This year’s Berlin Film Festival features a sparkling line up. We asked our Artistic Director for Film, Jason Wood, to report back on what’s getting the delegates talking and the little-known gems.
Greetings, from a very cold Berlin! Festivals inevitably bring joy and sorrow. I suffered the latter as I tried but failed to gain entry to the premiere of Werner Herzog’s Queen of the Desert at the Palast. I will have to adopt a Fitzcarraldo type quest to catch it later this week. I’ll be updating this post while I’m out at the festival, look out for new posts over the coming week – Jason.
The Ceremony
A documentary about 84 year-old Catherine Robbe-Grillet, the oldest dominatrix in France, The Ceremony raises some interesting questions about power and sex. Beautifully stylised, it reminded me a little of the work of Bertrand Bonello. It’s most likely one for the festival circuit only.
From Caligari to Hitler
What does cinema know that we don’t? This is the question at the heart of Rüdiger Suchsland’s exceptional documentary about the cinema of Weimar Germany. In 15 years or so of festival going, I would count this as one of my favourite experiences. Taken from Siegfried Kracauer’s seminal book of the same name, this features footage of great works by the likes of G. W. Pabst, F. W. Murnau, Fritz Lang and Ernst Lubitsch, and offers an entertaining and educational trip into a formative period of German cinema and the abyss of German suconsciousness. An exemplary piece of documentary.
Summers Downstairs
This small French/German production proved to be worth a look. A sly attack on bourgeois values set in an opulent summer house, it takes a few wrong steps and isn’t especially fresh, but it does have its moments. The pay off is curiously moving too. It reminded me a little of François Ozon.
Love and Mercy
Director Bill Pohlad’s biography of Brian Wilson is a surprising success. Borrowing elements from Todd Haynes’s I’m Not There (though this is more conventional), it portrays Brian Wilson from the recording of Pet Sounds and Smile through to his breakdown and manipulation by Dr Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti in a wig that would make Phil Spector proud). Wilson is played by two people: a rotund Paul Dano and in later years, John Cusack. Both are exceptional, despite Cusack looking nothing like Wilson at all. The period is beautifully recreated and Mike Love is presented as the uber arsehole he was. Most importantly the sound design is heavenly, with the recording process artfully recreated to remind us of the celestial sounds Wilson created. The script, also excellent, is by Oren Moverman, the director of Rampart. Surf’s Up!
Mr Holmes
Ian McKellen played an ailing James Whale in Bill Condon’s Gods and Monsters and he performs a similar feat here as an ailing Sherlock Holmes racked by memory loss and senility. Laura Linney, of late reduced to manservant-type roles, plays his chilly housekeeper. This is high-end heritage porn, sumptuously produced by the BBC. The quality seeps out of it’s every pore. It’s very watchable, but also a little dull. Audiences will love it and no doubt critics will too. McKellen is certainly very good and there are some nice comments about the chasm between fact and fiction. Personally I didn’t care for it too much, but I will no doubt be in the minority.
The Body
Polish director Malgorzata Szumowska (Elles) crafts a fascinating portrait of grief and eating disorders in this tale of different approaches to the body and soul. Superior to Elles, it has overtones of Kieslowski’s portraits of intertwined lives, but isn’t in the same league.
Diary of a Teenage Girl
One of the most talked about films at Sundance, this is a fleeting admirable portrait of a young woman’s discovery of sex and sexuality in 1970s San Francisco. It’s amusing and the use of animation works well, but it isn’t quite as sensational as it thinks it is and the story feels a bit third hand. Imagine an episode of The Wonder Years via American Splendor. Brownie points for the music though. Any films that features Television’s See No Evil can’t be all bad.
The Pearl Button
The latest film from Chilean director Patricio Guzmán is utterly remarkable. A story about water, it is also the story of Chile and of memory and recounts, with chilling archive photography, the slaughter of native Patagonians by white settlers arriving on the land. There are shots in this film that are so striking that one is moved to believe that cinema, since it’s invention, has been building collectively to this moment. A thrilling work and most likely, a masterpiece.
The Club
Pablo Larraín has an estimable CV and The Club elevates him to true auteur status. The skeletal take of a coastal house for ex-communicated priests, it’s a blackly comic portrait of humankind’s capacity for evil. It’s also a searing indictment of the hypocrisy of religion and the crimes committed in its name. Beautifully shot, the use of Arvo Part is also exceptional (Carlos Reygadas also used Part for Japon). Likely to garner 4 and 5 star reviews, this is a film that is within touching distance of masterpiece status.
