Review: Senna (+ Oscar Eligible?)

Senna

Dir. Asif Kapadia

Year: 2011

Aus Rating: M15+

Running Time: 106mins

It can be a funny business watching films as often as someone like myself. Films based on subjects that I find fascinating can routinely be rote and poorly made, whereas sometimes a film can come along that puts an illuminating light on a topic that I have zero interest in whatsoever. Asif Kapadia’s documentary Senna is one of those cases, as he allows his documentary gaze to fall upon the sport of motor-racing in this thrilling exploration into the life of a man who aimed to do as much for those less fortunate as he than he did for the sport.



Read the rest at Trespass Magazine

Along with How to Die in Oregon and Jiro Dreams of Sushi, MIFF 2011 threw up three documentaries that I think deserve Oscar consideration. Unfortunately for Kapadia's rather fascinating documentary, Senna will most surely be deemed ineligible ala Werner Herzog's Grizzly Man. I remember the furor that erupted amongst Oscar-watching circles when Grizzly was ruled out due to an Academy rule that makes films made up entirely of previously existing footage ineligible. Now, the Academy seem to change their eligibility rules every year so, for all I know, they nixed this silly rule plus Kapadia himself seems to have implied that the film is eligible as recently as late July, so I will follow with great interest. Just don't be surprised if it doesn't make the cut for the reasons above.





It would be a particular shame, too, since the film has had bonza box office in the UK and it's quite a high profile entry in the documentary field that too often fails to catch on with audiences. It'd be a definite shame if Senna was ousted and something as dull as - here's that name again - Herzog's Cave of Forgotten Dreams makes it in instead.

Things to Learn from the MIFF Critics Poll

After all the films and fun of the 60th Melbourne International Film Festival - yes, we're still discussing it! I should hope that the 60+ films I saw shouldn't be immediately deemed "old news" less than a week later - was over, a bunch of us filmy criticy folks submitted grades for every film we watched into a critics poll being hosted by At the Cinema.net. It's a fascinating look at how people respond to certain films and fail to connect with others. Most of the films at the very top of the poll receive unanimous acclaim while, likewise, the bottom rungs of the chart are almost universally negative.



I've included the feature poll here, but click over to this link to see what we all thought of the documentaries and shorts that screened.





Click for documentaries

Click for short films

Of the films that had several grades attributed to them, I can deduce the following facts:

• I am the sole representative to give 5 stars to Lena Dunham's Tiny Furniture and the only one to give Markus Schleinzer's Michael 1 star out of 5.
• I appear to be in the minority on Jon Hewitt's X (4 stars from me; average of 2.33/5) and Markus Schleinzer's Michael (1 star from me; average of 3/5).
• Werner Herzog's highly anticipated 3D documentary Cave of the Forgotten Dreams must surely take the title of the festival's biggest disappointment, scoring an average of 2.40 out of five. It was certainly the film that, for me, had the greatest discrepancy between levels of anticipation and end results.
• The King of Comedy, Martin Scorsese's 1983 satire masterpiece, was the festival's best-received title. Who cares that it was a retrospective title when it's able to amass eight 5-star raves from the nine critics who saw it? After The King of Comedy it was a three-way tie between A Separation, Senna and Melancholia, which all received six 5-star raves from the critics polled.
• Of the critics polled, I was the only one to see Ruhr, the Melbourne shorts programs, French child fable On the Sly, African drama Sleeping Sickness and French animation Tales of the Night.
• Three films managed 1 star from three separate critics: Norwegian Wood, Post Mortem and my personal choice for worst of the fest, Innocent Saturday. Another diabolically bad film, Greek import Wasted Youth, ranked equal last with two critics polling it with 1 star. I note that I know of at least one of the other critics here who ditched their later screening of Wasted Young based on the reception greeted to it.
• The lowest ranked film from the most amount of votes was another Greek film, Attenberg. Averaging a score of 3.0/5 from 12 critics.

MIFF Blogathon: Day 16 & 17 (Driving to Page One with Sushi & Attenberg)

This blogathon is an initiative of MIFF for their 60th anniversary year. I am one of six bloggers given the mission of seeing 60 films in 17 days and writing, reporting, reviewing and wrangling my way through the tiredness and hunger to bring the festival experience to your computer.

Page One: Inside the New York Times

Dir. Andrew Rossi

Running Time: 88mins

Unfortunately I had to leave this screening of Andrew Rossi's year inside the news offices of the "paper of record" The New York Times due to an emergency (er, an emergency known as "needing to earn money"), but I have a screener on the way so I'll be able to properly assess then. However, from what I did see I found Page One: Inside the New York Times to be a rather unfocused and haphazardly pieced together documentary.



It's a fascinating topic, and for a New York tragic like myself there should've been plenty to interest me, but it lacks a solid backbone. There are several different movies in Page One: a look at the Wikileaks scandal as seen through the eyes a newsroom; a documentary biopic of an acclaimed writer (David Carr) whose life is much like a film script; an investigation on the dying form known as the hardcopy newspaper and the way technology has both hurt and saved journalism. Unfortunately, instead of simply focusing on one, Rossi chooses a free-flowing structure and never settles. The Wikileaks issue is raised early on and then forgotten, while one scene sees many seasoned journalists being made redundant and either being fired or retiring and yet it never packs much of a punch because we haven't been given enough time to get to know these people. I won't grade it just yet, but will return to it once I've seen the entire film.

Drive

Dir. Nicolas Winding Refn

Running Time: 100mins

I'm going to review this film with a much larger word length sometimes in the future (probably once I've seen it for a second time), but I feel like I need to just say this: Drive is perfect. An excellent choice (however secondary it was after the initial selection, Red Dog, had to be swapped) for a closing night film as it races right to the heart and injects it full of adrenalin and noir-tinged style. It's stylish, cool and gorgeously rendered as it pulsates to that stunning electro synth score by Cliff Martinez and pieces with Los Angeles photography that is the best since Collateral in 2003.



Nicolas Winding Refn is a director that has never particularly been on my radar. Bronson never appealed to me and I wasn't even aware of his Pusher trilogy, but now I think it's an absolute must to catch up with them if they are at all even half as good as Drive. This film is like some wild mix of David Lynch's Mulholland Drive, William Friedkin's To Live and Die in LA (hello Wang Chung!), Ridley Scott's Blade Runner (those night time sequences!) and Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver. And yet, thankfully, it feels like entirely its own film and never succumbs to mere copycat filmmaking or obvious homage. I'm lucky if I find just one movie a year to make me feel so giddy that I want to dance. And dance I did. A+

Attenberg

Dir. Athina Rachel Tsangari

Running Time: 95mins

You know what? I think I would've been absolutely as perplexed by Athina Rachel Tsangari's Attenberg no matter what the circumstances. That I saw it on a dreary-eyed Sunday morning after the "closing night" festivities of the night before and was battling a debilitating hangover (and brain-draining embarrassment) surely did not help matters. Was I just on the wrong wavelength to the crowd, who seemed the be laughing with startling frequency? Or am I just on the wrong wavelength to Greek cinema altogether? Ever since I saw Dogtooth two years ago at MIFF I haven't come across a Greek I've liked! Hmmm.



