TIFF ’14: Still the Water

There is nothing like discovering a body to hasten the coming of age process. Frankly, sixteen year-old Kaito could maybe use the kick-start. His prospective girlfriend Kyoko has also offered encouragement, but he has been slow to fully respond in Naomi Kawase’s Still the Water (clip here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

On an island like Aami Oshima, typhoons are a fact of life. As a result, residents necessarily have a heightened awareness of the natural and spiritual worlds. This is particularly true of Kyoko’s mother Isa. As a shaman, she has always navigated between the divine and terrestrial planes. Unfortunately, she will soon crossover for good, as she slowly succumbs to a terminal illness.

Unlike, Kyoko, Kaito is not a native islander and he definitely does not share her affinity for the ocean. Having recently moved from Tokyo with his mother Misaki, following her divorce from his tattoo artist father, Kaito carried quite a bit of baggage with him. Yet, he slowly starts to form a connection with Kyoko, even though she is preparing herself for her mother’s imminent death.

Kawase is sort of a lover-her-or-hate-her filmmaker. If you require plotty narrative and zippy dialogue, than keep looking. However, if you are enraptured by grand natural vistas invested with sense of deeper mystical portent, this is the film for you. Like Kawase’s Mourning Forest (ironically a more demanding, yet more emotionally resonant work), Still looks lovely (although not quite as arresting as Forest). Cinematographer Yutaka Yamazaki gives it a shimmering, slightly nostalgic vibe not unlike the Kore-eda films he previously lensed, particularly Still Walking. Hashiken’s score also serves as an effective mood-setter, evoking western string ensemble chamber music, with a hint of traditional Japanese forms.

Despite Kawase’s loose approach to narrative, there is considerable inequity between the film’s two main forks, represented by Kyoko and Kaito. It is impossible not to be moved by Kyoko’s parents, savoring the family’s simple pleasures together while they can. As Kyoko, Jun Yoshinaga’s eyes seem to leap out of the screen and peer into your soul. Likewise, the rugged Tetta Sugimoto and ethereal Miyuki Matsuda are genuinely touching, conveying years of shared history in a word or a gesture.

In contrast, Kaito is supposed to be a bit of a pill—and Nijiro Murakami plays him accordingly. Considering the quiet and meditative tone of much of the film, his scenes of awkward melodrama stick out rather conspicuously.

At two hours almost on the dot, Still could have stood a bit of pruning, especially the inconsistent third act. Editor Tina Baz must have lost a lot of arguments to Kawase. It is an undisciplined film, but it is often beautiful. Those who appreciate “slow cinema” will find much to see and hear. Recommended circumspectly for Kawase’s admirers and filmgoers who prioritize atmosphere above all else, Still the Water screens again tomorrow (9/14) at this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: Le beau danger

Like most writers, Romanian novelist Norman Manea’s fiction is often highly autobiographical. Considering he survived both the Holocaust and the Ceauşescu regime’s persecution, how could it not be? Since 1986, Manea has lived in a state of sort of, but not really, self-imposed exile, teaching at Bard College, but still writing in his native Romanian. René Frölke employs Manea’s own words to tell his life story, in a distinctively elliptical and suggestive fashion, throughout Le beau danger (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

It might seem strange that a film about Manea takes its title from a brief essay by Michel Foucault, but it is worth remembering in the 1980s the French post-structuralist theorist became a fairly consistent critic of Soviet Communism and a supporter of Solidarity. Regardless, his argument language serves as a movable refuge is certainly apt in Manea’s case. Rather than a traditional parade of dates and archival photos, viewers will read significant extracts of his work (in English translation) that give a vivid feeling for his early years. The selections from his story “We Might Have Been Four” are particularly evocative—pastoral in tone and setting, but marked by an ominous atmosphere and mounting sense of alienation.

In many ways, LBD is a study in contrasts, starting with Manea himself. Unlike Kosinski and Nabokov, Manea never ceased writing in Romanian, despite his residency in the bucolic Hudson River region. Given his age and accomplishments, he could easily get away with playing the curmudgeon card, yet Manea appears to be quite a gracious good sport when Frölke follows him at European book festivals and at various media appearances and master classes.

