This spring the Walker Art Center will present nearly two full months of renowned international films as part of their 17th Annual Women With Vision International Film Festival (March 12-27) and their second annual Iranian film series, Views From Iran (April 9-30).
This will be a chance for Twin Citians to not only see some high-profile local premieres (Claire Denis' celebrated 35 Shots of Rum, the Joan Jett biopic The Runaways, buzzed-about documentary El General, to name a few), but also hear from distinguished filmmakers, including the Iranian director Rakhshan Bani-Etemad, who will give a master class lecture on April 23.
Below are the highlights from both series. A number of these will undoubtedly fill up (The Runaways is already sold out), so I definitely recommend following the links for each film and purchasing tickets in advance.
Filmmaking irony - the movie about nonviolence features more disturbing violence...
A few months ago I was flipping channels when I came across Ridley Scott's suffocatingly macho Black Hawk Down. I came in right after one of the shootouts on the streets of Mogadishu, and the American soldiers were collecting their dead and wounded. One of the soldiers was severed in half, another was simply in pieces - a helmet here, a blown-off hand on the ground there. Scott took his sweet time focusing in on these bloody casualties of war, no doubt attempting to make us experience a soldier's horror as we gobbled our popcorn and slurped our soda.
It didn't work, at least for me. I hardly reacted while watching these scenes, and I certainly didn't cringe in the same way that I remembered cringing when I saw it in the theater. Why wasn't I bothered by this graphic, based-on-true-life violence in Black Hawk Down? I didn't know, and it was an odd realization.
Flash forward a couple of months, and I'm watching CNN just after the Iranian presidential election results are announced. I follow the story for a couple of days (as I'd recently seen Letters to the President) and, as the protests begin heating up, I see a brief news flash about a protester being shot and killed in the street. This fact doesn't faze me (it happens frequently in many countries), but yet I'm drawn to the significance of it happening in Iran at this time and under the heavy load of state censorship.
Fatefully curious, I go online to read more about what happened (it was still breaking news at the time), and in literally no time at all I find myself almost accidentally watching a video that will over the course of the next few weeks be played repeatedly around the world. Many of you may have now seen it - the death of Neda Agha-Soltan. (The photo used here is from the comprehensive Wikipedia page about the incident, the simple existence of which proves how bizarre of a future is in store for us with cell phone videos and YouTube.)
Because the story was not yet well known and the video not yet widely seen, I really didn't know what I was watching in the first few seconds. Eventually, and ultimately, I have to consider Neda's death the most disturbing footage I've seen since watching the live destruction of the WTC towers on 9/11. Considering the saturation of "torture porn" movies, beheading videos, "Faces of Death" and otherwise increasingly violent video games and movies in the last seven years, some of you might find my statement outrageous. But in fact I've gone to great lengths to avoid all of that stuff, so seeing this video and knowing it was real (as opposed to United 93, which was nearly as unbearable but still ultimately fake), well it shook me to the core. I felt ill for a couple of days. I couldn't sleep for fear that I was going to have graphic nightmares. The scene replayed in my head over and over and over and over: Felled by a high-caliber shot to her heart, Neda lands on her back in a state of shock. The people around her immediately try to stop the bleeding from her upper chest, but they're clearly no match for a cardiovascular system in chaos. As her brain function diminishes, Neda's eyes go cock-eyed in every direction before rolling back into her head, just as hot, dark crimson blood uncontrollably pours from her nose, mouth, and eventually eyes. In a matter of seconds, she is gone, the screams around her lost to silence.
Just thinking about this again has me disturbed, and I had to make that photo of her deliberately small because I still can't stand to look at it.
Why did this video, which is so much less graphic than so many movies I see on a regular basis, completely wreck me? The obvious answer is that it's real footage, and not fake blood on a set with a director who's just ordered another take before breaking for lunch. No, there's one take, and that's an actual live human, and her life is literally pouring out of her body as I watch. And that deeply disturbs me.
