Sayat Nova è un poeta armeno del 18° secolo, un troubadour che cantava i suoi versi in tre lingue diverse, un monaco che trascorse la sua vita nella sofferenza e nel tormento (come viene ripetuto più volte durante il film), innamorato della principessa Anna della Georgia.
Continua la lettura di “Sayat Nova” (“Il colore del melograno”) di Sergei Parajanov
Article by: Luca Bellocchia Translation by: Rita Pasci
An excellent debut film from British director Paul Katis, after working his way up directing short films. The film is based on real events that happened to Mark Wright and a small unit of British soldiers stationed in Afghanistan, on a ridge near the Kajaki dam.
To disable a Taliban roadblock, a three-man patrol offers to carry out the mission. In a dried out river bed, one of them accidentally detonates a landmine, losing his leg in the process. This triggers a tense and claustrophobic narrative, where shots of vast deserted spaces define an indifferent and merciless setting. Although the film was shot outdoors, the action takes place in a very confined space.
What’s thought-provoking is the fact that even though the film is set in Afghanistan, the indigenous population is kept at a distance from the centre of the action, apart from the very beginning of the film.
Katis favours all that is anti-spectacular, the events are told in a dry and blunt manner. The outstanding performance of the actors playing the main characters cannot leave even the most insensitive viewer indifferent.
One thing that’s astonishing is the sense of humour of the soldiers, who, despite the tragic situation they find themselves in, still manage to defuse the tension. The soundtrack is reduced to the essential, the panting of the maimed and wounded and the noises made by flies cast the viewer directly into what’s happening, making everything more real.
Kilo Two Bravo is a film that gives an opportunity to elaborate on a point of view about war that is still unexplored, namely that of real war, where young people die simply because of distraction, misunderstanding, or just pure bad luck.
Ottima opera prima dell’inglese Paul Katis, dopo una gavetta trascorsa con cortometraggi. Il film è basato su fatti realmente accaduti a Mark Wright e ad una piccola unità di soldati britannici di stanza in Afghanistan, su un crinale vicino alla diga Kajaki dam.
Una pattuglia di tre uomini si propone volontaria per rompere un blocco stradale talebano. Nel letto di un fiume prosciugato, uno di loro fa accidentalmente detonare una mina, perdendo una gamba. Questo innesca una trama tesa e claustrofobica in cui inquadrature di ampi spazi deserti forniscono una sensazione di accerchiamento e prigionia.
Si dimostra una rivelazione Osgood Robert “Oz” Perkins, figlio dell’attore Antony Perkins, con la sua prima opera da regista: February, un horror thriller. In precedenza lo avevamo visto come attore in Psycho II e più recentemente nel ruolo di sceneggiatore in The Girl in the Photografs.
February è sicuramente un film che crea atmosfera. In sala si percepiva il gelo pungente delle strade innevate, così bianche che trasmettevano un senso di serenità, ma con la sensazione che non sarebbe durata a lungo. Infatti ben presto queste stesse strade sarebbero state deturpate da strisce rosse di sangue.
Article by: Valentina Di Noi
Translation by: Chiara Toscan
Osgood Robert “Oz” Perkins, son of the actor Antony Perkins, proved to be a wonder with his first work as a director, the horror thriller February. We have already seen him acting in Psycho II and more recently screenwriting The Girl in the Photographs.
February is undoubtedly a film that creates an atmosphere. The theater was immersed in the sharp frost of the snowy streets that were so white they gave a sense of purity. However, such sensation was not meant to last, as soon those streets were going to be spoiled by trails of blood.
The film is set in Kempville, Ontario Canada. It’s February and the students of the all girls boarding school “Kempville” are getting ready to leave for their hometown for the winter break. Kate (Kiernan Shipka) and Rose (Lucy Boynton) are stuck at school because their parents have mysteriously failed to retrieve them. Rose finds herself forced to babysit Kate even if they are not friends but rather share resentment. At the same time, Joan (Emma Roberts), escaped from a mental health facility, is heading towards the school, while Kate starts to have a strange attitude.
In this feature film lingers not only tension but also teenage crisis and inner torments, especially through the characters of Rose and Kate. Its deconstructing montage might create confusion, however, at the end, all the pieces of the puzzle come together.
