I enjoyed a busy five days in Glasgow this year with a total of 16 screenings. The highlights for me were four francophone films, all directed by women and each in different ways exploring aspects of family melodrama. I know this isn’t everyone’s favourite genre but I enjoy it greatly and these four films were good examples of what can be achieved. Two of the films were part of the Belgian cinema strand in the programme and I also enjoyed Those Who Work, a Swiss francophone film starring that great Belgian actor Olivier Gourmet. So, out of 16 films a total of six good francophone films confirms the importance of French as a cinematic language.
Given the move to try to improve the profile of female filmmakers I should note that five of my 16 choices were directed by women and three of the others featured stories which were essentially about a central female character. Overall this year I didn’t see any ‘duds’. Everything I saw had something going for it. On the other hand, nothing blew my socks off and inspired me as happened last year. I was pleased to have the opportunity to see Alice’s Restaurant and Medium Cool on the big screen. Morning archive screenings in GFT1 with Allan Hunter are now a thriving strand in the festival and ‘1969: End of Innocence’ was a popular choice. I think that there have been quite a few Hollywood archive strands and it would be good to see some other major industry archives being utilised. I remember a packed screening in GFT3 for the Julien Duvivier film Panique (France 1946) back in 2016. More like that would be good.
This year I managed one film each from Argentina, Japan, China and India – but I think that was partly a matter of careful selections. It isn’t possible to have all the major industries represented via several titles every year and in previous years there have been more Latin American films and more of the others in other years. But programmers need to be vigilant to keep this kind of offer in the festival programme.
I only go to Glasgow for the more specialised films and there are many other events each year built around Hollywood screenings of favourite/cult films. This year I did get to taste the flavour of Frightfest and that was an interesting experience. The ‘local heroes’ strand is very important – as it should be – and I note that Glasgow FF is increasing its commitment to an Industry strand. If you haven’t been to Glasgow FF, I recommend it. It’s always on at roughly the same time, so next year download the programme and have a look. Finally, a shout out to the new Ibis Styles hotel near to Glasgow Central station which proved to be very congenial.
This completed my trio of films from the ‘End of Innocence’ strand of archive Hollywood films at the festival. Allan Hunter had his largest and most appreciative audience yet for his introduction. He made a strong argument that Midnight Cowboy marked a fundamental change in Hollywood, a ‘passing of the baton’ from one generation to another – at least in terms of stars. He reminded us that this was the first ‘X’ film to win Best Picture Oscar and he told us an anecdote about how Jon Voight, backstage at the Oscars to collect the Best Director Oscar on behalf of John Schlesinger, was congratulated by Fred Astaire. I’m amazed that the film still had an ’18’ certificate in the UK when the bbfc certified the most recent video copy in 2007. I don’t really understand why it was an ‘X’ in the first place. Hunter argued that Schlesinger was only half ‘out’ as gay at the time (but his next film Sunday, Bloody Sunday in 1971 features the bisexual young man played by Murray Head who is the lover of both Glenda Jackson and Peter Finch). Midnight Cowboy has a distinct homo-erotic subtext, but the original novel was more clearly the work of a gay writer. I’ve read that the issue in the US was the oral sex scene in the film. I guess we are more used to such scenes now but it must have been ‘shocking’ at the time.
If you haven’t seen Midnight Cowboy, the narrative sees a a young man from Texas dreaming of a better life in New York. It certainly has been a difficult life so far for Joe Buck (Jon Voight), currently washing dishes in a greasy spoon café. Having saved for new cowboy boots he sets out on a long-distance bus believing New York and ‘rich ladies’ in particular, are waiting for a handsome cowboy stud like Joe. Inevitably he is the naïve rube in the city and is quickly reduced to hustling – which leads him to meet Ritso or ‘Ratso’ (Dustin Hoffman). The pair become an odd couple who attempt to survive a New York winter and then to head for Florida and warmth with tragic results.
