The Case for Global Film

Discussing everything that isn't Hollywood (and a little that is).

Archive for October, 2012

26th Leeds International Film Festival

Posted by keith1942 on 29 October 2012

Sansho Dayu screening in the Retrospectives section.

This year’s festival runs from the 1st until the 18th of November. There are about 160 films on offer, in a variety of categories and venues. At the start of the Festival there is Ben Affleck’s new film Argo and the new Jacques Audiard film Rust and Bone. And right at the end of the Festival Michael Haneke’s Cannes prize-winner Amour makes an appearance. In between there as a wide range of choices programmed into five distinct categories.

The Official Selection addresses contemporary cinema and the ‘incredible diversity and brilliance of global filmmaking.’ Of course, new releases are rather like racing tips – they may or may not fulfil expectations. However, the selection represents a wide range of film industries and genres. The filmmakers include Xiaoshuai Wang from China, Thomas Vinterberg from Denmark, François Ozon from France, British directors Michael Radford and Martin McDonagh plus a number of first time directors, including the Hollywood star Dustin Hoffman.

Retrospectives has an especially strong selection this year. The ‘special focus’ is a profile of the Japanese actress and filmmaker Kinuyo Tanaka. She worked through several different periods of Japanese film and with three of its greatest masters, Kenji Mizoguchi, Mikio Naruse and Yasujiro Ozu. Her scene at the end of Sansho Dayu (1954) is one of the most sublime endings in World Cinema.  She was also a pioneer woman direction in the Industry. There are six of her films, all in either 35 or 16mm. And there is a workshop on November 3rd at the Centre for World Cinemas at the University of Leeds.

This category also celebrates the early Soviet of films of Andrei Konchalovsky: arguably superior to and certainly more interesting that his work in Hollywood. These are films from the 1960s and 1970s and ones that are not always that easy to see.

There are several Silent Screenings with live music: though the brochure only lists the 35mm or 16mm formats: some will be digital and depending how much of a purist you are it may be worth checking beforehand.

The category also includes Kubrick’s The Shining and Barry Lyndon: a number of fairly recent films from Portugal: and tributes to great cinematographers, including Vittorio Storraro and Sven Nykvist.

Fanomenon offers horror, sci-fi and animation. Substantial events include both an all-night Night of the Dead and an Anime day. There are also cult films, Django (1966), King Kong vs Godzilla (1962) and the martial arts film Somi, the Taekwon-do Woman (1997). This is a large and varied selection, read through the brochure carefully if this is your scene.

Cinema Versa covers documentary film, especially ones that fit an ‘underground aesthetic’. This section also covers a wide and varied selection of works. There is Five Broken Cameras, a newly released film about the Palestinian struggles against occupation and exploitation. There are a number of films about or presenting music, including a new improvisation to the Surrealist classic, Un Chien Andalu (1929). Shadows of Liberty promises a critical analysis’s of the ‘disintegrating freedoms’ in the USA: timely given the election. And the Pavilion project presents the Abandoned Projectors show, which premiered at Leeds old, disused Lyric cinema.

Finally there is Short Film City Intro, again with varied films from many countries. These are programmed in feature length presentations, including several ‘short film competitions’.

The full Brochure is available in print or online, and there are regular updates via email, Twitter, Facebook and YouTube. The festival venues are the usual ones. The Town Hall is not completely ideal for sound, but has improved its quality. The Vue has gone all digital. This is fortunate as it means that nearly all the 35mm screenings will be at the Hyde Park Cinema, with a projection team well versed in its technicalities. And I assume that the Silent Comedies at the Cottage Road Cinema will also be in 35mm, and they include a Harold Lloyd feature.

So, a fairly full eighteen days on offer, with both interesting new offering from round the world and some classics from the past – including of course several that featured in the Sight and Sound Critics Poll of this year.

Festival site –

Posted in Festivals and Conferences, Japanese Cinema, Silent Era | Tagged: | Leave a Comment »

Les neiges du Kilimandjaro (The Snows of Kilimanjaro, France 2011)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 26 October 2012

The opening shot of Snows of Kilimanjaro – the union meeting in which the 20 men to be made redundant are chosen.

