
Before the end of the third day at the 2010 Vancouver International Film Festival, which is more focused on the films than lavish premieres, parties and stars (they also treat press like royalty out here, a rarity at such a large event), this phenomenon, which to be fair is purely coincidental (but still fun), occurred with two films seemingly with nothing in common. The link: dead daddies.
"Leap Year" (Michael Rowe)
No, not the shitty-looking rom-com with Amy Adams, but unfortunately this sad, disturbing tale about a lonely woman living alone and having lots of messed-up sex in Mexico City shares the same title. Having not seen the Amy Adams vehicle, and by no means a gambling man, this writer would nonetheless bet the farm, and still sleep comfortably, that it doesn't contain a golden shower scene (which certainly looked real to these eyes). The two are very different, so let's try to keep them separate.

The entire film takes place in her small, suffocating apartment (save for the opening scene), but somehow director Michael Rowe and DP Juan Manuel Sepulveda, awarded the Camera d'Or at this year's Cannes, make it visually interesting, rarely (if ever) moving the camera and simply letting the events unfold. While not on the level of craftsmanship of Mexico's leading arthouse filmmaker (Carlos Reygadas), "Leap Year" is a tough, but rewarding film, another strong entry in the country's burgeoning cinema. Every time you think the film is going for a pat character/plot explanation — a secret about her relationship with her father is hinted at; a potential deus ex machina at the climax — it mostly avoids it, favoring complexity instead, to the film's benefit. [B]

From Taiwan comes this film about a funeral that lasts seven days (hence the title). An enlightening, but at times too-tinted (or was that just the crummy digital video?) window into an arduous cultural norm, the film throws you into its plot and characters, a sign of respect for its audience that is welcome. A brother and sister return to their father's village to partake in the week long observance of his passing, along with their filmmaker/photographer cousin, who's there to document. They are joined by a hilarious Daoist priest and a professional mourning weeper (she gets the funniest moments), and (literally) wackiness ensues.
The film suffers from tonal schizophrenia, though, and the filmmakers are not as adept at mood swings as, say, some of the heavies of the modern South Korean cinema (Bong Joon-Ho, Park Chan-Wook, Kim Ji-Woon, etc.), which has been built on this sort of thing. It works best when trying to be funny, though not always (eg: a scene involving a tower of beer cans and the entire family is just plain...dumb, and goes on way too long). For anyone who's gone through a loss in their immediate family (this writer being one of them), it's actually refreshing to see this most difficult and sullen of times presented with humor, especially when looking at an ancient religious ritual. But when the film wants to get serious, it feels unearned, and falls flat. It's hard to be moved to tears when you're recovering from laughing out loud. [C+]
0 comments:
Post a Comment