This Is Not Berlin is a stylish and exciting picture set in Mexico City around the time of the 1986 World Cup and shot in ‘Scope with a strong music soundtrack. It focuses primarily on two families with 17 year-old sons at a local high school. At first I thought it might be a conventional youth picture/teen movie. As the narrative begins Carlos (Xabiani Ponce de León) appears to be in a dazed state in the midst of a pitched battle between two local high schools. In the next few scenes his taste in music is mocked by his mates. He is with his best friend Gera (José Antonio Toledano) when they come across Gera’s 18 year-old sister Rita (Ximena Romo) and her boyfriend kissing passionately. Next morning Gera is renting out his father’s girlie magazines to his classmates. It’s not long, however, before the narrative develops a rather different feel. Carlos clearly has his eye on Rita but she ignores him until she discovers his electronics skills. When he is able to fix the electronic keyboard used by the band in which Rita is the singer, he and Gera are invited to a performance at Azteca, a new underground club. This proves to be a real eye-opener for Carlos. He is introduced to new music, performance art, new drugs and a developing LGBTQ scene.
This is the fourth feature by director Hari Sama. His career has involved an equal interest in film and music and many of his projects seem to have been autobiographical in some way. He was born in 1967 so This Is Not Berlin has been taken as drawing on his experiences in the mid-1980s. As several reviewers have noted, what he offers is a fairly objective view of young people searching for an identity at a specific time in Mexico. According to this interesting review by Alistair Ryder for ‘Gay Essential website, Sama identifies as ‘queer (but not as gay’). What Sama can clearly represent is a mixture of 80s music and performance art that even someone like me, with not much interest in either, can find engaging and exciting. Carlos is attracted in particular to the art created by photographer Nico, but is he ready for Nico’s sexual advances? Carlos is a very attractive young man and also very creative. It’s not long before he is accepted by Nico’s group and becomes part of the stunts they organise – including a performance piece opposing the homophobia of football – in the midst of the World Cup. But the more Carlos (or ‘Charly’ as Nico calls him) becomes involved, the more he moves away from Gera and his schoolfriends – and his family.
The film is also a family melodrama. In fact it is a genuine hybrid, mixing several repertoires. I’ve read various reviews, mostly from the Sundance screenings of the film early in 2019 (it was picked up by Samuel Goldwyn Films and released in the US in August 2019). Many discuss the music, the queer discourse and the ‘coming of age’ narrative, but few mention the family, especially in relation to social class. The two families seem to me to belong to a ‘European’ middle class living in the outer commuter belt of Mexico City. Sama in the Press Notes tells us this is meant to be Lomas Verdes (‘Green Hills’). Wikipedia tells me this is 7 miles from the centre and describes it as ‘upper middle class’. But this puzzles me. Two well-known films that have something in common with This Is Not Berlin are Roma (2018) and Y tu mamá también (2001), but in both these cases the families have live-in servants, usually mestizos or indigenous people. Sama’s two families don’t have servants as far as I can remember. He describes them in the notes as “broken families, conservative and dysfunctional”. Carlos lives in what seems a relatively small house with his mother Carolina (played by a criminally under-used Marina de Tavira, the mother in Roma) and his much younger brother. Carolina seems severely depressed and possibly dependent on prescription drugs. We don’t learn much about Gera’s parents until the final scenes. Sama argues that the youth of these families in effect found a family ‘on the streets’ and eventually in the ‘post-punk’ underground. They were the children of parents who had experienced the political upheavals of 1968 and the early 1970s (the focus in Roma).
The focus on music in This Is Not Berlin links it to Y tu mamá también, but that is a film that looks outward from Mexico City to explore a ‘national metaphor’ and to encounter the mestizo and indigenous peoples of the South West. The only direct contact, as I remember in This Is Not Berlin, between the middle class European youth and the ‘other’ Mexicans, is at an outdoor concert (much like the entertainments in Roma) on waste ground where Rita’s band plays and the hostile crowd are not interested in the ‘post-punk’ synth-based music. The local band (of mestizos?) sport mohicans and play music more recognisably ‘punk’ in the UK sense. I should also point out that the film opens with a quote from Proust and the film’s title comes from a comment, a put-down of Nico, in a brief but telling political argument in which Nico is accused of just imitating European art movements. You are not a true artist he is told. The politics go further, Nico’s friends are accused of “just partying” all the time with AIDS spreading while they take no notice.
