Nisimazine San Sebastián 2014 #2

Nisimazine

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REVIEW 24th September 2014

SAN SEBASTIÁN

the magazine by NISI MASA - European Network of Young Cinema

The New Girlfriend Marshland A Second Chance Silent Heart Hermes Paralluelo

from Mashland by Alberto Rodríguez

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Editorial We’ve already spent half of the festival watching movies non-stop and most of us have the strange feeling of not having seen any life-changing movie so far. However, it happens that some of the most interesting films that we are seeing these days are Basque productions, the Spanish region where the San Sebastian Film Festival takes place.

Basque cinema seems predominant in this 62nd edition, getting nice rounds of applause. On one hand, one of the festival favourites by far, Loreak (‘flowers’ in Basque), by Jose Mari Goenaga and Jon Garaño, which happens to be the first film shot entirely in the Basque language competing for the Golden Shell. Intimate and sensitive, the film breaks with the idea that basque cinema can only be enjoyed in the Basque Country.

Knowing the tumultuous political history of the Basque Country it´s understandable that many of their productions talk about this issue, which for many years has been, and still is today, a taboo. The Basque director Borja Cobeaga dares, in his latest feature, Negociador, to use comedy to narrate a sensitive issue for the region and Spain as a whole: the

CREDITS NISIMAZINE SAN SEBASTIÁN 18 - 27 / 09 2014 Edition of 24nd September 2014

negotiation of a truce between the Spanish government and ETA, the terrorist group.

Also related to ETA, we will get a chance to see, in the next few days, Lasa and Zabala by Pablo Malo, a film about the kidnapping of two members of the armed gang. Political or author-like, the truth is that Basque cinema is in good shape and San Sebastian is the perfect setting to launch a different movie.

But the Nisimazine team is not only discovering the richness of the region´s filmmaking crop, but also diving into the diverse programme of the festival to write about titles such as François Ozon´s light comedy The New Girlfriend, Alberto Rodriguez´s La isla mínima, the proof that the thriller genre is a more than settled in Spain, or two of the most powerful Danish entries of the year, Silent Heart by Bille August and A Second Chance by Oscar winner Susanne Bier. And there is still time for a conversation with Hermes Paralluelo, director of Not all is Vigil.

Read, enjoy and get ready because this is just an appetizer for what is to come in our Nisimazine San Sebastián 2014 e-book.

Lucía Ros Serra (Spain)

EDITORIAL STAFF Director Fernando Vasquez Design & Coordination Francesca Merlo, Luisa Riviere, Lucía Ros Serra Communication Ewa Wildner Contributors to this issue Hugo Gomes, Matthew Turner, Robyn Davis, Tara Karajica, Lucía Ros Serra, , Mariana Mendes (photographer).

NISI MASA European Network of Young Cinema 99 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis 75010, Paris, France +33 (0)1 48 01 65 31 europe@nisimasa.com www.nisimasa.com www.nisimazine.eu A magazine published by NISI MASA in the framework of a film journalism workshop for young Europeans Special thanks to José Luis Rebordinos , Gemma Beltrán and Nekane Miranda

With the support of the Youth in Action of the European Union. This project has been funded with support from the European Commission. This publication reflects the views only of the author, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.

@ Mariana Mendes

Picture of the day

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REVIEW

The New Girlfriend François Ozon, FRANCE - Official Selection Arriving at a period where sexuality is at the forefront of public discussion in France, François Ozon had the potential to deliver a timely address on a subject much in need of mature screen representation.

With The New Girlfriend, a gender bending screwball comedy, the prolific French director with an eye for provocation miscues, trivialising the issue entirely.

Opening boldly, Ozon pans out gradually from a series of obscured facial close-ups to reveal Laura (Isild Le Besco) in full profile. Clad in a wedding dress, resting serenely in a casket, she is a sleeping beauty who will not be awoken. Absent from the rest of the film in person, her spirit remains a presence as those close to her engage in a new chapter in their lives.

Switching jarringly in tone, Ozon moves to show Laura’s best friend Claire, (Anaîs Demoustier) meeting with husband David (Romain Durras) to address the bereavement. A sombre circumstance twists outrageously when Claire walks into David’s home to find him in full wig and makeup, proudly modelling his wife’s best dress. From here on, Ozon takes material that could have made an compelling psychodrama and pushes it ever further into absurdity, frustrating matters further with each increasingly ridiculous development.