Starring Venice Best Actress winner Ariane Labed as a - here are those words again! - socially awkward young adult named Marina. She asks her dad inappropriate questions about sex, imitates animals that she sees on David Attenborough documentaries and does kooky dances with her friend, Bella (played by Evangelia Randou). The idea of quirk for quirk's sake surely went through my mind when thinking about Attenberg, since there are multiple scenes that feel as if they are there simply to be weird, but which I will surely be told actually, in fact, "mean something". Yeah, okay, whatever, but when a character (played by Dogtooth director Giorgos Lanthimos!) tells the lead that she is annoying and that he'd like her to shut up you're kinda bringing this rating on yourself. C-

Clay

Dir. Giorgio Mangiamele

Running Time: 85mins

Recently restored and looking stunning, this is the first film by Mangiamele that I have seen. He was a prolific filmmaker "in his day" and this 1965 drama about a man on the run from the law is certainly "of its day". Filmed in incredible black and white, Clay follows the small number of members of an artist's commune in the Victorian countryside who take in a stranger, knowing nothing of his past. He falls for the girl, she falls for him, but the other pointy end of a love triangle has other plans.



To say Clay is dated in its acting and writing style is be kind. The actors here are certainly a curious bunch, often looking bored or confused. The dialogue they have to speak isn't much better as Jean Lebedew's Margot narrates in excessive and increasingly long-winded platitudes about life and stuff ("life and stuff" is as much as I could gather) and speaks in slow, breathy whimpers when she's not laughing hysterically in the irritating manner that she does. George Dixon and Chris Tsalikis both have the "strong, silent type" routine to a tee, but it could also be confused with "strong, silent, seriously this is my first time acting!" (which it was). Gorgeous to look at, but where other old films' classic filmmaking methods still ring true, Clay's are stilted and hard to push through. C+

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

Dir. David Gelb

Running Time: 81mins

As refreshing, elegant and deceptively simply as the food it so exquisitely documents, Jiro Dreams of Sushi is a delectable and mouthwatering Japanese documentary that explores the life of famed sushi master Jiro Ono and his 10-seat, yet 3 Michelin Star-ed, restaurant. David Gelb's gorgeous film is as much an ode to the Japanese cuisine as it is Jiro Ono, but Ono is such a delightful presence that it's nigh on impossible to not be charmed by the man. Same goes for his several employees and former apprentices who reel off humourous tales of their experiences working alongside this intimidated pint-sized man.



A lot of the film's success must be placed at the feet of editor Brandon Driscoll-Luttringer who keeps the film to a brief running time and superbly placed. Jiro Dreams of Sushi is such a narrow subject that the editing must be fiercely blunt in order to make sure the film doesn't get bogged down in repetitive nothingness. Unnecessary? Get rid of it! As a piece of "food porn" Gelb's documentary certainly passes the grade with the cinematography framing the neatly packaged bite-sized morsels in such a saintly light that everyone viewing the film will crave sushi afterwards.





What really makes Jiro Dreams of Sushi such an exceptional slice of filmmaking, however, is the rather melancholic way it presents the life of Ono's eldest son. Being the older of two means that he is the one to take over the business, but what is he to do with, at 85 years of age, Jiro shows no sign of slowing down? Has his father's success and subsequent shadow prevented Takashi from living the life he wanted to live or are the seemingly still rigid Japanese cultural norms to blame for stunting Takeshi's life from taking a different path that it is hinted Takeshi wishes he had taken? Either way, Jiro Dreams of Sushi is a rather exceptional documentary and one that will make you think twice about how much work went into that California Roll you snack on at lunch. A-



MIFF TALES

The MIFF "closing night" festivities certainly were a roller-coaster. Starting off with meeting the one and only David Stratton - for all you non-antipodeans out there, David Stratton is Australia's answer to Roger Ebert - who, let's face it, didn't particularly care to be talking with a bunch of no-name critics such as myself and fellow blogathon partners. Nevertheless, we got a Lars von Trier rant out of him (he famously hates the man and gave Dancer in the Dark 0 stars whilst his TV show reviewing partner Margaret Pomeranz gave it 5) and that's pretty much the greatest thing ever. For the record, Stratton is a fan of the start and the end of Melancholia, but thinks the rest is rubbish. So that's that then.



After that as well as a brief tasting of truffle-infused popcorn (hint: it tastes just like regular popcorn, but with the aftertaste of money) we were filed into cinema 5 at the Greater Union on Russell Street to watch Nicolas Winding Refn's Drive. As uncomfortable as it is to be in the GU in general, let alone whilst wearing a suit and tie, the film was - as you've surely figured - brilliant and a work of genius. We later found out that the festival's director, Michelle Carey, thanked us bloggers in her speech. I saw "later found out" because, lo and behold, we were not in the much larger cinema 6. Oh sure, I got to sit right in front of Wolf Creek director Greg McLean (obviously a late RSVP or else he'd be over in cinema 6, I'm sure), but I find it somewhat ironic that we got shafted to the lesser cinema whilst people across the way who'd probably barely even seen one or two films got awards and nice speeches and Drive exhibited on a screen double the size. Crikey blogathon member Luke Buckmaster has a much more acid-tongued response the whole situation.





The closing night party was glorious, apart from the rather embarrassing Gosling clones out the front who were wearing the wrong costume and chewing on toothpicks with all the coolness of Kathy Bates. While the night was filled with amazing '80s tunes, fabulous dancing and incredible people, it ended on a truly bizarre note that I shall not go into on here. Honestly, I never could have predicted the direction that night took me on and even though I had a sore head in the morning (and sore ego/bank account) I guess it was all worth it. Yeah? Any night where I get to dance crazy Kate Bush dance moves mere minutes after discussing the inherent sexiness to be found in Timothy Olyphant with a knife (something Jason at My New Plaid Pants certainly agrees with) is a-okay by me!



I will be doing one or two more MIFF pieces to bring this crazy blogathon to a close. I will rank all the films I saw, hand out my own awards and give all the required thank yous. Hopefully we'll be back on regular programming once that's all done and dusted.

MIFF Blogathon: Day 15 (Don't Be Afraid of A Tribe Called Sleeping Sickness)

This blogathon is an initiative of MIFF for their 60th anniversary year. I am one of six bloggers given the mission of seeing 60 films in 17 days and writing, reporting, reviewing and wrangling my way through the tiredness and hunger to bring the festival experience to your computer.

