The Dreamed Path was the fourth feature by Angela Schanelec that I managed to catch in MUBI’s special section on her films before they disappeared. It is her latest release on the festival circuit and in some ways the most austere and ‘formally rigorous’, as one critic has put it, of the films I’ve seen. It’s relatively straightforward to outline the sparse plot details but much more difficult to read the possible meanings. The film opens in Greece with a young couple busking and singing Wimoweh (The Lion Sleeps Tonight) in the summer of 1984 in Greece. Close by young people are celebrating the ‘New Europe’ (even though Greece gained accession to the Economic Community in 1981). The young man receives news of his mother’s severe illness and heads home to the UK. The woman (who is German) doesn’t accompany him. Some thirty years later in Berlin another woman, an actor, is in the process of separating from her husband. They have a young daughter. When filming takes place with the actor in the large square in front of Berlin’s main railway station, we see that the Englishman is present with his dog and is apparently homeless. The German woman he knew years ago in Greece is also in Berlin. That’s more or less the plot minus a couple of dramatic and emotional moments.
‘Formally rigorous’ refers here to Schanelec and her cinematographer Rheinhold Vorschneider’s use of long shots and close-ups. In this film there is the pronounced use of close-ups of feet and other parts of the body which many critics/reviewers recognise as a reference to the later films of Robert Bresson. I haven’t seen enough of Bresson’s work (and certainly not enough recently) to comment on this. What is clear, however, is that Schanelec is, as usual, more interested in exploring how the filmic image in its composition and framing and in the context of editing and the presentation of characters in narrative space evokes responses in audiences rather than how the narrative events themselves are understood in a causal sequence. So, the camera’s focus on the young man’s feet when he makes a phone call home and hears about his mother is a very precise way of attempting to present an emotional moment. This, for me, is in contrast with a relatively long sequence set in an indoor swimming pool. In extreme long shot we can just see a young boy in a wheelchair with his legs strapped but who is stripped and wearing swimming trunks implying he intends to get into the water. As we watch him struggling to free his legs and move the wheelchair to the edge of the pool we hear but don’t immediately see a group of children in the water. Gradually they appear from the bottom of the screen and swim towards the end where the boy is attempting to get into the water. They will reach the end and turn and the boy will slip into the water. The scene ends with a cut to a closer shot of a small group in which one of the girls is checking the boy’s knee which he seems to have grazed in getting into the pool. One reviewer suggests that the girl licks the graze to help it heal but I don’t remember this clearly. Why did this sequence, especially of the image of the group of children swimming so catch my imagination? I don’t know but this ability of Schanelec and Vorschneider (and her two editor collaborators) to construct sequences like this is remarkable and consistent across their films.
Angela Schanelec’s films are coming to London courtesy of the Goethe-Institut later this year, see this MUBI Notebook essay by Patrick Holzapfel (who is curating the London showings). MUBI’s title for its Schanelec ‘Special Discovery’ season was ‘Showing not Telling’ – and so it proved to be. I still haven’t adjusted to MUBI’s ‘watch it before it’s gone’ policy. The Dreamed Path has been received as one of the films of the year on the festival circuit but I found it difficult to watch. I’d like the chance to watch it again without the time pressure. I’ve discovered some of Schanelec’s films are available but expensive on Amazon UK.
The two trailers below, one in German, the other subtitled in English, give an impression of the shooting style (in Academy ratio, 1.37:1) with the ‘feet’ shots in the first trailer:
This Festival was held between May 4th and May 6th at the George Eastman Museum in upper New York State. The Eastman Museum is now one of the few places where one can see 35mm film prints on the stock that was once the standard for cinema. The Museum’s Dryden Theatre was crowded for most of the weekend with archivists, critics and fans enjoying the distinctive image that the format offers.
In fact those of us there on the Thursday had a pre-festival treat with a screening of Hamlet (1948) from a Library of Congress print. Lawrence Olivier’s film adaptation of one of Shakespeare’s major masterpieces is a fine piece of work. He and his supporting cast are excellent. The adaptation uses judicious cutting to present an impressive drama. And the art design and cinematography are great to watch, given the technical standards at that time. The sound is equally well done and includes in the opening of the drama Olivier voicing his father’s ghost. The print showed up well on the nitrate stock. The frequent chiaroscuro looked good and the cast and their lighting had that silvery quality found on early stock.
