Nisimazine Cannes 2010 #4

Nisimazine TUESDAY 18 MAY 2010

#4

Cannes

A Magazine by Nisi Masa, European Network Of Young CinemA

From Armadillo by Janus Metz (Denmark) - Critics’ Week

Michelangelo Frammartino Diego and Daniel Vega Another Year

NISIMAZINE CANNES

Tuesday 18 May 2010/# 4 A magazine published by the NISI MASA in the framework of a film journalism workshop

editorial

for young Europeans with the support of the ‘Youth in Action’ programme of the EU

by Erzsébet Plájás

EDITORIAL STAFF Director of Publication Matthieu Darras Editors-in-Chief Maartje Alders

Jude Lister

The real treats of the festival, however, are rarely to be found in the lights of the flashes; instead, you have to look for them yourself.

These are the things that will be

saved - not on memory cards, but permanently in your memories.

Take a walk around the International Village or dive into the Film Market. It can be the simplest of events: getting lost, witnessing mosaics of life on the streets, or having long talks with the strangers next to whom you stand in line.

Most experiences may look great in pictures, but they are actually films, and the cameras are always rolling.

Layout Maartje Alders Contributors to this issue

Vincent Bitaud , Geoffrey Crété Maria Diceanu, Mirona Nicola Erzsébet Plájás, Romain Pichon-Sintes Damien Rayuela, Laslo Rojas Laurie Zaffarana Coordinators Joanna Gallardo

Marion Perrin NISI MASA 99 rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis, 75010, Paris, France.

Phone: +33 (0)9 60 39 63 38 in Cannes: +33 (0) 6 32 61 70 26 europe@nisimasa.com www.nisimasa.com

www.nisimazine.eu

,

Whatever the reason, cameras keep flashing persistently to such an extent that a martian would think we were some weird species only able to function with a camera in our hands. A priest taking a group

picture, half-naked girls covered with fake blood posing for photographers, people in evening gowns running up the stairs and stopping for a while to have their photos taken on the red carpet; these are just some of the breeds one can meet in Cannes. Not to mention the crowds before the Palais, where hundreds of people are waiting to ambush, in the hope of catching a celebrity’s smile.

Edwin - Postcards from the Zoo (in l’Atelier)

picture of the day

BY DAMIEN RAYUELA

As I was walking down the Croisette on Saturday evening, a photographer stopped me for a minute and started shooting a series of flashes right into my face. Here in Cannes there is a bizarre, instinctive urge to condense each moment and face of the festival. It doesn’t matter if the subject is a celebrity or just a passer-by, if the photographer is a professional or a tourist.

© Fridthjof Film A/S

film of the day Armadillo Janus Metz (Denmark) – Critics’ Week

Forget The Hurt Locker. Forget about The Thin Red Line, Saving Private Ryan or any other war movie focusing on the dramas of combat soldiers. Maintaining a high aesthetic standard throughout, Janus Metz’s Armadillo proposes a new kind of discourse: more emotional, frightening and powerful than anything done before.

Hearing “war” and “movie” in the same sentence probably makes you assume that we’re dealing with loads of special effects. Well, in Armadillo, the bullets are not blanks, the film’s crew is not safe, and the dead are actually gone forever. The only effect you might consider is how real reality feels and, at the same time, how artistically it can be portrayed.

Smartly combining documentary storytelling with the visual style of fiction, the movie analyzes the personality changes occurring

review

within a group of young Danish soldiers, volunteering for a 6-month training in Camp Armadillo, Afghanistan. Although the mission doesn’t initially seem that challenging - except for the war-zone placement, as the frustration of not being able to handle the Taliban harassment accumulates we slowly see the group evolving from normal teenagers into cruel, cynical soldiers. Even after being injured or feeling death passing by just seconds away, they still willingly return to the camp as if it would be impossible for them to imagine an existence without the adrenaline rush brought by dangerous conflicts.

From a tribute to these volunteers and the sacrifices they make, the movie could have easily turned into a piece making the audience despise everything about war and soldiers. The filmmaking techniques manage however to place the spectators in an observatory position rather than a judgmental

one. Impressive editing gives a feeling that there’s a camera for each character, when in fact there’s only one and no way of repeating the same action twice. The beautiful steady shots, filmed while the DOP was in the range of fire, are another of the film’s distinguishing marks.

Even the viewing experience was not just about the movie, but also about the people I was sharing it with. The connection in the cinema was unbelievable to the point where it felt like everybody was breathing in tune.

There’s thus not a single level on which Armadillo fails to deliver as a cinematographic event, making me feel that this is what filmwatching should be all about.

