Folks... Harry here.... let's hear a damn fine round of applause for the energizer bunny of festival goers... You probably have no idea how hard it is to do this type of tireless coverage... but it is. I mean, it isn't working in a coalmine sort of exhausting... but... it is as close to that as most of us ever want to come. Once again, Anton has done an exemplary job... enjoy and discover what it is to be thrown in the midst of the busiest film festival on the planet.
Day Three
It occurs to me that I haven’t been keeping you folks apprised one the Preludes before the films this year. I will correct this oversight right now, just as an excuse to rave about the best one of the bunch, conveniently by one of my favorite filmmakers in the world. The Preludes are a series of ten short 4- or 5- minute films by prominent Canadian filmmakers that in some way celebrate the Toronto Film Festival, now in its 25th year. Here’s what I’ve seen so far:
1) Congratulations by Mike Jones
Mike Jones is a member if the first family of Canadian comedy, the Joneses from Newfoundland. Cathy is a regular on the political satire show This Hour Has 22 Minutes. Andy has appeared in numerous films, TV shows and plays, including the late lamented sketch comedy series Codco. And Mike is a noted filmmaker. This Prelude depicts them back ‘ome on the farm, old and forgotten, as well as their triumphant ‘comeback’. As a spoof of both the Canadian star system and the relationship between the ‘Newfies’ and the rest of Canada, Congratulations is dry, wry and amusing to know.
2) A Word From the Management by Don McKellar
McKellar is a vet both in front of and behind the camera. His best-known work from an American perspective is probably as the guy with the Russian accent in eXistenZ, as well as the lead in Highway 61. A Word From the Management is a rant, pure and simple- a howl of frustration from the souls of those poor unfortunates who have to deal with the ‘patrons’, the great ungrateful mob of filmgoers that attend the fest year in, year out. A funny little flick with a punchline that hits just a little too close to home.
3) The Heart of the World by Guy Maddin
Guy Maddin is a frickin’ genius. His films- Twilight of the Ice Nymphs, Tales From the Gimli Hospital, Archangel- play out like demented fairy tales caught between the opposing poles of Peter Greenaway and Douglas Sirk. If any man alive can be said to channel the spirit of Charles Laughton the DIRECTOR it is Maddin. Heart of the World is an awesome achievement, one that has sometimes gotten louder applause than the films that followed it. In the space of one five minute silent film Maddin manages to include every single genre of film known to man. All of them. Horror, romance, political allegory, morality tale, sci-fi, disaster, etc, etc, etc, all find their way into the mix, along with the world’s shortest orgy. The film moves at breakneck speed, powered by an edit per second ratio that must have Floria Sigismondi (the Bowie/Marilyn Manson video director that did the People’s Choice Award spots this year) seething with envy. Just an amazing piece of work.
In other news, the Darren Aranofsky interview may be in jeopardy for reasons I won’t go into here in case they jinx it. Damn damn blast damn. I won’t let it get me down, though- today is Beat Day, where we celebrate the genius of the world champion bad-ass ‘Beat’ Takeshi Kitano. I get to see both his own Brother and his performance in Oshima’s Gohatto. O frabjus day! Caloo! Callay!
Turbulence (2000, directed by Ruy Guerra)
I hate this movie. This thing gave me a headache that’s lasted all day.
Allow me to explain: Turbulence is a Spanish film that tells the story of a man, the black sheep of an already pretty twisted family, and the gradual unraveling of his mind. His paranoia and inability to distinguish warped fantasy from grim reality are depicted on screen by shooting everything either out of focus, in extreme close-up or using NYPD Blue-ish shaky cam, or more often some combination of them. In small doses this would have been very effective, but it’s used the WHOLE DAMN MOVIE. Imagine a two hour Marilyn Manson video without the costumes or tunes and you’ve got some idea what I went through. Picture Geoffrey Rush in House on Haunted Hill, after he’s locked in that cyclotron thingie. That was me coming out of this film.
Ow. Mommy.
Gohatto (2000, directed by Nagisa Oshima)
This is Oshima’s (Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence, In the Realm of the Senses) first film in many years, and also apparently his last, as he is retiring following a stroke. It’s a shame, because Gohatto proves that the man still has it.
Set in the 1800s in Kyoto, the film follows the recruitment of two new samurai into the local militia. One of them, Kano, would be right at home in a glam band. He is as pretty as a man has a right to be, and his unusually long hair and ambiguous sexuality set strange thoughts loose in the heads of the other samurai. Even the most hardened, manly warriors fall prey to Kanu’s charms, up to and including the head man and his lieutenant.
That the lieutenant is played by world champion bad-ass ‘Beat’ Takeshi Kitano just adds to the fun. As the militia try to keep the peace rumors spread among them as to which of them ‘lean the other way’. Watching a group of strutting samurai gossip like schoolgirls and try to get into each other’s kimonos is definitely a new one on me. The whole thing plays out like an Akira Kurosawa-directed episode of Queer as Folk. But the film itself isn’t a joke. Oshima’s eye for light and image is impeccable (and contributes to the true theme of this year’s fest, superb cinematography), and the story takes on a near-mystical atmosphere near the end.
Kitano is of course amazing. He subdues his normal tough silent guy routine beneath a social structure even more formal and rigid than the yakuza milieu he normally works in, and he is never anything less than 100% believable doing it. It’s apparent now more than ever that Harvey Keitel is the Takeshi Kitano of America.