Frölke has a keen eye for intriguing visuals, often using grainy 16mm for eerie effect. The use of simple ambient sound is also quite canny. At times, he might linger on some pedestrian imagery a bit too long, but many scenes are tightly packed with power and meaning—especially a sequence in a Romanian Jewish cemetery. Although no words are spoken, the significance of the 1942 and 1943 dates of death are inescapable.

LBD is an elegantly crafted film, but there is a reason why TIFF programmed it as a Wavelength selection. Essentially, that is the track for films that might confuse people. However, those who have sufficient patience will take a great deal from Manea’s words and his pessimistically humanistic outlook. It would be nice to see this film get a theatrical run at Anthology Film Archives and aesthetically similar theaters. It will only appeal to select audience, but they ought to have a chance to see it. Recommended for highly literate viewers, Le beau danger screens again on Sunday (9/14) as part of this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: Gyeongju

It is one of South Korea’s leading tourist destinations, famous for its Silla-era royal tombs and Buddhist temples. Of course, people live there all year round, going about their business in the shadow of the past. Carrying on with life poses its own quiet challenges for a visiting academic and a local teahouse owner in Zhang Lu’s Gyeongju (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

Choi Hyeon has almost become more Chinese than Korean. For many years the socially awkward expat has taught regional political science at Beijing University. He is fluent in Chinese and married a Chinese woman. In fact, employees of the visitors’ center just assume he is Chinese. After a long absence, he returned for the funeral of an old friend. In the mood for reflection, he subsequently takes a side-trip to Gyeongju hoping to find a particular teahouse that looms large in his memory. He duly finds the establishment, now run by Gong Yun-hui, but she has papered over the obscene folk painting he remembers so well (for obvious reasons).

Initially, Gong assumes Choi is some sort of pervert, given his unhealthy fascination with the painting, but she will change her opinion over time. Choi will return to the one spot in town where he feels somewhat relaxed after a failed attempt to reconnect with an old flame. As he lingers in Gong’s company, we start to see they are somewhat kindred spirits. However, her friends will not take to him, particularly the police detective who has long carried a torch for Gong.

Gyeongju is an exquisitely sad, deeply felt film that has much to reveal about its characters. Steadily and almost stealthily Zhang peels back their protective layers, as their conversation becomes less guarded. Yet, unlike the Linklater “Before” trilogy (which some have compared it with), you really cannot say Gyeongju is a talky film, because of its eloquent silences.

Indeed, you will be hard pressed to find anyone who can say more with so few words as Shin Min-a. As Gong (or the Goddess of Gyeongju as her dedicated friends call her), she is truly radiant. When she slowly divulges her painful history, it is absolutely devastating. In contrast, Park Hae-il deliberately looks genuinely ill at ease with himself and others. Yet, the chemistry he develops with Shin is subtle, but very real.

Aside from the Tumuli Park Belt tombs, Zhang (the former documentarian) does not fully exploit Gyeongju’s historic attractions. Nevertheless, the film has a tactile sense of place. You can practically smell the mustiness after a late afternoon rain and feel the late night breeze as Gong, Choi, and the detective drunkenly clamber up one of the tombs.

Throughout the film, Zhang masterfully commands the mood and tone, but he nearly sabotages himself when we hear of the potential tragic end of two tangential characters met in passing. Wondering if they are really the one who met such a fate temporarily distracts from the bittersweet business at hand. Nevertheless, Shin and Park quickly bail him out with their smart, mature work. Unusually (and refreshingly) chaste for a ships-in-the-night film, Gyeongju is loaded with understated power and resonance. Highly recommended, it screens again tomorrow morning (9/11) and this coming Sunday (9/14), as part of this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: Partners in Crime

Taiwan must have the worst school counselors in the world. The trauma intervention three teenagers receive after discovering a dead schoolmate is more like detention than treatment, but they are not very disturbed by the experience anyway. In fact, it initially appears to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship before things take a dark turn in Chang Jung-chi’s Partners in Crime (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

As the poster art makes abundantly clear, there is no mystery regarding the cause of Hsia Wei-chao’s death. Just why she presumably threw herself out of her mother’s upscale apartment is a different matter. Hsia was pretty, rich, reserved, and therefore highly unpopular. When Huang, Lin, and Yeh stumble across her body in the street, they dutifully call the police. Strangely, it is a bonding experience for the trio, especially the constantly bullied Huang. Yet, even Yeh the tough guy-slacker and Lin, a popular kid in a geek-chic kind of way, find they can relax in each others’ company.

