TIFF 2K11: DAY 1

Melancholia, dir. Lars von Trier. Just checked out the first hour of this one, as it’ll be in theatres soon enough. The part I did see was great: well-acted, believable characters, subtly frightening. I’ve been a von Trier convert since Dogville, so I am perhaps not the best suited to go to for an objective opinion, BUT: this is probably his most accessible film, based on the hour I saw. Some old Hollywood style snappy dialogue, beautiful bourgeois parties, and a good ol’-fashioned planet crashing into the earth. Can’t wait to see the whole thing.

The Turin Horse, dir. Béla Tarr. Oh man. The highlight of the day. Sure, ostensibly it’s a black-and-white Eastern European 2h45m dark ages epic. But if you sit down for this movie, you won’t get up again. The pacing is incredible in its hook.

The film opens with a myth: Nietzsche’s madness is conceived by a mistreated horse in Turin. And then we see a horse. A majestic, domineering creature fighting against winds we grow to know as the end of the world. I don’t believe this to be the horse that drove Nietzsche to utter, “Mutter, ich bin dumm”; the myth exists more as a guiding concept. It’s a beautiful scene, bringing brutal, straightforward physicality (and holy christ, incredible cinematography) to a story of imaginary figures.

The film starts on Day One, although of what, we are not told. Presented with two characters, an aging father and his adult daughter, the film is immersed in a near-silent domestic world of harsh winds outdoors and daily basic rituals: heat up two potatoes and eat them with your hands, take the horse and cart out (if the horse so allows), gather water from the well. The most outstanding ritual is the meticulous dressing and undressing (to long underwear only) of the father by the daughter. Over the course of five days, we’re given new realities and practices. We see the same activities performed from different perspectives. It’s fascinating.

The similarity to Frantesik Vlacil’s famed Czech film Marketa Lazarova struck me: not just in aesthetics (although most certainly that — long hair! layers upon layers of clothing! horses!), but in its non-facetious, non-ironic stance. It presents itself as cinema, born fully-formed. This isn’t to say it exists in a vacuum, the very relation to Marketa Lazarova (and even Ozu films in its low-angle shots of eating), points to its contemporary status as influenced.

Wetlands, dir. Guy Édoin. The only Canadian film on my docket and I only saw a bit of it. Opens in just a… I can only say ludicrously Quebecois way. A naked woman walking through the wetlands. Cut! A teenage boy jerking off in a tree. Cut! Cum dripping down a tree leaf in an artsy way. Then I saw a cow giving birth to a stillborn, via a woman’s actual arms reaching in and pulling it out. I was very :O about it, but still super cool to see. I would have liked to see it all, but…

This is Not a Film, dir(???) Jafar Panahi and Mojtaba Mirtahasebi. Watch this Not A Film!! Just when you thought cinema wasn’t dangerous. Jafar Panahi, famed director of movies you’ve heard of like Offside and Crimson Gold and The White Balloon, has been sentenced to a 20-year ban on filmmaking and six years in prison. He smuggled out This is Not a Film on a USB stick inside a cake, from Tehran to Paris. This is just backstory.

One day, Panahi and his documentary-filmmaking friend Mirtahasebi spend a day filming at the former’s pad. They drink tea, talk about Panahi’s appeal, interact with the enormous, crazy-for-climbing pet iguana Igi, and film partial retellings of Panahi’s latest feature idea. (Panahi soon becomes disillusioned with the retellings, bemoaning how much is lost in words and how much is gained in film: “Why would you make a film if you could just talk through it?”)

If nothing else, the documentary is a delightful look into the days of a bright and interesting man. Constantly surprising, at times downright hilarious, and still the background remains: all Panahi did was try to make a film, and as a result he is faced with incarceration. This is not a film — that’s important — but it’s something to consider.

The Ides of March, dir. George Clooney. Oh, just don’t.

The easiest way to talk about this film is to call it a stupid Primary Colours: YOUNG, IDEALISTIC LIBERAL GUY BECOMES DISILLUSIONED WITH POLITICS AFTER HIS IDOL IS REVEALED TO BE A PHILANDERER. All caps because SERIOUSLY. This can be done well. It has been done well. I think movies like Primary Colours and Election are tops. This was not done well.

The film features brilliant political minds and a charismatic, well-loved leader. Well, according to them. The audience is certainly never given evidence of this. In fact, if anything, we’re presented with children. The “funny” bits are contrived and juvenile (an example: Ryan Gosling’s character tells the Democratic nominee [his boss] to make his platform have MANDATORY TWO-YEAR SERVICE for all high school graduates, joking that, “everyone over 18 will vote for it, and people under 18 can’t vote!” This is the entire movie. Ugh.)

What kills me most is that Clooney has proven himself to be someone who can play a charismatic figure, but he has just neglected to do so in this. Everyone’s lauding his charisma and smarts and general popularity (as a to-be despotic President who self-identifies as non-religious and can’t even properly answer a question on defense and oh my God is so obsessed with oil from the Middle East like that’s the biggest problem facing anyone). The screenplay also neglects to ever mention the GLARINGLY OBVIOUS fact that Clooney is a fox and his opponent is, you know, Not George Clooney.

Anyways, not worth a go to the theatre. Not even Gosling in a suit can save it. Awful.

But I did get to exit the cinema with Roger Ebert and his amazing, beautiful wife. So I’m still glad I stayed for the whole thing.