LEFFEST – Lisboa & Sintra Film Festival 2019

We at Camera Coverage have been attending to the 2019 edition of the biggest film festival in Portugal and thought of speaking a little bit about the films we have been able to see. We got our heads around the whole section of the films in competition to the festival’s awards, and some of the new releases on other sections of the festival. Between all of these we thought of making our brief selection of films that are for us the highlights of the festival. Also, from Wednesday forth we are thinking of making more focused texts on what we think is our favourite of the festival, and the films that were awarded by the selected jury of the festival – that are to be announced in the 24^th of November.

For our list we have picked three highlights from the festival selection in the competition.

Atlantis, by Valentyn Vasyanovych

This year’s competition was packed with two films from the old Eastern Block that find themselves in somewhat the same category. These are The Criminal Man, by Dmitry Mamuliya and the afforementioned Atlantis, by Valentyn Vasyanovych. Both of these films are paced with care and drag the viewer into a very slow pacing, being easy to put them in what some call the “slow-cinema” category. However, while Atlantis presents consisted cathartic and poetic imagery, The Criminal Man seems to be a film in which there is a great central scene – arguably greater than any scene in Atlantis – and feeling a bit empty in comparison. Atlantis is a film that has its setting in a dystopic post-war Ukraine, following a main character suffering from PTSD. There are many scenes of despair, many moments where we may be led to think that Vasyanovych really has no hope for his country and his people after the consequences of the war. By the end though, we are faced with this flash of light, as poetically depicted as any of the shades of grey previously presented in the film, that remind us that the power of love and humanity is strong enough, not only to be reborn from the remnants of such war, but I would even say taht there is here a suggestion that this light may even prevent us from falling into this dark utopia if we keep it close to us.

Beanpole [Dylda], by Kantemir Balagov

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Arguably one of the most talked about films in the festival scene, Kantemir Balagov’s Beanpole deserves every bit of the attention it has received. The film deals with a plethora of complex themes, and presents them with, however extreme, 100% believable situations. The fluid sense we have – much of it provided by a sober set and art design – between all of these is impressive. From war trauma, to poverty, to complex romantic and motherhood dynamics, Beanpole seems to gather all of this seamlessly. It is a beautifully shot film, with a strong sense of colour and aesthetics, including a dynamic camera that switches from being handheld and really shaky to fluidity and steadiness at a pace that is hard to notice as we are mesmerized with everything that is being portrayed. The sense of pathos in Beanpole is the probably one of the strongest from the festival, and the performances are certainly the most convincing. A cinematic treat for the eyes, and an always important reminder of what extremes can the human soul deal with.

Fire Will Come [O Que Arde], by Oliver Laxe

fire will come

A personal favourite of ours, O Que Arde by Oliver Laxe is one of the most subtle and gentle depictions of the complex nature of human beings. Between the beautiful landscapes of Galicia and their absolute destruction there are humans and their complex, but nonetheless consequential, relationships. We follow Amador through his journey back home from being imprisoned for causing a massive forest fire in his region. He deals with his everyday chores in the countryside, next to his mother Benedita – a charming powerhouse of a 80 year old woman. There is a sense of silence and of the ephemeral throughout the whole of the film, despite the absolute chaos that is the nature of human existence. Even when filming the forest fire scenes there is a sense of calm, a sense of beauty and a sense of sobriety that gives opportunity to the viewer to mingle on the many subjects the film can extract from our lives. Family, ecology, social life, the rural world, decadence, destruction and limits. All of these and none of them at the same time. O Que Arde is without a doubt one of our 2019 favourites.

Other honourable mentions:

Tommaso, by Abel Ferrara
Balloon [Qi Qiu], by Pema Tseden
Atlantics [Atlantique] (out of competition), by Mati Diop

Vitalina Varela (2019)

Directed by Pedro Costa

vitalina

“It’s poison!”

[“É veneno!“]

Pedro Costa is in 2019 already a well-established auteur. His work since Casa de Lava (1994) has been consistent theme-wise, and at the same time its progress is clear throughout. With Vitalina Varela the director still manages to stay true to the work he has been developing since Ossos (1997), on elevating the everyday lives of impoverished and endangered people into the realm of cinema. At the same time, there is a sense of evolution, and character development in a way, in this new feature. It is a film about Vitalina Varela, the main actress of the film, and her mostly true story of coming to meet her husband in Portugal after a 40 year waiting call for a ticket, arriving too late, as his funeral had taken place three days before her arrival.