The film has no shades, only clear contrasts: the breaks between scenes as well as music change are clear.
Just one more thing: pay attention to the cutlery and Donnie Darko‘s bunny ears.
“Questioni di vita e di morte”, la sezione presentata dal Guest Director Julien Temple, non poteva che aprirsi con il film dal quale ha preso il suo titolo, A Matter of Life and Death (titolo italiano: Scala al Paradiso), realizzato nel 1946 da Michael Powell e Emeric Pressburger, regista il primo e sceneggiatore il secondo, considerati tra i massimi esponenti del cinema britannico.
Julien Temple propone una riflessione sulla vita e sulla morte come due condizioni dell’esistenza estremamente connesse tra loro, alle quali spesso il pensiero umano cerca di sfuggire, ma che bisogna, prima o poi, avere il coraggio di affrontare.
Oggi la Grecia è un paese socialmente e culturalmente in crisi, eppure il cinema nazionale è sempre molto attento nel monitorare questa crisi e nel coglierne ogni minimo segnale di movimento. Non esiste una vera e propria Scuola che riunisca la nuova generazione di cineasti greci, ma ciò non significa che non siano presenti caratteri comuni alle diverse poetiche.
Article by: Alessandro Amato
Translation by: Cristiana Caffiero
In aesthetic terms “Catharsis” means purifying the human passions that are understood and overcome with art. However, this word comes from Ancient Classic Greece and is connected with a sort of religious ritual that requires to purify both body and soul. Nowadays Greece is facing a cultural and social crisis: in few words it is an adrift country. Despite this, Greek cinema is constantly focusing on this national crisis and ready to supervise its flow. There is no real school of contemporary Greek cinema but there are several common artistic trends in these Greek movie makers.
Interruption is the first feature film by Yorgos Zois and without doubt follows this trend. This film starts with some out of focus lights blurring in a dark space. These lights stand for something not clear but alive that is going to bump soon into an unexpected future. This obscure element is actually an ancient man who’s completely naked. There’s a young blond and short haired woman with him. Those lights we have noticed at the very beginning of the film are actually Clitennestra and her lover Aegystus. Nonetheless the old man and the girl are Agamemnon and Cassandra. The starting events of The Oresteia are well known: the queen and her lover will kill the king who has come back to Troy after many years with another woman. The clash between Cassandra and the new masters of the palace occurs in a glass cube in the middle of the stage. According to mythology there should be then Orestes coming back from his exile and his vengeance versus his mother. Anyway the performance is suddenly stopped by a group of young people running through the stage and telling us they are the Chorus. Their leader is a black haired guy with an amused smile who takes some people from the audience as volunteers. They will introduce themselves and take active part in the show.
“What’s happening here is fiction or reality?” this is the question made by to a member of the Chorus to a girl.
“It’s the reality” replies the girl but she doesn’t look very convinced. The wonderful event this movie is trying to show is the theme of being guilty putting it aside for a while and playing it without misleading it. Now it’s high time to recollect Pirandello.
This movie is about a nowadays issue. At the end the young man kills himself while the theatre audience stands up thinking the tragedy came to its end. He’s another victim of nowadays spread indifference. It’s time that the actors and people taking part in the tragedy take off their clothes as a metaphor of their shame. But if they purified themselves and cleansed their guilty souls what about us and our Catharsis?
Nell’immaginaria città anglosassone Everytown è in corso la seconda guerra mondiale: guerra iniziata nel 1940 e che proseguirà fino al 2040. Questa è la ragione per cui i cittadini stessi, nipoti e i bisnipoti, non si ricordano nemmeno i motivi per i quali tale guerra fosse iniziata. Il film Things to Come è stato diretto da William Menzies, uno dei maggiori scenografi della storia del cinema, che crea un gioco visivo tra utopia e distopia.
Continua la lettura di “Things to Come” (“La vita futura”) di William Cameron Menzies
Londra, 1899. George è un brillante inventore che mette a punto un sorprendente marchingegno in grado di viaggiare nel tempo. Così inizia ad esplorare il futuro, a vedere i progressi ma anche gli orrori degli uomini (due, addirittura tre guerre mondiali). Il suo percorso lo porta lontano 800.000 anni rispetto al presente, in un futuro in cui l’umanità è divisa tra gli angelici e ingenui Eloi del mondo esterno e gli spietati e mostruosi Morlock, abitanti dei bassifondi della Terra.
