TIFF 2K11: DAY 5

The Cardboard Village, dir. Ermanno Olmi. A real beaut of a picture; the auteur Olmi returns to cinema with a meditative and stirring piece concerning sacred spaces, questions of faith vs goodness, and illegal immigrants.

The film opens with a beautifully rendered depiction of the deconsecration of a church in smalltown Italy. We meet the pastor, a kindly old man (a familiar priest for those who watched Of Gods and Men) who has nothing without the institution.

A simply told tale, in which people behave deliberately and we are presented with all facets of human character. Moral disagreements are articulated clearly. There’s no exploitation in the refugees’ representation: they’re dressed plainly, they speak well, and they don’t brutalize each other. They’re humans, as well they should be, because this film finds interest in more than their situation.

I think I might be really into this “mode” of Italian cinema, echoed in other recent films like Le Quattro Volte. Deliberate and well-paced films that keep you immersed and questioning. I think I might like this movie a lot. Simple, quietly packaged, beautifully delivered.

Hysteria, dir. Tanya Wexler. I ended up here because Alps was full, and am glad I did. A solid, engaging Hollywood film. (The standard formula works!)

This fest, I’ve been increasingly discouraged at Hollywood films (namely The Ides of March and The Oranges, both of which frustrate and make me kinda angry), and also at myself for attending them. This movie was perfect, because it did all the classic Hollywood tropes right.

Ostensibly a film about the diagnosis of “hysteria” amongst women (as a catch-all for everything from insomnia to manic depression) and the inventor of the vibrator as a “cure” for such, the film really is, I dare to say, a good old-fashioned screwball comedy. A delightful one.

Hugh Dancy enters as a chronically out-of-work, highly-educated doctor with a wealthy benefactor/friend played by Rupert Everett (whose character is brilliant comedic relief). Dancy gets a job relieving women of hysteria by laying them on their back and applying sweet-smelling oils… on their nether regions, with his fingers.

I won’t get more specific, as it’s not about the basic plot (which has been told many times), but the delightful and engaging way it’s told. The cast is magnificent; Maggie Gyllenhaal is outstanding a strong Suffragette, a Shrew to be Tamed.

Good fun at the movies.

Monsieur Lazhar, dir. Philippe Falardeau. Maybe my favourite of the fest so far.

Falardeau, a Canadian filmmaker I know from It’s Not Me, I Swear!, returns with another film with smart children, acting well. It’s no secret that kids can be the hardest to direct, but Falardeau pulls it off so unfailingly that I can honestly say I think of Truffaut’s work in Small Change and The 400 Blows.

Lazhar is the name of an Algerian refugee in Montreal, seeking asylum after his wife and children were killed in an act of terrorism. He arrives at a school soon after a beloved teached has hanged herself in her classroom. He offers his services.

The classroom ripples. Two young friends, a boy and a girl, are particularly touched by the incident; their personal resolutions of grief and confusion are fascinating, mature.

It’s an entrancing tale: the characters are true, the ending is solid, and there is never a stretch to try for something more epic or shocking.

Highly recommended. Plus: Canadian content!

Crazy Horse, dir. Frederick Wiseman. I left this doc early. Not that I’m particularly averse to Wiseman’s fly-on-the-wall documentary style (at least not in viewership), but I felt like I was wasting time in the obviously constructed conversations in which subjects desperately strive for some kind of conflict, and the inane, nonstop dance sequences (mesmerizing, but not enough to make a movie).

This doc feels like it’s too astonished to discover the “best” nude dancing venue in the world also has a business side. It keeps propping up these discussions of budget and technical obstacles as if it’s a wonder the whole thing didn’t just spring into existence fully-formed.

This being said, I only stayed for an hour, so maybe it gets more involved later. Also, the dance sequences are truly a sight to see. I just wish we’d seen a bit more.

Machine Gun Preacher, dir. Marc Forster. Just popped my head in for 30 minutes of this. Man. Testosterone sure is a terrible thing sometimes.

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A talk with Guy Maddin and actor Udo Kier about Keyhole. Surprisingly normal Maddin and Kier talk about shooting digital and how to find the light on set.

A talk with Julia Loktev and actors Gael Garcia Bernal and Hani Furstenberg about The Loneliest Planet. Serious hiking to get to and from sets deep in the mountains. Furstenberg is big in Israel. Another instance of half-improvised acting, giving more creative control to actors.