Festival Review #11: More Thoughts on the Turin Horse

Further Thoughts on The Turin Horse by Ben Webster

Josh’s review of The Turin Horse accurately describes its bleak worldview and austere, pensive tone. Beautiful and ugly, indeed- Tarr here captures the primal, earthy energy which pulses in even the most remote outposts of existence, beautifully captured in the opening shot of a horse straining against the weight of a peasant's cart as the camera floats around it, noting the beast’s heaving muscles and single-minded instinct of forward motion. That this energy of life is slowly drained from the film, eventually denying us even the light needed to see the characters, expresses Tarr’s maddening world-view. All becomes debased and corrupt; even the base peasants who subsist on boiled potatoes will be forced to eat them raw. Death will roam the land, bellowing mercilessly against the few trees and homes still standing. Existence will leave no mark but the crude tools of existence- wooden bowls, spades, extinguished lamps- and the silence of those whose lives were already barren. Light and heat will abandon the earth, plunging all into darkness. This absolute pessimism is so extreme it is sure to alienate most viewers. Yet its uncompromising pursuit is what draws one to Tarr, a unity of philosophy and expression, of such purity that its beauty transcends the misery on screen. On screen- The Turin Horse could only be a film, existing at the nexus of duration and light.

Josh is also right to point out the extreme deprivation of character and event. Yet what is remarkable is that from out of the repetitive staging of the quotidian existence of near-mute peasants on the edge of a nondescript dying world, so many provocative allusions emerge. The material culture represented in The Turin Horse suggests late 19th century eastern Europe, contemporary with the incident from Nietzsche’s life recounted in the film’s opening moments. Yet conspicuous in its absence are symbols of Christianity- no crosses or icons, just a religious commentary the daughter mouths without comprehension. Their pagan existence contrasts with the day by day dwindling of life indicated by title cards. The Turin Horse proceeds as a reverse Genesis, on each day another miracle of life disappears, returning the planet to a state of unanimated mass. God withdraws from his creation, not to cede it to evil, but abandoning it to desolation and stillness- cause or effect? Also highly suggestive is the film’s proximity to the zeitgeist of our contemporary global system in the throes of economic and social crises. As a violent wind howls unceasingly outside, atomized but debased family units huddle in bewilderment in their increasingly unstable homes, fearful of the destruction of all the familiar ways of life yet uncertain of how to change their fate. Outsiders- here gypsies that drink from a well that shortly thereafter goes dry- are inscrutable, evil omens of destruction. How close to the xenophobic hostility to immigrants in our own recession-wracked country Tarr touches in his bleak, obscure fable.

-BEN WEBSTER

Festival Review #10: The Turin Horse

The Tuirn Horse

(Bela Tarr and Agnes Hrantizky)

The Tuirn Horse has been making the rounds the last year or so with the proclamation that it will be Bela Tarr's last film, and I will take Tarr at his word here because he has been steadfast in this statement since he completed this film, though, as a fan, I hope he decides to make more films in future. With that out of the way, The Turin Horse premiered in Philadelphia on an appropriately chilly and rainy night with a decent sized crowd and only a few walkouts (you, unfortunately, always have to expect walkouts during a Bela Tarr film). The film is bleak, dark, spare, and quiet -- bleak even for a Bela Tarr film -- and, as opposed to larger productions like Sanatango and Werckmeister Harmonies it is a rather minimal film indeed. Tarr forgoes his usual large cast of characters and constantly shifting narratives for an intimate film which is mostly comprised of two characters, a father and a daughter, and one location, in and around their tiny brick home. The characteristic black white photography and ultra long and intricate takes are still there, but the scope is much smaller. Tarr seems to have distilled his style down to its essence with this film. There is little dialogue and almost no change in location. Save for maybe a total of 15 minutes of screen time, we are only shown the father and daughter. It feels as if Tarr had wanted to reduce his cinema down to its most bare essentials with The Turin Horse, while still focusing on his essential themes of poverty, human nature, and the fragility and transience of existence. And I think that The Turin Horse does this and it does it well, even though the film may prove to be difficult and repetitive, even for Tarr fans. At times the long takes can feel stifling within the small confines in which the film takes place, but I believe this is intentional and works toward the overall tone and ideas of the film. The film, as the the programmer who introduced it said, is both beautiful and ugly at the same time. The film is not easy, but I do not think it is supposed to be easy. Though I believe the film does and should stand on its own, I think it will work best and be the most enjoyable for those who have experienced the rest of Tarr's work. The Turin Horse is not an epic, but I think it is the work of an artist who wanted to distill their work down to its simplest possible form (and for Tarr I think this is as simple as his films will be in terms of cast, locations, and action) and see what happens. I recommend the most adventurous of film goers out there to spend the first part of their Saturday afternoon with this film. And considering tomorrow is supposed to be even rainier and colder than last night was, I think it will be the apt environment to experience this film. Go check this film out Saturday at 12:00pm at the Ritz Five and enjoy what will hopefully not be the last film by Bela Tarr.

