TIFF ’16: Ta’ang

They are the migrants the global hand-wringers prefer to ignore. They are peaceful, family-oriented, and have no desire to impose their faith on others. Their religion? Theravada Buddhism, why do you ask? Caught in the crossfire of civil unrest approaching full-scale civil war, at least ten thousand ethnic Ta’ang Burmese have fled into southwest China, but the UN has yet to scold the People’s Republic for not offering them a proper welcome. Instead, it falls once again on auteurist documentarian Wang Bing to prick the world’s conscience as best he can with Ta’ang (clip here), which screened during this year’s Toronto International Film Festival.

At a mere two hours and twenty-eight minutes, Ta’ang is downright svelte by Wang’s standards. Although he maintains his characteristically severe observational aesthetic, Ta’ang is also one of his most accessible films. At its core, it is about families struggling to stay together—something most everyone should be able to identify with on some level. Wang shot extensively at the Maidihe and Chachang refugee camps, but he spends even more time literally on the road with the displaced Ta’ang Burmese (they don’t call it Myanmar). Aside from one nasty busybody bullying an old woman in the opening scene, there are no officials of any kind to be found in the film. Nor are any soldiers seen, but the sounds of war are often audible in the background.

At least from what we gather through Wang’s lens, the Ta’ang are not waiting around for handouts from anyone. They really just want to get on with their lives and seem inclined to try anywhere. With their western t-shirts, they are clearly functionally assimilated with the modern, globalized world. Indeed, it is the cell phone, an obvious product of the modern age that keeps them connected with far-flung family members.

It is heart-breaking to see the Ta’ang children forced to grow up and accept adult responsibilities as their families head higher into the mountains or deeper into China in search of a more stable existence. Some refugees get all the breaks. It is no secret why. Buddhism just doesn’t have the same politically correct protections as faiths more inclined towards umbrage-taking.

Regardless, Ta’ang has Wang’s stamp all over it. There is the same patient pacing that allows moments to unfold in their own uncompressed time. Arguably, his sense of visual composition is even keener and sharper than ever, judging from his arresting fireside sequences that have the chiaroscuro glow of old masters. Two and half hours still represents a very real time commitment, but Ta’ang directly engages viewers on an emotional level, much like Three Sisters (as opposed to the ambitious but punishing ‘Til Madness Do Us Part). Highly recommended for anyone who really cares about refugee issues, Ta’ang is sure to have a long festival life following its screenings at this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’16: Window Horses

Poetry is highly valued in both Persian and Chinese cultures. Yet, tragically, both the current Iranian and Chinese governments frequently curtail free expression. Rosie Ming, a half-Chinese, half-Persian Canadian poet will discover just how complex the world is when she accepts an invitation to an Iranian poetry festival in Ann Marie Fleming’s Window Horses: The Persian Epiphany of Rosie Ming (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Toronto International Film Festival.

Ever since she was seven, Ming was raised by her supportive grandparents. She turned out okay, despite harboring deep resentments towards her absent Persian father. It was always Paris Ming dreamed of visiting, but when she self-published a book of verse, it is Shiraz that comes calling.

Obviously, Ming cannot resist such an adventure, but she is not prepared for the realities of Iranian life or the competitiveness of the festival. She is also shocked to find so many people who seem to know the father she assumed absconded shortly before her mother’s accidental death. She will also learn lessons in poetry (which of course can be applied to life) from Mehrnaz Filsoof, a professor and senior advisor to the festival, who becomes a mentor figure for Ming, and Didi, a Chinese poet, who became a dissident in exile following the Tiananmen Square massacre.

While Window Horses does not have the heft and punch of Satrapi & Paronnaud’s Persepolis (an obvious comparison film), it is clearly intended for a younger teen-ish audience. It is a sweet, plucky film, but it directly and forthrightly addresses issues of censorship and repression, in Iran and China. Viewers do get a sense of what Ming’s father Mehran went through after the Islamic Revolution. Yet, it will also resonate as the story of a “New adult” woman trying to find her voice and come to terms with her thorny family history.

