Because the Japan Foundation Film Tour online has proven so popular I just booked whatever was still available. I have since been surprised to discover that the pairs of films I watched seem to have quite specific elements in common. This oddly-titled film has several elements in common with Hello World, although they each have a different appeal. Like the anime, this features an introverted young man who will be surprised to be brought out of himself by a ‘double’ and the twin characters will end up both protecting and in a sense competing for the attention of a young woman. Those are important elements of a narrative, but the two films turn out rather differently. The opening of Our 30-Minute Sessions introduces us to a high school/college band in the process of forming after meeting up at a festival in 2013. There are four guys and a girl. Later the lead singer/ band leader gives the girl a Walkman-type cassette player and a mixtape and then a montage shows the years passing quickly until 2018 when the band are due to perform at the same festival. But an accident means that the bandleader Aki is killed and his Walkman lost. A year later the Walkman is found by Sota, a young man in his last year at university who is struggling to get a job because he always fails to impress at interviews.
When Sota plays the tape on Aki’s Walkman something strange happens. There is no easily discernible sound on the tape but playing it conjures up Aki’s ghost. Sota sees himself as a body occupied by Aki. There are two Sotas, but the real one is invisible to everyone else and the other one accosts Kana, Aki’s girlfriend and fellow band member. When the effect wears off after the C60 cassette has played 30 minutes, Aki’s ghost becomes visible to (only) Sota and Sota regains control of his own body. The title now becomes clear and before I watched the film I had caught a video statement by the director suggesting the narrative idea comes from the fact that recordings on tape are never completely erased and can be recovered, although after they have been played many times they will eventually disappear. If I tell you that the band had broken up following Aki’s death and that Sota has some musical talent as well as channelling Aki’s ghost, you can probably work out the rest of the plot yourself. I don’t need to spoil any more of the narrative.
Our 30-Minute Sessions is an interesting generic mix. The narrative is driven by the idea of the double or doppelganger. I first thought of Stevenson’s Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886) but that is two sides of the same person. A better model might be Dostoyevsky’s The Double (1846) in which a clerk sees a second version of himself. Aki is more socially skilled than Sota but, as a ghost, he needs Sota’s body. Aki is not evil and doesn’t intend to harm Sota. On the contrary he wants to help him. But inevitably Sota is going to be ‘opened up’ by Aki’s behaviour, becoming more confident. While this odd haunting lasts, the two personalties need each other – but Sota has a future, Aki does not. The two main areas of interest are music, getting the band back together, and helping Kana to overcome her grief. This means that we have both a musical and a romance repertoire of generic elements and another genre structure, sometimes called the ‘coming of age’ film – or perhaps the ‘flowering of Sota’s personality’? Director Hagiwara Kentarô’s statement points to the philosophical question about how ideas and statements, feelings etc. don’t just die. They live on if others remember them. In this way the band’s music becomes richer over time as Sota’s creativity adds more layers and stimulates the others while not eradicating Aki’s original creations.
I enjoyed watching this film but I’m not sure how well it would perform outside Japan and its target audience, which I think might be teenage girls. We often think of popular music as linked to ‘sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll’ but we don’t get any of that here. The romance is remarkably chaste. The band members are all attractive and ‘nice’, the music is melodic and generic but a little bland. There is no ‘grit’ apart from a few generic spats within the band. What is also sad, I think, is that Kana is the only female character of note (apart from her mother) and as in Hello World, her part is underwritten. Both Sota and Kana are missing a parent and their single parents are supportive without interfering. Again the film is good to look at, almost like a live action version of a manga. I don’t know where it is set, but it looks a pleasant place to live with familiar images of Japan at peace with the wind rustling through the leaves on the trees. All the performances are good as is the cinematography by Imamura Keisuke. The pacing is a little slow, fine for a serious drama but not for this kind of genre film? The script by Ohshima Satomi just needs a little more spice.