A film well worth noticing for its dark environments, captured as pristine as possible by Costa and his usual collaborator Leonardo Simões

As a standalone feature it is a great new way to introduce a new viewer to the director’s other films. In a way it’s one of the most linear narrative structures of the director, especially if we consider his last film Horse Money (2014) as comparison. In another hand, it is easily the most slow-paced of all of his films, making it the biggest chore to the casual moviegoer that wants to get in touch with his whole filmography. Nonetheless, Vitalina Varela has what is the most positive look towards the future of those depicted Cape Verdeans. It is at the same time, with the help of heavy stylization and immense technical care, a film that is as elevated and astray from reality as it is grounded, by its individual elements (real setting, non-actors, real stories, etc), on the truth surrounding these people’s social and economic lives.

Ventura

If we try and manage to contextualize Vitalina Varela in Costa’s full body of work, we can easily state as a fact that this is, as per usual when there is a new film by the director, the zenith of his career. If we consider the balance stated in the last paragraph, it is nothing new to the director’s other films. What is impressive is the development of the actor Ventura, the main character of his two last films Colossal Youth (2006) and Horse Money. It is the first time Ventura is not playing as himself, this is, as the character of Ventura. He plays a priest. This is the absolute next step on what we can consider as the big politics of Costa’s films. Ventura has now reached a new height, as a normal person being an actor playing himself, and now as a normal person being an actor playing a third-party character. The idea of cinema as proof of human potential in art, and of human potential in something that is transcendental, even transcendental of what may appear only as ethical, economical or political statements. This something is what makes these people worth much more than what the world gives to them, as every single person that suffers from similar conditions. This final goal is beautifully achieved in Vitalina Varela, and it presents us the in-depth story of a character that appeared briefly in Horse Money, a story that is tragic, but essentially true. The real truth, though, is not in these stories, it is not in these real people. The truth is their ability to make something great, a film, to be stars, even though that they were born in the dark side of Jesus’ face.

10 out of 10

The Beach Bum (2019)

Directed by Harmony Korine

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“He may be a jerk, but he’s a great man.”

Korine became known on the movie industry for writing the screenplay for the critically acclaimed Kids (1995), being only 19 years old at the time. Made his directorial debut with Gummo (1997), Korine started to implement his vision for cinema. Unlike traditional American cinema (that depends heavily on the power of narrative), he prefers an approach not so plot based. The film flows freely along the small events that occur, without a sense of a strict plotline that must be respected. In a way his vision of cinema is closer to a European one, in line of a Godard or a Cassavetes (in terms of artistic inspiration, as in quality he is a few steps below still).

It is not in any sense a figure praised by everybody. His films create a divide both among critics and overall public. For instance, in his previous film Spring Breakers (2012) he tried to make a social commentary of naiveté and the new” American dream” the younger generations, using Florida as background. The result had some interesting notes but is one of those films that tries way hard to be more profound than it really is. And that is usually the reason that leaves people often disappointed with his work.

In Beach Bum Korine returns once again to Florida but using a different approach. Florida still maintains the very saturated colours that were used in Spring Breakers, along with some great cinematography. It carefully translates the warmness and tropical aspect of the place with some gorgeous backgrounds. The difference lies on the overall tone of the film. Florida is depicted usually in film as this tropical paradise, but the reality is usually grimmer than that. The Florida Project (Sean S. Baker,2017) did a great job portraying the lives of lower classes in a cheap motel, showing a rather dark side to the stifling blissfulness.

There are no taboos in Korine’s films, either it be sexual, drug use or violence and Beach Bum continues to follow that line. As the protagonist we have Moondog (Matthew McConaughey), this hardcore stoner that lives this extremely hedonistic life without rules. McConaughey plays with great ease a role that its not that new to him (as for instance Linklater’s Dazed and Confused (1993) ). As the film progresses, we learn that he used to be a great writer but now lives of his multimillionaire wife Minnie’s (Isla Fisher) bank account. It´s a non-conventional and open relationship, noted by the multiple affair that they both have, something that don’t seem to bother them that much. It’s only the event of their daughter Heather´s (Stefania LaVie Owen) wedding that brings them together once again. The absurdity of the wedding brings along some great comedic scenes as well some interesting caracters such as Lingerie (Snoop Dogg). Despite having an obvious affair with his wife, Moondog is still very fond of him. The film then takes an tragic turn that leaves Moondog completely broke and homeless. The only way of getting the money back if he writes a new book, something that he is avoiding for a long time.