Allan Hunter’s definition of ‘New Hollywood’ is based on slightly different ideas than mine I think. Whereas both Alice’s Restaurant and Medium Cool were, in their different ways, offering something new and in the rest of the strand Easy Rider certainly shook up the industry, I think most of the other selections were mainstream films made in the classical manner. True, Voight and Hoffman, when they made Midnight Cowboy, were not yet Hollywood stars and Hunter told us that Schlesinger was able to film them on the street without turning heads. And in the sense that this was a film without established stars it was certainly a surprise that it won so many awards. I’m not arguing that it didn’t deserve them. It still comes across as a very well-made and enjoyable film and I was surprised how much I remembered from it. It also has the benefit of the Nilsson song ‘Everybody’s Talkin’ as part of a memorable soundtrack and the little bits of ‘business’, concocted by Hoffman in particular, still work. On the other hand, Schlesinger was already the director of four major UK films, one of which, Darling, won 3 Oscars in 1965. He would go to make four more major pictures in the 1970s but all were mainstream features. The film was also a literary adaptation of James Leo Herlihy’s novel which first appeared in 1965. Herlihy had also written plays and an earlier novel All Fall Down (1960) that became a 1962 film for John Frankenheimer. Herlihy, like Schlesinger was a man of the 1950s and 1960s and not part of the New Hollywood as such. His Wikipedia entry states that he attended Black Mountain College, where Arthur Penn had once studied and later he would appear as an actor in one of Penn’s late films, Four Friends 1981.
But does Midnight Cowboy fit the ‘End of Innocence’. I’m not convinced. Most of the attempts to categorise the changes in Hollywood in the 1950s and 1960s, as the studios declined and the brief interregnum when some offbeat and ‘counter-culture’ influenced films got into mainstream distribution in the 1970s, are problematic. There are no simple cut-off points or starting points. No single film marked the boundary. I would argue that Hollywood changed over a ten-year period from the mid sixties to the mid 70s. Hollywood shrank, most films got smaller. Directors became more important but then films got bigger again and they were sold to audiences more efficiently again. Perhaps the only boundaries are those associated with the so-called ‘Movie Brats’. Francis Ford Coppola made his first mainstream feature You’re a Big Boy Now in 1966 and Stephen Spielberg directed Jaws, one of the first films to have a major national marketing campaign and a wide release building across the summer in 1975. Midnight Cowboy is just one of a number of enjoyable and interesting films that came out in that ten-year period. It could also be approached as a ‘buddy movie’, a film about two men which became a genre staple around this time
The print we watched was a DCP from Park Circus. GFT1 is listed as 2K digital projection.
This was the fourth Francophone film I saw in Glasgow that was directed by a woman and explored the possibilities of the family melodrama. Although in many ways a conventional narrative, there were several interesting facets of its setting and the screening was followed by a lively Q&A. The film is credited to Salima Glamine and Dimitri Linder as co-writers and directors of their first feature and in the Q&A Salima spoke first while Dimitri had one baby in his arms and another toddler having fun running around. The Q&A chair and the interpreter managed very well. Salima described herself as Algerian-French and the central character of the film is 17 year-old Amel played by Sofia Lesaffre as the daughter of a single-parent Algerian taxi driver (Pascal Elbe). I don’t remember any reference to Amel’s mother. Amel’s high school friends include a tearaway white girl Chloë (Salomé Dewaels)and Sima (Arsha Iqbal), a Pakistani girl from a traditional family. At the family wedding feast for Sima’s oldest brother we get the first inkling that Amel knows Mashir (Christopher Zeerak), Sima’s other brother who is 22.
Amel and Mashir have a secret relationship and they plan to find a way to escape family scrutiny by each separately moving to London. Amel tries to get a post as an au pair and Mashir is a computer engineer with prospects. All appears to be going well until the arrival of Mashir’s cousin, Noor (Atiya Rashid) who has been living in Berlin. She too joins the same high school class as Amel who tries to make her welcome. Noor believes that she will be able to marry a young man in Berlin, but now her parents are in Brussels and in contact with Mashir’s family there are all kinds of dangers as the inevitable meeting of parents prompts thoughts about a marriage between cousins.
