On Body and Soul (Teströl és lélekröl): Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

On Body and Soul (Teströl és lélekröl), Ildikó Enyedi, Hungary, 2017

Closing Film (Sun Apr 9, 2017, 22:00)

I was a little wary of this one; the description mentions "a slaughterhouse in Budapest is the setting of a strangely beautiful love story", and—well, watching animals die, let alone in a systematized, 'commercially viable' way is low on my list of things I find entertaining. But the festival people were pretty convincing, and we ended up getting tickets.

Yes, the slaughterhouse isn't toned down or disguised, and a good portion of it plays a key part in the development of the story. And since the film is in Hungarian, it wasn't like I could look away during those gory scenes; I tried to read the subtitles as fast as possible, to train my eyes to focus only on the subs and ignore the images (it's more difficult than you might think; the eye wants to follow movement, make sense of the colors and shapes), but there were some spots, maybe one or two, when I did look away completely, and subs be damned.

But it was worth it.

Arábia: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Arábia (Araby), João Dumans & Affonso Uchoa, 2017 (Uruguay)

Sunday, April 9th, 2017, 18:15

A story within a story, both of them riveting, this film is a journey of loss and nostalgia, of social injustice—but also, most poignantly, of hope and joy and the beauty of a simple life. It's a hard film with a soft heart; a story of love and poverty, of hope and its clash with reality.

Donkeyote: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Donkeyote, Chico Pereira, 2017

Sunday, April 9th, 2017, 14:15

To this day I'm still not sure whether it was a documentary or fiction, or a mix of both. It's catalogued as a documentary, but it feels like fiction. Something magical-realist here. A quirky film, certainly—but endearingly, maybe even wisely, so. And how could it not be? The wordplay in the title isn't just a tongue-in-cheek throwback to the Cervantes classic; this film is a subtle tribute to the Dreamer, a modern reminder, perhaps even a revival, of the Quijote and its magic: the mask of satire that slips and reveals nostalgia underneath, the whistle-in-the-dark laughter at the expense of old age, the self-deprecating dig at our own idealism—and the sudden spark of hope that maybe the impossible dream really isn't all that impossible.

Neruda: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Neruda, Pablo Larraín, 2016

Sunday, April 9th, 2017, 11:45

Pablo Larraín was the only director to have two films at the festival: Jackie, and this one. Both extraordinary, as different from each other as oil and water, both clear evidence—maybe even more so taken like this, together—of Larraín's exceptional talent for narrative and conceptualization.

If Larraín's name sounds familiar, it might be because his latest production, Una Mujer Fantástica (2017), won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film at this latest edition of the Academy Awards. Or perhaps you saw No back in 2012, which also starred Mexican actor and activist Gael García Bernal.

In Neruda, García Bernal plays the bad guy. Well, sort of; he is the main character (arguably—and they do argue this in the film), in the sense that the film depicts his journey from 'bad' guy (the police inspector chasing Neruda, who's become a fugitive in his native Chile after joining the Communist party) to... well, if I tell you that, I'd be spoiling the entire film for you.

Suffice it to say this: Neruda is as far from Il Postino as one can get. (And, as far as 'poetry' films go, it's an entirely different universe from Paterson.) I don't mean just in the context of filmmaking or cinematography or narrative style—although, yes, there is that. But the Neruda we see in Larraín's production is the politician, the activist, the figurehead for social upheaval, as much as he is The Poet—and in the process of portraying this 'other' side of the man, Larraín's achievement is to give this Poet, a mythical, almost ethereal, creature, a dimension of humanity and reality that makes him—Neruda—all the more indelible as a historical figure. And—perhaps most importantly—translates his poetry into the language it was always meant to speak: the political.

Angélica: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Angélica, Marisol Gómez-Mouakad, 2016

Saturday, April 8th, 2017, 21:45

Another glorious, glorious portrait on race and the roles women play—by pressure, by tradition, by choice. One of the underlying threads of Angélica, one which touched me deeply, is the mother-daughter relationship. As with Julieta, this is a troubled relationship, further complicated by racial issues (mom is white, daughter is mixed)—but this racial difference, apparently only a surface one, serves to symbolize a deeper divide, one most appropriately blamed on generational gaps, and—coming full circle—on the ways perception of darker skin has evolved (and has yet to evolve).

I believe this is director & screenwriter Marisol Gómez-Mouakad's formal debut, and, yes, there are some bits of production that could be improved on. The budget clearly didn't cover extensive filming in NYC, so the bits set there may seem somewhat raw and unpolished. Some of the post-production could also do with some work; editing and continuity issues, but mostly minor. It's clear, however, that Ms. Gómez-Mouakad is a talent to be watched in coming years. There are many—many—long-time filmmakers who can't come within ten feet of her sensibility and sheer storytelling power.

