Cambridge Film Festival Review 2017: Issue 1

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THE CAMBRIDGE FILM FESTIVAL REVIEW 2017

Issue 1

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KING OF THE BELGIANS INSIDE:

ASK THE SEXPERT

Meet Mumbai’s most talked-about columnist

A TASTE OF INK

An Oedipal tale of father-son rivalry

RÖKKUR

This will give you all manner of chills...

PLUS

NEWS

REVIEWS

INTERVIEWS

AWARDS

KÉKSZAKÁLLÚ Screening on Sat 21st Oct at 18.00 and Sun 22nd Oct at 10.30

An outdoor swimming pool. Some children take turns to launch themselves from the diving board. One girl hesitates at the edge, frightened, uncertain. Cut. In KÉKSZAKÁLLÚ - the enthralling latest film from Argentinian director Gastón Solnicki - this simple scene is simultaneously prosaic and charged.

It is a film potent with contradictions: the sparse narrative is loosely structured, while the individual scenes have the observational intensity of a documentary. Solnick’s inspired, beautiful static shot compositions, are precise while seeming casual, never ostentatious.

The story which gradually emerges centres on various female characters, some related to each other, some friends, all part of an upper class milieu; and all tentatively finding their way in the world. These are young people about to enter the confusing world of adulthood. We watch them on holiday, in their families, with friends, and at work. The power of this film is not to be found in the drama of plot development but - another contradiction - the impressionistically realist observation of these characters, and our fascination with the unfolding mysteries.

KÉKSZAKÁLLÚ finds meaning in the tiniest of details, and revelation in subtlest of connections.

The title KÉKSZAKÁLLÚ turns out to be as oblique and intriguing as the film itself. It is Hungarian for ‘Bluebeard’, in acknowledgement of Solnick’s inspiration for the film - Bela Bartok’s one act, twocharacter, opera, BLUEBEARD’S CASTLE. The director’s own attempts to explain the connections make it hard to see them as anything more than tangential and highly personal. However, one thematic clue that Bartok’s innovative opera may provide is the insistence of Bluebeard’s new wife, the strong compelling Judith, that her husband open the doors to all the closed rooms in the castle.

István Kertész, who conducted the London Symphony Orchestra in their 1965 performance of the play, theorised that Bluebeard was Bartók's author avatar, representing his private anguish which is gradually and aggressively exposed by Judith.

The prologue, which is often left out, suggests that the whole story unfurls in the imagination of the audience...

(Illustration of Bluebeard by Gustave Doré)

ÉKSZAKÁLLÚ also focusses on female characters at the threshold of opening the doors to adulthood, though the the tone of the storytelling in the film has none of the gothic horror that awaits Judith behind some of those locked rooms. Indeed, the film is anything but operatic. It is decidedly low-key; an alluring exploration through a maze of seemingly unconnected scenes.

Perhaps a better comparison than BLUEBEARD’S CASTLE is a film by one of Solnick’s compatriots, the masterful director Lucretia Martel. LA CIÉNAGO (THE SWAMP) is her unsettlingly, atmospheric depiction of upper class Argentinians who are unable to gain satisfaction or fulfilment from the freedoms of their wealth. In the same way that Martel’s way with narrative is more sensitive to the non-sequiturs and ellipses of emotional logic than the mapping of plot points, so KÉKSZAKÁLLÚ finds meaning in the tiniest of details, and revelation in subtlest of connections.

At the end of KÉKSZAKÁLLÚ, one of the main characters acts decisively (I shan’t say any more than that). It is typically treated in a matter of fact way, yet it feels momentous and full of potential hope; establishing KÉKSZAKÁLLÚ as a film which will stay with you long after you’ve left the cinema.

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More reviews, interviews, features and unabridged versions of all our printed content at takeonecff.com

- Mike O’Brien

King Of The Belgians In a trailer for the BBC News Channel’s film programme, Mark Kermode riffs on his verdicts on a variety of genres: for “Mockumentary” he asks, “Is it as good as SPINAL TAP? No...” It’s easy to see why, as that mixture of deadpan acting and absolute seriousness and self-belief in the face of completely ridiculous situations is very hard to pull off.

across the Balkan states, taking in a village yogurt contest, a former Serbian sniper, and a helpful bunch of Bulgarian golems last seen in TONI ERDMANN - these set-pieces all helping to unbend Nicolas’s character and undermine Ludovic’s idea of monarchy as representing “the ultimate expression of dignity, grace and grand ideas”.

