Just a quick run-down of a couple events happening today:
There's a local film community pow-wow going down this afternoon in Salem on the steps of the capitol building. The Oregon Media Production Association (OMPA) has organized the 4pm event in support of HB 2167, which, if ratified, would increase film incentives to production companies seeking to make films in Oregon.
Winner of the Prix SACD at the 2010 Director's Fortnight at Cannes, Illégal highlights the plight of Tania (Anne Coesens), a woman who has fled Russia with her adolescent son in tow, seeking a better life in Belgium. Their actual experience in this newly adopted homeland is far from ideal, as an overwhelming paranoia about discovery and deportation by the authorities becomes a part of their daily lives. Early on, when the plot takes the expected turn and Tania is caught, she's separated from her son and thrown into a detainment center that resembles nothing less than a prison.
Massat-Depasse makes use of the fictional scenario as an opportunity to frankly discuss the real life treatment of illegal immigrants in contemporary Belgian society. Tania and her fellow inmates undergo extreme physical and mental abuse both within the walls of the holding station and, especially, when forced to participate in repeated "deportation rituals" designed to shake loose a confession from those inmates withholding the basic information required by the government to enact a legal deportation process.
The film's grim story is well supported by the omnipresent gray tones mixed into the color palette of its cinematography. The overall look of the film is a bit washed out but that, along with the use of hand held cameras throughout, helps forward the notion that we're peering into a reality lived by the dispossessed around the world, since the narrative is easily transposed to multiple nations whose actions surrounding illegal immigration are dubious at best.
As much as this sounds like an intellectual exercise on the part of the filmmakers, Coesens' powerfully nuanced performance as Tania is what keeps the movie from flying off the tracks and devolving into a formulaic message piece. Watching as Tania agonizingly yearns for a reunion with her son, despite full knowledge of all the obstacles conspiring to keep that from occurring, is to witness a performance so grounded in character and realistic motivation that it actually inspires a belief in the viewer that, if sheer will were enough, Tania just might overcome her circumstances.
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Hey folks, we here at The Rain Falls Down on Portlandtown just figured out that a lot of people are excited about this thing called Facebook. We're not positive but we think it might be a bar located deep in cyberspace. At any rate, the blog now has its own Facebook page, located here. Drop on by anytime for updates on postings, ridiculous conversations, etc.
Here's a quick rundown of some film related events going down this weekend in PDX:
--day four of POWFest is happening right now at the Hollywood Theatre. Our brief coverage of the Portland Oregon Women's Film Festival can be accessed right here.
--PSU's student run 5th Avenue Cinema is featuring the Czech New Wave classic Daisies (1966) for another two days.
--The Clinton Street Theater is hosting Orgasm Inc., a new documentary about the pharmaceutical companies' push to create a female-centric version of Viagra.
Those are but a few of the options available for adventurous cinema geeks in Portland this weekend. Remember to find us on Facebook and to keep a lookout for future updates. Bye for now...
The 2011 edition of the Portland Oregon Women's Film Festival begins its five-day run on the big screen at the historic Hollywood Theatre tomorrow night (3/9). At which time, things will get off to a fine start with the Portland debut of Rolla Selbak's new drama Three Veils. Selbak will be in attendance for the screening, which will be followed by a Q&A.
The biggest event of this year's fest occurs on Friday night when POWFest's "Guest of Honor" Gillian Armstrong rolls into town. The award-winning Australian director of My Brilliant Career and Oscar and Lucinda brings with her a new documentary, Love, Lust & Lies, the fifth film in a series chronologically observing the lives of three women. And, yes, Armstrong will be around to participate in a post-screening Q&A.
Saturday is by far the most packed day on the schedule, featuring three separate short film programs, a couple of short-form documentaries and Briar March's documentary about the effects of global warming on the Pacific island of Takuu, There Once Was an Island.
That's an awful lot of content to choose from over a relatively short period of time, so those looking to sort it out further should immediately take a dip into the official POWFest website for info on show times, ticket prices, workshops and more!
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With his latest film, Nostalgia for the Light, Chilean director Patricio Guzmán (The Battle of Chile) achieves a near-impossible feat in documentary film. He's produced a philosophically rich work that makes palpable connections between the Earth and sky alongside the historical and the theoretical, spanning both time and emotional space.
