MSPIFF - Part One

Now in its 42nd year, Minneapolis is host to the MSP International Film Festival as organized by the MSP Film Society. For 2023 the festival is featuring 190+ films and events from at least 70 different countries and also includes special guests throughout. I've attended many MSPIFF screenings during my time in Minneapolis but when all of our theaters were shuttered, I made myself a promise to attend more festivals and show up for more films. This year, I threw my hat into the arena and was beyond stoked to receive a press pass to MSPIFF. The pass enables me to truly dig into the films and I really can't thank the MSP Film Society and MSPIFF enough for the chance to do so. Outside of my day job responsibilities, I have been doing my level best to hurl myself into as many of the festival offerings as I can ( primarily at the Main Cinema in Minneapolis). This blog space generally follows whatever whims have been striking me, but I would say that the overall trend is towards older films and more genre films than what's represented at MSPIFF. The festival films are newer releases and frequently ones that have really only seen the festival circuit so far - be it TIFF, Venice, Sundance, or others. It's an interesting contrast for me and I'm enjoying seeing, engaging with, and ultimately writing about movies outside of my usual beat. I had considered doing a "best of" collection of capsule reviews, but in the end I've decided to write about everything I see during the festival. I think this better captures the depth and variety of the programming and because the fest goes until the 27th - maybe it will better encourage local readers to come down and check it out.

Day One

Tori and Lokita (2022) - The latest film from Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Palme d'Or nominee is the story of two young people who have formed an intense bond following their journey to Belgium from Africa. Masquerading as siblings in an attempt to improve Lokita's chances of gaining permanent asylum, they are partners in life (and in crime) facing obstacles from the Belgian immigration authorities, the petty crook/restaurant chef they hustle for, and the smuggling ring who helped bring them into the country. I haven't seen as much of the Dardenne's expansive filmography as I'd like, but the naturalistic tone and camerawork were expected and very much appreciated. What I did not anticipate was how much Tori and Lokita leaned into the crime aspects of the story. The feeling of threat and dread is palpable - exacerbated due to the youth of the protagonists - and while I would not begin to describe this as a genre piece, the suspense was genuinely effective. The Dardenne's have made an angry film and a heartbreaking one - the resolution is both disturbing and perhaps inevitable. It was quite a start to my festival experience.

Dreamin' Wild (2022) - Bill Pohlad's latest feature was the "official" festival opener and there was a bit of fanfare associated with it. There was an opening reception, free snacks and drinks, and introductions from both MSP Film Society folks and the director himself. The film was a return to the music biopic for Pohlad (Love & Mercy), this time focusing on the rediscovery of the Emerson Brothers whose independently produced 1979 album, Dreamin' Wild, became something of a sensation after being rereleased by Light in the Attic records in 2012. Casey Affleck gives a fine performance as Donnie Emerson and I can appreciate Pohlad's continued narrative deconstruction - flashing the story backwards, forwards, and even overlapping in time and memory - but I ultimately didn't find the hook for the film. It seemed underwritten to me and while Affleck brings credible anguish to his portrayal - the reasons for that tension aren't well developed. The rest of the cast make for a good ensemble but their characters lacked depth - essentially being perfectly patient and supportive while Affleck lashes out around him. 

Day Two

Nayola (2022) - On the second day I had planned to start with a different film, but life intervened. I enjoy animation and am tangentially familiar with Angolan history so I decided to give Nayola a shot - and I'm so glad that I did. It's an absolutely gorgeous feature that alternates between a more painterly animation for events taking place during the Angolan Civil War and a cell-shaded animation for the more modern sequences. Nayola is in no way an attempt at a strict history of the war but offers impressions of both the war and its aftermath through anecdotal episodes of the three women it focuses on. I expected it to get fairly grim, but I'm not sure I understood how surreal it would become - towards the end there are sequences that (if anything) recall early Lynch or the darker moments of Miyazaki's work. I thought it lost a little narrative thrust somewhere in the middle but it never stops being a joy to look at. One of the things you have to love about festivals is taking a chance on something you know so little about and this is one I'll definitely be recommending to people.

