Tokyo International Film Festival Tokyo International Film Festival from IndieWire en en Robert Zemeckis' 'The Walk' Will Open the 28th Tokyo International Film Festival <a class="" href="" title="Link:">READ MORE:&nbsp;Watch: Joseph Gordon-Levitt is a 'Man on Wire' in Thrilling 'The Walk' Trailer</a><div>The 28th Tokyo International Film Festival held a press conference today to announce this year's festival venues, Jury President and opening and closing films. Bryan Singer (&quot;The Usual Suspects,&quot; &quot;X-Men&quot;) has been selected as this year's Jury President, joining a list of respected filmmakers who have served at previous festivals.&nbsp;<br /><br />The festival will open with Robert Zemeckis' drama &quot;The Walk,&quot; starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Philippe Petit, and will close with Japanese director Tetsuo Shinohara's film &quot;Terminal,&quot; starring Koichi Sato (&quot;When the Last Sword is Drawn&quot;).&nbsp;<br /><br />Additionally, directors Isao Yukisada, Sotho Kulikar and Brillante Mendoza announced the outline of their omnibus film project, &quot;Asian Three-Fold Mirror.&quot; The three directors will be filming in various Asian countries and will premiere their completed project at next year's 29th TIFF. &quot;Asian Three-Fold Mirror&quot; is also planning to screen at film festivals around the world and get a nationwide release in Japan.&nbsp;<br /><br /><a class="" href="" title="Link:">READ MORE:&nbsp;Robert Zemeckis' 'The Walk' to Open the 53rd New York Film Festival</a></div> Tue, 28 Jul 2015 14:19:35 GMT Sarah Choi 2015-07-28T14:19:35Z Interview: Josh & Benny Safdie Talk ‘Heaven Knows What,’ The Drug Of Drama And More <i>Editor's Note: This interview originally ran November 2014 during the Tokyo Film Festival.</i><br /><br />When we met <b>Josh </b>and<b> Benny Safdie</b> in a plush bar in Tokyo’s Roppongi Hills (it’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it) they were fresh off the stage having just picked up not only the Grand Prix of the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival</b> 2014 for “<b>Heaven Knows What</b>,” (<a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">review here</a>) but also the Best Director gong too. (This meant that, happily, as we discuss below, in addition to other prizes, they got two fancy watches from sponsor Seiko and didn’t have to work out how to divvy up just the one). The two have worked together on and off, but mostly on, for nearly a decade. Their first co-directed feature was 2009's “<b>Daddy Longlegs</b>,” and since then they’ve become well-known on the festival arthouse circuit, mostly with a series of short films.<br /><br /> “<b>Heaven Knows What</b>” marks their first narrative feature together since “Daddy Longlegs,” however, they also collaborated on 2013 doc &quot;<b>Lenny Cooke</b>,&quot; which <a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">our <b>Tribeca</b> reviewer loved</a>. &quot;Heaven Knows What&quot; is a gritty yet lyrical look at a group of homeless heroin addicts on the streets of New York and was based on the experiences of its lead, <b>Arielle Holmes</b>, whom the brothers spotted by chance on a subway platform. We talked with them in Tokyo about the film, its relationship to Japan, its extraordinary soundtrack, and the practical issues that being a fraternal directing duo can lead to, issues they've discovered they share with the <b>Dardennes</b>.<br /><br /><a class="" title="Link: null" href="">READ MORE: Watch Electric New Trailer For Josh And Bennie Safdie's Award-Winning 'Heaven Knows What'</a><br /><br /> <b>So, your first time to Tokyo?</b><br /><b>Josh: </b>Actually second. I came here to shoot my one and only music video, for <b>Shugo Tokumaru</b>&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;it didn’t work out, but the footage is amazing… it’s a long time ago, like 8 years ago.<br /><br /> <b>And coincidentally you use a Japanese composer’s music in this film&nbsp;</b><span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span><b>&nbsp;even&nbsp;James Gunn in his award speech mentioned the music, calling it “disruptive and shameless… in all the best best ways”</b><br />Yeah, <b>Tomita</b>. He’s like the <b>Mozart</b> of Japan. <br /><br /> <b>His stuff is great, I was listening to him as I wrote about the film.</b><br /> I saw that in your review! I don’t really read reviews, because I get self-conscious and my first film got really weird reviews. And when I say weird I mean… panned, and I hated that feeling and never wanted to feel it again, but I saw that you liked it, and I saw you had that “it’s all up in my Spotify.” I really want Tomita to hear that someday. <br /><br /> <b>So tell me what this award means to you.</b><br /> <b>Benny:</b> It’s definitely a huge honor to get such a big award. And especially two of them [the Safdies also won Best Director] … it’s crazy. <br /> This way they had to give us two watches. And for a while it was just one&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;we did a talk with the <b>Dardenne</b> brothers and we had similar issues, like hotel room issues. So the next time I email them I’ll be like, you ever gotten a watch [to split between you]? How do you deal with that? 12 hour shifts?<br /><br /> <b>What are the hotel issues?</b><br />Oh it’s like, same room? Two beds? Two rooms? At some point you get to the stage where you get two separate rooms. <br /><br /><br /> <b>But then there’s the problem that one is better than the other?</b><br /><b>Josh:</b> Sometimes one of you gets the view. [Benny] has a view this time. I have no view. <br /><br /> <b>But back to the award...</b><br /><b>Benny:</b> Well, especially here in Tokyo we were talking about how much we felt this country would respond to it.<br /><br /><b> Josh:</b> My friend <b>Maiko Endo</b>&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;she’s a filmmaker who used to live in New York and got very unjustly banned from America&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;I don’t get to&nbsp;see her much. And so I said, “I’m coming to Tokyo!” And she said, “I had a dream” — she’s very clairvoyant — “I had a dream you were gonna win the Grand Prize.” And when she says that, you listen. <br /><br /> Like we went to Mount Fuji today and she drove us and the clouds are completely covering the sky and I’m, “Where is Mount Fuji? Where is Mount Fuji?” and she’s “There it is!” And the clouds dispersed for five seconds, and then went back, and then the festival rang and were like, “You have to come back here right now.”<br /><br /> <b>So she’s basically like a freaky rainmaker type person?</b><br /><b>Josh:</b>&nbsp;And a great filmmaker: “<b>Kuichisan</b>” was her last film. But you know, our cinematographer<b> Sean [Price] Williams</b>, he’s a Japanophile, he shot “Kuichisan” here, he shot “<b>Beetle Queen Conquers Tokyo</b>.&quot; [<b>Chris Marker’</b>s] “<b>Sans Soleil</b>”&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;I know he loves that film&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;is&nbsp;an&nbsp;example, there’s just a fanaticism and an extremism to Japanese movies. We showed one of our short films with <b>Sion Sono</b>’s “<b>Cold Fish</b>” at <b>Venice</b> in 2010 and with him too, there’s just an extreme admiration for all things human. <br /><br /> We went to a caf&eacute; here where they have a custom hi-fi set up. They play <b>Bach</b> music and you just sit there and you don’t say anything&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;if&nbsp;you talk to somebody that’s a violation against your human rights. There’s an extremism to everything, they appreciate every single little thing, there’s a store for this, for that, a shrine for this, for that.<br /><br /> <b>Benny: </b>Like there’s a cat caf&eacute;. At first you think it’s funny and interesting but then there’s that thought for other people, who can’t have a pet in their building, so they can go there and pet a cat and experience that... and then on the other end you can go to the 6th floor and witness the most insane boxing match. <br /><br /> <b>Josh:</b> This is an obsessive culture and ours is an obsessive movie. Also drugs are really,&nbsp;<i>really</i> illegal here, so the Japanese are really curious. I had to jump through hoops to get an aspirin. <br /><br /> But, like, the music of Tomita, he took <b>Debussy</b>, one of the most romantic composers of all time, and interpreted the way that he did&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;that’s extreme. It’s visceral and visionary, he turned it into Sturm und Drang somehow, I don’t know how he did it. <br /><br /> <b>He turned Debussy into Wagner.</b><br /> way of Mars.<br /><br /> <b>It lends drama. And the way the drama happens in the film is interesting, so moment to moment.</b><br /> <b>Benny:</b>&nbsp;Thing is, if you’re given context to a certain argument or situation, that kinds of eliminates some of the drama and some of the confusion. Here you’re seeing it as you would see it one the street, and you have to be as fast as possible to pick up everything&nbsp;<span id="docs-internal-guid-b0e8a83d-a0b3-8325-a912-7c982847d356">—</span>&nbsp;to pick up peoples’ mannerisms, what they’re saying, are they telling the&nbsp;truth, are they lying, who should I trust? There’s a lot of stuff going on there and we just wanted to replicate that. And we just wanted it to move like a rocket.<br /><br /> <b>Josh:</b> And drama is a drug. Drama is one of the the greatest escapes that we have, that’s why I always equated it to a drug. Sometimes it can be an unhealthy one.<br /><br /> It’s like our grandmother’s friend said: these are characters of no past and no future. And when you only have the now, what do you do with that? You’re just trying to create meaning, create future, create past, and that’s drama.<br /><br /> <b>There’s a definite sense in the film that tomorrow will never come, it might as well not exist.</b><br /> <b>Josh:</b>&nbsp;That's addiction. Theres no such thing as tomorrow. In fact maybe a good title would have been “<b>Tomorrow is Dead</b>.” Do you know what the title is here in Japanese? “<b>Fuck You God</b>.”<br /><br /> <b>Wow, maybe you should change the U.S. title to that… </b><br /> <b>Benny:</b> We’re thinking about it, but I don’t like titles with asterisks in them.<br /><br /> <b>Hmm, “Darn You, God”?</b><br /> <b>Both:</b> Ha! No. <br /><br /><i>&quot;Heaven Knows What&quot; lands in New York and L.A. theaters this weekend, starting May 29th.</i> <iframe width="100%" height="450" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src=";auto_play=false&amp;hide_related=false&amp;show_comments=true&amp;show_user=true&amp;show_reposts=false&amp;visual=true"></iframe> Fri, 29 May 2015 17:13:00 GMT Jessica Kiang 2015-05-29T17:13:00Z Interview: Arielle Holmes & Caleb Landry Jones Talk Drugs, Drama & Making 'Heaven Knows What' The <b>Tokyo International Film Festival </b>ended with a Grand Prix win for <b>Josh </b>and<b> Benny Safdie</b>’s “<b>Heaven Knows What</b>,” which, pleasingly, was also <a class="" title="Link: null" href="" target="_blank">our favorite film from the competition</a>. It happened to be the only U.S. film in the field (we discussed the reasons for its selection <a class="" title="Link: null" href="" target="_blank">with Jury President </a><b><a class="" title="Link: null" href="" target="_blank">James Gunn</a></b><a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:"> here</a>) and features as probably its most buzz-worthy element, a breakout debut performance from <b>Arielle Holmes. </b>Mere months before filming started, she was living rough on the streets of New York City, a heroin addict involved in tempestuous relationship very similar to that we see documented in the film.<br /><br /> That’s because Holmes is not merely a nice bit of street casting for a pre-existing role, the film is based on her experiences. The Safdies, having approached her to potentially feature in a different project, gradually became more fascinated by her story, encouraging her to write it down (while getting clean), and then used those memoirs as the basis for their film. It’s a pretty wild rags-to-riches story (though by “riches” it should be noted we’re talking in relative terms<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-bfcf-d030-c8f1-bfe3e7e20970">—</span>this is a tiny, micro-budget indie after all), and we were very happy to talk about it with her in Tokyo, along with her co-star <b>Caleb Landry Jones</b>, who takes the smaller but crucial and charismatic role of her boyfriend Ilya. <br /><br /> <b>So Arielle, I hear you’ve just signed with ICM, congratulations. So you’re officially pursuing an acting career long-term?</b><br />Yeah, I’ve already got a couple movies coming up I’m gonna do. I don’t know if I’m allowed talk about them…<br /><br /> <b>But are they on a similar kind of independent scale to this one?</b><br /> Well, the third film is an independent but this next one that I’m gonna do first is not. It’s a science fiction movie. I mean, I don’t <i>know</i>, [“Heaven Knows What”] is the only film I’ve ever done, but it seems like a really fun role to play. It’s the lead female, a soldier, from the year 2307. [Holmes later mentions that the film is called “<b>A Winter’s Dream,</b>” but we cant find much news about it yet].<br /><br /> <b>So you feel excited at the prospect of channelling roles that aren’t necessarily based on your own personal experience?</b><br />Yeah! Yeah, of course.<br /><br /><b>Because it’s a pretty unusual story, I mean, where do you think you’d be if Josh and Benny hadn’t spotted you on that train platform?</b><br />Same place I was, I think. Like in the movie, probably.<br /><br /> <b>Right, because none of this is so very long ago for you. Surely reenacting scenes from your recent past was pretty surreal?</b><br /> I had fun doing it and it felt all very natural and it was exciting, but Josh said to me “Ari, do you remember the time we started filming and you said, ‘This feels like a dream?' ” and so I guess some of it was surreal. That is was happening at all was surreal. <br /><br /> <b>And the finished film has something of a dreamlike quality. Did it turn out as you had envisaged it?</b><br />Originally we had a different ending, we had to change it because [in one of the closing scenes] I actually broke the bus window [and wasn’t supposed to]. So we changed the end, but I think all that happening was a good thing because it led us to an ending I think is perfect and everything ties in really well. The rest of it I had no idea how it was gonna come out, but I’m very happy with how it did. <br /><br /> <b>How about you, Caleb, did the film meet your expectations? Did you have any expectations?</b><br /><b>Caleb Landry Jones:</b> I didn’t really know what to expect. I hadn’t seen any of their films before. I knew we were shooting from far away, but that was it. <br /><br /> <b>So they used long lenses and stood way back from the action?</b><br />They were always at least a block away all the times. Even the close ups were filmed from across the street.<br /><br /> <b>Perhaps they’d just gone for coffee.</b><br /> <b>CLJ:</b> Ha! They hadn’t but they could have and we would not have known and just played the scene anyways.<br /><br /><b> AH:</b> They probably did a couple of times, they were like, “Hey yeah, we need this one more time” and then they just went off…<br /><br /><b>It’s an unusual way to work, did you find it helpful in creating a rapport with your fellow actors that the crew were not in on top of you?