But KING OF THE BELGIANS has a pretty good try, and for the most part succeeds. The story, by legitimate documentary-makers Peter Brosens and Jessica Woodworth, is based on an incident in 2010 when the Icelandic volcano Eyjafjallajškull erupted, its vast clouds of ash closing international airspace. Among those grounded was the President of Estonia, who was forced to make his improvised way home from Turkey across the Balkans.

“the ultimate expression of dignity, grace and grand ideas”...

Here it is King Nicolas III (Peter Van Den Begin) - uptight, unworldly and under the thumb of his overbearing Queen - whose unwilling attendance in Istanbul at a supremely dull trade fair is curtailed by the news that Wallonia has seceded from Belgium, at the exact moment that a solar storm prevents any air travel. Attended by his equally stiff Chief of Protocol Ludovic (Bruno Georis), his starchy Head of Press Relations Louise (Lucie Debay) and more mischievous valet Carlos (Titus de Voodgt) Nicolas decides to go back, against the advice of the frankly threatening head of Turkish security.

... the royal entourage escapes Turkey in drag ...

Luckily a fixer is on hand in the shape of Duncan Lloyd (Pieter van der Houwen), a blowsy film-maker (with a touch of Ken Russell-in-lateryears) hired by the Queen to make a flattering and uncontroversial documentary about Nicolas. Lloyd has or can make contacts everywhere and the royal entourage escapes Turkey in drag on a tour bus belonging to folk-singers The Black Sea Sirens. Now pursued by the Turkish authorities, the party makes its stumbling progress

Though the Black Sea Sirens scene momentarily threatens to topple KING OF THE BELGIANS over into slapstick, it soon settles down as a genial road movie, sure-footed in its handling of mismatched characters in the manner say of Robert De Niro and Charles Grodin in MIDNIGHT RUN. And there are many subtle comic touches along the way: the Black Sea Sirens’ song is noisily interrupted by an irate mother, insisting they perform more traditional material.

After the King insists on taking the wheel of an ambulance - one of many ramshackle vehicles used to get the party across Europe - the film cuts to show the ambulance upended in a ditch. An easy funny moment - except it’s then revealed that Nicolas has served to avoid a turtle crossing the road, and is thus a useful character moment. Just as with the revered SPINAL TAP, by the end of KING OF THE BELGIANS, you care. - Andrew Nickolds

See KING OF THE BELGIANS at the Picturehouse on: Friday 20th at 17:45 Saturday 21st at 12:45

@ReelWomenUK promotes the work of female filmmakers. Look out for their logo in the Festival programme to find films dircted by women.

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ASK THE SEXPERT Screening on Tue 24th at 19:30 at the Picturehouse, and on Thu 26 at 14:15 at the Moving Cinema

Banana alert. This preview contains suggestive allusions – carrots and mascara tubes also appear in ways that may offend. If honest, frank and grown-up discussions about sexual activity shock you; if the actual names of genitalia embarrass, then the film ASK THE SEXPERT – and this preview - may not be for you. But hey, maybe it’s time you changed?

Vaishali Sinha’s documentary, filmed in Mumbai, tracks the work of one of that Indian city’s most talked about people. The columnist of the Mumbai Mirror newspaper, known as Dr Watsa the ‘Sexpert’, has been giving advice on sexual matters for years. Not known by sight to most citizens, vox pops reveal that young Mumbai folk think of the wise sexologist as a rather handsome chap in his thirties – forty, tops. In fact Dr Mahindra Wata, for it is he, was 90 years old when this film was made.

Age certainly has not withered him but for his readers, withering is definitely an issue. Sinha’s loving camera follows the endearing old chap around his large villa, and we watch as he uses a magnifying glass to read the day’s emailed questions. Most are from men, we are told: these are about fear of inadequacy in the erection department, or worries about penis girth. Premature ejaculation is a regular; dismay at not satisfying partners, or factual queries about contraception methods. Men want to know if wearing two condoms at a time doubles the safety level; one wants to discover if pouring lemon juice on his wife’s vagina will prevent a pregnancy after sex. The laconic Dr Watsa asks the questioner if he’s some kind of lemonade vendor looking for a new business opportunity. Sex can be funny, and the film is suffused with such humour.

