Hey folks, Harry here... I know that Sundance has worn you with festival reviews. I know how agonizing it is to see review after review of films you'll likely never see in a theater near you. I saw in the Talk Backs to my Top Ten of 2002 - that many were upset at my choosing of several films that didn't get distribution in the United States... Well, let me give you a bit of my personal philosophy of film. Each year, I hear people bitch and moan about how "what a rotten year" of film it is, but you know what... That's what happens if you tie yourself to just what plays in your city. Every year, there are GREAT films being made in markets far more open to free-expression and creativity than the "All for a Buck" mentality of the American Studio and Distribution system. You find these films in these festival coverages. What good does that do you? Well, take Rotterdam and the following wonderful report from Elaine. She talks about several films that, most likely, will never get to the United States. SECRET THINGS sounds absolutely wondrous, but being erotic in nature, it is most likely totally screwed in terms of a theater near you. HOWEVER, if you read, you will learn the titles and the quality. GET an ALL REGION DVD PLAYER - then scour the foreign DVD sales sites searching for these titles. Order them the second they appear, and I guaran-fucking-tee you, that your year will not suck. ROTTERDAM is one of the greatest film festivals in the world, most important in the foreign films that debut and show there. Right now, I'm making my HUNTING LIST, and Elaine is my wonderful guide. Here she is with some of the best writing you'll find on AICN...
THE ROTTERDAM INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL
And so it has begun. Another edition of the Rotterdam International Film Festival (IFFR) - the 32rd, they say. Without big stars, as usual, but with plenty of directors on hand to answer questions, and, of course, plenty of films, ranging from very short to unbearably long, and from pretty regular to very experimental indeed. As usual, there are quite a few world, international and European premieres. As usual, there are also a few glaring omissions.
I am seriously frustrated with the IFFR this year, and the reason is that Zhang Yimou's "Hero" isn't here. This may not mean much to you, but to me, it means everything. Want me to prove it? Well, here goes. I flew to Toronto last August to catch "Hero" at the TIFF, only to find out it wasn't actually screened there when the programme was finally announced after my arrival. I then spent the next two months in China in hopes of catching it there, but to no avail. And now Rotterdam is letting me down, too. I should have seen it coming (Zhang usually grants the European premieres of his films to Berlin), but I'm still disappointed.
(Oh, well; at least I made the most of my time in China by going on a Chinese film pilgrimage. Not only did I visit the places where Ang Lee shot the bamboo-top fight between Zhang Ziyi and Chow Yun-Fat, Chow Yun-Fat's flight over the water and Zhang Ziyi's dive into nothing in "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," but I also went to the places where Zhang Yimou shot "Ju Dou" and "Raise the Red Lantern" AND the studio where he filmed "Red Sorghum" and "The Story of Qiu Ju." Hell, I even had tea in the room where Zhang Ziyi and Michelle Yeoh had their cat fight in "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon." Beat that, you Chinese film lovers, you.)
"Hero" is not the only conspicuous no-show, though. Patrice Leconte's "L'homme du train" isn't here, either. That's OK, really, as I've seen it and it will probably find its way into Dutch arthouses anyway, but it does make me wonder. So does the conspicuous absence of Im Kwontaek's "Chihwaseon" and Kim Kiduk's "Bad Guy." I caught both of these in Toronto, so I'm not lamenting a personal loss; I'm just wondering why these films don't show at the traditionally pro-Korean IFFR. I mean, it's not as if Im and Kim's previous efforts didn't draw in the crowds...
Which brings me to Jang Sunwoo's "Resurrection of the Little Match Girl," also from South-Korea. Billed as a techno-Taoist version of the match-girl fairytale (and the most expensive Korean film ever to boot), this was one of the few films in the festival to which I was REALLY looking forward. However, less than a week before the festival began, it was withdrawn. Why? I have no idea. I suppose it had something to do with either Sundance or the Berlinale, both of which partly overlap the IFFR. I'm guessing Berlin seemed a more appropriate place for an international premiere. Unfortunately, many Asian directors feel that way.