These two events come without notice a shape the flow of the film. Throughout his ramblings he encounters some eccentric characters like Flicker (Zac Efron), an sociopath pyromaniac with an spiritual side, or Captain Wack (Martin Lawrence), with his fixation with dolphins. Everywhere he goes positivity follows him. There are no dirty places or bad people, everything is glowing in Beach Bum. His life seems completely chaotic and without any shape of planning. He is a free spirit, loved by everybody, and always with an unshakable positivity. It’s almost discomfortable his level of happiness, almost childlike and completely unaware of his surroundings. But it always works out well for him in the end, even when all could go wrong. The cathartic ending shows his views about money were purely utilitarian. He needed the money to continue his lifestyle, not for shows of grandeur and opulence. It can be seen as a critic to the money culture that rules over us and distracts us from the most important things in life.

Overall its an interesting experience that tries to convey a more positive outlook to the problems of the world. On a more profound level Moondog is a troubled soul showed by his alcoholism, drug abuse or his womanizer ways. Despite that he still has an inspiring way of guiding himself towards happiness as his main goal to life. It´s not a life changing film or his message is new by any chance but in the end, it makes up for a different and thought-provoking film experience.

6 out of 10

Divorce Italian Style (1961)

(original title: Divorzio all’italiana)

Directed by Pietro Germi

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“Have you really got another headache?”

This week we’re heading out to Italy with this film by Sicilian director Pietro Germi. His early work is characterized by a neorealist tone in the likes of Rosselini or Vittorio De Sica (in films such as Il ferroviere (1956). In the sixties his line of work shifted towards the satirical comedy in the likes of Dino Risi or Mario Monicelli. This Italian style of comedy, the so-called commedia all’italiana (comedy Italian style) is characterized by a profound sense of social criticism beside the curtain of apparent lightness of laughter. The film ended up giving Germi the Oscar for Best Story and Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen at the 35th Academy Awards in 1962 and as well the Best Comedy award at the Cannes festival.

In Divorce Italian Style (1961), Germi plays a masterful take on the Sicilian machismo, only possible through an acute sense of comedy. Baron Ferdinando Cefalù (Marcello Mastroianni) is a disgraced nobleman married to Rosalia (Daniela Rocca). He has grown out of love with her and wants desperately to dissolve the marriage. The problem resides in the fact that at the time divorce was prohibited by law, leaving him “trapped” with Rosalia for the rest of his life. The illegality of divorce had its deep roots on the influence that the Catholic Church still had on life in Italy, especially the south. Fefè, as his wife affectionately calls him, draws a devious plan in order to get rid of Rosalia. By bringing her close to affection to another man, making him the cuckold, he could then kill then both, invoking that crime of passion and get away with murder. After this, he could finally make his move on to Angela (Stefania Sandrelli), his 16 years old cousin who he was infatuated with.

“Angela, what an unexpected pleasure”

The comic aspect of the film starts with the contrasts between the physical appearance of the couple. The baron is a cool figure, with a cigarette on the corner of his mouth, dark shades and a stylish moustache. A bon vivant and in a way a figure out of his time. But that is only a cover, shown by the preoccupations with his body (in a funny scene at the mirror where Mastroianni reflects about his belly size), and the way he presents himself at home, with the hair unkempt and rumpled clothes. In a way Mastroianni is creating a satire of the perfect and charming Italian lover, which includes himself in the lot (like in Fellini´s La Dolce Vita (1960). Despite all his flaws, Fefè is still convinced that he´s on top of his game and deserves a better looking and younger wife.

His wife Rosalia is characterized physically by the excessive body hair, especially in her face, with the subtle moustache and unibrow. Fefè is clearly repulsed by her and her constant shows of love make him rather disconformable. To add up, Rosalia has this very high-pitched voice and extravagant poses. The audience, despite knowing that is wrong, almost ends up in a devious way to agree with him. Germi makes the viewer enter in a conflict with themselves and therefore make him in Mastroianni´s shoes. If we analyse deeper though, Rosalia is a naïve kind of person, completely unaware of his husband unhappiness with the relationship.

Through the film we see him fantasizing about how he would kill his wife. Either by stabbing her in the back and throwing her into a soap caldron; or later in the beach by imagining her being swallowed up in quicksand. He finally finds Carmelo (Leopoldo Trieste), a World War II veteran who was deeply in love with Rosalia. The designing of plan was now completed, and when the two finally met again and fell in love, Fefè was now the cuckold. The shame was not only onto him but the entire family, ending a part of it being the reason for his father´s death or the actions against Rosalia and Carmelo.

