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ROTTERDAM: Elaine looks at MISCHKA, HEDWIG, WHISPERING SANDS, HIDDEN HALF, EVERY GOD KISSES US ON THE MOUTH!!!
Hey folks, Harry here with the final report from Elaine of this year's ROTTERDAM INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL. She's been just a bang up great pair of eyes, ears and an amputated baker's dozen of fingers keeping us on the up-n-up on everything going down in that wonderful land of film. Well folks, take a look... mark down the films on her top ten list and just think... Someday you may see those titles, if you do.. see them, cuz the lovely Elaine says so...
Hi Harry,
Here, finally, is the last instalment of my Rotterdam
coverage. I meant to get it to you earlier, but social
engagements kept me from the two things I love most:
films and writing. I hope that the size of the report
will make up for the wait...
DAY 10
I missed Holland's grand royal wedding in order to
attend the final day of the festival. I'm glad I did,
though, for if it hadn't been for the very
disappointing closing film, Day 10 would have ranked
amongst the best days I have had in Rotterdam. Three
of the four films I saw were excellent; two of these
("Whispering Sands" and "The Hidden Half") were so
good that they actually made my festival top-10,
ranking 5th and 6th, respectively. Extensive reviews
of these two films and the other two I saw ("Hedwig
and the Angry Inch" and "Mischka") follow below.
I'm also including a review of Sinisa Dragin's "Every
Day God Kisses Us on the Mouth," a Romanian film I saw
on Day 4 but didn't get round to reviewing at the
time. Odds are you will never get to see it, but it
did get a Tiger Award for promising debut or second
film, so it deserves a bit of attention.EVERY GOD KISSES US ON THE MOUTH (Sinisa Dragin, 2001)
I love sepia films. As anyone who has seen "Avalon" or
"Eureka" can attest, there is something melancholy,
something incredibly atmospheric about black-and-white
films printed on colour stock (or whatever the
technical process is). And not just when Japanese
directors shoot them, either; Eastern Europeans are
getting the hang of the sepia trick, too, as Sinisa
Dragin's "Every Day God Kisses Us on the Mouth" proves
in an impressive manner.
"Every Day God Kisses Us on the Mouth" (In fiecare zi
Dumnezeu ne saruta pe gura) is the story of a man and
his goose. The man, Dumitru, is a serial killer whose
prison sentence has failed to cure him of his
homicidal habits; the goose, which may or may not
represent innocence, is a prize he wins just before he
kills his first victim, and the only being he truly
cares for. Whether the two eventually find happiness
together is a question that appears to be left
unanswered, but you could do worse than try and find
out for yourself.
"Every Day God Kisses Us on the Mouth" could be
described as a fable about guilt. Rather than chart
the police hunt that follows Dumitru's murder spree,
as an American serial killer drama would, it focuses
on Dumitru's own reactions to his violent outbursts,
which range from guilt and self-loathing to a growing
belief that he does what he does because God wishes
him to, and that he won't be caught or killed until he
has served his divine mission. By concentrating on the
religious aspects of Dumitru's acts of violence, the
film in effect becomes a study in fate and
predestination, in which fate catches up with Dumitru
in the shape of the wife of his first victim - the one
he killed just after he acquired the goose.
Interestingly, this woman (a gypsy) is the only person
in the film who is occasionally invested with some
colour, which makes her an even more sinister presence
than she already is.
With its deterministic tone and the oppressive
atmosphere created by the black-and-white photography,
"Every Day God Kisses Us on the Mouth" could have
become an utterly depressing film. However, thanks to
some pitch black humour (culminating in a love scene
in which two very drunk and very undignified
middle-aged alcoholics get very messy indeed) and a
refreshing refusal to moralise, the film is actually
quite bearable. In fact, it is pretty powerful, and
where the relationship between Dumitru and his goose
is concerned, it even becomes poetical at times. There
aren't many mass murderer flicks which can claim a
poetic quality, so be sure to cherish this one.THE HIDDEN HALF (Tamineh Milani, 2001)
"Doctor Zhivago" set in Iran. That would be the pitch
for "The Hidden Half," the plea for open-mindedness
and objectivity that finished fifth in the Audience
Award standings despite holding second place until the
very last minute. It's a sweeping epic of love and
revolution which earned its director, Tamineh Milani,
a prison sentence, and if that isn't a reason to go
and see it, I don't know what is.