But I don't feel like it's that simple, and in the month or so since seeing the video I've been much more curious about and aware of my reactions to violence on screen. For example, if it looks real, does it really make it harder to watch? If the director wants to make it look "really" real but it ends up looking fake (Black Hawk Down, recently Public Enemies), does it make it easier to watch? If the violence is inflicted on people I don't know or care about, does it make it easier to watch? What about women and children? Am I entertained by shootouts and explosions, or do I simply tolerate them? Surely if there was a gunfight in the hallway of my apartment, or a car bomb explosion on my street, I wouldn't consider it "awesome". Right?
I haven't really gained any clear insights from these questions over the last month, but one clue, or maybe just another confusing addition, came just the other day. Flipping through channels again, I landed on Richard Attenborough's Gandhi, and the scene in which more than 1,000 Indians are violently gunned down during, ironically, a non-violent protest against the Brits. It was horrifying to see men, women, and children massacred, but this being 1982, the death was not visually graphic, at least in the blood-spatteringly way that it would be if it were made in 2009 (indeed, Gandhi was rated PG). Yet despite the lack of gore, body parts, and blood-soaked corpses, I found myself actually more disturbed by the Gandhi shootout than by the Black Hawk Down bloodbath.
There are all kinds of possible explanations for this, and maybe I'll consider them here at another time. This post was really just a spontaneous reaction to the trifecta of the Neda video and those two movie scenes that I saw in the last couple of months. I guess it was my attempt at simply beginning to process how I may or may not have been sensitized or desensitized by violence on screen throughout the course of my life. I would hope that most people have the same thoughts from time to time; if you have any insights feel free to share them.
As I follow the coverage of the presidential election and ensuing chaos in Iran over the last week, I'm continually reminded of the documentary Letters to the President, which I saw and briefly highlighted at MSPIFF in April. It deserved a little more discussion at that time, but I was so impressed by another Iranian film, The Song of Sparrows (which I saw about an hour later), that the immediate relevance of the documentary may have been diminished. However, I do remember that at the conclusion of Letters to the President is a simple title card informing the viewer that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is planning to run for re-election in the summer of 2009 (the film originally premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival in February of this year).
And now here we are, in the summer of 2009, and an imperfect film has foreshadowed a perfect political storm. (And here are some thoughts on what the storm might do to Iranian film in the future.)
Here are the broad details as I understand them for those of you who may not be keeping as close an eye on the situation: Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (pictured above) took a populist approach on the way to winning the Iranian presidential election in 2005. Since that time he has received both love and loathing from Iranians and the international community ("Axis of Evil", anyone?). As in the U.S., the office of president is a four year term (though unlike the U.S., it's not the highest official position), and Ahmadinejad ran for re-election this year.
The election took place last week and what was predicted by some to be a very tight race between Ahmadinejad and his rival, Mir Hossein Moussavi, ended up being a landslide, nearly 2-to-1 in favor of Ahmadinejad. Moussavi's supporters, numbering in the hundreds of thousands, have taken to the streets in protest.
Photos: The New York Times, Vahid Salemi/Associated Press
What does all of this mean in the context of Letters to the President? Two things, from my possibly misinformed observations:
1.) As evidenced by the interviews in the film, there appears to be a silent (but now vocal) majority of Iranians who oppose Ahmadinejad, and they appear to be concentrated in the capital of Tehran, which has seen the brunt of the action this week.
2.) Despite Ahmadinejad's showy display of populism in creating an entire government department to reply to the letters that are sent to him, a number of those responses must have been lost in the mail. Or, more likely, his opponents weren't the ones sending him letters in the first place, but the ones simply waiting and strategizing to replace him in this election.
It's one of the weaknesses of Petr Lom's film that we don't get a better sense of the history of Iran or the official policies surrounding democratic freedom, but in broadly surveying the opinions of the Iranian people, Letters to the President offers fascinating food for thought. The film is currently still on a worldwide festival tour, though it doesn't look like it will be back in the U.S. anytime soon, at least not in theaters. In the meantime, check out these clips offered from the film's official website:
(The Song of Sparrows opens this weekend at the Landmark Edina Cinema)
Sometimes I watch movies like The Song of Sparrows and shake my head (out of a sense of righteous global-mindedness, of course). There couldn't be more obstacles in its way in catching on with American audiences: it has subtitles, it's one of "those artsy foreign films", and - hide the women and children - it's from Iran. I get it, we don't want to feel anything or think about anything when we go to movies, and in the midst of this recession we're desperately looking to escape as much as possible. To Las Vegas (The Hangover), to prehistoric times (Land of the Lost), or even to outer space (Star Trek).
