NYFF Finale: 7 Word Reviews (Meek's Cutoff, Another Year, Hereafter, More...)

Oh readers. What to do with me? I'm always falling behind. In an effort to acknowledge that NYFF ended this weekend, and fall prestige/early campaign season is already upon us (Toy Story 3 event tonight!), here's everything I saw at the NYFF. I got sick right in the middle so I missed a handful I wanted to see. The films are presented in the order I saw with a brief description and a 7 Word Review. For now.  Surely I'll find time to say something more about two or three of these later. If you've wondered why I've been posting 2 grades for each movie I see lately, it's because it's my current grade (bold) plus the grade I could be talked into / might end up with when all is said and done.

Poetry & Oki's Movie (South Korea) |  Tuesday After Christmas (Romania)

Poetry full review A-/A 

Oki's Movie
A filmmaker recounts a romantic affair and professional entanglements.
7WR: Funny. Repetitive. Aggressively unwilling to engage visually. C/C-



Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives full review B+/B

Tuesday After Christmas
A Romanian man loves two women. Must choose.
7WR: Love Wrecked! Incisive, naturalistic gem. Pitch-perfect ending. B/B+

 The Robber (Germany/Austria) | My Joy (Ukraine) | Certified Copy (Various)

The Robber & My Joy
The Robber: an ex-con trains for long distance runs but continues his life of crime.
My Joy: a truck driver gets lost on dangerous allegorical roads.
7WR (x2): Virtuosic filmmaking but autistic experience. Couldn't connect.
Grade? Depends on what we're grading. This is when Nick's VOR would come in handy as both films strike me as worthy sees for commited cinephiles. But they're almost impossible to enjoy because they're so emotionally deficient or at least tonally limited to entirely nihilistic worldviews.

 Certified Copy
The English author of a book on the worth of artistic forgeries, tours Italy with a beautiful married French stranger (Binoche!).
7WR: Transcends its fun intellectual gimmick. Beautifully acted. B+/A-

Of Gods and Men
French monks living peacefully in a Muslim village are warned to leave when terrorists arrive.
7WR: Despite vibrant emotional pulses, touch too sedate. B/B+

The Social Network previous articles A-/A

 We Are What We Are (Mexico) | Another Year (UK) | Meek's Cutoff (USA)

We Are What We Are
A poor Mexican family struggles to keep their "rituals" alive after the father dies in this gruesome horror film.
7WR: Thematically obvious/clumsy but compulsively, masochistically watchable B-/C+

Tempest
Julie Taymor adapts Shakespeare's shipwrecks & sorcery play.
7WR: Muddy everything: ideas, sound, performance. Visual tourettes. D-/F

Another Year
Mike Leigh! A long married couple in England are surrounded by needy friends in four seasonal vignettes.
7WR: Blissful troupe rapport, comic beats. Weirdly judgmental. B+/B

Meek's Cutoff
Three families in covered wagons get lost in Indian country. They're running out of water.
7WR: Western From Another Planet but mysteriously confident. B/B+

Hereafter
A French woman experiences near death. A British boy copes with grief. An American psychic resists his gift.
7WR: Mawkishly moving but stiff, disjointed, weak storytelling. C-/D+


The Social Network used the fest as its world premiere and then promptly opened to great acclaim and presumptively leggy box office. Otherwise you're going to have to wait until 2011 for these films, apart from two: Hereafter (Oct 22nd) and The Tempest (Dec 10th)... unless you want to count Another Year but New Year's Eve releases are soooo next year if you ask us.

NYFF: A Summary

The 48th New York Film Festival screenings begin with a promo reel in which a graphic animated map of the world is formed. Famous director names are paired with their countries of origin in rapid succession until the entire globe is lit up as if powered by the cinema itself! It’s a simple—even subtly clever—way to remind us that cinema is a global artform and that the NYFF in dependably international in breadth and focus.

True to form, NYFF’s 2010 lineup comes from all over the globe, and opinionated movie fans—and what other kind are there in New York City?—are finding plentiful opportunities to rave, kvetch and argue over subject and execution throughout. Quibbling and instantaneous opinion wars are part of the informed collective joy of any film festival experience.

Read the rest @ Tribeca Film

To get a sense of my basic feelings on this year's fest (me likey) and a bit more on The Social Network, Tempest, My Joy, and whatnot... More full length write-ups are coming if I can eke out the time.

NYFF: "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives"

*slight spoilers ahead but this is not a "plot" film.*

Uncle Boonmee can recall his past lives. My memory is hardly as uncanny. Recalling or describing Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, the Cannes Palme D'Or winner and Thailand's Oscar submission, even a few days after the screening is mysteriously challenging. Even your notes won't help you.

This is not to say that the movie isn't memorable, rather that its most memorable images and stories refuse direct interpretation or cloud the edges of your vision, making it as hazy as the lovely cinematography. You can recall the skeletal story these images drift towards like moths and you can try to get to know the opaque characters that see them with you but these efforts have a low return on investment. What's important is the seeing.

What's wrong with my eyes? They are open but I can't see a thing.

