Monday, May 19, 2014
Hollywood toasted on the Croisette, roasted onscreen
While the stars of The Expendables 3 caused a Cannes commotion arriving in tanks at the Palais, David Cronenberg's latest skewed the excesses of Hollywood. FJI critic Jon Frosch reports for France 24.
Tommy Lee Jones plays nice in Cannes to promote 'The Homesman'
A pleasant Tommy Lee Jones? J. Sperling Reich reports on a surprising press conference at Cannes.
Any journalist covering Hollywood over the past 20 years is aware of, or has experienced first-hand, how difficult it can be to interview actor Tommy Lee Jones. It's not that he's reserved and introverted the way say, Harrison Ford, is during interviews. He's just downright ornery. The tales of his grumpy interactions with members of the press are so notorious that if there were a definition of "bad interview" in the dictionary, then Jones' picture would likely accompany it.
So, when Jones arrived at this year's Cannes with his second directorial effort to appear in competition at the festival, nobody knew what to expect, though you can be sure expectations were tempered. Not for the movie itself, as his previous film The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada premiered in 2005 at Cannes and was well-received. Rather, the 400 journalists gathered at the official press conference for The Homesman were fully expecting a contentious affair.
But when Jones arrived at the microphones surrounded by a cast that includes Hilary Swank and Miranda Otto and producers Luc Besson and Michael Fitzgerald, he was uncharacteristically pleasant. In fact, upon realizing some of the international press corps was struggling to ask questions in a foreign tongue, Jones interjected, "I would like to say something before we go any further. I would like to thank you all for asking these questions in English and for being patient enough to listen to us answer in English. We know we are in France and we appreciate your use of English in this conference."
That is not the type of humble behavior one would ever witness from the character Jones plays in his movie. In The Homesman, Jones portrays an unsympathetic claim jumper in the Old West named George Briggs alongside the movie's other main character, Marry Bee Cuddy played by Hilary Swank. Cuddy is an independent, brash homesteader whose unmarried status is one of her greatest concerns. She agrees to transport three insane women eastward across the plains of Nebraska toward a civilization that might be able to accommodate their mental illness and, after saving his life, forces Briggs to accompany her.
Based on Glendon Swarthout’s 1988 book of the same name, The Homesman focuses its attention on an aspect often overlooked in cinematic westerns: pioneer women. Anchored by noteworthy performances from Swank and Jones, it manages to convey the hardships of pioneer life, especially for women. The story keeps viewers engaged by never taking the obvious or expected narrative turn and is delivered through the fine camerawork of cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto.
Premiering to positive reviews from the critics here in Cannes, Jones realizes The Homesman is anything but a typical western. "The journey in this movie is the inverse of what you usually see in a movie that has wagons and horses in it and the subject matter is insane women instead of heroic men," he said when asked about the movies unusual approach and themes. "I won't try to hide the fact that a consideration of American imperialism on the west side of the Mississippi River is an underlying theme. But I'll let the movie speak for itself."
"It's a vision of America that we don't know, so for me it looks like a [Akira] Kurosawa film," added Besson. "It's very exotic. I didn't know the West was so hard and so difficult. We know about the American dream and we love it, but it's good to have the truth also, before the dream."
Besson, a renowned French director in his own right, also produced Jones’ first feature film Three Burials, and pointed out that his company's financing of both movies is a bit ironic. "The funny thing is the first movie was the relationship between U.S. and Mexico and this one is about how the United States starts and both times they call the French," he laughed.
Inasmuch as The Homesman is a non-traditional western, so too is Swank's Cuddy, at least for a woman, alone on a farm in the mid-1800s. Having entered her 30s without a husband, she reverses gender roles on more than one occasion by asking men to marry her. In propositioning these men, Cuddy pitches her finances, land and other attributes, explaining how despite her plain looks such an arrangement would be wise.
Swank has won two Academy Awards for inhabiting strong women onscreen before, ones whose character and morale were meant to outweigh any physical beauty. Swank, however, waves off any concern that she will be typecast for playing unattractive women. "I like real people. I like real women," she said. "It's obviously subjective what people find pretty or not. I've had a lot of people say Maggie Fitzgerald from Million Dollar Baby or Marie Bee Cuddy from this film are beautiful because they are natural and they are real. So it really is a subjective thing to say what is pretty and what is gorgeous."
As the conference wore on, Mr. Jones desire to promote his film began to give way to his impatience for the obligations required to do so. When asked if he was concerned whether there might be some controversy over a brief scene in which Native Americans appear to threaten The Homesman's main characters, Jones responded, "I don't have any concern about it whatsoever. Those people were all Native Americans. They were of Pueblan descent. They all claimed to be expert [horse] riders. Not one of them could ride one side of a horse, but they did look like Pawnees."