I’d almost forgotten about Robert Guédiguian – which is a terrible admission since I like his films very much. This one left me in tears and emotionally drained with just a small nagging doubt about the politics. My emotional response suggests that this is a very effective family melodrama and I do think that it is a perceptive and intelligent film about contemporary political ideas. The whole enterprise has been undertaken with love and a clear principled stand.

The basic premise is not unlike the beginning of Couscous (La graine et le mulet, 2007) with an older worker made redundant in a dockyard and the consequent issues around marriage/partners and family conflicts. In this case however, Michel is also a union steward faced with redundancies that the union can’t (or possibly won’t) fight. He puts his own name into the lottery to decide which twenty men will go and duly picks himself as one of those to go. We learn that Michel is a lifelong socialist whose hero is Jean Léon Jaurès (the great French socialist leader from the turn of the century who was assassinated in 1914) but now he is contemplating retirement in his late 50s.

At first everything is fine and Michel and his wife Marie-Claire are given a wedding anniversary present of a safari holiday in Tanzania including a trip to Kilimanjaro by their children. But then something very disturbing happens that shakes up the couple and their closest friends, Raoul (Michel’s closest workmate) and his wife Denise, who is also Marie-Claire’s sister. I won’t spoil the narrative, but what happens certainly puts Michel and Marie-Claire into a difficult position and forces Michel in particular to question his own actions. Did he really fight for the jobs of the younger workers who were made redundant. Has he become old and complacent, just another passive member of the bourgeoisie? What he and Marie-Claire do then (she has her own concerns and takes her own line) causes a rift with their grown-up children, both of whom have families, in a scene that has echoes of Douglas Sirk’s All That Heaven Allows. At the same time, a potential rift between Michel and Raoul also hinges on what we might see as traditional working-class politics and the response to moments of crisis.

Robert Guédiguian is perhaps the nearest French equivalent of the Ken Loach-Paul Laverty school of filmmaking. He has made several films set in the working-class districts of Marseilles. All of these films feature Ariane Ascaride (Guédiguian’s wife) and often Jean-Pierre Darroussin – and here the two play Marie-Claire and Michel. Like Loach, he also has a regular script collaborator, Jean-Louis Milesi. Guédiguian also sometimes makes specific use of his own Armenian ancestry, here represented by the references to Jaurès who was also part Armenian. The other inspiration for the film was a poem by Victor Hugo. The poem and a speech by Jaurès can be found in the Press Pack from Mongrel Films.

The political observation at the centre of the film is that in Guédiguian’s view there is no more a ‘working class’, at least as a coherent entity. Employment has changed in France as in most of Western Europe so that unionisation has been weakened by the loss of large-scale employment in factories, shipyards, mines etc. Younger workers especially have only experienced the individualist ideologies of the modern workplace. Subjected to consumerism, de-regulation and all the other soul-destroying aspects of modern capitalist culture, they have never experienced the solidarity of the unionised workforce, nor realised what those working-class movements won in terms of employment rights. It isn’t their fault and in many ways they do face a tougher world.

Milesi’s script and Guédiguian’s direction produce a film narrative that manages to be both provocative in terms of asking difficult political questions and also warm-hearted and celebratory of the central loving relationship between Michel and Marie-Claire. I think that you could argue that the ending is still in some ways ‘open’ and that not all issues are tidied up, but certainly on a sunny day, eating outside on a terrace overlooking the port, Marseilles isn’t quite like a wet Wednesday in Greenock or Salford which might be the location in a British social realist equivalent.

My nagging doubt is the omission of any analysis of the reasons for the collapse of unionised employment – or real engagement with what the union needs to do to support and educate younger workers. The film isn’t really interested in the work of the men – we never learn what exactly they do, whether they are dockers, ship-repairers or whatever. Perhaps I’m asking for too much. This is a romantic melodrama with a leavening of contemporary political concerns – and it is very enjoyable. The title has a double meaning referring to the dream of visiting the mountain, and a popular chanson which has memories for Michel and Marie-Claire.


Posted in French Cinema, Melodrama, Politics on film | Tagged: , | 5 Comments »

LFF 2012: Final thoughts

Posted by Roy Stafford on 25 October 2012

BFI Southbank, as seen from the river and nestled beneath Waterloo Bridge. The riverside bar is on the left and on the side of the building is the old nameplate of the ‘National Film Theatre’.