Bi, Don't Be Afraid
Dir. Dang Di Phan
Running Time: 92mins

A sumptuously detailed exploration of four different generations in Vietnam, Dang Di Phan's gorgeously lensed Bi, Don't Be Afraid [Bi, dung so!] slowly crept up on me and surprised me like another Vietnamese/French co-production from many years ago, The Scent of Green Papaya. Told generally from the point of view of Bi, a 9-year-old boy who live with his doting mother, alcoholic father, single aunt and dying grandfather. He associates with the lithe, teenage boys at a nearby factory more than kids his own age and watches curiously as they express their masculinity by stripping off in the turgid heat as much as possible. His aunt, meanwhile, develops a crush on a young student and his parents deal with their potentially crumbling marriage in the shadow of a dying patriarch.

The cinematography by Quang Pham Minh is divine, capturing the Vietnamese countryside in an assortment of lush greens, rustic golds and smoky greys while at the same time capturing great moments in picturesque ways. Two boys devouring a watermelon or the rain-soaked aunt cowering amongst reeds are just two that spring to mind as memorable, lasting images. The casual "slice of life" narrative drifts along in an almost dreamy manner and this debut film by Phan has a delicate balance that suckered me in. B+

Sleeping Sickness
Dir. Ulrich Köhler
Running Time: 91mins

A curious film is Ulrich Köhler's German/French co-production set in Cameroon. Split into two distinct halves, it always holds its cards very firmly to its chest. I was in constant thought of "where is this going?" and while it may not have gone somewhere I particularly understand, I appreciate it's ripe storytelling and visually arresting take on the tricky material.

Initially starring Pierre Bokma as a German doctor, Ebbo Velten, living in and running a treatment centre for the titular disease in Cameroon, Sleeping Sickness [Schlafkrankheit] takes a sudden detour and focuses of French doctor of Congolese descent, Jean-Christophe Folly as Alex Nzila, visiting Africa for the first time to conduct a report on Velten's study. The contrast of white man living in Africa and black man visiting for the first time is deftly handled by Köhler and the juxtaposition is never obvious. The final scenes, set amongst the deep black nighttime jungles, are mysterious and ambiguous. I was definitely perplexed by Sleeping Sickness, but found it constantly involving. B

Melbourne Shorts (Program 2)
Dir. Various
Running Time: 100mins (cume)

A much more entertaining batch of shorts than program 1 (although that may have to do with the fact that I was sitting with the incredible Mel Campbell, laughing our butts off!), this second collection of short films about Melbourne spans 1954 to 1979 and looks mostly at how the future (so, er, today) will look at the city of the past.

Beginning with Geoffrey Thompson's 1954 short Planning for Melbourne's Future (19mins) and the Melbourne Underground Rail Loop Authority's (so no actual director?) Loop (14mins) from 1973, the two films provide laughs a-plenty for Melburnians who deal daily with public transport fiascoes. As narrators explain the daily, worsening struggle of transporters cramming into trains and trams like sardines on their way to work and talking about how they need to make changes for the future I couldn't help but laugh. You can watch it at The Department of Planning and Community Development. Loop is particularly well edited and photographed (despite the poor quality of the print) and despite a truly bizarre lapse into comedic narrative that had my howling with laughter, they're wonderfully made shorts that really do provide a history lesson of this amazing city.


The City Speaks from 1965 was next, produced by The Housing Commission of Victoria and it was just as dull as the title and production house would allude to. I drifted off at some point during this 21min film and can't even really remember much about what I did see. The score was terrible, too. Far better was Gil Brealey's Late Winter to Early Spring (12mins) from 1954. A black and white silent film that follows several people - a grandmother and two kids, two women of different class waiting for their dates and a homeless man - around the botanical gardens. It's lovingly lensed and surprisingly creative in its compositions that bristle with humour and style.

Peter McIntyre's Your House and Mine (23mins) is a 1958 short that was produced in tandem with a local architectural digest magazine. It's horrible dated - "In [the late 1800s] during the dying days of the Aborigine" !!! - and, subsequently, hilarious short that examines what Australia's defining style of architecture and where it fits into the development of our ever widening cities. It's got a charming style, brisk editing and ridiculously comical narration. The program unfortunately ended on a bit of a dud note with John Dunkley-Smith's Flinders Street (11mins) from 1979. It's not much more than a curiosity, a document of what this iconic Melbourne landmark and its surrounding areas looked like at the time. I had no idea there used to be a cinema next door to the Young & Jackson pub on the corner of Flinders and Swanston! For what it's worth, the cinema was playing Superman, The Jungle Book and Saturday Night Fever. What makes the film especially bizarre is the presentation where two boxy 16mm screens are presented side-by-side. One has sound and is in colour, the other does not. The two screens more or less film the same stuff - walking from corner to corner around the area - with one a minute or so behind. It's curious stuff and I'm not sure it worked, but it was certainly interesting to see the big skyscraper that was demolished and replaced by Federation Square or the way the train station itself and the famous clock facade has changed so little.

You can read more about Flinders Street at Senses of Cinema.

Beats Rhymes & Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest
Dir. Michael Rapaport
Running Time: 98mins

Warning: Beats Rhymes & Life is dangerous to your health!

I dare anybody who see this film, Michael Rapaport's debut as director after a career in acting, and not want to investigate the entire recording career of A Tribe Called Quest. The groundbreaking New York hip-hop group of the late 1980s and early 1990s is given 98 minutes of love and affection in this documentary that is unfortunately conventional, but never boring. The music of A Tribe Called Quest - as well as the other assorted artists who are featured as inspirations of or inspired by the band - is so infectious and each song a masterpiece of construction and craft that I can easily forgive Rapaport's lacklustre direction. As the twentysomething white girl down the aisle said during the credits: "That was dope!"

Dope, indeed.

It's hard to see documentaries being made out contemporary hip-hop artists that would allow them to be portrayed as such funny, interesting people as Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, Ali Shaheed and the especially touching Jarobi White. These were men that never particularly flaunted their success and sung about pertinent issues. The live musical sequences are energetically captured, but like the rest of the film, they're hardly mindblowing. Fantastic animation throughout is about as close as The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest gets to being truly cinematic, but the beats, the rhymes and the life of A Tribe Called Quest make this film a delightful experience. B

MIFF TALES
The awesomeness that is MIFF was exemplified today when, after leaving Sleeping Sickness at The Forum, I ended up running into not one or two, three or four, but five wonderful fellow MIFF-attending critfolks. I see these people pretty regularly - well, not Simon from Quickflix since he lives in Perth - but there's something so metropolitan about just turning around and spotting someone you know.

I should also point out that with two days left of the festival, the end is coming right at the perfect time. My legs appear to have not adapted well to their almost perma-bend-in-uncomfortable-seat position and my dickey knee has been acting up big time. I injured it years ago and it hadn't bothered me in a very long time, but I guess 54 films in 15 days (two more on Saturday, four on Sunday will bring me to the magic 60!) has not been the best for it.

