Another film festival another Nordic film about grief – see Koko-di Koko-da. However Dogs Don’t Wear Pants doesn’t quite play out as expected. After a brilliant intro when protagonist Juha (Pekka Strang) is traumatised by loss, the narrative moves on a decade or so to find him still unable to function socially. He stumbles into a commercial BDSM dungeon and thinks he finds a way to reconnect with his loss.
Spoiler alert! It seems the film is going to suggest that Juha can be cured of his grief by his relationship with a dominatrix, Mona (Krista Kosonen), in the sense that it will take him to the ‘edge’ and so will recognise that his life is worth living after all. (Incidentally, Krista Kosonen’s appearance and icy demeanour reminded me of Major Kusanaga from Ghost in the Shell). However, co-writer and director J.-P. Valkeapää makes it far more interesting as he suggests the ‘perversions’ are actually potentially better than a bourgeois lifestyle; the moment Juha makes a key decision we are given a close-up of his discarded watch, a symbol of conspicuous consumption.
As is appropriate, many of the scenes are excruciating to watch (having had a tooth removed recently didn’t help my experience) though not sexually titillating. The widescreen compositions are often gorgeous, enhanced by the lurid lighting of the BDSM den. Characters are sometimes framed as if in the margins by doorways further enhancing the psychological position of the characters.
Juha has a young daughter, Elli; the intro is an inversion of Don’t Look Now‘s (UK-Italy, 1973) with the mother as the victim. A narrative strand deals with Elli’s ‘coming of age’ but it doesn’t investigate her trauma and my sympathies were more with her than her dad. She starts a relationship with a boy of her age but this, too, is fragmentary. Similarly, Mona’s motivation for her lifestyle is under-developed: on the one hand it could be argued she doesn’t need one, on the other, because she also seems to be traumatised given her tearful breakdown toward the end of the film, we do need an explanation. Also, I’m not sure the title works particularly well, as its quirkiness does not sum up the film. I also get sense that the male character development is deemed to be the important trajectory, whilst the females are ‘sounding boards’. I’m not saying all films have to be even-handed in terms of gender representation but because Dogs hints at backstories for the women it should develop them more.
Despite these criticisms, when the film is released (apparently September 2020 in the UK), if you’re not too squeamish, I recommend a viewing.
This film was confusingly re-titled The Candidate for its limited UK release in August 2019. LIFF director Chris Fell introduced the screening, explaining that the film was screened as one of the three nominations for the LUX European Film Award. We received some LUX information and Chris reminded us that one of the other two nominees, God Exists, Her Name is Petrunya (North Macedonia 2019) had already been screened twice in the festival – and had been recommended to me.
The Realm begins with what seems to be a Goodfellas steal. A man in a suit walks off a beach into the kitchen of a restaurant, picks up a plate of ‘red shrimp’ and carries it through to a table in a private room in the restaurant. The camera races along behind this swiftly moving character and when he sits down to eat it swings around the other diners and then rapidly cuts between them. They are all talking nineteen to the dozen and at one point mocking a politician on the large TV screen on the wall, all the while stuffing themselves with expensive food and drink. The combination of camerawork, dialogue and performance makes watching this opening scene a dizzying experience as the subtitles fly past. As a Spanish-speaking friend observed, even he found it hard to follow.
It took me perhaps the first half an hour of a 2 hour plus film to fully realise what was happening. The restaurant group includes politicians and various investors/developers who have all been part of a scheme to profit from European Union monies which has been illegally used in rezoning land to sell to developers. Corruption in local/regional government has made these people very rich. The central character is Manuel (‘Manu’), a self-made man who after 15 years has risen to a position where he expects to be nominated as a ‘Regional Vice-President’ of his party on the way to a national profile. As played by Antonio de la Torre, Manu is a short man with an energetic and aggressive attitude, There is an element of what in the UK would be a ‘chip on his shoulder’, a feeling that because he didn’t complete his degree, some of his colleagues might look down on him. He has also ‘married up’ as his wife reminds him. Inés (Mónica López) is taller than her husband. He reminded me of a kind of caricature Football League manager or certain kinds of Tory politician – the Spanish political party is not named and neither is the region though Andalucia seems a good bet. Valencia is also listed as a location.
Manu’s insecurity is important because as soon as somebody ‘talks’ to the police about the corruption, his world begins to collapse and he soon realises that there are very few people he can trust. The film’s strength is the way in which director Rodrigo Sorogyen (who also co-wrote the film with regular writing partner Isabel Peña) gradually forces us to identify with this repulsive man and to become complicit in the corruption as he fights back against both his colleagues and potentially the even bigger beasts in Madrid. This is clearly the point of the film which ends with a speech by a TV journalist. The speech (and the whole TV studio scenario) reminded me in some ways of the famous tirade by Peter Finch at the end of Network (US 1976), not so much because of the content of that speech but more the sense that broadcast media is part of the same capitalist conspiracy. I can’t really discuss what is actually said without spoiling the thriller element of the film and the last half an hour is certainly thrilling.