I enjoyed my three day visit to the LFF and this time to have the chance to spend more time in ‘BFI Southbank’ as it is now branded. I know that the changes took place some time ago, but for those of who live 200 miles or more away, the LFF is our main chance to experience it.

I failed to enquire why I couldn’t get a Wifi connection, so that’s my fault. On the positive side, I did spend time in the BFI Library, although only as a reading room, so I can’t comment on how efficient it was in getting books from stacks. But it’s free and I didn’t need to book and I appreciate that (I am a BFI member, but at Stephen Street you had to book and pay if I remember rightly – I most used the library back in the 1980s in Charing Cross Road). In the evening, the library space became a venue for talks etc. I didn’t visit the Mediathèque, which was closed on one of the days, but it’s clearly a useful resource (you can watch a wide range of BFI holdings on-line). Perhaps what I appreciated most was that the whole building is now more open and airy. The bar-restaurant overlooking the river seems to work much better than I remember previous arrangements and it was a pleasure to have a late breakfast there before a late morning screening.

I’m still puzzled though as to where the LFF is going and what it now thinks it is for. I went to eight screenings. They were chosen to be ‘not American or British’ and ‘not films known to be about to open or to have already secured a UK release’. My logic is quite simple, London has been the one festival in the UK which has screened a selection of global cinema that probably won’t get a UK release, but is at the same time high quality and likely to figure in future discussion of global trends. On that basis, my selection worked well. I enjoyed all eight films and although it looks likely I might have a chance to see some of them again, none of them will get a UK release in the near future. There are over 200 films in the LFF and none of my selections have been mentioned in any of the mainstream media reports on the festival that I’ve seen. As far as radio, press and TV are concerned, the festival seems to be about a limited number of high-profile films, mostly American or British – or major art films already set up for UK release. What’s the point of highlighting these? (To be fair, there was a short piece in the i newspaper which urged London cinemagoers to ignore the week’s predictable new commercial films on release and seek out the more unusual films in the festival.)

London has a problem as a film festival. Its timing places it after all the major European festivals (Berlin, Cannes, Karlovy Vary, Venice, San Sebastián etc.). It finds itself with only a handful of major films that offer a European première or a ‘world première’ (Toronto has already taken most major films). And now London is competing with Rome (now scheduled for November) for what is left. London was once a festival for UK cinephiles, allowing them to catch up with all the art films that had appeared at other festivals. It was relatively small and inward-looking. It has gradually grown and recently has reached out to a wider, non-specialised audience as well as attempting to attract industry delegates, partly through promoting its three competitions. But as industry commentators have pointed out, if LFF wants to raise its profile further (and in industry terms the UK rivals France as a film production/distribution centre) the BFI would need to throw a lot more money at the festival to secure more prestigious premieres and guests. At the moment, winning best film in London is not a big deal. This year, the winner was Rust & Bone, Jacques Audiard’s big breakthrough film after several arthouse triumphs. The film didn’t ‘need’ the London win, but perhaps it will help the film in the UK where it opens next week? In France, its biggest market, it opened back in May soon after its positive reception at Cannes. London opened with Tim Burton’s Frankenweenie (in UK cinemas a few days later) and closed with Mike Newell’s Great Expectations (in UK cinemas in December). These films fulfilled the red carpet requirements but do either of them belong in a major film festival?

LFF 2012 has been a commercial success for new director Clare Stewart with more bums on seats in more venues over a more concentrated period. I have no complaints about that and if promotion of cinemagoing to a wider public is the aim, all well and good. But is it compatible with raising the industry profile of the festival? Compare London to Toronto – no ‘official competitions’, only a ‘audience award’ but real evidence that the festival can launch small films on their way – Juno, Slumdog Millionaire are perhaps the best examples. Can LFF do that? Does it want to?

Posted in Festivals and Conferences | Tagged: | Leave a Comment »

LFF 2012 #8: Children of Sarajevo (Djeca, Bosnia-Herzogovina 2012)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 25 October 2012

Marija Pikic as Rahima

My final film during my festival visit was programmed in the ‘Debate’ strand, though again, I fail to see what the debate might be – except that we might want to argue that most of us who live comfortable lives ought to appreciate much more how difficult other lives can be. But that can’t really be contested, can it? Children of Sarajevo is a dark film but the strong performances, especially by Marija Pikic as the central character Rahima, make up for that and give us a sense of hope.

