First Look ’19: Turning 18

It is an awkward milestone. Young adults start to take on legal responsibilities at the age of eighteen, but they are still just kids. Usually, the eighteenth birthday is a cause for celebration, but there will be much more frustration than joy in the lives of two Native Taiwanese girls. Ho Chao-ti follows the teenagers as they navigate their late teen years in Turning 18 (trailer here), which screens during this year’s First Look at MoMI.

Chen and Pei are not really close. They just happened to meet during a summer vocational training program, but they both have been dealt a tough hand by life. This is especially true for Chen, who has been sexually abused by her father and other male family members. She struggles to maintain a close relationship with her mother, but the older woman’s alcoholism and health problems make matters difficult.

In contrast, Pei has arguably contributed to her difficult situation by making some questionable decisions, most definitely including shacking up with her deadbeat boyfriend Wei. Of course, there must be reasons she would so passively accept her bad situation, but we do not learn very much about her backstory.

Regardless, viewers will quickly come to ache for poor, struggling Chen. In addition to having the more compelling life-drama, she is also a hugely charismatic figure on-screen. Plus, her narrative arc covers considerably more territory, especially when she comes out of the closet and begins to openly experience romance and heartache.

In many ways, Turning 18 is a perfect example of how documentaries often serve as the snobby cineaste’s version of reality TV. Ho definitely incorporates issues of discrimination against Native Taiwanese, but there are scenes of Chen pining for an unfaithful lover and Pei arguing with Wei that would not be out of place on MTV’s old Real World voyeurism festival.

Regardless, Ho’s commitment is impressive. She clearly earned her subjects trust, even becoming a confident over the years that she filmed Chen and Pei. There are plenty of social issue justifications to be made for the doc, but it still often feels intrusive and even exploitative (for the record, the same is true of Grey Gardens, for the same reasons). Recommended for patrons of up-close-and-personal documentaries, Turning 18 screens this Sunday (1/20), as part of First Look at MoMI.

First Look ’19: Carwash

Imagine O. Henry as realized by Éric Rohmer. Wilfrid, a small-time carwash chain owner, is being held captive by Thomas and Francis, two even smaller-time criminals—and he is basically okay with it. After all, there is no need to get worked up when you are enjoying a leisurely summer in Claude Schmitz’s Carwash (trailer here), which screens during this year’s First Look at MoMI.

It really is all about chump change. To repay a debt to their boss, the two lowlife crooks agree to abduct Wilfrid, forcing him to give up the coins generated by his carwashes everyday (12 Euros for a standard cleaning). Much to their relief, the minor carwash mogul is quite cooperative and civilized. In fact, he rather seems to enjoy the company. Soon, a sort of reverse Stockholm Syndrome sets in. The two bumbling thugs start drinking and singing late into the night with the ostensive captive. They even invite their girlfriends to enjoy a country getaway.

The Rohmer vibe in Carwash is so prominent, it must be deliberate. There is a similar, low-fi look, sparingly punctuated by a soundtrack of occasional snippets of classical and cheesy pop music. It is heavy on dialogue and light on dramatic plot points, but Carwash agreeably evokes the heat and smells of summer in the countryside.

The largely unknown cast playing their namesakes all blend in with Schmitz’s ultra-natural aesthetic. They definitely seem to be the awkward, grungy characters they play. Francis Soetens is roguishly charming, in a Belgian, mullet-sporting kind of way, as the older captor. Thomas Depas is reserved and schlubbily sad as his younger, comparatively more rational accomplice. Yet, Wilfrid Ameuille overshadows everyone as the sly, deceptively silly carwash owner.

This is a talky film that clocks in just a whisker under an hour, but sometimes you find yourself in the mood for something modest and pleasant. It is also very French. If you like Rohmer, you will flip for Carwash. Recommended for Francophiles in the mood for a quick, low-stress viewing experience, Carwash screens this coming Saturday (1/19) as part of First Look at MoMI.

First Look ’19: Turtle Rock

There are ten families with four surnames who have lived for generations in this tiny mountainous village. None of them talk very much—probably because they are out of practice. It is a hard life, but native-born filmmaker Xiao Xiao cannot help feel nostalgic for it when he documents the daily toils of his grandmother and their fellow villagers in Turtle Rock (trailer here), which screens during this year’s First Look at MoMI.

