May 24, 2013

CANNES 2013 REVIEW - MY SWEET PEPPER LAND (Directed by Hiner Saleem)

by Marc van de Klashorst

Iraqi Kurdistan, a remote village. A new sheriff comes to town. It is probably a very unexpected setting for a traditional Western, but Hiner Saleem makes it seem the most natural location in his Un Certain Regard entry My Sweet Pepper Land.  Peppered (no pun intended) with humor, at times morbid, this conventional but utterly watchable tale of two outsiders finding each other in a close-knit community adds regional social commentary to a straightforward film to give it just that little extra.

Although Golshifteh Farahani as Govend is put front and center for all press materials for the film, actually Korkmaz Arslan as Baran is the slightly more leading character. A police officer from Erbil (the Kurdish capital since it became an autonomous region from Iraq in 2005) chooses to become the police commander in a small town in the 'Bermuda Triangle' of the border area between Iraq, Iran, and Turkey. On the last part of the trip, while on horseback, he meets Govend, a young elementary school teacher on her way to the same town. Upon arrival, both are regarded with suspicion by the townsfolk, certainly by local kingpin Aziz Aga (Tarik Akreyî) and his gang, who run the town and control smuggling in the surrounding mountains. Baran has come to lay down the law, and he is not easily cowed, even though the Aga gang tries to intimidate both him and the teacher. As the two grow closer together, rumors spread and soon the two are pitted against the rest of the town, with a confrontation with Aziz Aga and his band inevitable.

Director Hiner Saleem uses every Western trope known to man, right down to wide sunset shots, to create a sort of 'John Ford in the Middle East.' Some shots in the surrounding mountains are in fact right out of the John Ford playbook, as is the loner character of Baran. Add to that a soundtrack filled with Western motifs and Americana, and you have a film that could have been released by an American studio in the '50s.

May 24, 2013

CANNES 2013 REVIEW - L'INCONNU DU LAC (Directed by Alain Guiraudie)

by David Acacia

L’inconnu du lac  is a beautifully shot, atmospheric summer revelry. During the prime days of summer, homosexual men travel to a beach by a lake, and go into the neighbouring woods to procure some quick, easy, and discreet summer fun. Every day Franck (Pierre Deladonchamps) visits the beach to cruise potential liaisons, and though he seems to be on good terms with many of the nudists, he rarely finds someone he cares to hook up with. When he meets Henri (Patrick D’Assumçao), a middle-aged Fassbinder look-alike who sits by the edge of the beach, staring into the lake, never pursuing any trysts, Franck forms an unconventional acquaintance with him. As his friendship with Henri deepens, Franck also meets Michel (Christophe Paou), the epitome of a mysterious, charming 1970s porn star, and he is finally ready to participate in a seductive tango.

The syntax of L’inconnu du lac is very thoughtful: gorgeous establishing wide shots of the beachgoers’ vehicles, parked by an entrance to the woodland trail, orients a feeling of the passage of time, demarcating the beginning of each new day. The film is entirely set in this beach/woodlands location, and the exclusive use of this setting creates a wonderful sense of tension and claustrophobia, even though everything takes place out in the open. Anything that happens away from the retreat (for example, there are allusions to Franck meeting Henri for drinks) stays offscreen, keeping the viewer engaged and intrigued by the mystery.

One of the film’s great virtues is its ambiguity. No cell phones are used in the film, the vehicles are very old, and the co-lead looks like a 1970s porn star, but the wardrobe is contemporary, making it difficult to pinpoint an era in which the film takes place. And this ambiguity extends its relevance to the gay angst that reflects upon many eras. It stresses the reality that anonymity and discretion are essential for many of these beachgoers, and conveys the loneliness and fear in which these men live. Eventually their lifestyle is threatened when a dead body washes ashore, and their caution and reticence become more important than ever…

May 24, 2013

CANNES 2013 REVIEW - MAGIC MAGIC (Directed by Sebastián Silva)

