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Whew! The curtains have closed on the Film Festival of Locarno's 76th run. For someone like me juggling screenings while also soaking up the festival's nocturnal vibes was no small feat. I'll admit, my nights shimmered just as much as my days, stealing away hours of precious sleep. Now, as I pen down my thoughts, a sense of exhaustion weighs on me. Perhaps the aftermath of too many stories, too many emotions, and, admittedly, one too many late nights. But that’s the spirit of Locarno, isn’t it?
This festival is an intricate tapestry of cinema. It’s where one glimpses the heartbeat of contemporary filmmaking, discerning which narratives hold the gaze of modern producers and which tales are burning in the hearts of artists. Amidst this plethora, one can unearth cinematic gems, those lesser-known tales that shimmer with unique brilliance. The stories told here are not just about moving pictures; they're about the souls that find expression through the lens.
But wait, let me not spill all my beans just yet. A more expansive reflection on the festival awaits in a future post. For now, brace yourself. We're about to dive headlong into the screenings that truly caught my eye and gripped my soul. Ready?
RIVIÈRE by Hugues Hariche (2023, Switzerland, France)
Hugues Hariche's RIVIÈRE weaves a narrative that effortlessly transcends from the snowy French mountains into the complex terrains of human relationships and self-realization. As Manon, a seventeen-year-old, skates passionately on her journey to discover her missing father, she simultaneously embarks on a path less traversed in cinema: that of an aspiring professional hockey player. And while the director’s note emphasizes the arduous journey of today's youth in carving out their niche, for me, RIVIÈRE delved even deeper.
At its core, RIVIÈRE is commendable for circumventing the trap of clichéd storytelling. In an environment that could have easily exploited the overwrought trope of an underdog female athlete in a male-dominated sport, the narrative chose authenticity. Yes, Manon faces challenges, but they are refreshingly different. There's no exaggerated rivalry, no dramatic ascension to the top amidst adversity. Manon is effortlessly the best in her domain, her struggles lie within, rendering a nuanced depth to her character.
This film's strength lies in its authentic portrayal of internal conflicts, challenging both the characters and the audience. The production, while not groundbreaking, is impeccably executed. Standard cinematic techniques are employed – not to dazzle, but to stay true to the narrative. The story doesn’t lose its heart amidst fancy shots; it's honest, real, and straightforward. A particular nod to the portrayal of the coach, a beacon of mentorship Manon so desperately seeks, filling the void left by her absent father.
Subplots intertwine seamlessly, from Manon's tender exploration of love with a girl ensnared in addiction to the sheer monotony faced by village youth, and the introduction of her father’s current wife and baby brother. Hariche crafts a tale where each subplot complements the other, each thread intertwining to form a rich tapestry that captivates the viewer.
Now, I won't deny a personal affinity for certain elements of the film - the allure of ice hockey, the charm of a tomboy protagonist, the serenity of a mountainous backdrop. But biases aside, RIVIÈRE is a compelling tale of growth, resilience, and self-discovery.
The Verdict:
RIVIÈRE isn't just about icy rinks and cold mountain air; it's a warm embrace of authenticity. It beckons viewers to explore the profound depths of internal battles and the beauty of unadulterated storytelling. Hariche has crafted not just a movie but a soulful exploration of human connection and aspiration. A definite watch for those seeking more than just surface-level drama.
CONNAN by Bertrand Mandico (2023, Luxembourg, France, Belgium)
Diving headfirst into the chaotic, phantasmagoric realm of CONNAN, Bertrand Mandico presents a vivid panorama of the recurring life and demise of Conann. Set against a backdrop of swirling myths and eras, Conann's tortured existence unfurls like an ever-evolving tapestry, from her enslaved childhood to her ascent to the apogee of malevolence. Mandico, a Gobelins Paris alum, is known for blending genres and creating dreamlike spectacles, and CONNAN is no deviation.
To call CONNAN a spectacle would be an understatement. It's an explosion of the senses. The movie revels in its excesses - from the ostentatious set designs and costumes to the riot of colors and the unabashed gore. The characters leap out of the screen, demanding attention with exaggerated performances and narratives that defy realism.
