#miff 2015

[notfuckingbeige]

Just saw my last MIFF film, Alex Winter’s documentary “Deep Web”, on The Silk Road and the investigation and trial of Ross Ulbricht, one of its creators. Really interesting piece on the subject of privacy, how it relates to law, cyberspace (in particular the Dark Web, which I knew little about), and the war on drugs. Would def recommend a watch 👍

PS--Extra points for having 'Bill' direct and 'Ted' narrating this doco, lol...WYLD STALLIONS!! *air guitars*

[thelowdownunder]

MIFF: Dickie’s Review - The Assassin

MIFF: Dickie’s Review – The Assassin

Art house darling Hou Hsiao-Hsien tries his hand at a martial arts film and the result is exactly what you might expect – a sumptuous looking, glacially paced meditation with sudden jolts of violent swordplay. This isn’t likely to excite chopsocky fans but may please lovers of finely detailed period drama who don’t mind working hard to keep track of the narrative.

It’s 9th Century China and a…

View On WordPress

[thelowdownunder]

MIFF: Dickie’s Review - Racing Extinction

MIFF: Dickie’s Review – Racing Extinction

Former National Geographic photographer Louie Psihoyos has a brief but impressive history in documentary filmmaking. His debut, The Cove, won more awards than any other doco, including an Oscar. For an encore, he has broadened his ecological gaze to all endangered species. The result is unavoidably depressing, but crucially, Psihoyos offers alternatives to the monumental destruction being caused…

View On WordPress

[thelowdownunder]

MIFF: Stephen’s Review – The Russian Woodpecker

MIFF: Stephen’s Review – The Russian Woodpecker

Did Moscow Deliberately Destroy Chernobyl To Cover Up An Enormous Folly? That’s The Madcap Theory At The Heart Of This Darkly Humorous Alternative History.

Wrier/director Chad Gracia’s debut documentary and Sundance darling The Russian Woodpecker is a strange beast indeed. Weaving together current geo-political unrest over the Ukrainian border with Russia and a truly bonkers conspiracy theory…

View On WordPress

[thelowdownunder]

MIFF: Stephen’s Review – Stories I Want To Tell You In Person

MIFF: Stephen’s Review – Stories I Want To Tell You In Person

An Emotionally Honest And Humorously Engaging Madcap Lap Round The Creative Mind Of Playwright Lally Katz. Fabulous Fun.

Putting on a theatrical show in cinematic language doesn’t always work out, though recent gems have included French offerings Guillaume Gallienne’s Me, Myself and Mum (Les Garcons Et Guillaume, A Table!) and Roman Polanski’s Venus in Fur (La Vénus à la Fourrure).

Add to the…

View On WordPress

[akfilmblog]

MIFF 2015: Diary 2

At home I watched two documentaries which have been available via streaming since before the festival began — Red Army, a chronicle of the rise and fall of the USSR’s national hockey team, and The Wolfpack, which follows the isolated and escapist Angulo family of Manhattan’s Lower East Side. This was followed by a timely screening of Albert Maysles’ Iris, one of the documentary master’s final films.

The sports documentary has been dominated in recent years by ESPN’s 30 for 30 series, but a small and sometimes vocal group continue to see these films as “just TV”. Gabe Polsky, the director of Red Army, appears to be a member of this group; backed by producers Werner Herzog and Jerry Weintraub, Polsky adopts an “if they can do it, I can do it” attitude, underestimating the deft touch required in marrying sports with social commentary (something the format lends itself to). ESPN tackled this exact subject earlier this year in Jonathan Hock’s fantastic Of Miracles and Men, and despite the prestige of Red Army’s production, Polsky’s film cannot help but be seen in the shadow of Hock’s.

The story of the Soviet Union’s dominance of international ice hockey during the Cold War — and particularly the plight of team captain Slava Fetisov — is a fascinating one; perhaps Red Army would be able to coast on its subject matter if allowed to stand on its own. Instead we are given a unique example of great subject matter/poor execution. Red Army matches Of Miracles and Men almost beat for beat, and yet Polsky lacks nuance and respect towards both his subjects and the game itself; key moments are butchered in editing, while his questioning is intrusive (at times laughably so, as he dollies in during talking heads). “Gabe, it’s not a proper question,” Fetisov remarks in frustration at one point; later, the director will ask Fetisov’s wife, as she recounts a particularly stressful moment in her life when she felt unsafe in the Soviet Union, “What’s the worst they could do?” Skip Red Army, you’re better off catching this one on TV.