Even after their pointless counseling sessions, the boys keep meeting to share the information they turn up on Hsia. Huang is an especially good investigator. Before long, they are clandestinely hanging in Hsia’s room while her sort of grieving mother is away on business. Believing he has identified the classmate who drove Hsia to suicide, Huang hatches an elaborate revenge plot. It will definitely not end as he plans.

It seems student dramas are perennially popular in Taiwan. Some are upbeat and endearing, like Hou Chi-jan’s When a Wolf Falls in Love with a Sheep—and some are not, like Partners. Think of it as a Breakfast Club with dead bodies. It is more of a why-dunit than a whodunit, but there are still some unsettling revelations to ferret out. Yet throughout it all, Chang shows a rather deep and forgiving understanding of the messiness of human nature.

There are at least six meaty roles for Chang’s high school-aged cast (or so they certainly look) and he gets solid to hauntingly good performances from them all. Chang is no stranger to young people’s stories, having broken through internationally with Touch of the Light, but this is a far more taut and murky affair than fans of his previous film would expect, despite the occasional stylistic excess here and there. Arguably, it should hold greater appeal for NYAFF/Fantasia patrons than for anyone looking for a date film. However, its tragic nature should lead to some nice local box office change nonetheless.

Ultimately, Partners resists easy sentimentality, reminding viewers how difficult it is to truly understand peoples’ lives from a distant outside perspective. However, it is not a Rashomon like exercise problematizing truth as an objective standard. Instead, that might be something that can eventually be sussed out with sufficient time and sensitivity. Recommended for fans of mysteries and teen dramas with savage bite, Partners in Crime screens again tomorrow (9/11) and Friday (9/12) at this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: I Am Here

First Morgan Spurlock signs on for the One Direction back-stagey doc and now Lixin Fan, the director of the gritty, class conscious Last Train Home, turns his lens on the Chinese reality show Super Boy. In truth, they are really not the same kind of project. Granted, anyone with a smidge of familiarity with sing-offs like Idol will immediately get Super Boy, but the Chinese show is a bit more exploitative than its Western cousins (shocker, right?). Fan captures of a season’s worth of drama fly-on-the-wall style in I Am Here (a.k.a. No Zuo No Die, trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

Right from the start, Fan counts down the days until the Super Boy finale. The principle is basically the same as any other talent show, but some rounds feature contestants challenging each other in head to head duels. Yet, none of the Super Boys has much taste for going mano a mano. Since they live together sequestered from the outside world in the Super Boy training complex, the impressionable youths form strong bonds over time. As a result, they seem more likely to sacrifice themselves than administer the coup de grace to a friend and competitor.

Arguably, the neurotic nature of the Super Boys might be part of the draw. They sound okay in performance (at least from what we hear), but the coaches are often frustrated when viewer popularity trumps a superior performance. Yes, life is not fair in reality television.

It is difficult to make hard and fast judgments about the adult supervision on Super Boy. Sometimes the coaches act like martinets and the judges can be bizarrely unprofessional. Frankly, breakout Super Girl contestant Zeng Yike comes across as a much more intriguing figure during her brief screen time than any of the Super Boys Fan follows. At one point, a judge summarily quit on-air when she passed through to the next round. Since then, she has generated considerable media attention for her striking but somewhat androgynous style.

In fact, despite all the behind-the-scenes time the audience gets with the current crop of Super Boys, Fan never really establishes their discrete personalities to any meaningful degree. Considering how many of them wear similarly twee Harry Potter spectacles and hipster couture, it is easy to mix them up.

True, the Super Boy franchise frequently resembles a factory, but not one as soulless as those the subjects of Last Train Home toil in. Perhaps a decade ago, the extent to which the Super Boys live in a web-streamed fishbowl might have been shocking, but now it is sort of business as usual.