Meanwhile, I love that the "closing night" festivities (Nicolas Winding Refn's Drive and an elaborate party with drinks, drinks, drinks and probably some celebrities who discuss how great it is to see Melbourne filmgoers out in force seeing films whilst probably not letting slip that they didn't see any apart from their own. I love how completely and utterly Australian it is to hold the closing night festivities on a Saturday night when the festival doesn't actually end until Sunday night. Certainly gives people who aren't filming it up on Sunday the chance to get completely shit-faced and not have to worry about work in the morning. Well done Australia, you rock!

MIFF Blogathon: Day 14 (Familiar Triangle Wars of Tyrannosaurus X)

This blogathon is an initiative of MIFF for their 60th anniversary year. I am one of six bloggers given the mission of seeing 60 films in 17 days and writing, reporting, reviewing and wrangling my way through the tiredness and hunger to bring the festival experience to your computer.

Familiar Ground
Dir. Stéphane Lafleur
Running Time: 88mins

A film of such little consequence that when I tried to tell fellow MIFF attendees what I had seen earlier that day the title of this film, and in fact much of the plot too, had mysteriously exited my brain. I had only chosen it as filler and it's brief 88-minute run time sounded like heaven for my 11am brain. Still, Stéphane Lafleur's Familiar Ground [En terrains connus] is quite an airless experience. It drifts along doing its own merry thing, never so much as raising the temperature of its cold, wintery Canadian backdrop. It never raises a sweat because it never does anything, or even attempt it, with any weight to it.

Francis La Haye and Fanny Mallette star as Benoit and Maryse, still dealing rather unsuccessfully with the death of their mother five years earlier. I only know this because that's what the MIFF guide tells me. The guide also tells me there's something about "a man from the not-to-distant future", but, in all honesty, I think I drifted off during the one minute he was on screen (one minute according to fellow attendee and blogathon-er Jess Lomas). Apart from a somewhat intriguing ending, there's just nothing in Familiar Ground to mull over. I can't even be enthused to use the title in a witty pun. D+

Innocent Saturday
Dir. Aleksandr Mindadze
Running Time: 99mins

Remember when I labelled Wasted Youth as worst of the festival? Well, step aside Wasted Youth, for Aleksandr Mindadze's terrible Innocent Saturday [V subbotu] is here to claim the title. Not just worst of the festival, mind you, but one of the worst films I have ever seen, period. It's a frustrating and muddle account of the Chernobyl reactor disaster as told through the eyes of some of the stupidest film characters you will ever lay eyes on. Why yes, the nuclear plant across the river is on fire and about to explode, but you know what? I need to shop for shoes! Or, even better, I need to join a rock and roll wedding band and play for tips until the wee hours of the morning. This all makes complete and perfect sense, doesn't it?

I could look up who the actors were in this drivel, but I'd rather not. All I know is that the lead actor looks somewhat like Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Diego Luna and that I can't fathom why he would want to remain in the film's setting to try and save these horrible, retched characters. Outside of How I Ended This Summer I can't think of any more idiotic beings than these. The apparent love interest is, to put it bluntly, a dumb, pathetic shell of a real woman. Superfluous and superficial to the nth degree, I feel comfort in knowing this wicked character probably died a slow and painful death due to radiation poisoning. Same goes for all the rest, really. They're idiotic dolts and clearly all the years of living near a nuclear reactor has fried their brain cells into not wanting to evacuate a city on the brink of disaster. The MIFF guide tells me that this represents the complacency that nuclear powered countries seem to find themselves in (hello Japan putting nuclear plants on active fault lines!) but this reading is incredibly hard to decipher out from the nauseating hand-held cinematography and loud, incessant barking of dialogue. It's a disaster all right! F

The Triangle Wars
Dir. Rosie Jones
Running Time: 90mins

The world premiere of The Triangle Wars happened today at MIFF to an overwhelmingly positive response! What more would you expect, however, from a theatre full of viewers who are obviously on the same side of the filmmakers? I went into Rosie Jones' documentary The Triangle Wars not knowing all that much about the redevelopment of the St Kilda foreshore area known as "The Triangle" - I've never lived in St Kilda, nor do I ever visit there, so I didn't particularly follow - but now that I've seen this film I can safely say that I still don't know all that much because Jones and her collaborative producers have gone out of the way to present their film as biased as possible.

Now this was surely their intention all along, but I find it somewhat discouraging to find a documentary to be so blatantly one-sided. I sat there wondering what all the fuss was about over this triangle of land. I understood the objections by St Kilda residents, but I also started to consider the hundreds (thousands?) of jobs that the development would create, the business it would stir amongst the area and the tourism it would entice. Of course, Jones doesn't explore any of that, instead wishing to merely document the rabble raising that the so-called "UnChain St Kilda" action group caused.


Now, don't get me wrong - I more or less agree with the idea that giant malls would dilute the sunny charm of the St Kilda foreshore, but when presented in the manner that it is here I actually began to turn against it. The rally sequences have a sort of chest-thumping energy to them that sparks memories of my own protest attendances and there are some eye-opening talking head style interviews, but a bland television aesthetic - this will look much better on the TV than the highly-pixellated look that the cinema exhibition gave us - and lousy, dull narration (was it by Rosie Jones herself?) harm it greatly.

Almost everyone seen on screen in this documentary looks like the upper-class, privileged arty folk that I find so hard to relate to. It must be nice to just decide to become a council-member on a whim. Do these people even have jobs? The weird, creepy demonisation of the film's "villains" was also particularly off-putting, including a meanspirited and insulting slow motion take of one councilwoman dancing at a function. There was something that irked me about The Triangle Wars far more than it's rather inoffensive premise would suggest, but as audience members around me laughed and jeered as their enemies strutted about I couldn't help but feel there isn't much to the film for those who aren't St Kilda radicals. C-

Tyrannosaur
Dir. Paddy Considine
Running Time: 91mins

On day 11 of the festival I was privy to Peter Mullan's Neds, in which he had a small role as a drunk, abusive father. In Paddy Considine's directorial debut, Tyrannosaur, Mullan takes the lead role of a drunk, abusive man. It's a stretch, I'm sure, but he does it so well that we can forgive the typecasting. Thankfully, the film around him is equally impressive as Considine has written and directed this film with solid aplomb. Where it could have easily descended into true, honest miserebalism, Tyrannosaur explores the way damaged souls can connect through not only their collective anger, but through spicy humour and barbs of steel.