The Festival programme was only announced on the Friday morning, a tactic I find rather coy. So we walked into Rochester centre to wander round the excellent second-hand bookshop there. One watches one’s baggage weight on the way out in order to be able to select from an extensive film section together with a wide range of other subjects.
The afternoon included two presentations. And, as is usual, the first set of screenings were short films on nitrate. It commenced with Symphony of a City (Människor I stad, 1947). This film, directed by Arne Sucksdorff, presented a day in Stockholm and the film won the Best Short Subject (One reel) at the 1949 Academy Awards. There was the only silent film at the Festival, Our Navy (1918) for which Phil Carli’s accompaniment added élan. There was an early Cinecolor short, filmed using a sub-tractive two colour process. This presented a Roman Catholic priest, [a Jesuit I think] exploring a glacier in Alaska. Following this was a 1946 Technicolor travelogue,Along the Rainbow Trail, found on the San Juan River. But the pick of the programme was Len Lye’sTrade Tattoo(1937). Only six minutes in length this is fine example of the work of this talented animator. On nitrate stock the film was a dazzling tapestry of colours, which involved hand painting and a certain amount of surrealist imagery.
The Friday early evening screening is traditionally a foreign language print and we were treated to an early Ingmar Bergman film, Sommarlek / Summer Interlude (1951). Much of the film presents a youthful romance in flashback. I think it is the first Bergman film with recognisable authorial narrative and characterisations. The majority of sequences were filmed in an archipelago over water and islands, and the dappled woods, sun-lit rocks and changing water hues were a real pleasure on nitrate.
The late film, starting at 10 p.m. was the 1938 Holiday, directed by George Cukor and starring Cary Grant with Katharine Hepburn. The two leads and supporting cast were good but I was not convinced by the script. The Cary Grant character, supposedly immune from desires for wealth, seems more about facilitating the plotting than presenting a convincing character. The film is handsomely produced and the print was good quality.
Saturday morning saw only one film, The Razor’s Edge (1946). This was adapted , fairly faithfully, from a novel by Somerset Maugham. It starred Tyrone Power as a man searching for meaning in life over decades. The protagonist suited Power’s persona, which whilst often swashbuckling is also frequently divided psychologically. Herbert Marshall was engaging as the writer (Maugham) though his commentary was much reduced from the book. Opposite Tyrone Power were the young Anne Baxter and Gene Tierney. Tierney enjoyed some of the best sequences in the film. This was her fourth appearance in a Nitrate Picture Show programme; who is the unpublicised fan at the Museum? The film was directed by Edmund Golding, an underrated director in Hollywood. He works well with actor and made several titles with Power. And he works well with the cinematography. There are frequent finely executed tracking shots which give the film an continuing flow as years and settings change. There was also good production design and a generally suitable score.
Then lunch. This year the Museum bar was augmented by food trucks in front of the Museum. Fortunately whilst there was quite an amount of rain over the weekend it was not in the meal breaks.
After lunch we enjoyed a print from the Narodni filmy archiv in Prague, Mlhy Na Blatech / Mist of the Moors (1943). This was a rural drama on fairly conventional lines. But there were sequences where the landscape, with trees, hillocks and ponds showed up well on nitrate.
There followed an early Anthony Mann western, Winchester ’73 (1950). This is not Mann’s finest work but James Stewart, displaying the psychotic side of his character that was bought out in Mann’s films, is excellent. There are some fine landscapes and an intense struggle between brothers at the finale on a steep cliff. The print came from the Library of Congress. It looked pretty good but did suffer from some warping which affected the focus.
The day ended with a real treat, a nitrate print of the marvellous Powell and Pressburger film, The Red Shoes (1948), I remember Ken Brownlow in a broadcast comparing silent film to ballet: this sound film is a tour-de-force of movement and colour. Apart from the brilliant ballet shot with great skills by Jack Cardiff, there are the pleasures of the acting/dancing with a terrific performance as a Svengali impresario by Anton Walbrook. The print was quite worn but the Technicolor looked great. In fact the projection relied on two prints, partly from a George Eastman Museum print, and for the final two reels a personal copy belonging to Martin Scorsese. I did think that the final two reels were of slightly better quality.