The music genre question also permeates the family melodrama. Hari Sama has a small role himself as Carlos’ uncle, his mother’s brother. He wears leathers and rides a motor-bike and his musical taste appears to have developed through listening to old blues guys like Lightning Hopkins, whose more melodic guitar playing seems to have influenced Carlos in turn. The uncle also turns out to be the engineer who encourages Carlos to develop his talents and think of electronics engineering as something to pursue. Early on in the film Gera scoffs at Carlos for playing a track and praising the guitarwork which Gera dismisses as ‘country’. Meanwhile Rita identifies herself with Patti Smith’s poetry in a school literature class. There have been criticisms of This Is Not Berlin because it doesn’t have a strong narrative drive. This is odd, since at one point I thought the structure was becoming too conventional and I was concerned about how the eventual ‘high life’ that Carlos was pursuing would eventually come crashing down. I won’t spoil the narrative resolution and I did eventually come to appreciate the mix of cultural and political issues in the film. Having said that, I think it is the case that the film raises too many narrative possibilities that can’t all be pursued. But better too many than missing some out altogether?
Much of the impact of the film depends on the cinematography by Alfredo Altamirano which manages to create a variety of moods through fluid movement as well as close-up work and the use of various devices to create textures. Altamarino does not appear to have a long list of feature credits but he is very experienced in shorts and commercials and his work has been featured at many festivals. He has some interesting promo reels on his website here. Overall it is the combination of music, camerawork and art direction – all the creative units – as well as the performances that present this evocation of a period.
This film seems to be destined primarily for streaming, which is a shame as it would be a wow on a big screen. I note that IMDb records a US rating of TV-MA which I understand is a rating for cable TV and streaming? There is a significant amount of nudity (much of it male nudity ) in the film and it’s interesting that this hasn’t stopped the film’s US release. It was due to feature in the BFI’s Flare LGBTQ festival which has had to be postponed. I hope that it will get a UK release of some kind. There are already three other Mexican films available with links that might encourage analysis and further study. As well as the two mentioned above, I would add Güeros (2014) as another film about youth, music and ‘protest’ set in 1999, but harking back to New Wave styles.
If I had such a list I could now tick off Kyrgyzstan as another country from which I’ve seen a film. It’s an affecting coming-of-age drama where Jekshen (Temirlan Asankadyrov) has to deal with an alcoholic dad and a mum who’s found love elsewhere. Co-writer (with Ernest Abdyjaparov) and director Mirlan Abdykalykov marshals his cast of non professionals well though most of the interest derives from the novelty of seeing a place hitherto outside my knowledge.
The most striking aspect is the way children are bullied, by teachers, into bringing money to pay for such things as the school roof. I’m not judging as no doubt the economics of the country necessitate parental contribution; though I suspect, as in most places, there are ‘rich bastards’ who look after themselves. The film, however, doesn’t articulate the inequalities but focuses on Jekshen who, fortunately, is a good runner and a local tradition of combining a naming ceremony for a baby with a race, for which there is a prize, means he has the opportunity to get some cash independently of his pathetic dad.
The finale, inevitably, is a race for a big prize and the ending is nicely ambiguous.
I also saw two films in the ‘Are We There Yet?’ free screenings of dystopian films, Children of Men and District 9. Unfortunately the current crisis caused by the Coronavirus suggests we are there, though the understandable (in most countries except the UK and US) reaction to this does raise the question why governments aren’t treating the climate catastrophe as an emergency as well. Hopefully we won’t end up in a dystopia as portrayed by zombie movies though the supermarket shelves empty (in the UK) of bog rolls and much else does suggest some degree of irrationality amongst the panic buyers. Indeed I heard one woman exclaim, “I’m buying things I don’t need!”
Children of Men remains a great film; the dystopian focus is mainly on the treatment of migrants so its message is even more potent 14 years on. District 9, however, remains a disappointment. The set-up, degenerate aliens marooned in South Africa, is quite brilliant but the articulation of the narrative, with cliche-driven action, still fails to engage me, although the film was a worldwide hit.