Baron Ferdinando “Fefè” Cefalù and his wife Rosalia

The end shatters completely with the double standard of the male chauvinism. Now with a clear path to chase and marry the young Angela, she ends up behaving a lot like him. The irony displaced in the final scenes maybe tries to show that the problem is more a societal one than only the mischievous character of the baron. This is not an excuse for the husband´s actions, which are evidentially reprovable. But in the end, it feels like is easier to kill the partner than to lawfully divorce him. In addiction to this, the reaction of his family and the deep sense of shame all around the village display the problems that a post war and now democratic Italy had with machismo and the authority of the old institutions.

The Dead Don’t Die (2019)

Directed by Jim Jarmusch

the dead dont die cover

“This is definitely going to end badly.“

Probably the hardest film of 2019 to discuss so far, The Dead Don’t Die is the new film by the American director Jim Jarmusch. It was the film to open the 2019 Cannes Film Festival and is releasing worldwide since. We at Camera Coverage had the opportunity to watch the first showing of the film in Portugal and having passed two full days since watching it, we feel even more confused about it than what we did when getting out of the theater.

Adam Driver and Bill Murray play Ronnie Peterson and Cliff Robertson, two policemen that will lead us through the whole of the story. Out of nowhere it seems that in the small town of Centerville the days are now unusually longer. Quickly we aknowledge that the cause of this is that the axis of the Earth was messed up by some experimentation with polar fracking. Eventually this situation goes out of proportion, leading to weird behaviour on animal life and eventually, spoiler alert, leading to the rising of the undead.

Not the dynamic duo that a zombie apocalypse world needs, but the one it deserves.

This is a weird one. Jim Jarmusch is known for his idiosyncrasies when it comes to plot development and genre play, but he goes full-on with his new film. Despite being rather slow, The Dead Don’t Die does not restrain itself to being a mere zombie film. It is not a mere parody or satire either, and despite the hyper-refentiality of the film it is hard to call it an exercise of pastiche. If for nothing else, the film should be taken into consideration for the odd balance it makes with all these known paradigms. By doing so, it gives the film an absurd edge that makes it so unnexpected that by the third act of the film one can only imagine that Samuel Beckett came back from the dead to rewrite the whole thing.

This is one of the best compliments that can be made towards Jarmusch’s new film. Despite the many issues with it, the writing is one of its key successes. All of the parts were clearly written for the actors that played them. The dynamic between these actors and the writing is unbelievable. It enhances what I suppose that was the main focus of the film, that is, the nonsensical aspect of the modern world. Despite it being clearly conscious of its overexplanations and lack of subtilty, as it all contributes to the enhancement of the film’s main idea, it retracts from what could honestly be a much more polished and complex film. That said, there are some nuances in the film that are really interesting. Some images regarding certain characters, especially the characters played by Selena Gomez and Tilda Swinton, really stay with you and are oddly poetic and subtle inside such a consciously obvious film.

What else could Tilda Swinton play in a Jim Jamursch directed zombie film than a Scottish (???) samurai mortician.

It is technically predictable but delightful, as many of the director’s other features. The soundtrack is really impressive and fit for the meta aspect of the whole film, playing with genres, clichés and expectations. The main problem with The Dead Don’t Die is its lack of catharsis. By creating an 100% self conscious film, and I mean 100%, and considering the gigantinc amount of references it has (and not restricted to references of zombie films either), it feels cold and hollow. Even if that was Jarmusch’s main focus, more than feeling cold and redundant, the film feels disapointing. It takes the more than dry idea of George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (1978) and tries to elevate it, but it does not even elevate it that much for it to be original in the slightest. All in all, Jarmusch made a film that I truly believe that needs a rewatch to really get a grip of. Despite not being as likeable as one could hope, it is clear that there is something more to it. Or maybe not and we are just disapointed admirers of the director’s previous work.

6 out of 10

Raise The Red Lantern (1991)

(original title: Da hong deng long gao gao gua)

Directed by Zhang Yimou

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“Isn’t that the fate of a woman?”

This week on Camera Coverage we turn back to Asia, more specifically, to China. Zhang Yimou is one of the most prolific Chinese directors of the last twenty years. Before estabilishing himself as one of the masters of the modern wuxia film with works like Hero (2002) or Curse of the Golden Flower (2006) he made a bunch of diferent films related to either Chinese history or your regular to-go drama picture. That said, his first three feature films, consisting of an unconnected trilogy, are to this day some of his best, especially the one we selected to elaborate upon. Raise the Red Lantern is a period film based on a novel by Su Tong, Wives and Concubines, that managed to do the impossible task of balancing pure cinema aesthetics and important statements on many political, social and cultural problems that are relevant to this very day.

