This is such a very strange way to live. Last night, while running from the Paramount to Jackman Hall, I actually felt a bit drunk, outside of myself. I’d come out of Capote, my fourth film of the day, and was surprised to find it dark outside. The sun had set, and I couldn’t recall having seen it that day. My back is starting to hurt, and, to be frank, so is my ass.
I haven’t decided if the quality of films is improving or if I’m simply developing calluses to sentimentality and failed ambitions, but I’ve seen several good films (though few great ones) since my last update — and not a dud in the lot. A few more first impressions . . .
I Am
Dir. by Dorota Kedzierzawska
I added I Am to my schedule because it was selected for NYFF and because the still image in the TIFF program is so stunning. It’s of a young girl, her head resting on a wooden table lit by candlelight. She’s staring at the camera, and another hand reaches from beyond the frame to stroke her cheek. It reminded me of the farmhouse scenes in Tarkovsky’s Mirror, and, as it turned out, so did many other images from the film. It’s just beautiful to look at. Amazing, really. The sepia-toned palette seems to have been chosen to match the freckles on the cheeks of the young boy at the center of the film. But the film lacks the mystery and transcendence of Tarkovsky (an unfair comparison, I realize). I Am is a “child in peril” story, and I’m not sure what more to say about it.
Perpetual Motion
Dir. by Ying Ning
I have a real weakness for this type of film. A successful woman learns her husband is having an affair, so she invites to her home her three best friends. They gather to celebrate the spring holiday, but the host’s real goal is to discover which woman has betrayed her. As in a Bergman chamber drama or a Eugene O’Neill play, the characters in Perpetual Motion move gradually from light-hearted small talk to brutally frank discussions of their loss and pain. During her Q&A, director Ning Yang told us she is frustrated by depictions of women in Chinese cinema, claiming that one symptom of liberal markets is the commodification of youth and beauty. The result, she said, is that young women in Chinese films become copies of copies. With Perpetual Motion, she’s trying to counter that trend by focusing on menopausal women (her word), and she’s made a hell of a film in the process. I have several pages of notes on this film, too, and look forward to writing it up when I get home. Great film. I like it more with each day.
Something Like Happiness
Dir. by Bohdan Sláma
My new favorite shot of the festival: Camera cranes up over the horizon of a field we’ve seen earlier in the film, pans to the left to reveal (and reintroduce) a major character, follows her down a path, then waits behind her as a bulldozer knocks down a brick wall a few feet away. I’d have to give away too many plot points to explain why the shot is so powerful, but it’s one good example of director Bohdan Slama’s creativity and economy of shotmaking. Something Like Happiness is another great festival find. Three fantastic performances (especially from Pavel Liska) and a really well-told story, from beginning to end. Too few films have had great final scenes this week; Something Like Happiness is the exception.
Mary
Dir. by Abel Ferrara
All of my friends are seeing Mary later in the week, so I’ll hold off posting too many comments until we’ve all discussed it, but for now I feel confident in calling it an interesting mess. Some parts work, others don’t — most of them don’t, actually. But I could maybe be convinced otherwise.
Little Fish
Dir. by Rowan Woods
I’ll admit it, I scheduled Little Fish in hopes of seeing Cate Blanchett. No luck. But the good news is that the film works. Blanchett and Hugo Weaving give the finest English-language performances I’ve seen all week — Weaving, especially. It’s a meaty role, for sure, but he knocks it out of the park. (Lord help me, I’m sounding like a celebrity reporter.) My family has been touched in really horrible ways by drug addiction, and Little Fish is one of the few films I’ve seen that shows adults (rather than teens and thugs) struggling to overcome the particular banality of its evil. Unfortunately, the script falls apart in the final act, but the film is worth seeing for the quieter scenes.
Capote
Dir. by Bennett Miller
I have way too many personal connections to this story to write objectively about the film. Joanna is from Monroeville, the small town in south Alabama where Truman Capote met Harper Lee, and Miss Nell is a friend of the family. (I haven’t had a chance to meet her, unfortunately.) I liked the film quite a lot, but perhaps what most surprised me is that, despite Hoffman’s Oscar buzz and the typical biopic trappings, Capote remains a genuinely small film. It feels European, even. It’s shot almost entirely in tight close-ups, for instance, and in really shallow focus. It’s a story told by the actors, by the slight expressions in their eyes. (The cinematographic style of Capote is actually quite similar to Laurent Cantet’s latest, Vers Le Sud, which I’ll write more about later.) I look forward to seeing it again with Joanna.
Wavelength
Dir. by Michael Snow
I traded my ticket to Gabrielle for a screening of Michael Snow’s landmark structuralist film, Wavelength. I’m really glad I did, as chances to see it projected with Snow in attendance are rare. Enough has been written about it already, but I’ll just add that I enjoyed all 45 minutes of it. Sometimes a film does live up to its reputation.
I saw two other films this morning, but will write about them later, when I have more energy. Cache begins in two hours. Haneke. I’m not sure how to get into the right head space for this one.