In an act of bizarre reanimation, David keeps the memory of his deceased wife alive by assuming her gender, embracing his desire to cross-dress as warped bereavement therapy. Impersonating her image begins as “something to remember her by,” but quickly becomes more than a ritualistic pleasure. David becomes Virginia and a new relationship is born in the sexually confused sisterhood of Claire and Virginia.

This is precisely the kind of complex, politically-charged material then that demands serious treatment. Yet in Ozon’s film, this befuddlement leads to a series of romps involving lower back waxing, forgotten lipstick, misunderstood fumblings and a particularly nau-

seous shopping trip montage scene set to Katy Perry’s ‘Hot & Cold.’

Before long, David has gone full drag (chicken fillets, crotch-tuck and garter belt) and seems to have finally found some kind of inner peace. He announces that if “girls are born in flowers, and boys in cabbages” he “was born in a cauliflower.” Ozon is responsible enough to avoid suggesting that his desire to cross-dress comes entirely from bereavement, suggesting instead that trauma can surface long repressed urges and reveal new ones as well.

In a delicately handled scene near the film’s denouement, Virginia stares longingly into the eyes of a drag-queen in a cabaret bar, find a sense of belonging that had been evasive before. Left here on this sensitive note, The New Girlfriend’s story might have seemed believable. That it is instead interrupted violently is a given in a film that asks for far more than a reasonable amount of suspension of disbelief.

In an admittedly unforgiving role, Romain Duris is unconvincing in either gender position, exaggeratedly queenish as Virginia and forgettable as David. Anaîs Demoustier fares little better, but it is most likely Ozon’s screenplay (adapted from a Ruth Rendell short story) that is to blame. Every plot point that could be predicted occurs, and whenever Ozon feels a twist he has committed to is a stretch too far, he wimps out with a fake-out dream sequence.

A film that deals with gender identity issues is welcome, but it´s hard to believe The New Girlfriend is the film Ozon envisioned. In a film of contradictory, abrasive tones, Ozon expects his audience to empathise with our displaced protagonist, whilst simultaneously inviting the viewer to laugh cruelly at his/her suffering. We are not always born into the bodies we want to be in and to an extent the film does well to recognise this but perhaps comedy, at least as broad as this, is not the vehicle in which to explore this line of thought. Or perhaps it should just be left to Almodovar?

Matthew Turner (UK)

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to two ambiguous detectives (Javier Gutiérrez and Raúl Arévalo), both marked by a tragic and dark past.

Marshland Alberto Rodríguez, SPAIN - Official Selection The first impression, and perhaps the only relevant fact, we can take in Mashland is that the region of Andalusia is a «small» paradise to be visited as soon as possible. Otherwise were faced simply with a «local thriller» infected by numerous influences and «mannerisms» of the genre, as well as the typical response provided by television production.

In the end of the screening, comparisons were being thrown around everywhere; from TV hit series True Detective TV series, to the famous Coen brother’s classic Fargo, or even French crime movies like Crimson Rivers by Mathieu Kassovitz. It appears that Marshland was designed to please thriller fans without looking for any other major challenges, since it’s structurally a formatted film that is merely built with the elements for success.

This ambitious Spanish production leads us initially to fine, yet gratuitous, topographical sequences of the region in order to acclimatize the audience to such mild and humid plains, which held the plot together. Then we see the palpable clichés - two young girls disappear without a trace and the mission to find them is trusted

The director Alberto Rodriguez was born in the same region that serves Marshland´s scenario, which explains the visual allure and the constant demonstrations of the territory´s beauty, as well as the transformation of this paradise region into a desolate and obscure land. Marshland is competent in terms of rhythm and not violence shy at all (thank goodness it’s a European production, so violence is not a problem). As such, this thriller traverses the same usual paths of its predecessors. The solution to rescue Marshland from sheer banality was to create strong characters which would be engraved in the viewer’s mind. But unfortunately the result is a promising yet mere limited draft. We feel the need for such character development, but there is something preventing it from taking place. Marshland chose to be restricted, to being an ordinary thriller, satisfied in just being entertainment, despite the fact that this narrative demanded broader horizons and better methods to reach its goals. The same disease affects the acting, effective but inevitably reduced by the limitations of the characters.

The plot has another disadvantage; the intensity is faded with the arrival of the expected and biggest climax, leaving too many «loose ends» that result in the abandonment of expectations by the audience. Even further, we are still given the right to be presented to a final twist just. Yes sir, I must confess that as expected there is nothing particularly surprising nor relevant to this simply visual thriller.

