TIFF 2K11: DAY 3
The Island President, dir. Jon Shenk. It’s hard to objectively talk about documentaries; the subject matter can be engaging and important, but the presentation can still be misshapen or awkward. This docu (from the maker of Lost Boys of Sudan) has a prolonged ending, but the subject and protagonist are so engaging and astonishing — you’ll never stop caring. You might even feel energized by the final credits.
President Mohamed Nasheed of the Maldives has been through some shit. For twenty years, Nasheed fought Maumoon Gayoom’s 30-year autocratic reign (with a thoroughly unsurprising 99% approval rating), to responses of jail, torture, exile. The most stunning example of this man’s ability to rise again comes from a description: for 18 months (or around such length), Nasheed was locked in a 3’ x 6’ corrugated steel jail. After the overthrowing of Gayoom’s rule (via democratic election, in which Nasheed won peoples’ hearts by visiting almost every household in the country), a new foe arose: the rising sea, the imminent destruction of the Maldives, the threat of a nation of environmental refugees.
The Maldives showcases famed resorts (think screensaver-calibre beaches) and 1200 islands — all of which would be submerged with a rise of three metres in sea level, many of which have already been abandoned due to erosion and/or destruction post-tsunami.
Nasheed is smart. He’s kind. He’s the leader George Clooney wished he had conjured in The Ides of March. Nasheed takes to the UN, to India, to the UK legislature, and finally, to Copenhagen in 2009, where he is instrumental in brokering a deal.
It’s pretty indicative of the film that I can’t stop reciting the story. Let me speak of the experience: you’re stunned by beautiful vistas, you’re chilled by the Radiohead soundtrack, you’re discouraged in any government that doesn’t have President Nasheed at its helm. (He walked by me in the industry lounge! Starstruck! Photo above [to come]!) Truly, a film to consider.
Pearl Jam Twenty, dir. Cameron Crowe. I dunno, don’t do this unless you’re invested in the scene. I left this one early.
Keyhole, dir. Guy Maddin. By far Maddin’s worst.
I love and follow Maddin; from my first experience with The Saddest Music in the World, I watched everything from Tales from the Gimli Hospital to Brand Upon the Brain! (It’s funny, now that The Artist is gaining critical/popular acclaim for being a contemporary silent film — Maddin’s been playing at that game for a while.)
This film carries all of Maddin’s trademarks: crossing boundaries (and an obsession) with the mother, an examination of the home, a leering sexuality. It portrays them all in a Maddin Gone Wild way — nothing tempered or confused, like in his best films. Nothing particularly new about the presentation (still obsessed with the silent film, but less fidelity to the ideal he originally cherished).
I wouldn’t watch this again, unfortunately. I feel like Maddin’s success may have driven him to, you know, the excess and failure he so desires. Don’t see this. Sorry.
Twenty Cigarettes, dir. James Benning. I don’t know how to feel about this, probably because I’m new to experimental cinema. It’s 99 minutes of twenty people, one at a time, smoking an entire cigarette.
Interesting in that you wonder what they’re doing or thinking about. Who they are. You look at their faces and think about their expressions and features. You can observe them in a very Gaze-like way. You scrutinize them.
I guess it’s safe to say: it’s not about them, it’s about you. Watch this, only in a theatre. I doubt one’s ability to stay through it anywhere else.
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A talk with Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky, creators of Paradise Lost (1, 2, and now 3), the stories of the West Memphis 3. (Point of note: Joe Berlinger made Crude, one of my favourite docus of recent years.) They were great. One of the best lines was uttered by Bruce, who said he’d had three children and one good marriage, and he’s never been so happy to see the West Memphis Three released.
A talk with documentary subject Paul Williams and director Stephen Kessler, from the premiering film Paul Williams: Still Alive. This was pretty okay.
