TIFF 2013 Review - The Strange Little Cat (Das merkwürdige Kätzchen)

Rating:
PG
Release Date:
12,13th September 2013 (TIFF)
Director:
Ramon Zürcher
Cast:
Jenny Schily, Mia Kasalo, Anjorka Strechel, Luk Pfaff,

Hands down the hardest film to talk about at Toronto’s International Film Festival this year is The Strange Little Cat, a charming study into the quant and often bizarre realities of everyday family life.

Very loosely (almost unthinkably) based on Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, Ramon Zurcher’s first feature is an exercise in mastery on many levels. The keen and prying eye he exudes into every facet of the busy household can at points seem mundane and others alien but nearly always utterly riveting. The mechanics of household relations seem to spiral silently into a weird dance as a family convenes for a celebration. As each member pops in and out of the films’ frame we are presented odd short narratives from each in an attempt to reveal the complexity of human emotion and everyday life.

The most interesting layer of the feature is the staunch absurdist thread that weaves throughout the film. The study of domestic relation and interactions we perform on a daily basis successfully reveals the inherent weirdness of human endeavour through those short tales relayed by the family members. Alongside these short tales of zany familiarity, Zurcher picks out individual visuals of the home environment and sequences them alongside the narrative to ensure the familiar becomes something unavoidably strange. A young girl screams as a household blender is activated, a remote control helicopter floats in the background pestering the scene, a basket floats past the window, all the while the strange little cat (the most ordinary of the lot) saunters through this bizarre stage.

These instances are then pointed out by the entirely despondent family to a point where you’ll start to wonder if you’ve tottered into a parallel where no one is capable of emotive reaction. This just goes to show how entirely invested the actors are in Zurcher’s strange little play. A wave of honesty seems to possess each character at one point or another, forcing the family to surrender a strange experience from their day. Altogether the stories render a world of near-surrealist quality, by their confronting everyday actions, but the full point is relayed with the actual performance that relays the tale in a distracted bittersweet fashion.

For a film where the most exciting action is a bottle cork smashing a light bulb, The Strange Little Cat is a fascinating feature. A film like this -no matter how absurd- is still a tedious affair across longer distances, so at a wise run-time of 75 minutes it maintains its quality as a strange little vignette into a strange little world performed by some wonderful German talent.

The Strange Little Cat is ponderous, beautiful, and ultimately mysterious in its experimental exploration of the everyday. Though a highly developed and intriguing film, from a skilled hand, it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea as it required a patience that comes hand in hand with such slow artistic endeavour.

★★★★☆

Scott Clark

Break Loose (Vosmerka) - TIFF 2013 review

Rating:
15
Release Date:
7,8,13th September 2013(TIFF)
Director:
Aleksey Uchitel
Cast:
Vilma Kutaviciute, Aleksey Mantsygin, Alexander Novyn

Russia circa 1999 (perhaps even now?) looks like a dangerous place, a place where men are men and looking at someone the wrong way can result in carnage. At least in Aleksey Uchital’s Break Loose,  a high-testosterone tragedy that documents the concepts of family, poverty, and cyclical violence around a Russian Ghetto at the turn of the millennium.

The first and most prominent thing about Uchital’s delve into the grungy atmosphere of Russian casuals is the inherent violence of that circle. Violence is rife and actually egged on in both the professional and non-professional lives of this band of brothers. With a keen sense of the injustice of fighting, Uchital professes at first what could be a romancing, but is ultimately a condemning of Clockwork Orange gang violence. Fighting here receives a sort of make-over, becoming as fierce, deadly, and frankly distressing as it really is through the raw and honest quality to both the choreography of the fight sequences and the shadowy grit of Alexander Demyanenko and Yuri Klimenko’s cinematography. This edgy understanding of colour and camera movement relays the alleys of ghetto life in turgid shadows and switches to circus lights for the garish ensemble of a tacky nightclub. This nightclub play a prominent part as the setting for the gangster, thug, femme fatale love triangle that threatens to rip the young thugs’ hopes.

The film manages not only to drag you into being audience to the uncomfortable overt masculinity of its characters, but also to a kind of cultural cross section of Russian life at a certain time. The revolt of working class being contained and policed by working class men is surely one of the tragic strains of the film alongside the foul solvency of arguably degenerate businessmen. So, from a point of view, there’s an interesting communist dialogue at work here.