Sunday morning is usually the slot for a film noir, a genre which, with its chiaroscuro, suits the palette of nitrate. This year we had Cry of the City, a 1948 RKO film directed by Robert Siodmak. The film’s lead was Richard Conte as a gangster hospitalised and trying to avoid a murder rap. His nemesis is played by Victor Mature. Conte is striking whilst Mature is excellent, though he does not quite fit a character from the same Italian neighbourhood. The print was in good condition and was a pleasure to watch.
The afternoon film was a Soviet musical, a rarely seen genre. The director was Eisenstein’s assistant from the silent era Grigoriy Aleksandrov who made several film in this genre. Moscow Laughs (Vesolye Rebyata, 1934) offers a plot which centres on an a musical shepherd who is mistaken for a famous visiting conductor. The film opens in Odessa and there are some well done set-ups and a fine travelling shot on a local beach. There is a splendid sequence where the animals invade a local bourgeois reception creating chaos: the sequence offers almost surreal incidents. Later the ‘conductor’ takes his orchestra to a Moscow theatre. The latter stages are rather hammy and a little clunky. This is not socialist realism: more like a embryo effort for a new genre. The print’s distinction was that the film was restored in 1958 on surviving nitrate stock, making it the most recent film on nitrate seen at the Festival. The restored print apparently followed the original closely but much of the sound track was rerecorded.
This bought us to the ‘Blind Date’ screening. With even more coyness than over the programme the title of this film is only revealed as it runs on-screen. To tantalise the audience a single still is included in the brochure as a clue. I have consistently failed to guess correctly. Apparently at the first Nitrate Picture Show one visitor correctly identified t a footprint in a flower pot – from The Fallen Idol. This year I suggested a mining film.
There was a ripple of response when the shot/still appeared in an early scene, a hole waiting repair on an upside down curragh used by ‘The Man of Aran, Robert Flaherty’s famous docudrama from 1934. This is a n epic portrait of a small isolated community on the edge of the Atlantic. We saw the central family fighting the rough seas, fishing for giant sharks, and laying out sparse potato patches on the inhospitable terrain. This was a fine demonstration of the virtues of nitrate. The roaring seas, the glistening foam, the sun-lit cliffs and shadowed rocks all looked magnificent. It was a high quality print of a striking film.
The festival brochure includes details of the prints including the shrinkage. It is now reckoned that nitrate prints have a longer shelf life than acetate prints, whilst comparatively digital dies in childhood. But nitrate prints do shrink over time; it is reckoned that once shrinkage reaches 1% projection becomes extremely difficult or impossible. This is one of the difficulties faced by the projection team who also work with Projectors that contain safety features in case of fire. So there was frequent applause for the team during the Festival. We also had digital sub-titles for several films but I thought the Museum has not yet mastered the technology as on several occasions the English titles went out of sync with the foreign dialogue. Not a serious problem.
We had a full and rewarding weekend. Next year’s Picture Show will be on May 3rd to May 5th. This means it will fall on several important birthdays, notably Karl Marx. I suggested that a good title for next year would be Fame is the Spur (1947), a film by the Boulting Brothers which includes a rare feature, a photograph of Marx on the wall of a Manchester bookshop. Or there is May 3rd, the birthday of Mary Astor. It would be great to have a nitrate print of The Maltese Falcon (1941) or even Red Dust (1932).
Rosario Castellanos was a major figure in twentieth century Mexican literature. Born in 1925, she became one of the leading members of the so-called ‘1950 Generation’ who became highly influential. Rosario was a socialist feminist and produced volumes of poetry, essays and three semi-autobiographical novels. In 1971 she was appointed as Mexico’s ambassador to Israel on the basis of her importance as a writer and activist. She died tragically as the result of a domestic accident in Tel Aviv in 1974. Some claimed her death was suicide and there have been attempts to place her alongside Sylvia Plath as a feminist writer.