But of course in India, as in all countries, sex can also be no laughing matter - especially where it is associated with violent and non-consensual acts and where it rubs up against codes of religious morality. Not everyone in 21st century India is in favour of Watsa’s open, matter-of-fact, Kinsey-like attitude to sexual matters. We follow the progress of a case brought against Watsa for moral corruption. The protagonist rails against the immorality of the column, citing the good (or bad) doctor’s opinion that using a mascara tube instead of a dildo is fine as long as it is clean – cut to images of a veg market in which, yes, carrots are glimpsed. What emerges from this utterly captivating movie is a country at a turning point – old and new colliding, attitudes shifting yes but for many in a glacially slow way. Issues that affect all of us in any country are raised: the importance of good sex education, the subject of consent and rape, the clash of religion and free will. Yet these issues are dealt with in the lightest and most sensitive way. The sparky nonagenarian is such a charmer – the epitome of the wisdom of age. He is so camera friendly that it can’t take its beady lens off him. And no wonder. This is a movie that will educate, entertain and make you smile, think and laugh out loud. If you don’t love it you must be, well, bananas.

- Mike Levy Director Matt Stuertz’s second feature film, TONIGHT SHE COMES, is a combination of classic horror tropes and a nostalgically glorious shout out to the 80s with a contemporary twist. CABIN FEVER meets PET SEMATARY meets TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE - combined with classic POV shots reminiscent of BLACK CHRISTMAS and FRIDAY THE 13TH. TONIGHT SHE COMES is a smorgasbord of over-the-top gore, sex, evil hillbillies, satanic blood sacrifices and the supernatural - what more could you want?

The film connects a group of strangers after a girl goes missing. As the truth about the girl’s disappearance is revealed, her friends are left fighting for their lives, running from a seemingly unstoppable killer. What follows is a surreal set of events that cements the future cult status of this 70s and 80s slasher-inspired horror. Lovers of early slasher cinema will feel right at home in the arms of this insanely disturbing and outrageous take on the genre. The extreme body horror and often comically excessive gore will have audiences in stitches one minute and searching for a pillow to hide behind the next. TONIGHT SHE COMES doesn’t just stop at slasher territory either: Stuertz has successfully destroyed any lines that could restrict the rich tapestry of horror sub-genres this film brilliantly weaves together.

With underlying themes of female sexuality wrapped in a horror guise, TONIGHT SHE COMES has the power to provoke discussion as well as provoking your gag reflex. Stuertz has clearly had fun with this but hasn’t forgotten the substance which busts through the film’s blood-soaked aesthetic. The synth score alone, courtesy of Wojciech Golczewski, is something to behold and the way Stuertz exaggerates the audio means a phone ringing is enough to make you jump. As the film so generously suggests: This film should be played loud as hell. This unrelenting gore-fest is a must for fans of grind-house and for those just looking to get their yearly horror fix in one sitting. The merging of classic genre conventions and with its pick ‘n’ mix of horror tropes from across sub-genres, makes TONIGHT SHE COMES an homage that horror fans have been waiting for. - April McIntyre

APH Sat 21@ 22:30 and Wed 25@ 23:00 2

India Unboxed/Lates@APH

a taste of ink

After the devastating loss of his mother, 24 year old Vincent has made his peace with the less than perfect relationship he has with his father, choosing to divert his energy into drinking, tattoos and screaming his throat raw as the front man for a hardcore rock band.

It’s only when a new, younger woman comes into his father’s life that the resentment and tensions begin to resurface, made all the more complicated by the connection that she and Vincent share. With a gnarly facade of punk rock and body art, first time director Morgan Simon digs deeper than the sweat and ink, delivering a tightly scripted familial drama with a strong focus on its delicately layered characters.

Winding down from a gig with his band, Seven Day Diary, Vincent (Kévin Azaïs) adds to his extensive collection of tattoos with a portrait of his mother on the side of his neck. When his friend, band-mate and artist wipes away the last of the blood and ink, Vincent admires the piece, commenting that his mother would have loved it. Then it’s time for the next one. The artist scoffs, and admits that he thought the second idea was a joke, before settling in to etch a matching portrait of Vincent’s dad on the other side of his neck.