‘For a Happy Life’ is a title that describes the dilemma for all concerned – how to act in such a way that everyone is happy. That’s probably not always possible, but some actions might be more damaging than others. Amel is clearly the character out on a limb. Fortunately Sofia Lesaffre gives a spirited performance in this lead role and her energy drives the film through its 85 minutes, ensuring a full-blown family melodrama. It’s no surprise that she strides around in her bright red jacket. I found the film intriguing and enjoyable, but I had lots of questions about the Pakistani community in Brussels, wondering how life for second generation teenagers might compare to that of young South Asians in Bradford.
Salima Glamine suggested that they simply chose the Pakistani community as a traditional community that might be threatened by interaction with a young woman like Amel. She explained that when she discovered there weren’t that many actors within the Belgian (or Parisian) Pakistani communities she used social media to find non-professionals who were prepared to join the cast. Only Javed Khan who plays Noor’s father was a professional actor (he has appeared in a number of Indian and British films. Since I don’t speak or understand French or Urdu well enough to detect accents I have no idea how the various family members in the film sound. The film seems to have gone down well with Belgian audiences and critics and it won both the audience and critics’ prizes at the Namur Francophone Film Festival. Nobody at the Glasgow screening mentioned the accents so I’m none the wiser on that score.
The film was presented in CinemaScope and I was impressed with its handling of a young romance and of the importance of social media in the lives of the young women in particular. There are shocks in the film and one is when a mobile phone is thrown out of a speeding car window. Needless to say the phone’s owner is soon seen ‘unboxing’ a new iPhone. In some ways, social media and traditional families don’t mix –things can happen too quickly and secrets can become known everywhere in a matter of seconds. It’s a far cry from the novels of the 19th century with hand-written letters and the reading of wills which seemed so important in generating melodrama presentations in theatre and early cinema adaptations. This is a first feature but Salima is an experienced actor and Dimitri has been a production manager on several high-profile Belgian films and I don’t think the film feels like a début directing effort.
Salima and Dimitri had worked before with youth groups in Paris and Brussels and we learned that so far it has been shown to around 5,000 teen agers in Belgium. It was important that the film’s ending has the suggestion of a future for the characters so many young audiences were asking for a sequel. One questioner, from Brussels, said he knew the Anderlecht area of the city very well but he wasn’t aware of the problems about arranged marriages which he ‘d noted were much more likely to be discussed in the British media. Salima’s response, that the community in Brussels is ‘first generation’ and more concerned about children ‘marrying out’ of the community, seems to make sense. Someone else asked if the actors raised any questions about being represented as the Pakistanis we saw in the film. Salima suggested that they did discuss the characters with the actors who suggested minor changes in the details but they were quite happy with the ‘core’ events of the story.
This is the kind of film we should see from Belgium in cinemas or on TV. My impression is that there are many interesting films about migration and the experiences of mixed communities coming from a range of European countries and we should be engaged with these issues in the UK. This is another reason why Brexit seems such a bad idea.
Here is a trailer in French (with French subs for the Urdu)
It’s become clear in the last few years that Indian Independent films or ‘Hindies’ – as well as what might be called ‘New Bollywood’ films – still struggle to find the best way to get onto the international film festival circuit and to interest buyers in overseas territories. Mainstream commercial pictures from the larger Indian language cinemas generally have their own overseas distribution systems. My local multiplex regularly shows Tamil, Malayalam, Punjabi and Urdu films alongside Bollywood, but I have much less chance to see the indies. Occasionally one or two pop up in UK festivals and when I spotted Bhonsle in the Glasgow programme, I was determined to get to see it.
Writer-director Devashish Makhija and the film’s star Manoj Bajpayee first made a short film together a few years ago while trying to find the funding to make Bhonsle which now appears as produced by Indie Muviz, although I’m fairly sure the credits suggested that Bajpayee himself had a production input. Makhija’s first two features were both very well received.