Continua la lettura di “The Time Machine” (“L’uomo che visse nel futuro”) di George Pal
Mario Balsamo, dopo il successo di Noi non siamo come James Bond, vincitore del premio della giuria al TFF30, ritorna sulla scena torinese con un altro spaccato della sua vita: il documentario Mia madre fa l’attrice, uno dei quattro film italiani in concorso quest’anno al Torino Film Festival. Continua la lettura di “Mia madre fa l’attrice” di Mario Balsamo
Article by: Lara Vallino Translation by: Andrea Cristallini
MIA MADRE FA L’ATTRICE
Documentaries have often been overlooked or dimissed as not suitable for cinema screenings on the grounds that they are too specialized, although they bring to the big screen unknown or intentionally ignored realities. Conversely, after his succesful Noi non siamo come James Bond, which gained him the Jury Prize at TFF 30, Mario Balsamo makes his comeback in Turin with another slice of his life: the documentary Mia madre fa l’attrice, one of the four Italian movies in the main section of the festival.
No polar bears or exotic indigenous peoples then, here we are in fact presented with a typical emotional connection, the one between a mother and her son. Since the dawn of times, this indissoluble bond has always been subject to study, and this is still the case today. Either audiences are not tired of listening to the same old story, or perhaps a universally accepted definition has not been agreed upon yet.
Mario Balsamo shows us the very self of his mother: a tough character, a troublesome person, the woman he loved most in his life. He also reveals the difficulties in their relationship: they seem to have become more distant than ever, separated by a wall of mutual incomprehension.
However, sometimes something happens that teaches us how to look at life from a new perspective and after the events he related in his documentary in 2012, Mario is not the same man anymore. He wants to reconnect with the multifaceted woman and be finally able to love her not just as an actress but also as his mother. He takes the most important film in which his mother acted in the 1950s, Piero Costa’s La Barriera della legge, as an opportunity to get close to her again through their shared passion for the film art. Costa’s film is a constant remembrance for Silvana and an obsession for Mario, although neither of them has ever seen it.
They embark on the search for this cinematographic work, that appeared to be no longer available and that they will eventually find uninteresting once they get to see it.
But it’s a well-known fact that it’s the journey that counts. They go on the road in a Lancia Fulvia 810, around Pietrasanta and Versilia, visiting the very same places where Silvana would display her talent many years ago. We witness amusing and moving dialogues, halfway between reality and fantasy, gradually leading to a reconciliation which results in a long-awaited hug. A happy ending for the director, who may finally manage to see in Silvana Stefanini a mother, rather than just an actress.
“Hush bye bye, don’t you cry, go to sleepy little baby, when you wake you shall have all the pretty little horses…” Harper ha solo quattordici anni. Canta la ninnananna la sera, e la mattina accudisce quattro fratelli: Elias, il ribelle di 12 anni, Arri (8 anni), Ezra (5 anni) e Jonah di 2 anni. Essere la sorella maggiore non è una punizione ma lo diventa se mamma è altrove, persa in un periglioso conflitto con la propria autostima.
Continua la lettura di “God Bless the Child” di Robert Machoian e Rodrigo Ojeda-Beck
Article by: Alessandro Arpa Translation by: Andrea Cristallini
Hush bye bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep little baby, when you wake you shall have all the pretty little horses… Harper is only 14. She sings lullabies at night and in the morning she looks after her four brothers: Elias, a 12-year-old rebel, Arri (8 years), Ezra (5 years ) and Jonah (2 years). Being the elder sister is not necessarily a punishment but it can become something close to it if mum is away, lost in a serious struggle with her self-esteem.