My first visit to the Glasgow festival was a hit too. The brief intro given to most films was welcome and the closeness of the venues meant it was easy to get to the screenings on time even if the Cineworld cinema used was the top floor of a skyscraper.
I’m not sure why this 1997 film features in the 2020 My French Film Festival. It’s directed and part written by Jean-François Richet, a singular figure with an unusual career trajectory. The strange title makes use of the extended verlan (slang) spoken in les banlieues – the high-rise blocks built on the outskirts of Paris which by the late 1990s mainly housed the families of Maghrebis, Caribbeans and West Africans alongside white working-class families. ‘6T’ refers to the cités, the individual groups of high rises separated by open spaces. The overall title then refers to ‘my neighbourhood is cracking up’. The use of ‘crack’ may refer to the drug cultute as well as the sense of conflict. The film must in France have been compared with La haine (1995) which had caused such a stir a couple of years earlier. I’ll try to make some comments on the comparison later on.
Richet made an earlier film Inner City (1995) with a similar setting. It received praise as a first feature and seems to have been part self-financed. Ma 6T va crack-er by contrast had some major backing by French producers and funders such as Canal+ and was theatrically distributed by BAC. Richet later directed American films starting with a re-make of John Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13 (2005) before the major France-Canada production of the two Mesrine films in 2008, featuring Vincent Cassel and an all-star cast. I can’t find much about Richet online but his is an intriguing story in outline.
Ma 6T va crack-er was co-written with Richet’s younger cousin, Arco Descat C. who had also appeared in Inner City. The film focuses on the youth of a particular cité, both those still at school and the unemployed older youths in their early 20s. It begins with an incident in the local high school followed by various clashes with the police and and other groups of youths. For various reasons, these scenes are both similar to and very different from those in La haine. Firstly where Mathieu Kassovitz’s La haine focuses on three young men in their early 20s, Richet offers a much larger group of characters (and it becomes quite difficult to disentangle the relationships between them). Kassovitz decided to present his film in black and white (though it was shot in colour) and to use a highly stylised approach to cinematography and mise en scène. Richet’s film uses a more direct approach often with a hand-held camera and scenes seem much looser, leading some commentators to refer to an almost documentary style. There are also major differences in ideas about representations. Kassovitz creates a male narrative in which female characters are marginal at best. Richet doesn’t necessarily have more female characters but they ‘speak’ more assertively. The film opens with a credit sequence featuring Virginie Ledoyen (then something of a young star in French film and TV) dancing and posing with pistols against a backdrop of TV images of protest in les cités. She again appears later, non-diegetically ‘imposed’ over scenes of gang violence and protest. Later in the film one of the older youths approaches a young woman who he remembers from school. He asks her for a date and she gives him a lecture about the fact that she is tired after a hard day’s work whereas he does nothing all day. The message is clear. On the other hand, Richet’s male youths are more misogynistic in the ways in which they describe young women than the three young men in La haine.
The main ‘message’ of Richet’s film that has been picked out by the limited number of commentators online is its seeming sense of a political consciousness. During their long discussions, some gang members stress the need to work collectively and to align themselves with workers who have the strike as a weapon and therefore to have an impact on the ruling class. More of this kind of rhetoric is used in the raps delivered by musicians at an organised hip-hop event in the later stages of the film before a full-scale riot breaks out. There are suggestions (backed up by the end credits) that the film is presenting some kind of Marxist analysis of the state of unrest in les cités. This is slightly problematic for me because I’m relying on the subtitles which, as in the cinema version of La haine are mainly translated using American terms. For instance, ‘Cité’ in the dialogue is subtitled as ‘city’ rather than estate, neighbourhood etc.
Music, hip-hop/rap, is an important element of the film and Richet has said it informed the structure and the presentation of the film. ‘White & Spirit’ are credited with the film’s score which includes tracks from other performers some of whom I thought I recognised from La haine. Overall, I’m not sure what I make of this film. I’d like to know more about the production. It seems like Richet was able to mobilise a large number of local residents to play the youths. He also appears in the film himself. Valérie Le Gurun, the film’s DoP also worked on Inner City but in her later career she appears to have worked in TV or part of a camera team. Was she from the same background as Richet? Some of the roles, especially the school teachers, are played by experienced actors, but sometimes the film feels like a community-based production with full industry support. The budget was around £700,000. There is a sense of realism about many of the scenes, oddly heightened by the effect of a grainier image – shot on film, the footage is available online in SD (standard definition) rather than HD. But other aspects of the film seem more fantastical. At one point one of the youths fires a pistol at members of an opposing gang, but they are not ‘live’ bullets. Later on there is a pitched gun battle between two gangs but only one person is hit by what appear to be live bullets and he is carefully shot in the leg. Were the other shots simply a form of bravado? I’m no expert but cars are quickly destroyed and set on fire with their windows smashed by a few kicks.