Starring Mullan and Olivia Colman as oddly connected souls - he a former abusive husband, she a currently abused wife - who help each other deal with the demons that dwell inside them. Colman is truly stunning here as Hannah and she tops it off with a climactic scene of dramatic power that tore my heart out and stomped on it, wringing tears in the process. Can the best actress Oscar campaign start right now, please? The film is beaming with compassion in the face of enraging violence with surprisingly clean cinematography by Erik Wilson, Tyrannosaur is a dark study, but it's dinosaur title is apt: it's a monster. B+

X
Dir. Jon Hewitt
Running Time: 85mins

"From the director of Bloodlust" is certainly an opening line that should spark wide-eyed fear in anyone, however I found myself curiously entertained by Jon Hewitt's lurid, sex-drenched tale of hookers on the run. I will be reviewing this in full at some later stage, but for now let me just say how much fun I had with X! It's bathed in flesh and neon with over-the-top flashiness to mask over the utterly ridiculous screenplay ("you're now a bowling ball!") by Hewitt and actor Belinda McClory (she was "Switch" in The Matrix!)

X features a great lead performance by Viva Bianca, wonderful cinematography by Mark Pugh as well as stunning sound design and music, plus electric editing by Cindy Clarkson. The Sydney locations are captured with glorious vividness and the nudity is frank and upfront. If the violence gets too much then, well, it is set in the underworld although any call of misogyny can be easily counterclaimed: these women get their own back! I had a blast with X and it's the best Australian film I have seen during the festival. B+

MIFF TALES
It can be amusing getting the reactions from others after a screening. I've been in the minority on a few occasions throughout the fest - including, to some degree, X which many seem to have tolerated, hated or moderately enjoyed - but the universal hatred for Innocent Saturday has been refreshing and unlike anything I've experienced so far this festival. I haven't spoken to a single person who liked it. Not even a little bit! I sat next to Greg Bennett of Sounds Like Cinema and we both let out exacerbated sighs are numerous point and once out on the street there was uncontrollable laughter in between loud proclamations of "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Several others, including a stranger who waltzed over to myself and Jess Lomas after the screening, were all baffled by the degree of awful we'd just witnessed.

With only three days left of the festival, it really is sinking in that after Sunday I won't absolutely have to see three of four or (like today and tomorrow) five films throughout the day. I won't have to arrive home at some terribly late hour and somehow fit it blogging, eating, watching Masterchef (of course) and general relaxation. In fact, I'm surprised I made it through today so well with only some brief microsleeps during that movie I saw first that I've forgotten the title of again since I'd been up since 8am for reasons that I will explain later (it involves interviewing someone and WOW what an interview!)

And now it's 2:05am and I am so incredibly tired. Good night!

MIFF Blogathon: Day 9 (The Forgiveness of a Pool Party in Ruhr)

This blogathon is an initiative of MIFF for their 60th anniversary year. I am one of six bloggers given the mission of seeing 60 films in 17 days and writing, reporting, reviewing and wrangling my way through the tiredness and hunger to bring the festival experience to your computer.

Ruhr

Dir. James Benning

Running Time: 120mins

A thoroughly fascinating piece of experimental film work from an apparently master of the genre James Benning, Ruhr is a curiously fascinating work of halves. One half of the mammoth-feeling runtime of 120 minutes is devoted to 10-minute segments of various elements of the Ruhr district in Germany; an underground car tunnel, Dusseldorf Airport, a muslim prayer service, and so forth. The second half is one single uninterrupted take - yes, 60 full minutes, of a coke factory chimney. It's intermittently captivating and frustrating, but a rewarding experience for sure.



Having walked out of the experimental shorts yesterday afternoon - albeit, apparently not very good ones from people more into that sort of thing - I wasn't sure how I would go with Ruhr, but I found myself being pleasantly surprised (if also a little sleepy at moments). Perhaps it's because Ruhr is feature length and so feels less like an actual film with an actual destination rather than the art museum installations that the shorts gave the aura of. Sure, at times it feels like director Benning recently purchased his first digital camera (this is his first digital film) and wanted a tax deductible trip to Germany, but if the result is this stimulating then I guess I am all for it.





Could the second half have been shorter? Probably, but the imagery of a vent tower against a slowly darkening sunset is mesmerising. As smoke occasionally billows out from the top and oozes out of pockets along the side, it creates an eye-opening experience. It's like a modern take on, and a far shorter version of, Andy Warhol's Empire experimental work. As a matter of fact, the whole piece reminded me of the sort of exciting art that I saw in New York City and the way I felt inspired and arrested. Ruhr was sweet justification after yesterday's experience with the shorts and has only improved in my mind afterwards. A-

Pool Party

Dir. Beth Aala

Running Time: 75mins

A refreshingly fun documentary from debut feature director Beth Aala, Pool Party examines the McCarren Pool in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The size of four Olympic swimming pools put together and closed in 1984, this massive - and I mean massive - location has, in recent years, become a summer concert hot spot as a company called Jelly have put on free music concerts for the ever-so-hip residents of Brooklyn and beyond. Featuring artists that these very people have helped launch such as Matt & Kim, The Liars, The Black Lips, The Hold Steady, The Ting Tings, To Le Tango, Deerhunter, The Breeders and, in a major coup, Sonic Youth.



Moreso than a look at the pool itself, however, Aala's film looks at the way Brooklyn as a whole has risen from its dilapidated beginnings to its current status as a vibrant, hipster (almost yuppie) centre and the gentrification that comes with it. As they say, first come the artists and then come the million dollar condos. Pool Party doesn't do all that much that is particularly illuminating, but for a New York City tragic like myself it was utterly divine to see all this activity and vibrant life mixed between the token vintage footage and photographs as well as the lovingly sun-bleached shots of the beautiful city. And especially on the heels of Ruhr and after the disappointing lack of music found within last night's The Black Power Mixtape 1968-1975, the great musical performances and pulsating beat were a sound for sore ears. B+

Toomelah

Dir. Ivan Sen

Running Time: 101mins

The first thing that hit me with Ivan Sen's follow-up to last year's best MIFF title Dreamland was, much like that dialogue free experimental alien work, the sound design. Sen layers a ticking clock over a dog's bark and then adds the hum of a refrigerator and the ding of a young boy opening and closing a cooking pot. Unfortunately, Toomelah - a recent graduate of Cannes' Un Certain Regard - is far too familiar to succeed beyond the individual scenes of greatness that occasionally spring forth.



Acted by non-professionals (although Dean Daley-Jones of Mad Bastards does pop up as a local drug peddling thug) results in a mixed bag of good and bad performances that audiences should come to expect. This story of a dying Aboriginal mission as seen through the eyes of a small child (Daniel Connors) is told using subtitles due to the thick, lingo-laden dialogue and features some wonderful comedy moments (one character is named "Tupac" for instance) littered amongst the rather heady material. Dialogue is laced with profanity and those squeamish about "the c-word" would be best to avoid. A wonderful score made up on jangly guitar riffs and downtrodden strings adds a touch of class to the proceedings, but an overly excessive run time make Toomelah a tough ride to take. C+

The Forgiveness of Blood

Dir. Joshua Marston

Running Time: 109mins

Those familiar with Joshua Marston's sublime debut feature, Maria Full of Grace, will probably come out of The Forgiveness of Blood with, like me, pangs of disappointing. While the film is a stinging indictment of barbaric traditions in this rural Albanian village, Blood lacks an energy and a verve that was evident throughout Maria. Who can forget that pulse-pounding scene where Maria (Catalina Sandino Moreno) swallows the cocaine-filled capsules? Nothing like that in The Forgiveness of Blood, which chooses mundane village life over anything resembling tension.