The film follows Songlian (Li Gong), a young woman in 1920’s China. She appears to have been an university student that had some sort of conflict with her family. In a revenge act towards her family she decides to marry an old, powerful rich man in northern China. All of it happens really quickly, and Yimou puts the viewer straight into the complicated relationships between all of the four wives inside the mansion. Each of them have their own house/room that will be lit up with red lanterns if the master of the house (his name is never mentioned in the film) chooses to stay with that wife for the night or not.

Saifei Ha as Meishan, the second wife, an opera singer.

Right off the bat we are faced with the aesthetic beauty of the film. Yes, the visuals are incredibly, but even the soundtrack works briliantly well with the images. There is a real sense of composition and structure in the film that contrasts well with its cathartic and dynamic ideas. More than just pure aesthetics the film manages to utilize many ingredients from the very beginning that make even the casual viewer to question some of the meanings and possible themes that the film will develop. Not only is the use of colour obviously important – hence the title of the film – but framing is key in the film, as is the decision of what to show and what not to show.

Raise the Red Lantern is not a sympathetic film when it comes to its protagonist, nor it is sympathetic to its viewer. The film has a claustrophobic feeling to it. There are rooms inside houses inside a village, and the four depicted woman are most of the time depicted inside these rooms like prisoners. The cold hand of the director when it comes to the depiction of these problems is felt in aspects like these, even if when picturing the master of the house there is never a shot of his face or, like we mentioned before, the mentioning of his very name. This decision would supposedly work in a way that would make us connect with the women inside, but quickly we realize that, yes, the man is a villain, but there is a bigger problem inside this world that dictates all these feelings of oppression. We must think that from the very beginning we are shown that Songlian’s decision was her own, and if she is a prisoner it is because of her doings. Despite the focus on the relationship between the women regarding their marriage, the film’s decision to avoid direct picturing of the husband puts us far away from any of his personal responsability we could have thought of.

The quest for power of these wome led to lies such as fake illness, and even fake pregnancy.

All of this combined with the cruelty and evil depicted in these four women (being it at the same time a characteristic of each of them and a consequence of their situation), Raise the Red Lantern quickly goes from what could be a go-to bland feminist statement to a complex proposition of an overarching structure that is responsible for such issues. It is a controversial reading of the film, yes, but the catharsis we take from such a film is relevant enough to question these problems further and create a reaction in the viewer that, while mesmerized by the beauty of it, it is shocked by how contrasting it is with its ideas. Zhang Yimou made a beautiful film that manages to embellish and strengthen these women’s cages with the purpose of breaking their own metal bars.

3 Faces (2019)

(original title: Se rokh)

Directed by Jafar Panahi

“So you came for her and not for us.”

Jafar Panahi is a Iranian director famous for his continuous quarrel with censorship and his consequent imprisonment in 2010. His 2015 masterpiece Taxi gave him worldwide recognition, but he was already one of the highest praised Asian directors from the last twenty years by film critics and a staple of the big film festivals. His work follows the lead of his master Abbas Kiarostami, especially after being imprisoned, where he approached a fluid style between documentary and fiction to develop his already highly realist filmography. 3 Faces is a film that won the award for Best Screenplay at the Cannes Film Festival, and is since being released all over the globe.

The film follows the director himself and the actress Behnaz Jafari. They received a video message of a young girl commiting suicide in an attempt to get the actress’ attention and help with the consequences of her somewhat progressive lifestyle (she studies in college and is an actress) in her traditionalist village. The three faces that gave the film its title are meant to be the faces of the three actresses in the film. The young girl that sent the message, the middle aged Behnaz Jafari and an old lady that they meet somewhere in the middle of their journey into the village. It is shot at the same location that many of Kiarostami’s films were shot, and has a lot of direct references to some of his most famous work, including the devastating ending of Taste of Cherry (1997) mirrored in the somewhat crazy old actress’ actions.

Behnaz Jafari

As are the other films of the director since 2010, 3 Faces is a politically charged work. Panahi seems to extend his views on femininity, generational issues and religious catharsis from his other films. In this aspect, Panahi’s work seems to resemble another Iranian director that seems to be forgotten when talking about Panahi, that is Mohsen Makhmalbaf. In some of his films, of course considering Kiarostami’s influence on them as well, Makhmalbaf utilized too the fluidity between documentary paradigms and preconceived narratives to approach certain political issues – see for instance Kandahar (2001) and how it deals with the uprising war, or A Moment of Innocence (1996) and how it works with morality issues inside small communities. In the same way Taxi or This is Not a Film (2011) worked, this new film utilizes its meta elements to the fullest in order to reach the level of realism it does. It does not even shy away from going further into many other debates, much like Kiarostami’s Close-Up (1990) when it comes to the debate about the power of film and the influence of art in an oppressed society.