A blend of the cinema verité and a cinematographic remake of Tierney Gearon’s photographs, God Bless the child is the second feature film by Robert Machoian and Rodrigo Ojda-Beck. The film, which premiered at SXSW Festival in 2015, is the American response to Hirokazu Koreeda’s Nobody Knows. As opposed to the Japanese director’s film, where the mother is an escort, in the work of Machoian and Ojda-Beck she is a depressed woman, a ghost who leaves the house at dawn abandoning her children and comes back at night, while everyone is asleep, except Harper, who has grown up against her will. “Sorry” is her only line in the film, with neither a close-up nor a single frame showing her face. The film drowns in a fog of sadness. Several group scenes are included in the film, with delicate and innocent children songs in the background. In the epic fight between the brothers in the backyard, as they wear boxing gloves resembling Hulk’s hands, game and pain merge and pain eventually makes the loser cry. God bless the child is a vivid and realistic portrait of childhood. And for a change, children are not asked to run after the film, but it’s the film itself that surrenders to their genuine interpretation. And when the sun goes down and everyone is asleep, the door opens and there she is, back again. She gets into bed with her four children, in a shroud that envelopes lonely souls. And Harper is there, staring ruthlessly at her, as life gets harder and harder: hush bye bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep little baby, when you wake you shall have all the pretty little horses.
Article by: Luca Richiardi Translation by: Cristiana Caffiero
Life is surreal.
There are movies with no soul which just try to step towards any directions without a reason. There are movies that are just empty and dreary. Well, this movie is just their opposite. “Tag” is directed by Sion Sono: it violently breaks in and manages to find a sharp conclusion both in a literal and figurative way. It confuses the feelings and perception of its audience but it doesn’t hide the fact that it has lost the sense of perception itself. This film needs to show its total dismay in order to penetrate the subconscious side of its audience and finally break through its conscious one. However, “Tag” is not addressed to an ordinary audience, for the simple reason that the movie is directed by Sion Sono. It’s a typical Japanese film with its peculiar artistic language which could by perceived as unfamiliar by a western audience, or at least by an audience not acquainted with Japanese pop culture.
This kind of audience might fail to notice the potential for social criticism hidden behind an excess of grotesque violence, which may appear then as empty divertissement: what has been defined, in jargon (particularly in the world of anime, manga and videogames enthusiasts) sa fanservice.
What exactly is fanservice? Excessive and pointless violence, schoolgirls in extra short miniskirts which are constantly lifted, eroticism, promiscuity, reification of the woman.
“Tag” contains all these elements. It’s thrown onto the screen in a shameless, exaggerated, intentionally provocative way, as if to ask: “Is this what you want?” As the film unravels, laughing at all this becomes a gesture that makes the spectator feel guilty.
This collage made of absurdities, which people may have fun in, is a heaven for “nerd” teenagers and hides a cruel and dreadful hell. It reveals itself step by step, while we follow the young female protagonist Mitsuko in her absurd suffering.
Among all this violence, torture and death, her loss of identity is what mostly harms. It makes her appear to be an empty box or a mannequin identical to many others. She looks as a figure, whose not uniform nature may be compared to that of Jesus and therefore doomed to sacrifice. It is a kind of essential sacrifice, a spontaneous gesture which gets away from this torture pattern felt as a function of a sadistic pleasure. And it takes place exactly in front of a parody which blames and despises these masses of obsessive fans.
What is such a heroic sacrifice aimed at? It is understood, its aim matches the film’s one: a sabotage internal to the system so that it can penetrate deeper and, hopefully, it can be able to reach and consequently wake up consciences, in order to take them away from this grotesque circle of hell.
Life is surreal.
Ci sono film che faticano a trovare un’anima e arrancano in mille direzioni; film che combinano il vuoto del proprio senso al tedio della visione stessa. Ecco, questo film è l’esatto opposto di tutto ciò.
Tag-Tag di Sion Sono è un film che irrompe violento in ogni direzione per poi riuscire (letteralmente e figurativamente) a tirare le fila del proprio discorso nella conclusione; un film che disorienta la percezione, ma non per celare la sua ricerca disperata di un senso smarrito, anzi. Il senso del film ha bisogno di un disorientamento totale per poter emergere nella coscienza dello spettatore. Ma sicuramente non di uno spettatore qualsiasi, perchè Tag-Tag è pur sempre un film di Sion Sono, nonché un film profondamente giapponese, che parla di e alla propria cultura e nazione, e che risulterà criptico ad uno spettatore occidentale che si trovi a digiuno di pop culture nipponica. Per questo tipo di spettatore il rischio è quello di non saper interpretare il potenziale di critica sociale nascosta dietro eccessi di violenza grottesca che possono quindi risultare divertissement fini a sé stessi: ovverosia all’incirca quello che è definito in maniera gergale (soprattutto negli ambienti di cultori manga, anime e videogames) come fanservice.