And when the subject of post-production was raised via a journalist's request for Jones to elaborate on his work with editor Roberto Silvi, you could see from his response that Jones may have surpassed his ability to play nice with the press. "It's not really hard work, I don't think," he replied. "It's time-consuming, but if you look at the footage of any day that we shot, the editing choices are obvious. If you think freely and openly about it, you can really see how to do it. It's not a big puzzle. I have a friend named Ron Shelton [Bull Durham, Tin Cup] who's a pretty good movie director and when I first started 20 years ago directing movies I asked what is the best point of view to take with an editor and he said 'over the shoulder.’”
Ah…now there's the Tommy Lee Jones we've all come to know, love and admire.
Any journalist covering Hollywood over the past 20 years is aware of, or has experienced first-hand, how difficult it can be to interview actor Tommy Lee Jones. It's not that he's reserved and introverted the way say, Harrison Ford, is during interviews. He's just downright ornery. The tales of his grumpy interactions with members of the press are so notorious that if there were a definition of "bad interview" in the dictionary, then Jones' picture would likely accompany it.
So, when Jones arrived at this year's Cannes with his second directorial effort to appear in competition at the festival, nobody knew what to expect, though you can be sure expectations were tempered. Not for the movie itself, as his previous film The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada premiered in 2005 at Cannes and was well-received. Rather, the 400 journalists gathered at the official press conference for The Homesman were fully expecting a contentious affair.
But when Jones arrived at the microphones surrounded by a cast that includes Hilary Swank and Miranda Otto and producers Luc Besson and Michael Fitzgerald, he was uncharacteristically pleasant. In fact, upon realizing some of the international press corps was struggling to ask questions in a foreign tongue, Jones interjected, "I would like to say something before we go any further. I would like to thank you all for asking these questions in English and for being patient enough to listen to us answer in English. We know we are in France and we appreciate your use of English in this conference."
Based on Glendon Swarthout’s 1988 book of the same name, The Homesman focuses its attention on an aspect often overlooked in cinematic westerns: pioneer women. Anchored by noteworthy performances from Swank and Jones, it manages to convey the hardships of pioneer life, especially for women. The story keeps viewers engaged by never taking the obvious or expected narrative turn and is delivered through the fine camerawork of cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto.
Premiering to positive reviews from the critics here in Cannes, Jones realizes The Homesman is anything but a typical western. "The journey in this movie is the inverse of what you usually see in a movie that has wagons and horses in it and the subject matter is insane women instead of heroic men," he said when asked about the movies unusual approach and themes. "I won't try to hide the fact that a consideration of American imperialism on the west side of the Mississippi River is an underlying theme. But I'll let the movie speak for itself."
"It's a vision of America that we don't know, so for me it looks like a [Akira] Kurosawa film," added Besson. "It's very exotic. I didn't know the West was so hard and so difficult. We know about the American dream and we love it, but it's good to have the truth also, before the dream."
Besson, a renowned French director in his own right, also produced Jones’ first feature film Three Burials, and pointed out that his company's financing of both movies is a bit ironic. "The funny thing is the first movie was the relationship between U.S. and Mexico and this one is about how the United States starts and both times they call the French," he laughed.
Inasmuch as The Homesman is a non-traditional western, so too is Swank's Cuddy, at least for a woman, alone on a farm in the mid-1800s. Having entered her 30s without a husband, she reverses gender roles on more than one occasion by asking men to marry her. In propositioning these men, Cuddy pitches her finances, land and other attributes, explaining how despite her plain looks such an arrangement would be wise.
Swank has won two Academy Awards for inhabiting strong women onscreen before, ones whose character and morale were meant to outweigh any physical beauty. Swank, however, waves off any concern that she will be typecast for playing unattractive women. "I like real people. I like real women," she said. "It's obviously subjective what people find pretty or not. I've had a lot of people say Maggie Fitzgerald from Million Dollar Baby or Marie Bee Cuddy from this film are beautiful because they are natural and they are real. So it really is a subjective thing to say what is pretty and what is gorgeous."
As the conference wore on, Mr. Jones desire to promote his film began to give way to his impatience for the obligations required to do so. When asked if he was concerned whether there might be some controversy over a brief scene in which Native Americans appear to threaten The Homesman's main characters, Jones responded, "I don't have any concern about it whatsoever. Those people were all Native Americans. They were of Pueblan descent. They all claimed to be expert [horse] riders. Not one of them could ride one side of a horse, but they did look like Pawnees."