It's a hard film to discuss since it is so reserved about so much, but I liked the performances and the specific art direction (loved that half-constructed second level on the family home). The performances of Tristand Halilaj - an Albania Andrew Garfield of sorts with his tall, lanky frame and goofball good looks - and Sindi Lacej as his sister are of particular note. The latter, in particular, gets a wonderful final shot amidst the movie's perplexing climax. B-



MIFF TALES

I got my cupcake! The most important review of all: It was delicious. Thank you to the wonderful Suze for that!



After Toomelah this afternoon there was a Q&A with the film's producer David Joysey. Funnily enough the first question put to him by the MIFF director was about Dreamland. As I originally mused last year, nobody has purchased it and the version of it that I saw will, presumably, never see the light of day. Such a cruel shame for such a brilliant film. I can only hope that whatever version they're cutting it into at the moment (Jowsey was, shall we say, less than forthcoming when I asked him personally in the ACMI lobby) isn't too drastic, but can allow Dreamland to be seen some sort of audience.



Other than that weren't too many MIFF anecdotes from today's screenings. I certainly could have done without the patron rustling a packet of chips deep into the final scene of Ruhr, likewise to the woman sitting near me at The Forgiveness of Blood who exaggerated every reaction to the point of comedy. I did walk into a wall today though. At Ruhr, I sorta just lost my bearings and stumbled against the wall of Greater Union's cinema 4. That's what seeing 60 films at a festival whilst battling the flu is all about, I suppose!



Lastly, before the festival began I wrote a top posters of the fest piece for Trespass Magazine and it's now up! See what I consider the best posters of films showing at this year's MIFF and let me know if there are any I didn't consider long enough?

MIFF Blogathon: Day 8 (Top Floor Brother on the Sly)

This blogathon is an initiative of MIFF for their 60th anniversary year. I am one of six bloggers given the mission of seeing 60 films in 17 days and writing, reporting, reviewing and wrangling my way through the tiredness and hunger to bring the festival experience to your computer.

On the Sly
Dir. Olivier Ringer
Running Time: 77mins

"Cute, but slight" is a frequent criticism of films that play festivals. It could easily be said for Olivier Ringer's On the Sly [A pas de loup], a nicely made French drama about a girl who suspects she is invisible to her busy Parisian parents so, on a weekend trip to the country, she decides to become just that and vanishes before their very eyes. She then spends several days living in the forest behind the country home, fending for herself (she finds a berry - just one - and then eats worms), amasses several pets and takes care of a cluster of plant seeds.

Starring Wynona Ringer - I'm assuming the director's own daughter? - the film only ever shows the faces of those who can "see" her; a kindly old gent who offers her some seeds to plant and, later on, her father. The scenes set in her makeshift hut of sticks and fern leaves are quaint, but enjoyable, and the film certainly doesn't outstay its welcome, however, just like The Ugly Duckling yesterday, it feels quite long despite being less than 80 minutes. There's nothing overtly wrong with On the Sly, but it could have probably used a bit of fleshing out or a director with a few more tricks up their sleeve. B-

Top Floor Left Wing
Dir. Angelo Cianci
Running Time:

I feel like I would have enjoyed Angelo Cianci's debut feature Top Floor Left Wing [Dernier etage gauche gauche] if I had more rest behind me. From what I could gather from the film, however, it's a funny - if not as funny hah hah as the rest of the crowd seems to find it - film that is directed with vigour, features an energetic soundtrack and is acted with some real zest. Judging by the reaction it received post credits, and considering the similar storylines involving chaotic villains, Top Floor Left Wing is this year's Four Lions; last year's hilarious terrorist comedy from Chris Morris. B-

Experimental Shorts Program 1
Dir. Various
Running Time: 81mins

I attempted to make my way through the first program of experimental shorts, but - as I inevitably do with short films - I ended up frustrated, annoyed and left. I could handle the first of the four shorts, Nathaniel Dorsky's Pastourelle, even if it did kinda just remind me of 17 minutes of outtakes from ABC1's Gardening Australia, what with its out of focus close-ups of flowers and streams of sunlight. And with no soundtrack, either!


I decided to leave after the second short, Ben Russell's 10-minute Tryppes #7 (Badlands), which was, for the majority of its length, just a single shot of a woman as a bell rings every 60 seconds. These sort of films frequently lead me to query where they are going, but the answer is inevitably "nowhere" and I'm glad I left before the commencement of the 40-minute Slow Action, which was apparently dire and the title alone gave me the shivers!

Brother Number One
Dir. Annie Goldson
Running Time: 97mins

This New Zealand documentary follows famous sportsman Rob Hamill as he travels to Cambodia - with detours to Australia and his native New Zealand - to give a victim statement at a trial for an evil Khmer Rouge leader responsible for the death of his bother, Kerry. As any documentary about the atrocities committed by the Khmer Rouge would be - you'll know of what I speak if you've seen Oscar-winning The Killing Fields from 1984 - Brother Number One (and not Number One Brother as I've been erroneously calling it all day!) is affecting and will wring tears from many.

It's such a shame then that director Annie Goldson's film isn't more a visually dynamic film. It's a very straightforward film, with little done to take it to the next level whether that be visually, structurally or within the material. While, thankfully, the story at its core is important enough to not necessarily need it, it just makes it hard to really say the film itself deserves the score I give it as opposed to the potency of its subject. B

The Black Power Mix-Tape 1967-1975
Dir. Göran Olsson
Running Time: 100mins

It's funny the things that can swing one's opinion of a film. Goran Olsson's The Black Power Mix-Tape 1967-1975 is a fascinating, and frequently enraging exploration of the black civil rights movement through the eyes of previously unseen Swedish news footage from the era. The film is definitely put together well and the interviews - both on screen from the 1960s and '70s to the audio interviews with the likes of ?uestlove, Erykah Badu, Talib Kweli and so forth - are interesting and full of wonderful details that, for someone like me, are quite illuminating.

