So I’ve survived in London long enough to make it to my second Film Festival and whilst the pressure of full time work during one of the busiest times of the year was exhausting, the draw of strange new films was too enticing. In the end I saw 4 films in about a week, which really didn’t help with my lack of sleep and general weariness, but I think it was definitely worth it. There were fewer knockout hits than I saw last year, but each of these films offered their own unique pleasures.
Rift (Erlingur Thoroddsen; Iceland; 2017)
The original title of my first viewing, an eerie, chilly and compelling film called Rökkur, roughly translates from Icelandic as ‘twilight’. But as the director joked at the Q&A afterwards, that name was already taken. I think that Rift is a much better title anyway, describing not only the underlying theme of the film about the distances that can grow between those in relationships, but also the vast landscape of caverns, plains and faultlines that play an important part of the story.
Several months after a break-up, Gunnar (Björn Stefánsson) receives a call in the middle of the night from ex-boyfriend Einar (Sigurður Þór Óskarsson), sounding distressed and paranoid. Worried, Gunnar drives up to the isolated cabin (the eponymous Rökkur) to check on him. Stuck together, the two are forced to confront the issues that drove them apart as painful memories resurface. All the while, strange things happen at night – mysterious banging on the door and ghostly presences in the lava fields around them.
I went in expecting a cryptic relationship drama, a literal ghosts of relationships past sort of film. And at its core it was. The depiction of the central relationship, from the younger and more unstable and romantic Einar to the more pragmatic but troubled Gunnar, is convincing and enthralling. The actors fully realise their characters and their chemistry and interactions feels genuine. Scenes of them simply talking, discussing their feelings, or reliving the past (at one point almost in a trance-like state) are among the film’s highlights and I feel they would have worked effectively on their own. And there’s no ignoring the harsh and wild beauty of the landscape around them and that too is used effectively, handsomely shot and making clever use of abandoned buildings interacting with the local geography.
It’s the tying of this story with the horror elements and much more beside that that complicates things. A lot of the tense moments are cliche, but effectively so. The shift in the second half to more outward horror territory is gripping, with one or two genuinely chilling moments which caught me off guard, particularly one scene involving GoPro camera footage. But the film tries to juggle too many strands at once and that causes it to lose focus and coherence. I imagine it was the director’s intention to make it unclear whether the threat is real or supernatural, to ramp up the uncanniness. But multiple themes and subplots keep being brought to the fore, and it gets a little frustrating when the film can’t decide which way to head beyond splitting in multiple directions. I respect his ambition in trying to cover so much, from depression to homophobia, self-destructive behaviour to childhood trauma, and the uniquely magical properties of this distinct landscape. It’s a shame it gets a little lost in its tussle between the real and the unreal, the outward and the inward, to the point where I don’t think the director himself really felt he could disentangle himself from the mire of ambiguity. I think this had the potential to be a truly great film, it just falls a little short. But that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it a lot, and have to admit it was the most unnerving film I had seen at the cinema for a while.
Mutafukaz (Shoujirou Nishimi, Guillaume ‘Run’ Renard; France/Japan; 2017)
Now this one looked fun. A French-Japanese anime, rooted in hip-hop music, the freneticism of Luc Besson and Wachowskis action films, the broad and brazen cultural stereotyping and casual violence of the GTA games, and the dense appropriation of graphic novels and comic book lore. Adapted from a French comic book series, the sheer weight of counterculture references and midnight movie thrills make this feel like a future cult classic, even if it does feel like it’s trying quite too hard to be a future cult classic. But that’s no faulting what is essentially fanboy servicing – a gleefully bombastic checklist of cheap thrills, skillfully presented to be devoured with maximum stoner cravings.
We follow Angelino, a loser pizza delivery boy crashing in a cockroach-infested squat of an apartment with his best friend and fellow down-and-outer Vinz. The fact that Angelino has a giant round black head and Vinz is a flaming skeleton just plays into the loose logic of this film. They survive in the sprawling Californian metropolis Dark Meat City, here rendered with a staggering ragged beauty, full of shitty diners, sun-drenched decay and graffiti-drenched ghettos. After Angelino cracks his cranium in a bike accident he begins to see strange visions of demon shadows. He tries to brush it off as a result of the crash, until the bulky men in black appear with even bulkier guns, determined to take him down.
What follows is a pretty loose, nonsensical escape adventure. We find out more about the mystery men and their plots, and this is a source of some cute jokes about their plans to change the world. But that’s not what really matters in this film – it’s all about the ride, not the destination. Like the best animes, this has a fierce eye for action and the keen focus on little details in the animation make this a hell of a good ride.