-JOSH MARTIN

Festival Review #9: Further Thoughts on Miss Bala and Attenberg

Miss Bala

(Gerardo Naranjo)

Gerardo Naranjo's first two films, Drama/Mex and I'm Gonna Explode, had shown him to be one of those most exciting and interesting filmmakers working today, and Miss Bala further confirms this notion. Everyone keeps describing Miss Bala as an action film and while there are elements of a traditional action film (gangsters, drugs, kidnapping, shootouts), nothing in this film is handled as if it were an action film. The film is almost formalistic in its refusal to actually show any of the action. As Karl said, it is an action film that is not interested in the action. The camera stays steadfastly fixed on the main character, Laura, as all of these events happen around here. We hear things happening off camera, but we hardly ever see anything. Naranjo instead offers us complex and oblique long, fluid takes that remain fixed on Laura, her reactions and her trying to get away from these situations or just stay alive. And Naranjo never strays from this device; he doesn't do this in some of the scenes and then lets us see a few actions sequences; we only see fractured bits at certain moments when Laura is running past something. It is because of this refusal to really explore the "action" elements of this so-called action film that makes Miss Bala so interesting and leads me to think of it in formalist terms.

There are far more complex reasons, I think, for Naranjo's consistent focus only on Laura and his refusal to show us the action, and I believe this is really why the film is so successful. Naranjo has made a portrait of Mexican society in the guise of an action film. He is showing us what is happening and how life is in Mexico right now with drug cartels and an overwhelming corruption at all levels. Naranjo focuses on Laura because he is showing how easy it is for someone to get mixed up in all this. Laura isn't from Tijuana by accident; she is from a city in Mexico that is known as the center of the drug cartel wars that have been occurring for some time now. But not only his he showing us how omnipresent the drug cartels are, but also how corrupt these cartels have made almost every aspect of Mexican society. From pageant judges, to small time cops, to government officials, everyone seems to be working for the cartel. Every time Laura tries to do the right thing by telling someone what is happening to her, it backfires because it turns out they work with the cartel. Every single time. Miss Bala is a potent critique of Mexican society, its violence and corruption in the guise of an action film.

If you go into Miss Bala expecting to see an action film (as the badly made trailers may lead you to believe) then you will be disappointed, however, if you go in expecting to see something interesting and different from an incredibly gifted filmmaker then you will be more than rewarded. I hope Miss Bala comes out in Philadelphia because I think people should see it. Though the film is not as good as Naranjo's two previous films, it still shows a filmmaker in command of his art, who knows how to subvert genre, and who has a lot to say.

Naranjo's film is really indicative of what Mexican and other Central and South American films are doing so well right now. These filmmakers are trying to subvert Hollywood genres in every possible way by making bold and stylistic films. Not only are they interested in finding new ways to make films, but they are also making striking films about the countries and societies they are living in. Sometimes these critiques are subtle and sometimes they are obvious, but they are constantly showing us the problems with their countries and societies: the corruption, violence, poverty, and social inequalities that still run rampant. Americans like to pretend none of the above exist in our society and so we don't make films about these things, but we could take a cue from Central and South America.


Attenberg

(Athina Rachel Tsangari)

Speaking of countries that are making the most consistently bold and innovative new films, Greece has landed in the forefront of art house cinema in the last few years first with Dogtooth (Girogos Lanthimos) and now with Athina Rachel Tsangari's brilliant Attenberg. As Karl mentioned in his review, Attenberg is the film of the festival so far. An incredibly original, funny, innovative, and smart film, which takes chances in almost every scene and tries to find new ways to express its ideas. The story, as it were, is simple and as familiar to cinema goers as they come: a woman and her relationship with her best friend, her dying father, and her first love. As far as narrative, that's what the film is about, but the film is so clever and the scenes are so stylish and interesting that it doesn't even matter. Tsangari is using this incredibly simple premise to explore varying cinematic techniques. I could try and write what makes this film so amazing, but it would be difficult to put into words these delightful, absurd, and unexpected moments that happen throughout. And, like Central and South American films, Attenberg also seems to be a protest; a film dealing with Greek society (as Dogtooth also did) and what the younger generation in Greece see as outdated rules and social constructs. I really, really, really hope this film make it to Philadelphia because it is one of the best films of the year and so odd and so original and so funny and so compelling. Attenberg gives us at Shooting Wall hope that a film like this, so steadfastly non-mainstream, can be successful and find an audience.