"The Hidden Half" is the story of Fereshteh, the
42-year-old wife of a high-ranking Tehrani judge. When
her husband is assigned to try the case of a female
political activist in whose motives he seems barely
interested, Fereshteh tries to convince him to give
the woman a fair trial by telling him about her own
life as a political activist, led before she met him.
A lengthy flashback then takes the viewer back to 1979
(the year of the Islamic Revolution), when Fereshteh
was a member of a communist organisation which helped
depose the Shah, only to be persecuted by the
fundamentalists once they had taken over power in the
country. What follows is the story of a 19-year-old
whose revolutionary ideals clash with her feelings for
an older, bourgeois publisher, and who ends up
learning that using her immediate sphere of influence
can be a more effective way to make a difference than
writing revolutionary poems.
Two things stand out about "The Hidden Half." First of
all, it is a remarkably accessible film. Although it
has the poetry and humanity of all good Iranian
cinema, it lacks the repetitiveness and stress on
insignificant activities that mars many Iranian
productions. There are no endless car repair scenes
here, nor symbolic references to obscure Persian
poetry; instead, one is treated to a fast-paced story
with intriguing plot turns and an emotionally
satisfying ending, which could be western if it
weren't for the scarves the women wear.
Secondly, "The Hidden Half" differs from its Iranian
counterparts in that it makes no secret of its
political agenda. Forget about innocent children
encountering sketchily drawn, barely-commented-upon
social injustice; this is a mature, socially engaged
drama in which a spade is called a spade and in which
government officials are explicitly requested to
listen to both sides of an argument before convicting
those who hold dissident opinions. And it doesn't stop
there; apart from being a plea for open-mindedness,
the film also has a strong feminist slant in that it
requests the right for women to show themselves "as
[they are], not as others want [them] to be," and to
acknowledge their love for "the people," as opposed to
the few persons they are supposed to serve at home. No
wonder the director spent some time in jail.
With so many messages to cram into 103 minutes, the
film might have turned into a political pamphlet, but
the opposite is true. "The Hidden Half" is not
heavy-handed proselytism; it is a tale of love and
confusion, with a heroine who inspires sympathy, a
hero who remains enigmatic until the very end, and a
judge who gains the sort of insight one hopes the
whole world will at some point acquire. If it does
occasionally try to teach the viewer a lesson, it does
so in a pleasant way, with plenty of grand emotions
and a surprisingly light-hearted sense of humour to
make up for the moralism. For make no mistake about
it: "The Hidden Half" is a funny film. Although Milani
clearly loves the idealistic communists and snobbish
intellectuals she depicts in her story, she is not
above poking a little fun at them, which results in
some charming scenes in which the teenage communists
discuss issues such as how many sets of clothes a
revolutionary is allowed to have and whether it is OK
to hang a photo of Gary Cooper between one's portraits
of famous revolutionaries. She also gets quite a kick
out of criticising socialist-realist writing, as
witnessed by the very funny scene in which Mr Javid
(the charismatic publisher with whom Fereshteh has a
relationship before she meets her later husband)
explains to Fereshteh the difference between realism
and socialist realism. It is little touches like
these, plus the genuinely compelling choices Fereshteh
has to make in the second half of the film, that make
"The Hidden Half" the gem it is.
"The Hidden Half" may well be the most important film
Iran has produced in the recent past. It is exotic
enough to be intriguing, yet universal enough to be
recognisable, and carries a message that seems even
more relevant today than it was when Milani shot the
film, both to those who occupy high positions in Iran
and to mankind in general.