</b><br /><b>CLJ:</b> I feel like you gotta do that to some extent anyway, you gotta leave them where they are but at the same time be aware of them. But what made it so different was working with real people who were playing themselves. The world was sort of our stage and so we got to interact with evereyone who was passing by at that precise moment, that’s what made it so different. And [indicates Arielle]<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-bfcf-d030-c8f1-bfe3e7e20970">—</span>what she brought to this movie. Which was everything. I’ve never done anything like this before.<br /><br /><b>You’ve had a pretty big year, several big films, what kind of production do you feel most comfortable in?</b><br /><b>CLJ:&nbsp;</b>I feel like with smaller productions there’s more of an opportunity to get away with things that a union might not get away with. That gives you a freedom and it also gives you, what’s the word, it puts a web around you at the same time. You’ve got more restrictions because of lack of money. But in that way it’s very freeing and because it’s independent there’s not so much pressure on making 200 million dollars and so you can breathe and it can take on a life of its own.<br /><br /> <b>So how did you get involved with this one?</b><br /><b>CLJ: </b>They sent me some of her writings. How many pages would you say? <br /><br /> <b>AH:</b> Probably 20 or 25.<br /><br /> <b>CLJ: </b>Something like that<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-bfcf-d030-c8f1-bfe3e7e20970">—</span>just moments, and some ended up in the movie and some didn’t, but that gave me a sense of who this character was. But I didn’t take it very seriously at first because I didn’t know anything about them, but my agent told me that they were very, very talented, and to do it. But I was still very scared. Then after speaking with Josh on the phone, it seemed like I<i> had</i> to do it, and you’d be stupid not to, because it meant getting to do things that you might never be allowed to do again. And it’s true, and we did a <i>whole </i>lot of things you don’t get to do normally.<br /><br /> <b>Arielle, did you have much say over the casting of the Ilya character being as he is a real person and really a part of your life?</b><br />Well, Josh showed me two pictures: one of [Caleb] and one of this other kid. They wound up picking him and I got along with him, and so I didn’t have any reservations. But I didn’t have much of an opinion based on a picture. And I hadn’t seen any of his movies, I had no idea who he was.<br /><br /> <b>CLJ:</b> So it was pretty perfect in that sense. You had no conceptions of me and the only conceptions I had of her was through her diaries. I think that was very good. And our relationship was slow, it started off slow. [The real] Ilya and I, we got together instantly and and I’d only see her every now and then. Then we’d slowly start to talk more and something was created from that. <br /><br /> <b>So hanging out with the real Ilya was your research, I guess?</b><br /><b>CLJ: </b>Oh yeah, we were inseparable for the most part. I’m so thankful that we liked each other. He thought I was gonna kill him at first though. We thought day one that we were gonna get into it.<br /><br /><b>AH: </b>What? Really?<br /><br /> <b>CLJ: </b>I thought that he was gonna be very upset with me just for coming in, and, like, playing him.<br /><br /> <b>AH:</b> I don’t think he was upset about that<br /><br /> <b>CLJ:</b> No, no, I was worried that he’d be upset. Because I’d be upset, if someone’s coming in… I’d be like, “Woooah, <i>my </i>girl? What? <i>What</i> are you gonna be doing?” I would not know how to take that so I thought we’d end up getting into some kind of row. But we ended up getting drunk instead. <br /><br /> <b>Was it ever awkward that your co-star knew your character so well?</b><br />If anything it was helpful, because I could ask her anything. And she could go “No, no Caleb, that’s not Ilya enough.” Or, “Caleb, he wouldn’t do that.” And I’d get upset because I think that’s my right, but then it worked well, because we would get angry at each other.<br /><br /> <b>You do have a very adversarial relationship in the film. Did it feel real to you, Arielle?</b><br /> <b>AH: </b>It was pretty close. Pretty damn close. I mean a couple times during filming he got reactions out of me that only Ilya could get out of me before. Just very subtle things in certain situations, I thought it was amazing that that happened. <br /><br /> <b>And you were basically reliving often painful moments that had happened not long before.</b><br /><b>AH:</b> I mean, most of those things that happened were in the past<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-bfcf-d030-c8f1-bfe3e7e20970">—</span>not the far past, but to me they were. But I’ve been told I have a strange conception of time. <br /><br /> <b>CLJ:</b> Though I gotta say a day in the life of Ilya and Harley and everybody<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-bfcf-d030-c8f1-bfe3e7e20970">—</span>one day feels like about a week. It’s packed with so much. <br /><br /><b> AH:</b> Yeah, because so much happens<br /><br /> <b>CLJ:</b> And a week feels like several months.<br /><br /> <b>That’s something the film communicates very well, this weird elastic time where overall there’s not some massive arc of change, but moment to moment it’s full of drama.</b><br /><b>AH:</b> And it’s interesting that in the movie but also in the writing I express a lot how I can’t handle repetition. I remember Josh pointing out to me once, “It’s funny that you say that because you were living repetition every day, the same thing, the hustles to get drugs.” But even though that’s true, the days were just packed with so much drama, that it was different everyday. Because everything was in the moment, everything was happening like that. <br /><br /> <b>CLJ: </b>And the shoot was like that. Something was always happening. I’d leave them and then Ilya and I would get into trouble somewhere else. <br /><br /> <b>It certainly feels very loose and energetic. How tightly scripted was it?</b><br /><b>AH: </b>The script was more a guideline to what was supposed to happen here and there. That was scheduled, every day we’d meet usually 8 in the morning. And sometimes we’d film till 5pm, sometimes, till 4am. <br /><br /> <b>CLJ: </b>Maybe I was just too drunk sometimes, but I remember not knowing necessarily what we were gonna do that day. Although I was also in and out more [than Arielle]. It was a chaotic shoot, except then at the same time [the directors] knew exactly where they wanted the camera to be and how they wanted this scene to be. <br /><br /> <b>Caleb you’ve a couple movies coming up too, right? </b><br />I need to ask Siri, I have no idea. I think Arielle’s got more work lined up than I do. But [<b>Roland Emmerich</b>'s] “<b>Stonewall,</b>” I just finished that one a couple months ago, and then I did this other film that’s untitled right now by <b>Gerardo Naranjo</b>. It’s about a girl that gets obsessed with this band and comes to find out who she is, finds out they’re all assholes who are using her for this and that. It’s… interesting. <br /><br /> <b>Have you seen Naranjo’s “Miss Bala”?</b><br />Yes, that was why… He’s got like a cat-and-mouse kind of game, he knows very well his drama mix, I really really like that<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-bfcf-d030-c8f1-bfe3e7e20970">—</span>that’s why I wanted to work with him so bad. The first fifteen minutes of that film are fucking beautiful and then there’s that cat-and-mouse element, and that’s what this film does.<br /><br /> <b>And your character?</b><br />I’m, well, I’m the main asshole. Like in this, though, I come in and out. <br /><br /> <b>Finally, Arielle, how do you think this highly singular experience will color your future acting career?</b><br /><b>AH:</b> I’m excited to try new things, it doesn’t phase me. But I’m pretty sure that no other movie I do is gonna be like this one. <br /><br /> <i>Radius has picked up “Heaven Knows What” for U.S. distribution. </i><br /> Mon, 17 Nov 2014 22:05:00 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-11-17T22:05:00Z Tokyo Review Roundup: Spirit Of Asia Winner 'The Last Reel' & The Christopher Doyle-Shot 'Ruined Heart' “<b>The Last Reel</b>”<br /> The debut film from Cambodian director <b>Sotho Kulikar,</b> “<b>The Last Reel</b>” starts shakily but adds nuance and layers as it progresses to become affecting and gripping by its closing section, something noted by the committee who gave it the “Spirit of Asia” award at the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival</b>. This is the second Cambodian film that we know of to use the history of the country’s pop cultural/filmmaking past to comment on both the devastation wrought by the Khmer Rouge, and the cathartic power of storytelling. The widely lauded documentary/personal history “<b>The Missing Picture</b>” (<a href="" title="Link:">review here</a>) is the other picture, while the documentary “<b>Don’t Think I’ve Forgotten</b>,” which plays at this year’s stacked <b>DOC NYC</b> fest and investigates the country’s relationship with rock ‘n’ roll, looks set to be a third entry into this mini-subgenre (and our attention was drawn to another -- &quot;<b>Golden Slumbers</b>&quot; <a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">reviewed here</a>). But “The Last Reel,” though heavily autobiographical, is not a documentary, and the unmistakably personal nature of its story allows it to become, by its close a passionate cri de coeur, and a lamentation for a period of cruelty and perverted ideology that scars, perhaps even maims, the collective Cambodian memory. <br /><br /> As simple fiction, the film flounders a little, especially initially when we are expected to invest in the rather empty-headed star cross’d romance between a young Cambodian girl and her no-good gang affiliated boyfriend. The snapshot it gives of current Cambodian attitudes to gender relations and familial duty is interesting, but the tale is an overfamiliar one, and the filmmaking, never terribly sophisticated, doesn’t give us much reason to suspect just what a stunning story Kulikar has up her sleeve. In fact, if it were our business to do so, we’d strongly urge her to make substantial cuts to this portion<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-a5a3-d5a0-705b-e8c78983ba0c">—</span>essentially, she buries her fascinating lede under some not terribly interesting filler. And throughout the rest of the film, she only occasionally manages a true synthesis of the real story with the rather melodramatic turns the fictional overlay takes. <br /><br /> But no matter, because the real story that emerges, somehow all the more evocative for being told in glimpses, builds into a desperately moving, and surprising tale. A married, fragile ex-movie star, her overbearing husband, and the owner of the dilapidated cinema who pines for her, become entangled in a young girl’s desire to reshoot an ending to a currently unfinished film, and soon the secrets all three hide as to their roles and actions during the terror come to light. More about story than style, “The Last Reel” relates a personal, cross-generational tale of love and hate to the loss of cultural heritage and identity that occurred when Khmer Rouge outlawed moviemaking and destroyed a thriving national industry, and if only in its own last reel, it has both educational and deeply emotional impact. [B]<br /><br /> “<b>Ruined Heart: Another Love Story Between A Criminal And A Whore</b>”<br /> During one of the most <a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">entertainingly batshit interviews</a>&nbsp;your humble correspondent has ever, well, “conducted” seems the wrong word, maybe “hung on for dear life and tried not to get thrown off” is closer, name-brand cinematographer <b>Christopher Doyle</b> spoke passionately, and occasionally incoherently, in defense of non-narrative film. And the film he was promoting at the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival&nbsp;</b>was “<b>Ruined Heart</b>” from Filipino post-punk director <b>Khavn</b>. <br /><br /> Starring immensely hip Japanese hearthrob <b>Asano</b> (whom you might know from “<b>Ichi the Killer</b>” or “<b>Zatoichi</b>” or Hollywood forays “<b>Thor,</b>” “<b>47 Ronin</b>,” and <b>“Battleship</b>”), alongside <b>Nathalia Acevedo </b>(“<b>Post Tenbras Lux</b>”) and German-Russian Bollywood actress <b>Elena Kazan</b>, that strange hodge-podge of nationalities and influences should give you some idea what you’re in for. Unfortunately, however, “Ruined Heart” is non-narrative the way a fashion spread or a subpar music video is non-narrative<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-a5a3-d5a0-705b-e8c78983ba0c">—</span>it is not only devoid a story, it is devoid of any dialogue, and of anything but the most tired of ideas, which even Doyle’s energetic, colorful, textured, handheld digital camerawork cannot compensate for. It feels like something that should be on in the background somewhere, maybe of some trendy downtown clothing store.<br /><br />That’s perhaps the weirdest thing about it<span id="docs-internal-guid-764de562-a5a3-d5a0-705b-e8c78983ba0c">—</span>while it’s of a resolutely micro-budget, guerrilla sensibility (which makes it unlikely to see much of an international release), in its moodily lit, trashy aesthetic, as hot women stumble and pout through the streets and seedy clubs of Manila, occasionally having collision-like sex with a similarly moody, scowly Asano, “Ruined Heart” feels, of all things, commercial. Not that it can be sold, but that, right from its tiredly self-aware sub-title (yes this really is “<i>Another </i>Love Story Between A Criminal And A Whore” though “story” is pushing it) to its cooler-than-thou rock’n’roll soundtrack, there is nothing here you haven’t seen before, usually used to flog you overpriced denim or to convince you that some new band of fresh-faced kids are in fact super edgy. But absent even that agenda, “Ruined Heart” just feels entirely empty, having, in fact, very little heart and not a single idea rattling around its little clotheshorse head. [D+]<br /><br /> Wed, 12 Nov 2014 20:05:00 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-11-12T20:05:00Z Interview: James Gunn Talks ‘Guardians 2,’ Small Vs Big Budgets And Being “Betrayed” By ‘Lost’ Last week’s <b>Tokyo International Film Festival </b>marked the first visit to the Japanese capital for the Playlist, but also for the President of the 2014 competition jury, <b>James Gunn</b>. Gunn is still riding high on the runaway success of “<b>Guardians of the Galaxy</b>” (biggest film of the year so far) which had prior to release been regarded as the diciest prospect in the universe-consuming <b>Marvel</b> master plan (which just <a href="" title="Link:">revealed its “Phase 3</a>” recently —isn’t it funny how Marvel’s future planning is starting to sound increasingly like the galactic domination programs put forth by their very own supervillains?) So for Gunn, the chance to spend a week or so watching obscure foreign movies in an Asian megacity had to have been a welcome chance to temporarily hang up his newly-earned spurs as a blockbuster director and get back to basics.<br /><br /> We got to spend a little while with a relaxed, garrulous Gunn immediately following the <a href="">festival’s closing ceremony</a>&nbsp;at which he had announced the Grand Prix winner, with the prize going to the only U.S. film in competition,<b> Josh and Benny Safdie’</b>s “<b>Heaven Knows What</b>” (<a href="">our review</a>). During our interview, we talked a little about ‘<b>Guardians 2</b>’ and a lot about the challenges of big-budget versus low-budget filmmaking (he’s refreshing unabashed in liking big budgets), and even got to veer off onto some interesting tangents about TV show finales. But first off, we asked about what it was about the impressionistic drug addiction drama that had so impressed him and his jury, comprised of directors<b> Robert Luketic</b>, <b>John H Lee</b>, <b>Eric Khoo</b>, <b>Hiroshi Shinagawa </b>and U.K. Casting Director <b>Debbie McWilliams</b>.