the film festival in review

So, the EIFF has closed it's doors for another year. And for the first time, I really made the effort to see things and take risks. In the past week I saw 8 things. Some good, some bad and predictably - some so pretentiously aweful they bordered on unwatchable

In case you care, or ever wonder at the random DVDs on discount in the back of your local Blockbuster, here is the complete list


Summer Hours was a mainstream french film trying to find and anglicised audience. The pull of Juliet Binoche and the promise of quiet turmoil were worth the risk (it's about a woman who dies and her villa full of important antiques causes trouble for her children in choosing to keep, sell or give to a museum the objects that hold such history and memory), but it was ultimately hollow and unsatisfying. Although there were some touching and loaded exchanges, the lack of emotional depth to the characters meant I had to wonder if the very frenchy slow tracking shots weren't conveying some unspoken emotion but were actually covering up a lack of plot.

The Wackness a perfectly decent american "indy" with a great Ben Kingsley and a raft of decent performances that tried so hard to be cool it was almost painful. It was very funny and the main kid was quite compelling but so much desperation at being the next great thing made me realise how big a shadow Juno has cast on the small quirky comedy with twisting dialogue. It's going to be hard to surpass.

Good Dick While I was watching it, it had everything - great chemistry, a silly plot, a charming hero, some decent dialogue, and a ludicruous and oddly intriguing premise (boy works in video store. girl addicted to porn. he's interested. odd and crazy wooing period commences leading to moralistic ending and slightly obvious dramatic twist). When it was over it seemed pretty good - decent performances, empassioned artists, an interesting choice. When I got home it made me feel alittle ill and betrayed - sort of like when saturday morning cartoons have huge moral messages tacked on that not only diminish the enjoyment of the product, but also make you feel guilty and a little queasy for having enjoyed something so manipulative and yet unrealistic. But I'm over it now and i guess it's still pretty good - I just wish it had been less heavy handed and more plot driven.


Roger Deakins & Seamus McGarvey - a conversation with a man I didn't realise I had a professional crush on. Roger Deakins is the cinematographer for Assistnation of Jesse James, Jarhead, Shawshank, Kundun, and pretty much every Cohen brothers film since Barton Fink. He is ludicrously talented and hearing him talk about his work was utterly fascinating. Seamus McGarvey was interviewer instead of fellow cinematographer, which is a shame, because his choices in Atonement bore further reflection.


The Kreutzer Sonata Great story (from Tolstoy), great music (from Beethoven), ultimate heart rending tone of betrayal, jealousy and insidious doubt. So why fuck it up by doing high school handheld adlib-ed bullshit with shoddy camera work and terrible performances set in modern day LA? It was truly truly aweful. Liam put it best when he said "it's was just so mentally middle aged". What could have been an operatic epic on relationships (a man believes his younger, hotter musician wife is cheating on him - we never find out) is one man's internal monolgue for two hours and gratuitous flashbacks to their masculine, domineering, passionless and ultimately depressing sex sessions. All I know is if i was her I would have done a hell of a lot more than fuck the violinist.


Warsaw Dark an ambitious, experimental but slightly jumbled thriller set in Poland from Chris Doyle - previously cinematographer to much of the east asian cinematic renaissance including In the Mood for Love etc. While he is on of those eccentric filmmakers who says things that aren't entirely coherent and manage to be incredibly poncey - his attempt to make a jazz sculpture of film where the plot is not longer the point, but an aspect of a riffing session of artistry was really quite interesting - just not easily accessible.

Mermaid was hands down the winner. To say it was a darker, funnier Russian Amelie (as the blurb did) isn't giving it enough credit. The surrealist tone and isolated young heroine fit, but it's truly charming and weird and a bit disturbing even. But the actress was captivating and the plot keeps you guessing. Unlike NightWatch however, I wish I spoke Russin for this one to get the nuances and mis-en-scene of Moscow's billboards and adverts constantly commenting on the narrative.

Faintheart is just like every other indy british film you have ever seen. Just as fun, just as repetitive. Downtrodden hero loses everything, bands together with mates in ludicrous yet charming and funny situation to win back girl, save family and rekindle the human spirit. This has happened with unemployed strippers, up hill/mountains and in Notting Hill. This time: viking battle renactments. While sweet, funny and heartwarming you wonder if the UKFC can't greenlight something with a little more stamina and a less predictable cast off EastEnders and channel 4 sitcoms.

But, in it's favour, the film was a social experiement created through chat groups and forums on MySpace - in interesting concept which just proves putting too many men behind the camera means all you'll get is a long string of cliches which lose potency.


Thus endeth my week. Moral of the story: see fewer british and american pseudo-indy's, amp up the weird foreign and always see the live talks with the masters. I like big, blockbusters and tiny experimentals, but that in betweeny thing the government funds is just unsatifying.