Indeed, the entire documentary might be old news for Super Boy fans by now. For Americans, it offers an intriguing look at Chinese media, but Fan’s approach is rather betwixt-and-between. At times, he captures some warts-and-all reality show reality, but there are also many fannish Hard Day’s Night interludes. Still, he certainly has an eye for visuals. Interesting but uneven, I Am Here is mostly recommended for hardcore China watchers and potential expats looking for some pop culture background when it screens again this Thursday (9/11) and Sunday (9/14) as part of this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: Men Who Save the World

Pak Awang’s Malaysian dream is a lot like the American dream. He wants a better life for his daughter. He hopes to realize his ambitions with the “American House,” so-called because it was originally painted white (White House, get it?). Unfortunately, superstition will thwart him at every turn in Liew Seng Tat’s Men Who Save the World (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

Pak Awang’s daughter is moving back from the big city to get married and settle down in his provincial village. She will need a house, but he just happens to own a spare. The problem is the American House is buried deep in the jungle and has fallen into a state of disrepair. It also happens to have a reputation for being haunted. Pak Awang needs the help of his fellow villagers to carry off its foundations and into town. Even given their work-resistant nature, forty or so the men ought to be able to handle the job. Oddly though, as soon as they start the arduous task strange things start occurring, playing into the villagers’ supernatural fears.

Of course, nothing uncanny is really afoot. Most of the unexplained phenomena are actually attributable to Solomon, an undocumented African worker, hiding out in the formerly white house. There are plenty of other subplots to further complicate matters, including the town’s Tom and Huck, who are determined to free the camel designated for the annual sacrifice. Soon the American House is stranded midway, while the men don drag to hunt down the “Oily Man” demon, as per the dubious counsel of a local shaman-confidence artist.

Initially, MWSTW starts out like the sort of low-key slice of life village comedy that used to be the bread-and-butter of indie film distribution. However, it takes a surprisingly dark turn, skewering the superstitious balderdash of the town’s Muezzin and the regional political boss. Islamic faith does not exactly move mountains in Liew’s film and it certainly doesn’t move Pak Awang’s house. Perhaps that is why reviews coming out of Locarno were bizarrely dismissive, roundly criticizing Liew for not politicizing Solomon’s plight as a migrant worker.

Instead, Liew delves into the dynamic of the not so tight little village, focusing on Pak Awang’s mounting frustrations. Wan Hanafi Su is absolutely terrific as the maybe too-gruff-for-his-own-good father. He brings real dignity to the film that convincingly evolves into visceral anger and bitterness. Frankly, the supporting cast looks a bit shticky in comparison, except the wide-eyed camel-rescuing youngsters, whose energy and innocence represent substantial contributions.

Granted, MWSTW is a bit uneven, but its humor is organically derived from the specific realities of this Malay community. It is true the film is Y chromosome affair, but it is set smack dab in the Southeast Asian Muslim world after all. Such complaints lose sight of the film’s satiric bite, vivid sense of place, and several cleverly staged scenes that neatly play games with viewers’ perspective. Indeed, it is quite a distinctive package thanks to Teoh Gay Hian’s richly evocative cinematography and Luka Kuncevic’s rhythmic, genre-defying score. Recommended for the somewhat but not overly adventurous, Men Who Save the World screens again this Thursday (9/11), and Saturday (9/13) as part of this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: Backcountry

Hipsters like to think nature is romantic and awe-inspiring. Actually, it is dangerous and uncomfortable. Alex thinks he will prove the former idealized view to his reluctant girlfriend Jenn, but instead he will simply confirm latter in spades during the course of Adam MacDonald’s Backcountry, which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

Alex insists this trip is going to so awesome, because he will show Jenn his favorite trail to hike. You see it leads to this totally cool lake. Of course, he knows these woods so well he does not even need to pick up a map at the ranger station. Frankly, it is rather baffling why she didn’t just dump his butt in the car. She will soon wonder about that herself, but before she reaches that point, they run into Brad, a slightly intense trail guide, whom brings out Alex’s competitive instincts.

Eventually, Brad takes his Irish accent and moves on, but the couple remains uneasy. After all, it is obvious to Jenn the stranger knows the territory much better than her boyfriend. In fact, Alex soon has them hopelessly lost. With their water and provisions depleted, the not so happy campers soon see signs of bear activity.