Despite not being as original as a film like Taxi was, Panahi seems to make a proper tribute to his masters. The debate topics of Makhmalbaf in 2001 or Kiarostami in 1990 are not the same the ones being discussed in Panahi’s contemporary cinema. Even if going as far as utilizing diegetic elements of the voyage or other direct elements of these other director, the final product is still original and relevant. There is a blend of a seemingly ascetic scenario with traditional but poetic use of framing and editing, and with a real sense of pathos that transcends the otherworldly level of cinema into real life (with a knowledge of technology and modernity that remembered us of other directors that utilized modern elements to their most real, like Michael Haneke in Happy End (2017) ). This mixture of techniques combined with the poignancy of Panahi’s assertions is hard to criticise and all of it definitely works.

One of the most important things to take from a fictional film like 3 Faces is its sense of realism. Despite working will milions of elements and influences that are somewhat hard to keep track of, the film puts them together in a way that every frame drools a sense of what’s reality like in Iran, but even goes further in globalizing Iran’s problems. How do we deal with our professional lives, how do we deal with deceit, how do we deal with time and how do we deal with rules. What is the role of God, and does godliness ends when humanity starts to fade. These are some of the things that are hard not to think of when we see a film like Panahi’s. Much like the main idea from his 2011 film we are once faced with the fact that a film is a representation of life. Not only that, but the final product of this representation is alarming, not only because of what’s happening in some Middle Eastern countries, but because of the true universality of these problems.

7 out of 10

Cat People (1942)

Directed by Jacques Tourneur

“Let no one say, and say it to your shame / That all was beauty here, until you came.”

This week on Camera Coverage, after an unfortunate but necessary hiatus, we take a chance at yet another Horror Classic. This time we discuss one of RKO’s ultimate, but sadly forgotten classics, Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People. We often associate suspense films of this era with Alfred Hitchcock, and rightly so, but Tourneur is a French director that utilized the techniques of the afforementioned director to a new height in his Hollywood career. Despite being associated with B-movie fair, Cat People presents classic horror cinema at its best. There is a creature, there is melodrama, there is symbolism and there is masterful use of archaic techniques in order to portray (or not) all these cathartic elements.

The film plays with the character of Irena Dubrovna (Simone Simon), a Serbian fashion designer working in New York. Right from the beginning of the film we are introduced to her future husband Oliver Reed (Kent Smith), who’s relationship with will be the main focus of the whole film. Irena has a unsettling past and is afraid that some legends from her village in Serbia are true and inside her. Stories of witches, kings, witchhunters and, of course, cat people, live within her as she expresses her anxieties of the possibility of all of it being true. This will lead to a troubled marriage, in which physical contact is inexistant, and the insistence of another woman inside the relationship dynamic will be the key factor for Irena to release the panther within her.

Alice as, in a genre bending role, The Other Woman, a New Yorker intruding a troubled marriage between a Serbian (Irena) and an American (Oliver).

All of this is quite literal. Irena seems to really release, or rather transform into, a panther by the third act of the film. So what makes the film so fascinating despite its somewhat cheesy premise? Well, what could have turned into a really awkward puppet and silicone fest is dealt with incredible subtilty. Tourneur’s cinema uses shadows as one of its foundational elements. This is essential to a film working with metamorphosis as is Cat People. The idea of transformation is never portrayed directly onto the screen, but suggested. I believe, as many others do, that Tourneur utilized heavy indexicality mainly because of the somewhat low budget of the film. That said, when working with abductive imagery he manages to elevate the film not only in terms of ambiguity, but also in relation to films that utilize top-notch special effects but sadly do not hold so well nowadays. It must be noted and observed that this technique is not reduced to editing and cutting the scene when transformations are due, but there is a work of suggestive imagery throughout the whole of the film. From images of Irena with paintings of menacing cats in the background, to juxstaposition of her body and a reproduction of a statue of Anubis, to the crossing of Irena’s figure and the shadow of an armchair giving her some sort of cat ears. One of the key scenes works with Irena’s footsteps quickly silencing as she is chasing Alice (Jane Randolph), as we must only assume that her feet transmorphed into the silent, deadly paws of a black panther. This film represents the use of cinema’s rhethorical means at its best, using not only the resource of image and visual representation, but going as far as utilizing sound to its most effective.

Another example of suggestion – in this case premonition – of a scene through shadows and objects. If you look closely you can observe the shadow of the bird and its cage projected onto the black panther image, predicting what would later happen in that scene regarding the bird’s death.