Above all, this is a story about finding ourselves—our self, the true one, the one that doesn't hinge on approval from the ones we love, or the ones who profess to love us—and about what it takes to be true to it. It is a film about love, too; the romantic variety, and the familial one. It is a film about dreams, the ones we forget, and the ones that somehow find their way back to us.

American Honey: Reviews from the 2018 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

American Honey, Andrea Arnold, 2016

Saturday, April 8th, 2017, 15:45

This one surprised me. As much as my interest was piqued by the trailer and the summary in the festival booklet, I didn't expect it to be quite so powerful. I think I imagined something of a period piece, a bit of The Breakfast Club meets a millennial's version of Kerouac's On the Road. And... well, yes, it is that. But it's so much more.

I Am Not Your Negro: Reviews from the 2018 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

Everything you've heard about this film is wrong. Okay, not wrong, just not... enough. There are no words to describe the power here, the tragedy, the desperate reaching for hope in the face of all the futility. This is, quite simply, the greatest documentary you will ever see. It will touch you—change you—in ways you didn't even think possible.

Woven from James Baldwin's unfinished novel, Remember This House, given voice in the sober tones of Samuel L. Jackson, and given flesh and blood by director Raoul Peck's extraordinary talent, this is not just an eloquent portrait of Baldwin or of his own story, but of the story of race in the United States—right up to the present day, and beyond.

The story of the Negro in America is the story of America. It is not a pretty story.

Coming on the wake of the #BlackLivesMatter movement, all the focus on racial injustice for decades and centuries—and happening today, still—this couldn't be a more timely film. 

Although Curaçao is far, far from the racial inequality so prevalent in the U.S., there is still quite a bit of it; in different shapes, in different tones, but still there. (Here.) One of the things that angers me the most is hearing white (or white-ish) people saying, "This whole slavery thing, man—just get over it!" For years I've struggled with a response for that—a response not just appropriate but effective—and I never managed to come up with anything satisfying. Now, finally, I can give them a rather condescending smile and say, "Have you seen I Am Not Your Negro?"

I am not a nigger. I am a man. But if you think I am, it means you need it. And you've got to find out why.

Elle (Paul Verhoeven): Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival 2017 #CIFFR

Elle, Paul Verhoeven, 2016

Friday, April 7th, 2017, 21:15

Oh, how I hated this one. I should have known; Mr. Verhoeven and I rarely see eye to misogynous, chauvinistic eye. This film is, quite bluntly, about a woman who gets raped and enjoys it. Yes: enjoys it. The rape, in fact, turns her on so much that she deliberately goes after the rapist—not to exact vengeance, mind you (or castrate him, or cut his throat in the middle of the night), but to get raped again. And again.

And the idiot the director has the balls to call it a film about female empowerment. I suppose that, in Mr. Verhoeven's world, the only power women need to aspire to is that of loving their abusers.

The female lead, Isabelle Huppert, won Best Actress at the Golden Globes last year. And well deserved. She managed to translate into reality the twisted, masturbatory fantasies inside the cesspool that must be Verhoeven's head.

Unless you're looking to be profoundly disgusted—as if the world weren't offering enough of that already—do yourself a favor and skip this one.

Paterson: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

Paterson, Jim Jarmusch, 2016

Friday, April 7th, 2017, 16:30

El Vigilante (The Night Guard): Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

El Vigilante, Diego Ros, 2016

Friday, April 7th, 2017, 13:30

This was one of the three Mexican films in the festival. I loved it, but several other people I spoke to (including Cor, my partner) found it a bit confusing. I hadn't realized it until they mentioned it: this film is uniquely Mexican in the sense that it portrays our idiosyncracy beautifully—our weird sense of loyalty, our mistrust of authority, our ties to family, our deference to employers—to the point where the plot hinges on it. So, if you're not Mexican, you'll probably walk away scratching your head a bit. But why didn't he just tell the truth from the beginning? Would've solved everything.

That said, as a thriller it has some very powerful moments. The cinematography is masterful, Buñuel-esque, using the construction site, the setting of the story, to full advantage. The acting, even from minor or incidental characters, is natural and fully believable. The film, director Diego Ros's debut, won Best Film in the Los Angeles Film Festival last year, as well as Best Film and Best Actor in the Morelia festival in 2016, so I'm evidently not alone in praising it.

If you like thrillers, especially of the psychological kind, you may want to give this one a try.