Opening with a focus on the Atacama Desert's uniquely immaculate conditions for astronomical observation, it's not long before Guzmán is able to weave between this scientific discipline's engagement with the past (as in light seen from the Earth long after it's emanated from the cosmos) and the personal and political turmoil that still lingers long after the brutal reign of Augusto Pinochet.
To this end, Guzmán juxtaposes his interviews with astronomers against conversations with women who still comb the desert in search of their disappeared men, lost to the assassinations of the Pinochet era. The comparison works well since, in addition to the established temporal concerns of these speakers, the complete lack of humidity in the Atacama Desert--preserving the bodies of the dead while simultaneously providing a prime opportunity to gaze upon celestial bodies--is the common thread that enables both quests.
The entire film boils down to a single provocative statement made by one of Guzmán's subjects: there is no present. And for the people being documented here, it's a truth that hard to deny. Like all of us, they are wrapped up in an ongoing evaluation of moments that have already drifted past our constantly unfolding futures.
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This feature-length collection of shorts by some of the best and emerging talents of the contemporary Mexican film scene is unified in a couple of ways. One of its directors, Amat Escalante (Los Bastardos), who was on-hand for a Q&A at the Saturday afternoon PIFF screening, divulged that each person invited to make a short was asked by the producers to reflect upon the 100th anniversary of the Mexican Revolution via a piece set in modern times. Beyond that slight imposition, there's also a notable thematic harmony brandished within several of the individual works that questions what lasting progress exists as a result of the revolution, as evidenced through the many nods to globalization and marketing in both public spaces and private lives.
For instance, Escalante's haunting piece, The Hanging Priest, concludes its action in a McDonald's restaurant. While Rodrigo García's (Mother and Child) 7th and Alvarado places Pancho Villa and his men in downtown Los Angeles, surrounded by a dense modern environment packed with commercial signifiers. And Mariana Chenillo's (Nora's Will) The Estate Store, inspired by an article she read in a local newspaper, exhibits the abuses visited upon common workers trapped in a type of wage slavery common in pre-revolutionary times.
Other shorts, like Carlos Reygadas' (Silent Light) This is My Kingdom and Gerardo Narango's (I'm Gonna Explode) R-100 go so far as to create revolution respectively via a juxtaposition of class and character situations based in desperation. (Note: the clip below contains Reygadas' film in its entirety.)
All in all, like many short film collections based in shared concepts, Revolución is somewhat of a mixed bag. Reygadas', Garcia's and Escalante's contributions come to mind as being the strongest of the ten films. But even the weakest of the bunch have elements worth recommending.
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What to say about a horror movie starring a tire? Unsurprisingly, Quentin Dupieux'sRubber was one of the most unique films showcased at this year's Portland International Film Festival, even among those relegated to the late-night PIFF After Dark screenings. Despite a completely packed house at the Hollywood Theatre, it was a good call to schedule the film as a part of the newly minted after hours series, especially since it might not have had the same draw without the blessing of local Grindhouse Film Festival overlord Dan Halsted (who programmed all the PIFF After Dark features).
As for the movie itself, it upended all my expectations of just being a slightly more wacky take on the tried and true splattercore genre. Instead of riding that old pony to town, Rubber takes a decidedly more conceptual route, fixing its sights on nothing less than a playful examination of the act of observation. The killer tire of the title ends up being really no more than a sideshow act to the ideas explored by Dupieux and his cast, which pits an in-film audience (watching the movie via binoculars) against the participants of the main narrative. Those players acting out the narrative--tracking down the tire as it rolls from one corpse to its next victim--desperately want to rid themselves of the audience, 'cause without those eyes watching them they can just relax and go home.
Yes, it is super-meta material for a genre film. And by the end of the movie, the concept has been stretched a little thin. Still, Rubber rises above the standard horror fare through its dogged resistance to categorization and the reliance upon ideas rather than just cheap thrills. Plus, it's wicked fun to see with an audience.
Hopefully, it'll make its way back to a screen in PDX soon, especially since I get the feeling that it just might connect with the same adventurous audiences that came out for last year's week long run of Hausu at Cinema 21.
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