<br /><br /> <b>Tell us why you awarded “Heaven Knows What” the Grand Prix?</b><br />I started watching it and I instantly was enraptured. It was a movie that was authentic, it was so alive. Listen, I’m a fan of street cinema and what’s called lowlife writing —the works of <b>Charles Bukowski, William T. Vollman</b>…<br /><br /> <b>I thought of Hubert Selby Jr. while watching it… </b><br /> Exactly, I love all that stuff and this movie was one of the best instances of that in cinema I’ve seen. It’s up there with “<b>Trainspotting</b>” and “<b>Drugstore Cowboy</b>” and movies like that. So I knew I loved it instantly, and then to find out that the Jury also loved it made me extremely happy, because I was not sure that was going to be the case. But I was definitely the biggest supporter of the film on the jury. <br /><br /> <b>It was the only U.S. film in competition. Were you worried selecting it might seem like bias?</b><br /> I questioned that. But then I was talking to some audience members who were going to present an award, and they asked me for advice, and I said: just trust yourself. If you like something, go with that. I think there’s a way when you’re a judge or even when you’re a film critic that you can sometimes try to see things from other people’s points of view, like, what’s the cool thing to say? What’s the “right” thing to say? But for me, that’s not what cinema is about, that’s actually a blight on cinema. What do <i>I</i> love? What really turns <i>me</i> on? What really gets <i>me</i> excited? And so I just had to represent that. That’s my only responsibility and that was the movie that got me the most. Though there were others: I really loved “<b>The Lesson</b>.”<br /><br /> <b>Oh me too, </b>[<a href="" title="Link:">our review is here</a>] <b>I thought that actress was great.</b><br /> She was amazing. And I thought there were some amazing things about “<b>The Test.</b>” So there were a few that I loved quite a bit, but for me “Heaven Knows What” stood out the most. But I didn’t want to bully other people; I wanted to make sure that whoever we gave the Grand Prize to was an expression of the whole jury, and ultimately it was. <br /><br /> <b>So were there heated debates in the jury room?</b><br /> I wouldn’t say heated, because I knew instantly on the first day that everyone on the jury was of a pretty mellow temperament. There wasn’t <i>That Asshole</i>. I’ve been on a lot of juries and I’ve never been on a jury without an asshole. This was the first time.<br /><br /> <b>Doesn’t that suggest that possibly you were the asshole?</b><br /> Oh man, that’s probably true. Shit. <i>Shit</i>! No really, we were all pretty mellow and if we disagreed, we just disagreed, so what. One person liked the movie better is all. <br /><br /> <b>In your speech you mentioned the pleasure of being able to watch these films almost as a singular entity, which felt like a kind of manifesto for the value of film festivals. Is that something you still feel, despite now being a big bananas blockbuster director?</b><br />More so, I think. The truth is that I didn’t start out making commercial movies. My films were not film festival movies with the possible exception slightly of “<b>Super,</b>” but I was able to nurture my gifts through the works of artists making lower budget films that needed a place and an outlet. <br /><br /> At first, it was the b-movie outlet of video and DVD, and then [it was festivals]. And having that outlet for people to learn the craft of filmmaking, then to get lucky and win the lottery to be able to make a big movie that is still a personal expression of me and my life —that’s ‘Guardians’— I never would have gotten to that place without those types of festivals and festival crowds. <br /><br /> So I think it’s really necessary, not only for nurturing talent because that’s really only part of it, but also just for cinema fans themselves. To have an outlet for people who love movies that aren’t the big blockbuster films. Because studios only make a couple of movies a year now —they used to make 30 or 40 and now they make six or seven. And so all movies are huge movies now in a way. There are very few smaller films [in that system] and fewer still very small movies that get an outlet to be seen. So providing that outlet through film festivals is not just great, it’s necessary.<br /><br /> <b>And hey, you get to come to Japan.</b><br /> I know! I’ve never been to Japan, so that was a big part of it. Last year at Christmastime my parents brought me a bag of stuff I had when I was a kid. And in there was a list of things I must have written when I was like 18 years old, a list of things I wanted to accomplish in my lifetime… my bucket list. And I found it very moving because I’d done almost everything on the list! If anybody had read that list in Manchester, Missouri while I was living in my parents’ basement, they would have thought I was a delusional little kid, because it was like: “direct a movie,” “act in a movie,” “write a novel” —it was all these things that I’ve ended up doing. And one of the things on that list —the only place— was “go to Japan.” And then this opportunity presented itself.<br /><br /> <b>So what are your days going to look like once you get home?</b><br /> Basically just continuing writing ‘<b>Guardians 2</b>.’ <br /><br /> <b>Cool. Do you mind exclusively revealing the entire plot to me right now?</b><br /> Yeah, sure. We open up on a “<b>Mission</b>: <b>Impossible</b>” scenario where all the characters die…No, to be honest, I had the basic story for number two while I was working on number one, and perhaps even beyond that. So it’s gonna answer a lot of questions that are proposed in the first one, and we’ll be able to get to know some of the characters we didn’t get to know in the first one a little bit more, and we might meet a few new characters too. <br /><br /> <b>But has being here and watching these films inspired in you a desire to return to lower-budget filmmaking?</b><br /> I will admit that generally I don’t feel the desire to do that. Generally I<i> like </i>making big movies! It suits me, especially when I can make them like ‘Guardians’ where I’m actually loving what I’m telling. I wouldn’t want to go off and do something I wasn’t excited about, but luckily I’m excited by big pop things, I’m just like that. And I like being able to mix it with something that’s a little edgier. I’m pretty lucky. <br /><br /> But there were times I was watching something, and I was thinking you know, maybe it would be kinda cool to make a little low-budget movie again. But not <i>that</i> low budget. <br /><br /> I made &quot;<b>Super</b>&quot; for $3 million, and that was filmed in 24 days. And that $3 million dollars went to a lot of things other than what shows up on screen. Once you get done with the unions and everything else, that’s just like the basic cost of what you can make a movie for. And it was not easy, it was a pretty harrowing experience, especially when you work the way that I do —I’m not a guy who goes in and finds the moment, I’m a guy who plans everything. I’m happy that I did it, in part because it got me ‘Guardians,’ but it was pretty difficult. <br /><br /> <b>But those budgetary limitations do release a degree of creativity, right?</b><br /> They do. And there’s always limitations. For me, it’s about learning how those limitations can make me figure out a way around them in a way that somebody else wouldn’t. And where does it make me think in a way that I wouldn’t normally think, so then I appear more creative than I actually am. <br /><br /> <b>So it’s a series of cheats.</b><br /> It’s a series of cheats. And ‘Guardians’ was very much like that. I very much knew that there were certain things about ‘Guardians’ that needed to stay the <b>Marvel </b>way, but then figuring out a way around them to do my own thing was I think part of what made me have so much fun with the movie. So there’s always those things, whether they’re budgetary or otherwise. And even on ‘Guardians,’ there was a lot of budgetary constraints. <br /><br /> <b>Well does anyone ever think they have too much money?</b><br /> Heh. I will say that on my first day shooting ‘Guardians,’ I was like, “really? THIS is what you do?” You wait, and you set up the shot and then I get to come back and… <i> sit down.</i> And have a cup of coffee and talk to my friend. And then I go back and do a bit more work. It’s not like “arrrrggghhhh” the whole time. <br /><br /> The difference is it went on for 85 days. So the marathon aspect of it is very important. But there are some things about it that are definitely more pleasant than making low budget films.<br /><br /> <b>So probably nothing indie or low-budget till you’re sick of the ‘Guardians’ universe?</b><br /> That’s probably true. I think if I were to do something in a lower budget, I’d probably do it in another medium. I would be more interested in doing something like that on television —something I haven’t done. <br /><br /> But here’s the thing: I’m driven by ideas and if I had an idea tomorrow that really excited me that was a low budget movie, like there’s this little script that I did I’m producing and someone else is directing [<i>we’re assuming that’s the developing “<b>Purge</b>”-esque high-concept horror/thriller “<b>T</b></i><b><i>he Belcoo Experiment</i></b><i>” but don’t quote us on that</i>]. So if I’m excited about an idea and it’s a five million dollar movie, I’ll go do it. I’ve always kind of done what I wanted to do. <br /><br /> <b>But TV, or long-form narrative, is a possibility?</b><br /> It’s possible. I’ve talked to <i>everybody</i>. But I have commitment issues in everything, so I don’t think I could really be a showrunner, but the idea of kicking something off is appealing, or doing a 6-12 episode self-contained series.<br /><br /> <b>Any particular inspirations in that regard?</b><br /> Definitely “<b>True Detective</b>” was a great example of one director, one story. It worked fantastically well. Well, I thought it worked fantastically well, I know a lot people didn’t. A lot of people didn’t like the last episode, I loved it. But I do have a lot of hardcore atheist friends who react badly whenever there’s even a hint of mysticism.<br /><br /> <b>Huh, that’s funny because some of the people I knew who disliked the last episode found it too prosaic.</b><br /> I’ll just tell you it moved me. For me, it worked. <br /><br />Whereas something like the last episode of “<b>Lost</b>” was like a nightmare for me, a real living nightmare. No word of a lie —I fell into a deep depression after that last episode, because I believed in that show with a religious fervor. I feel so betrayed by that ending, so betrayed to this day, so hurt. I believed in that show probably more than I believed in any artwork of my adult life and God, the betrayal. <br /><br /> <b>Has that finale influenced your own approach?</b><br /> Oh yeah, it made me realize that for sure I did not ever, <i>ever</i> want to do that to my audience. <br /><br /><i><a class="" title="Link: null" href="" target="_blank"> For more coverage from Tokyo, go here. </a></i><br /><br /> Thu, 06 Nov 2014 20:12:11 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-11-06T20:12:11Z Tokyo Film Festival: U.S. Indie Scoops Top Prize; Tim Burton And Takeshi Kitano Honored With Friday night’s closing ceremony (time difference being what it is, Friday night in Tokyo works out as sometime in August 2017 in the U.S.) the inaugural Playlist-goes-to-Japan visit to the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival </b>also came to a close. But while our stay in the Asian megalopolis ended, on a personal level, with clawmarks on the carpeting at Narita airport as we were dragged against our will onto our departing plane, the Festival came to a more dignified close, with a longish speech-heavy ceremony surrounding the announcement of the 2014 awards. With one exception, we largely agreed with the selections, and the pick for the Grand Prix happened to be <a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">our favorite film</a>&nbsp;from the festival’s competition line up, <b>Josh and Benny Safdie</b>’s addiction drama “<b>Heaven Knows What</b>.” We have interviews with the directors, and with the stars of that film -- newcomer <b>Arielle Holmes</b> and <b>Caleb Landry Jones </b>-- to come, but for now, here are a few words about each of the night's winners and a few impressions overall.<br /><br /> So the <b>Grand Prix </b>went, as mentioned, to the only U.S. film in the competition lineup, “Heaven Knows What.” <a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">Our full review</a>&nbsp;outlines a more comprehensive impression of the film which actually played <b>Venice</b> and <b>NYFF </b>prior to coming to Tokyo but which we’d managed to miss at both despite marking it out as one to watch. Jury President <b>James Gunn</b>, representing the judging panel of Australian/Hollywood Director<b> Robert Luketic</b>, Korean Director <b>John H Lee</b>, Singapore’s <b>Eric Khoo</b>, Japan’s<b> Hiroshi Shinagawa </b>and UK Casting Director <b>Debbie McWilliams</b>, justified the choice with the following speech:<br /><br /> “This film bursts with life, but is about people living on the brink of death. It’s about people who are desperate to become something more, and in the process of attempting to do so, become something less. The performances seem raw, natural and real, and it belies the&nbsp;craftsmanship of those performances beneath that. The direction is exciting, it turns tragedy into humor, and the music, in all the best ways, is disruptive and shameless.”<br /><br /> Unsurprisingly, given that level of praise the picture also picked up the <b>Best Director Award</b> for the Safdie brothers, with <b>Benny Safdie </b>remarking that receiving the award in Tokyo of all cities meant a great deal: “It’s a true honor to receive a prize in city of movement and speed, which is also what we want in our movies.” Brother&nbsp;<b>Josh&nbsp;</b>backed him up, saying “The fanaticism for life is amazing here. People believe in the extremes of life, in extremism, which is all I’m&nbsp;interested in.” And of course the film makes stellar (&quot;disruptive and shameless,” according to Gunn) use of the music of Japanese electronica composer <b>Isao Tomita</b>,<b> </b>so there is also some shared spirit there.<br /><br /> Elsewhere the<b> Best Actor </b>prize went to <b>Robert Więckiewicz</b>’s performance in Polish alcoholism drama “<b>The Mighty Angel</b>,” one of the films we unfortunately did not catch up with, but presenting Jury member Robert Luketic said of the actor: “[he is] so committed to humanity that at times you could almost feel it and smell it. This actor takes the audience through the agony and dehumanization of full-blown alcoholism. There is unrelenting and convincing pursuit of truth in performance.” And <b>Best Actress </b>was won by Japanese star of stage and screen <b>Rie Miyazawa</b> for Japan’s sole competition entry “<b>Pale Moon</b>.” As we detailed <a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">in our review</a>, it’s one of the films with which we felt most out of step with the popular reaction, and here too it seems we were on the other side of the fence; the jury decision to award Miyazawa was unanimous. Her performance was described as &quot;... profound, so sensitive, yet fragile.&quot;<br /><br />We ourselves would probably have given the prize to <b>Margita Gosheva</b>, the remarkable star of the Bulgarian “<b>The Lesson</b>” (<a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">review here</a>) which picked up the <b>Special Jury Prize</b>, having also earned the distinction of being the first film to get a North American distribution deal in Toronto. Awarding it in Tokyo, presenter <b>Hiroshi Shinagawa</b>&nbsp;also called out Gosheva’s remarkably steely, un-self-pitying turn, saying “This film had us on the edge of our seats -- stressed out in a good sense. The performance of [Gosheva] was great and had to be because her presence was often the only thing on the screen.”