Sydney Film Festival: Day 7

Five fucking films. Five of them! Due to an abundance of spare tickets, Day 7 was deemed random shit day, where a bunch of films I knew little-to-nothing about were picked. That’s sometimes where one finds gold at a festival. Sometimes it isn’t.

That covered four of the films. The fifth was a last minute addition: realising that the two hour break in the day coincided with the only time any of my friends would be actually in a movie, I decided to try to get a ticket, even though it had been sold out. That movie was Coraline, and there was a spare ticket: thank you, whoever overbooked! Then, the realization. Five fucking movies.

Let’s start with the ones I didn’t make it through. This shit’s all out of order; I’m Tarantinoing it here.

Parque Via (Film Two)

This is one of those films where a person (often elderly, as is the case here) wanders around doing nothing, while the filmmaker tries to rely on their presence alone to warrant the existence of the film, and its reason for being in front of an audience. Here, it actually works to some extent. Nolberto Coria (a non actor, of course) does somehow carry the film while doing not much. He wanders around a sprawling mansion, to be occasionally visited by a prostitute (you see her pubes, that means it’s arty), but largely doing mundane tasks. This is somehow not quite tear-your-eyes-out dull. It’s not thrill-a-minute, but oddly watchable.

But I was hungry, and didn’t have any other time in which to hunt and gather. Sorry, Parque Via. Apparently it kicks into gear in act three. DVD, ahoy!

Everyone Else (Film Five)

Everyone Else, written and directed by Maren Ade, is another fine film. It concerns a young German couple, Gitti (Birgit Minichmayr) and Chris (Lars Eidinger), on their holiday, staying in Chris’s married-with-children sister’s unoccupied house. Focused on small moments and quiet lies, it’s an interesting look at the couple’s avoidance to become like the everyone else of the title. Minichmayr and Eidinger are both great in their roles; Minichmayr brings a particular life to things.

But it was late; Coraline’s 3D glasses made things a tad headachey; the late-running of Coraline, as well, meant a bad seat, right at the front – neck strain! – so Everyone Else became another casualty. A shame; it deserved better treatment.

And back to the start.

Tony Manero (Film One)

Raúl (Alfredo Castro) in his fifties and living under Pinochet in Chile. It is the late seventies, and he is obsessed with Saturday Night Fever. The film begins with Raúl entering a lookalike contest for John Travolta’s character in that film: Tony Manero. He also choreographs and dances with a small group, including his sometimes-girlfriend and her daughter, at a ratty bar, and occasionally dabbles in unexpected and horrific acts of violence, usually to help further himself in his quest to become Manero.

So it’s an odd film, but a fascinating one. The reign of Pinochet is ever-present but for most of the film kept to the outskirts. The focus of the film, and it’s main character, is on a disposable piece of American pop-culture: this is a clear commentary on America’s help to Pinochet at the time. Intellectually, then, there’s definitely a lot going on; entertainment-wise, the film can be a bit distancing and slow moving, but is difficult to pull away from. It would probably work better for a viewer with understanding of Chile’s recent history, but is engaging for those willing to be patient with it.

7/10

The Beaches of Agnes (Film Three)

Agnes Varda: we meet again. After The Gleaners and I, her well-regarded but annoying and pretentious documentary, we’ve not had the best relationship. So a film both by and about her, won’t be my best friend. And this documentary could be accused of being self-indulgent, but with the life Varda has led – before and after she started being a filmmaker – you can’t begrudge her this. As well as jumping, often out-of-order, through her life, the film allows her to exhibit her various filmic fascinations; odd framing, what happens outside the frame, and so-on. Varda made the film after turning eighty, and she still makes a lively and funny (and sometimes heartbreaking) screen presence and storyteller.

8/10

Then, the battle. Coraline was having its Australian premiere; a red carpet event with Teri Hatcher present. There had been a red carpet event earlier in the festival – for the Australian film Cedar Boys – but that was a sadder affair; the carpet ran about three metres in length tucked away at the back of Greater Union’s lobby, it was roped off but not security was needed. It was more of a red rug affair, really. This was a little bigger, with about two metres of the lobby allocated for thoroughfare. With the gawkers wanting to catch a glimpse of the Desperate Housewives star (people still watch it – I was shocked too!) that gave a path of about half an inch wide for people who just wanted to get to their damn movie.

Coraline (Film Four)

The much-loved Nightmare Before Christmas, despite being more associated with Tim Burton, was actually directed by Henry Selick. His latest has him tackling the ideas of another cult hero: Neil Gaiman. Both films are striking in their style, and both have rather simple stories. But while Nightmare was tiresome with uninspiring songs, Coraline is a delight, in its visuals, humour, music and characterisation.

Coraline (Dakota Fanning) is the daughter of a pair of garden book writers who have just moved across the country to a large house made up of three apartments, the other two inhabited by strange, deluded folks. Her parents (voiced by Teri Hatcher and John Hodgeman) are caring but busy; this coupled with her mother’s tendency towards impatience makes them, in Coraline’s eyes, neglectful. Coraline discovers a small passage in the house that leads to another version of her world; a world where Coraline gets everything she wants, where her parents are devoted, where everything is magical, including her neighbours, and everyone has buttons for eyes.

The story is simplistic, yes: another Alice in Wonderland coupled with mother-issues tale from Gaiman. It’s handled with swiftness, fun and enough horror and creepiness (for a children’s film, at least) to make it entertaining. But it is the visuals which lift the film: this is perhaps the most gorgeous stop-motion film to hit cinemas, and such a feast for the eyes that the story almost doesn’t matter. Almost. The 3D – although the glasses are annoying – improves these visuals even more, even if an occasional break is needed. Outside of Pixar’s stable, this might be the best American animated film in years.

8/10

Lessons Learned

• I can’t do five movies in a day. I’m not the man I was in 2006.
• The Nightmare Before Christmas was, in that case, all Tim Burton’s fault.