One can love a film by its technical prowess, but what does it all really mean? Well, Cat People does not shy away from ambiguity. This is not only due to the decisions behind the technical aspects of the film, but also due to the broad themes that the film is dealing with. Probably the most clear readings of the film lay on the problem of sexuality, femininity and relationships as a whole. There is a clear suggestion throughout the whole film of Irena’s fear of touch, even though she is already married and social or even religious judgements are not an issue. This woman is dynamic in the film, as she can transform into a menacing beast that is awaken by the overextension of male activity in the world that is her own – this is, sexual intercourse regarding her own body. But what about her Serbian identity? The reading of the film as a cultural collision is another interesting perspective by which we can approach Cat People.

Despite all these possible perspectives on the film, its ambiguity and blank spaces should be respected and perceived as such. This is a film that is simultaneously meant to be enjoyed and discussed, but never reduced to x or y perspective. By trying to limit the film’s readings (there is an immense focus by critics in accessing the film with the perspective on sexual anxieties), we tend to leave its essential element of identity that it is dealing with. More than a woman or a Serbian, Irene is an individual trying to defend her individuality when in necessity of interacting with other individuals. Whether Irene is a cat person or not we will never get to really see, but what we get to see is that Irene is as human as she can as she tries to survive in our inherently intrusive world.

Burning (2019)

(original title: Beoning)

Directed by Chang-dong Lee

“You burn down other people’s greenhouses?”

Burning is a 2018 film that unfortunately was only released in Portugal (where we are based) precisely a year after its premiere on the Cannes Film Festival. To worsen things, only a limited number of smaller cinemas decided to screen it. A sad resolution to a challenging and interesting film, a clear difference from the lack of creativity that plagued the commercial circuit in the last month.

Director Chang-dong Lee maintains the caustic and dramatic style that characterized most of his films. Lee tries on his works to access the darkness in the human nature, putting his characters in situations way beyond their comfort zone. Either by turbulent political scenarios like in his directing debut Green Fish (1997), or in Peppermint Candy (2000), a haunting tale of a man’s downward spiral to suicide; or finally and maybe his most well received film Oasis (2002), dealing with father and daughter relations amidst a debilitating disease. This last one ended up receiving the Best Director’s award and the Marcello Mastroianni Award for Leading Actress on the well-respected Venice Film Festival.

This time Lee brings to the screen an adaptation of a small story by the Japanese writer Haruki Murakami (“Barn Burning”, 1982). The film takes place on current day South Korea, having as the lead character Jongsu (Ah-in Yoo). A recent graduate of literary studies he finds it hard to get a job in his field of studies. A well-read young man, quotes William Faulkner as his favorite writer, mostly because of how relatable his writing is to him. During a walk in Seul he suddenly meets a childhood friend named Haemi (Jong-seo Jun). They both are from a countryside village outside of Seul. Haemi is now a grown woman and like most in Korea has done plastic surgery, making her almost unrecognizable to Jongsu. They have a dinner and afterward she invites him to her house, where they end up having sex. There Jongsu acknowledges her decision to go to Africa and accepts feeding her cat while she is gone. While she is away, he decides to take care of his family farm where he spent his childhood, dreaming of Haemi’s return.

This surely one of those films that the less we know coming to the cinema the better, because the second half sure takes an unexpected turn from the romantic drama vibe that characterized the first part (which ironically kind of renders this review a bad tool for the ones who haven’t watched it ). When Haemi returns from Africa, we are introduced to a new friend that she made named Ben (Steven Yeun). A very rich individual, he “steals” Haemi from Jongsu, but despite that she still invites him to hang around them both, acting like an awkward third wheel. Besides that, there’s a delicate class critique around Ben. Jongsu compares him to Gatsby from the famous Fritzgerald’s novel, wondering what his occupation is to grant him this luxurious lifestyle.

“Misterious people who are young and rich but you dont know what they do”

Haemi is this happy and naïve like figure, and doesn’t care for such things as Jongsu does, who from the start feels there is something off with Ben. One day her and Ben appear uninvited in Jongsu’s family farm. In a moment alone Ben confesses his love with burning greenhouses, leaving a sense of imminent danger in the air. Despite that, Haemi is totally clueless to this and Ben’s love for arson. In one beautiful scene (after Ben’s revelation) during dusk, with the North Korean montains in the background, Haemi dances half naked to the sound of Miles Davis soundtrack of Louis Malle’s Elevator to the Gallows (1958). The cinematography by Kyung-pyo Hong is gorgeous and adds a lot to giving a sense of dreamlike state, leaving the viewer more and more uncertain about what is happening.