‘Los adioses’ translates literally as ‘The Goodbyes’ but has been given the English title ‘Eternal Feminine’. I’m not sure exactly why, except that it fits film marketing ideas. The film is a partial biopic focusing on two distinct periods in Rosario’s life – her ’emergence’ in the early 1950s and the period around the birth of her son in the late 1950s/early 1960s. The film narrative distorts the time periods slightly and offers two sets of actors playing the younger Rosario (Tessa Ia) in 1950 and an older version (Karina Gidi) roughly ten years later. At a student meeting, the young Rosario is challenged in a student meeting by Ricardo Guerra (Pedro De Tavira). Although he is attracted to her and makes a play for her, he marries someone else and it is not until 1958 that an older Ricardo (the Spanish actor Daniel Giménez Cacho – soon to appear on UK screens in Zama), having divorced his wife, now marries an older Rosario. The director Natalia Beristáin had only directed one complete feature and an episode in a portmanteau film before she took on Los adioses and she takes some brave decisions. The film opens with some ‘out of focus’ footage behind the titles that eventually becomes clear as a close-up of two bodies intertwined. We don’t yet know if this is the younger or older pair of actors but the aesthetic of close-ups and shallow focus has been established. Most of the film is set indoors in various apartments and rooms of the federal university in Mexico. I think the only trip away is back to the southern state of Chiapas where Rosario grew up as a small child. This time she goes back to receive an award – and Ricardo behaves badly.
I was a little surprised that more isn’t made of Rosario’s childhood. Her family originally owned land in Chiapas, the most southerly state with the greatest variety of indigenous peoples. Rosario was sympathetic to the plight of the Mayan people who worked on the land and, perhaps because the state bordered Guatemala she was also interested in Pan-Latin American ideas. Probably this history would have complicated the narrative too much so it is referenced obliquely in only a couple of scenes apart from the return visit. Instead the focus is on Rosario as a woman who is a writer, a teacher and an advocate of women’s rights who struggles in a patriarchal society. Ricardo is a Professor of Philosophy. My understanding from the film is that he was excited and challenged by Rosario’s talents but then became jealous of her success. Eventually he became the kind of husband who in the 1950s forced Rosario to choose her work or her child. The film narrative sees him develop from a lover to the worst kind of man for a woman like Rosario. The final sequence juxtaposes Rosario’s lectures to her students about patriarchy and the real battle that she faces in her home and in the university staffroom.
This trailer with English subs suggests that Los adioses is going to get a release over the border in the US, as it definitely should. There are large Hispanic speaking potential audiences there and there are certainly audiences for both female directors and stories like this about feminists who tried to make a difference. The trailer also usefully presents both the visual aesthetic of close-ups and shallow/deliberately blurred focus and the back and forth editing style. (The film is also going to get a release in France, so when will it come to the UK?)
The exuberant director of this film introduced it by telling us that it dealt with two of his most treasured things, friendship and music. Gabriel Nesci told us of his excitement at being in Manchester (he’d been present for the first showing in the UK of his film earlier during ¡Viva!). His previous film had opened the festival in 2014 and in addition his love of music was based on his appreciation of the Manchester music scene in the 1980s. Gabriel seems a nice guy but I always take what directors say with a pinch of salt. His new film is stuffed with music, much of it written by Gabriel himself, but the only ‘Madchester’ references I noted were a Stone Roses poster and a Joy Division ‘Unknown Pleasures’ tee-shirt. But then I’m no expert on Manchester music and I enjoyed the film very much.
I saw recently somewhere a definitive statement that “feelgood films are not a genre”. Maybe not, but they comprise a category of films used by audiences round the world. “A great Friday night movie” is a similar concept and in the unlikely event that a movie offering as much fun as this were to get distribution in the UK, I’d recommend it highly. In a more mundane way, IMDb calls this a comedy-drama-music film. It involves three middle-aged guys who were once a youthful rock trio in Buenos Aires with the band name of ‘Auto-Reverse’. Just at the moment they were to release their first album and take the local scene by storm in 1992, their creative musical talent suddenly upped and went back to Spain with no explanation. The other two gave up music and the tapes of their songs were seemingly lost. Twenty-five years later, Axel (Santiago Segura), now an IT systems maintenance man in Madrid, spots that a Buenos Aires radio station is planning a ’25 years ago’ concert and he decides to fly back to Argentina. The other two band members are Javier (Diego Peretti) who is now a biology teacher and Lucas (Diego Torres), a lawyer. When Axel arrives he discovers both his ex-colleagues are having major problems but he worms his way back into Javier’s life and urges them to get back together as a band. When they discover that their one superfan from 1992, Sol (Florencia Bertotti) still has the original cassettes of their songs, everything seems possible – until it goes wrong.