Umrika
The winner of the audience award in Sundance, this tale of love and exile between two brothers from a remote Indian village was a little too middle of the road for my tastes. I kept wishing I was in a Satayjit Ray film, so left to try and find one…
Erotica, Erotica, Etc
As ever, some of the most striking images in cinema today can be found in essay films, and such is the case here. Following the lives of sailors toiling in shipping tankers at sea, and the prostitutes who are shipped out to pleasure them, this film from young Greek filmmaker Evangelia Kranioti provided much needed meditative calm. The voiceover strives a little too hard for poignancy, but this is still my most memorable film of the festival so far. Reminiscent of James Benning, the sequence where workers hose down a rusting hull is exhilarating.
La French
It’s Citroen DS heaven in this big budget French variation on The French Connection. Jean Dujardin is the cop battling Marseille drug lords in this period thriller that boats terrific vintage production values (even the pre-credit Gaumont logo is from 1975) but is ultimately a little underwhelming. The film lacks the authenticity and thrills of, say, Mesrine (La French is also based on a real life character, Pierre Michel), and its own invocation of the Gene Hackman original does it few favours. A 1970s Heat would be another apt comparison, with Gilles Lellouche as Dujardin’s criminal adversary. It’s not in the same league as Michael Mann’s cat-and-mouse thriller, but would make for diverting TV fare.
Taxi
That rarity in cinema; a film that’s impossible not to admire. The latest work from Jafar Panahi continues his intelligent, covert filmmaking. Similar in structure to Abbas Kiarostami’s Ten, the film blurs the lines between fiction and documentary through a series of staged set pieces that examine Sharia law, crime, piracy and other pressing issues with verve, intelligence and humour. It’s a delightful work with barb and bite. Atom Egoyan’s Calendar and Orson Welles’ F For Fake are other reference points. The film ends, as is often the case in Iranian cinema, with an act of kindness followed by an act of inhumanity. My only criticism stems from a comment made in the film, that we can rely on people to fund, support and watch good films. I think we lost that battle some time ago. A wonderful film.
Fassbinder: To Love Without Demands
Film historian Christian Braad Thomsen returns to previously unseen interview footage with Rainer Werner Fassbinder, and from it fashions an insightful documentary about one of the most prodigious and influential post-war German directors. The film, liberally illustrated with film sequences and archive photographs, captures Fassbinder’s fierce intellect, passion and capacity for hostility, cruelty and self-destruction. Fassbinder was only 37 when he died and it still feels like his absence has created a vacuum yet to be filled. One can’t imagine a film like this ever being produced by a British writer or critic, and Thomsen is laudably probing in his questioning, while also allowing his obvious respect and appreciation for the director to shine through. This is a great film for festivals and whoever owns the Fassbinder catalogue.
Elser
A return to German history (and form) for Downfall director Oliver Hirschbiegel, Elser tells the tale of a working class carpenter’s attempt to single-handedly assassinate the Fuhrer at a Munich rally. The attempt failed by 13 minutes as Hitler had left the rally when the bomb – built by Elser – exploded. Elser is then systematically tortured in the most brutal way imaginable. The film details how George Elser was a hero of the Resistance, only recognised after his death. This is an accomplished work elevated by a number of spine-tingling moments: a secretary implacably reads a book while a man is savagely tortured; a high-ranking Nazi officer is hung for treason, his corpse twitching like a fish on a hook. Elser should generate positive reviews, and at its heart is a terrific central performance from Christian Friedel.
45 Years
“It’s funny how we forget the things that make us happy.” A line spoken by Charlotte Rampling is at the crux of this beautifully assured drama about an ageing couple celebrating their 45th wedding anniversary, when a rather sizeable skeleton emerges from the closet. Reminiscent of Jon Sanders and Joanna Hogg for its ability to allow the spaces between words to breathe and fester, Andrew Haigh’s follow-up to Weekend is first-rate filmmaking. Rampling and Tom Courtenay are exceptionally well cast. The shot at the end of the film, when disgust flickers across Rampling’s face, is incredible.