Most synopses of the movie will only embellish on the film's title. And while Uncle Boonmee does reflect on past lives, he only does so directly in the pre-title sequence as we follow him in ox form through an attempted escape from his farmer master, who will eventually rope him back in. The bulk of the film is not a recollection -- at least not from Boonmee himself, but a slow march towards his death while he meditates on life and the film meditates on animal and human relations. His nephew and sister in law, who objects to his immigrant nurse, visit him. So too does his dead wife and another ghostly visitor on the same night, in a bravura early sequence that as incongruously relaxed as it is eery and startling.

The film peaks well before its wrap with the story of a scarred princess and a lustful talking catfish and then we begin the march towards Boonmee's death, perhaps the most literal moment in the movie. And then curiously, the movie continues on once he's gone. If it loses much of its potency after Boonmee has departed, there are still a few fascinating images to scratch your head over when he's gone.

The bifurcated structure that Weerathesakul has employed in the past is less prevalent this time.  Uncle Boonmee plays out not so much like two mysteriously reflective halves (see the haunting Tropical Malady which I find less accessible but actually stronger), but rather like a series of short films that all belong to the same continuous chronological movie, give or take that gifted horny catfish.

Surely a google search, press notes, academic analysis or listening to the celebrated director Apichatpong "Joe" Weerathesakul speak (as I did after the screening) would and can provide direct meaning to indirect cinema. But what's important is the seeing.

Vision is frequently mentioned and referenced in Uncle Boonmee, whether it's mechanical -- as in a preoccupation with photography which peaks in a late film sequence composed of still images -- or organic. But like the ghost monkey with glowing red eyes (the film's signature image) says to Uncle Boonmee early in the film, "I can't see well in the bright light." It's the one exchange in the film that I wholly related to and understood. I'm not sure I need or want to understand, to attach specific meaning to these confounding stories and images. I only want to see them. Weerasethakul's movie is best experienced in the dark, with the images as spiritual guides. They fall around you like mosquito netting as you walk slowly through the Thai jungle. B+/B

Justin Timberlake Wrecked My Piano. And Other Dream Mysteries.

My subconscious is angry that I have only done one big NYFF write up. Last night I tossed and turned -- 3 hours of sleep tops -- and had one of those persistent dreams which recycles stuff you've just experienced. Each time you fall back asleep you return to it and in its relentless disturbance, it becomes a nightmare even though it's not scary.

It took place in a huge empty house in which I'm throwing a party. At some point I was doing an elaborate photoshoot with two actresses. Please don't stop to ponder why they were Franka Potente (!) and Meg Ryan (???) or why they were then Juliette Lewis* and Sandra Bullock. (Was this a 1990s period piece?) Everyone was angry when they discovered the shoot was in black and white. At one point someone wore a Princess Valhalla Hawkwind costume. My dad was suddenly there smiling with approval that I knew famous actresses (This was the "you're dreaming!" moment -- or like that bit in Inception where all the subconcious projections turn to look at you -- whoever the forger was, he wasn't as prepared as Tom Hardy. My dad would never do this.) I went out for coffee since the party was running low.

Then I'm in the atrium and I see Justin Timberlake and Jesse Eisenberg lowering my rented grand piano down through the building and all is chaos. The piano strikes a railing and begins to break into pieces. They claim they were trying to help but they've ruined my life as the cost of a grand piano will bankrupt me.

Then there is no party, and the dream is a mystery about some crime which keeps changing and to which I am not privvy and the detectives (Mills & Somerset, natch) keep asking me if David Fincher did it. How self referential! They also tell me they're investigating "Joe" and Abbas Kiarostrami** and I keep telling them I know nothing but everyone is sure that I do.

We know you've seen them! They were at your party

Nothing makes any sense from moment to moment in the dream's third act. It's all fractured clues, 2 second scenes, filmmaker name-checks. The last image is a shot of dusty footprints leading nowhere. I don't know who did it or what they were supposed to have done but I'm pretty sure that bastard Justin Timberlake who wrecked my piano is guilty.

My dream was edited with a chainsaw. The chainsaw had ADD. I hope your night was more restful and the celebrity cameos less willfully destructive and angry. Feel free to share.

*regularly makes cameos in Nathaniel's REM life.
** I assure you this is a first time appearance.

NYFF: "Poetry"

Nathaniel, reporting from the New York Film Festival

In the first shots of Poetry, the latest film from gifted director Lee Chang-dong (Secret Sunshine) an idyllic moment of little kids playing by a river is interrupted by a floating object in the water. The corpse of a middle school student is floating their way. This nonsensational but horrific reveal will soon intersect with the story of Mija (Jeong-hee Yoon), a sixty-six year old maid. She happens to be exiting the hospital from a worrisome test (her arm has been tingling), when she is startled by the chaos of the body's arrival and the grieving mother of the middle-schooler.

Mija is quick with smiles and laughter, but as the camera intimately follows her about her daily life it starts to look suspiciously empty and full of loneliness and drudgery. She cleans, she cooks, she care-takes, and she has conversations with just about everyone, though those are often one-sided. Her grandson, who went to school with the suicide victim, treats her like the help, spending all of his time with his friends. Her cheerfulness starts to feel like a saving grace. She's a good soul but she's basically fading away without close friends or family members or anyone taking notice of her. Impulsively she starts attending a poetry class, eager to experience more beauty and do something creative.