Unfortunately, for a film with the word "Mix-Tape" in the title, there is a distinct lack of music. In fact, apart from one Michael Jackson song at the very beginning and a recurring use of one track by The Roots that I can't recall the title of (it was a great song) there is no music whatsoever. Perhaps it was naive to think a movie with this title explored the rights movement through music? Perhaps. B

MIFF TALES
You know what I've discovered is a really good way to stop oneself from falling asleep during a movie? Sit at the back of the cinema and as you drift off your head will topple backwards and hit the wall! I did this tonight at the ever fancy Greater Union 5 and my head hit the wall with an almighty smack. The lady next to me even jumped. I had to apologise: "Sorry, I fell asleep and my head hit the wall." Only during MIFF could I say that and not be embarrassed. The amount of times I've dozed off during films so far this festival is embarrassing in itself! Tomorrow I have Ruhr, so I'm sure it'll be happening again.

Along with the sleepiness, I think I'm getting deep vein thrombosis in my legs and to top off that marvellous feeling my coughing fits are remaining hoarse and sore. Plus I feel like I've been wearing the same clothes over and over again (I have, at least, with my jeans, which are the most comfortable ones to wear whilst in public that still look like I'm not wearing "comfy jeans"). I think I'm gonna have to swing into Little Cupcakes tomorrow and cheer myself up! It's not like my resident cupcake cooking friend Suze is helping!

*waits for a basket of cupcakes all his own!*

No? Oh...

MIFF Blogathon: Day 6 (Tomboys and Film-Noir in Oregon)

This blogathon is an initiative of MIFF for their 60th anniversary year. I am one of six bloggers given the mission of seeing 60 films in 17 days and writing, reporting, reviewing and wrangling my way through the tiredness and hunger to bring the festival experience to your computer.

If you've missed other days just click the "MIFF" tag at the bottom of the entry. I also wrote a dispatch for Trespass Mag on the first four days of the fest.

The Third Man
Dir. Carol Reed
Running Time: 104mins

Carol Reed's masterpiece The Third Man was released two years after his exceptional Odd Man Out, and together the two make a rather stunning double. The chance to see The Third Man, the story of Harry Lime and his mysterious death in a road accident outside his Vienna apartment, on the big screen was far too good to pass up. Even more so when I knew it meant not necessarily having to watch the film with my critical brain on. Having already seen it and thought of it as one of the greatest films ever made, I was able to simply soak in the beautiful Italian locations (yes, even the sewers are beautiful!), the perfect Oscar-winning cinematography by Robert Krasker, the crackling chemistry between all four lead characters, the dazzling looks of Valli and revel in the excitement and thrills of the final 40 minutes, one of the greatest chase sequences ever put to celluloid.

Unlike Martin Scorsese's The King of Comedy on day one of the festival, there is no need for me to request my dear readers hail The Third Man as a newly minted masterpiece as it has been hailed as one since the day it won the Palme d'Or in Cannes (or, as it was known in 1949, the "Grand Prize of the Festival"). I can only suggest you watch it (or watch it again) and agree with the masses. A

I Wish I Knew
Dir. Jia Zhangke
Running Time: 138mins

This peculiar film comes from the director of Still Life, which reminds to this one of the two or three greatest films I've ever seen at the Melbourne International Film Festival. Perhaps that's why I keep going to his films - perhaps? it is - but neither of the subsequent Zhang films have been, well, good. While this long, meandering testimonial documentary is certainly better than Useless, I Wish I Knew failed to grab me and resulted in a long series of walkouts. I was never offended or truly annoyed by the film to walk out sooner, but I did have to leave several minutes before the end due to another session. To be honest, I don't think I missed much.

The film follows an unnamed woman as she trudges about the city of Shanghai. As she does nothing of note, we are greeted to lovely footage of citizens of Shanghai going about their daily routine: mahjong, a young child running around looking for a fight to show off his "muscles", shopping for produce at a market. Throughout the movie are dozens or interviews with subjects ranging from the recognisable (Hsiao-hsien Hou for instance) to the not (I'm not sure if they were all supposed to be famous. were they?) as they recall memories about the city of Shanghai. Occasionally these interviews produced some wonderful stories, but others (like one man who talks about moving a sofa lounge? I admit to probably dozing off during that one!) are unfocused and uninteresting.


My favourite interview was Wang Tung/Wang Toon who directed the 1997 film Red Persimmon. The film is interlaced with film clips and locations sequences of Shanghai are gloriously lensed by Ke-Jia's frequent cinematographer Nelson Yu Lik-wai in his trademark colour palate of sea green and smoggy whites. The heavily synthesised score by Giong Lim is a highlight, but eventually becomes repetitious. Like I said, it's hardly offensive enough to my sensibilities, but there lacks any serious bite to really engage. C-

How to Die in Oregon
Dir. Peter Richardson
Running Time: 107mins

To be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure I am quite ready, willing and able to discuss this documentary about dying with dignity. Peter Richardson's deeply moving How to Die in Oregan follows a few cases of people wanting to die with dignity after contracting debilitating terminal illness, as well the Washington state's proposition to legalise it like it is in Oregon. Richardson mainly follows one case, however, and that's the beautiful Cody Curtis, a mother and wife with liver cancer. After the movie I tweeted this, and it's entirely true:



It knocked me out.

I don't really want to use my blog here to get into a big theological discussion about whether dying with dignity is a basic human right or not (I think it is, ahem), but I honestly don't know how anyone could watch this documentary and not be moved. There's a sequence in the film that shows religious protesters who believe when we die is the matter of God and God alone, but it's probably quite easy for them to say that when they're not the one dealing with crippling disease and pain. Hmmm. A-

Tomboy
Dir. Céline Sciamma
Running Time: 82mins

"Sweet" is the word that I - and I presume many others, too - keep coming back to when deciding what to write about this French childhood comedy, the first film by Céline Sciamma since Water Lilles in 2007. Tomboy follows a young girl, Laure, whose family has recently moved to a new area. She has a younger sister and her mother is pregnant. Laure, as played by the wonderful and touching Zoé Héran, does "the boy thing" - cuts her hair short, wears boys clothes, and actually passes for a boy in the presence of others.

The performances by Héran, Malonn Lévana as sister Jeanne and Sophie Cattani as their mother are uniformly excellent. Héran especially gives a beautiful performance and one that goes deeper than the rather shallow waters of the screenplay. It's one of the finest child actor performances of recent years. Unlike many other viewers though, I suspect sweetness is Tomboy's major thematic virtue. Does Sciamma's screenplay have much else to say on the matter of androgyny and even, though never explicitly discussed but certainly raised, homosexuality in young children? I'm not too sure. In fact, I happen to think that Tomboy works best as a look at sisterly bond than anything relating to a girl dressing up as a boy. B

MIFF TALES
Today was the first day of the festival where I didn't feel like I really wanted to just stay in bed and take flu-fighting drugs. I actually felt like perky today. Perhaps I've got the initial wind that most people had on the first day of the festival? That or I'll wake up tomorrow feeling like crap again and I'll wanna punch myself in the face for jinxing myself.