For someone like me, who generally gravitates away from overtly artistic films that border on self-indulgence, CONNAN was a surprising deviation. My cinematic tastes resonate more with the accessible surrealism of David Lynch or the esoteric allure of Kenneth Anger's works. Yet, there were moments in CONNAN that struck a familiar chord. A quirky leather jacket immediately transported me to the realms of Lucifer Rising.
Despite my predispositions, CONNAN ensnared my attention and kept it. However, it's essential to understand that this film won't sit well with everyone. Its very essence lies in its audacity, its brazen challenge to the norm. It's a dive into the murky depths of our psyche, a confrontation with the darker facets of existence. A necessary confrontation, in my opinion, as it allows one to truly appreciate the spectrum of cinematic experiences.
The film doesn't merely rest on its visceral aesthetic; its pacing is impeccably crafted. Amidst the bedlam, there's a rhythm that propels the narrative forward, ensuring that the viewer is continuously engaged, constantly striving to decipher the unfolding enigma. The film's occasional break of the fourth wall adds another layer to its intrigue.
The Verdict:
CONNAN is a trip, a dizzying roller coaster through a nightmarish dreamscape. While its graphic nature and overwhelming aesthetics might deter the faint-hearted, for those willing to embrace its chaotic embrace, it's an experience like no other. Bertrand Mandico showcases the necessity of films that push boundaries and challenge conventional norms. A dive into the dark, a celebration of the grotesque, and above all, a testament to the diverse palette of cinema.
MILSU by RYOO Seung-wan (2023, South Korea)
Stepping into the dim, reel-infused atmosphere of the cinema, I was met with the bustling narrative of 1970s Kunchon in MILSU. Two intrepid women divers, Choon-ja and Jin-sook, found their livelihoods threatened by the mechanical encroach of modernity, leading them down a path of sea-smuggling. But as their illegal endeavors swell, the tidal waves of change threaten to wash away the harmony of their village.
RYOO Seung-wan’s directorial note was clear in its ambitions: blend 1970s charm with seaside romance, humor, suspense, and throw in some criminal machinations for good measure. From my seat, it was evident he achieved what he set out to do.
Given my own infatuation with the likes of Parasite and Train To Busan, it was essential to not let past favorites cast shadows over this new experience. But, as the narrative played out, I couldn’t shake off the distinct reminiscence of the Rick & Morty episode One Crew over the Crewcoo's Morty. The labyrinthine plot twists, the seemingly endless double-crossings, and the almost comedic attempts at misdirection permeated MILSU.
Yet, the film’s strength lay in its flavorful cocktail of genres. Its lighthearted comedic notes combined seamlessly with potent dashes of drama. The character portrayals, intriguingly quirky, were enhanced by intense combat scenes and the sight of crimson rivulets splashing across the screen.
Despite its strengths, the film wasn't without its shortcomings. The initial parts felt bogged down by a barrage of information-laden scenes that seemed more filler than essence. And while the narrative climaxed with heightened stakes, the ease with which the protagonists surmounted obstacles felt somewhat anticlimactic. Their triumphs, though entertaining, lacked the tense undertone of genuine struggle and adversity.
The Verdict:
MILSU is an entertaining cinematic concoction. While it might not be the intellectual heavyweight or emotional juggernaut some might seek, it promises – and delivers – a few hours of delightful escapism. Light on the senses, yet brimming with drama, comedy, and action, it’s the kind of film you’d want to watch on a weekend, popcorn in hand. RYOO Seung-wan serves up a delightful buffet of 1970s nostalgia, love, and mischief by the sea, showing the tumultuous waves both within and outside the heart.
Mantagheye bohrani by Ali Ahmadzadeh (2023, Iran, Germany)
Delving into the nocturnal depths of Tehran in Mantagheye bohrani, we journey alongside Amir, who, guided by the monotony of a GPS, acts as our eyes and ears to a side of Tehran often shrouded in secrecy. The movie offers a raw, uncensored glance at the unseen alleys of this historic city, teeming with life, despair, hope, and countless tales.