(Note to IFFR director Simon Field: Consider postponing your festival a few weeks. I know the IFFR traditionally takes place in the last week of January and the first week of February, but it might be more opportune to hold it just after the Berlinale. Please. Do take it into consideration.)
Oops. I'm getting bitter now, and the IFFR doesn't deserve that. Not in the slightest. Because for every high-profile premiere that eludes Rotterdam, it gets another one that is just as interesting, if not actually more so. Such as Josef Fares' hilarious "Kopps" or Petr Zelenka's only slightly less absurd "The Year of the Devil," both of which I have by now had the honour of watching. And it's not as if Rotterdam ever set out to be a red-carpet affair in the first place. When the festival was established back in the hippie era, it was agreed that awards were elitist and that the only way to keep the film-watching experience "pure" was to stay away from competitions. When the IFFR finally called into life an award of its own (the Tiger Award) in 1995, its policy was not to award the best film in the festival, but rather the best debut or second feature-length film. By focusing on newcomers rather than established names, the IFFR has gained the reputation of being a stepping stone for ambitious young directors, as well as a hunting ground for distributors in need of new projects. Some of the first-time film-makers singled out for praise in Rotterdam have since gone on to bigger things - notably Christopher Nolan, whose first feature, "Following," was among the early Tiger Award winners. A more recent Rotterdam discovery was Lou Ye, whose acclaimed "Suzhou River" not only won a Tiger Award, but was produced with Rotterdam money.
So yeah, I could be bitter about Sundance and Berlin getting the big premieres, but that would be unfair. After all, Rotterdam really is an amazing lot of fun - on a par with Toronto, and somewhat more relaxed for there not being any major stars around. So here's to the IFFR, a fine festival if ever there was one. Here's to the many directors who bother to come and discuss their films, even if their stars don't. Here's to this year's featured film-makers, Jean-Claude Brisseau, Girish Kasaravalli and Guy Maddin. And here's to ten days of dazzling, vertigo-inducing film-watching experiences and funny Q&As, not to mention heated debates about which film should get which award.
Cheers.
(Oh, and as for my Korean readers - consider yourself invited to share your views on "Resurrection of the Little Match Girl." I know I don't own this site, but I'm sure Harry will want to hear about it, too. It sounds like his kind of film.)
....................................................
DAY 1
Well, what a way to start the festival. I missed the opening film (Todd Haynes' "Far from Heaven"), but what I saw on the first "regular" day of the festival blew me away. And you know what? I'm not even going to review the best film of the day, because it is so ancient that most of you will have seen it by now. Almost a year after its British premiere, Michael Winterbottom's "24-Hour Party People" finally made its way to Holland, and boy, was it worth the wait. A hilariously postmodern treatise on the Manchester music scene from the Sex Pistols' first gig to the falling-apart of the Happy Mondays, "24-Hour Party People" has to be seen to be believed - if not for Steve Coogan's deliciously delirious rants, then for the chance to see what Andy Serkis looks like when he is not playing Gollum. A hint: he's the hairiest character in the film.
Other good things I saw today: Lynne Ramsay's "Morvern Callar" and Nicolas Philibert's "Etre et avoir." And last but not least, Jean-Claude Brisseau's "Choses secretes," which was voted the best film of 2002 by "Les cahiers du cinema," and for good reason. We're talking hot, steamy sex here, filmed the way only an intellectual French voyeur can film hot, steamy sex.
Ahem. On with the films.
....................................................
MORVERN CALLAR
(Written and directed by Lynne Ramsay, Scotland; based on the novel by Alan Warner)
A young woman, lying on the living-room floor, wakes from what appears to be a drunken stupour. In the glaring light of a Christmas tree, she reaches out for the man lying next to her and strokes his arm. He doesn't react to her caresses. Undaunted, she gets up and reads a message left for her in the computer sitting just a few feet away. "Dear Morvern," it reads. "Don't try to understand. It seemed the best thing to do." It's a farewell note from her boyfriend, who is lying on the floor with his wrists slashed. Morvern doesn't cry; she just takes a bath and prepares for a night on the town, leaving her dead boyfriend uncovered on the floor.