Turtle Rock village was named for a distinctly shaped rock formation. It is indeed picturesque, at least for outsiders. Villagers still work the land as best they can, but they are experiencing diminishing returns. Granted, this is the last site readers should go to for geologic analysis, but it looks pretty obvious Turtle Rock has some severe soil erosion problems.

Yet, despite the scarred landscape and hardscrabble homes, Turtle Rock is absolutely arresting in visual terms. Xiao Xiao (serving as his own cinematographer, editor, and sound guy) frames some stunning images, in stark black-and-white. The way he marries them with the natural, ambient sounds truly makes Turtle Rock an immersive film. He really puts you there in that distant corner of Hunan.

However, there is not a lot of drama going on in this documentary, just a lot of work and chores (quite a bit of which seems to involve pipes). Frankly, Xiao Xiao and “co-director”-producer Lin Lin will likely challenge many viewers’ conception of cinema. Just one look will make you respect his work, but it can be tiring. At one point, Xiao Xiao follows a villager silently trudging up a hill carrying a heavy bag of rice on his shoulders. It is an image that perfectly represents Turtle Rock’s subject matter and viewing experience.

Clearly, Turtle Rock is exactly the sort of village that has been overlooked by the Party and the PRC government, but the film itself almost entirely avoids addressing politics. Yet, there is one telling moment when villagers notice a broadside posted by the district Party enforcer, denouncing 16 unfortunates from neighboring villages, who had been “discredited.” Going to the trouble of shaming them in Turtle Rock seems like serious overkill.

Xiao Xiao’s talent is conspicuously evident, but if he maintains the strict aesthetic approach of Turtle Rock, he will remain a filmmaker for festival audiences. Watching his film is the closest thing to most of us will ever get to visiting Turtle Rock, even if the village continues to persist in its current state, suspended outside of time. Recommended for patrons of tactile, observational documentaries, Turtle Rock screens tomorrow (1/13), as part of First Look at MoMI.

First Look ’19: Rojo

Generally speaking, it was prudent to be polite to people connected to the establishment during the mid-1970s in Argentina. Alas, the man who causes a scene with Claudio, a well-respected provincial lawyer is not prone to prudence or politeness. His boorish behavior precipitates a crisis that haunts the counselor during the months to come in Benjamín Naishtat’s Rojo (trailer here), which screens during this year’s First Look at MoMI.

Everything goes to heck during the first act, but first comes the prologue, wherein a seemingly respectable suburban house is stripped of its furnishings by the seemingly respectable neighbors. This house will also have a call-back later in the film. For now, Claudio is patiently waiting for his compulsively late wife at his table in a crowded restaurant. An angry, slightly-hippyish outsider quite begrudges him his table and the privilege it implies, as he makes clear in no uncertain terms. Claudio will relinquish the table but he gives the stranger such a brutal dressing down for his lack of good breeding and adequate socialization, the aggrieved younger man will come looking for Claudio after dinner.

One unlikely thing leads to another and before you know it, Claudio is taking the man on a late-night drive deep into the desert, where he will be permanently deposited for sake-keeping. Claudio’s life proceeds uneventfully (just the way he likes it) for a few months and then it suddenly gets complicated. First, a social acquaintance recruits him for a scheme to profitably acquire the abandoned house from the prologue. Next, Sinclair, a celebrity detective from Chile arrives to investigate the disappearance of the man from the first act. Tangentially, they are both connected. Thematically, they are also symptomatic of the pre-coup moral malaise.

Rojo is considered Naishat’s most accessible film to date, but there are still moments when the dramatic awkwardness borders on the outright surreal (like there’s a touch of Yorgos Lanthimos in there, but nothing close to the full Lobster). Nevertheless, he incorporates some legit thriller elements, while executing the political morality play with a surprisingly light touch. This is definitely an off-center film that is often disconcerting, but it is also highly watchable.

Dario Grandinetti shows impressive range as Claudio, from the grand moralizer who obliterates the angry man’s self-image to the craven weasel dissembling and prevaricating under Sinclair’s questioning. Diego Cremonesi is bitterness personified as the angry mystery man, while Alfredo Castro gleefully chews the scenery as Sinclair, like an infernal cross between Det. Columbo and Inspector Javert.