But is it really true that people are looking to take nothing from the movies they see? Really? Nothing but a few laughs to distract us from reality? Just seems like a strange way to spend our money; it's not like there's a shortage of free entertainment these days. My point is, movies like The Song of Sparrows, which truly is accessible, charming, and relevant to people from all countries (especially the U.S.), are too often tossed aside or overlooked because people fear they're weird, boring, overlong, serious, tragic, or something worse. Well here's a surprise: this movie is none of those things, and its comedy is sure to be both more original and more humanistic than repetitive scenes of Will Ferrell fleeing dinosaurs (though truthfully, he'll probably make that pretty funny).
From celebrated Iranian director Majid Majidi (Children of Heaven), The Song of Sparrows is at its heart a parable about capitalism and the conditioned human tendency to perpetually want more than what you have at any given time, even if you don't know why (see: greed). It's an Aesop's Fable brought to life, and like Aesop, Majidi (who also co-wrote the film) knows how to effectively draw us into the lives of his archetypal characters. Here, it's Karim, a devoted husband, father and ostrich farmer living in a modest rambler on the dusty outskirts of Tehran. His family doesn't live lavishly, but Karim is a talented handyman and provides for his wife and children what others in the community may not have, such as fuzzy television reception and massive ostrich egg omelets.Although Karim is not inundated by advertising in his daily life and the local culture doesn't appear to put much value in material possessions, when hard luck takes Karim's steady job from him he gets an idea in his head that there must be more lucrative - not just steady, but lucrative - opportunities awaiting him. Maybe he's influenced by his son, who along with his young friends want to start a goldfish farming business, but regardless of the reason, when Karim eventually does get a taste of easy money in Tehran, it becomes an almost overpowering elixir. He's discovered that you can make a lot of money without necessarily toiling away in the fields all day. More specifically, he's discovered entrepreneurship, and his outlook on life will never be the same. If it still sounds like The Song of Sparrows actually is "weird, boring, overlong, serious, tragic, or something worse", I guess I suggest you check out the trailer below, though even that doesn't fully illustrate the outstanding performance by Mohammed Amir Naji, or the striking cinematography by Turaj Mansuri, or the dry comedy lingering behind so many scenes. The movie is simultaneously operating on multiple layers and, under the sure hand of Majidi, successfully avoids farce even when some twists in the story feel contrived. Just when you want to casually dismiss another emotional outburst or bizarre occurrence as a you've-gotta-be-kidding-me gag, you realize that, well, it's true - everybody has some amusing experiences like that. And really, isn't that how you learn lessons in life? About taking risks, appreciating what you have, getting through difficult times, raising a family, and everything else? Of course, and like one of those humorous learning experiences you had years ago and still share with friends and family, you may find The Song of Sparrows offers similar anecdotes that you aren't likely to forget.
Grade: Writing - 9 Acting - 10 Production - 10 Emotional Impact - 9 Music - 4
After seeing some good to great movies at MSPIFF last weekend, I hit Il Divo and Heart of Fire (review likely forthcoming) on Monday and A Walk to Beautiful on Thursday. I had a tough time following Il Divo due to either confusion or exhaustion (or both), but I still appreciated it and on balance I've yet to see anything resembling a "bad" film at this festival.
I know it seems like I'm being overly generous with praise, but I'm not surprised that I've enjoyed most of these movies because I've been selective in only seeing the most promising ones (highly recommended international award winners). Sure, it may take away from the adventure of just randomly picking movies, but if I'm paying for all of these I'm going to do my best to make sure it's worth it. As it's happened, then, a number of them really have been among the best films that I've seen in 2009 thus far.