I enjoyed this a great deal whilst watching the action scenes. The rest is pure teenage boy fan-fic fantasy, including the lone female character in the entire film being no more than a foil for Angelino to be drawn to. And after leaving the screen, it hardly left much of an imprint on my mind to dwell on afterwards. But the buzz of energy this film offered was more than worth the cost of the ticket
Let the Corpses Tan (Hélène Cattet, Bruno Forzani; Belgium/France; 2017)
And so came my second night in a row of Gallic pulpy thrills. The title alone gives a pretty good idea of what to expect – this is a bold, brash, confrontational film. It’s also a complete riot and a feast for the senses. This is the film that Free Fire wishes it was. Not that that film was bad, but Corpses has so much more impact, is so much more taut, and has more outlandish thrills and distinct setpieces. It’s very much a case of more is more.
Set in the harsh sun of the Mediterranean coast, an artist (Elina Löwensohn) lives in an isolated villa, inviting guests happy to be away from wider society. It just happens that her latest visitors are a gang of robbers, hiding a heist of gold bullion in their car boot. Two cops make the mistake of getting involved before a ridiculously complex shootout for survival bursts alight.
At first, the entire thing feels like it is just going to be a blatant spaghetti western pastiche, apeing Sergio Leone’s distinct style – hip-level framing of stand-offs between characters; an excessive use of extreme close-ups on eyes and hands; bursts of scuzzy colour; a sparseness of landscape that positively drips with sweat. One character even has a necklace that plays like a music box.
It’s once the action setpieces kick in that the husband and wife directing duo really hit their stride. Everything is designed to overwhelm – gunshots burst with the sound of small explosions, and the constant creasing sounds of leather jackets and gloves give this an almost fetishistic level of obsessive detail. Playfully animated camera movements give even simple conversations an ridiculous degree of animation.
Subtle it ain’t. I think your level of enjoyment with this film will depend on how patient you are willing to be with their excessive obsessions and the complete lack of anything resembling a plot or character development. It’s the directors gleefully fucking around with your sensibilities with their wonderfully crafted piece of exploitation. Sound and vision is central – the sheer level of rough sheen granted to shots of ashes billowing gracefully from a burning car, or the impact of the explosion of bloody matter from a skull tells you everything you need to know about where this film’s interests lie. I really enjoyed it – frankly just thinking about it now is making me want to see it again. I’m so glad I got to see it on a big screen.
Ex Libris – The New York Public Library (Frederick Wiseman; USA; 2017)
So what comes to mind when I tell you this is a 3 hour and 17 minute documentary about the New York Public Library? On first impressions, it seems like it could probably be one of the most dull and drawn-out things ever made. But this is the latest work from Frederick Wiseman, the living legend documentarian still going strong in his 80s. I’d been meaning to try one of his films for a long time, from his earlier work with High School and Hospital, to his recent films exploring institutions of learning, National Gallery and At Berkeley. I was lucky to get to see this at a busy screening the BFI with the man himself doing a Q&A after.
This film is peak definition of fly-on-the-wall doc. He said he and his cinematographer filmed over 150 hours over 12 weeks, and he spent nearly a year editing it down. There’s no overarching story or protagonist, no narration, no sense of mass upheaval or change. This is literally just some highlights and everyday footage of working life in the vast caverns and many buildings and spaces the library occupies across New York. We see kids classes; what members of the public are doing on their computers; talks with authors including discussions with Patti Smith and Elvis Costello; seminars about topics ranging from slavery to the history of Jewish delis; senior team meetings; afternoon concerts. The range of content is dizzying, and it gives a wonderfully vast portrait of how important an institution like this is, how much it offers to so many, and how much work goes into keeping it going.
At times dull, sometimes charmingly odd and funny, often inspirational, Ex Libris is very much a film one can get lost in. It’s a huge testament to how seamlessly it was edited together that it flows so smoothly, and that it can cut together an hour-long board meeting into a 5 minute clip that gives an immersive view on how they discuss the future of the library.
This is a film which celebrates a love of learning and curiosity, and simply portrays the unparalleled good such an institution can bring to so many. We see meetings to discuss the need to share resources more fairly with underprivileged communities; an engaging lecture about the importance of sign language; a scheme to grant poorer families their own wifi routers. It’s a heartening film, steeped so overwhelmingly with snippets of people working hard to help others, share knowledge and better themselves. I probably won’t need to see it again, but as a study of the wonderful everyday, it’s a fine piece of work.
Musings from a Darkened Room 