Director Ali Ahmadzadeh's note resonates deeply with me. His choice to use real individuals instead of actors is both a statement and a testament. This rebellion is not merely against cinematic norms but against societal constraints and preconceived perceptions. The film unabashedly showcases a side of Tehran that sharply contrasts with the images depicted by global media - a city bustling with characters that break the mold of the theological narrative we've become accustomed to hearing.
This film doesn’t pander to its audience with grandiose cinematic techniques; it remains raw and honest. Some might say it lacks polish, but that very roughness is what enhances its allure. The guerrilla-style cinematography mirrors the essence of the narrative. With every frame, there's a palpable tension that begs the question: what's lurking around the corner?
The storyline’s propulsion doesn't rely on twists or scripted climaxes; instead, it thrives on raw, undiluted curiosity. The non-actors lend an authenticity that can't be feigned. Their genuineness forms the heart and soul of this production, making it an immersive experience for the viewer. I felt like a silent companion, riding shotgun with Amir, traversing a myriad of emotions.
Poor Amir becomes the anchor amidst the chaos, dealing with personal turmoil, the perils of the drug trade, the desperation of the needy, and the lurking threat of thieves. With many scenes putting him under a relentless spotlight, viewers get to peel back layers of his personality, forging a bond one frame at a time.
Walking out of the theater, the buzz was palpable. Audience members, like bees to a hive, congregated, dissecting their interpretations, feelings, and the profound impact the movie left behind.
The Verdict:
Mantagheye bohrani is a journey of raw introspection and reflection. It doesn't aim to simply tell a story but to challenge perspectives, confront biases, and shatter stereotypes. It’s not just a film; it’s an experience. An ode to Tehran's night owls, it's a visceral ride that invites viewers not just to watch, but to feel, to empathize, and most importantly, to think. The streets of Tehran, under the veil of night, whisper tales of resilience, rebellion, and humanity, and this movie ensures those whispers are heard loud and clear.
Pardi di Domani: A Glimpse into Short Films
I typically reserve time for a few sessions of the Pardi di Domani short films during the Film Festival of Locarno. However, this year's approach was a tad different, though I still managed to catch a couple of shorts that made an impression.
BEEN THERE by Corina Schwingruber Ilić (2023, Switzerland)
Delving into the global phenomenon of tourism, BEEN THERE takes an avant-garde approach. As the title subtly suggests, the film is an exploration of how tourists, armed with cameras, essentially become modern-day conquerors. The montage, a compilation of scenes from various corners of the world, feels experimental in its tone, yet remarkably coherent. The juxtaposition of these scenes, while initially seeming arbitrary, soon weaves into a narrative that captures the essence of the filmmaker's perspective. In its short span, BEEN THERE manages to evoke reflection, amusement, and critique, serving as a poignant reminder of the implications of our seemingly innocuous actions as tourists.
THE LOVERS by Carolina Sandvik (2023, Sweden)
Carolina Sandvik's THE LOVERS is a whirlwind of emotions, encapsulated in a narrative that blurs the lines between horror, comedy, and drama. At its core, the story delves into a relationship marred by unsettling physical transformations, drawing parallels with the real-world metamorphoses that couples often undergo. What stands out, however, is Sandvik's masterful manipulation of visuals. While the plot remains relatively straightforward, the imagery employed is far from it. Surreal aesthetics, punctuated with exaggerated sequences, create an atmosphere that oscillates between discomfort and amusement. THE LOVERS is an apt testament to the power of visual storytelling, proving that sometimes, the image is indeed mightier than the word.
In Summation:
While my venture into the realm of short films at this year's festival was rather limited, these two offerings reaffirmed the significance of this often-overlooked format. Both BEEN THERE and THE LOVERS showcase the versatility of cinema, proving that impactful narratives aren't always a matter of duration but of depth and perspective.
And that’ll be it at the moment. I got a few more posts about the Locarno Film Festival on the work but as usual, I’m in no rush to spit them out and I want to take the time to craft them as they should.
Cheers,
Davide Catena
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