Here is a Japanese trailer (English subs should appear via the CC menu):
I enjoyed Foxfire very much and I’m dismayed at its lack of profile. The film was distributed by Curzon in the UK but I think it must have been in cinemas very briefly as I only managed to catch it on DVD. In the US it was only on streamers I think. Foxfire is adapted from a novel by Joyce Carol Oates that was previously adapted for a 1996 film starring Angelina Jolie. This later film was directed by the French auteur filmmaker Laurent Cantet. Cantet made the film, in English, in Toronto and the smaller cities of Peterborough and Sault Ste. Marie in Ontario. The novel was set in up-state New York in the early 1950s and, as David Cronenberg discovered with A History of Violence (Canada-US 2005), small Canadian towns can sometimes easily be made to look like American towns of the 1950s. It’s a film shot by Cantet’s regular cinematographer Pierre Milon and co-wriitena nd edited by the similarly regular collaborator Robin Campillo. Youth films should have music and Cantet went for original music by Timber Timbre plus a selection of other tracks from the 1950s including Johnny Carroll and His Hot Rocks and Rosco Gordon.
The narrative is set in a small town and for most of the time is ‘narrated’ by Maddy (Katie Coseni) a girl at high school. One night she is surprised by a knock on her bedroom window and the appearance of ‘Legs’, a girl from her school who was sent 100 miles away to live with her grandma because her single father an no longer control her. But Legs (Raven Adamson) has other ideas. She and Maddy form ‘Foxfire’, a secret girls’ society which aims to protect its members and give them succour when the world turns against them. Maddy is an aspiring writer and she decides to chronicle events as the group grows and develops. In the novel, the timeline is disrupted at points as the older Maddy remembers the events of her younger teenage years. Director Cantet and his co-writer Robin Campillo initially tried to adopt the novel’s strategy but eventually decided to present a linear narrative with just Maddy’s voiceover commentary as the most effective cinematic form. I haven’t read the novel or seen the earlier film so I can’t make comparisons. I have, however, seen most of Cantet’s films and simplifying the narrative structure does not mean a conventional treatment of the material. Cantet has strong ideas about an aesthetic but this was the first time that he had tackled a ‘period’ picture.
The Foxfire gang adds new members as various girls in the local school are ‘avenged’ by the gang. The first to really benefit is Rita (Madeleine Bisson) who is the butt of pranks and worse by local youths and whose meek resignation when treated harshly by a teacher enrages the other girls. At first the ‘vengeance’ missions harm only the individual men/boys who have committed abuse of some kind, but gradually, as the group expands, the girls’ actions affect more people in the town and the main gang members are arrested. ‘Legs’ is not chastened by experience of reform school and when she gets out she re-activates the gang, aiming for ‘independence’ by setting up an early form of a commune or women’s refuge (a young married woman joins the group) in an old house on the edge of town. The second half of the narrative is then a study of how the group first comes together with new members and then, inevitably perhaps, begins to break up under the pressure of finding enough money to run and renovate a large old house. A major incident eventually ends everything. A short coda a few years later shows us Maddy sorting through her writings about the group and discussing memories with Rita.
Cantet decided early on not to focus too much on ‘authentic period details’. He had spent much of a Toronto winter searching for mainly non-professionals to play his teenagers and he followed his usual strategy of rehearsing aspects of the narrative quite intensively before filming scenes with at least two cameras running throughout each scene and with his actors trying to play their parts ‘naturally’. The result is not polished but instead is imbued with a sense of spontaneity. We believe in the young women’s resistance to patriarchy and the rigid social conventions of the period. Cantet includes moments when when at least one of the girls reveals her latent racism and encourages others to veto the membership of a young Black woman Legs met in reform school. On the other hand, the group does recognise at least the beginnings of a feminist understanding when they accept a young woman escaping an abusive marriage. There is also an important sub-plot which involves a wealthy upper-class supporter of Legs who displays cunning in using this relationship. Finally, there is an old man who shares his memories and his communist convictions with Legs – something very provocative in Eisenhower’s America.
The US is a country where radicalism exists, but you see it very little officially. The girls in the film are brought to a political consciousness that has a lot of resonance with what’s happening in the heads of young people today. As far as I am concerned, Foxfire is my most political film. (Laurent Cantet quoted in the Guardian, 8/8/2013)
Overall, Foxfire might be a challenge for some audiences in that it runs for 140 minutes without recognisable stars or a generic narrative. By this I mean that scenes don’t necessarily work out as we might expect. Personally, I didn’t find this was a problem and I appreciated the relative longueurs contrasted with some exciting and dramatic sequences. The more I see of Cantet’s work the more interesting I find it.