The plot rolls out down some well-travelled lines but it’s all well done. The narrative drive is shared between Axel and Javier. Axel is presented as somewhere on the autistic spectrum and his behaviour is mined for many of the laughs. I suspect that Santiago Segura’s star persona is also being used in some ways. He’s an actor known outside Hispanic culture for his work with Guillermo del Toro in cameo parts in most of del Toro’s English language films. But in Spain he is known for his work with Álex de la Iglesia and also as the eponymous central character in the Torrente franchise of five comedy crime films in which he writes, directs and stars. These are some of the most commercially successful films in Spanish cinema. Segura’s Axel has a stuttering walk and a complete lack of social intelligence, going for unwanted hugs and saying all the wrong things to everybody but also having the autistic ‘savant’ capacity to write music and deal with all kinds of music technologies. He’s the ‘computer nerd’ with real talent and the opposite of Lucas the smooth lawyer. Axel’s behaviour is highlighted by his attempts to communicate with the woman he fell for but couldn’t speak to in 1992. Abril (Claudia Fontán) is now in a wheelchair after an accident and the exchanges between these two might raise a few eyebrows given the current concerns about typing characters. However, I don’t think the film is offensive in any way, in fact it’s quite sensitive. Javier’s problems are with his teenage son and his bored students, cue the amazement of digital natives when their teacher is revealed to have been a bass player (who writes and sings the lyrics for Axel’s songs) and appears performing on YouTube. Javier is the main focus for drama – he hasn’t recovered from his wife’s death and he fears he’s losing his son. Axel also carries the potential for drama and the mystery of his disappearance all those years ago waits to be explained. Lucas has just been found out as a suspected fraudster. He plays the drums – ’nuff said.
I won’t spoil all the other elements of the narrative. Overall, I think this is an engaging comedy and the kind of Hispanic film that ¡Viva! has often screened, allowing us to enjoy comedies from another language culture. Gabriel Nesci’s songs are pretty good too.
Here’s the Spanish language trailer (no English subs):
Netflix and Amazon don’t interest me as subscription services – except that not being a subscriber means that it isn’t possible for me to fully understand what they mean for other cinephiles because I don’t know the full extent of what they show. I have used both iTunes and Curzon World to watch films, paying a fee each time, but MUBI represents something different. After 30 days of free viewing with a promotional voucher I’m now a subscriber at £1 per month for three months. They are certainly prepared to give me a long taster before charging me the standard £7.99 a month. At this point I do feel I’ve got a reasonable idea of how the service works and whether I would recommend it.
The MUBI model is to offer a new film (i.e. added to the current slate) each day. Once added that film is then available for the next 30 days. These titles are free to watch and re-watch over the 30 days for all subscribers. In addition, MUBI offers a rental section which is much more select than the big providers – just 128 films are currently available. These titles are available for rent for as little as £2.49 with a handful of current films costing £4.49. The rental period is standard – once you’ve paid you have 30 days to organise a viewing which must be completed in 48 hours once you start viewing. What kinds of films are on offer as rentals and as selected ‘film of the day’? On the whole these are definitely cinephile offerings. Many are ‘festival films’ – films which you are unlikely to find easily on a cinema release or even on DVD or Blu-ray in the UK. MUBI operates in several territories and has deals which enable it to put films in front of UK subscribers that could not otherwise be seen. I’ve already blogged on films by Thomas Arslan and Angela Schanelec that certainly fall into that category. All of the titles are ‘curated’ in some way, selected in accordance with various criteria according to auteur status, avant-garde, documentary etc. There are American independents and Hollywood auteurs such as the melodramas of Douglas Sirk at Universal or Jacques Tourneur’s Technicolor Western Canyon Passage. There are films from Europe, Latin America and Asia with a couple from Africa, but nothing so far that I’ve noticed from India. There is a small selection of films that MUBI has distributed itself – to cinemas and online. What else does MUBI offer? Curation means that you can dig quite deep into MUBI’s archives to find pieces written for its ‘Notebook’ on a wide range of films and topics. These pieces by writers, some of whom are familiar to me, are of varying lengths and complexity/access. MUBI’s sense of community is also fostered by its Twitter feed (and subscribers receive email alerts). One feature that is both useful and annoying is the provision of pages on lots of films that have been available in the past, may be available on other MUBI sites in different territories – and may return to the UK site. To give an example, there are eight films for rental from Walerian Borowczyk, but all 40 of his films have a page on the MUBI site. On these pages are cast lists and user reviews as well as links to appropriate Notebook articles.