Lee Chang-dong, who coaxed such a wondrous performance out of his lead actress in Secret Sunshine, performs similar magic again. Jeong-hee Yoon, who came out of retirement after 16 years for this role, is a wonder as Mija, beautifully fleshing out this woman's high spirits, kindness, and fears. Yoon's nuanced performance manages to reflect all of this within Mija's ever present curiousity. Mija seems to instinctively understand that her endless curiousity will fill her life with both more beauty and more sadness.

Actress and Director, basking in well earned praise.

Watching the old woman deal with neighbors, grandson, doctors, employers, and fellow would-be poets, Poetry finds pockets of both humor and tragedy in its detailed observations of her character and the patriarchal town she lives in. Two things continually occupy her: the poetry class and the teen suicide. The poetry fills her days and the dead girl hovers on the periphery of her thoughts... sometimes taking over completely. In one fascinating scene that's exquisitely shot and performed, Mija impulsively steals a photo of the dead girl from her memorial service.

So Poetry begins, as many movies do, with a shot of a dead body. But it ends so very differently. What sets this beautiful character study apart from so many movies, is the reanimation of the young girl's corpse -- not literally, of course. It's not accomplished through cheap flashbacks (the story is told chronologically) but it happens spiritually and, well, poetically. This movie's magic is a spell cast through the genuine empathy of the writer/director and the inquisitive humanity of the protagonist, who can't let the girl, a complete stranger, go. Mija wants to write poetry, to commemorate the beauty in life. She knows its fragility, at any moment it can slip away. A-

Poetry won Best Screenplay at Cannes. Unfortunately it was not submitted by South Korea for the Oscars. Kino International will distribute the film in the States. Release date TBA.

Nathaniel's New York Film Festival: Coming Soon

The New York Film Festival starts officially on September 24th. Critics screenings have already begun but so far I've been in absentia. I have my reasons though the selection committee and certain cinephiles would surely scoff at them so they will go unnamed. This morning I picked up my credentials but opted to skip Carlos the Olivier Assayas film about Venezuelan revolutionary Ilich Ramirez Sanchez or "The Jackal" as he's infamously known in history and in the movies. I love Assayas (Summer Hours + demonlover = movie heaven plus rare artistic range!) but I can't do 5½ hour movies. I just can't!

That's one of the reasons people will scoff (oops. so much for unnamed). I've heard it's terrific but I know my limits. My back and ass know them, too. Hopefully I'll get a chance to see it in its piecemeal French miniseries form at some point. I love serialized drama as much as anyone but for me that's a television-specific experience and it should stay where it belongs.

While exiting the Walter Reade I spotted a "coming soon" poster for Desperately Seeking Susan.


It's not every day you see a "coming soon" poster for a movie that's 25 years old starring your favorite celebrity of all time. Director Susan Seidelman will speaking to the crowd at the screening (Sept 23rd -- get your tickets) and Rosanna Arquette and Aidan Quinn will also attend. If they blasted "Into the Groove" through the speakers and Madonna made a surprise appearance in her original costume I would die on the spot with a stupid grin on my face. What a way to go.

Susan is not part of the official festival (shame) though the fest usually does have a few retros. See, NYFF isn't exactly known for comedy if you know what I mean. They lean hard on Cannes lineups but only the dour subtitled selections. If NYFF goes "mainstream" it's usually for something gloomy, like say dead children a la Clint Eastwood's Changeling but not dead children a la Rachel Getting Married because that movie was too warm and humane! I'm partially joking since I love the NYFF but that 2008 selection committee decision will haunt me forever. They crazy. I shan't ever forgive them.

My point is this: in one particular NYFF year I sat through three films in a row from multiple countries starring voyeuristic barely verbal loners who stalked / killed women. I can't even talk about it! I just can't.

For 2010, I'm most excited for the following seven in roughly this order:

• Another Year -because it's a Mike Leigh film. That's all I need.
• Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives -because it won the Palme D'Or and I found Apichatpong Weerathesakul's Tropical Malady so worthwhile in its enigmas.
• The Social Network -because people keep saying it's "a perfect 10".
• My Joy -because Nick loved it.
  
  
  
• Meek's Cutoff -because Michelle Williams and Kelly Reichardt's last collaboration Wendy & Lucy was so moving. I'm sometimes allergic to westerns, though, so we shall see.
• Poetry -because I still think about Lee Chang-dong's Secret Sunshine frequently and staying power is not properly rewarded at the cinema.
• Black Venus -because even though Guy Lodge didn't love it, it sounds fascinating.
  

I'll see other pictures too but those have made me the most curious.

And because Jonathan Glazer's Birth (2004) seems to be coming up frequently in discussions round here lately, you should probably know (should you be in NYC) that one of the special events this year is an evening with film scholar David Thomson (The New Biographical Dictionary of Film) in which he will screen and discuss this wonderful and misunderstood picture.
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