The entire cast are fantastic, each successfully adding to a painting of Russian life caught in the throes of a daunting cycle: violent people lead violent lives. This is perhaps the message of a feature doomed from its very beginning to end in tragedy. The further the film’s hero strives against his destiny, the deeper he sinks into its unrelenting grip. His hopes of running away with Vilma Kutavichute’s femme fatale are constantly in the shadow of her gangster boyfriend, his friends hold him to a life of tradition and family whilst his job tells him to stay in line. All of these forces mount to breath-taking finale which sees revenge and love clash.

A stunning fast-paced and brutal tragedy set against the backdrop of the Russian millennium. Break Loose is a stirring exploration of the limits of control and what people will do to escape them.

★★★★☆

Scott Clark

TIFF 2013 Review - Almost Human

Rating:
18
Release Date:
10,11,13th September 2013(TIFF)
Director:
Joe Begos
Cast:
Graham Skipper, Vanessa Leigh, Josh Ethier

The main problem with Almost Human is that its poster is almost cooler and more grabbing than the film itself. The feel of the film exudes a kind of B-movie charm and cult excellence that has crept its way into vogue over the past decade, thanks to a general boredom with the shiny glaze Hollywood seems to trail over any horror/sci-fi project it touches. Ignore the professional allure of the marketing, scrape away any preconceived notions and there’s still enjoyment to be had.

Joe Begos and his team are obviously passionate about their project and the genre it occupies, their love gushes, as do the 70’s references until Almost Human feels like a high school ode to the work of John Carpenter. The story of an abductee returned to convert the people of a small sleepy town is canon to say the least. Seth (Graham Skipper), who watched his friend get abducted,  thinks something is up when townsfolk turn up murdered and goes on the hunt for his possibly half-alien friend. The cult feel isn’t just spawning from a sci-fi narrative, but in effects conception and sound too. The retro vibe of the film is appreciable and charming at points, but overall its execution is lazy. For a film set in the 70’s there are a few glaring errors that could either rupture your investment in the vibe or strike a point for the charming lunacy of the underdog horror film.

Almost Human seems to spend all of its 80 minute run-time dodging between an impressive, original, low-budget, first-time feature to dopey indie flick lacking in the IQ dept. For every stupid line of dialogue or woeful bit of acting there’s a contrasting sequence of genius effects and zany queasiness.  Make no mistake; the most proficient parts of the film are its highly bogging effects which have the accomplished Cronenberg ability to turn your stomach.

Even for all its faults, the general direction of Almost Human proves a last point that Joe Begos is a young director to look out for. The many low points are in return awarded with moments of humour and well-shot violence that leave the viewer unsure as to whether they just saw something awfully good or just plain bad.

A bizarre venture into 70’s and 80’s sci-fi horror that can bore with its lowest points, but thrill with its best, Almost Human is for the most part dismissible. Bad acting, awful dialogue, and dodgy narrative are at points unburdened with impressive effects, well-edited action, and terrific direction.

★★☆☆☆

Scott Clark

TIFF 2013 Review - Cannibal (Caníbal)

Rating:
15
Release Date:
6,7,14th September 2013 (TIFF)
Director:
Manuel Martín Cuenca
Cast:
Antonio de la Torre, María Alfonsa Rosso, Olimpia Melinte

Considering its title, it may be hard to accept that Manuel Martin Cuenca’s Cannibal was one of the most subtle and endearing features at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival.

The first twenty minutes are a stunning Noir-esque example of raw grotesque violence in coordination with stunning visuals, subtle but powerful. These scenes, like all scenes of macabre nature in the film, are done in such tasteful ways they remove the surface layer of cheap shock and cut straight to the heart of an often sickening but sad affair. After this opening the film constantly battles with its own particular style, wanting to maintain its tame direction whilst maximising the brutality of its core themes. Basically sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, and when it doesn’t it can start to get dull.

Cuenca’s latest feature is, like the rest of his films, seeped in Spanish culture, though here in a very different way. The powerful colour palette and mad energy found so abundantly in other Spanish features are here transmuted to a much more sedate affair in the story of how a respected Granada tailor’s murderous intent draws him into the life of a young woman whose sister he murdered. The pace is slower, the narrative a little barer, characters are rarely above-board; instead the feature operates like a Hitchcock thriller wrapped beautifully in the charming monotony of a Granada tailor’s life. The focus here is rarely the grotesque devices of actual cannibalism, and more the realistic portrayal of the lonely perpetrator.