Still on this twist, it is true that no one is innocent in this hypocritical world of appearances, but why continuing to show this dark side of life with an obvious black-and-white perspective? Why is it that Spain maintains Franco´s regime as a taboo in Cinema?

Why is there a fear of addressing the past, sticking the finger in the wound? Touching the issue and then “run away like a coward” is worst then not mentioning the issue at all. Unfortunately that is exactly what Marshland does “successfully”, in a two much of a mainstream format.

Hugo Gomes (Portugal)

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REVIEW

A Second Chance Susanne Bier, DENMARK - Official Selection A Second Chance, Susanne Bier’s latest film is an ambitious psychological drama with a thriller mien penned by Bier’s regular collaborator Anders Thomas Jensen. The film premiered in the Special Screenings section at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival and screened in Competition at the 62nd San Sebastian Film Festival.

A Second Chance follows, compares and contrasts two families in a provincial Danish town. Andreas is a police detective who lives with his wife Anne and their baby son Alexander in a seaside house (that looks like an abode from an interior design magazine). In contrast, we have Tristan, a scoundrel junkie and ex-con who lives with his girlfriend Sanne and their baby boy Sofus, frightfully neglected by his parents, ceaselessly crying and constantly covered in his own excrement. During an attempt to arrest Tristan for drug-related delinquency with his alcoholic colleague Simon, Andreas tries to have Sofus taken in by social services but the authorities do not possess enough ground to act accordingly. However, a tragic and unexpected turn of events sets in motion a series of occurrences that will have a dramatic impact on both families.

On the surface, one might argue that A Second Chance tries to oppose good, rich parenting to shameful, working-class parenting. But, underneath, its plot twists are devised to change these class presumptions by disclosing that not everything is what it seems in Andreas and Anne’s lives. A Second Chance is a film about fatherhood and motherhood alike although it takes a strong stab at mothers, delving more into the post-partum depression that gives more ambivalence and layers to Anne’s character. Sanne, on the other hand, is guilty of neglecting her infant to very revolting extents and Anne’s cold rich bitch mother has not even deigned to meet her grandchild.

But, the evident backlash against mothers is not the only issue addressed in this film. As a matter of fact, fatherhood is seldom characterized like this in films. Often, we tend to see fathers more commonly portrayed playing with or taking care of slightly older children. In that regard, Nikolaj CosterWaldau does exactly the contrary to what his Game of Thrones character Jaime Lannister does, throwing a child out the windows in the series; here he is making desperate and hare-brained measures to save a child and his own family. And, precisely there is tackled the issue of choice and decision making along with its consequences as well as that of pain and constant moral dilemmas.

The acting is uniformly outstanding and strong as the ensemble truthfully, compellingly and emotionally inhabits their characters, giving them many subtle layers. D.p. Michael Snyman captures the family’s pain and agony through beautifully lensed close-ups in a chiaroscuro palette, something that Bier recurs to very often throughout the film. Johan Söderqvist’s score also contributes to bringing out the emotional weight of the film’s premise and from the beginning, the foreboding sound thereof announces that something bad is about to happen, heightened by eerie shots of fog-covered bridges, naked wintry trees, and stormy waters.

Ultimately, with a Nordic noir feel, A Second Chance is an uncompromisingly brutal, dark and disturbing yet very poignant drama about the sad fact that many of us do not grasp or grab the potential of a second chance.

Tara Karajica (Spain)

It’s in many ways a typical familial drama, addressing the sort of relationship conflicts that have been seen time and time before and lean towards being clichéd. But what elevates Silent Heart higher than similar films is its focus on truly complex and intriguing characters. Everyone has their own story to tell, and no one is as they initially seem: immaturity becomes wisdom, an overbearing nature becomes relaxed and caring, and loyalty turns to deceit. It’s character development at its best, and it’s very gratifying to watch.

Silent Heart Bille August, DENMARK- Official Selection Right from the outset, and as suggested by the title, the general ambiance given off by Bille August’s latest film is that of great tranquility. The opening wide lens shots of the beautiful Danish countryside set against a melodic score results in a calming and incredibly atmospheric introduction. It’s therefore surprising that Silent Heart is essentially a movie about imminent death, about the loss of a woman’s life and her family’s inability to do anything about it – other than wait.

Yet calm and collected is exactly how Esther feels about her own passing: rather than succumb to a terminal illness that will leave her paralysedand unaware, she plans to take a concoction of pills and fall asleep peacefully after one final weekend together with her family. Naturally, not all of her loved ones are quite so happy with this arrangement (particularly daughters Heidi and Sanne) and disagreements about their mother’s fate cause family tensions to come to a head.