Showing Up (2022) - Kelly Reichardt's latest was one of the tickets I prioritized when planning my fest. I've long admired Reichardt's work even if I'm not a total devotee. I appreciate the elegance of her unhurried, naturalistic compositions though I'm not always deeply affected by them. Showing Up managed to hit me squarely in the funny, sad, neurotic sweet spot and I was totally taken with it. Michelle Williams works again with Reichardt playing an anxious, sometimes prickly, intense artist, Lizzy,  who is working on sculptures for her next show. Lizzy also works at a private art college (and for her mother) while renting an apartment from a fellow artist and school alumni (Hong Chau). There is an immaculate sense of place and community established in Showing Up that is certainly due to the incredible ensemble but is also deeply indebted to the location work - especially the former campus of the Oregon School of Art and Craft. Reichardt's caring familiarity with these oddballs allows her to find the humor in them but never with derision and her patient attention reveals both the frustration and the triumphs of the creative process. The finale nearly lands in screwball comedy territory - which I loved - but Reichardt reels it in to strike a more reflective tone very much in concert with her previous films. Showing Up is probably a movie you don't need me to nudge you towards, but I offer the nudge all the same.

Kokomo City (2023) - Essentially a talking heads documentary focusing on black transgender women who also happen to be sex workers. There's an earnest attempt at a more energetic style of documentary here, but I honestly thought the interviews with the women were more than enough to sell this picture. They are all excellent raconteurs with a great deal of insight not only into their own lives, but the community around them. I think first time filmmaker D. Smith's choice to feature women from at least a couple of different cities was a good one and helps broaden the perspectives on offer. There are also several interviews with men and while I see the larger point in doing so - I found them much less successful. Kokomo City is crammed with an eclectic selection of music and I have to give a shout out to the Stelvio Cipriani track showing up out of nowhere.

Day Three

The Beasts (2022) - A beautifully performed slow burner that is evocative of other rural/urban conflict films but never fully indulges in some of the more well-trod tropes. Denis Ménochet shines as Antoine - a relative newcomer from France to a remote Galician village where he and his wife (the also excellent Marina Foïs) are attempting to live off the land. The film opens with existing tension between Antoine and his neighbors over whether they should sell their properties to developers looking to build wind turbines where the village stands - and things only escalate from there. Antoine's primary antagonist is his closest neighbor Xan, who is played to such chilling effect by Luis Zahera that I continually expected things to get far uglier than they do. Despite this restraint, the sense of dread is pervasive and the threat is impactful when it does ratchet up. There is a significant structural shift later in the film that may or may not succeed with everyone and definitely contributes to the 137 minute runtime - this didn't bother me at all but I was hoping for a more emphatic finale. Going in, I did not realize that The Beasts was loosely based on actual events in Galicia and I can also recommend the 2016 documentary Santoalla as a follow up if you're curious.

I Like Movies (2022) - Very funny, uncomfortably relatable coming-of-age tale set in the Toronto suburbs in the early 00s. I Like Movies is centered on a film-obsessed, socially awkward teenager - Lawrence brought to life by Isiah Lehtinen - who is navigating his last year in high school and harboring dreams of attending NYU film school. After multiple attempts, Lawrence is finally able to get a job at his local video store where he forms a kind of friendship with his older manager, played by Romino D'Ugo. I Like Movies is very much a comedy but writer/director Chandler Levack is not afraid to get dark and Lawrence says some absolutely brutal things to the people around him in the way only teenagers can (and garners some brutal responses as a result). I was not Lawrence as a 17 year old and I came of age in a different time and place but it's hard not to find pieces of this that relate to my own experience. My understanding is that Levack transposed parts of her own life onto Lawrence and perhaps that will help a wider swath of audiences recognize themselves in the character. Of all the films I've seen so far at MSPIFF, this is the one that I think will demand an immediate re-watch from me just to catch more of the movie references that every scene is bursting with. I loved seeing the employee picks wall covered in Vinegar Syndrome releases including Beyond the Door III, Olivia, Dominique, and others. 

The Origin of Evil (2022) - I have sadly not seen Sébastien Marnier's previous feature but the comparisons to Chabrol and Bong Joon-Ho Origin of Evil was already garnering were more than sufficient to draw me to it. The comparisons are apt - it's a sumptuously shot, well performed, twist laden, and (naturally) class conscious thriller that definitely recalls both auteurs. I would also say that I caught some restrained De Palma vibes beginning with the Carrie-esque opening locker room scene to Marnier's use of split screens. There's a lot to like here and while I don't think Origin climbs the heights of something like Parasite or La Cérémonie - it's still incredibly entertaining and kept my tired brain engaged despite the late hour. Laure Calamy is excellent as a working class woman ostensibly looking to reconnect with her estranged, fabulously wealthy father only to find him surrounded by other influential women with their own agendas. In the end, I felt like some of the character motivations were unclear to me, but I still had a blast watching those motivations and machinations unfold. I'll certainly be tracking down his earlier work, but Marnier is officially on my radar as a creator of sophisticated, thoughtful genre pieces and that's something I could definitely do with more of.