In an interview for Cineuropa, Sorgyen and Peña suggest that rather than provocatively suggesting corruption might happen, they were instead responding to what Spanish citizens were already discussing: “we took the risk of talking about this issue because society is more and more ready for it”.
I should watch the film again and try to decipher the opening. The performances, the use of locations and the camerawork are fabulous. The techno score which many people seem to love nearly drove me insane. Perhaps I’m just past it music-wise but it seemed unnecessary – the film was exciting enough without the overkill. The UK distributor for the film, Signature Entertainment, put it into a single cinema on August 2nd and took £1,065 over the weekend. The DVD and Digital download were released on the same day. I don’t think Signature have much experience of foreign language titles, most of the films on their website look like genre fare with occasional American indies and several English-language European films. Most releases follow this cross platform release pattern. Why wasn’t this film picked up by a specialist arthouse distributor?
After the screening somebody suggested that it was like watching “Borgen on speed”. I can see that and in fact this kind of political/business thriller fuelled a couple of series of the Danish serial Follow the Money and the structure and mix of elements does feel a bit like a Scandinavian drama. It seems it should be on digital download so I suggest you search on streaming services checking all three versions of the title to find it. A strong cup of coffee to make sure you are caffeinated for the opening 30 minutes is advised.
The Wild Goose Chase was in competition at Cannes in 2019. I think that the Cannes competition place was won because this is a French co-production of the fourth film of writer-director Diao Yinan, a filmmaker who began as a writer for the Sixth Generation director Zhang Yang in the 1990s soon after his graduation from drama school in Beijing.
His previous film, the thriller Black Coal, Thin Ice (China 2014) won the Golden Bear at Berlin and was released in the UK. I’m sorry I missed it. This new film is described in the French press notes as a polar and US critics have described it as a film noir, but I’m grateful for the press notes in which director’s own statement suggests a hybrid of polar and wu xia (martial chivalry film). He refers to that rather wonderfully envisaged concept of the jianghu or ‘marginal world’ where things and people are not quite what they seem. I think I remember this concept as worked out in A Chinese Ghost Story (Hong Kong 1987) and The Bride With White Hair (Hong Kong 1993) both featuring the much-missed Leslie Cheung. The polar provides the battle between police and criminals and the jianghu describes the ‘marginal world’ in which the action takes place. As Diao himself puts it, the police are not in uniform, they are disguised in this night-time world where all kinds of things can happen, especially on the misty lake and in the chaotic backstreets of the town.
The film begins with a meeting at an underpass beneath a railway station on a dark and wet night. The central character Zhou Zenong (Hu Ge) is waiting for his wife, but a mysterious woman Liu Aiai (Kwei Lun-Mei) in a slinky red top appears and tells Zhou that she has been sent instead. Several flashbacks will then reveal why this meeting is taking place before the narrative moves into the inevitable noir/polar ending. I must confess that I found some of the jumps in time between sequences slightly bewildering so I’m having difficulty trying to discern a linear story. I don’t think that would worry the director. He suggests that he is more interested in ‘movement’ through the dark world than a psychological study of the ‘doomed man’ and the femme fatale. The opening is in fact quite slow but things soon speed up, moving into a series of sometimes surreal and always fascinating set pieces and chase sequences. Diao suggests that each of them has a basis in reality – a news story or something he himself had noticed. One sequence presents a ‘conference’ of local criminal gangs, meeting for a demonstration of how to steal motorbikes and a subsequent re-organisation of territories for each gang. But the aspect of the film that really caught my attention were the scenes on the ‘Wild Goose Lake’ itself where prostitutes posing as swimming beauties ply their trade. I can think of a few American films noirs where a couple are in a small boat on the water in the fog, but the most striking image I remember is the boat trip in Mizoguchi Kenji’s Ugetsu Monogatari (1953).
At points the film becomes a police procedural but the central plotline focuses on the large reward offered for Zhou’s capture. Zhou himself decides that if anyone is to get the money it will be his wife and child. But how can he ensure that this happens and who can he trust?
The key to the unusual locations is the regional setting of the film in Wuhan, a major city region and large urban sprawl in Hubei province. Diao searched for locations around the many lakes in a 200 km radius from the centre of Wuhan on the Yangtse River. He then decided to use local Wuhan dialect rather than standard Mandarin. Kwei is Taiwanese and she had to learn the dialect, as did Hu Ge. Most of the large cast are local actors or non-professionals. The production must have been relatively expensive because of the many nights (50) of shooting complicated action scenes. It seems strange that Diao would create a film for which most Chinese audiences would need subtitles. The international audience will have subtitles anyway and won’t appreciate the local dialect. So is this a rare hybrid genre-art film. Obviously this works for the South Korean auteurs such as Bong Joon-ho or Park Chan-wook, but their films are blockbusters at home as well as arthouse/specialised hits abroad. From the Unifrance website (all French films listed) it looks like the film could be distributed in the UK by MUBI so I’ll be watching out for it on my stream and hoping it gets into at least a few cinemas.