The Workshop directed and co-written by Laurent Cantet is currently screening on BBC iPlayer until early January. Cantet is a celebrated auteur who won the Cannes Palme d’Or in 2008 for Entre les murs (The Class). He has a distinctive approach to narratives that often create tensions inside groups of people in provocative ways.
The Workshop is inspired by a real event in 1999 when an English novelist was invited to run a writing workshop for young people in the small coastal town of La Ciotat on the French Mediterranean coast between Marseille and Toulon. The workshop featured in a French Cultural TV programme. Cantet thought about making a film at that time but switched to another project, only to return in 2016 and write a script with Robin Campillo, a long time collaborator who in 1999 had worked as an editor on the TV original programme. The new context, during the period when France suffered a series of high profile terror attacks, proved to be stimulating in various ways.
There are several important issues that feed into the social, cultural, economic and political context of the film. La Ciotat is a small town of only around 34,000. It has an important place in film history as the location of the summer residence of the Lumière Brothers. One of the earliest films by the Lumières, L’arrivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat was first shown in February 1896 in Paris. La Ciotat was also a major shipbuilding centre and the first French shipyard to produce steamships in the mid 19th Century using imported British technologies. In the 1970s it became known for the construction of oil tankers and bulk carriers, very large ships, eventually of up to 300,000 tons. In the late 1980s French shipbuilding was ‘rationalised’ and the yard was shut, although the workers campaigned to keep it open. Gradually the town began to focus on tourism and developed a yacht marina. The shipbuilding legacy saw yacht repairs and specialist boatbuilding return with far fewer jobs. Shipbuilding is the ‘heritage’ of the town, supported by local cultural projects, hence the writing workshop – a community-based event. But do the current generation of young people feel connected to the history of the town?
The coastline of the old province of Provence runs from Marseille to the Italian border and offers a mix of the industrial and the touristic with a focus on art and entertainment on the Cote d’Azur as well as the main naval port of Toulon. It figures prominently in French cinema, joyfully in a film like Jules et Jim (1962) and more intriguingly in Godard’s Pierrot le fou (1965). What is important is that as the major French region with ports for direct contact with North Africa, this is also a region with Maghrebi families now into second and third generations as well as the returned settlers after the independence of the French colonies in the Maghreb. So the region has widespread support for Front Nationale/National Rally, whereas de-industrialisation has weakened support for the Socialists and Communists.
Cantet is careful not to provide too much background to the workshop and how the seven young people (four male, three female) were selected. Some have genuine ambitions to be writers, but others may just be bored or pressurised to come by the local job centre or by parents. It is important though that this group is representative of the town in terms of ethnicity, social class and religion. Although it is very much a group, the events push forward Antoine (an outstanding performance by Matthieu Lucci who has since gone on to appear in other film and TV productions). Ironically, Antoine claims that he doesn’t want to speak and feigns disinterest but when he does speak he is provocative and therefore potentially disruptive, but also intelligent and clearly engaged with a range of ideas. At one point he watches a French Armed Forces recruitment video and suggests that he might join the army. France has the largest armed forces in Europe and is active in many parts of the world. There is no conscription in France and instead promotional events and ‘taster’ drives prove effective in recruiting. The prospect of army life as an alternative to the lack of employment openings for young people links L’atelier to films like Les combattants (France 2014) with its central character of a highly educated young woman determined to join up.
Antoine proves to be someone who the novelist Olivia (Marina Foïs), the workshop leader, feels compelled to confront. She finds him mysterious and, perhaps unwisely, decides to engage with him outside the workshop. This gives Cantet the opportunity to develop a possible thriller. I don’t wish to spoil the narrative in any way so I’ll stop there. This is an intelligent film, but one that is complex in terms of what it is exploring – which isn’t the kind of action narrative that mainstream audiences expect. The ending of the film will not satisfy everyone but seemed to me to work very well. I think it’s time to go back and look at some of Laurent Cantet’s other films sitting in my DVD pile.