The only downer thing about this film is knowing that there won’t be any more coming from Oshima afterwards. I highly recommend seeing it- it’s a hell of a send-off.
Better Than Sex (2000, directed by Jonathan Teplitzky)
A film not just directed but also written by ad and video director Teplitzky, Better Than Sex is a nifty little date movie that never shoots the moon, instead being content to tell an interesting story. What a novel concept- visuals serving the story. What will those wacky video directors think of next?
The film’s premise is simple: what happens when you have a one night stand with someone you actually like in the morning? Cindy and Josh meet at a party and end up back at her place. Everything seems safe enough- Josh is flying back home to London in a few days, and neither one of them are looking for anything beyond that night. One night becomes the next day, though, and the next day becomes the next night, and before you know it he’s meeting her friends and they’re having a fight and everything is going horribly, horribly wrong. What happened to their meaningless evening of fun? And why, omniscient helpful taxicab driver notwithstanding, is it getting harder and harder to say good-bye?
Teplitzky’s background is apparent in the way he tells the story. The actors talk directly to the camera in little confessional pieces, their fantasies play out for us to see, and other odd tricks of the trade are used to serve some purpose other than hawking beer. He never lets the clever bits overwhelm the story or the actors, and given the track record of his breed this has to count as a major accomplishment. The two leads, Susie Porter and David Wenham, are likeable and attractive and above all real, not neurotic sitcom cut-outs. And they have lots of sex, which certainly counts for something.
All in all this is a pretty enjoyable way to spend a couple of hours, depending of course on who or what you have waiting for you back home.
Brother (2000, directed by Takeshi Kitano)
Kitano’s first American production, Brother is an excellent primer for Yank audiences. All the familiar Kitano elements- the motley but closely-knit group of gangsters, the languid shots along the beach, and above all of course brutal violence sitting side-by-side with sly humor and contemplative interludes.
The film follows Kitano, exiled from Japan after a yakuza power struggle, as he attempts to find his younger half-brother. Once he’s caught with him in L.A. the fun is just beginning- Kitano leads his brother and his ‘posse’, with includes Omar Epps, into taking over the local drug dealer’s turf and eventually becoming a player in L.A.’s underworld. They eventually get too big and too loud for the Mafia’s liking, and a war results that the group cannot possibly win. Faced with impossible choices, Kitano does what Kitano characters always do- the honorable thing. Not, of course, until everyone’s had their more than their fill of blood and gunplay.
As I said above Brother is an excellent starting point for an audience unfamiliar with Kitano’s earlier work. He covers very little new ground, although he does have fun with the clash of cultures between yakuza Japan and gangsta L.A. And Epps proves to be a surprisingly effective foil to Kitano’s whimsical bad-ass persona. Some of the little things that are normally top-notch in a Kitano film go soft here, though- Joe Hisaishi’s score, for instance, features an awful lot of bland easy listening jazz crap. Joe’s the best film composer in the business (go listen to Princess Mononoke and Kikujiro’s scores again before you start arguing with me) but even he’s allowed to have off days.
Don’t think for one instant that Brother is anything less than an immensely entertaining film, one that is far superior to other first time east/west hybrids like the Replacement Killers or Hard Target, but it’s not the masterpiece that Fireworks was either, just another solid entry in one of the best catalogues in the business.
Baise-moi (2000, directed by Virginie Despentes and Coralie Trinh Thi)
The French relationship with American culture is one the most fascinating sociological phenomena on the planet. To call it ‘love/hate’ hardly does it justice. Their contempt for what they see as hegemonization via the Hollywood pap machine knows no bounds, and yet EuroDisney is still in business and Sly Stallone receives one of their highest cultural honors. It is some ways very sad that a nation with the legacy of France must look west for Big Daddy’s approval.
Baise-moi (the title translates as ‘Rape Me’- ‘nuff said), adapted from Despentes’ own award-winning novel, attempts to examine the American influence on France by making a film hollowly aping American films. However, the principle style Despantes chooses for Baise-moi is not Hollywood schlock, but porn. Shot on video and featuring full penetration, cum shots and cheesy close-ups, the film tells the Thelma and Louise-ish story of two women, Manu and Nadine, on the run and engaged in a crime spree. The sex isn’t there to titillate, however. If anything, the opposite is true. Probably the most graphically depicted scene (conveniently located at the beginning of the film, if you want to flee) is not a sex act at all but a rape. Most of the time the two find men to have sex with just to pass the time between killings.
The attacks on American culture don’t stop there though. One of the funniest, and best, exchanges in the film involves Nadine and Manu discussing the futility of writing clever Arnie-esque lines in advance of their crimes. For all their strength when it comes to dealing with men the two leads are helpless in the grip of Hollywood. They unconsciously pattern their ‘new’ lives after what they’ve seen up on the screen, and when reality intrudes they are left floundering, with no real idea what to do next.
I don’t mean to give the impression this is a stupendous movie- there are some serious flaws. Casting actors from the porn industry results in some very uneven performances. Despentes also seemed to be juggling too many balls (ahem) here in adapting her own novel and directing for the first time. However, contrast that with a definitive star turn of Franke Potente proportions from Karen Bach as Nadine, and Despentes’ firm grasp of the messages she’s trying to convey (if not the medium she’s trying to convey them in), and what you have is a watchable film, if not a great one.
I wouldn’t hold your breath for a U.S. theatrical release, though. This baby makes Romance look like Age of Innocence, skin-wise.
