AFI’s EU Showcase ’14: Falling Star

In 1870 the Duke of Aosta was elected King of Spain. If the very concept of electing a monarch sounds weird, just wait till you get a load of the surreal treatment he gets in Lluis Miñarro’s anti-bio-picture. His reign was short and there would not be a King Amadeo II succeeding him. Frankly, he never had a chance to govern in any meaningful way, as Miñarro makes crystal clear in the otherwise subjectively hallucinatory Falling Star (trailer here), which screens during the AFI’s 2014 EU Film Showcase.

Shortly after his parliamentary election, King Amadeo’s most influential supporter is assassinated. Essentially, he becomes a lame duck before he is even sworn in, without any pomp or circumstance. Arguably, the self-described “Republican King” could have been a reformist force. He even advocated the separation of church and state. However, the Republicans, Basques, and Catalans simply were not having any further king business. Without a constituency, King Amadeo becomes a veritable prisoner in his palace.

With only a handful of servants and a few duplicitous ministers for company, the King’s mind starts to wander a bit. He is plagued with bizarre nightmares and shares some odd moments with the lusty serving wench who wanders in and out of the picture. He perks up a little when his wife María Vittoria finally joins him, but the die is cast.

In terms of effectiveness, Amadeo is right down there with Pu Yi, but the Spanish monarchy would rebound following his abdication and a brief Republican interregnum. In fact, he seems ripe for critical reappraisal given his relative progressiveness, but that is not really Miñarro’s program. Instead, he engages in the sort of playful postmodern historical anachronisms that everyone hated in Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette.

He also indulges in plenty of sexually charged flights of fantasy that emphasize bizarre imagery over explicit titillation (if you want to see a man having rough sex with a melon than you’re in business). In terms of visual composition and Mise en scène, Falling is not so very far removed from Albert Serra’s The Story of My Death, but Miñarro maintains a far punchier vibe (even though not a whole heck of a lot happens in an objective sense).

Resembling Franco Nero at the peak of his popularity, Àlex Brendemühl (chilling in The German Doctor) is terrific as King Amadeo, visibly choking down the anger and resentment of each new indignity. As María Vittoria, Bárbara Lennie’s regal screen presence and intriguing allure add a needed kick to the film, but none of the pervy servants are ever fleshed out (so to speak) into compelling characters.

Potential viewers should take note: Falling has a short but naughty stinger, so if you go, you might as well stay for the very end. On paper, it sounds like a wild romp, but the disparate elements never congeal into a satisfying whole. The one hundred eleven minute running time also feels all that and maybe more. Interesting as an opportunity to pop-psychoanalyze contemporary Spanish cultural currents, but a radically mixed bag as a movie-going experience, Falling Stars is only for self-selecting audiences when it screens tomorrow (12/19) and Sunday (12/21) as part of the AFI’s EU Film Showcase, outside of Washington, DC.

AFI’s EU Showcase ’14: Uncle Tony, Three Fools, and the Secret Service

High ranking secret policemen do not often get to present their own work at MoMA, but Donio Donev did. His involvement in the Bulgarian domestic intelligence service is an established fact now that his dossier has been released. However, Donev’s films really aren’t his films. It was always an open secret Anton Trayanov was the uncredited animator of beloved Bulgarian classics like The Three Fools, but Donev took all the bows on the international festival circuit. Mina Mileva & Vesela Kazakova set the record straight with Uncle Tony, Three Fools, and the Secret Service (trailer here), which screens during the AFI’s 2014 EU Film Showcase.

By all accounts, Donev really was a clever and skillful caricaturist, but he probably could not have animated a mouse if he shot 50,000 volts through it. Most Bulgarian filmmakers, especially those working in animation, knew Trayanov was the real artist responsible for some of the country’s best loved films. They also understood why his name was not on any of them. Under Communism, all of the film authority’s division heads and nearly all of the film directors were secret service agents.

Eventually, the understandably frustrated Trayanov was fired when he started complaining. For three years he survived as a construction worker for a Japanese firm building a luxury hotel in Sofia (lord knows why). He was lucky to get that gig, considering he was blackballed at every other Bulgarian state industry. Eventually, he started teaching animation at the National Academy Theater and Film Arts, where Mileva took his courses, before he was sacked again under murky circumstances.