My final film in this year’s Cheltenham International Film Festival (still available online here) was proably the best; vying with Antigone and Rounds for the accolade. Narratively it’s a conventional ‘coming of age’ story however as it’s set on an Innu reservation in Quebec, the cultural difference is sufficient to make it stand out. Add to that the marvellous central performance of Sharon Fontaine Ishpatao as Mikuan and Myriam Verreault’s confident direction, we get a cracking film. The film’s based on Naomi Fontaine’s impressionistic novel and the ethnically white Verreault ensured that she would be sensitive in adapting the novel through getting to know the Innu community as well as recruiting Fontaine as co-writer.
I’m guessing that the narrative is autobiographical, in general if not in the detail. Orla Smith, at the start of her interview with Fontaine and Verreault, states:
Kuessipan is an Innu word meaning, “It’s your turn.” That sentiment inspired Noami Fontaine’s novel of the same name: living in Quebec, away from the Innu community she was born in, she was confused by white people’s notions that Indigenous Canadians were this strange ‘other’. Fontaine decided it was the Innu people’s turn to tell their own story, and so she wrote Kuessipan.
This Othering of difference that reduces the diversity of a cultural group into a homogenous, and often misunderstood, blob is, of course, a huge problem. One of the functions of art is to get us to understand others and the film does that superbly with its ‘warts and all’ portrayal of thepoverty-stricken reservation life. Ishpatao portrays the vulnerability and strength of her character who is pushing against the limitations of roots and against the way she is seen by white people; she’s in a limbo and so it seems, at times, that she belongs nowhere. Mikuan has a tough time personally, with added melodramatic family tragedies, but has the inner strength needed to combat adversity.
Verreault, in her feature film debut, brilliantly integrates actors and non-actors and so the film’s authenticity comes from more than the location shooting. When Mikuan joins a school writing group it feels the scene has been created through improv so convincing is the interaction; and her poetry is great.
An interview with the lead actors, Ishpatao and Yamie Grégoire who plays Shaniss Mikuan’s ‘friend for life’, states there is more indigenous filmmaking happening in the area and it would be great if we could get more of it on the festival circuit. Particularly if they’re as good as this.
Based on Sophocles’ play, writer-director Sophie Deraspe has made a vital, ambitious film for today: the issue of protest, which is one of the film’s manifold threads, is especially vital at the moment and long may that continue. Nahéma Ricci, in a stand-out performance, plays the titular character who is a ‘good girl’ immigrant in Quebec whose brother gets into trouble with police because of his gang affiliations. As in the Greek play, Antigone puts herself in a position to sacrifice her future for her brother and, more widely, her family. If occasionally the film over-stretches credulity that matters little when the narrative has such ambition. Some of the subjects it tries to deal with are: social media campaigning; poorly trained youth offender staff; recalcitrant courts; politicians; citizenship rules and so on. Even if Deraspe bites off more than a film can chew readily it is an exhilarating watch.
By ‘good girl’ I mean Antigone is a model student who is determined to do well and she is an academic star. In a scene early in the film she makes a class presentation about how she arrived in Canada. At first the students are disinterested however when they wake up to the fact they are hearing about childhood trauma they, like the audience, are riveted by Antigone’s performance. The scene is typical of a superbly directed film that allows the audience’s understanding to grow as the action progresses and, right at its end, we see the teacher moving forward as she realises the trauma of what Antigone has said.
The film has the trajectory of a ‘youth picture’ except where, usually, the ‘growing up’ is done through sexual awakening, here it is Antigone’s growing realisation of the politics of being an immigrant. She starts as a ‘naive’ youth who believes that truth will lead to justice and learns a tough lesson and leaves us with an ambiguous ending.
On a negative note, the montage sequences illustrating how social media responded to Antigone’s campaign jar slightly with the aesthetics of the film. The habit most people have of using phones in ‘portrait’ position, thus severely restricting what can be seen, allows three phone screens to be shown across the film frame, with a hip hop soundtrack. Whilst this is meant to indicate the impact of her campaign it doesn’t work as it’s only Antigone’s boyfriend who we see involved in getting her message across. It’s a minor criticism for, as I’ve said, you can’t downgrade a film for ambition.