I’ve actually been registered with MUBI since 2010 (it was previously known as The Auteurs), but have not subscribed up until now. I always understood that the idea behind MUBI was to generate a ‘conversation’ about films that was properly global, something this blog is obviously going to support. For a long time though I thought that I could be satisfied by the films on offer in my local cinemas. Alas I’m increasingly beginning to despair at what’s on offer and to worry that as I become more decrepit I won’t want to travel so far to watch films in cinemas. I haven’t actually reached that point yet, but it is comforting to know that there is a service out there. In the last thirty days I have watched around eight films on MUBI and dipped into a few more without as yet finishing them. The service is clearly worth £7.99 per month. My home broadband signal (very fast by UK standards produces a very efficient streaming service and I’ve no complaints about the quality of the image. I want to watch around a third of the films on offer, perhaps another third I’ve already seen and the rest don’t interest me that much, though I’m game to try some of them. The problem remains that watching on my TV doesn’t equate to seeing the films in the cinema – but the possibility of re-watching them is very appealing. Overall, I’d say that it is a worthwhile service that I look forward to exploring further.
MUBI was founded in 2007 by Turkish engineer and entrepreneur Efe Çakarel. It has had partnerships with several film-related organisations over the last eight years and is now available in several parts of the world via Mac and PCs, iOS and Samsung Smart TVs. In 2015 it was reported to have a global subscriber base of over 7 million.
Perhaps predictably there has been plenty of adverse comment about the Cannes list of titles ‘in competition’ for the Palme d’Or this year with only three titles directed by women. I’m a very strong supporter of more access to Cannes and other festivals for films by women, but the recent upsurge of support and the impact of #MeToo will take time to produce results in terms of completed films of high quality directed by women who have finally got the opportunity to develop their careers. I’m not really a fan of festival competitions anyway, so I usually look at the other strands of a festival like Cannes as well as the main competition. In ‘Un Certain Regard’, the second strand, there are six films directed by women out of a total of fifteen titles selected. This compares favourably with the three out of eighteen in the official selection.
Un Certain Regard looks like a very encouraging selection. The strand presents “original and different” works which seek international recognition. There is a significant monetary prize and titles are also eligible for a range of jury prizes. It’s wonderful to see Nandita Das returning to Cannes with Manto, her biopic of the controversial writer Saadat Hasan Manto (1912-1955), played by Nawazuddin Siddiqui. Ms Das is no stranger to Cannes, having appeared on festival juries. She has an international profile as an actor and social/political activist and Manto is her second feature as director after Firaaq in 2008. Joining Nandita Das in the selection are Wanuri Kahiu from Kenya and Gaya Jiji from Syria plus Valeria Golino from Italy, multi-disciplinary artist Vanessa Filho with her first feature (a French production) and the French-Moroccan director Meryem Benm’Barek. Most of these women are represented by their first or second features as director. They join the three directors selected in the ‘Official Competition’. Nadine Labaki from Lebanon, whose two earlier films, Caramel (Lebanon-France 2007) and Where Do We Go Now? (Leb-Italy-Fra-Egypt 20111) both feature on this blog, joins Alice Rohrwacher whose The Wonders (Italy-Switz-Germany 2014) was much appreciated here. The third director to achieve ‘official selection’ is Eva Husson with Girls of the Sun (France-Belgium-Georgia-Switzerland 2018) starring the France-based Iranian actor Golshifteh Farahani as a female Kurdish fighter, commander of a batallion, the ‘Girls of the Sun’.