By far the most accomplished thing about Silent Heart is its incredible ability to evoke emotion, not just a single mood or response but a whole spectrum of them. A film about death doesn’t have to be macabre, that much is clear. The humour employed here is raucously funny while never feeling forced, developing naturally as it does in real social gatherings. A large majority of the comedy comes from Sanne’s partner Dennis, who reaches his full potential in a scene where he leads all three generations of the family in a game of ‘pass the joint’. His dialogue and general demeanour provide necessary light heartedness and some real warmth, and the overall effect is rather touching.

Of course, the sadness is inevitable (and inescapable, due to being confined to a single location throughout the entirety of the film) and the onset of a sombre mood can be both immediate and utterly disarming. This is aided by the consistent presence of beautiful cinematography, capturing rolling winter mist over the fields that surround the house and setting the tone perfectly. It’s a credit to the film that it’s able to produce such emotion with regards to a subject that the audience is prepared for from the start.

There are a few strands of the story that are tied up a bit too easily and seem overly convenient, but this is all but forgotten as the conclusion draws in. Coming full circle, Silent Heart ends as it began: serene, tranquil, and unforgettably haunting.

Robyn Davies (UK)

©Mariana Mendes

Interview with

Hermes Paralluelo Director of ‘Not all is Vigil’ - New Directors - Spain

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INTERVIEW

Hermes Paralluelo is one of Spain´s most promising rising stars. He landed here at the San Sebastian Film Festival, his native countries largest and most influential showcase, with a daring look at the fear of death, called Not all is Vigil. Casting his own grandparents is only one of many signs that his youthful approach can easily assume a more classic structure. Our report Robyn Davies caught up with the young director to know more about his presence here at the festival.

You used your own grandparents for the lead roles in the film. How did that decision come about?

Well, the whole idea for the film started because I missed my grandparents. I had been living in Argentina, and then in Spain, and the long distance made me think that I wanted to make a film about them to feel closer to them. At first I thought about using actors, so I started writing the script and constructing the characters. But during this process, I realised that my grandparents had all the characteristics I wanted, so surely they can do a better job than any actors!

I also realised that they both had a very good, very weird quality for cinema: they don’t put on a show. All of us are so used to showing ourselves to others in a way that we want to be seen, but Felisa and Antonio have no need for that anymore. They are what they are, and that’s it. Filming that is very relaxing for me.

Was it challenging working with them?

My grandparents had no experience whatsoever. The first acting they ever did was on day 1 of rehearsals! We began rehearsals 6 months previous to shooting and that’s when we started with the dialogue, but my grandmother doesn’t have a good memory so it ended up being useless trying to do things too early. That’s why it was very important to repeat, repeat, repeat! Obviously, there were a lot of takes and a lot of things we needed to reshoot.

Is the film fictional, or is it essentially a documentary?

Well, everything is real – they are real. But the things I see in them, their feelings and the way they make me feel, I view as a kind of fiction because it’s so intense. So I constructed fiction that is rooted in reality. My last film was a documentary, so that definitely affected the way I shot this one, and is why it looks like one. The most important thing to me is the person on screen, and trying to understand the complexity of that human being, and shooting in a documentary style allows you to be close enough to do that.

Was there a particular moral message you wanted to get across in terms of how society treats the elderly? At times I found myself very frustrated with them, then felt guilty! Is this what you wanted?

It’s not just about older people, it’s about society in general – we have a lack of attention. We don’t focus on anything, and I made sure that the movie had very few elements to it so that the audience would have to pay attention all the time. I remember when I was staying with my grandparents, and they were telling me stories, and I wasn’t listening! And I thought: “why didn’t I listen? Now that story is lost!” So in the movie, you’ll find several stories that can no longer be lost – because you’ll be forced to concentrate. Staying for a long time in the same place (with the same person) is a revolutionary idea to me, and I wanted the film to show that.

What was the process of getting the film funded?

I met the Colombian co-producers at a workshop in Venezuela, and it was there that they became interested. Financing was actually a matter of urgency for me. Obviously my grandparents are very old now, so I couldn’t really wait for the funding – I started shooting without it. This actually turned out to be a good thing. I feel much more comfortable dealing with images than with text, so being able to actually show what the film looks like helped convince them to fund it, I think.

Robyn Davies (UK)

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