The film begins with a long title sequence in which we see the construction and painting/dressing of a clay Ganesha idol for the local celebration of Ganesh Chaturthi – something which formed the centrepiece of Manjeet Singh’s Mumbai Kings (India 2012). In Bhonsle, the preparations are intercut with a sequence in which a police officer gradually strips himself of his uniform and emerges in simple white clothes. We also see a farewell that marks the moment of his retirement from the police force, but we get the sense that his retirement is not something he really wants and he asks for consideration of an extension to his employment. There is clearly meant to be a link between the religious celebration and this man’s retirement. This is a film that generally shows rather than tells and over the next two hours plus we have to work out some things for ourselves. Reading the film requires some knowledge of Indian geography and culture and some of the (limited) commentary on the film from non-Indians seems to get a few things wrong. I’m not sure I understand everything, so please correct me if I’m wrong.
Eventually we realise that the retired police officer is ‘Bhonsle’. In fact he is ‘Ganpati Bhonsle’. Ganpatai is another name for Ganesha. I’m not sure if Bhonsle actually carries this as a family name or whether it is simply a name to link him to Ganesha. Either way, he is the oldest man in the ‘Churchill Chawl’, one of small housing blocks in Mubai, and he is in some ways the respected elder although he now keeps himself much to himself and is gently mocked by some of the younger men. The chawl is not a peaceful place. Mumbai has long been the land of dreams for migrants from across India and now Biharis from North East India are coming to live in some of the cramped rooms. A local hothead Vilas (Santosh Juvekar), a taxi driver, has been recruited by a local politician of a Marathi Nationalist Party to stir up trouble among the Marathi youth (i.e. the local population from Maharashtra). Bhonsle ignores this at first but then discovers he has new neighbours, a Bihari woman Sita (Ipshita Chakraborty Singh) and her young brother Lalu. Bhonsle finds himself, reluctantly at first, standing up for these two against Vilas and the main part of the narrative involves these four characters leading to a chilling climax. All four gibve strong performances and Santosh Juvekar reminded me very much of Nawazuddin Siddiqi in appearance.
The Glasgow programme suggests that this drama is about India’s ‘class structures and racial divides’ and I’ve seen other comments that is about ‘caste differences’. But I think it is simply about prejudice against ‘outsiders’ and something whipped up by India’s current populist politics which in other cases are indeed nationalist/regionalist or religious/communal. Biharis are a sizeable minority in Maharashtra, as are many other groups who have migrated to Mumbai from other parts of India. Sita is a nurse and in terms of social class presumably on a par with Bhonsle.
The first part of the film in particular has a very slow pace. We spend quite a long time watching Bhonsle come to terms with what it is going to be like getting old and decrepit and lonely in his cramped room. At one point we are offered a dream sequence, in effect a series of images of the room falling into decrepitude. The cinematography by Jingmet Wangchuck a graduate from the Film and TV Institute of India in 2011 is one of the important elements of the film’s look alongside the soundtrack by Mangesh Dhakde and editing by Shweta Vengkat (who has worked on several notable ‘Hindies’ such as Newton and Gangs of Wasseypur).
The pacing speeds up for the remainder of the narrative once the interaction with Sita and Lalu begins. I enjoyed the film and I was always engaged. The ending is shocking with a brutal scene brilliantly photographed in an enclosed space. I do wonder though about whether the narrative is stretched out too far. 132 minutes, though not long by Indian standards, could be tightened up a little to attract international buyers. Others disagree I know.
Here is an excellent interview (in English) with the director Devashish Makhija at the Busan International Film Festival in South Korea in which he explains his personal reasons for making Bhonsle.
This short feature (80 mins) sees the Japanese auteur of ‘cyberpunk cinema’, Tsukamoto Shin’ya, exploring what he can do with the chanbara or swordfight film. This follows on from his previous film, Fires on the Plain (2014), a remake of Ichikawa Kon’s classic anti-war film from 1959. There is certainly a possible connection between this new film and its predecessor.
The film opens with the forging of a katana, the classic samurai sword, shown in close-up. We then meet the central character, a young ronin or ‘masterless samurai’, Mokunoshin (Itematsu Sosuke). He appears to be working for a farmer in his rice paddy and in his free moments sparring with the farmer’s adolescent son, with both using wooden staffs rather than swords. They are being watched by the boy’s sister Yu (Aoi Yu) when a pair of older samurai enter the village, engaged in some kind of duel. The victorious samurai is Sawamura (played by the director himself). Tsukamoto often appears in his own films but although I recognised him it wasn’t until later that I realised that he played a secondary role in Martin Scorsese’s remake of The Silence (US-Mexico-Japan 2016).