So, eight films by women to look out for. Amongst the men are some familiar names such as Spike Lee, Kore-eda Hirokazu, Pawel Pawlikowski, Jia Zhang-ke, Jafar Panahi, Matteo Garrone, Stéphane Brizé, Asghar Farhadi, Lee Chang-dong and the return of Jean-Luc Godard. I don’t know much about the other male directors, Hamaguchi Ryūsuke, Christophe Honoré, David Robert Mitchell, Kirill Serebrennikov and A.B Shawky. It will be interesting to read about their films and particularly about A. B. Shawky with his first film Yomeddine (Egypt-US-Austria 2018). This looks a strong line-up. I just hope we get to see many of the films in UK distribution.
This year’s ¡Viva! Festival opens at HOME on Thursday. Don’t get confused, but the brochure looks almost identical to last year’s, at least in design terms. This year’s festival has the banner title ‘La revolución’ and the mix of Spanish and Latin American theatre, film, music and exhibitions is this time skewed more towards Latin America in the film section. Having said that there is the usual range of co-productions which involve both Spanish and Latin American funds/producers and filmmaking talent.
The opening weekend focuses on Cuban cinema with premières and the classic Cuban film Memories of Underdevelopment (1968) from Tomás Gutiérrez Alea. Later comes Wim Wenders’ documentary The Buena Vista Social Club (1999). For cinephiles and serious politicos there is a rare opportunity to see The Hour of the Furnaces (dirs. Octavio Getino and Fernando Solanos, Argentina 1968) (16mm) on Sunday 22nd April. There are 19 films in all with some well-known directors such as Álex de la Iglesia from Spain and Fernando Pérez from Cuba with recent films. Fans of Guillermo del Toro will be intrigued to note that one of his favourite actors, Ron Perlman, turns up in a Cuban political satire, Sergio and Sergei (2017). Many films will be introduced and there are six Q&As with visiting filmmakers and events with presentations on ‘Cuban Cinema’, ‘Álex de la Iglesia’ and ‘Latin American Revolutions and Cinema’. ¡Viva! is the only place to get such a concentrated dose of Spanish and Latin American cinema in one go. Click on the image above to get the brochure.
I’m going to make some of the dates but not as many as usual, I’m afraid. Whatever I can get to, I’m looking forward to it!
This was my third visit to Glasgow Film Festival as a punter. It’s an ambitious festival with a strong local-global feel. It appeals to its local audience with a diverse range of events and activities, often linked to screenings of well-loved Hollywood films. There is also a focus on Scottish filmmakers – writers, directors, stars and their films and in the last couple of years a new ‘Industry’ strand supporting Scottish filmmaking. But it also celebrates the heritage of Glasgow Film Theatre with a similarly diverse range of foreign language films with directors and stars offering Q&As for some events. It’s this last strand that tends to be the focus for this blog.
Festival co-directors Allison Gardner and Alan Hunter work hard to find films at other international festivals and via their networks and contacts. I’m conscious this year that the range of films on offer felt different but I know that often this is dependent on what is picked up by sales agents or major distributors and then what is selected for Berlin, Cannes, Venice and Toronto. I usually hope to visit for three or four days, seeing between two and four films a day so any kind of overview is more about reading the brochure than what I’ve actually seen.
This year, the same sad trends are in evidence across the festival programme as I’ve noted at Leeds and London in recent years – the gradual shrinkage of the range of films available from Africa and Asia. I couldn’t find a single African or Indian film. Glasgow is one of the centres for the Africa in Motion festival later in the year, but the Indian cinema problem is I think as much to do with the failure of the distributors of Indian independent films to get involved in international distribution. This year, Glasgow did highlight Irish films and ‘Baltic’ films in two of its strands as well as casting a wide night for other strands such as Documentary, FrightFest and ‘Pioneer’ (first-time directors).
My usual 3/4 days expanded to six this year because of the weather which prevented me leaving by train. Unfortunately the snow was so bad that parts of the festival closed down completely and I was faced with only a limited programme on my extra couple of days. I must praise the staff at GFT for re-opening on the Thursday 1st March after struggling to get in to work. As co-director Allan Hunter quipped, the Blitz spirit was abroad on Rose Street.I think I ended up seeing more films than usual that have already or are soon about to open on general release. I also probably saw more archive prints. My highlights of the festival were therefore Sweet Country and Zama and, a revelation, the three films I managed from the Ida Lupino retrospective. I hope to be back in Glasgow next year – perhaps better prepared for ‘Red’ snow warnings!