Like Norman Bates and Mark Lewis, Carlos is a man leading a perfectly “normal” life bar the one bizarre feature that has made him film-worthy. Antonio De La Torre gives a masterful account of Cannibal’s deranged bachelor; his performance oozes unstrained charisma and confidence whilst maintaining the shadowy nature of a hunter. though undeniably a formidable force, Carlos is lacking in the conventional behaviours we tie to all screen killers, what I mean by that is that we never once see the rage and terror of a murderer boil to the surface in a Patrick Bateman rush of violence. Cuenca keeps all the cards flush against his chest, allowing slight flurries of movement that peak our interest, but overall there’s nothing flashy about Carlos’ behaviour.   This is another important point in Cannibal, the tragic portrayal of Carlos as a man, victim to his own murderous intent. This intent sees him kill not for thrill, but habit.

After the stunning introductory murder, Cannibal strolls even deeper into the realm of – dare I say – the mundane, focusing far too much of its run time on surplus scenery which, though pretty, falls in its ability to successfully hook.  Still, a magnetic lead performance, great supporting cast, and some incredibly tasteful macabre leave the film in a fairly laudable stead.

★★★☆☆

Scott Clark

Raindance Film Festival 2013 Review - Medora

Rating:
N/A
Release Date:
29 & 30th September 2013(Raindance)
Director:
Andrew Cohn, Davy Rothbart
There’s a common perception that films centred on American based sports are destined not to do well here in Britain where we prefer football to be played with feet and baseball is, well, just not cricket. There are of course exceptions, such as golden era Kevin Costner’s baseball ghosts drama Field of Dreams and last year’s Moneyball, but even acclaimed documentary Hoop Dreams failed to receive similar adoration on the European side of the Atlantic. It’s perhaps a good job then that new documentary Medora uses basketball only as a base upon which to rest it’s telling tale of modern America and the plight of its numerous small towns.
The aforementioned Hoop Dreams is a good reference point, focussing as the film does, on a group of poverty-stricken basketball players using their on-court time as a way of escaping an otherwise challenging existence. Sadly for this plucky bunch of ball players this is where the similarity ends. For they are not destined for NBA stardom with all that that brings, their results are very much at the other end of the spectrum, the San Marino of high school basketball teams in fact, winless in the previous season, record defeats and racking up another unenviable losing streak. The camera’s are there to catch each morale-sapping defeat as well as by the side of the young individuals who make up the team as they take us on a tour of their home lives and in so doing, the life of a forgotten American town.

We travel through deserted streets once teeming with locals and visitors alike, closed factories and power plants that used to provide employment for entire communities, boarded up shops and restaurants forced into closure, and the near-empty trailer parks known only as area’s to avoid on account of ‘meth heads’.

We’re invited into the lives of these teenagers, witnesses to their own personal trials in that all important graduation year – we even get to go to Homecoming. Along the way it’s not hard to warm to these characters, dealt an unfairly difficult hand in life and rooted in a town that offers little in way of escape. Their options are slim and we see each of them casually tread the path of their future, one that’s always defined by their past. Dylan has never met his father and wants to work to ensure other children won’t face a similarly hard adolescence; Rusty’s parents were never around either owing to alcoholism or ignorance, forcing him to drop-out of school before his 15th birthday. There’s Robby too, blessed with a family unit but struggling academically.

Following the team, their coach and this community we see a part of America often overlooked in films. There is no sprawling shopping centre or high rise buildings, no iconic cinematic Americana to speak of at all. What there is however, is a sense of community pride, one instilled in their tiny school and invested in the hopes of the basketball team. It’s what prevents the school being consolidated into a giant county-engulfing one and what keeps these teenage boys turning up week in week out to pull on their kits and face another humiliating defeat at the hands of a school 10 times their size.

There’s a prevailing sense of inevitability coursing through the film about the fate of such towns, tucked away from the highways and skyscrapers. There’s footage of an Obama address acknowledging the hard times faced while remaining hopeful for the times ahead. With Medora, directors Andrew Cohn and Davy Rothbart have echoed those sentiments, establishing the difficulties but forcing through elements of hope, embodied in no little part by the members of the basketball team.