By Maria Diceanu

Another Year

In Another Year, seasons change, people cross each other’s lives, and feelings are condemned to evolve. Fourteen years after his Palme d’Or for Secret & Lies, Mike Leigh’s new feature seems miraculous. Juggling with absurd euphoria and violent lucidity, the British director follows a group of ordinary middle-aged people connected by work, family, love and friendship. Out of this chain of everyday gatherings – a barbecue, a cup of tea, a visit, a funeral – in which happiness and sorrow coexist, blooms an extraordinary and amazingly alive work.

Through a wonderful gallery of characters, Another Year paints the portrait of a gene-

ration haunted by its past, fulfilled in a peaceful existence or broken by unfinished business. A harsh yet touching sobriety allows the film to avoid reducing itself to a talky and boring tale of ordinary people and places, making it cross its own limits to sketch an ever-changing world in which suddenly, tears can become laughter. Mike Leigh owes the merit for this fragile balance to his incredibly natural and deeply human actors, particularly Lesley Manville, Ruth Sheen and Peter Wight.

By Geoffrey Crété

© Thin Man Films Ltd

Mike Leigh (UK) – Official Selection, in competiton

© Pallas Film

review

Svet-Ake

Aktan Arym Kubat (Kyrgystan) - Directors’ Fortnight The Charming Mr. Light Much to my shame, I had no idea who Aktan Arym Kubat was before seeing Svet-Ake (The Light Thief). His native country, Kyrgyzstan, might not be wellknown but this director has definitely brought a nice surprise with his latest film.

Svet-Ake is the story of a man who provides light for his village, both technically and spiritually. The audience at the Theatre Stephanie was charmed by this touching figure who reminds one of Jean Renoir’s characters: human, well-intentioned to the point of being naive (as his wife notices), always confident in people’s good nature and willing to help. All of these characteristics are qualities as much as they are imperfections, because confiding equally in

everyone doesn’t necessarily mean they reciprocate.

Films from such countries as Kyrgyzstan tend to attract an audience interested in something “exotic”. It’s not really the case here, because the social, economic and political situation of the country acts merely as a background to this fully fictional story. Mr Light is the central element in this portrait of kindness and never-ending faith in the good outcome of things. His optimism gradually becomes contagious, reaching the viewer as raw emotion without being melodramatic or pathetic. A film made with humour and honesty, Svet-Ake simply can’t be overlooked.

By Mirona Nicola

Now on www.nisimazine.eu

Review of Micky Bader (Official Selection - Shorts), stop-motion portrait of Edwin, and photo gallery with the latest images from the Croisette!

review

La Princesse de Montpensier Bertrand Tavernier (France) - Official Selection in competition

Complex love affairs make the best stories. In a perfect world, love would still be Achilles’ heel and the Pandora’s Box of jealousy, perfidy, hate and, in the end, war. As every storyteller knows, a good story bursts out from conflicts. This is precisely what happens when four men, bound by honour and hierarchy, fall in love with the same woman.

These four strong characters gravitate around Marie de Mézière, a young girl thrown into a shotgun marriage and a courtly education. The destiny of these men is interwoven throughout the film, portraying the different faces of the lover: the jealous one, the passionate one, the mentor and the joker, all unified in the same dance of passion.

It is obvious and yet subtle: Bertrand Tavernier has his own distinct touch. A smooth, floating camera which caresses even the battle scenes (light years

from the furious cuts which are television’s legacy), and sets a naïve and light-hearted tone.

Surprising at first sight, it finally creates the necessary distance for us to appreciate the contrast between Marie’s intrigues and the butchery of the wars of religion, towards which the four

Binger Filmlab presents our upcoming labs in Amsterdam

© Paradis Films

DANCES OF PASSION

men have diverging standpoints.

The world of the XVI century is poisoned by strict habits, avarice and laws of appearances. Yet Tarvernier succeeds in creating the impression that beneath the surface emotions are running wild. The link with the present is clear: restraints of any kind won’t ever stop feelings.

By Romain Pichon-Sintes

Directors Lab 2011 application Sept 15, 2010

Writers Lab & Creative Producers Lab 2011 application March 15, 2011 Would you like to know more?

Please call Daan Gielis (+31 6 101 56 925) for a meeting at Binger Headquarters in Cannes For details go to

www.binger.nl

PHOTO BY VINCENT BITAUD

interview

Michelangelo Frammartino

Director of Le Quattro Volte (Italy) - Directors’ Fortnight

After studying architecture, Michelangelo Frammartino started experimenting with video installation and film, winning the 150” competition for short films made with a cell phone at the Bellaria Festival in 2002. His first feature, Il Dono, which he also edited, was a rural story built around the few people still living in a Calabrian village. A few years later, he became a scriptwriter for his second feature, Le Quattro Volte. He is now in Cannes with this contemplative view on the cycles of life, selected for the Directors’ Fortnight.