Ricci is superb at conveying the intensity of someone who has not yet been downtrodden by the system, unlike many of her fellow inmates whose rebellion consists of shouting and swearing. Deraspe even gets Tiresias into a particularly chilling scene. The film won best Canadian feature at the Toronto film festival and was Canada’s foreign language entry for the Oscars and it’s definitely one to catch at Cheltenham here.
Shahrbanoo Sadat’s third film as a writer-director was screened in Cannes Directors’ Fortnight in 2019, following her well-received Wolf and Sheep which won an award at Cannes in 2016. The Orphanage is currently streaming on MUBI. Sadat is a young Afghan director based in Denmark and her films are part of the general trend towards European-backed films from various Asian territories, enabling new directors to create festival films and a foothold in the international film market, even when the infrastructure may not be available for features in their home country.
The Orphanage is set in Russian occupied Kabul in 1988. Qodrat has been sleeping in an abandoned car and hustling outside a cinema, selling key-rings and acting as a ticket tout. We see him in the audience for Shahenshah (India 1988), an Amitabh Bachchan starrer. The male crowd is enjoying Amitabh’s superior fighting skills and singing along to a dance sequence. But somebody has perhaps complained about being cheated by Qodrat and he is picked up by Russians who put him in an orphanage. He later tells the authorities that he is 15 and that he has a mother but that his father is dead. At first sight the orphanage appears a relatively laid-back institution, especially in comparison with the Iranian orphanage in the film Son-Mother (Iran-Czech Republic 2019) that I saw earlier this year at the Glasgow Film Festival.
Qodratollah Qadiri, the actor who plays Qodrat also appeared in Sadat’s previous film. The camera certainly likes him and he makes an attractive lead character. Having said that, The Orphanage is not a conventional youth picture and, though Qodrat is the lead, the narrative does focus on a number of other characters, almost in a documentary style presentation of the orphanage before returning to Qodrat’s perspective. His unique vision is on four occasions presented in fantasy sequences which transport the scene he is witnessing into familiar Hindi cinema set pieces with a careful music track matching late 1980s action and romance films. These are entertaining but what is their meaning? They appear to work to emphasise the way in which Afghan youths like Qodrat must try to survive the dangers of their changing environments when they lack any clear understanding of what is actually happening. I’m not sure the fantasy sequences ‘work’ but they certainly offer something different and they feel ‘authentic’ as a response. It seems unlikely that Sadat will have seen Lindsay Anderson’s if . . . . (1968) but that film includes similar sequences in a British ‘public school’ setting.
Because events are seen from the perspective of Qodrat and the other young people in the orphanage, there is no attempt to explain the major events in Kabul as such. Qodrat and many of the other young people don’t speak Russian, yet announcements are often made in Russian and at one point the girls and boys of the orphanage are flown to Moscow and taken to a pioneer camp. The boys are awkward around the girls and fantasise about some of the female teachers. Perhaps the most surprising aspect of the film for me was the relatively liberal feel of the orphanage and the school (it’s not clear if the orphanage is part of the school or vice versa) and the general representation of Russian administrators. The young people seem to have quite a lot of freedom to play football, swim in the river, explore their environs etc. They are well fed and they are offered education (though the script seems a bit hazy on this – Qodrat is deemed to be ‘uneducated’ by his own admission, but he seems able to cope with reading and writing). The only downside seems to be the building next door which houses ‘crazy people’ (as the subtitles translate the dialogue and the credits list the players), possibly suffering from forms of PTSD. The narrative ends at the point when the Russians suddenly leave and the mujahideen occupy Kabul.
The answers to most of my questions about the film are in the statement provided by the director on the MUBI website:
While working on The Orphanage, I was fighting with two clichés. One ‘orphanage’ and the other ‘Afghanistan’. I wanted to show an orphanage where my best friend Anwar Hashimi lived for almost eight years during the years 1984-1992 in Kabul.The orphanage I wanted to talk about was not one of those orphanages that we see in movies or we read about in books, where children are starving or having a really miserable life, and they get beaten and have to work. It was the opposite.