The police in the film are equally as violent as the youths but because the film is almost plotless apart from the feud between the gangs there is no conventional narrative, no cause and effect for any actions. It may well be that the loosely shot scenes are closer to the reality of conflicts between police and youths in the cités than in more conventional narratives. Apart from La haine and episodes of the TV crime serial Engrenages, we don’t see many of the banlieue films, especially those by directors who are themselves from the banlieues, so it is difficult to judge. I did find the film interesting but I’d like to read more about the film if anyone has references for English language coverage. These kinds of conflict between youths and police flared up again in France in 2005 and the potential for such confrontation appears to still be present.
Here is a trailer. The film is available to rent or buy on YouTube.
School’s Out is an odd mix of elements, not helped by being saddled with a poor English language title. All that title means to me is an Alice Cooper song and the idea of an American school breaking up for summer and for some students ‘forever’. The French title is far more intriguing. I’m not a French speaker but it suggests to me the idea of ‘a specific time to leave’. The first scene in the film, when a teacher suddenly decides to leap from the second floor window of his school classroom, makes for a suspenseful start. What does his ‘leaving’ mean?
At some point I’m going to have to question how My French Film Festival selects the films it offers. This particular film was first shown at Venice in 2018 and it stars Laurent Lafitte, who was also in the first film I saw in the festival, Savage. I understand that Lafitte is a kind of celebrity actor in France, appearing on stage as a member of la Comédie Française as well as frequently in a wide range of French films. I realise that I have seen him before in several films, but not in leading roles so much. Added to Lafitte’s presence, this is an adaptation of a 2002 novel by Christophe Dufossé and it is directed by another novelist making his second feature film, Sébastien Marnier. The novel was published in English (with the same re-titling) and the book was described as a ‘thriller’. Dufossé suggests that Stephen King was an influence and reviews of the novel suggest a mixing of a teen/high school story and a thriller element. This also affects the film, but films can make generic references simply by reminding us of other films.
The film’s narrative opens much like the excellent French-Canadian film Monsieur Lazhar (Canada 2011), but with some significant differences – we see the moment of the jump, it is secondary school not a primary school and the substitute teacher arrives quickly and without much of an interview. Although what follows is a quite different story, there a still a few elements that stay the same – a teacher new to the school faced with a class being counselled for trauma. The students themselves seem about 14 or 15? One comforting sight for me is to see them (and their teachers) dressed in casual clothes and not school uniforms as in the UK.
The new teacher is Pierre, like his predecessor a man in early middle age. Laurent Lafitte was 45 when he made the film but his character announces he is 40. He discovers that the class he must take over is a select group of very high flyers. There are just 12 students and he soon discovers that they are already a year ahead in curriculum terms. One of the two leaders immediately challenges Pierre, asking why at 40 he is still a substitute teacher? The school itself is located in a large country house in a wealthy rural area. Reviews suggest this is meant to be an élite private school but there seems to be involvement from the local mayor and ‘city hall’. (I understand that ‘private’ schools contracted by the state exist in France.) What is important, however, is that the school values the high marks its ‘gifted students’ are likely to get in exams and is therefore prepared to be indulgent towards them. It seems odd, therefore, that Pierre is appointed without evidence of vetting.
It doesn’t take long for Pierre to recognise that six of the 12 stick very closely together and that the six includes the two class representatives at the weekly teachers meeting. After a few classroom incidents it’s likely that older film fans will recognise the narrative of The Midwich Cuckoos (aka The Village of the Damned, UK 1960) in which a group of alien children are born in a village and grow very quickly especially in terms of intelligence, with telepathic abilities. There is a sequence later in School’s Out when the threatening side of the group is cleverly used in thriller mode. Pierre finds himself in a classic situation, feeling he must spy on the students to discover what they are up to, but also aware that they are working on him and putting him under pressure. The other teaching staff seem less concerned about the student behaviour. I was also reminded at moments of the German film, The Wave (Die Welle, 2008) which again has a rather different storyline but shares the same starting point of a single teacher engaged with a class in a project with a basis in social psychology and group behaviour.