Produced with support from production companies and funding agencies in France, Germany and Turkey, Children of Sarajevo still ranks as a relatively low budget film and most of the action takes place indoors or on local streets at night. Rahima is introduced as a young woman wearing a headscarf and from the inserts of video footage of the war in Sarajevo in the 1990s, we deduce that she survived the war (but lost her parents) and has turned to her faith in an attempt to make sense of her life.

Rahima has problems. She is the only breadwinner in her household and works hard as a chef in a large restaurant. She returns home to housework and the latest calamity to befall her young brother Nedim, still at school. The neo-realist narrative driver in this film is a broken iPhone – belonging to the son of a local wealthy politician, but broken, allegedly, by Nedim in an attack on the boy. We don’t know exactly what is in Rahima’s background, but she is treated badly by the school headteacher and by the corrupt politician, both of whom expect her to pay for a new iPhone. Nedim doesn’t appear to be a ‘bad lad’, just not very aware of everything his sister has to do for him and he starts to make the wrong decisions about getting involved in local criminality.

On the other hand, Rahima is very much part of a community, with a potential suitor and close supporters in her housing block. I’m not really sure that I appreciated the significance of the hajib she wears. (I live in an area where muslim women wear all kinds of combinations of veils and scarves.) Rahima is the only one of the women in the film to do this and she clearly has female muslim friends. I found a review of the film written after its successful Cannes screening (the Jury Prize in the Un Certain Regard competition) that discusses this issue and quotes the film’s writer-director, Aida Begic (who is also photographed wearing a headscarf). The East European Film Bulletin review by Collete de Castro suggests that: “In wearing the veil, Rahima is at once closer to God and further away. Hiding from the world, she is at once protected and exposed.” The director is quoted as saying that the idea for the film came to her when she realised that “we don’t believe in the reconstruction of our society any more, we’ve replaced dreams with memories”. That makes sense. The world she depicts in the film is no longer at war as such, but it certainly isn’t a world that is at peace with itself and there appear to be great inequalities.

This is an intense film that requires attention to detail. I hope it gets a wider exposure. Here’s a trailer:

Posted in East European Cinema, Festivals and Conferences, Films by women | Tagged: , , | Leave a Comment »

LFF 2012 #7: Mahanagar (India 1963)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 24 October 2012

The young women recruited by ‘Autonit’ listen to the manager explaining the work. Arati (Madhabi Mukherjee) is 2nd from the left and Edith (Vicky Redwood) is on the far right.

It’s great news that Satyajit Ray’s 1963 masterpiece is to be re-released in the UK on a new digital print in Summer 2013 and it was a privilege to be able to view the new print in the ‘Treasures’ strand of the LFF. This restoration goes back to the original film negative and looks very good. The only slight disappointment is that this isn’t one of Ray’s more location-based films. The title translates from Bengali as ‘The Big City’, but much of the film uses sets and back projection. No matter, all the other ingredients are there: a beautifully written story, fantastic performances and a riveting theme of tradition, women’s freedom outside the home and the economic realities of modern Calcutta in the 1950s.

At various points, calendars and diaries tell us that it is 1953. Because we see little of the city, the only other contradictory signifier of time period is a rather more modern motor vehicle that looks early 1960s. The time period matters perhaps only in respect of one of the narrative strands concerning the Anglo-Indian community in the city – see below.

The story by Narendranath Mitra focuses on the Mazumdars, a single family of three generations. Subrata and Arati live with his parents and their own child plus Subrata’s younger sister – still a young teenager. Money is becoming scarce for this middle-class family. Subrata works as an accountant, but his salary is barely enough to support the extended family group and he feels ashamed that his father, a retired teacher with an MA, is reduced to seeking favours from his ex-students who have ‘made good’ (this is one of the separate narrative threads in the film as the old teacher visits his students). When Arati suggests that she might get a job, her husband at first refuses (and doesn’t tell his father) but the prospect of a second salary is far too tempting in the economic circumstances. Arati applies for a job and after an interview is appointed as a ‘salesgirl’ or ‘canvasser’, making housecalls in order to interest upper middle-class housewives in the purchase of a knitting machine. Her immediate boss is a successful Bengali manager. Presumably the machine itself is imported or made in India under licence. I’m not sure why I think this, but I suspect that Ray used his own experience of advertising agencies in London to design the company logo. This film isn’t about industry as such (that becomes the focus of Company Limited in 1971) but the Bengali manager makes several comments about being free of foreign control.