If only George W Bush could be forced to see it... WHISPERING SANDS (Nan Achnas, 2001)
Some films are born out of a situation. Others have as
their point of departure a personality trait a writer
wishes to explore, or a message he wishes to pass on.
And yet others start with a location.
"Whispering Sands" is an instance of the latter. The
wind-swept dune landscape depicted in the film is more
than just a setting; it is a character in the film,
breathing, whispering and full of a mysterious power.
It is alive, and more atmospheric than any other
setting shown in this year's festival, including the
Arctic vastness of "Atanarjuat, the Fast Runner" and
the stunning cityscape of "Avalon."
Wow.
As is often the case with films which revolve around a
setting, the story of "Whispering Sands" doesn't
amount to much. What little story there is focuses on
the problematic relationship between 15-year-old Daya
(Dian Sastrowardoyo) and her overprotective mother
Berlian (Indonesian diva Christine Hakim), a single
mother who consistently addresses her only daughter as
"child." When the story opens, political unrest forces
Daya and Berlian to leave their seaside village, where
bodies are beginning to float ashore and houses are
regularly set on fire. In order to save their lives,
the duo flee to Pasir Putih ("Whispering Sands"), a
dune village which is supposed to be a place of
refuge. However, their new setting does not exactly
solve the problems between them. While Berlian (whose
highly symbolic name translates as "diamond") tries to
eke out a living in the barren wilderness that is
Pasir Putih, Daya has little to do but learn silly
Japanese songs and traditional dances. Disappointed by
her mother's aloofness, she begins to idealise her
absentee father in a way which makes it obvious to the
viewer that if the man ever returns, he will turn out
to be a total bastard. Thus, the stage is set for the
denouement, which is not only a rite of passage for
Daya but strengthens the bond between Daya and her
mother into the bargain.
"Whispering Sands" could be said to be a chick flick.
Apart from the problematic relationship between
Berlian and Daya, a lot of stress is put on Daya's
friendship with Sukma, the Pasir Putih girl who
initiates Daya in the mystic power of the sand. Yet
neither relationship is explored as fully as the
atmosphere of the Pasir Putih sandscapes. For more
than a film about changes in relationships,
"Whispering Sands" is a collection of images -
startlingly, hauntingly beautiful images. From the
scenic opening in the village which is eventually
burnt down to the poetic image of Daya lying on her
stomach to look for her dead friend in the sand
("Sukma, are you in there?"), the film strings
together a series of impossibly visually arresting
moments, filmed in widescreen and replete with some of
the most impressive colours I have seen outside a
Zhang Yimou film. Some of these moments are merely
atmospheric, such as the impresssions of the sand and
the sun above it; others are intensely symbolic, such
as the scene in which Daya plays with the mask that is
supposed to protect her from demons, or the one in
which the virtually nameless "child," after having
finally learned the alphabet, writes her name in the
sand. And then there are scenes in which hardly
anything happens but which somehow have a deeply
poetic quality - and they make up most of the film.
"Whispering Sands" is a rich, poetic experience that
simply drips with atmosphere. It won't appeal to those
who insist on a strong narrative or natural acting
(some of the performances here are a bit too
melodramatic for western tastes), but those who are
susceptible to visual poetry are likely to be blown
away by it. I certainly was, and I was by no means the
only one.HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH (John Cameron Mitchell,
2001)
A friend of mine once claimed that when two people
become one in a relationship, you are left with two
half persons. This may be true in general, but it
certainly doesn't hold true for Hedwig, who unites her
two selves in a way which denotes completeness rather
than halfness.
For those of you who don't know yet (there can't be
many; this story was new about a year ago), "Hedwig
and the Angry Inch" is about a rock star who spends
half her life looking for the "other half" that will
complement her, only to find it in herself. The twist
is that Hedwig is a transsexual who has to come to
terms with both her male and her female sides before
becoming "whole." And while that isn't quite the love
story one expects when Hedwig sings her song about
"The Origin of Love" (about the ancient Greek notion
that people were once physically separated from their
complementary halves, whom they spend the rest of
their lives searching), it is in its own melodramatic
way more poignant than any of the other relationships
hinted at in the film could have been.