There is no point in spoiling the narrative and I’ve left plenty of interesting detail to uncover. The 2002 storyline has been updated and the real reason for the students’ behaviour arguably makes more sense in 2018 than it did in 2002. But that doesn’t mean that the plotting works. As some of the original novel reviewers suggest, the script seems unable to resolve what, in the most basic terms, the film is ‘about’. The more the thriller genre narrative takes hold, the stranger and more frustrating the school-based drama becomes. I don’t think we ever meet any of the parents of the six high flyers and the school’s headteacher seems only dimly aware of the potential trouble they might cause. The head is played by Pascal Greggory who also plays a similar kind of character in The Page Turner (La tourneuse de pages, France 2006) in which his wife, a musician, is psychologically undermined by a young woman. There are many potential sub-plots in School’s Out that might be explored – or might have been excised. I did enjoy watching the film but in the end I felt a little dissatisfied. It is available to buy or rent on Youtube. Here is the trailer (with English subs):
Such is the difficulty of tracking films via festival screenings that I’d forgotten that Nick reviewed this film on the blog when it appeared at the Leeds Film Festival in 2018. His take (much the same as mine) is here.
Meteorites was my fourth title in My French Film Festival and it follows the first three screenings in featuring another beautiful French landscape, this time in the département of Hérault in the South of France with both the coast and the mountains inland. It also has links to my first screening, Savage, in its focus on a young woman and the broad category of ‘coming of age’. It echoes that film with a discourse about the natural world, but in most other aspects it is very different and, to my mind, more successful.
Writer-director Romain Laguna graduated from the prestigious La fémis film school in Paris in 2013 and since then he has made short films before taking Meteorites as his first feature to the San Sebastian Film Festival in 2018. The film was released in France in May 2019. In the same year a compendium film featuring his contribution was also released. Meteorites is very much a low-budget début film from a talented filmmaker seemingly designed to please festival juries. That’s no bad thing in itself and given Laguna’s background (he comes from Béziers in Hérault) I did wonder if he was conscious of following Agnès Varda, who made her first feature, La pointe courte (1954) in Sète. Laguna’s casting agent found Zéa Duprez in Sète and Meteorites is built entirely around Duprez’s character Nina. It’s also the case that Meteorites, although ostensibly a fiction, often feels like a documentary – much like the Varda film.
Laguna had very little money to make his film, so working from home with family and friends he spent 10 months assembling a cast of non-professionals and then devised strategies to allow them to perform ‘naturally’ – hence the documentary feel. There were several collaborators on the script. Nina has decided to leave school at 16 and for the summer has got a job in a theme park featuring the story of dinosaurs and their extinction. Unfortunately this means an early start and a bus from her village. At the theme park she meets co-worker Djamila from an Algerian family and then Djamila’s brother, Morad, a 19 year-old ‘lad’ on a motor-bike. Nina already has a friend, Alex, whose father owns a small vineyard. Before she meets Morad she has been hanging out with Alex when she sees a meteorite crash into the hills. Later she watches a film at the theme park about the possible cause of the sudden decline of the dinosaurs – a massive meteorite shower hitting the Earth. The suggestion is that Nina changes and becomes more adventurous and perhaps more reckless after she sees the meteorite. Certainly she decides to go with Morad and ignore Djamila’s warnings that Morad will dump her.
That’s more or less the narrative except for the ending which I won’t spoil. This 85 minute film depends on some terrific camerawork by Aurélien Marra (the same 2013 class from La fémis?) of both people and places and in particular on the performance of Zéa Duprez. Director and cinematographer decided to use the Academy frame (1.37:1). I can’t find out why this was chosen, but it works very well. Perhaps it is intended to suggest that Nina has a limited perspective on the world and is tightly focused on what she sees around her? If that was the case though, it would be logical to switch to widescreen after the meteorite sighting – but the frame stays as Academy. I’m a fan of CinemaScope and most French cinéastes tend to use ‘Scope (2.35:1) but in this case, I think the scenes are framed beautifully.