Although billed as a thriller, Backcountry is more closely akin to Lee Tamahori’s under-appreciated The Edge. While nobody compares to Sir Anthony Hopkins, MacDonald’s cast is definitely more accomplished than that of Christopher Denham’s Preservation, another natural comparison title. However, Denham wastes little time cutting to the chase, whereas Backcountry is rather slow out of the blocks.

It is worth repeating, if you want to survive in the wild, stick with the city folk, because you can trust their survival instincts far more than those of the granola outdoorsy types. Jenn will be a case in point. Missy Peregrym is suitably down-to-earth as the down-to-business Jenn. Not afraid to get muddy, she comes to look like she is surviving quite an ordeal. In contrast, Jeff Roop’s whiny portrayal of Alex does not wear as well. However, it is nice to see Nicholas Campbell (of Da Vinci’s Inquest) appearing briefly as the park ranger and confirming Backcountry’s Canadian bonafides.

MacDonald nicely stages the film’s natural perils (definitely including an animal attack here and there), but the relationship issues are probably a bit too prominent in the dramatic mix. Never dull (but sometimes exhausting for the wrong reasons) Backcountry is an imperfect but competently executed survival story that will probably count on plenty of local support when it screens again tomorrow (9/10) at this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: 8 Bullets (short)

A man who survived a violent attack on his family will seek revenge largely relying on his sense of smell. That will very likely be as problematic in practice as it sounds. Indeed, the protagonist’s memories and perceptions are all subject to question throughout Frank Ternier’s stylish but unsettling animated short 8 Bullets (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

Gabriel is a French expat living in Taipei. His backstory remains mysterious, but as we learn from the disembodied bystanders, he was the victim of a red-headed gunman’s vicious assault. Evidently, he wife was killed and his daughter was wounded in the leg, but Gabriel somehow survived a shot to the head, or at least that is the version he believes. Regardless, he has not been the same since that fateful day.

For the last six months, Gabriel has prowled the streets looking for a red-headed gangster who smells of fried food. He carries an equalizer, fully loads with said bullets for when he finds his prey. It is all very hardboiled, even though Gabriel’s sanity is clearly rather tenuous.

Ternier’s stylistic approach suggests the sort of films David Lynch makes are better suited to animation rather than live action. Although Ternier tells a strictly linear narrative, his visuals dramatically reflect the warped and unreliable perspective of his protagonist. He also nicely expresses Gabriel’s sense of otherness as a Frenchman in a foreign land.

While Ternier lays on the closing irony pretty heavily, his hip noir sensibility is rather cool overall. Most importantly, the animation is quite distinctive, evoking traditional watercolor techniques as well as contemporary comic art. Recommended for fans of animation and film noir, 8 Bullets screens again this Saturday (9/13) as part of Short Cuts International Programme 4 at this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: In Her Place

It is one of the few relationships Hallmark has yet to crack. It is hard to define just what this moody teen represents to her well-heeled visitor, aside from being the mother of her future baby. The two women will share intimate moments, but there will always be a wall dividing them in Korean-Canadian filmmaker Albert Shin’s In Her Place (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

It is safe to say the Girl is troubled. Frankly, her swelling stomach is only one of her problems, but it is the most conspicuous one. For her Mother, the Woman from Seoul is a Godsend. She will help out during the final months of pregnancy, footing all the bills and providing enough additional money for the Mother to get the run down farm back on its feet again. In exchange, she will leave with the baby, claiming it as her own. This being Korea, social conventions demand they keep everything hush-hush. However, the Girl is the wild card in their best laid plans.

Not surprisingly, boys are a point of contention with her, but she has even deeper issues regarding self-esteem and abandonment. The Woman from Seoul partly understands this, but not fully so. She will take the time to get to know the Girl (as well as the kind of-sort of boyfriend who is quite surprised to learn of her condition), but the management-labor dynamic is hard to shake.