In the first section of the film I found myself wondering when the film was meant to be set. As far as I could see there were no markers of the era and no dialogue exchanges that suggested when. Kurosawa Akira’s jidaigeki or ‘period films’ included some, like Seven Samurai (1954) set in the late 16th century or early 17th century, but most of the ‘samurai films’, as they are known in the West were far more conventional and formulaic and tended to be set in the latter days of the 250 year Tokugawa shogunate, the so-called Edo period. All the reviews of Killing from Venice and Toronto suggest that it is indeed an early 19th century setting. Presumably this info was in the Press Notes. The Glasgow programme suggests that Tsukamoto was ‘inspired by Kurosawa’. Hmm!
Sawamura tells Mokunoshin that he is on his way to Edo and that he is trying to recruit samurai to fight for the Shogun against rebels in Kyoto. He offers the young samurai the chance to join him and Mokunoshin agrees. The farmer’s son also wants to join and Sawamura agrees to take him as a reserve, convinced by watching the sparring between the two young men. The second ‘inciting incident’ is the arrival on the edge of the village of a group of bandits. This heavily-armed and gruesome-looking group are probably not samurai but rather ruffians with plenty of experience of fighting. Do we anticipate a battle with three against many? I won’t spoil the narrative as the film looks set for a UK release via Third Window Films, but what underpins the final section is a philosophical question posed by Sawamura and aimed at Mokunoshin. A samurai sword is intended for killing. Can a man really be a samurai if he has not used his sword to kill? Mokunoshin is a young man beset by several problems, questions of honour and gratitude towards the farmer’s family, the raging hormones of a young man living close to an attractive woman and strong feelings about how to fight.
The action in the last section of the film is shot in almost expressionistic style with flashing blades, hand-held photography and the action itself something of a blur. A set piece fight under a natural bridge on a muddy path is contrasted with a chase up a hillside in the long grass and bracken and beneath the trees (the vivid greens of the forest clearings and paddy fields define the background while the samurai are presented in more mute colours). The film screened at both Venice and Toronto last year. It seemed to please critics but some raised questions about whether it would please fans of the director or fans of the genre. It’s a low-budget film made quickly but with verve and a music soundtrack by Ishikawa Chu (his last film before he died). I enjoyed the film and it’s good that there can still be new takes on the chanbara. I think I still prefer Kurosawa and the other filmmakers of the 1950s and 1960s. Tsukamoto is reported as saying his inspiration was partly Ichikawa Kon’s 1973 film The Wanderers, a film I saw on its release in the UK back in 1973. Perhaps I’ll try to find it and watch it again.
Level 16 is an SF thriller, directed by Danishka Esterhazy. SF/science fiction/horror is one of the strengths of Anglophone Canadian cinema and since I’m keen to see SF and Canadian films, especially by women, it seemed an obvious choice for me to book. What I hadn’t realised was that this screening was at the beginning of the first full day of ‘FrightFest’ as a festival within the main festival. Sitting on the front row (numbered seating instead of the usual unreserved) in a jam-packed GFT1 was a new experience. I’ve never seen so many cinemagoers in black T-shirts together before. This was all generally good fun but the announcements and promos and a short film extended the running time of the slot considerably. When I finally escaped the theatre I discovered that I had 1 minute before my next (2 hours plus) feature. That’s not good!