★★★★☆

Matthew Walsh

Oval Space Cinema Club presents: Berberian Sound Studio

Continuing with its monthly series of independent film screenings, Oval Space Cinema Club is delighted to announce its Halloween special: Berberian Sound Studio, the multiple award-winning 2012 psychological thriller by acclaimed director Peter Strickland.

Curated with dedication to the art and power of filmmaking, Oval Space Cinema Club covers everything from groundbreaking political documentaries to art house explorations from across the globe. Always geared to adding something extra to the cinematic experience, Oval Space aims to engage and inspire film fans with a carefully selected program of Q + As with directors, heated panel discussions, open debates and more.

Set in 1976, the film follows mild-mannered and introverted sound engineer Gilderoy (Toby Jones) as he leaves the comfort of the home he shares with his mother in Dorking for a film studio in Italy. Having previously specialised in providing the sounds of babbling brooks and birdcalls for British natural history films, Gilderoy finds himself at the centre of a production for ‘The Equestrian Vortex’, a gory horror film by exploitation maestro Giancarlo Santini, requiring him to design sounds for mutilation, torture and terror.

Soon, life begins to imitate art and Gilderoy finds himself lost in a downward spiral of on-screen witchcraft, off-screen sexual intrigue and psychological mayhem as realities shift.

An homage to the art of analogue sound and a brilliantly executed deconstruction of the Italian horror genre, Strickland’s masterpiece features an excellent soundtrack from Broadcast, a signature band of Warp Records and has won multiple awards, including Best Film at the Toronto Film Critics Association, Film of the Year at the Evening Standard London Film Awards and Best Actor nods for Toby Jones at the Evening Standard London Film Awards and the British Independent Film Awards (BIFA).

Cinema Review - Sunshine On Leith

Release:
04th October 2013
Cert:
PG
Director:
Dexter Fletcher
Stars:
Jane Horrocks, Peter Mullan , George McKay, Kevin Guthrie, Antonia Thomas, Freya Mavor,Paul Brannigan
Following the well-received Wild Bill, Dexter Fletcher is back behind the camera for Sunshine On Leith - a Scottish musical adaptation of Stephen Greenhorn's stage musical featuring the hits of The Proclaimers. Whilst there is some fun to be had the film's gooey sentimentality and Scottish soap-opera style narrative can be somewhat off-putting.

Sunshine On Leith centres around Davy (George McKay) and Ally (Kevin Guthrie), two soldiers returning from Afghanistan who are forced to readapt to civilian life. Here they discover new romances and old friends - Davy in particular learns of some new family secrets concerning his dad, Rab (Peter Mullan).

Fletcher directs this tale with bucket loads of energy and vibrancy, truly showcasing the beauty of Scotland's capital city, which doesn't get the big screen treatment nearly often enough. The majority of the musical sequences are brimming with fun - with standouts including Jason Fleyming's chirpy rendition of Should Have Been Loved and the riotously fun Over and Done With. However, the lack of this reviewer's personal favourite Proclaimer's hit, Lady Luck, is upsetting.

However, when we take a step back from the musical sequences Sunshine On Leith can feel a bit like a below-par soap opera - a big screen River City perhaps? Plot developments feel shoehorned in so as songs fit with slightly more ease with a narrative containing a variety of uninspired emotional subplots - most of which feel superficial and over-bearing. Every single character has some form of relationship problem, not to mention that there are heart-attacks, a multitude of break-ups, and amputee soldiers - most of which feel like an easy method of tugging at the old heartstrings.

However, these subplots, in particular Rab and wife Jean's (Jane Horrocks) marriage problems do result in some stand-out performances. Horrocks is downright loveable - showcasing a natural warmth and charisma - as well as a standout acting talent. Peter Mullan also delivers what feels like a raw and stripped back performance as Rab - a man whose current happiness is challenged by a past decision.

Sunshine On Leith delivers a lot of light-hearted fun in its chirpy musical moments. Fletcher directs this tale with a playful energy and showcases a real beauty in Edinburgh. However, the film's tendency to focus on cheap-melodrama results in a watch that feels like the unwanted lovechild of River City and Glee.

★★★☆☆

Andrew McArthur