Day Four

My Sailor, My Love (2022) - By Sunday, I was winding down a bit and decided to just go for a quick double feature beginning with this Finnish/Irish co-production. I confess a weakness for virtually any film shot in the coastal regions of Ireland and My Sailor is no exception. It features stunning photography of Achill Island, multiple rich golden hour moments, and aerial footage that manages to dispense with that overly-floaty drone feel that often makes modern films look like YouTube videos. My Sailor is also a solid family drama tackling the complexities of grown children and their (frequently) unresolved issues with aging parents. Veterans James Cosmo and Brid Brennan deliver admirable performances as two people finding each other later in life and the film is anchored by Catherine Walker who plays Cosmo's long suffering daughter. I'd only previously seen Walker in the very different film - A Dark Song - which I thought she was also excellent in. My Sailor does lean into the sentimental and I felt like the script was easily the weakest aspect, but everything else was done so competently that I couldn't help but appreciate it.

Mamacruz (2022) - Another Sunday matinee confronting the challenges of aging. While Mamacruz also deals somewhat in unresolved issues between parents and children, it's primarily about unsatiated sexual desire. Prolific actress and Almodovar collaborater, Kiti Mánver, plays the role of Cruz - a devoutly catholic grandmother who is coming to grips with her inner passions. She manages to accidently stumble across some internet porn and (rather conveniently) a therapy group for women looking for increased sexual satisfaction. These experiences help her put words and actions towards what she's feeling as she comes more into herself as a sexual being despite her deep religious convictions. Mamacruz isn't coy about its subject matter and yet it felt rather chaste to me for a film featuring genitalia covered in chocolate sauce or emitting glowing auras. I found it light and charming and particularly enjoyed the support group ensemble. 

I think that's more than enough for a part 1 of festival coverage, but I will be continuing to see more films throughout the week and will have at least a second part forthcoming.

Best New-to-Me: March 2023

 I was listening to an interview with author/photgrapher/wanderer extraordinaire Dan Price where he said something to the effect that while it's good to have friends, it's important that they not become too much of an influence. That's something I think about a lot. I'm not that concerned with friends becoming too much of an influence on me, keeping in touch with people can be challenge enough, but I do try to manage outside influences as best as I can. I'm happiest doing my own thing and while I very much appreciate a nudge here and there, I don't do well following anyone else's curriculum. I've been truly satisfied with my movie-watching over the last month and a lot of that has to do with seeking out whatever has piqued my interest and not following up on too many outside recommendations. Of course, this "feeling" of self-determination is illusory to a large extent. I've watched collections curated by other people, my watchlist is teeming with films that have been suggested to me one way or another, and I'm at the whim of theater and streaming service programmers as much as the next person. Still, if you need someone to encourage you not to get caught up in hype or FOMO, you'll always have an ally here at Kino Ventura.

It wasn't a big month for theatrical viewings for me - some of that was scheduling and some of that was that I just wasn't particularly drawn to what was showing. I did get to see a nearly sold out matinee of Nights of Cabiria which was part of the Italian Film Festival at The Main Cinema. My first viewing of Cabiria was at the now defunct Uptown Theatre shortly after the film had been restored in the 90s. I had no idea what it was besides being a Fellini film, and I was absolutely blown away by what I saw. It remains one of my cherished movie going memories and it was a genuine joy to be back in a theater with people who either loved Cabiria as much as I do or were discovering it for the first time themselves. 

Symphony for a Massacre (1963) - Tremendously enjoyable crime thriller from Jacques Deray featuring some outstanding location work and solid performances. I loved the 60s-cool mood and the extended dialogue free sequences that held my interest as the various plot threads unraveled only to become thoroughly entangled. There's not a big mystery at the heart of this one, but Deray holds the tension brilliantly as the actions and motivations of the characters are unfurled. I confess I do not have a deep affection for the film-noir narration and much prefer this kind of quiet reveal. I also watched Deray's Le Marginal in March which is in many ways a bog-standard popcorn action movie but it won me over with Belmondo, Morricone tunes, 80s France, and some UNREAL stunt work. Deray put out some bangers.