<br /><br /> Outside of those main awards, the <b>Audience Award</b> went to “Pale Moon,” while Russian <b>Alexander Kott</b>’s “<b>Test</b>” gathered more buzz and silverware (actually what looks like perspexware in Tokyo) after playing to acclaim in Abu Dhabi by scooping both the inaugural<b> WOWOW Viewer’s Choice</b> award (judged by a panel of viewers) and the award for <b>Best Artistic Contribution</b>. And the two main sidebars of the Official Selection also announced their winners, with the <b>Japanese Cinema Splash </b>top prize, for emerging Japanese talent, going to “<b>100 Yen Love</b>” with a special mention for the intriguingly titled “<b>Ecotherapy Holiday Getaway</b>.”&nbsp;<br /><br />And the<b> Asian Future</b>&nbsp;section, which promotes filmmaking from across the region, gave two prizes --<b> The Spirit of Asia</b> award went to “<b>The Last Reel</b>,” a remarkable Cambodian film that we’ll be reviewing presently, but which details the country’s troubled recent history with real personal emotion, while the <b>Best Asian Future Film Award</b> went to Iranian director <b>Amirhossein Asgari</b>’s debut film “<b>Borderless</b>.” Presenting the award, Toronto Film Festival Artistic Director <b>Cameron Bailey</b> said “Our jury was impressed by a film that tells its story of survival during war with the purest of its cinematic elements; image, gesture and time. The lead actor is a young boy, and he does all that without one word of dialogue.”<br /><br /> Finally, two honorary <b>Samurai Awards</b>&nbsp;were given out, celebrating filmmakers <b>Takeshi Kitano</b> and <b>Tim Burton</b>. Burton, who had just that day (appropriately Halloween) opened the Tokyo edition of the World of Tim Burton exhibition, gave a brief but heartfelt speech, saying “Japan is one of my favorite countries, so it’s an honor to be here with all of you, with the great Takeshi Kitano, and with the Japanese monsters that I love.” <br /><br />But it was Kitano who made decidedly the best, and most idiosyncratic speech of the night, even poking fun a little at the awards that otherwise were extremely respectful. He said “I think I was in the first Tokyo Film Festival, when it was still a small festival. They didn’t even have a Red Carpet -- it was a Green Carpet that made us all feel like grasshoppers... I understand there’s no prize money [pointed pause] but a trophy that looks like it's made up of left over material from other,&nbsp;nicer trophies? Actually, I didn’t want to receive the prize but when I heard that Tim Burton was coming, I felt proud to come. I’ve been making TV and comedy shows but I haven’t been satisfied, and now I finally feel like I’m casting off my skin… like a cicada turning into a dragonfly, and I hope this award will be a part of that change.”<br /><br /> We’ll have more interviews and reviews to come from the Tokyo Film Festival but <a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">here’s a link to our coverage to date</a>, including<a class="" href="" title="Link:"> a report on</a><b>&nbsp;John Lasseter</b>’s “Cool Japan” talk, and <a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">a batshit interview </a>with cinematographer <b>Christopher Doyle</b>. In the meantime, however, farewell to the amazing Tokyo and thanks to the wonderful staff of the Tokyo Film Festival for gently guiding jetlagged and culture-shocked foreign journalists through a fascinating week of film.<br /><br /><br /> <br /> <br /><br /> Sun, 02 Nov 2014 21:10:57 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-11-02T21:10:57Z Tokyo Film Festival Review: Audience Award Winner ‘Pale Moon’ As the only Japanese film playing in competition at the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival</b>, expectations were high and goodwill primed to cheer the root-of-all-evil tale “<b>Pale Moon</b>” as the local find of the week. And it just scooped the <b>Audience Award</b>, having earned at least mild praise from most critics, so really the only kink in that narrative is us, contrarians that we are. &quot;Pale Moon,&quot; the fourth feature from director <b>Daihachi Yoshida</b>, is certainly more slickly made than some of the other competition titles here. It boasts a locally well-known lead in stage and screen actress <b>Rie Miyazawa</b>, plus a springy, culturally and temporally relevant-feeling plot about the corrupting lure of money. But it is also a remarkably plodding telling of a familiar story, one that unfolds in so linear a fashion that it feels oddly overexplained, only ever operating on a single level, entirely without subtext or subplot. So the film feels much longer than its 126 minutes, and relies solely on the assumption that we’ll be deeply invested in this lead character and get some vicarious thrill from seeing her throw off the restrictive shackles of her place in society and take what is not hers<span id="docs-internal-guid-fbb1988c-6cd5-edbf-02b4-89a3386452f7">—</span>in love and in material gain.<br /><br /> This is problematic because it assumes an empathy for Rika (Miyazawa), a drippy housewife who has returned to the workforce in a junior position at a local bank, which the character never really earns. If her transition from meek wifey (whose bluff, career-fastracked husband regards her job as little more than a diversion and expects her to leave it post haste when he is promoted to a position in Shanghai) to devious thief with a hot new boy toy and a closet full of designer clothes, is supposed to bring us some sort of satisfaction, surely she should have some register in between those two settings. But it’s less a tale of gradual, hard-won change than the flicking of a switch, and Miyazawa gets little to work with in terms of her character’s interiority.<br /><br /> This lack of depth grates because the film is fundamentally a morality play. Rika hits on a scheme, which requires nothing more than a basic level of competence with a scanner, by which she can embezzle her clients’ money. She also, in her husband’s convenient absence, embarks on an affair with the grandson of an important elderly client, so basically she’s overstepping her bounds in every way as a working, married female in Japanese society, which, while so progressive in so many ways, is still relatively conservative when it comes to its expectations of women. Indeed the film glances off that potentially fascinating topic<span id="docs-internal-guid-fbb1988c-6cd5-edbf-02b4-89a3386452f7">—</span>the junior staff at the bank are all women, while the manager and his boss are the only men we see working there. The more interesting character of Sumi, Rika’s sharp-eyed superior, a bowl-haired 20-year veteran who is about to be unceremoniously ousted as she’s simply become too expensive to keep in her position<span id="docs-internal-guid-fbb1988c-6cd5-edbf-02b4-89a3386452f7">—</span>being a woman, can’t really expect a promotion<span id="docs-internal-guid-fbb1988c-6cd5-edbf-02b4-89a3386452f7">—</span>is largely sidelined until the very end. <br /><br /> A further compounding issue is that while lots of attention is given to moments of relatively minor moral import, frustratingly little is lavished on the moments that, from an outside perspective, mark a much bigger act of personal transgression. It seems we're being told that once Rika has embarked on this illegal course of action, it's more or less a race to the bottom for her in terms of ethics. Yet we can easily discern a qualitative difference between Rika's &quot;no one gets hurt&quot; one-off plan to bilk a mean, lecherous old grandpa out of cash he doesn't need and replace it before he could possibly notice, and her more or less immediate next step, which is to scam her other clients, including a kindly aging couple and a sweet, trusting, lonely old lady who suffers from memory lapses. Confusedly relating all this back to an incident in Rika’s childhood where she became overzealous in her charitable donations, ultimately even stealing from her father’s wallet to stuff her school’s donation box, doesn’t help matters either. Returning to that storyline for the film’s “resolution” feels needlessly pat, and, again, both overexplained and weirdly undernourishing as regards what the real import is.<br /><br /> A near-final scene, after Rika’s chickens have come home to roost as they inevitably always were going to, does make a late bid for something provocative. It’s an exchange between Rika and her stern-faced nemesis Sumi, in which the older woman reveals both her contempt for Rika and her admiration for the hedonist excess she’s experienced that Sumi herself never has. A grown woman, past the flush of youth, whose pathetically small dream is to one day stay up all night, there is a real undercurrent of regret and emotion in her, and it gives even the thinly drawn Rika something to play off, if only by reflection. It hints at just what rich territory Yoshida stumbles about in, as though fumbling for a light switch in a darkened room<span id="docs-internal-guid-fbb1988c-6cd5-edbf-02b4-89a3386452f7">—</span>&nbsp;heady themes about social roles and propriety and the tiny truthful tragedies it can mask.<br /><br /> But it’s too little too late, or at least it was for us. Neither a convincing parable of self-empowerment, nor the kind of ripe ethics drama that really involves itself in the moral ramifications of its characters’ actions, “Pale Moon” is, as its name suggests, and as its desaturated palette and indifferent photography confirm, a wan drama, drained to the point of bloodlessness. The audience that embraced it here presumably found something more vital at its heart, but try as we might, we couldn’t even locate a pulse. [C]<br /> Fri, 31 Oct 2014 22:05:00 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-31T22:05:00Z Interview: Cinematographer Christopher Doyle Talks 'Life Of Pi,' 'Narnia,' Dancing With Nuns And Much, Much More Incorrigible rogue <b>Christopher Doyle</b> (who would almost certainly dig that descriptor) is a famously/notoriously brilliant/terrible interviewee, depending on how wedded you are to the idea that interviews should yield even semi-coherent answers or at least stay roughly on the topic of the profession for which the interviewee is well-known. On one hand, as we discovered during our <b>Tokyo International Film Festival </b>interview, refreshingly few are the shits the man gives about pissing off potential employers by questioning the integrity of some of their sacred cows (his <a class="" href="" target="_blank">prior</a> <a class="" href="" target="_blank">disses</a> on Oscar wins for &quot;<b>Life of Pi</b>&quot;'s cinematography and &quot;<b>The Departed&quot;</b>'s screenplay are more fully explained below).<br /><br /> On the other, his quote machine tendencies can be difficult to corral, and just occasionally one gets the impression, with non-sequiturs about nuns giving him hard-ons and repeated assertions of his non-platonic adoration of womankind (well, the kind who are &quot;tall with no tits&quot; anyway), that Doyle is quite aware of the largely self-created myth that surrounds him and wants to maintain it.<br /><br /> However, the &quot;bad boy of cinematography,&quot; rock 'n' roll image he puts out is at least partially justified. Doyle, since making his name via his collaboration with <b>Wong Kar Wai </b>on the likes of &quot;<b>In the Mood for Love</b>&quot; and &quot;<b>2046</b>&quot; —which are frankly two of the most beautiful films ever made and by themselves would justify his spot in the pantheon— probably came closest to the mainstream with <b>M. Night Shyamalan</b>'s mindnumbingly turgid &quot;<b>The Lady in the Water</b>&quot; but otherwise has mostly ploughed a resolutely indie furrow. In recent years, whether by choice as he claims or by lack of big-budget offers, his films have become even smaller —his last high-ish profile gig was probably either <b>Jim Jarmusch</b>'s &quot;<b>The Limits of Control</b>&quot; or <b>Neil Jordan</b>'s &quot;<b>Ondine,</b>&quot; and since then he's been working on a lot of little known or first-time directors' projects, many set in far flung locales, many of which will probably never see the inside of a U.S. movie theater.<br /><br /> One such is the film he was ostensibly in Tokyo to promote —&quot;<b>Ruined Heart: Another Lovestory Between A Criminal &amp; A Whore</b>&quot; from prolific post-punk Filipino director <b>Khavn</b>. Our review is to follow, but suffice to say for now it's a woozy, non-narrative, dialogue-free, self-consciously cool trip, which, ironically enough, in its vehement un-commerciality actually most evokes the hyper-commercial aesthetics of advertising spots or music videos. But certainly, no one can accuse Doyle of having sold out his principles: it's a micro-budgeted indie, shot totally guerrilla style on the streets of Manila, and it's just one of seven titles listed for Doyle <i>this year alone.</i><br /><br /> We got to spend a giddy, enjoyable, frequently inappropriate half hour with Doyle on the 49th floor of a Tokyo skyscraper with the city laid out at our feet like a supplicant, and these are the results. We apologize in advance.<br /><br /> <b>'Ruined Heart' plays out a lot like a music video, and in many of the films you work on, music seems to play as much of a role as dialogue or story. Is the music an important factor in getting you interested in a project?</b><br />It's music or sex.<br /><br /> <b>Only ever one or the other?</b><br /> Ha! Of course not. What do you mean? It's the same thing! <br /><br /> My closest friends are all either filmmakers or musicians. And so that's why that is. It's very rare that a <i>filmmaker</i> filmmaker approaches me. It's always a friend who says &quot;oh, let's make a film together.&quot; <br /><br /> Which is really great, because then the intimacy or the complicity, whatever you call it, is there already. So you don't have to work on the &quot;film&quot; part of it, and you don't have to have the meetings or the discussions about style and all that kind of crap. You just go for it, because you know each other in a more basic and more integral way. <br /><br /> <b>I read recently you had said you wanted to be &quot;less a cinematographer than a collaborator&quot;</b><br /> Yes, and that's why I've done so many films with first time directors. I think the questions are the point. Because at my age, most people think they know all the answers and they want to tell you the answers —that's what happens with parents and grandparents and I'm at a grandparent age now. But I think the questions are the most important thing.<br /><br /> <b>And first-timers ask more of them?</b><br /> Of course. They ask the really ridiculous questions, and then you have to resolve the answer, which is a compromise. It's what you can do at that particular time with your resources or the space in which you're working. So you create something you never expected to create because you never thought that way yourself. <br /><br /> I mean, look at me. I have certain preferences for colors, for the way I dress, for tall women with no tits, the usual stuff, and then somebody says &quot;why don't we have a short fat woman who's myopic?&quot; Or <b>Jodorowosky </b>says, &quot;how can we do this with 30 crippled dwarves instead?&quot; <i>[Doyle recently announced his desire to work with </i><b><i>Alejandro Jodorowosky</i></b><i> and it does seem unlikely that they haven't already] </i><br /><br /> So we have 30 crippled dwarves. How can we shoot them? And you think &quot;that's a good question.&quot; Have you ever been asked that question before? No! So you've really got to think about how to answer it.