Thus begins "Morvern Callar," Lynne Ramsay's follow-up to "Ratcatcher," and the matter-of-fact tone of the opening is maintained throughout the film. Morvern doesn't get emotional over her boyfriend's death; nor does she attempt in any way to explain his suicide. She takes it for granted, just like she takes for granted that she can get away with her next, rather unethical actions: sending the manuscript on which her boyfriend worked for ages to a publisher under her own name, and using the money he left for his funeral to book a holiday in Spain for herself and her pill-popping friend Lana.
So much for a nice, easy-to-sympathise-with heroine.
As a matter of fact, Morvern Callar does eventually grow on the viewer, and it is due to Samantha Morton's superbly layered performance that she does. The various dazed and vulnerable expressions Morton wears throughout the film turn what could have been an unlikeable, selfish protagonist into a heroine we actually care for. For Morvern isn't the callous bitch she seems at first; she is just a little girl lost in a world that offers little worth living for, and what is more, she is in a terrible shock. She needs the pills, booze and one-night stands with similarly deprived holiday-makers to affirm that she, at least, is alive, even if she doesn't look it. And if you can't express your pain in words (Morvern barely speaks), sex 'n' drugs 'n' rock 'n' roll will help you do it physically.
"Expression" is the keyword here. If "Morvern Callar" has a message, it is probably that different people express their feelings in different ways. Some shout their grief over the rooftops; others, like Morvern, turn it inwards, and it takes a great artist to bring it out. Morton is that artist. So is Ramsay, who again delivers the visual poetry that made "Ratcatcher" so memorable. As in her debut, the Scottish director captures her characters' emotions in unusually original and expressive images - shot from angles only a professional photographer could dream up. Ramsay WAS a professional photographer before she became a film-maker, and although she doesn't shoot her own films, her background in photography shows in the artsiness of her compositions. It is interesting, then, that Ramsay herself denies the importance of her photographic background, insisting that what she does in her films is more akin to composing a piece of music than to taking photos.
The word "music" is significant here. For as much as Morton's facial expressions and Alwin Kuchler's intense cinematography do to convey Morvern's inner life, the clearest hint as to Morvern's state of mind is provided by the music she listens to. One of the last things her boyfriend does before he kills himself is to compile a tape for her, and the rest of the film frequently sees the heroine listening to this tape, which, in the absence of dialogues or a voice-over, goes a long way to express her feelings. Occasionally, the combination of dramatic lyrics, strong melodies and Morton's glistening eyes results in powerful moments. There is a goosebump-inducing scene where Morvern enters the supermarket in which she works while listening to "Some Velvet Morning" on her walkman, and the ending, which prominently features a song by the Mamas and the Papas, is downright mesmerising. It does much to give "Morvern Callar" the hypnotic quality that makes it such a lingering piece of cinema. For don't be fooled by the seeming coldness of the film; "Morvern Callar" gets under your skin, and if you leave it there to fester, it will haunt you for quite a while to come. All of a sudden, you will find yourself wondering what you would do in Morvern's position, and whether Morvern has a "real" story in her, rather than the purloined surrogate she sends to her publisher. For the story told in the movie is haunting, even if it is told with emotional detachment.
The harder it is to get into a film, the harder it is to shake it off. "Morvern Callar" proves that with a vengeance.
.....................................................
ETRE ET AVOIR (TO BE AND TO HAVE)
(Written and directed by Nicolas Philibert, France)
Tremendously successful in its country of origin, France, "Etre et avoir" (To Be and To Have) is a documentary that follows half a year in the life of an idealistic school master and thirteen of his pupils. The setting is an imposing-looking building in the middle of nowhere, which is quickly revealed to be the only primary school for many miles. Its only teacher is an elderly man; his pupils, most of whom come from outlying farms, range from toddlers to 11-year-olds. They are all seated in the same classroom and have to be kept working on their own stuff while the teacher explains the mysteries of the alphabet to the younger pupils. Like their counterparts in more densely populated parts of the world, the kids portrayed in the film have problems: low self-esteem, trouble with maths and big, bad bullies who make their lives very hard. The difficulty is that these kids are so few that they are forced to hang out with each other, which does little to alleviate their problems. In short, the teacher (who works hard to find a way to keep all his differently-aged pupils working at the same time) has his work cut out for him.