This opening set of sequences, in which we see Vincent firstly screaming his soul out to a crowd of adoring fans, and then as a canvas being printed with portraits of his parents whom he clearly holds in high regard, presents the protagonist as he would like to be seen: infallible, invincible and above all else, individual. As soon as he returns home and is alone with his father, however, it becomes clear that this is a film about everything that lies beneath that pretence. From his first words - a sarcastic, mirthless “well done” as Vincent spills a pan of water - Hervé (Nathan Willcocks) shows himself to be withdrawn and distant, more interested in pursuing his relationship with new flame, Julia (Monia Chokri), than consoling his clearly still grieving son.

Azaïs offers a heartbreaking look at a boy who wants nothing more than the affection and approval of his father...

As the nucleus around which the entire narrative revolves, the dysfunctional relationship between Hervé and Vincent, as well as the fallout from their tragic loss, is given plenty of room to expand and evolve, driven by the tangible energy wrought from its two male leads. As Vincent, Azaïs perfectly presents the masquerade of manliness that is almost a second skin for a twenty-something male trying desperately to avoid the pain that lies just below his surface. Opposite the emotionally dexterous and readily expressive Vincent, it would be easy to confuse Willcocks’ Hervé for a stone wall, so little does he show his true feelings. Instead he blocks and deflects, covering insecurity with poor attempts at comedy and over-exaggerated examples of masculinity. Across the film Hervé clashes with his son emotionally, ideologically and, once the battle for Julia’s affections begin, sexually. With each contest, Willcocks bring a tense desperation to the role, barely concealed by a guise of confidence that is even shakier than Vincent’s, embodying a man who feels himself slowly fading, and is becoming ever more threatened by his rapidly burgeoning son.

The idea of tattooing, the covering of skin with colourful, more attractive ink, is here representative of the tendency of the men to paint over their true feelings with a facade that they deem to be stronger, more masculine, and of course the inherent implication that tattooed skin tears just as easily. This thin presentation of manliness, which is perpetrated by men across the world, is not only the thing that forces such a rift between father and son, it is ironically the thing that they have most in common.

Much like a tattoo, A TASTE OF INK is a film that may sting occasionally, but the end result is something truly beautiful.

- Ben Johnston, Deputy Editor

Picturehouse screening at 15:10 on Friday 20th October www.takeonecff.com | @takeonecinema

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Rökkur

Rift

A couple of nights before Christmas, Gunnar, a man in his late thirties, drives to an isolated cabin in the middle of the Icelandic wild to check on his former lover, Einar, having received a distressing phone call from him about a mysterious presence in the night.

Judging by the clichéd drive to the cabin, the viewer might settle in for a by-the-numbers cabin-in-the-woods affair. Gunnar, alone in his car, alone on the dark road; the thick curtain of darkness barely pierced by the headlights, and yes, of course there is a glimpse of a figure at the edge of the road, standing by a red jeep only to disappear in the night. We have seen it all before, and the melodramatic made-for-late-night-tv piano music does not help either. But, after setting such a familiar scene, the movie takes us on a surprisingly intricate journey which, though rarely frightening, is constantly unsettling.

At its start the film moves quite quickly. Before Gunnar’s trip to see Einar begins, we first see the two in a very short scene, on a balcony at a party shortly after their break-up. Similar to the character introduction in the plays of old, we get a summary of the possibly alcoholic, emotionally unstable, needy Einar who reaches out for salvation to the controlling, distant Gunnar, who only wants to move on.

It is quite telling that the strength of the character and relationship writing is so strong that the film could have ditched its mystery plot in its entirety, and it still would have made a compelling drama about people dealing with their lost relationship and their place in the world after the break-up. Actually, with just a few tonal changes the film could have made a charming but honest, bitter-sweet indie comedy.

... a surprisingly intricate journey which, though rarely frightening, is constantly unsettling.

However, the thriller element of the venture soon manifests itself when an intruder knocks on the door in the middle of the night, only to disappear when the door is opened. The constant and sudden appearance and disappearance of characters is the only hint of supernatural in the film; Gunnar will be standing alone in the middle of a vast field, only for Einar to walk in from just off frame and then disappear within the same shot; an action just at the edge of the physically possible, just enough to keep it ambigous.