Cos’è il fanservice? Violenza eccessiva e gratuita, studentesse con gonne supercorte e che per giunta si sollevano continuamente, erotismo, promiscuità, reificazione della donna. Tutto ciò è presente in Tag-Tag. E’ buttato sullo schermo in modo sfrontato, esagerato, volutamente provocatorio. Come a chiederci: “è questo che volete?” Più il film avanza e più il gesto di ridere divertiti davanti a tutto ciò diventa un gesto colpevole. Questo carrozzone di assurdità che tanto può divertire, questo paradiso per adolescenti nerd, nasconde un inferno crudele, agghiacciante, che si rivela di minuto in minuto, mentre seguiamo Mitsuko, la giovane protagonista, nel suo calvario assurdo.
Fra tutta questa violenza e morte, ciò che più ferisce è la perdita di identità della protagonista che la rende un recipiente vuoto, un manichino uguale a tanti, una figura cristica, e, pertanto, destinata al sacrificio. Un sacrificio necessario, un gesto spontaneo che sfugge a questa logica di tortura in funzione di un godimento sadico, compiuto all’interno di una parodia che accusa proprio le masse di fans ossessivi.
Un sacrificio eroico, ma a quale scopo? E’ chiaramente il medesimo scopo che ha il film: compiere un sabotaggio interno al sistema, che possa quindi penetrare a fondo e, si spera, risvegliare qualche coscienza per sottrarla a questo grottesco girone infernale.
La sezione TFFDoc si apre con un film molto interessante del regista Rithy Panh, documentarista di origine cambogiana che da sempre compie ricerche sull’individuazione delle ingiustizie sociali vissute dal suo popolo. S21: La macchina di morte dei Khmer Rossi, premiato a Cannes nel 2003, ne è un esempio. Gli eventi legati al regime di Phnom Penh l’hanno costretto a fuggire dalla sua terra natale per rifugiarsi in Francia dove ha iniziato i suoi studi cinematografici.
La France est notre patrie si apre con una sequenza che mostra la giungla inarrestabile e sovrana che con le sue radici inghiotte gli spazi di una casa. Probabilmente è una metafora del tema che il regista sta per affrontare.
Continua la lettura di “La France est notre patrie” di Rithy Panh
Article by: Alberto Morbelli Translation by: Lorenzo Matarazzo
TFFDOC section opens with a quite interesting work by director Rithy Panh, a documentarist of Cambodian origins, who has always made a point of his research on social inequities, sometimes experienced personally. The film “S21: The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine”, presented and awarded at Cannes in 2003, is a case in point; the consequences of the regime forced him to run away from his native Cambodia to find shelter in France, where he began his film studies.
“La France est notre patrie” starts with a sequence showing an overwhelming and devastating jungle which swallows with its roots the area of a house that does not belong to such a landscape. This is probably a metaphor for the topic that the director intends to take on in this work.
The documentary narrates in a personal way the history of the French colonies in Indochina for the whole course of the “rêve”. Rithy Panh softly deals with these issues, without ever stating his anticolonial opinions. The extracts were selected from film footage (silent, black and white and in colour). They show the various aspects of the Federation of French colonial possessions in Indochina: they’re scenes of daily life with its faces, constructions of great public works, industrialisation and agriculture. They seem like beautiful scenarios made out of progress and exploration of this foreign and exotic land, the way France saw it at the time.
Skilfully, the director manages to weave a story based on the encounter and clash between two worlds. He identifies and shows throughout the narration two opposed protagonists: the colonising “white man” and the indigenous “bon sauvage”. He lets the archive footage, interspersed with his tableaux, do the talking. The captions reassure the public on the reason why it’s crucial for the colonising mission to prove successful for everyone’s sake, just like a newsreel of that time would have. It’s up to the editing and soundtrack, however, to give us the first clues about the goal that Rithy Panh wants to achieve. A message that slowly reveals itself, getting us farther and farther away from what we see and read.