Fail Safe (1964) - I'm not sure what I have to add after finally catching up to Sidney Lumet's sweat and suspense drenched political thriller. It's an absolute masterclass in polished entertainment that's also smart, dark, and disturbingly plausible. I've been meaning to watch it for years and I picked it up while browsing discs at the local library. It felt very much like the video store experience of years gone by which only added to my enjoyment.

Story of Women (1988) - Spurred to viewing by the Criterion Channel's curated selections, I watched a lot of Isabelle Huppert films in March including Chabrol's Story of Women. Set in occupied France, Story delivers a pragmatic and empathetic look at (mostly) women doing what they can to survive and occasionally thrive in a world turned inside out by war and fascism. I was reminded very much of the attitude towards sex, sex work, and the transactional nature of relationships found in French film of the 30s and 40s. This is not the moral rigidity found in American film of the same time and similar themes, it's the kind of attitude that comes from people who survived unjust times and emerged with understanding. Huppert is a delight and Chabrol takes what could have been a ponderous period drama and renders a briskly moving, entertaining, and no-less significant film. I also finally got around to seeing La Cérémonie which I (unsurprisingly) found to be fantastic and will undoubtedly send me on a quest to watch as many of the Huppert/Chabrol collaborations as I can.

Loulou (1980) - I confess that I knew very little of Maurice Pialat when I fired up this Huppert/Gerard Depardieu drama about desire and self-destruction. It's unhurried, it's bleak, and I can see not everyone appreciating Depardeiu's "charm", but I was totally taken with it. Pialat's natural style combined with actors of this quality makes for some beautifully rendered, immediate-feeling sequences that really drew me in. There's a final confrontation of sorts where Huppert attends a Sunday meal at Loulou's (Depardieu) family home that is believably electric with tension, danger, and some tragedy. I was also able to catch A Nos Amours from Pialat which takes his free-form approach and applies it to a brilliant coming of age performance from the (as of yet) untrained Sandrine Bonnaire. Amours contains a wild dinner scene of its own featuring Pialat raging as the patriarch who has managed to alienate himself so thoroughly from his family. Both movies are great and I'm looking forward to catching up with more of Pialat's directorial filmography.

Amateur (1994) - I'm not a year-round Criterion Channel subscriber but I like to pick it up for a month or two depending on what's being featured. Part of the reason I signed up last month was because they were including Hal Hartley's 90s crime oddity, Amateur, as part of their Huppert collection. Hartley's stuff has been somewhat out of circulation lately and I couldn't recall if I had actually seen Amateur when it was originally out on VHS or if the striking cover image of Huppert holding a drill was lodged in my memory. Either way, I'm glad to have watched or re-watched it. Idiosyncratic crime stories with deconstructed timelines and characters prone to spontaneous philosophical conversations were having their moment in the mid-90s. Hartley's film distinguishes itself from its contemporaries largely via Huppert's performance and a willingness to allow for reflective moments amidst the quirkiness and violence. The actors are fairly mannered but Huppert has some fantastic lines that rise above the deadpan delivery. There's also a nostalgia factor at work for me, not only with the actors and locations but perhaps most effectively via the soundtrack. Loaded with the likes of PJ Harvey, The Jesus Lizard,  and My Bloody Valentine, the sonic texture of Amateur definitely nails the decade. Hartley's films were notable releases back when I was tearing tickets at our local indie theater and I'd love to see some new physical media editions of his films.

The Daytrippers (1996) - Since the Fun City Editions release of Party Girl, I've been quietly watching and re-watching a chunk of Parker Posey's 1990s output. Of the new-to-me films where Posey has a lead or fairly prominent role, I think The Daytrippers has been my favorite. Independent film took on some different guises in America during this timeframe and while some of them were somewhat mid-tier budget films produced by a subsidiary of a larger company, Daytrippers is the real deal. Initially budgeted for around 50k, shot in 16 days, and heavily utilizing the apartments of the cast and crew as locations, Daytrippers is a film that only exists because a small cadre of filmmakers willed it into existence. The actors undoubtedly make the picture - Posey, Liev Schrieber, and Hope Davis give terrific early career performances anchored by a emotionally visceral turn from Anne Meara. Despite the limited means, Daytrippers looks more polished than you might guess. Greg Mottola along with cinematographer John Inwood and production designer Bonnie J. Brinkley (Slime City!) took real locations, shot them well, and made them look believable as opposed to the kind of sterile, soundstage vibe that low-budget films can have even when actual places are used. Admittedly the laughs aren't always huge and the ending feels like it could have benefitted from some more consideration, but there's a ton of heart behind Daytrippers and it's definitely something I'll return to. 

