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Tropical Malady |
Apichatpong Weerasethakul
France/Thailand/Italy/Germany
2004 | | |
| The day begins with what will almost certainly be a
highlight of the festival, Apichatpong Weerasethakul's Tropical Malady. As I
mentioned in "Day Zero," I saw Weerasethakul's
Blissfully Yours earlier this summer and loved it, so I had high hopes
for this one, and it does not disappoint. The film is broken up into two
stories, though the fact that both stories feature the same actors is only
one of the many aspects they share. The first half is a compelling portrait
of a friendship turned relationship between two young men. One is a soldier
whom we meet in the film's first scene, the other pretends to be a soldier in
order to find a job. This languorous first hour is striking in how it builds
these two characters, as we meet other friends and family as well as see them
alone together. A scene at a temple highlights the issue of greed as a woman
tells an old legend about rocks that turn into gold and silver.
The second section builds from another folk tale, that of a shaman
trapped in the body of a tiger who plays tricks on travelers and villagers.
The actor who plays the soldier in the first part is a soldier again, though
it's not quite clear if he's supposed to be the same character. He's alone in
the jungle when he chances upon the "beast" (played by the other actor). Now
instead of being friends and lovers, the two are hunter and prey, though
which one is which changes repeatedly. Weerasethakul's sound design in the
jungle is brilliant, creating a feeling of hypnotic isolation, and his
nighttime cinematography is striking.
I was reminded of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, and was
interested in the contrast between the two representations of the jungle as
the "heart of man." Tropical Malady begins with the quotation: "All
of us are by our natures wild beasts who must keep our natures in check."
Conrad's story sees the jungle river as serpentine but one that inexorably
leads to the heart of who we are. Weerasethakul's vision is quite different,
as the sense of place has no direction, no way to get in or out; you're just
there, waiting for the beast with your ineffective gun in your hand.
Furthermore, while the end of Conrad's journey is "the horror," Weerasethakul
foresees a different encounter. There's a breathtaking shot of the tiger
standing in a tree hovering over the soldier as he kneels on the ground. I
won't give away the ending, but it is both powerful and enigmatic. Four 1/2
stars, out of five. |
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Clean |
Olivier Assayas
France/United Kingdom/Canada
2004 | | |
| I rushed out of the morning's screening and caught a
cab down to the Ryerson theatre for the screening of Olivier Assayas's
Clean. I had high hopes for this one as well, seeing as it stars
Maggie Cheung, who won the Best Actress prize at Cannes. But Clean doesn't
live up to the hype. It's a fairly conventional story about a junkie musician
whose junkie musician husband overdoses. Ostracized by his friends (who blame
her), she also has lost custody of her only child to his grandfather (Nick
Nolte). He agrees to allow her back into her son's life but only after she
cleans herself up.
Assayas has a sharp eye for images but a dull ear for dialogue. He avoids
many of the cliches of the genre (no strung out Maggie Cheung, for example)
and even offers an interesting justification for heroin use. But much of the
rest of the script is generic, never rising above the level of standard-issue
woman-seeking-redemption stuff. The child is poorly cast, and there's even a
scene where he gets lost at the zoo, for Pete's sake. Someone should tell
Olivier that that's been done to death. On the other hand, Nick Nolte
continues to grow on me; this is another rich, fascinating performance. But I
can't say the same for Cheung's; the Cannes jury must've seen something I
missed. And Assayas's striking use of architecture early in the movie turns
out to be nothing but pretty pictures, with no inherent relationship to the
rest of the film. Oh well, they can't all be great. Two 1/2,
out of five. |
Done by 2 p.m., I had a couple hours until I was meeting friends for an early
dinner. So I strolled down Queen Street West, which is a lovely urban street,
filled with parks and great architecture. Dinner was at the Queen Mother
Cafe, where I met up with two friends I had only known on the Internet:
Girish and Rob. It's always great to put names with faces, and we enjoyed
comparing notes on our favorite directors and national cinemas.
Then it was off to the Paramount theater for Nobody Knows. Many
TIFFers have sniffed about the addition of the Paramount, complaining about
its "sensory overload" lobby. But they shouldn't complain about the theaters
themselves, which have incredibly comfortable seating, perfect sightlines,
bright screens, and a great sound. I can put up with a garish entrance if the
movie experience itself is going to be that good.
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| Nobody Knows, from Japanese director Hirokazu
Kore-eda, is a strong addition to the children-on-their-own genre. Inspired
by a true story, it focuses on a family of four children whose mother is as
immature as they are. The three youngest children are forbidden to leave the
home, even for school, since their apartment doesn't allow young children,
and the mother doesn't want anyone to see them. Even the oldest, a
12-year-old boy named Akira, doesn't go to school but instead takes care of
the others. The mother leaves for weeks at a time, ostensibly for work
reasons but really to be with various men she dreams of marrying. When she
finally leaves for good, Akira and the children have to take care of
themselves once and for all.
Though the story is outlandish on the surface, Kore-eda's direction is
wonderfully natural, focusing especially on Akira as he goes out to do the
shopping, gazes wistfully at the other children, and manages the household.
Kore-eda is fond of close-ups, and he uses these to nice effect, especially
when he focuses on a child's feet. It's amazing how much you can learn about
characters from how they walk and sit and stand. When the oldest daughter
steps on her tiptoes so she can catch a glimpse of the outdoors, her feet say
everything we need to know.
My friend Rob was disappointed with the film, as he kept waiting for the
other shoe to drop, for tragedy to befall this little family. And while it's
true that there's suffering before the movie ends, I was surprised at how
hopeful it was and what a beautiful portrait it is of siblings struggling
together. The non-professional actors are all strong, especially Yuya Yagira
as Akira, who won the Best Actor prize at Cannes. The eldest daughter (I
don't know the name of the actress, I'm sorry to say) is equally fine,
expressing so much with her eyes and hands. I'm still chewing on the film,
trying to figure out if it's more than just a lovely story. But if nothing
else, it's that and well worth seeing when it comes around. Four stars, out
of five. |
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| The final film of the evening was My
Summer of Love, from director Pawel Pawlikowski (Last Resort), and it
wasn't the way I wanted Day Two to end. It's a conventional coming-of-age
tale, this time with the added spice of lesbian sex, though those going just
for that reason will be disappointed with the rather tame displays. Mona is a
young woman who lives with her brother (as with so many festival movies about
children, the parents are dead or gone). He's become "born again" after a
spell in prison, but Mona has no interest in his growing faith. Instead she
travels around lugging her motorless mo-ped. One day she meets the alluring
Tasmin, whose parents are filthy rich but also largely absent. Coming from
such different circumstances, the two find each other exotic, and soon
they're pal-ing around the English countryside and discussing Nietschze and
clothes.
The performances are good, with both young women projecting that perfect
adolescent combination of insecurity and arrogance. But after a while they
grew tiresome with their self-absorption, and I say this as someone who
really likes teenagers and has worked with them for over fifteen years.
Furthermore, while brother Phil is initially portrayed as a genuine believer,
by the end of the movie he's been exposed as a fraud (Tasmin seduces him, of
course). And then there's the inevitable breakup between the girls (we know
from the title that things aren't lasting long once summer ends). All of this
is way too banal and cliched, as is the final shot of Mona striding
confidently into the sunset. I suspect we're supposed to feel some sort of
triumph in all this — she's matured and apparently become her own person--but
it struck me as hollow and naive. Two stars, out of five.
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Oh, well. There's still Day Three to come, which will provide not only a
highlight of the fest but maybe the best film of the year!
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