And when the subject of post-production was raised via a journalist's request for Jones to elaborate on his work with editor Roberto Silvi, you could see from his response that Jones may have surpassed his ability to play nice with the press. "It's not really hard work, I don't think," he replied. "It's time-consuming, but if you look at the footage of any day that we shot, the editing choices are obvious. If you think freely and openly about it, you can really see how to do it. It's not a big puzzle. I have a friend named Ron Shelton [Bull Durham, Tin Cup] who's a pretty good movie director and when I first started 20 years ago directing movies I asked what is the best point of view to take with an editor and he said 'over the shoulder.’”
Ah…now there's the Tommy Lee Jones we've all come to know, love and admire.
‘Godzilla’ squashes B.O. competition
Monster-movie remake Godzilla enjoyed the second-best opening of 2014 this past weekend. The flick, starring Bryan Cranston and Elizabeth Olsen, opened to a boffo $93 million. That’s just a few million dollars short of Captain America: The Winter Soldier’s $95 million debut (and just ahead of The Amazing Spider Man 2’s more recent $91.6 million bow). A large portion of the audience opted to view the rampaging lizard in 3D, which accounted for 51 percent of the film’s total earnings, $14.1 million of which came from IMAX specifically. It was a predominantly male (58 percent) and older (60 percent over the age of 25) crowd that awarded Godzilla an OK CinemaScore grade of a B+. In other words, viewers liked but didn’t love the creature feature, which faces stiff competition this weekend when the blockbuster X Men: Days of Futures Past opens to, most likely, a box-office monopoly.
In second place, comedy Neighbors raked in $26 million, a downturn of 47 percent. After two weeks in theatres, the film’s total earnings stand at $91.5 million. Neighbors should end its theatrical run with $150 million or so.
The mixed-reviewed The Amazing Spider-Man 2 clocked in at No. 3 with a $16.8 million haul. The film suffered a dropoff of 63 percent this weekend, though its total to date is a nonetheless solid $172 million. Once again, with X Men: Days of Future Past looming on, to the extent of practically overtaking, the horizon, Spidey is in for an even poorer showing this coming weekend.
Though a majority of critics seemed to enjoy Million Dollar Arm (60 percent fresh on Rotten Tomatoes), audiences showed little enthusiasm for the based-on-a-true-story baseball feature. Arm disappointed with a fourth-place, $10.5 million opening, which translates to roughly half of Moneyball’s debut ($19.5 million), even if it is a bit higher than Draft Day’s $9.8 million bow. Pundits predict total returns should end up tallying out to $30 million.
Finally, femme comedy The Other Woman rounded out the weekend’s top five. The Cameron Diaz film added an additional $6.3 million to a total that now stands at over $70 million and counting.
In second place, comedy Neighbors raked in $26 million, a downturn of 47 percent. After two weeks in theatres, the film’s total earnings stand at $91.5 million. Neighbors should end its theatrical run with $150 million or so.
The mixed-reviewed The Amazing Spider-Man 2 clocked in at No. 3 with a $16.8 million haul. The film suffered a dropoff of 63 percent this weekend, though its total to date is a nonetheless solid $172 million. Once again, with X Men: Days of Future Past looming on, to the extent of practically overtaking, the horizon, Spidey is in for an even poorer showing this coming weekend.
Though a majority of critics seemed to enjoy Million Dollar Arm (60 percent fresh on Rotten Tomatoes), audiences showed little enthusiasm for the based-on-a-true-story baseball feature. Arm disappointed with a fourth-place, $10.5 million opening, which translates to roughly half of Moneyball’s debut ($19.5 million), even if it is a bit higher than Draft Day’s $9.8 million bow. Pundits predict total returns should end up tallying out to $30 million.
Finally, femme comedy The Other Woman rounded out the weekend’s top five. The Cameron Diaz film added an additional $6.3 million to a total that now stands at over $70 million and counting.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
After 'Winter Sleep,' perking up with 'Wild Tales'
FJI correspondent J. Sperling Reich's Friday in Cannes was highlighted by a long but rewarding drama from festival regular Nuri Bilge Ceylan and an outrageous comedy from Argentina.
If selecting entries for an international film festival weren't challenging enough, knowing how to schedule their premieres throughout the event is akin to an art form. This year the programmers at the Cannes Film Festival, headed by artistic director Thierry Fremeaux, proved just how skilled they are at both.