In short, "Hedwig" is about self-acceptance. This is
true, but it's hardly the first thing that strikes one
when watching the film. It is first and foremost a
rock opera, with songs reminiscent of Bowie and T-Rex
in their heyday, and an art direction which is every
bit as exuberant as that of "Moulin Rouge," albeit a
lot gaudier. "Hedwig" isn't sophisticated, but there
is something poetic about its campness - the poetry of
gummi bears, trailer parks and Farrah Fawcett wigs,
and then some. It's as raw as Hedwig is bitchy, and as
profound as Hedwig's "brilliant lecture on the
influence of German philosophy on rock 'n' roll,"
entitled "You Kant Always Get What You Want." Which
ends, of course, in Hedwig's getting not what she
wants but what she needs, which is exactly what she
needs.
Personally, I liked "Hedwig" a lot. I loved Stephen
Trask's songs (most of them, anyway) and the pathetic
quality with which John Cameron Mitchell managed to
infuse his otherwise bitchy heroine. I was also
impressed with the symbolic way in which Hedwig puts
her all into the creation of Tommy Gnosis
("knowledge"), is then forsaken by both Tommy and
wisdom, only to find both back in herself. And I
positively loved the way Tommy and Hedwig do not just
kiss, but actually breathe through each other's
mouths, resulting in the sort of erotic symbiosis
which Hedwig will find hard to reproduce once she has
found Tommy within herself. But (there's always a
but), I did get the impression that something was
missing. Although I loved "Hedwig" while I was
watching it, I never thought about it again until I
began this "review." Nor do any of the songs linger in
my head, although I can with a bit of effort retrieve
the gist and lyrics of most of them. This wouldn't be
such a bad thing if I hadn't recently had the
experience of the different-but-similar "Moulin
Rouge," which HAS made a lasting impression on my
memory, and parts of which ("How wonderful life
is...") I simply can't get out of my system, even
though it has been months since I last saw the film. I
was hoping that "Hedwig" would be a similarly lasting
experience, but somehow it wasn't; which, in my humble
and admittedly rather belated opinion, makes it a good
film but not a brilliant one.MISCHKA (Jean-Francois Stevenin, 2002)
The closing film of a festival is supposed to be a
highlight. Something which reflects the main tenets of
the festival and finishes it off with a bang.
Unfortunately, Jean-Francois Stevenin's "Mischka" (of
which Rotterdam got the world premiere) did neither of
these things. A comedy-cum-road movie which fails to
get funny or poignant, it is not only utterly
uninvolving, but so annoying that I couldn't be
bothered to stay for the denouement and left in time
to catch the last train home. Judging from stories I
heard afterwards, I made the right decision.
"Mischka" is about an old widower (played by Jean-Paul
Roussillon) who is neglected by his family, hooks up
with some strangers and finds they are better company
than his real family. As for how all this comes to
pass, well, it is basically "Pane e tulipani" (Bread
and Tulips) all over again: an old man and his family
are on their way to a campsite, the old man goes to
the loo, his family drives off without him, and by the
time they discover that they have left him behind, he
has already gone off with someone else. This could
have resulted in an interesting road movie, but
unfortunately for the viewer, the person with whom the
old man hooks up is Gegene (played by the director
himself), an idiot who not only insists on calling him
"Mischka" (because the old man reminds him of the
little grey bear of that name who was the mascot of
the 1980 Moscow Olympics) but also wishes him to
pretend he is his father (don't ask - you don't want
to know). Rather than drop Mischka off at the campsite
where his family are waiting for him, Gegene takes him
to a village where he hopes to find his teenage
daughter, whom he has not seen for many years. They do
not find the daughter, but they do bump into a teenage
girl and her little brother who have run away from
home because they hate their mother and want to live
with their father, plus an unhappily married gypsy
woman who later turns out to be a rock star. After a
whole lot of mistaken identities (ha, ha - not!),
these disappointed people hook up together - to learn,
it seems, that if one's family situation isn't
satisfactory, one can in fact assemble a surrogate
family, as long as one is open-minded enough for the
experience.