<br /><br /> <b>But does that also mean that long-term collaborations are more difficult as you simply get to know the other person too well?</b><br /> Are you talking about my sex life again?<i> [He cackles as I take issue with the &quot;again&quot; part, as it was, dear reader, Mr Doyle who brought sex up the last time, and will again, frequently throughout. I was actually just fruitlessly fishing for juice on the dissolution of his working partnership with Wong] </i><br /><br /> <b>Or your professional life?</b><br /> Of course! I have to be eclectic. Have to be. And now I am talking about my sex life too. Which is why I'll never be good husband. I'm an okay filmmaker because I'm a bad husband. It's true. I love everybody. In China it's a Confucian principle —universal love— and you pursue it day by day. But it's not good for a family life, and I'll never <i>be</i> anywhere because I'm always making films. I'll always be with what I'm doing right at that moment. And most people don't live in the moment. <br /><br /> But perhaps what we do has other repercussions. Perhaps it turns into a film which means something more to other people. I guess in my own way I am committed — I've committed to that idea. I don't think I can step away from that. As much as I love women, it's not fair, because I have to keep on going with this stuff, because this stuff has a different resonance. <br /><br /> <b>So amid the wanderlust, you do have a sense of legacy?</b><br /> <i>[Long pause while he thinks] </i>I said it many times and then it happened: &quot;I won't be there when my Dad dies, because I'll be making a film,&quot; and that's what happened. My Dad died a year a and half ago —not so bad, 90 years old is a good inning (I'm going to 103). And I went back to Australia like six times, every month or so, but I wasn't there the day he died, because I was making a film. <br /><br /> So you have to assume that responsibility. I'm not saying I'm the Wounded Soldier, I'm not saying that kind of shit like I'm some Irish patriot. But it's true, it's a decision and it's tough. And most people would say &quot;no, stop making films, your Dad is dying, stay there for a year.&quot; So why is this so important? I don't know, but I feel a responsibility to film, which is really strange.<br /><br /> I mean, why are you even here if you don't think I have something to share? Why would you waste your day? So there must be something. I have to be responsible to you and to the audience and for helping people see what we're doing…<i>[suddenly worried he's being pompous he gurgles]</i> Christ, I feel like, like, like…Nelson Mandela. <i>[</i><i><a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">he recently called himself the </a></i><b><i><a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">Keith Richards</a></i></b><i><a class="" href="" target="_blank"> of film</a>, but frankly Mandela is funnier]</i><br /><br /> I'm the Nelson Mandela of film! Hahahah! What bullshit! <i>[Doyle stands up and strides around the room puffing his chest out exaggeratedly, before plopping back down again.]</i><br /><br /> It's just tough, because I love women, in case you didn't hear, and what are you gonna say to them? That's why I go with the younger ones because once they get to 30 or something they wanna have kids, and what do you do? I think you heard: I love women. Women are the ocean for me. They are everything, but then you can't fuck them up.<br /><br /> <b>This restless, roving lifestyle has presumably been further liberated by the advent of digital, which you've embraced. But what are the downsides?</b><br /> Well, I don't know how to use a phone, there's that. No, we just do our stuff and we have really wonderful assistants who know what they're doing. I think it's fantastic, I think this is the most astonishing period of film history. And I should say: just do it. Kids! Just fucking <i>do</i> it. <br /><br /> There used to be a time where you had to do this and this and this, and you had to save up enough money to buy an 8mm camera and film and send it all to process…now you just turn on your phone and you're on <b>CNN</b> if you want, or you're making a film. I think it's fantastic. The point is not about the materials. It's the ideas, the energy, the collaboration. It's how you express yourself. <br /><br /> Many people ask me: don't you feel quote unquote intimidated by all these people out there doing all this? I say no, it makes me better. Because if I'm actually asking people to pay me for what I'm doing, it has to be better than anything else you ever seen. Or at least more true. Or at least more personal. So actually, I think that everything that's happening online with the kids is actually a stimulus to me.<br /><br /> Now the reverse thing is that I can say to the kids: if I can do it, anyone can do it. And this is a great privilege. Because I have a certain, what's the word, rapport with the kids. I know a lot of kids think a lot of me and I'm very proud of that. It means I can say to the kids, just do it, but do it in your own way. And that's the privilege that I have at the moment. <br /><br /> <b>So you're pro the democratization of the medium that new technology and media has enabled?</b><br /> Yes, of course. It's a personalization, and that's fantastic, because then you're not going to pretend to be <b>Spielberg </b>or Chris Doyle, you're going to be who you are and that will have a voice of its own that will resonate.<br /><br /> <b>And yet you've been outspoken about digital's contribution to a kind of erosion of the cinematographic arts… or at least how they're awarded?</b><br /> <i>[Doyle is about to answer then stops, and looks suddenly impressed] </i>Wooo! That was…you didn't even say <b>Scorsese</b>!<br /><br /> <b>I was trying to be subtle. I didn't even say &quot;Life of Pi&quot;</b><br /> … Or &quot;Life of Pi!&quot; <i>[we're referring to </i><a href=""><i>this minor controversy</i></a><i> Doyle caused previously]<br /></i><br /> <b>I thought I was being pretty smooth.</b><br /> Ha ha! Very good. Look, if 300 people make a film, then you give 300 people an award, that's all I'm saying. There's no denigration of anybody.&nbsp;I'm sure [<b>Claudio Miranda</b>, Oscar winning DP of &quot;Life of Pi&quot;] is a wonderful person —I've never met him. But it's probably at least 300 people, maybe 3000 people, who made that film. So I think it's insulting to cinematography to not acknowledge that the world has changed. <br /><br /> You should give a collaboration award, because it's not about cinematography. It's about the process that a large number of people engaged in to achieve this image. If you gave an award for Best Image and then you had 300 people on stage, that I can appreciate. But you see just one wanker up there. <br /><br /> <b>So what do you see as being the next phase of evolution for Cinematography?</b><br /> That's like saying &quot;so are you still going to your local bank or do you trust the world bank?&quot;&nbsp;<i>[honestly had no idea why my question was like saying that, but Doyle's on a new roll]</i> It's the one percent and the 99 percent. We're the 99 percent: the people like me and ['Ruined Heart' director] <b>Khavn</b> and [producer] <b>Stefan&nbsp;</b>are&nbsp;gonna make the films as we can make them, and the 1 percent will go off into their gravity-less world. Where it's fantastic, they've got like the Hubble telescope and you've got us here on Earth. <br /><br /> <b>Are you referring also to the movie &quot;Gravity&quot;?</b><i>[which also won Best Cinematography for a substantially reworked image]</i><br /> Well yes, that was the joke I was trying to make. But their gravity is money. Which is fine, just go ahead, but I don't feel much a part of that because of all the other bullshit that comes with it. It's a political movement basically, coming with all the complications, all the bureaucracy and all the accountants. <br /><br /> It's like the guy who did &quot;<b>Narnia 2</b>.&quot; I just happened to be in Poland, doing a small film that I wrote and directed in Warsaw, and there's a party for 'Narnia 2,' like, the opening, I don't know what. And the guy comes up to me and says, &quot;Chris, I'm going through hell.&quot; And I say why, and he says &quot;278 million dollars budget. It's not a film, I'm dealing with accountants the whole time, it's all about the money. After this,&quot; he says, &quot;I'm not gonna do anything over 30 million dollars!&quot; <i>[Doyle laughs uproariously] </i>Like that was nothing!<br /><br /> But we're gonna struggle in the trenches, because ultimately I think how many bloody remakes of things can you watch? That's going to shift, the demographic will shift, and then those poor fuckers will have to come back to us. It's happened always: it happened in the '60s in American film, you have &quot;<b>Easy Rider</b>.&quot; It happened with the New Wave. <br /><br /> You sell your popcorn and your shit, and then they'll see everyone's online watching these really great films watching made by young people in Indonesia or Burma, and fuck your special effects. And then the money people will say &quot;oh shit, too much is happening online&quot; and of course they have to chase the money, but by that stage the money will be us.<br /><br /> <b>So you're a revolutionary? An anarchist?</b><br /> Me? I'm a Catholic! [The dictionary definition of that word] means universal. I just came from Belfast [Doyle has just wrapped on <b>Mark Cousins</b>' next film &quot;<b>I am Belfast&quot;</b>] and well, there…<br /><br /> <b>There, it doesn't really have that meaning.</b><br />No. Honestly, the Protestants and the Catholics all believe in the same God!<br /><br /> <b>Ah yes, but they can argue about the Virgin Mary, and whether she was…</b><br /> Of course she was a virgin! She didn't exist!<br /><br /> <b>You're a really shit Catholic, can I just say. </b><br /> Haha! No virgins exist in my world. I've never known a virgin to exist.<br /><br /> <b>Not after you've met them, presumably. </b><br /><i>[Laughs, pounds table, is weirdly flattered] </i>No, you know, I grew up with priests and I think real Catholics are great people. I lived and worked in a convent, believe it or not, for three years in India and the Mother Superior was the most wonderful person I've ever known —all the rest of the nuns were total bullshit. But every Christmas, I had such a hard on when they'd dance with me. 36 nuns and I was the only guy.<br /><br /> <b>Did this really happen? Is this an actual true story?</b><br /> Yes! You wouldn't believe how hard I was! And how much they enjoyed it. They couldn't wait for Christmas. <br /><br /> <b>Ok, I should really ask you about the film…</b><br /> Aw, why? We were having such a good time? But yes, I've done like 15 films this year and they were all like 3 or 4 days, and I think this is the future. You have a focus, you collect a group of people, you get support and you just go for it. <br /><br />And this film was also about the energy of another space. I've worked in Manila twice before and always to me the space is a challenge, the interpretation of the space is very important.<br /><br /> <b>You do seem to enjoy cities.</b><br /> Oh yes, cities are super important to me. And then of course it's a rock 'n' roll film. I think it's about energy and about a space that I was invited to engage with, with people I love. What more could I ask for?<br /><br /> <b>It doesn't have anything like a traditional narrative. Is non-narrative a direction you're drawn to as a DP?</b><br /> Yes, it's a celebration, it's music, it's energy. You know, it's called <i>moving pictures</i> in English (in Chinese it's called <i>electric shadows</i>). So all this <b>Merchant Ivory</b> bullshit —by the way I love them, I worked with them!— and all this… like, in China everything's a novel translated into cinema. <br /><br /> That's translating another genre, another tradition, which is theatergoing, which is reading. You translate it into a space with a plot. Now, the real stuff, since <b>Eisenstein</b>, since <b>Melies</b>, since <b>Lumiere</b>, has been about the celebration of the image. That's what cinema is, moving pictures. <br /><br /> <b>So it's less a storytelling medium to you?</b><br /> It has to be. It has to be a visual experience. I mean, what is a documentary about? What is &quot;<b>Koyanisqaatsi</b>?&quot; Why do people watch these wonderful underwater films —it's to immerse yourself in the experience. Paintings don't tell stories, —well, some do.&nbsp;<b>Delacroix</b>, <b>Rivera</b>, <b>Frida</b>, contain narratives, but you don't ask a <b>Rothko</b>, &quot;Hello Mr Rothko painting, what are you trying to tell me?&quot; You just get lost in the burgundy color and you think about having a glass of wine. That's what I think about when I see a Rothko. <br /><br /> So that's what film should be: you watch this and you go home and you want to eat an egg. Or you want fuck a whore. Or you want to kill your neighbor. That's what it should be about. Or you want to look like <b>Asano</b> [the Japanese star of 'Ruined Heart']. Why do people watch fashion shows? People just go to enjoy the spectacle, to watch the tall girls walk so stupidly and hope that something happens. Why can't films be like that?<br /><br /> To me the story is… who gives a shit? How many Shakespearean films work?<br /><br /> <b>Very few. But a lot of story-based films work.</b><br /> But how many Shakespearean films have been made? Probably thousands, and only maybe three or four really work. Yet the story is pretty good, but the film doesn't work. <br /><br /> <b>But that doesn't mean we should jettison narrative…</b><br /> No, that means we should have documentaries, anime, and visual films. You should have a choice. Ten years ago, nobody would watch documentaries, and now it's one of the most vital forces in cinema.<br /><br /> <b>And you feel comfortable working in all those different areas?</b><br /> Yes, because it's different women in different…<br /><br /> <i>[I'm a little afraid where this might go so I supply] </i><b>Skirts?</b><br /> It's all about different skirts. You've got the Wonderbra, you've got the miniskirt, you've got… <br /><br /> <b>… all the great developments in human endeavor.</b><br /> What more do you want in life? I've done five Wonderbra commercials. I have so much to tell you. I think we should do another interview just about them… <i>[Believe it or not, the tone of the what was left of our conversation actually went downhill from there]</i>.<br /><br /><br /><br /> Thu, 30 Oct 2014 17:29:50 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-30T17:29:50Z Tokyo Film Festival Review: Josh & Benny Safdie’s ‘Heaven Knows What’ Starring Caleb Landry Jones & Arielle Holmes Junkies scream at each other incoherently on sidewalks and push erratically through crowds, pursuing, with glazed eyes and matted hair, dramas that only they can see. They shoot up in parks and fast food restaurant restrooms, shoplift, and con each other into and out of their stashes. As a taxi driver once yelled at me when I yelped at a rat the size of a border collie crossing Houston, “Welcome to New York!” But <b>Josh </b>and<b> Benny Safdie</b>’s harsh, unromanticized yet lyrical “<b>Heaven Knows What</b>,” which we caught up with at the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival</b>, is a work of minor revelation in that it doesn’t feel like it comes from the other side of the fence. While it maintains an objective remove from the proceedings, stylistically hinting at, but thankfully never trying to capture the sensation of an addict’s highs and lows, it doesn’t condescend or patronize or demonize. Instead it locates its perspective firmly within this usually invisible community and looks out at the rest of the world from there. So in a neat reversal of the way middle class privilege tends to work, suddenly it’s the “normal” people, the gainfully employed, the scrupulously respectable, the persons-of-fixed-abode, who might as well be cloaked in invisibility. They are undifferentiated white noise, packing pellets for the real life that exists between these usually marginalized protagonists.