Always the first to be criticized when a title doesn't live up to heightened expectations, Fremeaux and his programmers are rarely credited with their ability to juxtapose films against each other during the festival's hectic schedule. It's a task akin to how a museum curator might hang a painting by Georges Braque next to one from Pablo Picasso in an art exhibition on the development of cubism. On Friday, Fremeaux's team pulled off a master stroke by screening Winter Sleep by Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan against Wild Tales a film from Argentina made by Damián Szifrón.
Regular Cannes attendees know Ceylan and his work. His films have appeared here for more than a decade, including Climates in 2006, Three Monkeys in 2008 (for which he won the Best Director prize) and Once Upon A Time In Anatolia, which won the Grand Prix in 2011. Thus, audiences were well aware what they had signed up for when the lights dimmed in the Grand Théâtre Lumière for its premiere.
Ceylan's movies are long, beautifully shot, slow pieces, often with only the subtle hint of a narrative throughline. It is not uncommon for festival audiences to flee midway through his films. Winter Sleep is no different, and in fact manages to perfectly underscore all of these characteristics.
Clocking in at three hours and 16 minutes, the movie takes its time to unwind what might be construed as a plot, though not in the traditional sense of the word. Set amidst the steppes of Cappadocia in the Anatolia region of Turkey, the film revolves around Aydin (Haluk Bilginer), a retired actor who now runs a small hotel with Necla (Demet Akbag), his sister, and Nihal (Melisa Sözen), his much younger wife with whom he has a fractious relationship. As the film progresses, the characters grow ever more isolated in their remote hotel and their interactions begin to simmer with tension.
It is easy to see why film critics in Cannes have compared Winter Sleep to the work of Chekhov. The film features long stretches of rapid dialogue and anyone who doesn't speak Turkish needs to have Olympic training in subtitle reading to keep up with the conversation. One scene between the patriarchal Aydin and his sister Necla goes on for what must be 20 minutes and devolves into a bitter, abusive argument, as the camera cuts between two head shots for what seems like an eternity.
What we don't see a lot of in Winter Sleep is Cappadocia itself, considered to be one of most beautiful places on Earth. Though Ceylan spends the first few minutes presenting panoramic shots of breathtaking scenery, much of the film occurs indoors. This was exactly the filmmaker’s intent. "I actually didn't want to use it, but I had to," he said of the region’s picturesque qualities. "I originally wanted a very simple, plain place, but the film had to be set in a tourist area, and I needed a hotel that is a little isolated, outside of town. Cappadocia was the only place I could find that in the winter time still had tourists."
In talking about a location that provides a backdrop most filmmakers would be jealous of, Ceylan's sensibility, and possibly his personality, slip through. "I was afraid of shooting in Cappadocia because it might have been too beautiful, too interesting," he said. "But I didn't show it too much, I hope."
While Winter Sleep can be a bit of a slog, maintaining the interest of only the most diehard cineastes, like most of Ceylan's films, seeing it through to the end is strangely rewarding. You're not sure entirely what you've witnessed but know it perfectly captured the difficulty of fragile human relationships and the struggle between class differences, all delivered in a unique signature manner.
Less than an hour after audiences completed Ceylan's marathon of seriousness, the festival invited members of the press to see the first screening of Szifròn's Wild Tales. It could not have been more perfect programming.
Tired and a bit exhausted after "the Ceylan," few knew anything about "the Szifròn.” Only that the film was from Argentina and that renowned Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar is one of its producers. What we got was two hours of sheer enjoyment and laughter.
Szifròn has cooked up a dark comedy comprised of a series of standalone short stories or vignettes, featuring characters that suffer through some extraordinary occurrences. To say anything more about this Wild Tales would be to spoil it. But, for example, one story features an explosives demolition engineer who grows ever more frustrated with having his car improperly towed from legal parking spaces. Unlike many of the sketches found within, this one actually ends on what could be considered a positive note.
All of the stories Szifròn includes in Wild Tales are just that, wild tales that spiral out of control in all directions—from the improbable to the violent, from the tragic to vengeful. The very first segment comes before the film's title sequence. It takes place aboard a plane and when the titles raced onto the screen at its conclusion, the audience of 1,200 odd journalists erupted in applause. Needless to say, at a festival known for booing selections when the credits roll, cheering one on after the first five minutes is a rarity.
By the time the lights rose on Wild Tales, our sides hurt from continuous laughter. As the audience filed out of the screening, you could hear giggling every so often from journalists excitedly discussing what they had just seen.
Cannes is not known for including comedies in its official selection, let alone placing them in competition as Wild Tales is. A French journalist standing outside the Salle Debussy, where the film screened, put it best: Wild Tales was a little gift from Fremeaux after the depressive, yet rewarding, strain of Winter Sleep.