The problems here are numerous. On top of the jokes
being unfunny and the cinematography being the most
dizzying thing I have seen since my 5-year-old cousin
first got hold of a handicam, there is the fact that
several of the characters are annoying and that the
fellowship of which so much is made is an extremely
unlikely one. One could buy the kids' and the gypsy's
staying with "Mischka" and Gegene if they were warm
and loving characters, but the opposite is true;
Mischka, far from the huggable teddy bear which the
others' fuss about him would have you believe he is,
is a bitter old git who seems demented for most of the
film but comes up with enough sensible remarks to rule
out the possibility that he actually is, while Gegene
(the director himself, in a part he probably would
have deleted if he could have seen how truly annoying
it is) is so hyper, so irritating, that he is
downright unbearable. It is impossible to see why
these two inspire the devotion in the others that they
do, which makes the bond that grows between them
improbable, and the film as a whole an unbelievable
experience.
Stevenin (a former assistant to Truffaut and an
experienced actor in his own right) claims that the
idea for "Mischka" was born during his travels through
France, and that the landscapes he saw on the way
became characters in the film. All I can say is that
if these blurry images of the French countryside are
Stevenin's idea of landscape as a character in a film,
he should take a long, hard look at "Whispering
Sands," which pulls the same trick about a hundred
times better, and in a far less annoying way.
ROTTERDAM STATS
By some strange coincidence, the first film I saw at
this year's festival turned out to be the best, while
the official closing film was amongst the worst.
However, this is not to say that the festival declined
between the beginning and the ending, for the final
days harboured some pleasant surprises - particularly
"Whispering Sands" and "The Hidden Half," both of
which are reviewed above.
As I already mentioned when I reviewed the film in my
Day 6 report, the Audience Award went to Danis
Tanovic' "No Man's Land," which led the standings from
the moment it was first shown and never looked back.
Runners-up were "Atanarjuat, the Fast Runner"
(reviewed in my Day 8 report) and Eugenie Jansen's
"Tussenland" (Sleeping Rough), which also became the
first home-grown product to take a Tiger Award. The
other two Tiger Awards (for most promising debut or
second feature film) went to Sinisa Dragin's "Every
Day God Kisses Us on the Mouth" (reviewed above) and
Bohdan Slama's "Wild Bees," a Czech film I
unfortunately missed. Finally, the FIPRESCI prize of
European film journalists was awarded to Sven
Taddicken's "Mein Bruder der Vampir" (My Brother the
Vampire, or Getting My Brother Laid), which I reviewed
in my Day 1 report.
Interestingly, the traditionally successful Asian
contingent failed to take a single award this year;
the first time this happened, apparently, since
Rotterdam began awarding prizes. The only Asian film
which came close to winning a prize was Korean
break-up drama "One Fine Spring Day" (reviewed in my
Day 3 report), which was runner-up in the Youth Jury's
standings. The Youth Jury's top award, meanwhile, went
to Catherine Breillat's "Fat Girl," which I reviewed
in my Day 7 report. THE TOP-10 AS VOTED BY THE ROTTERDAM AUDIENCE:
(1) No Man's Land
(2) Atanarjuat, the Fast Runner
(3) Tussenland (Sleeping Rough)
(4) Samsara
(5) The Hidden Half
(6) Il mio viaggio in Italia (My Journey in Italy)
(7) Scratch
(8) Lucia y el sexo (Sex and Lucia)
(9) The Navigators
(10) TapeMY OWN TOP-10:
(1) "Flower Island": Poetic, compelling and intensely
emotional, this is, as far as I am concerned, the one
genuine masterpiece shown at the festival. I doubt it
will be distributed outside the festival circuit, but
if you are lucky enough to find yourself in its
vicinity, don't miss it. And be sure to let me know
what the aria is that Yoojin sings at the beginning,
for it positively HAUNTS me.
(2) "Avalon": If this is pseudo-existentialist crap,
I'll have more of it, please.
