framing device

I’ve had good luck with morning screenings this festival, and The Sun Also Rises is a fine example. Differing from other Chinese historical dramas, it’s not as concerned with documenting what life was like as it is in exploring the role of memories and fantasies in our personal lives. The film is broken up into four sections, the first three taking place in 1976 in the countryside. The first of those is a rousing symbol-filled account of a teenage son and his flighty mother. The editing is rapid-fire and impressionistic, which fits beautifully with a narrative much more interested in exploring Jungian archetypes than telling a traditional story. Trying to tell the difference between dream/fantasy and reality is irrelevant. Just enjoy the recurring symbols, and later on you can try to parse out how they fit the characters and what all this is saying about China and the death of Mao.

The plot takes greater hold as the movie goes on, though there’s one incredible scene when a man is chased by several dozen flashlights and a projected movie that has to be seen to be believed. I didn’t find the story as interesting, but director Jiang Wen integrates the various archetypes and elicits appropriately exaggerated performances. And the finale is a breathtaking series of fantastic images that brings the story back to where we started. I couldn’t begin to tell you what it all means, but I had a marvelous time.

I was talking with friends this week, and many of us were remarking what a great festival it’s been but that we’ve been a bit disappointed at how few surprises we’ve seen. Our favorites have been the movies that had great reviews from earlier festivals or that were directed by respected auteurs. The movies we took a chance on turned out to be decent at best. Cochochi is one of those films. A story of twin brothers in Mexico, it’s a typical festival film–showing us a part of the world we’ve never seen through the vehicle of a simple plot. The brothers have just graduated from 6th grade (one loves school, one hates it) when they’re given the task of delivering medicine to far-off family members. The risk-taking brother decides they should take their grandfather’s horse without permission. And wouldn’t you know it, they lose the horse in the first ten minutes of the trip.

The rest of the film follows them as they look for the horse, eventually getting separated so that the narrative might introduce us to even more characters. The portrait of the Mexican countryside is definitely interesting; stupid American that I am, I was surprised at how green it was. The non-professional actors carry their parts well, and the leads are lovable scamps. Still, the lack of a budget shows through on occasion, and the story will satisfy only those with a need for the familiar. It’s not a bad movie, but it’s not necessarily a good one, either.

Help Me Eros is a much more ambitious film though not necessarily a better one. Directed by Lee Kang-sheng, the longtime muse of Taiwanese filmmaker Tsai Ming-liang, it feels like minor Tsai. It focuses on a pot-smoking, stock-trading single guy who watches cooking shows on tv. He lives above a street where women in lingerie sell cigarettes and other items out of neon-lit booths. Of course, our protagonist eventually falls in love with one of the ladies. And then bouts of ridiculously gymnastic sex ensue. Some of that is genuinely funny, while some of it borders on the misogynistic. As the movie went on, I cared less and less about the character, and Lee’s formal chops don’t match up to his mentor. And when the self-indulgent plot requires a woman to cry for our “hero,” well I didn’t believe that for a second. Nonetheless, the movie builds up a lot of good will from its colorful mise en scene and its use of comical Tsai tropes. I was with it for a while.

A couple of years ago, I saw Dutch filmmaker Nanouk Leopold’s second feature, Guernsey, which showed a great deal of promise. Her follow-up Wolfsbergen isn’t quite as good but still marks Leopold as someone to keep track of. The movie focuses on a family going through a series of crises. The patriarch has lost his will to live and has sent a letter to each member of the family (including his pre-teen great-granddaughter) stating that he plans on committing suicide at the end of the summer. His daughter chooses to ignore the letter and instead gets plastic surgery without telling her husband. Her daughters–one bitchy, one neurotic–are involved in affairs, one with an ex-husband and one with another member of the family. And through it all, the great-granddaughter struggles to make sense of it all.

With so much conflict, Wolfsbergen is not a happy film, but I found the characters compelling. Leopold colors them with enough detail that I found myself wondering about the history of this family. What was the patriarch like that made his daughter the way she is? And what will the great-granddaughter be like when she grows up? Leopold also captures the small moments; I especially liked how one man relived memories of his dead wife by smelling her scarf. And the movie’s languid pace, especially when everyone gathers at a country house for a vigil, fits with the narrative. The final sequence snuck up on me, which I always enjoy.

The last film of the evening is one of those movies that makes you happy to be alive. A Gentle Breeze in the Village is from Japanese director Nobuhiro Yamashita. He also made Linda, Linda, Linda, and he’s lost none of his touch with teen characters. The central figure in this film is an 8th grade girl in a small village. She’s the mother hen to the five other children in her school when a new boy her own age shows up. How will this arrival shake up their little community, and will love blossom?

The movie follows them over the course of a school year, and Yamashita relishes in the small details and humor of children. The portrait is idyllic, so conflicts are easily resolved, but the funny moments (of which there are many) are balanced by several bittersweet scenes. And the protagonist’s voiceover is precious without being saccharine. I wish the film hadn’t been so episodic, as some of the energy dissipates over the film’s longer-than-necessary length, but that’s a small quibble for what is a delightful tale.

I’m back in Chicago now, furiously grading papers and trying to see movies for the Chicago International Film Festival. So, realistically, I’m not sure if I’ll get to Days 9 & 10. But I’ll try to write up a few blurbs soon.

In short, though, The Mosquito Problem was a thoughtful and formally interesting documentary about a town in Bulgaria. Munyurangabo and Iska’s Journey were decent small movies dealing with contemporary issues. Chacun son Cinema, an omnibus movie about movies, had some high points but also felt too long. Alexandra is another strong outing from Alexander Sokurov, while Dainipponjin didn’t live up to my comic hopes but did have a hilarious closing sequence that sent me out with a smile on my face. But even funnier and a great film to boot was Guy Maddin’s My Winnipeg, a glorious way to end the festival.

The Sun Also Rises: four stars, out of five
Cochochi: three stars
Help Me Eros: two 1/2 stars
Wolfsbergen: three 1/2 stars
A Gentle Breeze Blows in the Village: three 1/2 stars