It is an intimate process of awareness and discovery for the audience. Images and meanings develop as two parallel lines, only meeting as a result of personal reasoning. Thus, the self-proclaimed colonial reality becomes its very own condemnation. An acute expedient which turns the flowing of time into a weapon which acts as a boomerang.
The documentary constitutes a fascinating history lesson on the events that occurred during the colonization of Indochina, as well as a profound consideration about what we perceive in the present time. The eyes looking at those images have changed. Our society has a different take on that material now. It is a subtle social criticism on past historical events and on contemporary too. Undoubtedly, as the above-mentioned beginning sequence teaches us: nature swallows with time anything produced by white man with the alibi of progress. In conclusion, all communities should be the one and only rulers of themselves or it will be for posterity to judge.
Article by: Alessandro Arpa Translation by: Chiara Toscan
TF<<Chi la ridusse a tale? E questo è peggio,
Che di catene ha carche ambe le braccia;
Sì che sparte le chiome e senza velo
Siede in terra negletta e sconsolata,
Nascondendo la faccia
Tra le ginocchia, e piange.
Piangi, che ben hai donde, Italia mia…>>.
After 27th edition’s winning film La bocca del lupo (The Wolf’s Mouth) TFF dedicated the pre-opening night to the latest laborious work by Pietro Marcello, Bella e perduta (Lost and Beautiful), the only Italian film contending for Locarno International film festival 2015. This bitter tale fuses documentary and fantastical fiction, while poetically denouncing the collapse of human-nature relationship. The film also functions as an off-key requiem for the Italian Republic, a frank protest against the apathy of an immortal caste system of defeatists. The protagonist, Tommaso Cestrone, is a humble, real-life shepherd in line with Marcello’s stock characters, the so renamed “Angel of Carditello” is the only volunteer serving the Royal Estate of Carditello which simbolises the ill-treated and forgotten beauty. Piles of debris and tyres pollute the magic atmosphere of the place that has become a dump for memories. Tommaso is the only one committed to the enhancement from the indifference of the world. Tommaso, among his last wishes, wants to save Sarchiapone, a young talking buffalo that, at times, recalls the melancholy poetry hidden in Balthazar, the donkey protagonist of Au Hasard Balthazar by Robert Bresson. At this stage of the film, Pulcinella appears from the obscure bowels of Vesuvius. He arrives in the nowadays Campania to grant Tommaso’s wish. Pulcinella and Sarchiapone embark on a journey in the forgotten territories of “the land of fire”: a sore journey without hope. Bella e Perduta is a protean film that had a difficult birth. The initial intention of the director was changed during the course of production due to the sudden cardiac death of the real Tommaso Cestrone. For this reason, the film was completed after two years of development. The only choice left to the director was to merge the hints of reality with dreamlike situations. The figure of Pulcinella connects the primordial meaning of psychopomp very intelligently for the immortals. Although the protagonists improvise around a default scenerio, it is difficult to reach the sincere expressive power of transexual Mary Monaco and Enzo Motta, who are the protagonists of “La Bocca del Lupo”. Tommaso and the interpreter of Pulcinella are suspended and suddenly crushed by the power of nature, mother and executioner at the same time. The foolishness of human being is expressed by the look and subjective shots of Sarchiapone who hopes to survive at the mercy of man. But now eveything is destined to collapse and takes attention to the tomb of Tommaso: <<Will we remember this land? >>
Probably not. Maybe yes but it will be very late, and there will remain neither your tears Sarchiapone… nor ours.
<<Chi la ridusse a tale? E questo è peggio,/ Che di catene ha carche ambe le braccia; / Sì che sparte le chiome e senza velo / Siede in terra negletta e sconsolata, / Nascondendo la faccia / Tra le ginocchia, e piange. / Piangi, che ben hai donde, Italia mia…>>.
Dopo La bocca del lupo, vincitore della 27a edizione del Torino Film Festival, il Tff dedica la serata di pre-apertura al nuovo travagliato lavoro di Pietro Marcello intitolato Bella e perduta. Unico film italiano in concorso al Festival Internazionale del Film Locarno 2015, Bella e perduta è una docu-fiaba amara, una denuncia poetica del collasso tra natura e uomo. Ma è anche un requiem stonato per la Repubblica italiana, un candido urlo contro gli indifferenti, casta immortale di disfattisti.