The film works mainly because of the riveting performance by Madhabi Mukherjee as Arati. She was only 20 when she worked on the film, but convinces as a married woman a few years older. The film narrative depends on her believable transformation into a working woman who can stand up for herself.

The ‘Anglo-Indian question’ is significant with the film set in the early 1950s, only a few years after independence. One of the other four young women appointed as canvassers at the same time as Arati is Edith, an Anglo-Indian in her early twenties about to get married and needing the income. The Anglo-Indians (defined here as mixed race families, rather than as Europeans who remained in India after independence) faced a difficult position when the British Raj ended. Many sought a new life in the UK, Canada or Australia. Those who remained, mainly in Calcutta or Madras, could no longer rely on the more prestigious jobs in railway administration. Edith is depicted as a modern young woman in Western clothes who speaks English in all situations. She befriends Arati, who is open to new experiences, and this friendship is central to the narrative, both in the influence of Edith on Arati and in the conflict created by the behaviour of the women’s boss who demonstrates his prejudice towards the Anglo-Indian community and Edith in particular. The manager is quite an unpleasant character and several commentators have linked this attack by Ray on the ‘new business types’ in the city to his similar criticisms of older business leaders in his previous film Kanchenjunga.

Despite the prejudice shown by the manager and some rather ungracious behaviour by one of the old teacher’s students, overall Ray sticks to the rule of his mentor Jean Renoir and characters are presented as ‘human’ in their behaviour. This is especially true within the family situation. Subrata has the education but he is not as bright as his wife. He is bound by tradition, but he loves his family. The ending of the film has been criticised by some as too optimistic – in a film about the economic realities of life in the city. But really it is optimistic about the marriage. I guess I’m an old romantic, but I thought that there were grounds for optimism. Often rated slightly less highly than Ray’s most famous films, Mahanagar is for me right up there amongst the best.

Posted in Bengali Cinema, Directors, Festivals and Conferences, Indian Cinema, People | Tagged: , , , | 2 Comments »

El alma de las macas (The Soul of Flies, Spain-UK 2011)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 23 October 2012

Nero (Andrea Calabrese) and Miguel (Javier Sáez), the brothers on the road to their father’s funeral.

This film demonstrates that it is possible to make a decent ‘festival film’ able to attract audiences in many countries with virtually no production budget at all (see the official website). Some press reports suggest that the film was completed for €1,000, but in an interview the writer-director (and cinematographer-editor) Jonathan Cenzual Burley suggests that with the cost of post-production, the budget would probably equal “the cost of a decent car” (£20,000?). I’d urge any young filmmaker to watch the film and see just what is possible.

The best advice to first time writer-directors with very little money is probably to create a story about something you know, set it in a location you can easily access and cast your friends and relations if they are suitable. Burley is perhaps fortunate in that his grandparents’ house is on the plains of Salamanca in Western Castile. Given plenty of sunshine and a landscape full of possibilities in representing the myths and legends of Spanish culture, he made the sensible decision to place his two central characters in this wonderful landscape and to keep his camera low and compose the most beautiful vistas. Added to this he found two more than competent musicians (one of whom, Andrea Calabrese is also one of the two lead actors) to provide an interesting soundtrack of mostly guitar and accordion music. But is there a story, you ask? Well, sort of . . .

Burley tells us that he is interested in Spanish stories, although he actually namechecks Gabriel García Márquez. But he does conjure up a tale of the picaresque that refers us back to Cervantes (and perhaps to Luis Buñuel’s films since a character turns up from Santiago de Compostela amongst other possible references). In a prologue we learn that an old man, who has had an ‘adventurous life’ traversing the world many times, is dying in his village and his final act is to invite to his funeral his two sons – who have never met him or indeed each other. Finding each a brother is his parting gift. The two half-brothers meet at an abandoned railway station and proceed to get lost together as they seek out the village where the funeral is to be held. Along the way they meet a diverse range of characters and of course find out something about each other.