(3) "No Man's Land": Absurd fun with a hard-hitting
message.
(4) "Address Unknown": Or, how an utterly depressing
downward spiral can amount to great art.
(5) "Whispering Sands": Lyrical poetry from a country
which is still in its cinematic infancy. Very, very
impressive.
(6) "The Hidden Half": Love and revolution in the most
accessible Iranian film I have seen. One to cherish.
(7) "Va savoir": Pretentieux? Oui. But ever so
entertaining.
(8) "Fat Girl": French drama about sex and sibling
rivalry, with a thoroughly thought-provoking ending.
(9) "Suicide Club": The most wicked fun of the
festival. If the ending had been more consistent with
the rest of the film, this would have been an instant
classic.
(10) "Pulse": Fascinating horror from the Japanese
master of suspense, Kiyoshi Kurosawa.
Well, this concludes my Rotterdam coverage for this
year. I may be back next year, but first I'm going to
take a long and deserved break from films - for at
least a week, anyway.
All the best,
Elaine
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+ Expand All
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Chances are, Amelie will win the award for best Foreign Film, but No Man's Land, which was the winner of this fest, is a great film (as is Amelie) and for me deserves to take home the award. The last moment of the movie is brilliant, and an example of superior filmmaking. If you are bothered by subtitles, don't sweat it the 2n half is mostly in English.
-
I preface my comments with this statement: I love Hedwig and the Angry Inch.
I think it's unfair to compare an original work like Hedwig to Moulin Rouge (though comparisons are inevitable), particularly when comparing the memorable quality of lyrics.
The central conceit of Moulin Rouge (which I also enjoyed) is that Luhrman has taken songs you already know, with emotions you've already assigned to them, and placed them in a scenario that either 1) matches the scenario you've created in your mind; or 2) contradicts it. Claiming that "How wonderful life is..." is a memorable lyrical moment from Moulin Rouge may be correct. But it's been a memorable lyrical moment on the radio for about 25 years.
The beauty of Hedwig (which I saw four times on stage) was that the story compels you to listen to the lyrics, and invites further inspection.
I'm quite positive that you'd be more inclined to remember the events surrounding "And there's no mystical design, no cosmic lover preassigned" more clearly if you'd been hearing it on soft rock stations since infancy.
So while I understand your criticism, I think it slightly unfair. I think you should give Hedwig another viewing, and be thrilled that the movie musical had such a renaissance in 2001. -
Hedwig ROCKS!!! Moulin Rouge, is a camp musical hybrid that allows itself originality only in the fact that its a cultural and musical collage, with little or no original music or premise. I know it has its audience, but its not a musical, its a construction akin to a superbowl commercial trying to please you by putting all your favorite thing together in one package that is so totally ridiculous and campy that you say "Hey, its fantastic like a carnival or a roller coaster!! I love it!!!! For me, Moulin Rouge didn't have any favorite things, except a Misplaced member of Trainspotting, muddling around in what is essentially an eighties cover medley set on Can-Can night at Studio 54. Things that entertain and things that profoundly move us are not always in the same package. Any well crafted film can entertain and thrill, but a truly original film can take us somewhere personal and new. Ten years later, that film will be just as good, the roller coaster will have to be faster and scarier, to still thrill. Betya we remember Hedwig longer.
-
Feb 13, 2002 9:47:03 PM CST
Bah. Hedwig reveals Moulin Rogue for the Hollywood tripe that it
by lizzybeth
And the songs are far, far better.
-
It's not a real 'aria.' It's the second movement of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2.
http://www.film2.co.kr/theater/trailers/M0000479.asx
http://rachmaninov.yedong.com/music/Piano_concerto/rach-pc-2-2.asf -
Rachmaninov, eh? I thought it sounded familiar. I just didn't recognise the lyrics. No wonder...
-
Sorry... Indonesian cinema is not
in its infancy !! We've 50 + years
of history ! Nevertheless, thanks
for the praise... I also felt the
movie is atmosphere over plot.
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