The haunting Haemi dancing scene

Jongsu is a calm and introverted individual. Throughout the film we get clues about his past and childhood, especially the ones dealing with his mother. He is a lone wolf kind of person and starts to obsess with Haemi. There is a patent and ever-growing rage inside him against Ben, who despite always seeming uninterested in Haemi’s actions, she always tries to please him. This jealousy ends up hurting Jonsu’s relationship with her and leaving him with a lot of guilty caused by his behavior. But when he tries to amend things with her, she’s not there to talk to him. There’s a deep tension in this film but it is always invisible. The answers don’t seem to appear, but the rage grows stronger by the minute. In the end we can’t help but to feel if Jongsu’s obsession with Haemi and attempt to control her actions was part of the motivation for such a rageful and traumatic closure. As if he felt not only rage against Ben but also with himself.

8 out of 10

Ruben Brandt, Collector (2019)

Directed by Milorad Krstic

rub

“Art is the key to the troubles of the mind”

This week, for the first time on Camera Coverage, we’ll be taking a look at an animated feature. Coming from Hungary, Ruben Brandt, Collector is the first feature film of Milorad Krstic. A fairly unknown figure with only short movie credit (My Baby Left Me (1995) ), Krstic makes up a strong impression at the age of 66 years old. Regardless of its country of origin, the film is dubbed originally in English.

At the centre we have as the main character Ruben Brandt (voiced by Ivan Kamaras), a world-famous psychologist haunted by these weird and absurd dreams all connected with famous art pieces. The story advances between real life and dream sequences where famous paintings try to harm and kill Ruben. It is an extremely bizarre but captivating scenario to see; for instance, Velázquez’s Infanta Margarita Teresa in a Blue Dress (1659) trying to bite off his arm in a speeding train; or even a pistol duel against Andy Warhol’s Double Elvis (1963). These wonderful usages of famous art pieces from the western world redefine their meanings beautifully and with great taste.

The duel with Elvis

Ruben Brandt is himself an art lover. His methods for helping his patients all connect with art, as he is a true believer of self-artistic expression to exorcise one’s ghosts of the past. Asking for help dealing with her problem with kleptomania is Mimi (Gabriella Hamori), an art robber escaping from detective Mike Kowalski (Csaba “Kor” Márton). She and the other patients in Brandt’s luxurious clinic discover his problems related to his dreams and agree they all must help him. The problems that made them enter the clinic are all related to crime and stealing so teaming up to rob to steal Manet’s Olympia (1863) is not that big of a deal. When they show this painting stolen from the Musée d’Orsay in Paris to Brandt, his nightmares with the woman portrayed suddenly disappeared. He then joins the group to steal the rest of the paintings that still haunted his dreams. The gang raids numerous museums all around the world like the Louvre, MoMa, the Uffizi Gallery or the Art Institute of Chicago, ending up getting the attention of both authorities and gang members alike.The above-mentioned detective Kowalski tries to catch Mimi and the rest of the group before other criminals get to them, attracted by the huge bounty on their heads.

The storyline ends up emulating the classic Hollywood spy and cop movies genre, being a somewhat disappointing experience especially in the last third of the film. This is a film that is to be appreciated more by the originality of the embedded details rather than the narrative itself. There are plenty of heist films clichés, and the personality of the characters is not that deep or original, maybe except for the protagonist. Regarding the plot, points go certainly to the importance given to art and its relation to the well being of an individual. The connection between psychology and art is an interesting and refreshing one, especially in a world dominated by scientific thought.

Velazquez’s Infanta Margarida attack

Aesthetically this film leaves the viewer in awe by the gorgeous detail to both the characters and the world around them. People are portrayed as these cubistic with surrealistic undertones like a Picasso met Dali kind of style. Some have three eyes, others two heads, and, in a brilliant play with perspectives, there is a character that is bidimensional like a sheet of paper. It is an astonishing world completely filled with subtle references to all kinds of art, that goes from Soviet propaganda to American Realism painting. Besides that, a brilliant homage is also given to cinema, portrayed in the home collection of detective Kowalski. Filled with film memorabilia from Weneger’s Der Student von Prag (1913) poster to the small detail of ice cubes in the shape of Alfred Hitchcock, there´s a lot for any movie buff to enjoy in these small quirks.

Overall it was a pleasant surprise, and an animation like any other I’ve ever watched. The focus on the holistic aspect of art in the human mind is definably a positive aspect. In the end Ruben Brandt, Collector gives both an approachable introduction to art history and something that art enthusiasts can take also.

6 out of 10