The film is quite short. It is divided into chapters and Burley uses some simple devices to denote dreams and fantasies. If you are of a mind, it is possible to spot lots of potential references to European art films. However, the tone of the film is light and playful. It is described as a comedy. I’m not sure it is laugh-out-loud funny, but it is certainly amusing. The technical aspects of production are handled well and the cast, most of whom seem to be family members or actors with no or little previous experience, are generally pretty good. On Rotten Tomatoes, the film is listed as 83% fresh. Some of the more experienced (and possibly jaded?) critics didn’t like it, but younger critics did.

El alma de las macas appeared in cinemas in the UK in July and it  is now available to own on DVD from 22 October, courtesy of Matchbox Films. Order your copy here:


Posted in Spanish Cinema | Tagged: , , , | Leave a Comment »

Ginger & Rosa (UK 2012)

Posted by Rona on 22 October 2012


Making one little world an everywhere – Elle Fanning as Ginger

Sally Potter’s new film, Ginger & Rosa is drawing a very different response from critics who have found her artistic style previously inaccessible. It has drawn comparisons with Orlando, her towering adaptation (for an incredibly tight budget, even in 1992, of $4 million) or The Tango Lesson (1997), made with Potter at the central figure as a woman learning about her emotions as well as her dancing skill on an odyssey (‘away’ from the demands of writing and creating) to Paris and Buenos Aires. The sense of escape – the emotional joy of it in that film – could make us forget we are watching something written and created by Potter. Both films demonstrate Potter’s flair with crafting images of lyrical, romantic intensity – so arresting it could be easy to forget the emotional underpinning that music often provides in these and her other films. Even in ones that seem removed from her more mainstream narratives, there is a rhythm in repetition of action or, for example, in the deep musical voice of Celeste Laffont, who muses philosophically on female/feminist and capitalist states in both Thriller (1979) and The Gold Diggers (1983). A contemporary, and friend, of Derek Jarman and working through the politically-activist 1970s through the resistant 1980s, Potter has often been regarded as part of the British art cinema scene rather than a mainstream filmmaker.

Much has been made, therefore, of the mainstream sensibility of this film and foregrounding it as a departure for Potter. This oddly forgets The Man Who Cried which starred Christina Ricci in another coming-of-age drama, similarly focused on an isolated character – a refugee of a Russian pogrom on a quest to find her father (in America). Whilst this latter film followed a conventional picaresque narrative for its main character, including her romance with an uneducated but poetic Romany (played by Johnny Depp), Ginger & Rosa follows its main character through a particular crisis. It could be described as a family melodrama focused on Ginger’s emotional response to a changing relationship with her parents, resulting from their separation. However, set at the time of the Cuban missile crisis, Potter (as writer) brings together the tension of the personal and the political – not only in Ginger’s own political awakening and turning away from home to realise the importance of world events but in the way in which politics is embedded and entwined in her emotional relationship with her father.  I am going to put the context to one side – wrongly I know, because the film animates that period of history and does so most effectively through the persistent sound of the news reports that permeate every private space. When I saw it, another cinemagoer spontaneously talked to me about how it had brought back that whole era really vividly for him. So, I’m turning my face away from the politics, to look at its personal, melodramatic form. Partly because I think Potter explores effectively how the political – truly believed in – can also be as much about personal loyalties and deep-rooted family feeling and this becomes an absorbing tension at the heart of this narrative – not least, importantly, because the playing of it by Elle Fanning and Alessandro Nivola is so incredibly moving. Not often can films let complicatedly good and bad figures remain just that – but Nivola and Potter succeed here. Fanning is drawing Oscar buzz for her performance, and the rawness of her emotions on screen (pretty much carrying a film at 13 years old) are incredible.  Alice Englert, as the apparently more experienced worldly-wise childhood friend, is as finely judged  in what has to be a less showy performance (to prevent the film becoming imbalanced in any way). Shot by Robbie Ryan, Andrea Arnold’s regular collaborator/cinematographer, the colour palette often adds the kind of melodramatic intensity and to express the interiority – I liked to think sometimes (as above) the walls were allowed to turn russet to reflect Ginger’s emotions as well as reflecting an idea of the world she was trying to save. Music, similarly, was actively used in the scenes (rather than remaining a directorial mood-inducing soundtrack) as arising from the characters’ need for expression or comfort  –where their human conversations avoided the confrontations that would force them to let go of the beliefs they needed to hang onto (political or personal).