Letters to the President (B+) Iran (2009); Directed by Petr Lom
In one way, the most surprising thing about this documentary was the fact that it was made at all. Filmmaker Petr Lom somehow gained behind-the-scenes access to the nerve center of Iran’s public relations department (and yes, they have a busy one), ironic because of the number of times when someone is told to not speak to the cameras. Taking the popular practice of sending letters to President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Lom ultimately focuses on the differing political attitudes between the rural and urban populations of Iran. What he finds is perhaps not surprising for Americans, but it nonetheless casts serious doubt on Ahmadinejad’s genuine desire to be a man of the people. His khaki jacket in place of a suit appears to be for show only, and a few interviews (in particular with two incredible mural painters) really drive home the message that true democracy is not alive nor well in Iran. Letters to the President is a good primer for those wanting a look at the situation ahead of the country’s presidential election this summer. It does not play again at MSPIFF but should probably get some limited distribution in 2009.
The Song of Sparrows (A) Iran (2008); Directed by Majid Majidi
I followed up Letters to the President with the richly layered film that Iran submitted to last year’s Oscars. (With every submission I see I become more convinced 2008 was an amazing year for foreign films.) The Song of Sparrows, from acclaimed director Majid Majidi (Children of Heaven), is the kind of movie that lures you in with lighthearted comedy and sympathetic characters, making its necessary tragedies both unexpected and emotionally turbulent (the sold-out theater audience let loose with anguished cries more than once). As the film’s main character, an ostrich farmer turned motorbike cabbie, Reza Naji delivers a perfectly nuanced performance. A second screening was added because a reported 150 people were turned away from this showing on Friday; watch for a more thought-out review before The Song of Sparrows arrives in Minneapolis on May 29th.
Three Monkeys (A) Turkey (2008); Directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan A brooding, exceptionally crafted thriller, Three Monkeys was another highly acclaimed addition in this year’s festival. Following a year in the life of a Turkish family mixed up in some very bad things, it builds an almost unbearable amount of tension in the last 20 minutes. Delicately shot in a washed-out sepia tone, it simply doesn’t allow you to look away from the screen; any and every detail is important (not surprisingly, Ceylan won the Best Director award at Cannes 2008). I haven’t Ceylan’s Distant or Climates, but the latter is now playing for free through May 3 on the The Auteurs website, where Three Monkeys also premiered for a 24 hour period yesterday. If you missed it and you’re not seeing Moon, get your tickets now for it’s second showing TONIGHT at 7:15 PM.
Jerichow (A-) Germany (2008); Directed by Christian Petzold I was on the fence about Jerichow until about five minutes before its showtime, but when I realized it was by the director of Yella (which I regrettably missed last year) and starred Benno Fürmann (The Princess and the Warrior), it was an easy decision. Wow, was that worth it. It's the impossibly simple story of three deceptively complex characters (the suspense comes easily as we learn about their backstories at the same time they do) who just want a little something more in their lives. If not for a convenient plot device in the last few minutes, Jerichow would have been nearly perfect, but even that flaw doesn't significantly take away from it. I don't know why it's so hard for American directors to make suspense thrillers like this. Get rid of the manipulative music and memorable quotes; all that's needed are believable characters making questionable - but not unreasonable - decisions. Jerichow doesn't play again at MSPIFF but it will receive limited distribution later this spring/summer.
Tokyo Sonata (A-) Japan/Netherlands/China (2008); Directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Winner of the Un Certain Regard Jury Prize at Cannes last year, Kiyoshi Kurosawa's meditative drama about an unhappy family reminded me of American Beauty set in Tokyo. They're moody, unfulfilled, and don't particularly like or trust each other. Taken in context it's a pretty powerful illustration of what may be happening in many cities as the unemployment numbers rise, but even without the topical urgency it provides a fascinating look at contemporary Japanese culture. A fair amount of patience is required on the part of the viewer, but I found it worth the wait as Tokyo Sonata boasts my favorite ending scene of any movie so far this year. It also does not play again at MSPIFF, but is definitely recommended on its return to Minneapolis on May 15.
Yep, it was a high-quality weekend at MSPIFF, and the four on my list for this week (Moon, Tyson, Oblivion, The Infinite Border) look pretty promising. I cannot take this festival for granted.