When did you have the last version of your script?

Was it before beginning the shoot, or did you make adjustments during filming?

This is not a cinema that comes from writing but a cinema that comes from spaces and the presence of bodies. Writing is a productive instrument for what comes after - it is not fundamental, even if it helps. It’s a problem in Italy because all the production companies want a script before deciding to finance a project, but recently things have been changing.

What can you tell me about your work with nonprofessional actors?

The work is derived from human beings in opposition to other things. Man is only in the first part, after there come animals, plants and fine agricultural minerals. Working with non-profes-

sionals is challenging for me as a director; like this I lose control and it’s really more interesting to enter into my film. With the non-professional, it’s him who gives the orders, you just have to be patient, and I like that. The only professional actor was the dog. When it arrived on the set the people from the village were crazy about that dog.

They decided to bring their own to mate with the female actor because they wanted the same kind of trained baby dog.

To shoot some scenes, such as the mythic sequence shot with the dog and the truck, how many takes did you do? How much time did you need to prepare?

I made twenty-one takes for this scene. The problem was that I wanted the dog to take possession of the space, and when someone came into his space he had to defend his territory, but he didn’t do that. So the dog trainer had to teach him by heart each place that he had to take. It was really amazing.

Can you tell me how it’s possible to shoot a scene with a goat without scaring it? In particular the kids?

The goat kids were born with us, so it was normal for them to be surrounded by ten cameras every day. For the adults it was really difficult to shoot, but when a female has a baby she doesn’t look at you anymore.

How did you manage to shoot outside in the mountains with a 35mm camera?

First of all I spent one year by myself with a camera to take pictures of the landscape and the goats.

I wanted to observe them and the environment.

Also, I wanted to know how I would shoot before using 35mm film. I wanted this good traditional image, but at the same time a very different cinematic language.

Sound plays a big part in this film. Can you explain to me how you recorded it and what it means for you?

The sound engineer’s work was really amazing.

Paolo Benvenuti and Simone Paolo Olivero worked three or four hours more a day than us on the shoot. The sound takes up half of the movie. We worked with a lot of microphones everywhere in the shot, which allowed us to mix afterwards. This is a film where man is in the foreground and the sound is in the background, until little by little it takes up more space. We worked the sound in this way to find the perfect balance between human beings, images, and sound itself.

Your first film, Il Dono, is about Calabria and the lifestyle there. What will your next project look like, if you have already one?

My next project is an animation feature, it’s not about Calabria. But I think that I’ve always felt inspired by it, because it’s the birthplace of a civilization.

I come from Sicily, and have always been told that all Italians originated from there.

Well you were wrong! (laughs)

By Laurie Zaffarana

in focus from Here I Am by Balint Szimler

Speak up!

Cinéfondation Shorts

Some say cinema is a closed chapter: it’s all been done before. Yet despite pessimistic assumptions, there have always been new voices promising that there’s still a lot more to come. Unfortunately, most of this year’s voices in the Cinéfondation short film selection are just not loud enough to put up a fight against bleak predictions.

from The Game by Benjamin Nishtat

Projects selected in this section raise expectations of loud, distinctive visions from the new generation of filmmakers, but this year it seems like they were a bit intimidated, or maybe set back by the economic crisis. They barely manage to be innovative with their subjects and directing styles. Many follow the path of “invisible directing” (I already am everything I want to have by Dane Komljen, Thanks. Fine by Matyas Prikler, Frozen

Land by Tae-Yong Kim and Yi-Yeong Choi), whilst others only try to be daring when it comes to their subject (Coucou les Nuages by Vincent Cardona), and a third category shifts etween objectivity and classical directing (Los Minutos, Las Horas

by Janaina Marques, The Painting Sellers by Juho Kuosmanen, Iceland by Gilles Coulier, The Fifth Column by Vatche Boulghourjian, Shelley by Andrew Wesman). All these movies have a spark at some point but for some reason don’t take it far enough.

The Fifth Column manages some kind of originality through the “dream” sequence of Hrag, the main character. Made up of eclectic archive footage including sub-aquatic images, cartoons and a woman’s hands playing the piano - it creatively sums up the boy’s childhood universe, giving an insight into his attachment to the time when his mother was still alive.

The selection also includes several animated films.

Cooked (by Jens Blank) is a cute, likeable story, but nothing out of the ordinary. Miramare on the other hand offers a pleasant visual experience using watercolour animation and mimicry of camera moves. But neither can make up for the fact that what the synopsis states isn’t directly reflected in the film.

There are nevertheless two films that really manage to stand out: The Game

by Benjamin Nishtat and Here I Am

by Balint Szimler. Both have a way of gluing the viewer to the screen, the first by keeping just enough distance to preserve its central ambiguity, and the latter by being kind of cold, but somehow very flattering to the character. The outcome is similar: there are specific atmospheres which diffuse throughout the films alongside unpredictable, interesting characters.