Fleming’s animation is simpler and more expressionistic than in her widely screened short I was a Child of Holocaust Survivors, but its style is somewhat akin, rather fittingly, to Nina Paley’s Sita Sings the Blues. She evokes Eastern mysticism through colorful abstract backgrounds, yet manages to convey considerable emotion through the minimal use of line (as in the case of Ming, based on Fleming’s “Stick Girl” character). The film also boasts some very impressive voice talent, most notably including the great Shohreh Aghdashloo as Filsoof and the legendary Nancy Kwan (The Suzie Wong) as Ming’s mother, Gloria. Sandra Oh convincingly plays a generation or two younger as Rosie Ming and prominent Iranian-American actor Navid Negahban (another Stoning of Soraya M. alumnus) lends his commanding voice to Mehran.

Window Horses is a charming film for adults, but its target teen demo should keenly identify with Ming on a very personal level. It calls out censorship and intolerance, while keeping the mood light and the narrative accessible to mature pre-teens. Smart and endearing, Window Horses is very highly recommended when it screens again this Wednesday (9/13), as part of TIFF 2016.

TIFF ’16: Zoology

There has never been a swell time to be different in Russia, but standing out under the Putin regime is particularly problematic. Middle aged Natasha has never sought attention, so it is understandably alarming for her when she suddenly grows a tail. It is more conspicuous than a scarlet letter, yet she has done nothing to deserve it. The new appendage brings physical discomfort but it also has a bizarrely liberating effect in Ivan Tverdovsky’s Zoology (trailer here), which screens during this year's Toronto International Film Festival.

Natasha’s drab life could use some disruption. She toils as a food and supply procurement bureaucrat at a provincial zoo, where she is regularly bullied by her cliquish colleagues. Technically, she is still too young to be a babushka, but she already has the frumpish look. There are no men in her life, just her hyper-devout mother.

Initially, her tail is just another case of life dumping on her. However, when she seeks treatment at the local hospital, she meets Petya, the radiologist. What starts with a few humane favors prioritizing her appointments quickly progresses through friendship into an unlikely romance. Petya is not scared away by the long windy tail. In fact, he finds her uniqueness attractive—at least that is the positive way of spinning what might uncharitably be called a strange fetish. Regardless, Natasha starts sprucing herself up with makeup and fashionable clothes. However, all the rumors circulating among the Orthodox faithful regarding witches with tails, killing people with the evil eye does not bode well for the long term.

Given the film’s highly unflattering portrayal of a callously judgmental Orthodox Church, it is hard to resist reading allegorical meaning into Zoology, especially with respects to Putin’s policies marginalizing and metaphorically gagging Russian GLBT citizens. Clearly, the way Tverdovsky associates the tail with sexuality is not accidental either. Still, the Orthodox Church are not the only ones on the receiving end of his allegorical satire. A New Age self-help speaker also really takes it in the shins.

As Natasha, Natalia Pavlenkova is pretty incredible. Physically, she looks and carries herself like two entirely different people. However, she and Tverdovsky wisely do not flip a switch a transform her into an ultra-confident super-woman. She still has confidence issues and instinctively defers to authority (which is so very Russian). Nevertheless, there is a dramatic, downright rocky development arc that Pavlenkova makes quite compelling to watch. Similarly, Dmitriy Groshev avoids cliché, giving flesh and blood dimension to Petya. Natasha’s mother (played by stalwart Russian thesp Irina Chipizhenko) is essentially a moralizing stock character, but they are necessary in a film like this.

Despite its borderline body-horror, Zoology is a surprisingly quiet and reserved film. It sure seems to have a lot of points to make, but it never hits us over the head with them. Tverdovsky’s hand is pretty steady on the rudder, but it is Pavlekova’s remarkably assured performance that really makes the film. Recommended for fans of sophisticated contemporary urban fantasy, Zoology screens again tomorrow (9/11) and next Sunday (9/18), as part of TIFF 2016.