Potter is used to directing stars (Cate Blanchett and John Turturro joined Ricci and Depp in The Man Who Cried and her innovative Rage – released via mobile phone webisodes in 2009 – included actors such as Judi Dench, Steve Buscemi and Jude Law).  She has a number in supporting roles here – Mad Men’s Christine Hendricks, Annette Bening, Timothy Spall and Oliver Platt. Certain scenes do struggle with the weight of ‘adult’ cross-currents and declarations, but the cast do support (rather than overwhelm) what is a really affecting – and to me as an adult female – true portrait of the kinds of intense friendships born in childhood that can hit the rapids towards adulthood. Its evocation of those unbalanced and intense female friendships was incredibly moving – and was a proper inheritor to earlier women’s pictures in which portraits of women’s relationships were not sketchily or patronisingly conceived. Potter’s films may sometimes issue strong intellectual challenges but in her films there is always a strong romantic consciousness and emotionality (such as in the iambic pentameter-driven Yes (2004)) that does not patronise or render complicated emotions tritely.  Satisfying cinema on many levels – no labels really required.

Posted in British Cinema, Films by women, Melodrama | Tagged: | 3 Comments »

LFF 2012 #6: Dreams for Sale (Yume uru futari, Japan 2012)

Posted by Roy Stafford on 21 October 2012

Kanya and Satoko

Writer-director Nishikawa Miwa was in attendance for this screening and through the excellent interpreter, whose name I didn’t catch, she was able to give the audience plenty to think about. It’s quite a long film (134 mins) and we didn’t leave NFT2 until around a quarter to midnight. I enjoyed every minute.

Dreams for Sale is a fascinating comedy-drama with two excellent lead performances by Matsu Takako (the teacher in Confessions) as Satako and Abe Sadawo as Kanya– Mr and Mrs Ichizawa, the central couple. At the beginning of the narrative, a fire in their restaurant as Kanya is preparing food destroys their investment and shakes their confidence. Satako recovers quite quickly and goes to work in a noodle bar but Kanya, the chef, is hit badly and starts to drink. However, a chance encounter with a woman he knows provides access to a new sum of money. At this point, we realise that we’ve seen this woman before in a sequence which seemed inconsequential at the time. This is a strategy Nishikawa develops through the film. The audience needs to stay awake to remember everything they have seen and link scenes together.

Satako is at first upset that her husband has got something from another woman, but then she starts to recognise that her husband, though not conventionally handsome, has a charm that seems to attract vulnerable women and she begins to work out how to use this quality to ensnare women with access to money. The couple will eventually become an adept pair of ‘marriage fraudsters’. Posing as his sister, Satako finds women and prepares the way for Kanya to seduce them into ‘pledging’ money for marriage – or simply because they will do anything for him.

Nishikawa Miwa told us that she had researched marriage fraud in Japan and that it was a significant issue. The obvious course would have been to make the film a crime story – how will they be found out, what will happen to them? There are also comic elements to exploit in the suspense as the stories of deception become more difficult to set up and control and we imagine all the duped women turning up at the same time. Indeed, some reviewers see the film as a very controlled farce. However, though there are elements of both crime film and comedy, Nishikawa plays it much more like humanist drama. What she really wants to do is to explore love and marriage – what does the deception do to the couple, what do they find out about themselves? They are not ‘bad people’ and most of the women they defraud have money to spend and they are getting something from the deal. Satako and Kanya also want to spend the money on a new venture, telling themselves that they will pay everything back. This doesn’t make the crime acceptable, but it does point us towards thinking about the current state of society in Japan and in a way the film fits in with the long-running series of stories about unemployment amongst skilled workers in the face of a stagnant economy. In some ways the film attempts something similar to Villain, the very successful awards winner in Japan that failed to find audiences in the UK. I think Dreams for Sale is probably a better offering for UK audiences.

This is a very good film that reveals its many qualities gradually and makes some demands on audiences who are repaid handsomely in the way in which the narrative develops. I hope it gets wide distribution and I recommend it highly if you get chance to see it.

Posted in Comedies, Festivals and Conferences, Films by women, Japanese Cinema | Tagged: , , | Leave a Comment »


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