That Cannes was able to pull of this kind of high-wire curatorial feet is what makes festival programming an art, not simply a chore of logistical scheduling.
If selecting entries for an international film festival weren't challenging enough, knowing how to schedule their premieres throughout the event is akin to an art form. This year the programmers at the Cannes Film Festival, headed by artistic director Thierry Fremeaux, proved just how skilled they are at both.
Always the first to be criticized when a title doesn't live up to heightened expectations, Fremeaux and his programmers are rarely credited with their ability to juxtapose films against each other during the festival's hectic schedule. It's a task akin to how a museum curator might hang a painting by Georges Braque next to one from Pablo Picasso in an art exhibition on the development of cubism. On Friday, Fremeaux's team pulled off a master stroke by screening Winter Sleep by Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan against Wild Tales a film from Argentina made by Damián Szifrón.
Regular Cannes attendees know Ceylan and his work. His films have appeared here for more than a decade, including Climates in 2006, Three Monkeys in 2008 (for which he won the Best Director prize) and Once Upon A Time In Anatolia, which won the Grand Prix in 2011. Thus, audiences were well aware what they had signed up for when the lights dimmed in the Grand Théâtre Lumière for its premiere.
Ceylan's movies are long, beautifully shot, slow pieces, often with only the subtle hint of a narrative throughline. It is not uncommon for festival audiences to flee midway through his films. Winter Sleep is no different, and in fact manages to perfectly underscore all of these characteristics.
It is easy to see why film critics in Cannes have compared Winter Sleep to the work of Chekhov. The film features long stretches of rapid dialogue and anyone who doesn't speak Turkish needs to have Olympic training in subtitle reading to keep up with the conversation. One scene between the patriarchal Aydin and his sister Necla goes on for what must be 20 minutes and devolves into a bitter, abusive argument, as the camera cuts between two head shots for what seems like an eternity.
What we don't see a lot of in Winter Sleep is Cappadocia itself, considered to be one of most beautiful places on Earth. Though Ceylan spends the first few minutes presenting panoramic shots of breathtaking scenery, much of the film occurs indoors. This was exactly the filmmaker’s intent. "I actually didn't want to use it, but I had to," he said of the region’s picturesque qualities. "I originally wanted a very simple, plain place, but the film had to be set in a tourist area, and I needed a hotel that is a little isolated, outside of town. Cappadocia was the only place I could find that in the winter time still had tourists."
In talking about a location that provides a backdrop most filmmakers would be jealous of, Ceylan's sensibility, and possibly his personality, slip through. "I was afraid of shooting in Cappadocia because it might have been too beautiful, too interesting," he said. "But I didn't show it too much, I hope."
While Winter Sleep can be a bit of a slog, maintaining the interest of only the most diehard cineastes, like most of Ceylan's films, seeing it through to the end is strangely rewarding. You're not sure entirely what you've witnessed but know it perfectly captured the difficulty of fragile human relationships and the struggle between class differences, all delivered in a unique signature manner.
Less than an hour after audiences completed Ceylan's marathon of seriousness, the festival invited members of the press to see the first screening of Szifròn's Wild Tales. It could not have been more perfect programming.
Tired and a bit exhausted after "the Ceylan," few knew anything about "the Szifròn.” Only that the film was from Argentina and that renowned Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar is one of its producers. What we got was two hours of sheer enjoyment and laughter.
Szifròn has cooked up a dark comedy comprised of a series of standalone short stories or vignettes, featuring characters that suffer through some extraordinary occurrences. To say anything more about this Wild Tales would be to spoil it. But, for example, one story features an explosives demolition engineer who grows ever more frustrated with having his car improperly towed from legal parking spaces. Unlike many of the sketches found within, this one actually ends on what could be considered a positive note.
All of the stories Szifròn includes in Wild Tales are just that, wild tales that spiral out of control in all directions—from the improbable to the violent, from the tragic to vengeful. The very first segment comes before the film's title sequence. It takes place aboard a plane and when the titles raced onto the screen at its conclusion, the audience of 1,200 odd journalists erupted in applause. Needless to say, at a festival known for booing selections when the credits roll, cheering one on after the first five minutes is a rarity.
By the time the lights rose on Wild Tales, our sides hurt from continuous laughter. As the audience filed out of the screening, you could hear giggling every so often from journalists excitedly discussing what they had just seen.
Cannes is not known for including comedies in its official selection, let alone placing them in competition as Wild Tales is. A French journalist standing outside the Salle Debussy, where the film screened, put it best: Wild Tales was a little gift from Fremeaux after the depressive, yet rewarding, strain of Winter Sleep.
