| Festival Update | ||||||||||||||||||
| Kaurismäki's Solidarity with Kiarostami, Flickering Lights from the Avant-Garde, To Be and To Have | ||||||||||||||||||
The New York Film Festival likes to load its high-profile slots with celebrity-heavy films that will generate publicity:"About Schmidt," starring Jack Nicholson, opened this year's selection, PT Anderson's "Punch-Drunk Love," starring Adam Sandler (!) is the centerpiece, and the new oeuvre by Spain's master Pedro Almodovar will be closing it on October 13. Yet, the festival's true highlights bloom in the less-publicized shade between these attention-getters. Aki Kaurismäki's
"The Man Without a Past" is such a film. The Finnish
director ("Leningrad Cowboys Go America," "La Vie De Boheme"),
closest perhaps to Jim Jarmush in style and laconic grace, delivers a
marvelously droll film that's as quiet as it is touching, funny, and sweet.
The nameless protagonist, played by Markku Peltola, arrives in Helsinki
just to be beaten to near-death by muggers. When he regains consciousness,
he finds that he has lost his memory. Unlike fellow amnesiac Bourne in
this summer's Matt Damon vehicle, Kaurismäki's man doesn't possess
any exotic martial arts skills or Swiss bank accounts. Aided by the downtrodden
of Helsinki, he moves into an empty container with "sea view,"
plants potatoes, listens to R&B on a found jukebox, and falls in love
with a Salvation Army soup kitchen volunteer (Kaurismäki regular
Kati Outinen). With its sly humor, sparse dialogue, and down-and-out cast,
"The Man Without a Past" is the warmest and funniest film to
play at the festival yet. |
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Kaurismäki's Solidarity with Kiarostami I have been an avid Kaurismäki fan since 1988's "Ariel" and was looking forward to the director's after-film appearance. But there was disappointment in store: Kaurismäki had decided to cancel his trip to the New York at the last minute to protest the treatment of director Abbas Kiarostami. The celebrated Iranian director, whose new film "Ten" is playing at the festival, was refused a visa to the United States because of his nationality. Out of sympathy, Kaurismäki decided to stay away also. "Under the circumstances," Kaurismäki said in a faxed statement, "I, too, am forced to cancel my participation - for if the present government of the United States of America does not want an Iranian, they will hardly have any use for a Finn, either. We do not even have the oil." Kaurismäki might have lost his interest in participating in a festival in a country that denies fellow artists entry solely based on their nationality, but he has not lost his humor: "I would like to invite the present U.S. Secretary of Defense to a visit to Finland," the statement continues. "We could take a walk in the woods and pick mushrooms. That might calm him down." (Full text of Kaurismäki's statement.) Flickering Lights from the Avant-Garde The afternoon began with a selection from the "Views from the Avant-Garde," six non-narrative experimental films that clearly stretched the patience of some of my colleagues in attendance. After shocking animation with bodily fluids by Jose Rodriguez and the happy music video vibe of "Yes? Ja? Oui?" by Thomas Draschen and Ulrich Wiesner, the shorts settled into more strange lights and sounds, all of which were surprisingly low-tech. It seems that since Hollywood rules the vanguard of digital filmmaking, the avant-garde has to explore the edges of the analogue. The stand-out for me was the Canadian Izabella Pruska-Oldenhof's "Song of the Firefly," which shows the abstract, random, organic strobing produced by the insects of the title. Compared to the upcoming digital dazzlement "Naqoyqatsi," these films were inviting and refreshingly real. Bonjour Les Enfants
Nicolas
Philibert's "Etre et Avoir" (To Be and To Have), a documentary
account of a year in the life of a schoolhouse in France, finished off
the day. Unlike most documentaries, which aim to introduce the audience
to something new, "Etre et Avoir" shows the subjects of the
film learning things the viewer already knows. The teacher's patience
and kindness is admirable, and Philibert skillfully picks telling scenes.
Perhaps I am a grouch, for the film is unquestionably appealing, but the
unavoidable focus on the cuteness of the children's foibles left a too-sweet
taste in my mouth.
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