Virgin Mountain
I am very fond of the films of Dagur Kari, and Virgin Mountain is a return to form after The Dark Horse. It’s as if someone has made a film about the life of the comic book guy in The Simpsons. A tale of loneliness and disappointment, punctuated by acts of incredibly poignant kindness, this tale of a 43 year-old loner finally offers redemption and the central character’s (who is excellently portrayed by Gunnar Jonsson) escape from his inner stagnation. However, this will be too small for theatrical distribution in the current climate.
Victoria
Sebastian Schipper’s single take drama is an audacious technical achievement of some brilliance. As a film however, it’s like an off-form Gaspar Noé directing La Haine. Shot over the early hours of a Berlin morning, the film observes the beginning, execution and aftermath of a street robbery. As well as its incredible logistical feat, the film’s use of sound and music is also terrific. Still, I can’t help but wish the director had spent less time in the technical aspect and more time creating characters and situations that aren’t just an endless series of clichés. The plucky ingenue, the criminals with a code of ethics, the romance of love on the lam; it’s all here, and completely unedifying too. While Victoria is very marketable, it’s also 140 minutes of my life I will never get back. Give me Russian Ark any day.
Big Father, Small Father and Other Stories
A love story set against the backdrop of tabooed homosexuality and state-sanctioned intrusion into the private sector, this is a gorgeously shot film from Vietnamese Director Phan Dang Di, allows proceedings to develop in unhurried takes, and after the rush and thrust of Victoria this felt like a relaxing vacation. It reminded me very much of Cyclo.
As We Were Dreaming
Set in the Leipzig suburbs just after the collapse of East Germany, Andreas Rosen’s As We Were Dreaming is taken from a best-selling novel, and is a parable about lost youth, friendship and betrayal. Imagine Once Upon A Time in America in horrible flats. The film has a lot of energy but there is little here that hasn’t been seen elsewhere, and the dreams and aspirations of the group of at the centre of the film are a little too clearly signposted.
Snow Pirates
Exploring the harsh conditions of Turkey’s military dictatorship in the 1980s, Faruk Hacıhafızoğlu’s enthralling film is named after a band of teenage Kurdish friends who attempt to extricate coal supplies from the state. A political work that also looks at friendship in the face of oppression, I thought this was a small gem. The language is coarse but otherwise it would be a great piece to engage younger viewers: it’s very approachable and beautiful to look at. In one image, a mountain of coal fills the screen and it is mesmeric. Moreover, the film reminds us that cinema is a truly international language.
And so another Berlinale comes to a close. One of the overriding themes of the festival this year seemed to be German directors returning to the scene of previous triumphs. Werner Herzog and Wim Wenders, a sizeable presence here, both presented new works that were met with tolerance but disappointment. Oliver Hirschbiegel put the travesty of The Invasion behind him with a powerful return to German history in Elser. There were also two strong documentaries on German cinema history, From Caligari to Hitler and Fassbinder: To Love Without Demands.
For me, two films from Chile dominated the festival: The Pearl Button and The Club. I have written about these two films previously, and it was gratifying to see director Pablo Larraín, a powerful presence in recent world cinema, receive the Grand Jury Prize for The Club, a coruscating look at religion and abuse. The jury said they expect to see it become a classic of cinema history. That’s a tall order, but I certainly look forward to opening the film at HOME later this year. Romanian director Radu Jude and Polish director Małgorzata Szumowska shared the Best Director prize for Aferim! and The Body. Personally, I would have liked to have seen the prize go to Patricio Guzmán for The Pearl Button, which is a masterful piece of documentary filmmaking.
Berlin is known for its commitment to political cinema and so it seemed an odd and incongruous choice to present 50 Shades of Grey out of competition. Thankfully, the film failed to detract from the real issue of presenting socially and politically insightful films from across the globe, and this was reflected in the decision to award dissident Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi the Golden Bear for the quite brilliant Taxi. As yet, Taxi is without a UK distributor (UK distribution is a complex issue, tied to the asking price for a film the sales agent feels the film is worth), but hopefully the situation will change. It would be a travesty for this film not to get a full cinema release. Commerce and culture can be very uneasy bedfellows.
Finally, how pleasing to see Tom Courtenay and Charlotte Rampling rewarded with Best Actor and Actress awards for their remarkable performances in Andrew Haigh’s Norfolk-set drama, 45 Years. The film represents something new and exciting in British cinema, and both performers are quietly assured. As a portrait of love in bad faith, the film is utterly devastating. A Salford publisher is responsible for the short story on which the film is based, and we very much hope to present the film as a special screening at HOME. Watch this space.