Little out of the ordinary happens in the first half hour of "Etre et avoir," and the viewer may wonder what it was that garnered it the European Film Award for best documentary. Then, however, the charm of the doc starts to get to you, and before you realise what is happening, you are drawn into the children's world. You find yourself laughing at some of the kids' antics, such as their very endearing inability to find out how the photo copier works. You find yourself wondering what could be wrong with the very pale little boy who can't concentrate on his work. You find yourself remembering the time when you yourself had trouble with maths, and got very upset with that one bully who always decided what was to be done next. And most of all, you find yourself admiring the teacher, who, despite the obvious difficulties of his task, manages to juggle all these differently-aged kids and their needs, and to remain humane at the same time.
"Etre et avoir" is an honest, recognisable film that moves precisely it because it is so scrupulously unsentimental. A document of what it is like to grow up and learn new things every day as well as an ode to a caring, idealistic teacher working under less-than-ideal circumstances, it deserves to be seen by everyone who has a child, or indeed everyone who ever was a child.
.....................................................
CHOSES SECRETES (SECRET THINGS)
(Written and directed by Jean-Claude Brisseau, France)
Less than a year ago, Brian de Palma got them talking in Cannes with an ambitious but flawed flick featuring, amongst other things, a woman using her sexuality to get what she wants and a sexy but highly unlikely lesbian love scene in a loo. Now Jean-Claude Brisseau comes along to show De Palma and his audience what the "Femme Fatale" could have looked like if it had been made by a man who actually understood women - a French intellectual who occasionally overdoes the philosophising but manages to deliver a thoroughly entertaining and (dare I say it?) arousing piece of work. The result was voted the best film of 2002 by the staff of "Les cahiers du cinema," and while I tend to take Cahiers' recommendations with a grain of salt (they also liked "Mischka," which I detested), I think they were on to something here.
"Choses secretes" is a powerful, glamorous and exciting film. It may be a bit too, well, French for most tastes, but if you can take a bit of bombast and aren't put off by grand-standing generalisations too much, you are in for a treat. The women are gorgeous, the sex is riveting, and there's a seminar on faking orgasms in there from which even Meg Ryan might learn a thing or two.
Take that, Brian de Palma.
"Choses secretes" is the story of Sandrine and Nathalie, two young women who use their physical assets to attain the lifestyle they feel they deserve. It is also a brutal (if glamorous) dissection of the society to which they belong. When the film opens, Nathalie (played with great intensity by Coralie Revel) is on stage, seducing men and women alike with a well-choreographed and well-filmed masturbation performance. She is observed from behind the bar by the angelic-looking Sandrine (Sabrina Seyvecou), a younger, more innocent girl who wishes that she, too, could be this uninhibited. Needless to say, Nathalie is only too willing to teach Sandrine how to let herself go, and once Sandrine has summoned the courage to masturbate in front of Nathalie, it is only a small step to other, more elaborate exhibitionist games, aimed both at amusing the girls themselves and driving the men around them crazy. Many of the games Nathalie devises have lesbian overtones, for as she patiently explains to Sandrine, real femmes fatales are either frigid or lesbians; it is their very unattainability which makes them desirable to men. Armed with this piece of information, the girls set out to become financially independent by making men drool. Their only, Nathalie says, is not to fall in love with their victims, for love will make them vulnerable. For a while, things unfold as planned; then, however, the girls are confronted with someone who is more manipulative than they are, and infinitely more dangerous to boot: their boss, Christophe (Fabrice Deville), who plays with lives the way Nathalie and Sandrine play with hearts and prides himself on obeying no laws. Several women are reported to have killed themselves over Christophe, but that does not prevent Sandrine and Nathalie from pitting their powers against him; on the contrary, it only makes them more eager to challenge him. What ensues is a dark, gripping analysis of power, arrogance and the seductiveness of evil, featuring (amongst many other things) a bizarre incestuous obsession, multiple suicide threats and orgies of the kind Stanley Kubrick must have had in mind while writing "Eyes Wide Shut." Naturally, there is also love, but it is the kind of love best depicted in "Dangerous Liaisons" - a fatal attraction to someone one quite simply shouldn't fall get involved with. Counterproductive love. Dangerous, too.