-JOSH MARTIN

Festival Reviews #8: Various

Michael

(Markus Schleinzer)

Markus Schleinzer’s Michael is a well-made, if not entirely original, “thriller” of sorts. The film screened on Friday night at the Philadelphia Film Festival as part of their Graveyard Shift series, which tends to favor genre films, but which also sometimes surprises by slipping in a more esoteric and interesting film that festivals in Philadelphia don’t usually cater to. In the case of Michael, the film could have fit in just as easily anywhere else in the festival if it wasn’t for its subject matter: five months in the life of a pedophile who holds a young boy hostage in his basement. While this may sound sensational, it is handled by Schleinzer with a detached and minimalist tone, which helps imbue the film with an overwhelming sense of tension and unease. This is Schleinzer’s first film; he has worked with many well-known German and Austrian filmmaker as casting director, and the similarities to Haneke are undeniable, particularly Haneke’s late ‘80s/early ‘90s work such as The Seventh Continent and Benny’s Video. Michael, despite its subject matter, is actually more subdued than a Haneke film, which works in the films favor. And what this film lacks in originality as far as story and themes it more than makes up for in cinematography, sound design, and mise en scene. The stark lighting, perfectly composed frames, and naturalist soundtrack work perfectly with the material. Michael is an intriguing and very well made film from a filmmaker who seems to understand how to put together a film.




Collaborator

(Martin Donovan)

Former Hal Hartley leading man Martin Donovan steps behind the camera for his first film as writer, director, and star with Collaborator: an interesting if ultimately uneven and, unfortunately not terribly well-written genre hybrid. Donovan’s film is certainly a noble failure, as the film tries to and often does defy its genre conventions, but at the same time it relies a little too heavily on clichéd dialogue and some clumsily handled sequences. The film is a welcome relief from the typical stale American Independent films and Donovan is trying to make something unusual and its tonal and genre shifts are sometimes interesting and even worthwhile, but it suffers the same fate many actor directed films suffer, which is that it becomes too much of an actor’s film, especially during the climactic scene, and doesn’t quite fully explore the conventions it wishes to defy. If more scenes had been well-written and if Donovan had allowed himself to expand on some of his cinematic ideas instead of paying so much attention to the performances, I think this film could have been much more successful than it was. As I said, I think it’s an interesting failure from one of the most intelligent and thoughtful actors around. I would certainly love to see Donovan make another film.

Actor, director, writer Martin Donovan and actor David Morse were on hand for an introduction and Q&A after the film. This was certainly a nice addition and probably helped fill the crowd out (the theater was more packed than I had initially expected). The questions from the audience were typically insightful and uninteresting, but Donovan did his best to answer them with charm and humor, which helped. Even though there was a nice sized crowd, I can’t say they were a particularly great crowd to watch a film at a film festival with. The people behind us sounded like they were on a date and wouldn’t shut up or stop kicking the seats. Several people were gasping at simple plot shifts, which was rather obnoxious. I always figure the best audiences will be at film festivals and then I go and find that in most cases that’s really not true. I am beginning to think that people have forgotten how to watch movies in the theater. Everyone seems to think they are at home on their couch instead of in a dark room with strangers who want you to be QUIET.




Bonsai

(Cristian Jimenez)

Bonsai is yet another film which proves that the most interesting cinema is no longer coming from America and Europe, but from places like Central and South America which were never considered cinematic powerhouses. This is a visually beautiful, narratively adventurous, and subtly executed film about art, love, relationships, and identity. Perhaps I have a soft spot for films about people trying to make art about their own experiences and getting lost in the work, but this film handles its subject and its shifting timeline with a refinement that seems to be lacking in European and American independent film. Jimenez’s shots are wonderfully composed and the elliptic and fractured narrative allows the audience to engage with the film more closely, letting us piece together plot points and ideas as we wish. Bonsai is the kind of cinema I liked to see; a film that doesn’t feel the need to over explain every idea and character, but allows room to breathe and grow with the viewer. Jimenez has proven to be a filmmaker to watch with a keen eye for mise en scene, composition, and elliptic storytelling. I am constantly blown away by South American cinema these days, and I look forward to these films far more than the typical French, American, or Italian fare which often looks and feel like a rehashing of the same bland nonsense. Latin American films are moving beyond the limits placed on them over the last 50 or so years (especially in Chile with Pinochet) and really trying to do something interesting and use storytelling in a new way.

I have to say I was disappointed by the turnout for this film, though. It was on a Sunday at noon, which from my experience hardly ever draws a large crowd. There was not even an introduction from anyone at the festival of any kind. I sometimes feel films like Bonsai get buried in this off time positions and get little or no push from the festival or from local newspapers and magazines. It is sad because I think a film like this is what going to a film festival is all about: a challenging and interesting film from a new director that you probably won’t be able to see in Philadelphia any time soon. I wish there had been more promotion and more people. I hope that people seek this film out, but more likely it will be buried under the rubble of the more well-known films of the festival.