<br /><br /> The film came about when the Safdie brothers, researching a different project as their potential next narrative feature after the well-received “<b>Daddy Long Legs</b>,” came across <b>Arielle Holmes,</b>&nbsp;at the time a functioning heroin addict who soon after they met attempted suicide and was confined to Bellevue Hospital, an incident that forms the opening sequence of a film that weaves together elements of Holmes’ real-life experiences with fictional encounters and characters. They all, however, even <b>Caleb Landry Jones’</b> Ilya (Jones is nominally the film’s biggest star and certainly the biggest ”name” the Safdies have worked with to date) orbit around Holmes herself. The inspiration for the story also takes the lead role and makes riveting, totally authentic-feeling work of it. Self-destructive, with the inherent selfishness of the addict, Holmes can also at times seem tremulously beautiful and so very, very young, but she never shies away from embodying her character’s ugliness too<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-5372-a30e-3594-977548e545cf">—</span>her casual cruelty, her shrill argumentativeness, her maddening self-involvement and delusions of the grand tragedy of her love affair with Ilya. That willful self-deception is beautifully summed up by a single sequence in which Harley, in rare voiceover narration, sighs about the worlds Ilya opened up for her, and about how there was “an elegance” to him, while the pictures tell the story of two lank-haired dullards stealing bottles of 5-Hour Energy from drugstores to fence to kiosk vendors.<br /><br /> Harley (Holmes) is released from Bellevue<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-5372-a30e-3594-977548e545cf">—</span>the gripping unbroken opening credits shot weaves in and out of the psych ward as she takes her Methodone and gets into a scrap with another patient<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-5372-a30e-3594-977548e545cf">—</span>with fourteen stitches on her slashed wrist. Ostensibly trying to avoid Ilya (Jones), the fellow addict with whom she has a tempestuous love affair, she falls in with drug dealer Mike (<b>Buddy Duress</b>) instead. A self-aggrandizing motormouth, he nonetheless, within this warped microcosmic world, genuinely seems to care for Harley. The days pass in a cumulative hazy blur of scores, drunkenness, begging sessions, and long periods shooting the shit in fast food joints, before a potential overdose sees Harley rush back to Ilya’s side and the two embark on an abortive trip to Florida.<br /><br /> As that summation might suggest, the film’s impressionist vibe and excellent woozy, washed-out photography (indie DP-du-jour <b>Sean Price Williams</b> also shot “<b>Listen Up Philip</b>”) are mandated by a loose, amorphous structure that may frustrate those looking for a more classically shaped story. But this is an evocation of aimless, yet moment-to-moment urgent existences, and so it feels entirely appropriate that it is itself moment-to-moment gripping but lacking in simple overarching narrative arcs. <br /><br /> Across its slender 95-minute run time, the film doesn’t so much build momentum as pulsate alternately with periods of high drama and soporific lulls, yet it all coheres, due in large part to some truly astonishing music cues. Taken together, they comprise one of the most extraordinary soundtracks of the year, used in bold, often brilliantly overwhelming fashion. Indeed, if the film gave us nothing other than a stellar introduction to the astonishing Debussy reworkings of Japanese electronica composer <b>Isao Tomita </b>(you better believe he is all up in my Spotify right this second), that would have been a great deal.<br /><br /> But of course it’s a lot more than that. “Heaven Knows What” (perhaps only really let down by its generic and forgettable title) is part of the tradition of the drug movie, and the Safdies have acknowledged the influence of such films as “<b>Panic in Needle Park</b>,” “<b>Naked</b>,” and “<b>Kids</b>” in its making. But it is also entirely its own thing: a unique melding of social issues drama, autobiography, arthouse experiment and music video, marked out by totally committed performances (Jones and Holmes will get the press but Duress is also extremely impressive as Mike). Finally, it is an unusually insightful New York City film, with these homeless, drifting people making the very streets their living rooms, and acting out the most intimate of moments in overlit ATM foyers and public parks.<br /><br /> Occasionally a strident, difficult watch, “Heaven Knows What” is nonetheless a truthful, specific film that might not change the world, or even want to; that is not its crusade. But for a little more than an hour and a half it performs nearly as valuable and as difficult a service: it gives back to people, who on the rare occasions they’re even seen onscreen are usually deprived of any agency at all, at least a little ownership of their stories. [B+/A-]<br /> Mon, 27 Oct 2014 20:05:00 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-27T20:05:00Z Tokyo Film Festival Review: Smart, Blunt, Emotionally Bruising Bulgarian Drama ‘The Lesson’ As gripping as a thriller and as squirm-inducing as a horror film, the debut feature from Bulgarian co-directors <b>Kristina Grozeva</b> and <b>Petar Valchanov </b>may ostensibly be a work of social realist fiction, but it’s not for the faint of heart and not for those whose arthouse sensibilities tend toward the delicate or the subtle. The<b> Tokyo International Film Festival </b>competition title is a blunt force trauma of a morality play, landing blow upon blow on a central character who is simply struggling to keep her head above water with a shred of dignity intact —if the film is a teacher, it's one who believes in the value of a sharp cuff around the head as an educational technique. Yet there is no real physical violence on display here; the real achievement of the movie, an especially impressive one coming from filmmakers of relatively little experience, is that as a viewer you may flinch, quail and end up practically hiding behind your hands, but those visceral reactions are in response to the emotional and psychological damage being inflicted onscreen. Depending on your tolerance for the good-people-in-ever-worsening-situations school of cinema, “<b>The Lesson</b>” is either be a provocative statement about how our ideals and identities can begin to crumble and fray in the face of extraordinary pressure or an all-out ordeal. But there’s no denying it makes an impact, and that Grozeva and Valchanov thoroughly deserve their San Sebastian win for Best New Directors.<br /><br /> It starts with a pop, as English teacher Nade (<b>Margarita Gosheva</b>), gets the children in her class to parse the English sentence “Someone has just stolen my wallet” as a way to let them know that in fact one of them has just stolen her wallet. Her stern but calm approach to stemming this pilfering might make us think that it’s an innocuous event, yet the leaden way it’s shot and the way the camera hovers just slightly too long through each uncomfortable silence, transmits volumes of foreshadowing. And soon we learn that while the sum stolen from Nade may seem trifling, in fact her financial straits are so dire that at one point we will see her scrabble in public fountain for a few <i>leva</i>. Threatened with foreclosure on the family home where she lives with her ineffectual, weak-willed husband and young daughter, saddled with a broken camper van no one will buy and repeatedly given excuses from her other job as an English translator as to when she’ll get paid, Nade’s situation becomes desperate, and working against a very loudly ticking clock, she eventually seeks out a loan shark.<br /><br /> But what sets “The Lesson” apart from other miserabilist takes on the plight of the working poor is the very precise way it deals with liminality and how morals and ideals can fracture in the Wild West frontierlands of our social identities. Nade is being pushed to the very lowest threshold of the middle class life she’s led till now into an impossible limbo in which the threat of abject poverty may be very real, but the mortification of “mere” social embarrassment still retains its power. Nade is respectable, well-educated, and above all&nbsp;<i>decent</i>. It feels like a mistake that she of all people should be somehow caught up in the machinations of a faceless, uncaring system, and yet the frightening ease with which that happens suggests it could happen to any of us. Nade’s story at times feels almost designed to give us a sense of the precipice over which so many of us blithely hover: what if we were suddenly forced to look down?<br /><br /> The nearest equivalent we can think of for Nade’s journey is that of the <b>Marion Cotillard </b>character in the <b>Dardenne </b>Brothers’ <b>Cannes </b>favorite “<b>Two Days One Night</b>.” Both films feature women who have to embark on an odyssey of self-abasement, pride-swallowing and all-out grovelling in order to keep the wolf of poverty and total social marginalization from the door. But if anything, this Bulgarian film goes further than the Belgian, turning the screws even a few more times and ending on a far more ambivalent note. Nade may have survived but has sacrificed so much of her moral identity along the way that she is no longer who she was, least of all in her own eyes.<br /><br /> These later twists could easily feel like a contrivance or two too far (though the final coup de grace was apparently the real-life kernel from which the screenplay grew), but by that stage we’re so far down the rabbit hole, have endured so many Kafka-like nightmare situations and have waded through so many thorny ethical quagmires with Nade that we can’t help but go along with them. Due in no small part to Gosheva’s magnificently un-self-pitying central performance, the film may strain credulity from a coldly logical standpoint at times, but its emotional and psychological realism are airtight. So as a series of choose-your-own-adventure style dilemmas (it’s to the screenplay’s credit that only rarely did we find ourselves thinking “well, I wouldn’t handle it <i>that</i> way”) it’s a story of inexorable decline that remains compelling and engaging rather than outright depressing. And as a fable, or a ‘lesson,’ it’s a clever, lean exploration of the sometimes surprising priorities you hold when your back is to the wall: which of your ideals will hold out when unjust push comes to desperate shove, and which will be the first you sacrifice. [B+]<br /><br /> Mon, 27 Oct 2014 13:05:00 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-27T13:05:00Z Tokyo Film Festival Review: French-Language Crime Flick ‘The Connection’ Starring Jean Dujardin Translated as “<b>The Connection</b>” for English markets and its post-<b>Toronto</b> bow here at the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival</b>, but running under the title of “<b>La French</b>” at home, it seems an effort is being made to link the new <i>policier</i> from French director<b> Cedric Jimenez</b> to its famous forebear, <b>William Friedkin</b>’s certified classic “<b>The French Connection</b>.” But the story has minimal overlap with that of Popeye Doyle &amp; co, and the comparison might ultimately be to this film’s detriment. A lot of the virtues of Friedkin's movie<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4d49-3921-1741-a728f774a3fa">—</span>the lean, muscular masculinity, the grit and lived-in grime<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4d49-3921-1741-a728f774a3fa">—</span>are absent from this much more lavish, lengthy crime flick, which only occasionally travels to U.S. shores, and is set in 1975, four years after “The French Connection” was even released. Which kind of warps the mind to think about<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4d49-3921-1741-a728f774a3fa">—</span>the characters in the film, when they refer to the “French Connection” are meant to be talking about the notorious real-life drug ring that linked Turkey, France, and the U.S. in an international heroin-based game of pass-the-parcel, but they could plausibly just be major <b>Gene Hackman</b> fans. That’s perhaps a little facetious, but it is indicative of the film’s central issue: so much of it refers to other films<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4d49-3921-1741-a728f774a3fa">—</span>it’s more or less a test-tube baby composed of equal parts “<b>Goodfellas</b>,” “<b>The</b> <b>Godfather</b>,” “<b>Heat</b>,” and “<b>Scarface</b>”<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4d49-3921-1741-a728f774a3fa">—</span>that the whole enterprise can’t help but feel a little ersatz, with its fetishizable fashions and Marseillaise locations somehow even further working to insulate the movie from the true story it purports to tell. <br /><br /> But that’s not to say it is without pleasures. Those self-same snappy duds and classic cars (revel in the majesty of the glorious Citroen DS) are exceptionally easy on the eye, especially when accessorized by the suave likes of <b>Jean Dujardin</b>, who plays the pioneering magistrate engaged in a years-long pursuit of a local drug kingpin (<b>Gilles Lellouche</b>, himself no slouch in the clotheshorse department). The locations and other period detailing are often stunning, with one particular moment serving to add “wear halterneck dress on speedboat across rock-lined Cote d’Azur bay” to this writer’s bucket list. However, as an actual cop/gangster movie, or indeed as an actual true crime tale, the film falls far short of the touchstone movies it so frequently and obviously mimics (there are entire nightclub scenes that feel constantly on the verge of panning past Tony Montana) allowing the pacing to flag often over the course of its too-long runtime, and assuming we’re more invested in the fates of certain characters than it has ever given us reason to be.<br /><br />The story begins with a local juvenile court magistrate, Pierre Michel (Dujardin), whom we already know is the crusading, incorruptible sort by the compassionate personal interest he takes in a young junkie called Lily, as he is given a major promotion to head up the organized crime task force. The big noise in the Marseillaise drug trade (and therefore the man ultimately responsible for “La French” as well as for Lily’s untimely but motivationally convenient death) is the Neapolitan Gaetano “Tany” Zampa (Lellouche), but the entrenched nature of his mafia-esque organization means he is beyond Michel’s reach, at least initially. Instead, he goes after Zampa’s lieutenants, earning first the grudging respect and then the all-out hero worship of the police under his command when he proves himself an adherent of the “end justifying the means” school of thought. Illegal wiretaps, arrests without proper warrants, unsanctioned surveillance<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4d49-3921-1741-a728f774a3fa">—</span>Michel authorizes them all, and a smarter, less obvious film might make something of those moral compromises. But this is not that film, and Michel’s scant respect for due process is put forth by Jimenez (also the film’s co-writer) as a further reason to cheer him from the sidelines. <br /><br /> From there, the film wends its way through every single gangster/crime flick trope in the book<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4d49-3921-1741-a728f774a3fa">—</span>intra-mob rivalry, the ruthless treatment of traitors and informants, police corruption that is then discovered to go “right to the very top.” And the way many of the set pieces are staged feels familiar too. A particular scene is cross-cut so as to mislead us into thinking the drug lab is on the premises being raided when of course it is not, and of course we know it’s not, having seen a film or two before this one. <br /><br /> Part of the issue is that all of its handsome period work, skillful handheld photography, and homagistic filmmaking (which needn’t necessarily be an issue<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4d49-3921-1741-a728f774a3fa">—</span>Jimenez is borrowing from the best, after all) is really put in service of the kind of central cat-and-mouse battle of wits that requires there to be some parity between the nemeses. And Jimenez has clearly watched both “Heat” and “<b>American Gangster</b>,” and engineers an extremely contrived sequence which exists purely to get his bad guy and his good guy alone on a hillside, exchanging hardboiled world views and veiled threats. But Dujardin is an actor whose talents (and eyebrows) seem more suited to light comedy, and as such is no <b>Pacino</b>, nor even a <b>Russell Crowe.