I was equally frustrated by Crystal Moselle’s The Wolfpack. The film attempts to explore the nature of escapism through the plight of the Angulo family. Isolated from society by an overbearing patriarch (like a real life, Manhattan-based Dogtooth), the brothers cope by reenacting their favourite films in their claustrophobic apartment. Met with overwhelming praise at its Sundance premiere, more lukewarm responders have since criticised Moselle for her inability to capitalise on the “remarkable opportunity” presented to her. What’s really troubling about The Wolfpack is that Moselle seems painfully aware of this, and as such the film reeks of desperation while pandering to its audience.

The Wolfpack wears its Maysles influence on its sleeve (Grey Gardens is referenced in the program listing). That film had very little narrative arc and no thrilling conclusion, and yet — in stark contrast to Moselle and The Wolfpack — this was never a concern for the Maysles. There is also a clear distinction between the Beales of Grey Gardens and the Angulos, with the latter being victims of abuse. But even their abuser, Oscar Angulo, is mistreated by the filmmakers; a Peruvian immigrant, Oscar is given subtitles despite his near-perfect English, and this hint of casual xenophobia continues throughout.

Every moment is exploitative — the final credits feature a short film made by one of the Angulo brothers, a potential moment of catharsis undercut by Moselle’s decision to edit the piece to feature her own footage as well. The film ends with a final thank you from the filmmakers, acknowledging the Angulo family’s participation, which only further betrays the filmmakers’ sense of guilt. Something of The Wolfpack is salvaged by its genuinely fascinating subjects, but their treatment does not go unnoticed.

After the lows of Red Army and The Wolfpack, it was a joy to see a master at work, even in a noticeably less ambitious role. It’s unclear if Iris is Albert Maysles’ final film — he collaborated on In Transit, which premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival earlier this year, and is said to have been at work on an autobiographical film at the time of his death, which may see a release in some form in the future. All this is to say that for the time being, Iris is being given “final film” status, and as such this otherwise minor work has naturally taken on greater meaning. A profile of the eccentric Manhattan fashion icon Iris Apfel (and her husband, Carl), Iris is a more traditional documentary from Maysles, a couple of steps removed from his direct cinema origins.

Despite leaning on talking heads and narrative beats at times without ever digging too deep into his subject, Maysles’ mastery of the documentary form can’t help but shine through; unlike Polsky, he is present but never imposing, and unlike Moselle, he is opportunistic but never desperate. Apfel herself is a captivating subject and a joy to watch, demanding the attention of all those around her (which makes a rare moment of vulnerability in which the 93-year-old flirts with Kanye West backstage at the CFDA Awards all the more delightful). Due to the age of the subjects (Carl celebrates his 100th birthday during the film), and the filmmaker himself, the topic of mortality is inevitable. But Iris is never morbid; in celebrating the life of a passionate innovator who has remained dedicated to her craft well into old age, Maysles inadvertently celebrates his own. Or maybe it just seems that way now.

—

Red Army, dir. Gabe Polsky — ★★ The Wolfpack, dir. Crystal Moselle — ★★½ Iris, dir. Albert Maysles — ★★★½

[thelowdownunder]

MIFF: Stephen’s Review – Tehran Taxi

MIFF: Stephen’s Review – Tehran Taxi

A Gentler, Subtler Critique Of The Iranian Government, Packed With Smart Humour. It’s Great To See Jafar Panahi Smiling.