A constant stylistic and thematic sense of a perverse voyeurism, long, barely moving shots, and a landscape which is positively claustrophobic in its vast openness and isolation, create a feeling of inescapability which the movie often and aptly ties back to the two men’s relationship and their shared and individual pasts. With a possibly confusing timeline, the film manages to marry depth and ambiguity. Borrowing from such sources as MEMENTO, THE OTHERS, the Icelandic EITHER WAY (remade as the American PRINCE AVALANCHE) and even THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, the piece keeps us interested and tense while also making it unclear if we are watching a ghost story, a murder mystery or a psychological breakdown.

Like a toddler running around or a drunk man dancing, the movie seems constantly at the edge of falling over, and yet it never does until the very end, where we make a short stop at a revelatory moment which almost wraps up many threads beautifully- only to be thrown at the most random of turns. - Mihai Kolcsar Meet the director of ROKKUR at the Picturehouse screening on Friday 20th at 22:30 - or catch the repeat on the 23rd at 22:30.

SCREENING WITH:

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Lates

KATI KATI

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ne Fine Day Films is a venture between German and Kenyan filmmakers, starting with the brilliant SOUL BOY in 2009, where film talent from Germany – headed by director Tom Tykwer (RUN LOLA RUN, CLOUD ATLAS) – mentors and workshops film ideas with Kenyan filmmakers.

18:00 on 21 October at Emmanuel College

“Kati Kati” is a type of purgatory – not Heaven or Hell, but somewhere in between – in the afterlife. The place itself is like a lodge or hotel, where souls find themselves with no explanation or reason, although it may be years after they have died. No one knows how these souls reached this bleak and isolated location, surrounded by African bushland, or how they can ever leave. Souls just seem to come and go without warning. The film opens as Kaleche finds herself here, confused and inquisitive, amongst a number of other souls waiting for what they don’t know. She forms a special bond with Thoma, the longest running resident at Kati Kati; he has been there three years and counting. In this gathering of lost souls, each haunted by demons from their previous life, Kaleche begins to piece together the shards of her own life and the key to leaving Kati Kati.

It is the simple way that a complex idea is told that makes it work.

Opening with a stark, white frame, Kaleche dissolves into focus, surrounded by nothing but bushland. We never discover where she comes from, and nor do we need to know. There is no explanation of the ‘rules’ of Kati Kati – especially how you might leave – only interpretation. It feels like a relief in today’s film world for the filmmakers to assume an intelligent audience. This is partially due to seeing the film from Kaleche’s point of view: herself a sharp and inquisitive soul, seeking out answers at every step. The souls’ previous lives are extremely interesting, particularly because they are only revealed through the appearance of ghosts – again, no flashbacks or overt explanation of any sort – that haunt them, so the audience gets only pieces of their lives and deaths; some more horrific than others. That is not to say that there is a drabness to the characters – in fact, subtle humour and even fun moments, drift in and out of the film, giving the characters an adrift, but human, realness. The landscape is desolate and lonely, with dull, khaki colouring in the background of every shot, which in turn pulls the characters sharply into focus in the foreground. It is as if this place could be anywhere, that it has been forgotten and is so far removed from life that the souls will never escape. This highlights the ambiguity of the film as a whole.

As frightening as it is funny, and as mysterious as it is revealing about universal truths, KATI KATI uses classic techniques to tell a beautiful and thought-provoking story of love, loss, life and death.

- Mike Boyd

MEET THE DIRECTOR OF “STRANGLED”!

Tue 24 @ 21:00 in the Moving Cinema; Thu 26 @ Picturehouse.

Set in provincial Hungary in the 1960s, STRANGLED is the tale of a series of real-life murders that shocked the town of Martfu. Árpád Sopsits’ film focuses on the effect the case has on the convicted man, Reti Akos, and his family’s desire to get him to appeal, due to concerns over the way the case was handled by the local police.

His admission of guilt is the start-off point for some atrocious treatment by his fellow prisoners, but similar murders have started happening again, much to the chagrin of detectives… If you like the crop of Scandinavian thrillers gracing British screens, this will be right up your street.

- John Higgins ALL CONTENT © TAKE ONE 2017 | EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: ROSY HUNT | MANAGING EDITOR: JIM ROSS | DEPUTY EDITORS: BEN JOHNSTON, MARK LIVERSIDGE, STEPHEN WATSON | PHOTOGRAPHY: DAVID RILEY | DESIGN: ROSY HUNT | SPONSOR: ANGLIA RUSKIN UNIVERSITY

Book tickets at cambridgefilmfestival.org.uk or in the Cambridge Arts Picturehouse.

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