(Sorry about the trailer; couldn't find one with English subtitles. But you can perhaps gain a bit of insight of what I meant about the cinematography.)

Pop Aye: Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival 2017 #CIFFR

Pop Aye, Kristen Tan, 2017

Thursday, April 6th, 2017, 21:30

Beautiful, beautiful movie. A naiveté that stole my heart and made me cry and cry in spite of the (sort of) positive ending. Or maybe it was the elephant.

No, no it wasn't.

Well, not just the elephant. Yes, I loved that pachyderm, and I loved his story, but the magic of this film resides in the narrative style. There's plenty of humor—fine, subtle, often guileless, humor—guaranteed to make you chuckle (and, if you're feeling particularly susceptible, even laugh out loud). But this is a social statement, a critique on the materialistic lifestyles we've somehow managed to convince ourselves we need. And because it is told in such a guileless way, it underlines even more harshly the redundancy of the goals we live and die by.

This is a feel-good movie. Remember to keep the tissues handy at the end, though.

Casamance: Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival 2017 #CIFFR

Casamance, Paloma Zapata, 2016

Thursday, April 6th, 2017, 19:00

Some might think it a tad amateurish (I'm not one of them), but even those can't help being swept away by the magic of music and candor that is this film. Documentaries are difficult to make; unpredictable plots, characters that insist on doing their own thing instead of sticking to the script—oh, wait, no script. Documentaries are about truth: real people, real events, heart and soul given flesh. And the music! An exploration into African rhythms, their history and evolution, and their trasmutation into Latin culture and music... This one had us tapping our feet—and looking into trips to Senegal.

It's almost time for the 2018 film festival, and I am far, far behind on the reviews for the 2017 films! So over the next four weeks I'm going to be posting three or four times a week in order to get through them all. They'll be shorter than originally planned, and I do apologize. Yes, it's a time issue, but it's also what I specifically didn't want to happen: I have forgotten a lot about these beautiful, beautiful films. *Sigh*

Perfetti Sconosciuti: Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

Perfetti Sconosciuti, Paolo Genovese, 2016

Thursday, April 6th, 2017, 16:15.

This one blew my mind in all the good ways. Four couples meet for dinner (the single guy's date stands him up, so it's seven instead of eight), all of them long-time friends, some even from childhood. The subject of secrets comes up, and someone says there are no secrets at this table. "We know each other too well." But someone else disagrees, and issues a challenge: everyone put your phone on the table, and during the dinner, any messages that come in will be shared or read aloud, and any calls will be answered on speaker. If there are no secrets, then it should be easy enough to do. Right?

I'm not a big fan of comedy, generally, but this one I found spectacular. Probably because it's serious subject matter cleverly disguised as comedy. And the Italian sense of humor lends itself particularly well to not just the subject matter itself but to the device of disguise. It's a brilliant take on these times of social media and communication technology, but doesn't stop there. How well do we know those closest to us?

Julieta: Film Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Julieta, Pedro Almodóvar, 2016
CIFFR: Thurs Apr 6, 2017

Almodóvar is a little like Quentin Tarantino for me. No, not in style. I mean in the sense that I either adore or abhor their films. No in-between, no middle grounds... Tarantino and Almodóvar, to me, are either geniuses or morons, depending on what film we're talking about. (To be fair, I do like many more Almodóvar films than I do Tarantino ones.)

The Other Side of Hope: Film Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

The Other Side of Hope, a film from Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki about a Syrian immigrant in Finland and officially labeled a comedy (more on that below), was the opening film for the Curaçao film festival on Wednesday April 5th. When we were making our selections for the festival, I marked this one as a must-see: immigration, especially from Syria, has taken a prominent role in news and debates worldwide, and after my dushi spewed a few anti-immigration sentiments (on which I swooped down like a rapacious bird of prey, no mercy, no quarter, until I saw a dawning light of reason in his eyes), I thought a story such as this one might help elucidate some of the finer points in the refugee-crisis dispute.

Jackie: Film Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

It took me long enough, didn't it? Finally—finally—I'm here with the first review. Of the first film in our festival roster. (I could've started with my favorite and worked my way through to my least favorite, I guess, but—given the obvious time limitations in my blogging—it just seemed faster to go down the list in order. Plus, this way, you as the reader won't know in advance whether the review is a positive or negative one. Fine, there are no real negative reviews—except one—but there are a few four-stars-with-caveats.)

The film festival opened on Wednesday April 5 officially, but one week earlier, on March 29, they had a pre-screening of what the festival organizers expected to be one of the films in highest demand: Pablo Larraín's Jackie.