When is a film not a film? Technically when it doesn’t have any credits, in order to protect its crew from the sort of persecution Iranian director Jafar Panahi is all too familiar. Having smuggled out This Is Not A Film and Closed Curtain while the government banned him from…

View On WordPress

[akfilmblog]

MIFF 2015: Diary 1

MIFF is my favourite time of year, the moment the Victorian cinematic year begins in earnest. This year’s festival features the usual, although slightly more conservative, spread; this is more reflective of 2015 in general than the festival programmers themselves. Regardless, the festival features high profile releases from Jafar Panahi, Hou Hsiao-hsien, Yorgos Lanthimos, Jia Zhangke, Gaspar Noé, Joshua Oppenheimer, Albert Maysles, Andrew Bujalski, James Ponsoldt, Abel Ferrara, Noah Baumbach, Lav Diaz, and Alex Ross Perry; the already heavily buzzed about Heaven Knows What, Phoenix, Dope, Tangerine, The Wolfpack, and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl; a stack of Australian premieres and seemingly more films Australia is currently in the process of catching up on (many of which have been available for streaming online since before the festival began).

The Opening Gala is at Hamer Hall, and the first I’ve ever attended. The venue is appropriately larger and more lavish than any other festival venue, and as such our balcony seats are the furthest I’ve ever been from a cinema screen. The program listing boasts “a memorable evening of cinema, celebrity and celebration,” though certainly not in that order; festival patron Geoffrey Rush’s speech appears to be the main event, and what feels like a good half of the audience file out consistently throughout the screening to make the most of the open bar. This is barely a criticism, as Paul Cox’s semi-autobiographical cancer melodrama Force of Destiny is affecting but rarely engaging. Following an artist’s battle with cancer as he awaits an organ transplant, the film traces Cox’s own experience with liver cancer and acts as an open plea for organ donation (Cox, who was a festival guest, urged all those in attendance to consider donation in his introductory speech, and the film ends with a postscript which does the same).

Force of Destiny is an extremely personal film with nothing but noble intentions. That alone is never enough, and there is very little to be praised about the film outside of its humanitarian plea. The cross-cultural love story becomes increasingly overwhelming as the film goes on, and while Cox manages to remain respectful throughout, his depiction of Indian culture verges on fetishism. It’s easy to be cynical about its inclusion on opening night, but difficult to be angry at a film this earnest, whose only real crime is an overwhelming blandness.

The first day of the festival proper is more encouraging, beginning with Daisies, a 1966 Czech New Wave farce in which two teenage girls decide that since the world's gone bad, they will too. The film’s formal experiments are delightful, with colour and especially sound, as is its overt feminism. The film is anarchic, and what little narrative there is revolves around the girls scamming older men. The film’s highlight is a less-than-subtle precursor to Nicki Minaj’s “Anaconda” video, in which the girls cut up phallic food items (a banana, a sausage) with oversized scissors as an admirer aggressively confesses his love over the phone. Daisies is irreverent and transgressive, happily inviting its famous banning.

Next is Phoenix, Christian Petzold’s post-Holocaust Vertigo homage. There’s a certain bravado necessary in tackling two of the biggest cultural touchstones of the 20th century, but Petzold proves to be more than capable. The film is dripping in Hitchcock’s masterpiece, which at first acts as something of a barrier; one which, once overcome, only serves to heighten its thrill. Nelly (Nina Hoss) and Johnny (Ronald Zehrfeld) do their most powerful acting with only their eyes, and Petzold, like Hitchcock, knows exactly how long a scene, and indeed the film itself, should last; Phoenix ends right at its climax, with one of the most powerful final scenes in recent memory.

My final film of the day is Yorgos Lanthimos’ English-language debut, The Lobster. The high-concept black comedy has a lot to say about the hypocrisy of modern romance, and all of it lives and dies by the strength of its humour. Carried by a cast featuring a shameless Colin Farrell in his best performance since In Bruges, along with Rachel Weisz, John C. Reilly, Ben Whishaw (who provides a particularly brilliant moment of physical comedy), Lea Seydoux, and a bevy of British comedy character actors, each of whom commits wholeheartedly to the film’s concept and deadpan humour. The Lobster is one of the funniest films I’ve ever seen at the festival, although when the humour slips away, as it does in its later scenes, something tends to be lost.

—

Force of Destiny, dir. Paul Cox — ★★ Daisies, dir. Vera Chytilová — ★★★★ Phoenix, dir. Christian Petzold — ★★★★½ The Lobster, dir. Yorgos Lanthimos — ★★★★