Naishat definitely captures the dingy tackiness of the 1970s as well as the overheated tenor of the times. It is an odd film, but Naishat lands his punches and brings it all together down the stretch. In many ways, it is considerably more effective than the Oscar-winning The Secret in Their Eyes. Highly recommended for moderately adventurous viewers, Rojo screens this Sunday (1/13), as part of First Look at MoMI.

First Look ’19: The Pluto Moment

It is even harder to be an independent filmmaker in China than it is here. Fortunately, Wang Zhun is all about doing things the hard way. He will lead a scouting trip into the Sichuan mountains in search of an authentic performance of a traditional mourning song before his producer can arrange adequate financing. He hasn’t even finished the script, for that matter. Nevertheless, he might just find something to stimulate his creative process, even if he was not looking for it in Zhang Ming’s The Pluto Moment, which screens during this year’s First Look at MoMI.

Wang is famous enough to be married to superstar Gao Li, but not commercial enough for her management to encourage her appearance in his upcoming film. Yet, she is still willing, if he would just finish the script. For inspiration (or procrastination), Wang and his producer Ding Hongmin head off to provincial Sichuan, hoping to record The Tale of Darkness, an epic oral poem that somehow was converted into a funeral dirge. Ding is also hoping to land a sponsorship from one of the county governments through the back-scratching of their fixer, Luo, a modestly corrupt local official. Alas, both song and funding prove elusive.

They have no money and no script, but they still have crew problems when the assistant director Du Chun goes AWOL. Ding immediately suspects Wang has engaged in a smarmy behavior with her. Although there is something between them, it is more complicated and ambiguous than the producer (and everyone else) assumes. Eventually, the skeleton crew decides to follow Luo’s vague leads for legit Tale of Darkness performances at even more remote villages. At this point, Wang’s troubled film becomes the no-budget equivalent of Herzog’s Fitzcarraldo or Gilliam’s Man of La Mancha.

In the third act, Pluto takes a sharp turn and a dramatic shift in perspective that you just have to go with, because it really makes the film different and sad and special. Zeng Meihuizi (a.k.a. Chloe Maayan) is remarkably sensitive and sensual as Chun Tai, the widowed innkeeper who hosts Wang Zhun. Wang Xuebing does some of his best work to date as the lost (literally and figuratively) director. It hardly seems like much of an armchair psychiatrist’s stretch to speculate how his own career scandal gave him greater affinity for the professionally marginalized Wang Zhun.

It is a strong ensemble all the way around. Liu Dan is so acerbic and jaundiced as Ding the producer, you have to be charmed by her. Likewise, Yi Ping portrays all of Luo’s pettiness and pomposity in a very human way, without resorting to shtick or bombast. Only Yi Daqian looks like he is reaching as Bai Jinbo, the young actor forced to serve as the production gofer.

Cinematographer Li Jinyang makes the Sichuan mountainside look mysterious and even mystical. Frankly, this is one of the few films that would probably continue to yield more through repeat viewings over time. It is one of the best films about the filmmaking process since Day for Night, which is high praise indeed. Very enthusiastically recommended, The Pluto Moment screens this Sunday (1/13), as part of First Look at MoMI.

First Look ’19: The Trial

It was like the Court TV and legal reality shows of the 1930s, but none of it was true. The Moscow Show Trials were a propaganda spectacle that had nothing to do with justice (or truth). Prolific documentarian Sergei Loznitsa whittles eleven days of archival footage recordings of the so-called “Industrial Party Trial” down to a one hundred twenty-some minute found footage documentary in The Trial (trailer here), which screens during this year’s First Look at MoMI.

In late 1930, a group of engineers and economists dubbed “The Wreckers” were put on trial for economic sabotage, scapegoating them for the Soviet Union’s dismal economic performance. Aside from the names and employment history of the accused, not one single truthful word was uttered during the proceeding. It was all a fabrication—every word and every syllable. Yet, the accused duly confessed to the charges leveled against them. Some had surely been worked over by the OGPU (an earlier forerunner of the KGB), whereas others perhaps confessed due to psychological pressure and a perverse sense of loyalty, like Rubashov in Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon.