It is hard to pigeon-hole "Choses secretes." An erotic melodrama as well as an astute psychological portrait of female empowerment gone astray, it could be construed as a warning against overt female sexuality, but there is more to it than that. Like Catherine Breillat's films, which deal with similar subjects, "Choses secretes" isn't about sex per se, but rather about sex as a weapon, or as a means to manipulate others. What sets the film apart from Breillat's fairly sterile oeuvre, however, is the passion it exudes. Not only is "Choses secretes" genuinely erotic (something few Breillat films can claim), but its protagonists are actually likeable. Although Sandrine and Nathalie play selfish, ultimately dangerous games, they are honest and adventurous enough to hold the viewer's sympathy. They are also endlessly inventive, which goes a long way to keep the viewer interested in their exploits.
In a way, "Choses secretes" could be regarded as a manual of sorts, for so pointed are Brisseau's observations on attraction and seduction that they make you sit straight and ponder. There is quite a bit to ponder here. From the little nuggets of wisdom Nathalie spouts inbetween mutual masturbation exercises to the liberating discoveries Sandrine makes for herself, "Choses secretes" is a crash course in female sexuality and the way men react to it. Some of the lessons taught are fairly shocking (to the point where some men will come away from the film with their suspicion that all women are whores confirmed); others, on the other hand, are simply recognisable, and therefore entertaining. Either way, the film is enlightening, and should make pleasant study material for those (male or female) who feel that female sexuality is eluding them.
Well, if that doesn't sound like 90% of the AICN readership.
Lest I forget, "Choses secretes" is also a lot of fun. Although Coralie Revel's Nathalie is a deadly serious creature whose every line comes off sounding like an aphorism or a command, there is great humour in the way Sabrina Seyvecou plays Sandrine. So infectious is Seyvecou's charm that it is hard to suppress a smile when she fakes an orgasm in such an enthusiastic manner that she herself isn't sure whether it was real or fake, or when she goes around seducing men wearing nothing but a rain coat, flashing a smile that indicates that she herself is as surprised about her behaviour as the guys who guess her secret. Brisseau brilliantly captures the "Whoa-look-at-me!" expression on Seyvecou's face during these scenes, and it is these moments, rather than the exquisite sex scenes or the acute psychology, that make the film the gem that it is.
Is there a down side to all this? Sadly, there is, and it lies in the Frenchness of the thing. Like their counterparts in the host of pretentious explorations of female sexuality that has recently plagued French cinema and literature, the protagonists of "Choses secretes" take themselves awfully seriously, soliloquising on Life and Creation in a way which is meant to add to the grandeur of the film but only succeeds in making one groan. As if all that weren't bad enough, the film is marred by a bombastic analogy with Egyptian mythology, whereby Christophe and his sister take on Isis-and-Osiris-like dimensions. For the sake of grandeur, Brisseau even throws in an absurdly baroque falcon, although exactly what this symbol (the Egyptian god Horus?) adds to the story remains a mystery. It's a bold and striking gesture, certainly, but if you can't tell what it represents, its pretentiousness is only likely to make you smirk.
Obviously, these are minor gripes. For all its pretense, "Choses secretes" is a fascinating film - a worthy addition to the increasing stack of pseudo-philosophical sex dramas, and then some. Both visually and intellectually stimulating, it offers genuine insights into the art of seducing as well as elegant fun and intrigue. Last but not least, it also offers gorgeous women. If you're at all into saucy-looking Frenchwomen or lesbian love scenes featuring beautifully choreographed mutual masturbation, this is a must-see. If you're not particularly into French women but do enjoy films in which they strip for their boss behind an open door and then playfully deposit their panties into his in-tray, this one is for you, too. Hell, it's worth catching a screening just for the scene in which the girls take off their bras in a packed tube station. And not just for the brilliant acting, either.
Long live female empowerment, I suppose. Sort of.
Back soon with more,
Elaine