Level 16 was preceded by a short video welcome/introduction by Danishka Esterhazy on a recording (she’s currently shooting in Hawaii) and she told us that this was a film inspired to some extent by her own schooling. She must have had a grim time. The film is set in the very near future or alternative present and focuses on a group of teenage girls in a mysterious boarding school. They are never allowed out of their windowless rooms on the grounds that the air/light outside will damage their skin. Each day they are put through rituals of learning about appropriate behaviour for young ladies, but not much conventional academic learning. They wear long concealing dresses and take medication each day (described as vitamins). They are taught via TV screens, old ‘public service’ films and Hollywood classics. Each girl is named after a classic Hollywood beauty and the two central characters are ‘Vivien’ and ‘Sophia’. The only two adults they see most of the time are the tall, glamorous blonde Miss Brixil and the seemingly kindly Dr Miro. But if they are punished, the girls are taken away by black-clad ‘guards’ and put in ‘solitary’. If they are obedient the girls gradually progress to the next ‘level’ and when they reach ‘Level 16’ they believe that prospective adoptive parents/employers are going to select them to live in beautiful homes. These visitors come to see the girls who are presented in a drug-induced sleep. However, it is inevitable that one day a girl is going to rebel and avoid the medication. Once she realises what is happening will she be able to convince the others who, after years of indoctrination and drug regimes are likely to be resistant? Is it possible for the girls to act collectively given their histories?
The ‘prison break’ or POW escape offers another genre repertoire from which to draw alongside the girls school, horror and SF repertoires, but it means that the pacing and tone of the narrative changes significantly in the final section. Up until the last five minutes I thought the film worked well but I found the ending rushed and unconvincing. However, the large audience of ‘fright fans’ seemed to be appreciative. Certainly, it is an intelligent film which uses its limited budget effectively. The performances from the four principal actors, all experienced in Canadian TV and film, are very effective. I was intrigued to read about Danishka Esterhazy’s background as a member of the Winnipeg Film Group and her frustration to try to get this film made as set out in an interview on the SYFY Wire website. The long struggle took around ten years with familiar problems in finding funding for this ‘feminist dystopian thriller’ with a whole catalogue of sexist assumptions about what should be in a film like this and how the girls should be presented. In the meantime, Esterhazy made other features that were more attractive to funders, including as she describes it:
a Brontë novel, but set in Canada. Which I thought was like, ‘You think my sci-fi film’s weird, my Canadian Brontë film is really weird!’
That Brontë reference is also an indicator of the kind of research Esterhazy undertook since Level 16 benefits from a study of Victorian etiquette books and ideas about how young women should behave. I think that Level 16 would be an interesting film to show to students, because of the way it confounds that array of assumptions (e.g. teenage girls won’t watch SF, women don’t direct SF, there needs to be a romance etc.). It also offers a useful comparison with more traditional SF films on similar topics such as the two Stepford Wives films and something like Never Let Me Go (UK-US 2010) with its much higher cultural status. The success of The Handmaid’s Tale on TV probably helps as well.
This was one of my real ‘finds’ at Glasgow. It is the first fiction feature of the documentary filmmaker Marta Bergman and was selected as one of the candidates for the ‘Audience Award’ competition. It’s not hard to see why. Marta Bergman was in attendance and she proved a fascinating guest. Alone at My Wedding was screened in the ‘ACID’ (Association for the Distribution of Independent Cinema) programme at Cannes in 2018. This programme features films that might have difficulty finding a distributor and currently this film is looking for distribution via the sales company Cercamon.
Marta Bergman, originally from Bucharest, studied at film school in Belgium and then returned to Romania to make documentaries. This first fiction feature has taken several years to make and clearly draws on the documentary experience. It mixes professional and non-professional actors. The narrative is relatively straightforward. Pamela (Alina Serban) is a single mother in her twenties living with her toddler Rebeca and her grandmother in a Roma community in a village on the outskirts of Bucharest. She has to find ways of earning money to buy food and decides eventually that the only way to survive is to find a rich husband via the internet. This isn’t easy (and requires her to raise money for the fees) but eventually, through an agency, she makes contact with Bruno (Tom Vermeir) in Brussels and agrees to fly to Belgium. She leaves Rebeca behind with her grandmother and tries to make a new life for herself in Brussels, sending the money Bruno gives her home to Romania. I won’t spoil what happens to her (and Rebeca) but I will say that Marta Bergman tells a human story in which some good things happen and Pamela is frustrated in her attempts to ‘get ahead’. Bruno is not a typical man who orders a ‘mail-order bride’, but even when it is clear that he wants the best for Pamela it doesn’t necessarily mean their relationship will work. There are Roma in Brussels and Pamela finds them easily enough. Meanwhile, things are happening in Bucharest where Marian (who might be the baby’s father) is concerned about Rebeca.