Sadly, little has changed since the fall of Communism. The apparatchiks still jealously guard their power, but Trayanov might just get the last posthumous laugh. Although he died shortly after filming wrapped, his documentary had a record breaking theatrical run in Bulgaria. Not surprisingly, Donev’s family has threatened legal action. More troubling (if not necessarily shocking), Mileva and Kazakova have had they copyright protection revoked, award nominations rescinded, and endured a campaign of physical and emotional harassment.

It is easy to see why Uncle Tony et al touched a nerve. It addresses head on the privileges and abuses of position that have carried over from the Communist era. The case it makes on Trayanov’s behalf (and against Donev) is not just convincing. It is pretty much conclusive. In fact, there are a handful of scenes that are jaw-droppingly damning, as when Dimitar Tomov, animation chair of the National Academy, tries to convince Mileva Trayanov never taught the classes she enrolled in, through a combination of double-talk and Orwellian Newspeak. It is nearly as surreal watching an interviewer catch Donev in a telling contradiction during an archival television report. You have to wonder what happened to that poor guy.

Yet, UTTFTSS is as much a tribute to Trayanov and his films (and they really are his films) as it is an expose of institutionalized Party corruption. Despite all the wrongs done to him, Trayanov is an unflaggingly upbeat and winning presence on camera. Spending time with him is a pleasure. This is a genuinely bold documentary that will resonate with animation fans and anyone who values artistic freedom. If its cogently presented revelations do not forever change how you think of Bulgarian animation, nothing will. Highly recommended, Uncle Tony, Three Fools, and the Secret Service screens this coming Wednesday (12/17) and next Saturday (12/18), as part of the AFI’s EU Film Showcase, outside of Washington, DC.

AFI’s EU Showcase ’14: Waste Land

Géant is the Col. Kurtz of Belgian art dealers. He has definitely embraced the heart of darkness in the Congo. He even has his personal “witch doctor.” It is not clear that he really believes, if the cop pursuing him believes he believes, or even whether the cop starts to believe himself. Regardless, Det. Leo Woeste is in for a rough final investigation in Pieter Van Hees’s Waste Land (trailer here), which screens during the AFI’s 2014 EU Film Showcase.

Woeste is your basic cop on the edge. He tries to me a good husband and a responsible father to the step-son he has helped raise since infancy, but he has seen some terrible things. The fact that his new partner, Johnny Rimbaud, is a coke-fueled hedonist hardly stabilizes his erratic mood swings. When his wife Kathleen announces her pregnancy, but doubts the wisdom of keeping the baby, Woeste promises to retire from the force and start acting normal. Unfortunately, he has one last case to solve.

When an African immigrant is murdered and dumped in a garbage bag, the initial clues point towards Géant. Woeste tries to be extra-supportive to the slain man’s grieving sister, Aysha Tshimanga, perhaps because his fatherly instincts have been stimulated. However, their relationship soon takes on weird sexual overtones. She will accompany him to various underground boxing matches and hipster night clubs, where the throbbing hot house atmosphere will keep his head spinning.

Waste Land flirts with a lot of genres, but it never fully commits to any. It also injects some clumsy commentary on imperialism, particularly a running non-joke supposedly claiming Woeste is descended from Leopold II. Nevertheless, much of the second act investigation is rather compelling procedural stuff. Unfortunately, the climax is so self-consciously feverish, it undermines the gritty mystery and ambiguous genre elements that proceeded it.

Still, there is no denying Dardenne Brothers regular Jérémie Renier puts on a clinic as Woeste. This is fierce, no-holds-barred, rub-your-nose-in-the-self-destruction work, but it is never self-indulgent. In fact, he balances the inward burn with the outward rage quite adroitly. Babetida Sadjo also finds a spark in Tshimanga that elevates her beyond a mere victim, while Peter Van den Begin gorges on scenery as the roguish Rimbaud.

Despite its narrative frustrations, Waste Land is a massively stylish film. Cinematographer Menno Mans makes Brussels look like a real life Sin City, where most of the buildings are either abandoned warehouses or underground dance clubs. The opening sequence is especially evocative, in a disconcerting way. Nicely played and skillfully put together, Waste Land just lurches out of control down the stretch. Recommended for those who will admire its ambition, Waste Land screens this coming Tuesday (12/16) and Wednesday (12/17), as part of the AFI’s EU Film Showcase, outside of Washington, DC.