Sudden Manhattan (1996) - A much less heralded film also shot in NYC for no money at the same time as Daytrippers was Adrienne Shelly's directorial debut - Sudden Manhattan. Very much in the quirky yet dark, romantic comedy with elements of crime pantheon, but one that has been largely overlooked. Shelly is totally charming and I appreciated the screwball vibes even though I liked it best when it was more quietly strange. Louise Lasser delivers a riot of an appearance as the psychic Dominga - Ms. Lasser has a fascinating filmography having wrapped Frankenhooker  a few years before Suddenly and having Happiness and Requiem for a Dream come out in the years following. I'll be looking for Shelly's follow up film I'll Take You There and would love to see restored versions of both. 

An Unmarried Woman (1978) - Sticking with NYC for one more film, I finally caught up to Paul Mazursky's final entry to his phenomenal 1970s run of pictures. I adore Mazursky's movies from this period with both Harry and Tonto and Next Stop, Greenwich Village being longtime favorites so it really did take me a while to sit down for Unmarried Woman. Though this isn't an independent feature like the previous two films I mentioned, it is the product of a time when a studio would be willing to greenlight a modestly budgeted movie and sign near total control over to the director. So we have Mazursky firing on all cylinders here with a veteran crew composed of people he had worked with on previous films and a tremendous troupe of actors. Jill Clayburgh is perfectly cast in this and Mazursky is smart to keep his camera focused on her expressions and how she is reacting in scenes - it's her story after all. Great themes involving adult friendships and self-determination, Bill Conti contributes an excellent score, the funny parts land, the emotions feel lived-in, and I (naturally) love the setting. Something about seeing packed diners, parties, and city streets hits differently when my city is still definitely reeling in the hangover of lockdown. 

Bronco Bullfrog (1969) - A genuine obscurity restored and brought back from the brink of disappearing - Bronco Bullfrog is an astonishing document of working class youth culture in Britain at the end of the 60s. Director Barney Platt-Mills takes a documentarian approach and used non-actors to populate a very authentic feeling world of work, boredom, and rebellion. The actors exist somewhere between the working class interpretation of Mod and the nascent skinhead subculture of boots, braces, and youth gangs. Though they were frequent fodder for tabloid papers, there isn't a abundance of media capturing these kids closer to their own terms. That alone makes Bronco  compelling but it also works as an excellent counterpoint to the swinging 60s narrative that seems to be so dominant.

Gothic Fantastico: Four Italian Tales of Terror - I picked up this set of four Italian films released by Arrow last year and I thought it would be easiest to talk about the set as whole. I'm a fan of Italian Gothic but have generally stuck to the safe waters of Bava and/or Barbara Steele. I was interested in Arrow's set (particularly after their fantastic restoration of Mill of the Stone Women) but was moved to pick it up due to a combination of a good sale and Unsung Horror's episode covering The Third Eye. Franco Nero's first starring role - though Django would release earlier due to delays from censors - is probably enough to draw people to this set and The Third Eye makes for an interesting example of a modern gothic that dispenses with the cobwebbed corridors and crumbling castles normally associated with the genre. I think my favorites of the four are the much more traditionally gothic Lady Morgan's Vengeance and the other modern film in the set - The Witch. Lady Morgan is one half romantic mystery and one half supernatural chiller. There's an awkward flashback device employed part of the way through the film, but it still delivers on atmosphere and even treads into proto-gore territory. At one point Gordon Mitchell puts someone in an airplane spin and hurls them off a castle wall resulting in a splendid dummy drop. Maybe that works against the overall tone of the film, but it enshrines it as a classic in my book. Damiano Damiani's The Witch is set in contemporary (1966) Rome but manages to evoke a good deal of classic gothic spookery. It exchanges the ancient castle for a labyrinthine apartment building filled with secrets, death, crumbling manuscripts, strange family histories, and fractured reflections of reality. It's probably a little longer than it needs to be, but I was swept up all the same. The collection also includes The Blancheville Monster (1963) which is enjoyable if not as distinguished as some of the films that preceded it or would follow. My shelves are becoming more and more populated with Arrow sets and they do a terrific job - Gothic Fantastico is beautifully produced with one of Arrow's essay booklets and a poster. I've really enjoyed the film introductions and the video essays included but I haven't had a chance to check out the commentaries.