The film succeeds partly because Alina Serban is a terrific actor and a bubbling vivacious personality. She appears younger than her 30 years as listed on IMDb and she lives up to the database description of an ‘award-winning actor, playwright and director’. Marta Bergman told us that Alina was primarily a theatre actor but she does have previous film and TV experience. Tom Vermeir is also a theatre actor and he had to develop his Brussels French after working in Flemish theatre. Bergman’s documentary background is evident in the way she makes use of small gestures, some of which have come from observation of families in Bucharest. For instance, early in the film we see Pamela trudging through the snow with a bucket of water because her home has no running water. Later in Bruno’s flat she often leaves the water running, holding her fingers under the flow, revelling in its availability.
I enjoyed this film very much and I hope it gets a UK release. I’d like to show it to students and in the current Brexit climate it provides a powerful story about ‘living abroad’. If I have one slight criticism, it might be that at around 2 hours the film might be too long. By this I don’t mean that the material doesn’t warrant the length – there is more I would want to know – but that perhaps a slightly shorter, tighter narrative might appeal more to distributors? Having said that, I heartily recommend the film as it stands.
Rojo is a meticulously scripted and played mystery drama/thriller. It is calm and ‘dry’ with touches of humour but beneath the surface is a commentary on one of the darkest periods of Argentina’s history. The time is around 1975 and the setting is a provincial town. The opening scene offers a static camera watching the door of an unremarkable house in a quiet street. Over the next few minutes someone will open the door and come out carrying a household item like a wall-clock or a mirror. Perhaps some kind of house clearance sale is taking place indoors? In the next scene a man is sitting at his table in a restaurant waiting for his wife to arrive before ordering his food. A second man comes into the restaurant and starts arguing with the waiter because no tables are free. The argument will then include the man waiting for his wife who eventually feels obliged to give up his table before the newcomer starts any more trouble. But still the man who has lost his table can’t resist from criticising the other man for being boorish and morally degraded. We suspect that this might not work out well in the long-term.
These two scenes set up the tone of the narrative very well and I won’t spoil the plot any further since the film will appear in both the UK and US and presumably in the other co-producing countries after some successful festival appearances. This is the third film by the rising Argentinian auteur Benjamín Naishtat after a début as one of several directors on the compendium film Historias Breves 5 (Argentina 2009). Rojo appears to be a step up with the casting of two well-known actors. The man waiting for his wife in the restaurant is Claudio, a local lawyer played by Darío Grandinetti, who is probably best known to UK audiences for his roles in Pedro Almodóvar’s Talk to Me (2002) and Julieta (Spain 2016) plus the Argentinian comedy-drama Wild Tales (Argentina-Spain 2014). Claudio exudes ‘respectability’ and possibly the sense of someone who thinks he is more sophisticated and cultured/educated than he is in reality. He is the narrative’s central character and he isn’t really prepared for what is going to happen to him. Later on he will be up against a private detective, ‘Sinclair’, who was once a real policeman and then a TV detective. This character is played by the Chilean actor Alfredo Castro, perhaps best-known to European audiences for his roles in films for Pablo Larraín.
In small provincial towns, everybody knows everybody else and anything unusual gets talked about. But this also generates a concern about other people knowing your business and can lead to forms of paranoia. This is what suffuses Rojo. I do wonder how the film will fare on release outside Argentina. UK audiences seemed to get on very well with the original version of the The Secret in their Eyes (Argentina-Spain 2009), but that was a film scripted like an American thriller. Rojo requires a modicum of knowledge about Argentina’s political history – and a willingness to think about possible symbols and metaphors. The title simply means ‘red’ in Spanish but in the 1970s it might have referred to suspected communists.
Rojo has been acquired by New Wave, one of the best UK distributors for foreign language films. I suspect that this is a film that some people will love and others may leave the screening still puzzled. All the same, I’d urge you to go and see it. The trailer below gives a few more clues to what the film is about but not too many.