Even though The Trial only presents events that were deliberately staged for public consumption, it vividly illustrates how the Soviet legal system was designed to crush the spirit of the accused. Frankly, we would have confessed to anything to stop the constant, soul-deadening repetition of charges against the alleged “Industrial Party” members. Yet, that is definitely part of the “Big Lie” strategy employed by the Soviets. It is also rather disconcerting to the pre-approved spontaneous demonstrations against the accused playing out on the streets outside

Rather ominously, The Trial is only too relevant in the modern day and age. Although the Russian Neo-Soviet regime has conducted secret trials of abducted Ukrainian nationals, like filmmaker Oleg Sentsov, the outcome is just as rigged as Moscow Show Trials. It was not pretty, yet in some cases, the ultimate fate of several “Industrial Party Members” remains unknown.

The Trial can be difficult to watch, for both aesthetic and humanistic reasons. However, Loznitsa’s meticulous craftsmanship is quite impressive. Viewers who fight their way through to the finish will glean a deeper understanding the machinery and propaganda of oppressive regimes. Obviously, The Trial is an acutely timely film, in a depressing second-verse-same-as-the-first kind of way, but it is also fascinating to see the images of the early Soviet era echo and reverberate over time. Recommended for hardy, free-thinking cineastes, The Trial screens this Saturday (1/12), as part of First Look at MoMI.

First Look ’19: Donbass

Many of the so-called separatists in Ukraine’s Donetsk region are really Russian military out of uniform. What are the implications for Russian-speakers who chose to support this illegal military operation? Nothing short of the death of civil society and the beginning of their own oppression. That is the inescapable takeaway that comes through loud and clear in Belorussian-born, formerly Russian-based Ukrainian filmmaker Sergei Loznitsa’s Donbass (trailer here), Ukraine’s official foreign language Oscar submission, which screens as the opening night film of this year’s First Look at MoMI.

Disinformation (the term “fake news” makes it sound trivial) is a major theme running through Donbass. As the film opens, a group of extras are in makeup, awaiting their closeups in a bogus Russian news report about a phony “fascist” bus bombing (torched by the Russian propagandists themselves). It is crude, yet somewhat effective.

Thus, begins a rondo-style film, in which members of the would-be Russian breakaway puppet-state confront their new masters. We see paramilitaries menace the German journalist their commanders are trying to favorably impress. One of the new political wheeler-dealers tries to make a show for the staff and media of a stockpile of supplies supposedly confiscated from the former hospital director, but nobody is buying it (least of all him).

In one of the film’s most potent and stinging sequences, a Russian-inclined small business owner learns what happens when he tries to assert his rights and claim the van appropriated by the separatist paramilitaries. Viewers familiar with Loznitsa’s work will see shades of My Joy in a narrative arc that out as a satire of bureaucracy, but quickly evolves into a blend of Kafkaesque and Orwellian horror. Perhaps the most damning but least overtly political segment chronicles the rowdy marriage ceremony of two ghoulish crude supporters of the new Russian-backed regime. Here we see shades of the grotesque absurdity he previously unleashed in A Gentle Creature.

Yet, frame-for-frame and second-for-second, easily the most horrifying segment dramatizes the public pillorying of a Ukrainian self-defense force volunteer captured by the Russian-controlled separatist gangs. The brutal beatings and humiliations meted down on him are a sickening spectacle, which his tormentors gleefully record on their smart phones. It is a staggering sequence of cinema, anchored by the silent dignity of Valery Antoniuk’s performance as the tortured prisoner.

Yet, the kicker is the wrap-around conclusion that returns to the actors appearing in the propaganda reports. What happens to them makes it bitingly clear those collaborating with the Russians are only sowing the seeds of their own misery. It is a brilliant, bracing finish.

In some ways, Donbass is stylistically akin to Roy Andersson’s A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence, but it comes from the other side of the political spectrum and it has much more to say. Granted, the relay-rondo structure inevitably produces a bit of unevenness, but it is frequently razor-sharp, forceful as heck, and relentlessly honest. This is a major cinematic statement from one of the most important filmmakers working today. Very highly recommended, Donbass screens this Friday (1/11) at MoMI, launching First Look 2019.