It's gotten to the stage of the festival where I truly, honestly, don't know what day it is or even what time it is. It's also gotten to the stage where I start to see and hear things. During yesterday's films I couldn't help but watch boring paedophile drama Michael and see Buster Bluth! Today, as I was watching The Third Man I routinely got the theme tune to Curb Your Enthusiasm in my brain! That zither music does weird things to the brain, I swear!

MIFF Blogathon: Day 5 (Pianos and Chess in Littlerock)

This blogathon is an initiative of MIFF for their 60th anniversary year. I am one of six bloggers given the mission of seeing 60 films in 17 days and writing, reporting, reviewing and wrangling my way through the tiredness and hunger to bring the festival experience to your computer.

The Piano in a Factory

Dir. Zhang Meng
Running Time: 105mins

China's answer to the American indie quirk genre, Zhang Meng's The Piano in a Factory [Gang de qin] is a surprisingly charming and goofy examination of a band of performers living amidst a dying industrial town as they go about building a piano for their leader's daughter. After divorce has left this troubadour, Wang Quin-yuan's Chen, with no money, the only way to buy the affections of his daughter over those of her materialistic mother, is to build a piano alongside his band mates in a disused factory. Wonderfully lensed by Shu Chou in a series of steely greys, the wintery landscapes of snow and mud are fabulously intertwined with the factories, pipes, tunnels, pillars and traffic sounds of this industrial wasteland.

We routinely hear of China being in an economic resources boom, so it's interesting to see this film's portrayal as less than so, with dank and decaying fashion. The director has thankfully used a light touch with the material and does a lot that stops it from descending into maudlin, depression territory, while skirting the twee, cloying tone that could come from using the Super Mario Bros theme music. The Piano in a Factory proves to be far less obvious and manufactured here than it would be in an American film of the same variety. Combined with utterly bizarre musical sequences, a fantastic lead performance by Qin Hai-lu make this film, despite being too long for sure, an endearing surprise. B+

Littlerock
Dir. Mike Ott
Running Time: 83mins

America through the eyes of two Asian tourists, Littlerock features an evocative sense of place mere minutes into its short running time, but a pair of strange lead performances dulls the experience. Atsuko Okatsuka stars as Atsuko, a young girl travelling through America with her brother. Stuck in Littlerock, California (not to be confused with the actual city of Little Rock, Arkansas), Atsuko finds herself enamoured with the small town Americana vibe (or perhaps just enamoured with anything that isn't a staunch Japanese upbringing) and chooses to stay on as her brother heads to San Fransisco. She makes friends with a curiously fey - yet staunchly heterosexual - drug pusher and wannabe model (Cory Zacharia as Cory), as well as Jordan (Brett L Tinnes), a cute boy who proves hipsters can be found anymore!

The camera of cinematographer Carl McLaughlin (also a co-writer) is the real star of Littlerock, as it latches on to the sights of America that so endear it to many travellers. Okatsuka's performance as Atsumo, unfortunately blank and empty as a tourist with no knowledge of the local language, is not one of the things that the camera appears in awe of. Occasionally piping up with flat narration in the form of letters written home to her father, Okatskuka never seizes upon any emotional reading of her face when given a close-up. She just sits there and she makes for a difficult entry into the story. The character of Cory is the opposite, as there is so much of him given to us that I actually wished they put him away. Why he was written as an obvious homosexual who's willing to pull Zoolander model faces and perform his runway walk at the drop of a hat is beyond me. Was Ott trying to say something about homosexuality in a small town? If he was, I think I missed it. C+

Bobby Fischer Against the World
Dir. Liz Garbus
Running Time: 90mins

Chess: It's not the most exciting sport, is it? Especially when your prime subject has a rule in his big matches that there be no filming allowed. So, what we have here with Liz Garbus' documentary Bobby Fischer Against the World is a movie about chess' greatest player and yet we never actually get to see the man play. Must be a joke, yeah? Unfortunately, no.

Bobby Fischer Against the World is what I called a "wikipedia film". It even goes so far as to divide its (thankfully brief) run time into separately themed chapters of easily digestible themes. Garbus' subject is an interesting one, that's for sure, but where is the punch, where is the excitement? Something to have enlivened this documentary would have been greatly appreciated. As it is it's a standard history lesson that doesn't dig all that deep. C

Michael
Dir. Markus Schleinzer
Running Time: 96mins

It's curious. The banality that I found numbing and dull in Michael is the exact virtue that many others (including fellow blogathon buddy Thomas Caldwell) found in the piece. Was debut director Markus Schleinzer's plan to show that not only are paedophiles evil, but they're also incredibly boring? Sadly, I suspect this was in fact the case, but Schleinzer has gone about the material with the vagueness of blanched brussel sprouts.

The daunting prospect of watching a film about a paedophile who keeps a child locked in the basement is blunted by Schleinzer's desire to do absolutely nothing with it. There isn't anything particularly shocking or daring going on here; we've heard far worse coming out of the mouths of actual dungeon abuse victims. All Michael has is a static camera that thinks its being observational about the world, but instead - from my perspective - came off as scared and uninterested.


To call the lead character of Michael, played by Buster Bluth lookalike Michael Fuith, detached would be an understatement for the festival. As he keeps young Wolfgang locked in his basement, Schleinzer follows his mundane life as he goes to work, goes skiing, tries to have sex with a woman and fails, goes to hospital due to a car accident... and it all plays out in bland, Haneke-lite long shots with ambiguous beginning and end times. There is some interesting work done to imply that this boy has been there for quite some time and that Michael has helf other boys before, but it really does come off as a case of the director letting the subject matter do the heavy lifting and expecting some sort of meaning to bounce out because of it. Michael is arthouse filmmaking at its most maddening. Except, I guess, there's nothing particularly "maddening" about Michael. It just exists. Like brussel sprouts. D

MIFF TALES
I expected walkouts at Michael due to the nature of the plot, but the film's wishy-washy presentation - almost afraid to do or say anything about paedophiles or their victims - gave the large Tuesday night crowd nothing to get particularly huffy about, although I heard bad projection issues meant an earlier screening of Uzo and Scorsese's The King of Comedy meant viewers were left wanting.

Today at Bobby Fischer I had the pleasure of finally meeting Rhett Bartlett of Dial M for Movies. As we sat waiting for the movie to begin a lady began speaking to us. She had recognised me as one of the bloggers and began to explain how she thought it was a conspiracy as to who was chosen to take part. Apparently we'd all been published already (there's a difference between being published and making money, but I couldn't be bothered going into the depressing details right then and there) and how she wanted to be a blogger. Humourously, upon noticing me pull out a notepad and pen she all but screamed "I don't want to be blogger anymore! I don't want to be blogger anymore!"

Apparently all this "writing" stuff was a bit much for her. When I asked if she had been reading or following us on Twitter she said had not and then went about giving herself, Rhett and I popcorn related nicknames. The people you meet... :/