That Cannes was able to pull of this kind of high-wire curatorial feet is what makes festival programming an art, not simply a chore of logistical scheduling.
Cannes takes a trip to Sissako's 'Timbuktu'
J. Sperling Reich reports from Cannes on a timely and powerful film set in Mali.
Whether it's Man of Iron, Andrzej Wajda's 1981 Palme d'Or-winning movie set during Poland's Solidarity labor movement led by Lech Wałęsa, or last year's Touch of Sin, a commentary on the social ills of modern-day China from director Zhangke Jia, the Cannes Film Festival has never shied away from films that subtly or directly address political discourse in the world. In fact, Cannes programmers seem to have a preference for entries with political overtones.
Michael Moore's documentary Fahrenheit 9/11, which took home the Palme d'Or in 2004, is a perfect example. So are Paolo Sorrentino's 2008 entry Il Divo, Samira Makhmalbaf's 2003 At Five in the Afternoon which takes place in Afghanistan, or just about any of Jean-Luc Godard's movies that have been shown in Cannes.
This year, however, Cannes programmers, led by artistic director Thierry Fremaux, were particularly timely in selecting Timbuktu as the first film to screen in competition. Specifically, the world currently watches on in horror as the fundamentalist Islamic militant organization Boko Haram holds more than 200 schoolgirls captive in Nigeria. Meanwhile, Timbuktu interweaves the stories of several characters whose lives have become endangered after religious fundamentalists take over the city, imposing strict Sharia law.
While Timbuktu may be a fictional tale, it unfortunately depicts the ongoing fragile reality of Mali, a West African country with a long history of bloody clashes between its citizens. In April of 2012, an Islamist rebel group named Ansar Dine took over Timbuktu and instituted Sharia law. All music, dancing and sports were banned. Women were forced to wear veils, adulterers were stoned to death, and thieves had body parts chopped off. This went on until January of 2013, when French and Malian military forces seized back control of the city.
Having grown up in Mali, filmmaker Abderrahmane Sissako knows the country's difficulties quite well. He has previously made films that take place in his homeland (the 52-year-old director now lives in France). This time Sissako was motivated after footage of an unwed couple being stoned to death in Aguelhok, Mali, made its way onto the Internet. Because the couple had children out of wedlock, they were buried in the sand up to their necks and in front of 200 onlookers were hit with stones until they died. A similar scene is included in Timbuktu.
What upset Sissako as much as the fact this event could actually take place in Mali was that the incident generated little international press coverage or outrage. "It was more the fact that nobody talked about it," the filmmaker explained while answering questions about his film shortly after its premiere in Cannes. "The world is such today that when a new mobile phone comes onto the market, the whole of the press talks about it, yet we remain totally and increasingly indifferent in the face of horror. This event therefore was the triggering fact behind the film. I started out to make a documentary, then I gave up on this idea and made the film you saw."
The cast of Timbuktu is comprised mostly of amateurs. One character who plays a pivotal role in the film's storyline is a fisherman named Amadou, who is played by a real fisherman named Amadou who fled Mali due to its ongoing violence. Sissako could not maintain such authenticity when it came to choosing production locations as he, understandably, had to look outside of Mali.
"The idea was to shoot in Timbuktu, and on the 28th of September there was a suicide attack in front of some barracks in Timbuktu," Sissako explained. "So there was a real risk. It would have been far too dangerous to take a crew to Timbuktu. All this happened in October 2013 and we had to quickly find an appropriate location. It was possible to shoot in Mauritania thanks to the government and that's something that people don't often say. When the government enables someone to make a film, gives them the possibility to shoot a film providing for proper safety, it can provide quite a lot of work. There were many difficulties because the various places where we did the shooting are quite far apart and there are only small tracks to get there. It might take half a day to get from A to B."
Thus, Sissako took his cast and crew to Walatah in Mauritania, which fills in for the real Timbuktu. It's a small, ruinous village of crumbling brick structures set amidst an endless expanse of rolling sand dunes. This gave cinematographer Sofian El Fani a sweeping canvas to work with and he did not let it go to waste. It's worth noting El Fani also shot Blue Is the Warmest Color which won the Palme d'Or at Cannes last year.
There is no shortage of stunning imagery throughout Timbuktu that captures the natural beauty and harsh landscapes of Mauritania and Mali. One important scene takes place at a distance, in a single panoramic shot along a wide river. Another lyrically haunting moment occurs when children from the village play a soccer game without a ball, miming all the action, including goals, for fear of being caught.