A vibe of foreboding hangs over IHP right from the start and the third act is a bit protracted, yet the film’s ultimate tragedy still hits viewers with the force of a locomotive traveling at full steam. Credit goes to the three principle women, who are each truly devastating, but in a very different ways. Ahn Ji-hye is clearly a young breakout star of the future, who maintains viewer sympathy and credibility despite all her painfully self-destructive acting out. She could easily be the next Kim Go-eun (sort of the reigning Jennifer Lawrence of Korean Cinema).

While many American indie filmmakers would be tempted to portray the Woman from Seoul as a one-percent exploiter, Shin and co-writer Pearl Ball-Harding take great effort to humanize and explain her. She is a complicated character, whose past pain and disappointments are subtly but powerfully conveyed by Yoon Da-kyung. Yet, it is Kil Hae-yeon’s Mother who really sneaks up on the audience and rips everyone’s guts out. In all fairness, it should also be noted two of the guys (Kim Chang-hwan as the clueless Boy and Kim Seung-cheol as the Mother’s farmhand-crony) are also very good, but they are doomed to be overshadowed by the women.

After watching IHP you need a couple days to make peace with it, but in all honesty, it is rare to find films that get under the skin in such a fashion. It is also an usually quiet film that adeptly captures the stark silence and loneliness of its rural setting. Cinematographer Moon Myoung Hwan truly transports us to that hardscrabble locale. It is a demanding film, but it constitutes impressive work all the way around. Recommended for discerning audiences, In Her Place screens again this Tuesday (9/9) as part of this year’s TIFF.

TIFF ’14: The Vanished Elephant

Edo Celeste’s bestselling sleuth Felipe Aranda is supposed to be the good guy, but he might be more akin to Stephen King’s Dark Half. The man who posed for a series of pictures inspired by Celeste’s books seems to take the role way too seriously, especially when the author hints he may soon end the popular series. Celeste begins to suspect the man of crimes both new and old in Javier Fuentes-León’s The Vanished Elephant (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival.

The one case the ex-cop turned mystery novelist never cracked was the 2007 disappearance of his fiancée Celia Espinoza. The timing was particular unfortunate, occurring during an earthquake that rocked coastal Peru. It turns out it also coincided with the presumed death of Mara de Barclay’s first husband. Celeste was blissfully unaware of this fact until the remarried Barclay had her strong arm servants arrange a meeting. She was rather baffled to receive an envelope addressed to Celeste bearing her supposedly late husband’s handwriting.

The assortment of cryptic photographs inside does not immediately stimulate Celeste’s curiosity, but he will get to them in good time. However, he is instantly struck by Rafael Pineda, the tough talking model, who is a perfect dead ringer for the Aranda Celeste always imagined. As he investigates the shady Pineda, events start to parallel his Aranda novels, including the one he is currently writing.

How much viewers will enjoy Elephant depends on what they value most in mystery-thrillers, the structure and conventions or the trappings and atmosphere. Fuentes-León creates a terrifically moody vibe, but the film evolves into a series of increasingly intricate Lynchian mind teasers, which are quite clever if you enjoy that sort of gamesmanship. More conventional audiences should be warned, Celeste will never gather together his suspects to give them the “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you all together” talk.

Nevertheless, there are really intriguing clues dispersed throughout the film, such as the titular subplot revolving around a pachyderm shaped rock formation in Paracas that supposedly really crumbled into the ocean during the earthquake, but remains unconfirmed by google. There are similarly strange bits and pieces that stick in your head even more than grand reveal it all builds towards.

Salvador del Solar might set a new world’s record for jaded world-weariness as the haggard Celeste. He convincingly carries himself like an ex-cop and looks reasonably intelligent doing some reckless things. Likewise, Lucho Cáceres projects the right sort of vague, hard to define menace as Pineda (or should that be Aranda).

While Fuentes-León’s feature debut Undertow was quite a nice little film, nothing about it would lead viewers to expect a follow-up like Elephant. He smoothly stages some remarkably complicated scenes, while maintaining a satisfyingly noir vibe. Cinematographer Mauricio Vidal gives it all a soft, mysterious look, while art director Susana Torres provides a lot of cool stuff, like a painting of the Vanished Elephant. It all makes for quite an effectively strange film. Recommended for mystery fans with a taste for postmodernism, The Vanished Elephant screens again tomorrow (9/8) and next Sunday (9/14) during this year’s TIFF.