I’ve enjoyed researching the film and I think now that I’m beginning to understand a bit more. There are some extremely violent incidents (which are also quite unusual) to go alongside the surreal sequences. Overall the film is exciting and fascinating for anyone interested in Chinese cinema and that distinctive blend of Chinese and French crime genre ideas. I’m intrigued to see that this has now become an aspect of mainland cinema. I’d be interested to know what HK filmmakers like Johnnie To make of this film. Which brings me to Hu Ge. He is quite distinctive as a tall Chinese whose looks certainly equip him for the role. One review I saw suggested that he had a presence like Robert Mitchum in RKO noirs. I’m not sure that is quite right, but he does reming me of other actors in crime noirs. This is definitely a film to look out for.
My first screening at this year’s Leeds International Film Festival proved to be a treat. At festivals I tend to choose films that fit with the time I have available rather than choosing specific titles. Whilst this is not necessarily the best way to select viewings, if I had read the synopsis about this film (‘the gentle nocturnal odyssey of a cleaning lady through the streets of Brussels’) I might have demurred. In the event the film was a riveting journey that inverted the usual representation of the night as a place of threat.
Saadia Bentaïeb plays Khadija beautifully, the cleaning woman who falls asleep on the last metro and hasn’t the money to get a taxi home so has to walk. The picaresque narrative allows us to meet some denizens of the dark who are, of course, ordinary people. Writer-director Bas Devos chooses not to laden these encounters with significance, though it’s not without social comment. The image above of the tropical island is an advert that tells Khadija to ‘get lost’; it’s a brilliant double entendre for we can assume that she could never afford to visit such a place on holiday.
Cinematographer Grimm Vandekerckhove manages to make the dark city streets look fascinating; out of focus coloured lights (for example, cars’ brake lights) give an abstract beauty and Devos’ framing is often quite brilliant. In the metro, for example, Khadija seems to be in a small window on a wall and then the train enters the station and we understand our position in relation to her. It’s a way defamiliarising the night, just as its representation of the dark defies expectations. It’s shot on 16mm and, unsurprisingly given the light levels, is very grainy which works perfectly well except occasionally it appears to be pouring with rain such is the grain.
I was confused by a couple of things. Near the start Khadija’s at a jovial meeting where Congo is mentioned; suggesting the tropics and I wasn’t clear what was going on. And at the end, there’s a (presumably) fantasy sequence on a tropical beach, like the one in the ad: is it her younger self we see or her daughter, who she encounters on her journey home, in the future? On the soundtrack we occasionally hear (the sound design is quite brilliant – Boris Debackere) tropical birds and there is a ‘magic realist’ moment concerning a dog. My uncertainty about these scenes certainly didn’t detract from the film and ensured we understood Devos’ intention wasn’t as a documentarian.
Incidentally the film had the best credits at the end: a blank black screen, apart from ‘A film by’ in the top left hand corner, is then filled with names with gaps in between them. The gaps are then populated, one at a time, with the role the person took. Yes, a film is made by everyone involved.
It’s time for the Leeds International Film Festival again and this Finnish film is a solid if low-key drama that doesn’t fall too far into simple feelgood territory. There was something about the production package which seemed vaguely familiar but as I hadn’t researched the film before the screening I didn’t realise that this comes from the same team that made the Finnish-Estonian film The Fencer in 2015 with director Klaus Härö, writer Anna Heinämaa and cinematographer Tuomo Hutri.
One Last Deal is based on a familar dramatic scenario with a central character study. Olavi (Heikki Nousiainen) is an art dealer hanging on, beyond retirement age, to his rented shop premises in central Helsinki. Like many people in their 70s reflecting on what they have achieved over a long life, he hankers after ‘one last deal’ that might justify his long struggle in the art world. He’s a widower and he hasn’t kept up with technological change, allowing himself to become a curmudgeonly old man with only one real friend, a younger dealer facing similar problems but doing slightly better in his shop in the face of online competition.
Around the same time that Olavi comes across an item in an auction sale that seems to be undervalued, he gets a call from his daughter Lea (Pirjo Lonka), now divorced and with a teenage son Otto (Amos Brotherus). She wants her father to take her son on work experience. Can the curmudgeon cope with the idea of a bright teenager careering about his gallery? It’s clear that there will be two narrative lines which will come together – the deal and the family tensions.
I enjoyed the film and especially the central performance. Helsinki, from the street of galleries and the auction house to the high rise modern luxury hotel and the outskirts where Otto and Lea live, is attractively presented and the search for provenance of the painting that Olavi identifies as a potential ‘last deal’ is intriguing, especially in emphasising the Finnish experience of the influence of Russian culture. It occurs to me now that the narrative is similar to Formentera Lady (Spain 2018) with the grandfather-daughter-grandson triangle and to others I can’t remember the titles of. There is also something similar in terms of family and a work/personal interest tension in The Puzzle (US 2018). All of these family narratives are potential melodramas that are either muted by or enhanced by the other narrative about work/personal interest according to taste. As the various festival reviews suggest this modest but nicely judged 95 minute film could well appeal to audiences. Personally, I think the film might have taken either the family melodrama or the chase for a ‘final deal’ a bit further but Klaus Härö clearly knows how to pitch a film for local and international markets and One Last Deal should satisfy many audiences.