Here I Am tells the story of Victor, a bored young guy who goes around to his friend’s place in search of something to do. There’s a Jim-Jarmusch likeness in this character - he picks up a guy to take

with him on a date, just in case there are any dry conversation moments; he orders a pizza and asks the delivery guy to take him over to his friend to whom he offers the pizza, asking him to pay; he goes to the supermarket, knowing that he doesn’t have any money and he will leave the products at the cashier; while he’s waiting in line he exercises his wink for the girl in front.

The Game tells the story of a man-hunt game with no clear outcome. Still the movie has a purpose exploring how alliances can be formed and how the power shifts between these two groups of people who barely know each other. The terms are settled not as much during the game as during the lunch break. This director has a special affinity for suspense which he skillfully constructs by concentrating for long sequences only on two main characters who come into a conflict at the dinner table. Also, the whole simulated man-hunt in the forest gives a strange feeling and makes you wonder where the meat on the table comes from.

All of the films had something interesting, at least in their concept idea. It’s just that most of them leave loose ends or just don’t manage to live up to a good start. Wanting to put your thoughts and feelings into a film is a good enough reason to make one, but they still have to express themselves a little louder in order to be heard.

By Mirona Nicola

interview

Diego and Daniel VEGA

Directors of Octubre (Peru) - Un Certain Regard

October is "purple month" in Lima. It’s the colour of the habits worn by thousands of people during the biggest religious procession, adoring the image of the "Lord of Miracles". In the Vega brothers’ first feature Octubre, a moneylender, his newborn son from relations with a prostitute and a devout mature single woman from the neighbourhood see new emotional attachments grow during this special period.

How did you come up with the story presented in Octubre?

Diego: It’s quite difficult to explain [...] it was a long way and the only thing that remains from the original story is a bill (a fake bill, like in Bresson’s film) which doesn’t really "travel" so much. We wrote 10 versions of the script so the differences are quite big. But if we had to choose what made us get to the final character and conflicts I’d say that from the beginning we created kind of "unstructured families": either a family member was missing, or they had very particular relationships with one other. We started writing about 5 unstructured families and ended

up telling the story about an "attempt to build a family".

Placing the story in such traditional month for Lima might imply that the city has a strong presence in the film. Is this the case?

Diego: We decided to set the story in October because we believe there are miracles happening in the story. But when we say miracles we mean "small things" with the power of changing people’s lives. Regarding the city’s presence, Octubre is more of an "inner" film where the city has its presence through the characters. I think you can feel [Lima], but we believe we’ve done a very universal and simple story that could happen anywhere.

How do you divide tasks during the creative process?

Diego: We’ve done just one short and one feature together, so we can’t yet talk about a working method. As I’m a screenwriter, I’m the one who sits down for writing when we start and Daniel works more on rewritings. But the key is to talk a lot. We bring up the topics, books or films, and we have long conversations that

normally end abruptly because one of us falls asleep.

Daniel: During shooting I take care of the visual part and Diego works with the actors, but everything is discussed beforehand and very clear for both of us. The idea is to avoid stepping on one another’s indications.

When you first began to consider making films, what did you think of Peruvian cinema?

Diego: When I first thought about making films I was living in Madrid and was completely alien to Peruvian cinema. I was studying Economics and had seen very few Peruvian films (mainly Francisco Lombardi’s).

Later when I decided to study cinema and went to Cuba I had the opportunity to watch plenty of films and more cinema from my country.

Daniel: If I’m really honest, I thought of it more as a dream. I got back to Peru in ‘99 after ten years living abroad. I crashed with reality. I had to start to look for a job and I didn’t know anybody. It was very difficult.

I remembered just a few days ago, that when we got the first recognition for the script of

Octubre in 2006 by the Fundación Carolina and the Casa de América in Spain, I decided to go because it was a great opportunity, but I had to leave my wife and son here for 2 months.

And we weren’t exactly rich.

One day my wife called me and said "I don’t have a dime to buy food". I was there in Spain and my family was here having difficulties. Looking back I say it was worth it, but at the time, I thought about giving up a lot.

How do you see Peruvian cinema now? As part of a new generation that are selected in Berlin, Venice, Sundance, and Cannes.

Diego: We’re still excited with the selection for Cannes, so now all is great. But we know there’s a long way to go and this is just the beginning. If we don’t keep working and trying to improve, this won’t become a career. What we need in our country are filmmakers with long careers, making many films of different genres (horror, noir, comedy, experimental, etc.). We need to create new references for the upcoming filmmakers.

By Laslo Rojas