaire"/"City of God"/3rd-world-country type way, but ultimately unresolved and sometimes a bit idiotic.

So that marks the end of an overwhelming NYFF 2010 for me. 5 1/4 features, 2 shorts, and no big discoveries, sadly (the best film I saw being the B- rated "Uncle Boonmee"). However, I will be seeing Mahamat-Saleh Haroun's "A Screaming Man" and Abbas Kiarostami's "Certified Copy" in the next few weeks as a part of the Philadelphia Film Festival, so there may be a favorable review around the corner ;).

Poetry, Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, Of Gods and Men (New York Film Festival)

Yesterday I shouldered one of my largest film loads ever on the second day of the 48th New York Film Festival. It was completely exhausting to say the least. It's not exactly the ideal way to analyze a film, as each film affects the perception of the film after it, and it can be hard to have an equal attention span and open mind for each film.

My first day here (I will return in a couple weeks) was distinctly a Cannes one. I saw three award winners and thus three films of the Official Competition.

The first film I saw was "Poetry," directed by Lee Chang-dong, winner of Best Screenplay at that festival. The best thing about this movie was definitely its lead performance by Jeong-hee Yoon, who I had doubts about in the beginning but who settled very well into the part. She is the nicely costumed Mija, an Alzheimer's patient who's taken on her grandson from his bizarrely absent mother and who has a job assisting a disabled man (who wants sex from her). She also makes time for a poetry class, where she is taught such rudimentary and naïve "wisdom" about the art that I wonder if Chang-dong is doing a slight satire.

While she is observing apples "for the first time," her grandson is feverishly meeting with his friends. She wonders what this is about, as she plays a very inactive role in his life. She soon is plunged straight in, when one of the kids' fathers brings her to a meeting where a bomb is dropped: her grandson was a participant in a gang rape, which lead to the victim committing suicide (which is shown at the beginning of the film). Mija is aghast, but, disturbingly enough, none of the fathers are, who just see it as something to take care of. Mija is the only person to even think about attending the services of the girl and is made by the group to go talk to the mother to reach a settlement ("woman to woman," they say).

The film has a score of problems with it, notably the fact that it's way too long. The film lingers on poetry readings that bring up an interesting thought but have only a minor significance in the plot and could have been slightly cut down. Also able to be cut would be the "Up in the Air"-style, "What is you happiest moment?" monologues, which again serve a very small purpose and one could give the important info in a much-less time-consuming way.

My other big complaint is a lack of resolution. I'm not referring to the ending, which is nicely symmetrical, if a little muddled. I'm talking about the way that the film barely penetrates the psyche of Mija's grandson. He's a disappointingly basic character, relegated to his vessels of television and computer, which may well be the point. But I'm pretty sure I would have liked a little more into him. However, I will give Chang-dong plaudits for leaving Mija (moderately) underexposed (other than as a karaoke singer and as one who apparently attracted the attention of men with her smile). C+

My next screening was Apichatpong Weerasethakul's "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives," which garnered the Palme d'Or and also much high praise. Based on a novel called "A Man Who Can Recall His Past Lives," Weerasethakul dives into the story that he tipped off in "Tropical Malady." Uncle Boonmee (Thanapat Saisaymar, well played) is losing his life to a kidney sickness, spending his last days at his farm with his nephew Tong (Sakda Kawebuadee, who's in other of Weerasethakul's films) and sister-in-law Jen (Jenjira Pongpas). His wife makes an appearance in regular ghost form, as does his son Boonsong, who tramples up the porch steps with his eyes red and in a bizarre costume. Why, you may ask? He's a monkey ghost, having sought them with his camera and then mated with one.

The film is soporific and impenetrable at times, though that's common for a Weerasethakul movie. They require for one to control their "monkey mind," and that can be hard. However, the films also click, and "Boonmee" does. I liked the scenes involving the catfish, the conversation Boonmee has with his wife, and the walk through the fields Boonmee and Jen take with a taste of honey. And even if the film can get a little insufferable, it is nicely shot, sound designed, and set-pieced.

I give Weersethakul the benefit of the doubt in most cases, but the ending, which can be understood on a certain level, and where Joe makes another of his scathing critiques of the profane eroding the sacred, found me very disappointed. I know Joe, and I know he can reach far. "Tropical Malady" and "Syndromes and a Century," however they were flawed, definitely did this (even if they ended similarly abruptly). Even the short that this film was sort of based off of, "A Letter to Uncle Boonmee," is more ambitious. I'm selling the film a little short, though. The ending has some validation to it, and the film that precedes it is good. But if it had taken 20 more minutes to explore something more, it would have been more of the home run that everyone had said it was (though maybe not). It definitely says something about my perception of the film that I was hesitant to buy a T-shirt after the screening. However, I will see this film again (as other critics have done), as that definitely helped with "Tropical Malady." B-

However, I was much more captivated by it than by Xavier Beauvois' Gran Prix winner "Of Gods and Men," which unfortunately came at the end of this long day, when I was not ready for it. I liked the first shots and the last shot, and the cinematography throughout. However, everything else I found extremely dull, perhaps due to the erratic editing. It's so much a "Sony Pictures Classic" that it seems like Michael Barker and Tom Bernard oversaw the production. One thing that must be said about the film is that it is very thought-provoking. However, the thoughts it provokes have nothing to do with the film.

It follows monks in Algeria as their religious routine is disrupted by terrorists. The monks are headed by Christian (Lambert Wilson), who takes long walks in plain clothes and who's actively against fleeing the monastery. We also have bearded Luc (Michael Lonsdale), who's the doctor of the monastery and whose amount of patients steadily increases as the film goes on and the attackers persist, and Christophe (Olivier Rabourdin), who just wants to leave. Also there's Amedee (Jaques Herlin), who looks like Mike Leigh and plays as the film's constant comic relief, much to my annoyance.

There's a lot of chanting, a lot of roundtable discussions, and a lot of nice camera spreads. That's what I picked up, as, like what happened with "Salt," I disconnected myself. The film probably deserves another look from me, but I'm not exactly looking forward to seeing it again, in its 120 minutes of repetitive boredom (save at the beginning). And with that line, I probably disqualify myself. C

Disclaimer: As Peter Sciretta of /film said, there will be people who like this film a lot.

I will be back for more festival coverage in two weeks, with reviews of "Film Socialisme," "Meek's Cutoff," and the world premiering "Old Cats." I hope a "festival discovery" will be made there, because there weren't really any yesterday.