The Day He Arrives

(Sang-soo Hong)

Another oddity from South Korean cinema, The Day He Arrives is a structurally ambitious and unusual film that ultimately does not come together. I found a lot in this film to admire: the long takes, black and white photography, elliptic narrative, and unexplained tonal shifts, but there was a lot about the film that was unappealing. It was a difficult film to find your feet in; it feels like it never really came together all that well. It perhaps relied too heavily on the ambiguous narrative. The film was oddly uncompelling despite its stylistic eccentricities, as much of the dialogue felt flat and underdeveloped. The films is also very male centric, which seems pretty typical of Asian cinema in general, and therefore the women seemed like stereotypes and were completely undeveloped and seemed stiff and one dimensional.

While a film like Bonsai is able to balance its style with its content to create a compelling and engaging film, The Day He Arrives feels a bit like artifice like the filmmaker had some interesting stylistic ideas and quickly threw some scenes together to fit into the odd structure, narrative, and tone. The narrative effect was decidedly Eastern in style and there was a feeling of the story often doubling back on itself, a constant reincarnation of the same story and events. I was interested and slightly intrigued, but ultimately felt very little about this film. I recommend it this film as something unusual and different from what you may typical see, but overall I find it to be a failed experiment.

Like Bonsai, The Day He Arrives was on a Sunday afternoon and the turnout at was mediocre for a film you surely won’t be seeing at the Ritz anytime soon. Again, there was no introduction and the audience was subjected to an endless loop of the festival trailer and corporate sponsor for twenty minutes before the film began; I am surprised no one shot themselves in the face having to watch the same cheesy trailer over and over again. I don’t understand the way festivals seem to give complete precedence to some of their films over others.


-JOSH and CARRIE

Philadelphia Film Festival #7: Michael

In the theater at the Ritz East there was no effort made by anyone to tip-toe around the fact that everyone filling a seat was there to see the pedophile movie. It was nearly impossible for anyone to sit there completely unaware of the content of the film. Everyone there had made the choice, for some reason or another, to watch a film about a pedophile locking a young boy in his basement. It's safe to say that everyone there had some sort of expectations for the film. I went in expecting to be made uncomfortable-- but the downfall of Michael is in the build-up. The eponymous Michael is no Humbert Humbert, and any discomfort brought about by the film is due to the sterile stereotyping and not to any Lolita-esque relatability. The film has a few notably poignant scenes-- but ultimately it is neither shocking nor endearing, and falls short of the build-up that it is both.


-Jill Hackney


MICHAEL is another film in the Dogtooth style that utilizes sparse dialogue and steril shots with a dry, mostly neutral palette.  It seems to be trying to give you the impression that it is an objective view of this everyday pedophile and, in a way, it does.  There's practically no music and little tension, so it's not like watching Law & Order in which the suspect is either handsome and glib or dweeby and creepy but still menacing.  In Michael, the film still portrays the title character as dweeby but he's also practically innocuous.  He's literally impotent at times.   At one point Michael is watching a slasher film and when the the killer puts forth the dreadful proposition to his victim, "This is my cock and this is my knife, which do you want in you?", Michael giggles.  In the next scene while seated at the dinner table with the boy he's keeping hostage, Michael stands up and pulls out his small, unerect penis and then picks up a butter knife and repeats the line back to the boy.  Thus is Michael's life.
The film is mostly enjoyable although a bit dry.  There are a few moments of tension, mainly at the end following a twist I won't ruin but if you look hard enough you can see it coming from the beginning.  Michael does not empathize with others and does not understand anyone around him.  During the aforementioned dinner scene, he does not seem to realize that his position with the child is exactly the same as that of the killer in the film.  When he gets a promotion he throws a party at the office, but he spends the entirety of it serving people drinks and food and then awkwardly backing away without further comment.  In conversations with other people he gets up and leaves, or the scene simply ends when someone begins talking about their own life.  The film wants to engage you on some level, but it mostly wants you to spend the majority of the time thinking about what is going on in Michael's head and it's trying to explicitly tell you with every cut, every odd action of his, and every word he actually chooses to say.  He has almost complete control over the kid, and he does over you until near the end of the film when he loses it and we finally see outside of him.


I do believe that this film can be relatable if you put yourself in the right frame of mind.  Jill told me that before I came in that the person introducing said that the film is extremely uncomfortable to watch.  The only reason I can find for that is that you may find yourself in similar situations with parents, at work, and in other social situations.  And the way he hides this boy in a locked up room in the basement and how mechanical the routine for sex with him is, it almost seems like masturbation.  I suppose that is one way the film's technique could be seen as objective.  It does not make the pedophile a monster, just an awkward pervert like the rest of us.


-Rob Mugge