</b> Lellouche is better in a reptilian<b> Liam Neeson</b> sort of way, but the film is too straightfaced in its focus on the good guy as the hero, and so we get a lot of classic stuff about the hard life of a dedicated cop (he confesses to having previously been a gambling addict, and at one point his wife leaves him and takes the kids) without ever really feeling the character’s inner conflict. Which is signaled mainly by the dishevelment of his hair anyway. <br /><br /> “The Connection” is certainly watchable, and highly marketable, what with having Dujardin’s name above the title and the whole Friedkin angle to mine. And its beats and rhythms are entirely, comfortingly familiar to anyone conversant with U.S. cinema, so even the stigma of subtitles shouldn’t seriously impact its reception whenever Drafthouse, who acquired it recently, chooses to release it stateside. But like the peppy soundtrack cuts of American songs sung in French (“These Boots are Made for Walkin’” being one) “The Connection” feels at best like a cover version of the classic American crime films of the 1970s, and at worst like so much glossily mounted karaoke. [C]<br /><br /> Sun, 26 Oct 2014 13:30:21 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-26T13:30:21Z Tokyo Film Festival: John Lasseter Turns "Cool Japan" Talk Into Heartfelt Tribute To Hayao Miyazaki The woman three seats down from me had a Woody The Cowboy doll whose arm she waved excitedly whenever the<b> Disney/Pixar </b>head honcho said anything she particularly agreed with (which happened a lot, but with a four second delay for translation). The guy next to her was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt in subtler homage to the visiting dignitary’s trademark penchant for same. And the young woman between us wore a miniskirt emblazoned with an entire “<b>Spider-Man</b>” comic paired with clashing cartoon Converse and pantyhose dotted with hearts and Mickey Mouses. Ok, she was a little off-brief, but at least she was exuberantly so. Welcome to the <i>press area </i>for the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival</b> talk from amiable animation genius <b>John Lasseter</b>, formerly of <b>Disney</b>, founding member of <b>Pixar</b>, now Chief Creative Officer of Disney/Pixar. He was in town (if you can call the vast, intricate megalopolis of Tokyo a town) wearing two hats: to deliver a talk on “Cool Japan,” and also to stump for the latest Disney animation, of which he is Executive Producer, the extremely lovable “<b>Big Hero 6</b>,<b>”</b> which opened the Festival on Thursday (<a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">here's our review</a>).<br /><br />Lasseter’s talk, however, was anything but corporate. Admitting initially that he accepted the invitation without necessarily working out what it was he was going to say, the hour-long address was more of a fireside chat, a very anecdotal, informal speech peppered with a few relevant clips and a host of personal photographs, the snapshot mementos of a decades-long love affair with Tokyo<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-48ae-040c-8c40-d5e07550fa23">—</span>and with one of its most internationally famous residents. <br /><br /> Lasseter’s relationship with the films of <b>Hayao Miyazaki </b>(<a class="" href="" target="_blank" title="Link:">whose brilliant filmography we ourselves recently ranked</a>)&nbsp;started a long time before he ever met the great man. Already a little disillusioned with the working culture at Disney, where he started as an animator after college, Lasseter was looking to create “animation for everybody,” not just for kids<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-48ae-040c-8c40-d5e07550fa23">—</span>animation that could thrill and entertain all ages, the way then-recent blockbuster “<b>Star Wars</b>” had. And the first example he saw of anyone really attempting that was when a visiting team from <b>TMS Studios </b>in Tokyo showed a few slices of what would be Miyazaki’s first feature film: “<b>Lupin the Third: Castle of Cagliostro</b>.” Lasseter spoke of his awe at the first Miyakai clip he ever saw<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-48ae-040c-8c40-d5e07550fa23">—</span>the car chase sequence from ‘Cagliostro’<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-48ae-040c-8c40-d5e07550fa23">—</span>and a sense of the discovery of a kindred spirit, then shared that very clip with the audience, insisting on a round of applause when it was over gasping “That. Was. Awesome!” Indeed, he also credits that clip with winning him his wife Nancy; he showed it to her on their first date. They married in 1988 and now have five kids. <br /><br />So the real revelation of the talk was the nature and depth of Lasseter’s friendship with Miyazaki. Falling hard for Tokyo the first time he came (cue candid pictures of a svelter, younger Lasseter posing by Suntory vending machines and shops that sell plastic display food) he finally met Miyazaki in 1987. On November 11th, to be exact, a date he knows because it was immortalized by the<b> Studio Ghibli </b>master when he signed and dated a work-in-progress poster for the film that would become “<b>My Neighbor Totoro</b>.” The framed print still hangs in Lasseter’s office, and with a little catch in his voice he explained that part of his attachment to it was that handwritten date: so seldom do we have a record of the exact time and place that something so meaningful begins. <br /><br /> There was a lot of endearing geeking out. “Just look at that!” marveled Lasseter, showing us an off-the-cuff snap he’d taken of Miyazaki (always a very handsome, dapper man) working on concept art for the great “<b>Princess Mononoke</b>.” Or saying, “I’m not sure I was supposed to take this one…” over a photo of a vast wall of exquisitely hand-drawn storyboard frames. The Lasseter family’s Christmas card photo one year was the whole brood perched on the enormous plush toy version of Catbus in the Ghibli museum. Over an image of his laserdisc of “<b>Laputa: Castle in the Sky</b>” Lasseter spoke of how a rescue sequence in “<b>A Bug’s Life</b>” was inspired by a scene from ‘Laputa.' And with evident pride, he showed a picture of the replica head of the Ghibli Museum Catbus, wearing the grin that Lasseter claims accurately is Miyazaki’s own, mounted onto a display plaque like a hunting trophy, smiling down from the walls of Pixar. To this day, claimed Lasseter, “whenever we [at Pixar] get stuck, we watch some Miyazaki.”<br /><br /> He identified three main reasons for his love of the man's work: his “celebration of the quiet moments,” his “ability to define character through action,” and his eye for detail, especially the minute moments that make someone “uniquely different.” Then he showed us a clip that demonstrated all three of those tenets in abundance<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-48ae-040c-8c40-d5e07550fa23">—</span>the sequence from ‘Totoro’ with the sisters waiting in the rain at the bus stop when Totoro sidles up to them and eventually Catbus arrives. It’s a scene we remembered, but seeing it through the prism of Lasseter’s admiration was special. Suddenly you notice the tiny things, like the way the umbrella slips when she picks her sister up on her back, or the extended quiet moments with the frog, or, as Lasseter pointed out, the detailing of the turn signals above Catbus’ head/windshield<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-48ae-040c-8c40-d5e07550fa23">—</span>they are mounted, glowy-eyed mice, because of course they are.<br /><br /> These days, Lasseter is not only involved with Miyazaki as a fan and a friend, but he also offers official and unofficial help with the U.S. market adaptation and distribution of his works. He counts the&nbsp;Best Animated Film <b>Oscar</b> for &quot;<b>Spirited Away</b>&quot; as one of his own proudest achievements, because for a long time he’d felt the translation and repackaging of Miyazaki’s work, especially in the U.S., had not been up to scratch, and “Spirited Away” was his hands-on attempt to change that. <br /><br /> Most convincingly, perhaps, Lasseter then drew his talk back to the topic at hand, “Cool Japan,” by locating exactly what it is that those first trips to Tokyo, his own creative approach and that of Hayao Miyazaki have in common<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-48ae-040c-8c40-d5e07550fa23">—</span>what he finds so “cool”. As his snapshots of geishas walking past escalators and temple gardens nestling in high rise districts prove, Tokyo is a place where the old comfortably sits alongside the new (it's the literal truth: Tokyo is a miraculous melange of so-modern-it’s-futurist, ramshackle antique, and anciently beautiful). In the work of Miyazaki he finds the same impulse to keep one foot in tradition but to combine those classic storytelling elements in ever more creative exciting new ways. And Pixar, Lasseter paralleled, was founded on the principle of applying the newest CG technology to the process of animating classic, rigorously structured stories. <br /><br /> There are not many people we can imagine using this hour of soapbox time to talk primarily about the work and influence of a contemporary, but John Lasseter today proved that it is not just through the medium of toys that come to life that he has the power to bring a lump to the throat. His lovely talk, which culminated with a side-by-side picture of the yellow Fiat 500 Miyazaki’s heroine in ‘Cagliostro’ drives and the remarkably similar character of Luigi from “<b>Cars</b>,” built to a moving portrait of a cherished, mutually nourishing friendship between two men separated by geography, culture, language, tradition<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-48ae-040c-8c40-d5e07550fa23">—</span>by everything except their boundless talent for animation, and the infectious love of a great story. It’s a rare treat to be able to hear one titan of his industry talk with such humility and warm affection of another, but the sincerity was palpable when Lasseter concluded by thanking Japan, and Hayao Miyazaki “for making me who I am.”<br /><br /> Sat, 25 Oct 2014 16:56:56 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-25T16:56:56Z Tokyo Film Festival Review: Ann Hui’s Visually Lustrous, Dramatically Lax Biopic ‘The Golden Era’ If you already know your oats about 20th-Century Chinese literature, you will no doubt already know of <b>Xiao Hong</b>, the immensely respected female novelist, poet, and short story writer, and may indeed be anxious to glimpse behind the veil of her canonical works at the woman within. If you do not, however, you may wonder why you are spending three-hours of your life trundling after this painfully self-serious character as she is buffeted by the fickle winds of fate and her own, often self-defeating, will across the divided, war torn, and finally occupied China of the 1930s and ‘40s. <b>Ann Hui’</b>s film &quot;<b>The Golden Era</b>&quot; was an odd choice to close the <b>Venice Film Festival </b>(to muted reaction), but feels like it may play a little better in the context of the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival</b>,<b> </b>with its focus on pan-Asian cinema. But it still does not work for the obtuse Westerners in the audience, like ourselves, who could well have done with a little less self-involved angst and a little more context as to why this story truly needed to be told.<br /><br /> Hui’s filmmaking is solid, with standard-issue epic biopic cinematography creating a good sense of period and place, though the mood is set constantly to &quot;doomy foreshadowing of tragedy.&quot; She even puts a semi-experimentalist twist on proceedings by having her actors, in character, frequently address camera directly as though they are being interviewed about Xiao Hong<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-489f-42bb-6f11-aafce9cc7385">—</span>indeed Xiao Hong (“<b>Lust Caution</b>” actress&nbsp;<b>Tang Wei</b>) introduces the film herself, “<b>Sunset Boulevard</b>”-style, by announcing the date of her death. But these are meta flourishes on a film which for the most part is enervatingly classic in format: stately, reverential despite the conflicting accounts the various narrators give of Hong's motivations, and often quite dull, despite its focus not on her work or talent but on the more salacious and controversial aspects of her personal life. This last factor is most problematic for the Xiao Hong neophytes in the audience<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-489f-42bb-6f11-aafce9cc7385">—</span>entirely contrary to the film’s presumed intention to increase our admiration for a formidably independent-minded woman living a tragically short life through the most trying of circumstances, Hui’s Hong is diminished by this treatment, her struggles reduced almost exclusively to relationship issues, and her strong willed individualism often coming across as mere petulance.<br /><br /> Xiao Hong died, as the film tells us at the outset, in 1942 in Japanese-occupied Hong Kong, when she finally succumbed to the tuberculosis she’d been suffering from for some time. She was just 30-years-old, but over that paltry three decades of existence she criss-crossed China, Hong Kong, and Japan (living a while in Tokyo), outran hardship, lived by her wits and resourcefulness, and engaged in a passionate, high-drama love affair with fellow writer<b> Xiao Jun</b> (<b>Feng</b> <b>Shaofeng</b>) with whom she published several short story collections. While the idea that pretty much every man who came across her fell in love with her is given definite credibility by the beauty and charisma of Tang Wei in the role, her decisions as regards those relationships<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-489f-42bb-6f11-aafce9cc7385">—</span>whom she’ll leave, whom she’ll marry, whom she’ll pine for<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-489f-42bb-6f11-aafce9cc7385">—</span>remain frustratingly opaque, and her agency is therefore too often rendered as mere capriciousness. Of course, the society into which&nbsp;she was born and through which she blazed quite a trail was not one in which female self-expression was given a great deal of leeway, but again this feels like it should enlarge the import of these details of her life, not reduce it.<br /><br /> The film soon settles into its rather numbing, episodic rhythm, detailing Xiao Hong’s encounters with mentors, friends, and lovers from her earliest memories of her kindly grandpa, to her writer husband and the friend of her brother’s who were the ones present at her death. Though even with this plodding approach to pacing it’s often a little confusing as to where we are in time and how long has elapsed since the last scene.