Zéa Duprez is a beautiful young woman with a facial birth mark. Her performance is indeed ‘natural’ – she isn’t a starlet but a young woman who could be 16 or 25 at different moments. It did occur to me that Romain Laguna has her photographed in a number of intimate scenes. The brief scenes of nudity didn’t seem to me to be gratuitous. Some of the shots emphasise her shapely figure but then it is difficult to shoot a young woman in the summer heat of Southern France wearing minimal clothing without being accused of offering a ‘male gaze’. There is also more of a tradition of this kind of representation in French cinema than in American cinema, for instance. I’m interested in what other viewrs made of this in the current climate of #MeToo.
I was conscious of other films while watching Meteorites. Suzanne (2013) by Katell Quillévéré with Sara Forestier was one possibility with a direct reference to a young woman growing up without much parental control. If I understood the relationship correctly, Nina’s mother is a single parent working on a smallholding and selling produce at a city market, meaning she’s not around most of the time. She is also perhaps an ex-hippy. The local community includes both Algerians and Gitans (i.e. Romani in the UK). The other sociological point I took from the film is that Nina’s friend Alex decides to join the French military. I’ve noticed in other recent French films how this is a ‘positive’ decision to escape a sense of ennui in a rural community (see, for instance, Les combattants, 2014). I would tend to agree with Nina that being bored looking after vines is preferable to being killed in a pointless war. The decision to join the military, especially the army, is often seen in British films to be a more desperate move borne out of lack of employment opportunities.
I doubt that Meteorites will get a UK release, but I thought it was worth the 85 minutes of my time and I’ll look out for future films by Romain Laguna. Here’s the French trailer – no English subs but a good introduction to the visual style and Zéa Duprez’s performance:
I only recently caught Shinkai Makoto’s much lauded Your Name (Kimi no na wa, Japan 2016) whose gender-swapping premise, mixed with natural disasters, was a fascinating mix of teen pic and SF. Weathering With Me is even better, though I’m not sure how much my delight in the latter film was influenced by seeing it on an IMAX screen.
The last film I saw on the big screen format was Blade Runner 2049 which seemed to me to be diminished by the large screen. I have found it difficult to know where to look on the IMAX space and this uncertainty interrupts the flow of the filmic experience. As Weathering With You was limited to one screening in Bradford I’m grateful to my daughter for insisting we go, despite my reservations. Whilst I haven’t wholly changed my views on IMAX’s suitability as a medium for narrative cinema, I am pretty sure this anime benefited from the eyeball-encompassing space facilitated by the large screen: it is an exceptionally beautiful film. However, I found Blade Runner 2049‘s visuals superb too so I’m not sure what the difference is. If anything, watching Weathering, because the need to read subtitles necessitates an obvious movement of the gaze to the bottom of the screen, should have been an even less fulfilling experience but I was simply bowled over by the images.
Like Your Name, Weathering With You deals with a coming of age narrative but instead of a backdrop of natural disasters, here it is ecological disaster that affords the context to teenage travails: it is raining incessantly in Tokyo. At first it appeared that Makoto was making a point about climate change, Gaia is mentioned early on, but by the conclusion it seems, disappointingly, to have been more a metaphor for the difficulties of growing up and first love. Morishima runs away from the boring sticks to make his fortune in Tokyo and Amano finds she is ‘weather girl’, a modern shaman who can make the sun shine. How they get together is subject to many (sometimes implausible but who cares when you’re seeing such sumptuous images?) narrative obstacles, some of which are funny.
In one scene the protagonists fall slowly, upside down, from the sky and I can’t work out why that image affected me so much. Whilst falling from the sky is obviously not a good idea for everyday life, maybe the image is about connecting with the unearthly aspects of our planet; hence Amano is a shaman. In our ‘sophisticated’ capitalist world we have lost touch with Earth, hence most don’t notice the incremental changes as we destroy it. Science has often been at the service of capitalism, developing products, services and new markets, and when it has attempted to speak loudly about climate catastrophe its message has been mangled and muted by vested (money) interests. Although Weathering With Me isn’t directly an ecological parable it does evoke the power of nature in a spectacular, and scary, way. Two likely ‘films of the year’ in one week!