by Marc van de Klashorst

For his fourth film Magic Magic, Chilean director Sebastián Silva uses the desolation of Patagonia to give this psychological chiller an environment that emphasizes the isolation of the protagonist (played by Juno Temple). Unfortunately, since the cause of her descent into madness is never made clear, the audience is left wondering where things went wrong, not only in the story, but also in the making of the film. American tourist Alicia (Temple) goes to visit her cousin Sarah (Emily Browning) in Santiago, Chile. Sarah has planned a trip to the southern region of Patagonia with her boyfriend Agustín (Agustín Silva, a brother of the director), his sister Barbara (Catalina Sandino Moreno), and their American friend Brink (Michael Cera). The trip has hardly started when Sarah is ostentatiously called back to Santiago to take an exam, so Alicia is left hanging as the fifth wheel on the wagon of Sarah's band of friends. None of them really makes the effort to integrate Alicia into their group, though Alicia's increasingly erratic behavior doesn't exactly invite them to do so (in all fairness, Cera's character is such an asshole that he would probably deserve to be drowned in the cold waters of Southern Chile himself). The line between reality and fantasy starts to blur for Alicia, and the belated arrival of her cousin at their cabin doesn't exactly calm her down. After a ludicrous hypnosis session by Agustín ends badly, Alicia's mental state starts to deteriorate even faster, culminating in a finale that is chaotic and abrupt, and doesn't provide any resolution.

What frustrates most about Magic Magic is that the reasons for Alicia's behavior are never truly explained. Is it being deprived of sleep from the start of her trip (after ten days of Cannes I can assure you: lack of sleep does not lead to insanity)? Is it leaving a stray puppy by the side of the road (this strand is given importance early on, but then left hanging)? Is it because 'the white man' (or woman, in this case) is bewitched in this region where indigenous customs still rule and outsiders are met with suspicion? Or is it the isolation of a young girl, who seemingly has never been abroad, and who can't cope with the whole situation she is dumped in? The film is never clear about this, but it really needs an explanation to amp up the tension. Instead, we are left with a constant feeling that something horrible is waiting just around the corner, only to find nothing there but the Patagonian wild and a sheep or two. Each sequence is set up in typical horror genre fashion, only to deflate when the audience realizes that nothing horrifying is going to happen.

May 23, 2013

CANNES 2013 REVIEW - GRIGRIS (Directed by Mahamat-Saleh Haroun)

by Marc van de Klashorst

At one point during the run-up to the festival, Mahamat-Saleh Haroun's Grigris  looked like one of the favorites to win the Palme d'Or. After its unspooling here on Wednesday, though, it appears that the Chadian director will go empty-handed this year (though you never know with these Cannes juries, right, Carlos Reygadas?). In part based on the life of lead Souleymane Démé (in his acting debut), the film lacks the tension and drive to keep the audience interested at all times, and ends on a pretty ridiculous note. Add to that the amateurish acting by newcomer Démé in a role that requires him to carry the film, and all you are left with is the couleur locale  that makes for a nice divertissement from the environments we've seen so far in competition. Hardly an endorsement.

Grigris is a cripple, an immigrant in Chad from Burkina Faso. Living with a surrogate father in deteriorating health, Grigris dances for money in a local club at night to make ends meet. His paralyzed left leg doesn't seem to hinder him when he is on stage. One night he is spotted by Mimi (Anaïs Monory, also debuting), a prostitute mostly working the foreign businessman segment of Chad's capital, N'Djamena. She is immediately taken by him, and seizes the opportunity to contact him through his job as a portfolio photographer. As one outcast recognizing the other (prostitution still is largely taboo in Africa), she feels a connection to this odd, gentle young man.

When his surrogate father has to be hospitalized, Grigris is in dire need of money, and turns to gang leader Moussa for help. Initially employing him as a petrol smuggler across the river bordering Burkina Faso (a nearly fatal trip, as Grigris can't swim), Moussa eventually puts him behind the wheel of the truck that transports smuggled jerrycans into the capital. An ill-informed decision by Grigris then puts him and Mimi in immediate danger, and they have to go on the run.

With Grigris in almost every frame, the film rises and falls on the capabilities of the lead actor. Sadly, Démé lacks charisma and is not up to the task. It's hard to know what both Mimi and director Haroun saw in him, except when he's dancing in clubs in Burkina Faso's capital, Ouagadougou. In those scenes Démé's strength comes out full force, his disproportionally long arms and weird-angled left leg giving him the appearance of an octopus moving about the stage, absolutely entrancing. Off the dance floor, however, his performance is too internal and timid to keep the eye from wandering. In that sense, the other newcomer Monory fares much better. Not that her acting is stellar, but her lanky figure and intriguing facial features liven up the screen whenever the camera is on her. Early in the film she is rejected as a model, and one has to wonder about the requirements in the Chadian modelling business.

While Haroun gives us some insight into the social problems affecting dropouts of Chad's society and what they have to deal with every day, dramatically the film lacks the poise to keep us interested for its 100-minute running time. So when the hilariously bad final scene rolls, it's a relief, and at least lets viewers leave the theater with a smile, however unintentional.