<br /><br /> The disappointment of Hui’s film did have us asking some interesting questions about the nature of greatness though, and how the biopic genre can serve or fail to serve its subjects. If you didn’t know anything about, say, <b>James Joyce</b> or <b>John Lennon</b>, and had no idea of the importance of their artistic legacy, would a film that concentrated solely on their private lives, shorn of context, simply end up also being a portrait of a bafflingly self-absorbed person? Very probably, was the conclusion we arrived at, and &quot;The Golden Era&quot; is a case in point. The real woman was apparently a thrillingly talented pioneer who wrote several still-beloved works of fiction and fictionalized autobiography, but Hui’s approach, which assumes a built in knowledge and appreciation for Xiao Hong’s legacy on the part of the audience, is so anxious to look at the woman behind the myth that we found ourselves scrabbling for outside resources to bullet point that myth for us in the first place. It’s a good sign when a biopic drives you to discover more about its subject; not so good when it steers you to a Wikipedia-level basic source to find out who in hell she actually <i>was.</i>&nbsp;Her creative life was key, but&nbsp;the thorny relationships the film focuses on are almost exclusively with men, seldom with women, and only very rarely with her muse.<br /><br />Here Hui, better known for her Hong Kong dramas dealing in the nature of class, sexuality, ageism, and unemployment among other contemporary issues, gives herself a fighting shot with the glossiness of the package, and its prestigey period trappings, at the kind of crossover hit that international arthouse aficionados might embrace. Sadly &quot;The Golden Era&quot; is that opportunity squandered<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-489f-42bb-6f11-aafce9cc7385">—</span>it may play very well in China, but what does it serve the rest of us to experience this fascinating woman’s life rendered as little more than slow-moving historical soap opera? [C-]<br /><br /> Sat, 25 Oct 2014 16:45:17 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-25T16:45:17Z Tokyo Film Festival Review: Edmund Yeo’s Promising Feature Debut 'River Of Exploding Durians' By contrast with the title, which might evoke fast-flowing cascades and fruit-based fireworks, <b>Edmund Yeo’</b>s debut feature, &quot;<b>River of Exploding Durians</b>,&quot; is a film of much stiller waters. But they run deep, with ideas heady and peculiar enough that, if you have the patience, you could well identify in the Malaysian Yeo a promising new auteurist voice in the Slow Cinema movement. Playing in competition at the <b>Tokyo International Film Festival,</b>&nbsp;'Durians' is marred by stylistic issues characteristic of an inexperienced filmmaker with perhaps only faltering visual confidence (far too many tortuous pans across empty spaces between actual points of interest). But the fundamentals of performance and scripting are solid, occasionally exceptional.<br /><br /> In fact, one lofty comparison point that occurred to us was with <b>Andrei Konchalovsky’</b>s <b>Venice</b> winner “<b>The Postman’s White Nights</b>,<b>”</b> which is also a slow-moving drama undercut by weirder and more uncanny goings-on beneath the surface. Like the Russian film, Yeo’s feature is concerned with the relationship of people to place, albeit with a more overtly lyrical than social realist bent. Also like in the Konchalovsky film, there is a certain cool distance maintained as we observe his characters’ behavior from a kind of alien’s-eye point of view, drawing odd parallels between details that on a logical, left-brain level, bear little apparent connection.<br /><br /> The film is unusually, intuitively structured to feature three different protagonists over its 128-minute run time. While all three are female, the thread that links them is a high school-age boy, Ming (<b>Shern Koe</b>)<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4891-c005-926c-537cea2ecf48">—</span>they are his sometime girlfriend, his classmate, and his schoolteacher, respectively. Initially, it seems to be a tale of young love, as Ming spends time mooning over the childhood friend he now loves, Mei Ann (<b>Joey Leong</b>). But sinister notes are introduced early: an adventurous ramble ends in the discovery of a rotting boar corpse; the peculiarly wise-before-her-years Mei Ann has bouts of nausea; her father, barely managing to provide for her and her two younger siblings as a fisherman, is worried that the fish are no longer biting, and the ones he does catch have been making his customers ill. Nearby a rare earth plant is under construction and there is a low-level paranoia about what it might be doing to the local area. After an abortive lovers-on-the-run moment when Mei Ann threatens to marry someone else and Ming confesses his real feelings, the narrative shifts to focus on a schoolmate of the pair, Hui Ling (<b>Daphne Low</b>), an issues-engaged teacher’s pet-type who is organizing a student petition against the plant. A lot of Hui Ling’s fervor is derived from the commitment of her favorite teacher, Teacher Lim (<b>Zhu-Zhi-ying</b>), an idealistic and inspiring young woman whose own opposition to the plant takes a darker and violent turn as the film shifts again to focus on her.<br /><br /> Apparently Yeo based the screenplay on the true story of a Malaysian seaside town’s protest against a potentially radioactive plant nearby. But rather than documenting the events from a realist point of view, the film incorporates strange textures and deliberately off-key notes to create a sense of general unease, one that perhaps owes more of a debt to post-MH370 Malaysian paranoia and suspicion than it does to the pages of any newspaper. Not only is authority fundamentally untrustworthy, but there is always more going on than we know, the film suggests, and an evocation of that ignorance contributes an enigmatic air to the film that verges on the mystical.<br /><br /> It unfolds so slowly, and weaves its tapestry with such minute incremental adjustments, that the violent action, when it occurs, is jarring. But this considered pacing also serves to magnify the performances, especially of the female protagonists, who have the tricky job of negotiating Yeo’s balance of real-world commentary and otherworldly lyricism. All three are extremely strong and believable in their highly individualized, idiosyncratic roles, with Yeo to be commended on eliciting performances of such maturity and poise. If that balance does sometimes wobble as the film consistently favors poetry over drama, it’s probably again just a factor of his neophyte nerves, nothing that a bit more practice and a more judicious editing process can’t fix.<br /><br /> Finally, Yeo’s insider’s perspective on modern Chinese-speaking Malaysia (there are small moments of social observation when we notice the class distinction between those who speak Bahasa Malaysia and those who converse in Mandarin) would be a valuable one even without the flourishes that his approach brings. A volatile mixture of cultures, religions, and languages, it is not a society that is particularly open to critique (a permit is required for gatherings of five people or more, which is why Teacher Lim’s anti-plant pressure group has to meet in secret), so even embarking on this film required a certain amount of bravery. But mostly, Yeo is one to watch for his developing cinematic voice<span id="docs-internal-guid-3550cf1e-4891-c005-926c-537cea2ecf48">—</span>the filmmaking technique is not quite there yet, but “River of Exploding Durians” displays remarkable assurance when it comes to character building and storytelling, amounting to a clear-headed yet evocative essay on how the strictures of that particular society and culture can act as a mask, beneath which a person’s real intent and real feelings remain fundamentally unknowable. [B]<br /><br /> Sat, 25 Oct 2014 16:25:39 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-25T16:25:39Z Tokyo Film Festival Review: Disney’s ‘Big Hero 6’ The Playlist’s first ever visit to the&nbsp;<b>Tokyo International Film Festival&nbsp;</b>could scarcely have got off to a more appropriate start than with the World Premiere of the new film from&nbsp;<b>Walt Disney Animation Studios</b>: “<b>Big Hero 6</b>” from directors<b>&nbsp;Don Hall</b>&nbsp;(“<b>Winnie the Pooh</b>”) and&nbsp;<b>Chris Williams</b>&nbsp;(“<b>Bolt</b>”).&nbsp;&nbsp;After all, we’re a U.S.-based publication journeying across the world to experience our first Asian festival, and one of the overriding themes of the film is cross-cultural hybridization —it's set in a fictionalized melange of two iconic cities (see if you can guess which ones), the near-future metropolis of San Fransokyo. But there are also corporate cultures meeting here for the first time: this is a Disney film based on a <b>Marvel</b>&nbsp;comic book property, and while it’s definitely a Hollywood film, it wears its manga influences on its sleeve with foregrounded pride. And for the most part, the admixture is intoxicating, skillfully grafting the clean, familiar but still effective emotional throughlines of classic Disney storytelling onto the interesting topography of this more recent, Japanese-inflected terrain. In fact, inasmuch as “<b>Frozen</b>” amounted to Disney reinventing their traditional gender politics, “Big Hero 6” can in some ways be seen as the studio addressing its historical reputation for ethnic homogeneity and cultural appropriation. Addressing it in the form of a big, lovably goofy, marshmallow-shaped robot nurse called Baymax.<br /><br /> Hiro Hamada (<b>Ryan Potter</b>) is a 14-year-old robotics prodigy, orphaned along with his elder brother Tadashi (<b>Daniel Henney</b>) when he was just three and left in care of his Aunt Cass (<b>Maya Rudolph</b>). Hiro wastes his significant brainpower grifting local robot fights while Tadashi, by contrast, studies at university, designing a cuddly, caregiving robot nurse/doctor/diagnostician called Baymax (<b>Scott</b> <b>Adsit</b>). Tadashi shares a lab with four other self-described “nerds” (though there’s really no sense that the word has any negative connotations), a conveniently Benetton-diverse group, each of whom has their &quot;thing&quot;: Gogo (<b>Jamie</b> <b>Chung</b>) is a feisty goth-y engineering genius; Wasabi (<b>Damon Wayans Jr</b>) is a neat freak and neurotic laser specialist; Honey Lemon (<b>Genesis Rodriguez</b>) is a preternaturally talented chemist; while Fred (<b>TJ Miller</b>) is the dropout college mascot/motormouth who occupies the wisecracking sidekick role here (often rather irritatingly). When Hiro sees all the cool stuff they’re up to, he goes all out to impress the visionary Professor Callaghan (<b>James</b> <b>Cromwell</b>) so that he’ll let him join the class. But the very night of his triumph, the lab burns down and Tadashi, who rushes in to save Callaghan, is killed.<br /><br /> This is only the beginning of a extremely involved plot that sees Hiro learn about five lessons per minute regarding friendship, being true to yourself, grief, teamwork, the duty of creative genius, morality, the emptiness of revenge etc, etc. It’s often heady stuff for a Disney movie, and the film shows an admirable willingness to go to some dark places (a scene where the gang ends up driving off a pier and getting trapped in a car underwater feels unusually real-world perilous) in order to map Hiro’s inevitable and constant embrace of what’s right and, ultimately, heroic. But the sheer number of lessons that Hiro has to learn means that the film takes on a rather episodic quality; a lot of little battles rather that one grand arc. And in constantly introducing new strands of plot and subplot, something’s gotta give, and that something is the characterization of the paper-thin supporting players, as well as dialogue which veers from prosaic to eye-rollingly on-the-nose. Furthermore, this overstuffed quality makes it sometimes feel like the directors aren't aware that the real gold is in the relationship between Hiro and Baymax, who, having been designed by Tadashi and remaining active after his death, becomes a touching proxy for Hiro’s beloved sibling. Baymax has been programmed solely to ease pain and becomes pet, companion, helpmate and ultimately superhero in an effort to heal a little boy who is otherwise unable to process his vast, wrenching grief. At moments, “Big Hero 6” threatens to vie with “<b>Up</b>” for Most Touching Animated Film About The Grieving Process, but then something new and noisy distracts us. <br /><br /> However, the design of the film is pretty much flawless. And along with the the wonderfully detailed rendering of San Fransokyo, with streetcars hung with paper lanterns and its Asian-ified Golden Gate Bridge, it’s the conception of Baymax that is the film’s greatest treat. Beautifully conceived as a device of pure goodness, he’s basically a huge balloon animal, moving with believable physics (and even squeaky balloon noises) and repairing himself with sellotape when he springs leaks. From the way he sidles bashfully out from too-small spaces, to the way he learns how to fist bump (there are definite shades of the young John Connor/Terminator relationship at times), to the extended sequence in which he is essentially rendered drunk by a draining battery, Baymax might be Disney’s most wholly adorable creation ever, and that's surely saying something.<br /><br /> But outside the design, the animation and the laudable attempt to meld different storytelling and graphic traditions, the film is on slightly shakier ground. The story morphs from one thing to another rather too often, and a few nice flourishes are marred by reintroduction and lack of subtlety. The first time we hear Gogo say “woman up!” it’s a fun if obvious nod to female empowerment, but the second time it’s an empty catchphrase. Similarly, a glimpse at a portrait on the wall of Fred’s mansion is a fun easter egg for Marvel fans that is rendered moot by an extended post-credits scene. And we can’t ignore the absolutely godawful specially-commissioned <b>Fall Out Boy </b>track “<b>Immortal</b>,” which is slathered all over a montage and then wails over the end credits, disrupting the otherwise solid if unmemorable work of <b>Henry Jackman</b>’s score. How much any of this might impact the kids in the audience we can't really say —in fact, the restlessness of the story might well work to keep their attention (in general it feels like it skews slightly older than 'Frozen'), and hopefully one single, borderline unlistenable pop-punk dirge will not an army of pint-sized emos make.&nbsp;<br /><br /> Egregious soundtrack missteps aside, “Big Hero 6” is truly glorious to look at and comprises a mostly beguiling mixture of genres, story strands and cultures, though it remains a mixture rather than a wholly seamless synthesis. Otherwise, whatever flaws it has are ones of over-enthusiasm and over-ambition and are therefore easy to forgive, especially because when it works, it <i>really</i> works [read: there were tears]. It’s a film that clearly has had lots of care lavished on almost every aspect of its conception and execution, and to echo a weighted phrase frequently returned to, to various levels of heart-tugging effect: with “Big Hero 6” I am satisfied with my care. You, and any bright-eyed moppets of your acquaintance, probably will be too. [B/B+]<br /><br /> <iframe width="680" height="385" src="//" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe> <iframe width="680" height="385" src="//" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe> <iframe width="680" height="385" src="//" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe> <iframe width="680" height="385" src="//" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe> Thu, 23 Oct 2014 13:00:00 GMT Jessica Kiang 2014-10-23T13:00:00Z