It is against this backdrop that the story unfolds, centering mostly on a herdsman named Kidane (Ibrahim Ahmed) and his family, Satima (Toulou Kiki) and 12-year-old daughter Issan. When Kidane's favorite cow is killed, he takes matters into his own hands and you can only imagine what this must lead to. Over the course of Timbuktu we are presented with various narrative bits from different characters perspectives.
More often than not, these perspectives are viewed through the slits of flowing turbans and face coverings that provide protection front the ever-present sand and grit. This allows only a character’s eyes to be seen, yet Sissako still manages to convey a complicated depth for each of his characters, even those whose actions are less than admirable.
At the same time, the director also overcame the constant translation that had to occur between characters and used it to his advantage. A persistent obstacle to peace in Mali is a population that speaks three languages: Arabic, Touareg and French. Sissako could convey a character's emotions and motives based on how they went about translating or responding to translations.
"Human beings aren't comprised of one dimension. It's not all or nothing," said Sissako about how he tried to show empathy for each of the characters in his film. "Everybody is complex. You have both good and evil. I think it's important to realize that a jihadist is a human being who at a certain point in his life has opted for a certain choice. What you need to do is to make these people at least appear human. They are fragile. At the same time, a person who treats people badly may be wracked by doubt."
It is at this point in discussing his film with a room filled with hundreds of journalists that Sissako pauses uncomfortably, removes his eyeglasses and covers his face to hide the tears that have begun flowing down his cheeks. And like many scenes in Timbuktu, what would normally be an awkward and uncomfortable moment turns into one in which the strength of the human spirit shines through as all the journalists present break out in spontaneous applause.
"Maybe I'm crying in the place of all these people who have experienced these sorts of things," Sissako continued as he regained his composure. "Those who have truly suffered because we tend to identify with these people. I, the actors, all those who were courageous enough to make the film are one thing, but the real courage is to be found among those who have lived this way on a daily basis, not just for one day or two days but for a long time. And they waged a silent combat which is the real combat waged by humankind. And that's where the optimism lies in the film. Timbuktu was indeed freed, but the true liberation was for those people who lived there everyday. Those who play soccer without a ball because it was forbidden, it was banned. That's the real combat. That's the true fight. But as usual everything boils down to a group of people who try to rule the world. That's the way the world is."
At the end of this year's Cannes Film Festival, there will be another group of people who have no intention of trying to rule the world, but instead award this year's selected films for artistic merit. Despite uneven execution with sometimes awkward pacing, its subject matter and powerful story just may cause the festival jury to recognize Timbuktu.
Whether it's Man of Iron, Andrzej Wajda's 1981 Palme d'Or-winning movie set during Poland's Solidarity labor movement led by Lech Wałęsa, or last year's Touch of Sin, a commentary on the social ills of modern-day China from director Zhangke Jia, the Cannes Film Festival has never shied away from films that subtly or directly address political discourse in the world. In fact, Cannes programmers seem to have a preference for entries with political overtones.
Michael Moore's documentary Fahrenheit 9/11, which took home the Palme d'Or in 2004, is a perfect example. So are Paolo Sorrentino's 2008 entry Il Divo, Samira Makhmalbaf's 2003 At Five in the Afternoon which takes place in Afghanistan, or just about any of Jean-Luc Godard's movies that have been shown in Cannes.
This year, however, Cannes programmers, led by artistic director Thierry Fremaux, were particularly timely in selecting Timbuktu as the first film to screen in competition. Specifically, the world currently watches on in horror as the fundamentalist Islamic militant organization Boko Haram holds more than 200 schoolgirls captive in Nigeria. Meanwhile, Timbuktu interweaves the stories of several characters whose lives have become endangered after religious fundamentalists take over the city, imposing strict Sharia law.
Having grown up in Mali, filmmaker Abderrahmane Sissako knows the country's difficulties quite well. He has previously made films that take place in his homeland (the 52-year-old director now lives in France). This time Sissako was motivated after footage of an unwed couple being stoned to death in Aguelhok, Mali, made its way onto the Internet. Because the couple had children out of wedlock, they were buried in the sand up to their necks and in front of 200 onlookers were hit with stones until they died. A similar scene is included in Timbuktu.
What upset Sissako as much as the fact this event could actually take place in Mali was that the incident generated little international press coverage or outrage. "It was more the fact that nobody talked about it," the filmmaker explained while answering questions about his film shortly after its premiere in Cannes. "The world is such today that when a new mobile phone comes onto the market, the whole of the press talks about it, yet we remain totally and increasingly indifferent in the face of horror. This event therefore was the triggering fact behind the film. I started out to make a documentary, then I gave up on this idea and made the film you saw."
The cast of Timbuktu is comprised mostly of amateurs. One character who plays a pivotal role in the film's storyline is a fisherman named Amadou, who is played by a real fisherman named Amadou who fled Mali due to its ongoing violence. Sissako could not maintain such authenticity when it came to choosing production locations as he, understandably, had to look outside of Mali.
"The idea was to shoot in Timbuktu, and on the 28th of September there was a suicide attack in front of some barracks in Timbuktu," Sissako explained. "So there was a real risk. It would have been far too dangerous to take a crew to Timbuktu. All this happened in October 2013 and we had to quickly find an appropriate location. It was possible to shoot in Mauritania thanks to the government and that's something that people don't often say. When the government enables someone to make a film, gives them the possibility to shoot a film providing for proper safety, it can provide quite a lot of work. There were many difficulties because the various places where we did the shooting are quite far apart and there are only small tracks to get there. It might take half a day to get from A to B."
Thus, Sissako took his cast and crew to Walatah in Mauritania, which fills in for the real Timbuktu. It's a small, ruinous village of crumbling brick structures set amidst an endless expanse of rolling sand dunes. This gave cinematographer Sofian El Fani a sweeping canvas to work with and he did not let it go to waste. It's worth noting El Fani also shot Blue Is the Warmest Color which won the Palme d'Or at Cannes last year.
There is no shortage of stunning imagery throughout Timbuktu that captures the natural beauty and harsh landscapes of Mauritania and Mali. One important scene takes place at a distance, in a single panoramic shot along a wide river. Another lyrically haunting moment occurs when children from the village play a soccer game without a ball, miming all the action, including goals, for fear of being caught.
It is against this backdrop that the story unfolds, centering mostly on a herdsman named Kidane (Ibrahim Ahmed) and his family, Satima (Toulou Kiki) and 12-year-old daughter Issan. When Kidane's favorite cow is killed, he takes matters into his own hands and you can only imagine what this must lead to. Over the course of Timbuktu we are presented with various narrative bits from different characters perspectives.
More often than not, these perspectives are viewed through the slits of flowing turbans and face coverings that provide protection front the ever-present sand and grit. This allows only a character’s eyes to be seen, yet Sissako still manages to convey a complicated depth for each of his characters, even those whose actions are less than admirable.
At the same time, the director also overcame the constant translation that had to occur between characters and used it to his advantage. A persistent obstacle to peace in Mali is a population that speaks three languages: Arabic, Touareg and French. Sissako could convey a character's emotions and motives based on how they went about translating or responding to translations.
"Human beings aren't comprised of one dimension. It's not all or nothing," said Sissako about how he tried to show empathy for each of the characters in his film. "Everybody is complex. You have both good and evil. I think it's important to realize that a jihadist is a human being who at a certain point in his life has opted for a certain choice. What you need to do is to make these people at least appear human. They are fragile. At the same time, a person who treats people badly may be wracked by doubt."
It is at this point in discussing his film with a room filled with hundreds of journalists that Sissako pauses uncomfortably, removes his eyeglasses and covers his face to hide the tears that have begun flowing down his cheeks. And like many scenes in Timbuktu, what would normally be an awkward and uncomfortable moment turns into one in which the strength of the human spirit shines through as all the journalists present break out in spontaneous applause.
"Maybe I'm crying in the place of all these people who have experienced these sorts of things," Sissako continued as he regained his composure. "Those who have truly suffered because we tend to identify with these people. I, the actors, all those who were courageous enough to make the film are one thing, but the real courage is to be found among those who have lived this way on a daily basis, not just for one day or two days but for a long time. And they waged a silent combat which is the real combat waged by humankind. And that's where the optimism lies in the film. Timbuktu was indeed freed, but the true liberation was for those people who lived there everyday. Those who play soccer without a ball because it was forbidden, it was banned. That's the real combat. That's the true fight. But as usual everything boils down to a group of people who try to rule the world. That's the way the world is."
At the end of this year's Cannes Film Festival, there will be another group of people who have no intention of trying to rule the world, but instead award this year's selected films for artistic merit. Despite uneven execution with sometimes awkward pacing, its subject matter and powerful story just may cause the festival jury to recognize Timbuktu.
Friday, May 16, 2014
'The Captive' is Cannes' latest punching bag
FJI critic Jon Frosch, reporting from Cannes for France 24, has reservations about Atom Egoyan's kidnapping tale The Captive, but feels it got an unfair critical drubbing. See his latest post here.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Jihad, art and incest at Cannes 2014
Reporting for France 24, FJI critic Jon Frosch calls Abderrahmane Sissako's Timbuktu a “visually stunning” highlight of the fest. See his day two article here.
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